As I was reading a particular Facebook post yesterday, it occurred to me to read said post through the eyes of a complete stranger who just happened upon the conversation. I was struck by how I read the post with such eyes--even if those eyes were a sort of guess.
I thought to myself, "Man, this poster and several of those who are responding sure do come across as holier-than-thou." Of a possibly more fascinating note, the particular poster and many of those who responded to the post oftentimes decry "fundamentalist" Christians who believe they are somehow more morally superior than others. Yet, I do not believe they would see themselves as being morally superior by their own actions or words.
Yet, they were. No doubt in my mind. And it got me thinking--particularly about many of my own posts and blogs. And I shuddered.
I mean, I don't think, I KNOW, that many of my postings and blog posts come across in exactly the same way. I know that of the several times I've posted on message boards, I've come across in exactly the same way. There is no doubt in my mind I have come across thinking I am morally and intellectually superior than others.
I apologize. I won't say it wasn't intentional, because as I think back, I am sure it was. I wanted folks to think I was right. I wanted folks to think I was intelligent. I wanted folks to think that I had moral insight and superiority. There was and still probably is a lack of humility on my part. Again, I apologize.
But please don't think that I am backing off of any claims of truth that I have made. I do not believe a person can live without making some sort of truth claim. I mean, if no one makes truth claims, then all really and truly is relative. All really and truly is socially constructed, and right and wrong is simply a matter of what society chooses it to be at any given moment in history. If a society decides killing off a particular race or religious group is okay, there is nothing to appeal to other than brute force to stop such behavior--unless there is a truth claim honoring the basic human dignity of another.
Truth claims are important to make. They govern our behavior, but the problem as I see it with much of social media and even blogging is a lack of humility when posting about our truth claims. I've done it. Someone will probably think I am doing it now. Maybe I am. I hope not. I don't feel morally superior or intellectually superior to anyone while writing this post. In fact, if we were sitting down visiting with one another, I think you would discover that very quickly.
But, we are not sitting down talking to one another. You are reading this post. I am writing it. We are separated by a huge gulf. Instead of seeing my facial expressions, reading my body language, and hearing the inflection in my voice, your brain is left to add all that stuff in. Depending upon your mood, how you understand my stance, and your assumptions about my character, you will read this post perhaps in a very different manner than I personally intended.
This is one of the major problems with social media. Even though it claims to connect us, it only does so superficially, and I have yet to figure out how to make truth claims without coming across as morally or intellectually superior.
I do know, in the deepest part of my heart, that coming across with any kind of moral superiority or intellectual superiority is contrary to the Gospel. For if we are indeed saved by grace, then we cannot feel morally or intellectually superior to another. It's an impossibility. We know we cannot save ourselves by our morality or our intellect. We are helpless to do so. We are totally and completely dependent upon God for salvation. This leads directly to humility, but that humility is so, so difficult to express through words on a screen--140 characters on Twitter--even in the short amount of space in this blog post. Even in large tomes read over e-readers or on old-fashioned paper humility is hard to see.
I am not sure what the answer really is. In this digital age with the entrapment of social media, I wonder if we are left to divide ourselves further and alienate one another more and more because of an inability to come across humbly AND the way our brains intentionally fill in information that cannot be seen. I wonder if it is possible to entertain claims of truth over social media without coming across as morally and intellectually superior. I just don't know.
It is my hope, after seeing the things that I saw, that somehow, my words presented on Facebook and through blogging may express my convictions without coming across as haughty. My apologies if they do.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Thursday, March 20, 2014
And Who is My Neighbor?
Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 31Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. 34He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 36Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” 37He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
While camping at my property in Rocksprings this past Spring Break, I stumbled upon a little bit of an unfortunate circumstance. My truck battery died. Completely. Utterly.
This wouldn't have normally been a bad thing. I mean, I've got one of those portable jumper things. I just happened to have left it at home. I could easily call for help, but there is VERY limited cell phone service and I knew virtually no one.
But...
Things have a way of working out. Earlier in the day my truck battery died, I met a group of guys who own property out there as well. They gave me their names and numbers.
Earlier that day, my wife had placed her purse on the trailer I had towed out there. For some reason, at intervals, the spot where she placed her purse received cell phone service. It wasn't constant, but it was there.
I placed my cell phone in exactly that spot and waited until I saw there was signal. The signal maintained for just long enough for me to make a few phone calls. People called people, and before I knew it, I had numerous offers of help.
At 9 p.m. that evening, one of the folks who lives out near my property came driving up the road in his Mule (the Kawasaki kind). He had a generator and battery charger.
"I understand you need help," he said.
I'd never met the guy. He'd driven by my place earlier and seen my kids and I out playing. He was afraid they were in the tent asleep and that he'd wake them. (They were in San Antonio with their grandparents in a much warmer situation than I was.)
His help was much appreciated. He cranked up his generator, plugged in his battery charger, and was talked and waited for the battery to charge. Of course, he eventually found out I was a pastor.
"I'm not much of a church goer. I drink. I smoke. I cuss. I've done a few things that aren't to be proud of. Maybe I'm not too good of a person."
Me: Let me tell you what I think. I'm really not trying to butter you up or anything, but it seems to me Jesus had a whole lot less to say about those kind of things, but He did have a lot to say about dropping everything and helping out a neighbor who was in need. You've come out here in the middle of the night to help out a complete stranger, and in my book, that carries a lot more weight than those other things.
"Hmm. I think you are right about that."
I know I am, but that's beside the point. The point is I was this guy's neighbor, and he responded when I was in need. No questions. No asking for payment or anything from me. He simply was doing the right thing.
Would I do the same?
I hope.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
At What Point...
Do we become slaves to technology?
And sports?
And money?
And possessions?
And activities?
And busy-ness?
And pleasure?
And social media?
And blogging?
Some might go so far as to say that such things are actually modern day idols--false gods.
I've just come off a week of Spring Break. I didn't blog at all. Got back to the office yesterday and had a class to attend. Normally, I would have rushed to put together a blog post. "If you don't keep it up, people won't read." Such was the advice I heard repeatedly to be a "successful" blog.
But I was different after coming back from Spring Break. Something happened to me while I was gone.
I spent a couple of days on a piece of property my wife and I bought in Rocksprings, TX. The land is completely raw. No electricity. No telephone. No running water. Nothing. Cell phone signal? At intervals--depending upon where you stood and how the wind was blowing--literally. No internet through the phone. No ability to check Facebook or blog. No way to stay connected to the outside world.
Somewhat of a detox occurred. It was quite heavenly.
No. I didn't hear God's voice telling me to stop using Facebook or quit blogging. I didn't see a vision of a technology free world where people actually talked to one another instead of spending time glued to cell phone screens. Nothing of the sort.
In fact, all I heard was nothing. No airplanes. Few vehicles. Not even a coyote at night. Quiet. Stillness.
Do you want to get away?
Yeah. I did.
And I started to realize just how much time I spent on Facebook. I started to realize how much time I spent blogging. I started to realize these places were places I was trying to find some sort of worth. (How many hits did your blog get today? How many likes did you get on Facebook?) Does it matter?
Not in the big scheme of things. Such idols demand a lot and offer little in return. They beckon with promises of fame and fulfillment, but they never deliver.
Only One gives such fulfillment. Not these modern day idols. Only One isn't a false god.
Jesus.
I'm not going to stop blogging, but I will be doing less of it.
I'm not going to stop using Facebook, but I'm not checking it numerous times a day.
Technology and social media won't bring members to the church. It's not likely going to influence many people to become Christian. It's more likely to suck you in and dominate your life. It had a grip on mine. Perhaps it's trying to wrap its tentacles around me once more.
No thank you.
And sports?
And money?
And possessions?
And activities?
And busy-ness?
And pleasure?
And social media?
And blogging?
Some might go so far as to say that such things are actually modern day idols--false gods.
I've just come off a week of Spring Break. I didn't blog at all. Got back to the office yesterday and had a class to attend. Normally, I would have rushed to put together a blog post. "If you don't keep it up, people won't read." Such was the advice I heard repeatedly to be a "successful" blog.
But I was different after coming back from Spring Break. Something happened to me while I was gone.
I spent a couple of days on a piece of property my wife and I bought in Rocksprings, TX. The land is completely raw. No electricity. No telephone. No running water. Nothing. Cell phone signal? At intervals--depending upon where you stood and how the wind was blowing--literally. No internet through the phone. No ability to check Facebook or blog. No way to stay connected to the outside world.
Somewhat of a detox occurred. It was quite heavenly.
No. I didn't hear God's voice telling me to stop using Facebook or quit blogging. I didn't see a vision of a technology free world where people actually talked to one another instead of spending time glued to cell phone screens. Nothing of the sort.
In fact, all I heard was nothing. No airplanes. Few vehicles. Not even a coyote at night. Quiet. Stillness.
Do you want to get away?
Yeah. I did.
And I started to realize just how much time I spent on Facebook. I started to realize how much time I spent blogging. I started to realize these places were places I was trying to find some sort of worth. (How many hits did your blog get today? How many likes did you get on Facebook?) Does it matter?
Not in the big scheme of things. Such idols demand a lot and offer little in return. They beckon with promises of fame and fulfillment, but they never deliver.
Only One gives such fulfillment. Not these modern day idols. Only One isn't a false god.
Jesus.
I'm not going to stop blogging, but I will be doing less of it.
I'm not going to stop using Facebook, but I'm not checking it numerous times a day.
Technology and social media won't bring members to the church. It's not likely going to influence many people to become Christian. It's more likely to suck you in and dominate your life. It had a grip on mine. Perhaps it's trying to wrap its tentacles around me once more.
No thank you.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
You are More than Dust: Ash Wednesday Sermon
How do you measure your worth?
Think about this question for just a moment or two.
How do you measure your worth?
Do you immediately think about your bank account?
Do you immediately think about your house and the items in it?
Do you immediately think about your family; your wife; your children?
Do you immediately think about yourself; your personhood; and your rights?
Do you think about that sign that was around for many, many years that said, “I know I’m somebody ‘cause God don’t make no junk!”
How do you measure your worth?
Do you think about the value you have to the company you work for?
Do you think about the history of your family and how deep your family’s roots run here or wherever you hail from?
Do you think about the things you have accomplished in life? The trophies both real and imagined that you have gathered?
Do you think about the work you have done to help others?
What is your value? Is it possible to measure?
On the one hand there are those who will tell you that you are more precious than anything in the world. They will tell you that your value is tremendous. They will tell you that you have certain rights, and that no one can take those rights away from you. Most of us who grew up here in the U.S. have been told this over and over and over again.
But then, we fly straight into reality, and reality fails to match what we have been told. Do you think I am making a false claim? Do you think I am standing up here this evening to tell you lies? “Prove it to me!” you may want to shout! “Prove to me that I’m not valuable like I’ve been told.”
Fine. I will, but please don’t shoot the messenger.
If you think you are so valuable, try to sway the next election on your own. See if your vote really does make a difference.
If you think you are so valuable, go apply for a job, but try to do so without appealing to any degree you have or any experience you have. Try getting that job simply because you are you.
If you think you are so valuable, dress in rags and then try to go to any business around and beg for a morsel to eat telling folks you are unable to pay.
If you think you are so valuable, go tell someone they are completely wrong in how they live their lives and that they should do what you tell them to do because, after all, you are valuable, and folks should listen to you.
If you think you are so valuable, try to contemplate just who will remember you 200 years from now. Try to contemplate whether or not you will simply be a name on a gravestone or a name on a family tree. Who will remember you after that amount of time has passed?
What gives you value?
My God, how we want to be valued. We want to leave our mark. We want others to see our accomplishments–to be more than just a name. We work and we slave. We give up our time. We live vicariously through our children and grandchildren. We invest in our families; in our work; we run our selves frazzled. And for what? What difference do we really make?
The end result is much the same for many of us: stress, burnout, worry, fear of losing our jobs, our homes, our possessions, and our freedoms. We become obsessed with doing everything, seeing everything, having everything or making sure our kids can have all the things we never did. And all it ever earns us is a hole in the ground. Six feet deep and three feet wide. Or it earns us an urn full of ashes. Eight inches by ten inches to be placed on a mantle and forgotten or simply scattered around.
“Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”
This is the reality each and every one of us face. All our work. All our striving after value. All our attempts to make ourselves shine and look good. All our attempts to have bigger houses and faster cars and multiple bank accounts and stock portfolios end in one thing: death.
And what will we be worth then? What will our value be at that moment?
As your pastor, I wrestle with such things. I am caught in a very vicarious position. I know my job is to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. I know my job is to lead a people in being faithful to God. To do this job faithfully means that sometimes a congregation will grow and sometimes it will not. Sometimes people will accept the words I preach and sometimes they will not. I know this, but it is difficult to put such a thing into practice?
Why?
I’ll tell you why. Because I like to be liked. I don’t like it when people disagree with me. I don’t like it when people say that I am wrong or that my leadership needs tweaking. I don’t like it when people stop attending church for one reason or another. I want everyone to come and get a long and be happy. I want a congregation to keep growing and growing and growing and adding programs and staff. I know that oftentimes pastors are not judged on their faithfulness but on whether or not worship attendance keeps going up and whether or not offerings continue to be at a level where they keep the bills paid. I know that pastors who are considered successful have huge followings on Facebook and on their blogs and they write books and they are invited to give lectures at congregations and conventions. These are the pastors who have everything. They are very much valued. And if any of these things don’t happen, or if worship attendance declines or offerings slip, the easiest thing for a congregation to do is simply say, “It’s the pastor’s fault.”
I know this. I know it very, very well. And for the longest time, I thought it was my job to make a congregation grow. I thought it was my job to make a congregation get along. I thought it was my job to bring people in and make them stay. My worth was tied to worship attendance and offering and seeing people in church on Sunday morning.
And I was stressed. And I burned out. And I got depressed. And I’ve had to heal.
During Thanksgiving, my family and I traveled up to Arkansas to see my 94 year old grandfather. He was extremely excited to see us, and we spent hours just sitting and talking. Grandpa shared the stories of his time serving as a pastor in mostly rural congregations. At no time did he ever preach at a mega-church or have several hundreds in worship. But that didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, I know it didn’t bother him because at a particularly crucial junction in our visit, Grandpa looked at me and said, “I didn’t accomplish much in the eyes of the world, but the Lord and I are on pretty good terms.”
And my eyes became teary.
In one fell swoop, Grandpa had cut me to the core and helped me see what was really important as a person of faith. Not worship attendance. Not building up a huge church. Not making people get along. None of these things impacted my value. None. The value I have comes from the Lord.
The value we all have comes from the Lord.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but so that the world may be saved through Him.”
You are more than dust. You are a child of God. Turn to Him and you will truly find out how precious you really are. You will understand why St. Paul writes, “...we are alive; ...as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.” For when you realize God has worked through Jesus Christ to redeem you, you will know that you have all you need. Amen.
Think about this question for just a moment or two.
How do you measure your worth?
Do you immediately think about your bank account?
Do you immediately think about your house and the items in it?
Do you immediately think about your family; your wife; your children?
Do you immediately think about yourself; your personhood; and your rights?
Do you think about that sign that was around for many, many years that said, “I know I’m somebody ‘cause God don’t make no junk!”
How do you measure your worth?
Do you think about the value you have to the company you work for?
Do you think about the history of your family and how deep your family’s roots run here or wherever you hail from?
Do you think about the things you have accomplished in life? The trophies both real and imagined that you have gathered?
Do you think about the work you have done to help others?
What is your value? Is it possible to measure?
On the one hand there are those who will tell you that you are more precious than anything in the world. They will tell you that your value is tremendous. They will tell you that you have certain rights, and that no one can take those rights away from you. Most of us who grew up here in the U.S. have been told this over and over and over again.
But then, we fly straight into reality, and reality fails to match what we have been told. Do you think I am making a false claim? Do you think I am standing up here this evening to tell you lies? “Prove it to me!” you may want to shout! “Prove to me that I’m not valuable like I’ve been told.”
Fine. I will, but please don’t shoot the messenger.
If you think you are so valuable, try to sway the next election on your own. See if your vote really does make a difference.
If you think you are so valuable, go apply for a job, but try to do so without appealing to any degree you have or any experience you have. Try getting that job simply because you are you.
If you think you are so valuable, dress in rags and then try to go to any business around and beg for a morsel to eat telling folks you are unable to pay.
If you think you are so valuable, go tell someone they are completely wrong in how they live their lives and that they should do what you tell them to do because, after all, you are valuable, and folks should listen to you.
If you think you are so valuable, try to contemplate just who will remember you 200 years from now. Try to contemplate whether or not you will simply be a name on a gravestone or a name on a family tree. Who will remember you after that amount of time has passed?
What gives you value?
My God, how we want to be valued. We want to leave our mark. We want others to see our accomplishments–to be more than just a name. We work and we slave. We give up our time. We live vicariously through our children and grandchildren. We invest in our families; in our work; we run our selves frazzled. And for what? What difference do we really make?
The end result is much the same for many of us: stress, burnout, worry, fear of losing our jobs, our homes, our possessions, and our freedoms. We become obsessed with doing everything, seeing everything, having everything or making sure our kids can have all the things we never did. And all it ever earns us is a hole in the ground. Six feet deep and three feet wide. Or it earns us an urn full of ashes. Eight inches by ten inches to be placed on a mantle and forgotten or simply scattered around.
“Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”
This is the reality each and every one of us face. All our work. All our striving after value. All our attempts to make ourselves shine and look good. All our attempts to have bigger houses and faster cars and multiple bank accounts and stock portfolios end in one thing: death.
And what will we be worth then? What will our value be at that moment?
As your pastor, I wrestle with such things. I am caught in a very vicarious position. I know my job is to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. I know my job is to lead a people in being faithful to God. To do this job faithfully means that sometimes a congregation will grow and sometimes it will not. Sometimes people will accept the words I preach and sometimes they will not. I know this, but it is difficult to put such a thing into practice?
Why?
I’ll tell you why. Because I like to be liked. I don’t like it when people disagree with me. I don’t like it when people say that I am wrong or that my leadership needs tweaking. I don’t like it when people stop attending church for one reason or another. I want everyone to come and get a long and be happy. I want a congregation to keep growing and growing and growing and adding programs and staff. I know that oftentimes pastors are not judged on their faithfulness but on whether or not worship attendance keeps going up and whether or not offerings continue to be at a level where they keep the bills paid. I know that pastors who are considered successful have huge followings on Facebook and on their blogs and they write books and they are invited to give lectures at congregations and conventions. These are the pastors who have everything. They are very much valued. And if any of these things don’t happen, or if worship attendance declines or offerings slip, the easiest thing for a congregation to do is simply say, “It’s the pastor’s fault.”
I know this. I know it very, very well. And for the longest time, I thought it was my job to make a congregation grow. I thought it was my job to make a congregation get along. I thought it was my job to bring people in and make them stay. My worth was tied to worship attendance and offering and seeing people in church on Sunday morning.
And I was stressed. And I burned out. And I got depressed. And I’ve had to heal.
During Thanksgiving, my family and I traveled up to Arkansas to see my 94 year old grandfather. He was extremely excited to see us, and we spent hours just sitting and talking. Grandpa shared the stories of his time serving as a pastor in mostly rural congregations. At no time did he ever preach at a mega-church or have several hundreds in worship. But that didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, I know it didn’t bother him because at a particularly crucial junction in our visit, Grandpa looked at me and said, “I didn’t accomplish much in the eyes of the world, but the Lord and I are on pretty good terms.”
And my eyes became teary.
In one fell swoop, Grandpa had cut me to the core and helped me see what was really important as a person of faith. Not worship attendance. Not building up a huge church. Not making people get along. None of these things impacted my value. None. The value I have comes from the Lord.
The value we all have comes from the Lord.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but so that the world may be saved through Him.”
You are more than dust. You are a child of God. Turn to Him and you will truly find out how precious you really are. You will understand why St. Paul writes, “...we are alive; ...as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.” For when you realize God has worked through Jesus Christ to redeem you, you will know that you have all you need. Amen.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
No, Dammit, That's Not How God Works!
It's four hours I will not soon forget.
The County Sheriff is a member of my congregation, and he asked me to visit a local family who suffered a tragic loss. In a small community like the one I am a part of, when tragedy strikes, everyone is affected. When that tragedy involves horrific death and suspected murder, folks get sent reeling--especially in a place where "that kind of stuff doesn't happen."
As the pastor of the only congregation within a radius of 11 miles, essentially, I am the community pastor--not just the pastor of St. John Lutheran Church. Sure, not everyone in the community is a member of my congregation, but I serve this community, and we are charged with reaching out into this community to deal with its needs.
The Sheriff sensed a need, and he asked me to go.
I went.
Making cold calls to a stranger's home is not the most comfortable thing in the world. You never really know how you will be welcomed--or not welcomed for that matter. Fortunately, the folks in this case were very receptive. They had many within our community reach out to them during their time of trial. At first, I was just one more in a long line.
But I am a pastor. In times like these, whether or not I like it, I represent God. I'm a messenger. That can make a big difference.
Working through grief is an exhaustive process. Working through anger and frustration and pain is an exhausting process, but you have to stick with it. You can't just spend 15 minutes, tell folks we're thinking of you, offer further assistance if they need it, say a quick prayer and walk out the door thinking you've really dealt with things. To really make any kind of impact, you've got to stay.
And I did. The process was overwhelming at times, but there was a lot to work through.
The family was not only dealing with the grief of losing their loved one, but there was more. Much, much more. This death was not the only tragedy experienced. A son/grandson had died while drinking and driving. Years before rape had happened. All of these wounds were touched by the tragic events of a few nights before. Accumulated guilt, anger, sadness, and frustration bubbled--no, erupted--while I was there.
It didn't bother me to be a part of such an event. Sometimes, the doctor has to lance the boil to get the infection out. Only then, can healing salve be administered.
"I've spent the last two years angry with God. I've cussed Him. I was told He made my son die so that I would get my life straight. Is that right?"
I hate it when folks say such things.
Don't get me wrong. I know where it comes from. I know in the Older Testament, there are numerous occasions of God punishing people for their sins. There are numerous instances of death and despair and illness falling upon folks who disobeyed God's commands. David had his son die. The Israelites had serpents sent among them to bite them. The ground opened up and swallowed those who sought to lead a rebellion against Moses. And so on and so forth. In the Newer Book, there is even a scene of God's vengeance poured out against Ananias and Sapphira. One can create this image of God who punishes us for our sins and indeed sends us messages of death so that we get our lives straight. I understand folks who make sense out of tragedy by saying such things, but this is not the narrative revealed through Jesus Christ.
"No," I replied. "God didn't kill your son to get your attention so that you would become a better person. God doesn't operate that way anymore."
Oh, the conversation wound around more and more.
"We are no longer under the discipline of the Law. Mind you, the Law is still in effect, but we are no longer under its discipline."
"God was not responsible for your son's death. The reason your son is dead is he drank, drove into oncoming traffic and hit an 18 wheeler."
"So, he's responsible for his own death?"
"It may sound harsh to say it, but yes. I have to tell the truth. Just like God is not responsible for your sister's death. The person who killed her is."
"God does not make us suffer so that we 'get our lives together.' God does not say, 'Get your stuff together or else you will go to hell.' God says, 'I love you. I died for you. Now, become obedient to me.' God's love always comes first. He loves you now. He always has."
"Thank you. For the last two years, I've hated God."
"I bet you have. But He's never hated you."
Enough said.
The County Sheriff is a member of my congregation, and he asked me to visit a local family who suffered a tragic loss. In a small community like the one I am a part of, when tragedy strikes, everyone is affected. When that tragedy involves horrific death and suspected murder, folks get sent reeling--especially in a place where "that kind of stuff doesn't happen."
As the pastor of the only congregation within a radius of 11 miles, essentially, I am the community pastor--not just the pastor of St. John Lutheran Church. Sure, not everyone in the community is a member of my congregation, but I serve this community, and we are charged with reaching out into this community to deal with its needs.
The Sheriff sensed a need, and he asked me to go.
I went.
Making cold calls to a stranger's home is not the most comfortable thing in the world. You never really know how you will be welcomed--or not welcomed for that matter. Fortunately, the folks in this case were very receptive. They had many within our community reach out to them during their time of trial. At first, I was just one more in a long line.
But I am a pastor. In times like these, whether or not I like it, I represent God. I'm a messenger. That can make a big difference.
Working through grief is an exhaustive process. Working through anger and frustration and pain is an exhausting process, but you have to stick with it. You can't just spend 15 minutes, tell folks we're thinking of you, offer further assistance if they need it, say a quick prayer and walk out the door thinking you've really dealt with things. To really make any kind of impact, you've got to stay.
And I did. The process was overwhelming at times, but there was a lot to work through.
The family was not only dealing with the grief of losing their loved one, but there was more. Much, much more. This death was not the only tragedy experienced. A son/grandson had died while drinking and driving. Years before rape had happened. All of these wounds were touched by the tragic events of a few nights before. Accumulated guilt, anger, sadness, and frustration bubbled--no, erupted--while I was there.
It didn't bother me to be a part of such an event. Sometimes, the doctor has to lance the boil to get the infection out. Only then, can healing salve be administered.
"I've spent the last two years angry with God. I've cussed Him. I was told He made my son die so that I would get my life straight. Is that right?"
I hate it when folks say such things.
Don't get me wrong. I know where it comes from. I know in the Older Testament, there are numerous occasions of God punishing people for their sins. There are numerous instances of death and despair and illness falling upon folks who disobeyed God's commands. David had his son die. The Israelites had serpents sent among them to bite them. The ground opened up and swallowed those who sought to lead a rebellion against Moses. And so on and so forth. In the Newer Book, there is even a scene of God's vengeance poured out against Ananias and Sapphira. One can create this image of God who punishes us for our sins and indeed sends us messages of death so that we get our lives straight. I understand folks who make sense out of tragedy by saying such things, but this is not the narrative revealed through Jesus Christ.
"No," I replied. "God didn't kill your son to get your attention so that you would become a better person. God doesn't operate that way anymore."
Oh, the conversation wound around more and more.
"We are no longer under the discipline of the Law. Mind you, the Law is still in effect, but we are no longer under its discipline."
"God was not responsible for your son's death. The reason your son is dead is he drank, drove into oncoming traffic and hit an 18 wheeler."
"So, he's responsible for his own death?"
"It may sound harsh to say it, but yes. I have to tell the truth. Just like God is not responsible for your sister's death. The person who killed her is."
"God does not make us suffer so that we 'get our lives together.' God does not say, 'Get your stuff together or else you will go to hell.' God says, 'I love you. I died for you. Now, become obedient to me.' God's love always comes first. He loves you now. He always has."
"Thank you. For the last two years, I've hated God."
"I bet you have. But He's never hated you."
Enough said.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Rolled on the Floor Laughing!!!
Monday, March 3, 2014
How Do You Know Christianity is True?
A brilliant magician was performing on an ocean liner. But every time he did a trick, the Captain's parrot would yell, "It's a trick. He's a phony. That's not magic." Then one evening during a storm, the ship sank while the magician was performing. The parrot and the magician ended up in the same lifeboat. For several days they just glared at each other, neither saying a word to the other. Finally the parrot said, "OK, I give up. What did you do with the ship?"
Funny enough, the parrot had a problem. The parrot couldn’t distinguish between what was real and what was fantasy. The parrot couldn’t distinguish between what was truly an act and the tragedy that had befallen the ship. Sometimes, I wonder if we don’t have the same problem. Why do I say that?
How do you know Christianity is true?
Perhaps you have never thought about that question. Perhaps you have simply assumed its truth as something taught to you by your parents, Sunday School teachers, pastors, or other such authority figures. Perhaps you have simply been raised as a Christian and so the question has never bothered you. Perhaps you simply haven’t taken or haven’t had the time to deeply reflect upon this faith you have come to participate in this morning. Perhaps you are one of those sitting out there who has had such doubts as you have run into more and more people who have become a part of the fastest growing religious group in our nation: the nones–but you have been afraid to voice your doubts for fear that someone will be disappointed in you or that someone will automatically condemn you to hell. The reasons may be many and varied, but this morning I want to put it front and center in our conversation.
How do you know Christianity is true?
On the one hand, you may simply answer: I know it is true because I have felt a deep, personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ. I know it’s true because it helps me order my life; it makes everything fit; or as C.S. Lewis once said, “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” For some of us, the answer is as plain as this. Yet, in our world today, this point of view is often rebutted by someone saying, “Well, that’s fine for you. What is truth for you isn’t necessarily truth for me. What works for you doesn’t necessarily work for me. Truth is relative.”
And their rebuttal works...IF, if mind you, truth is simply something that works. If truth is simply a way of making sense of the world, then there are myriads of ways of making sense out of life. Who is to say which one is right and which one is wrong? But what if truth isn’t simply something that works? What if truth isn’t just something that gives a person a frame of reference? I mean, we do know that certain frames of reference are better than others, do we not? We know that Mother Teresa’s way of looking at the world is better than those who flew their planes into the world trade centers, do we not? We know the liberties we experience in this nation are better than the brutality experienced by people in dictatorships, do we not? If we begin making such claims, then we are appealing to a higher truth.
And how do we come to know that higher truth? How do we know we simply haven’t created it on our own? Let’s try to work our way through this just a little bit this morning. Mind you, I don’t quite to pin everything down in 15 minutes or so, but I want to begin making a case for the truth of Christianity–a truth you can understand and begin to share with those who offer their doubts.
We will begin with the opening statement of our second lesson this morning from 2 Peter chapter 1 verse 16, “For we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty.”
Stop right here a moment and process this statement. The author of this book, who Christian tradition attributes to St. Peter is blunt. “We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Apparently, there were those who were spreading this thought regarding Christianity. There were those who believed that the whole shebang was completely and totally made up. There are those who adamantly say this about Christianity today, so really, as the Church, we are not facing anything we haven’t faced before. Peter doesn’t mince words, he draws a line in the sand and says, “Nope. This isn’t some kind of cleverly devised myth.” What does he appeal to next?
Again, listen to this carefully, “we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty. 17For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’ 18We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain. 19 So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed.”
We were eyewitnesses to Jesus’ majesty. We heard the voice on the mountaintop. We were there watching this all transpire.
Now, we need to deviate for just a moment. Some scholars have often said that the way the Bible developed is that over a span of decades, people started telling stories. Those stories became embellished as folks told of Jesus’ words and deeds. As time passed, it was thought it would be a good idea to write the stories down and what got written down was the embellished tales and not any sort of historical truth. The myth was written; the truth was lost. This train of thought assumes a couple of things: it assumes that the stories about Jesus were written long after his original followers had died off, and it assumes there were no checks and balances going on in the early Christian movement. It assumes that the eyewitness testimony of the disciples was less important than the embellishment. I think their assumptions are wrong. I’m not the only one. Why is this important?
As people we are geared to accept and trust the eyewitness accounts of people–unless we have a good reason to distrust those accounts. What do I mean by that? Well, let’s say you are having dinner one evening with your significant other. You arrive at a restaurant and are making pleasant conversation. Your significant other begins telling you about her day. She says, “I had a very productive day. I went to work and managed to handle several important cases in a matter of hours. I counseled a couple of junior employees and they are better equipped to handle their jobs. After work, I enjoyed a brisk work out at the gym and am feeling fantastic.”
Would you then look at your significant other and say, “Sounds interesting, but do you have any evidence to back your assertions up?”
How do you think the rest of your evening is going to go?
We are programmed to accept eyewitness testimony unless we have a good reason to distrust it–the person who tells us is found to be a liar; we discover evidence to the contrary; we find others who testify a different set of events.
2 Peter 1:16 is an intriguing piece of scripture as it claims to be eyewitness testimony to the transfiguration. Peter claims to have been there, seen that, and now we have to decide whether or not to trust the account. “We did not follow any cleverly devised myths.”
Let me take just a moment to say a word about this before trying to bring everything together. We know how many world religions got their start. We know what most of them teach. Islam started when the Muhammed wrote down the Koran. Buddhism started when Siddartha Guatama wrote down the eight fold path. Mormonism started with Joseph Smith wrote down some intranslatable tablets. In every one of these religions, the founders wrote down what it means to get into God’s good graces. In every one of these religions, it’s about what I have to do to attain salvation. In every one of the world’s major religions, it is up to us as humans to appease God by our actions and our beliefs. In every one of the world’s other major religions, God asks for obedience before showing mercy. Each of the religions is cleverly devised to show this axiom. Only Christianity is different. Only Christianity begins with God coming down and bestowing grace and then asking us for obedience. Only Christianity has God dying for the sake of humanity, offering us His love, and then asking for obedience. One could call this clever, but one could also say this represents a radical departure from human understanding. One could say this represents a tectonic shift in an understanding about God and God’s love. And it all centers around Jesus.
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but so that the world may be saved through Him.
How do we know this to be true? First off, it’s based on eyewitness testimony, and I do not think we have had anything which has shown this testimony to be absolutely untrustworthy. Second, Christianity presents such a radical departure from the norm, that it could not have been devised by human thought, but it had to come from outside of ourselves. It is the only faith that does not have humankind work its way to God, but has God work His way to humankind. “We do not follow cleverly devised myths.” We follow Christ, and we seek to Live His Word Daily. Amen.
Funny enough, the parrot had a problem. The parrot couldn’t distinguish between what was real and what was fantasy. The parrot couldn’t distinguish between what was truly an act and the tragedy that had befallen the ship. Sometimes, I wonder if we don’t have the same problem. Why do I say that?
How do you know Christianity is true?
Perhaps you have never thought about that question. Perhaps you have simply assumed its truth as something taught to you by your parents, Sunday School teachers, pastors, or other such authority figures. Perhaps you have simply been raised as a Christian and so the question has never bothered you. Perhaps you simply haven’t taken or haven’t had the time to deeply reflect upon this faith you have come to participate in this morning. Perhaps you are one of those sitting out there who has had such doubts as you have run into more and more people who have become a part of the fastest growing religious group in our nation: the nones–but you have been afraid to voice your doubts for fear that someone will be disappointed in you or that someone will automatically condemn you to hell. The reasons may be many and varied, but this morning I want to put it front and center in our conversation.
How do you know Christianity is true?
On the one hand, you may simply answer: I know it is true because I have felt a deep, personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ. I know it’s true because it helps me order my life; it makes everything fit; or as C.S. Lewis once said, “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” For some of us, the answer is as plain as this. Yet, in our world today, this point of view is often rebutted by someone saying, “Well, that’s fine for you. What is truth for you isn’t necessarily truth for me. What works for you doesn’t necessarily work for me. Truth is relative.”
And their rebuttal works...IF, if mind you, truth is simply something that works. If truth is simply a way of making sense of the world, then there are myriads of ways of making sense out of life. Who is to say which one is right and which one is wrong? But what if truth isn’t simply something that works? What if truth isn’t just something that gives a person a frame of reference? I mean, we do know that certain frames of reference are better than others, do we not? We know that Mother Teresa’s way of looking at the world is better than those who flew their planes into the world trade centers, do we not? We know the liberties we experience in this nation are better than the brutality experienced by people in dictatorships, do we not? If we begin making such claims, then we are appealing to a higher truth.
And how do we come to know that higher truth? How do we know we simply haven’t created it on our own? Let’s try to work our way through this just a little bit this morning. Mind you, I don’t quite to pin everything down in 15 minutes or so, but I want to begin making a case for the truth of Christianity–a truth you can understand and begin to share with those who offer their doubts.
We will begin with the opening statement of our second lesson this morning from 2 Peter chapter 1 verse 16, “For we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty.”
Stop right here a moment and process this statement. The author of this book, who Christian tradition attributes to St. Peter is blunt. “We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Apparently, there were those who were spreading this thought regarding Christianity. There were those who believed that the whole shebang was completely and totally made up. There are those who adamantly say this about Christianity today, so really, as the Church, we are not facing anything we haven’t faced before. Peter doesn’t mince words, he draws a line in the sand and says, “Nope. This isn’t some kind of cleverly devised myth.” What does he appeal to next?
Again, listen to this carefully, “we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty. 17For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’ 18We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain. 19 So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed.”
We were eyewitnesses to Jesus’ majesty. We heard the voice on the mountaintop. We were there watching this all transpire.
Now, we need to deviate for just a moment. Some scholars have often said that the way the Bible developed is that over a span of decades, people started telling stories. Those stories became embellished as folks told of Jesus’ words and deeds. As time passed, it was thought it would be a good idea to write the stories down and what got written down was the embellished tales and not any sort of historical truth. The myth was written; the truth was lost. This train of thought assumes a couple of things: it assumes that the stories about Jesus were written long after his original followers had died off, and it assumes there were no checks and balances going on in the early Christian movement. It assumes that the eyewitness testimony of the disciples was less important than the embellishment. I think their assumptions are wrong. I’m not the only one. Why is this important?
As people we are geared to accept and trust the eyewitness accounts of people–unless we have a good reason to distrust those accounts. What do I mean by that? Well, let’s say you are having dinner one evening with your significant other. You arrive at a restaurant and are making pleasant conversation. Your significant other begins telling you about her day. She says, “I had a very productive day. I went to work and managed to handle several important cases in a matter of hours. I counseled a couple of junior employees and they are better equipped to handle their jobs. After work, I enjoyed a brisk work out at the gym and am feeling fantastic.”
Would you then look at your significant other and say, “Sounds interesting, but do you have any evidence to back your assertions up?”
How do you think the rest of your evening is going to go?
We are programmed to accept eyewitness testimony unless we have a good reason to distrust it–the person who tells us is found to be a liar; we discover evidence to the contrary; we find others who testify a different set of events.
2 Peter 1:16 is an intriguing piece of scripture as it claims to be eyewitness testimony to the transfiguration. Peter claims to have been there, seen that, and now we have to decide whether or not to trust the account. “We did not follow any cleverly devised myths.”
Let me take just a moment to say a word about this before trying to bring everything together. We know how many world religions got their start. We know what most of them teach. Islam started when the Muhammed wrote down the Koran. Buddhism started when Siddartha Guatama wrote down the eight fold path. Mormonism started with Joseph Smith wrote down some intranslatable tablets. In every one of these religions, the founders wrote down what it means to get into God’s good graces. In every one of these religions, it’s about what I have to do to attain salvation. In every one of the world’s major religions, it is up to us as humans to appease God by our actions and our beliefs. In every one of the world’s other major religions, God asks for obedience before showing mercy. Each of the religions is cleverly devised to show this axiom. Only Christianity is different. Only Christianity begins with God coming down and bestowing grace and then asking us for obedience. Only Christianity has God dying for the sake of humanity, offering us His love, and then asking for obedience. One could call this clever, but one could also say this represents a radical departure from human understanding. One could say this represents a tectonic shift in an understanding about God and God’s love. And it all centers around Jesus.
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but so that the world may be saved through Him.
How do we know this to be true? First off, it’s based on eyewitness testimony, and I do not think we have had anything which has shown this testimony to be absolutely untrustworthy. Second, Christianity presents such a radical departure from the norm, that it could not have been devised by human thought, but it had to come from outside of ourselves. It is the only faith that does not have humankind work its way to God, but has God work His way to humankind. “We do not follow cleverly devised myths.” We follow Christ, and we seek to Live His Word Daily. Amen.
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