Cleansing with or without the Water (9:30 worship @ OPCC)

Gently – like rain on a spring-warm day –
the words fell into my face, splashing,
rolling, embedding in the burrows of my being:
THE BLESSINGS OF THE CHRIST BE WITH YOU.

                                            – Ann Weems

In John’s unique Last Supper setting in John 13, Peter refuses to allow Jesus to wash his feet, Then he impulsively changes his mind and begs Jesus to wash him all over. When he does, Jesus’ response concludes with an interesting comment, “My concern, you understand, is holiness, not hygiene.”

Holiness, not hygiene. Jesus is more interested in the cleansing of Peter’s spirit than in washing the day’s dirt and grime off of his feet. While this may seem at first like an off-hand, casual comment, it is actually quite significant. In so many words Jesus is saying that while the ritual itself – in this case foot washing – may have a cleansing quality to it, it is only a symbol of the spiritual cleansing God offers. God cleanses from the inside out, and the water God uses is spiritual. This is why Jesus can later tell his disciples, “You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you” (John 15.3). So what is it; word or water? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if it’s a ritual of foot washing or the address of the Word, God’s presence brings about cleansing and wholeness.

When you think about it, this insight throws the doors wide open for spiritual cleansing. God can bless and cleanse us in many, many ways; and a few of them even take place in formal worship gatherings. Through a well-placed word of comfort from a friend, for example, God can bring healing to a fragile life. Or, a glimpse of the panoply of glittering stars at night can recall the mystery and majesty of God, and assure some lucky individual that she or he can relax into God’s loving embrace. And God can use us to bring cleansing to others; say, for example, when a simple act of kindness has an effect far beyond normal expectations, and God’s grace is recognized at work in the situation. In preparation for Sunday’s worship, I invite and encourage you to reflect on times when God has brought healing, cleansing, and wholeness in your life without the use of ritual or water. Then offer a prayer of thanks for God’s loving embrace that finds us smack dab in the middle of everyday life.

Only by Following (Feb 26 in 9:30 worship)

The question that Jesus asks Peter and the other disciples at Caesarea Philippi, “Who do you say that I am?” (NRSV) frames our entire Lenten journey. Just like the disciples we will learn what it means to follow Jesus only on the journey …only by following Jesus. In Mark 8.27-37, just as Jesus and the disciples start their journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, it is clear that Peter has no idea what it means to call Jesus, the Christ. He says it, sure; but at this point it’s just an empty slogan he possibly thinks will impress Jesus. But along the way, watching and learning from Jesus, learning from his own mistakes, allowing God to mold him slowly – ever so slowly – and walking into the gathering darkness that would almost swallow him whole; Peter learns what it means to follow Jesus, and puts some weight behind his confession.

The journey is not always lighthearted, and perhaps it is darkest just before the dawn; but as we journey in faith toward Jerusalem we, too, can learn what it means to follow Jesus, and learn in reality that there is a dawn …the dawn of his rising. Let your Lenten journey begin with a prayer that you will be transformed by the journey, and that you will learn what it means to be molded into the image of Christ.

Back in the Day (Feb 19 in 9:30 worship)

There is a reason we chose Transfiguration Sunday to celebrate “Back in the Day,” decking ourselves in period clothing from yesteryear. Believe it or not, there are many parallels between the disciples’ interpretation of the transfiguration and a common attitude toward our own past. That is to say, when Peter and the others saw Jesus in his glorious reality for the first time, they wanted to freeze and enshrine the event, build monuments so that they could always look back to that day with its excitement, awe, and mystery. But the transfiguration scene anticipates an important event in the future; the resurrection of Jesus. It offers a glimpse of how things will be in God’s future. Enshrining this experience is the last thing Jesus would want. He knew that trying days lay ahead, and this experience was intended to strengthen and empower the disciples to stay the course to its conclusion.

Sometimes we look to the past, the good ol’ days, much like Peter. We want to enshrine them so we can always look back to those days when life was simpler, we were younger, life was stretched out before us, and on and on. But living in the past is no substitute to living toward God’s future. The past, our tradition, is important precisely because it strengthens and empowers us as we live into God’s vision for us. One theologian has compared standing on tradition to riding the crest of a powerful wave. Its roots reach deep into the ocean, providing stability and strength. But we ride its crest onward, always onward toward the future which lies open before us. Perhaps such an attitude could aid us as we seek to discern God’s vision of ministry and fellowship for the days ahead. We can allow the strength of our past to inspire and strengthen us for the future. Are you game?

A Joyful Jesus, A Smiling Savior (Feb 12 in OPCC worship)

I’d like to ask you to read Matthew 9.9-17, and focus your mind’s eye on Jesus. What does he look like? How do you envision his posture, body language, and facial expressions as he goes through this encounter? Is he relaxed and smiling? Is he having a good time? Or is he somber and serene; quietly observing everything going on around him and waiting for the next teaching moment?

Many of us, I am sure, will settle on some version of the serene thing, because it is hard for us to embrace the notion of a joyful Jesus, a smiling savior. But there is ample evidence in the gospels that Jesus was happy, even joyful. In fact, he often got into trouble because he and his disciples weren’t serious enough about required rituals, and instead of fasting like a good Pharisee, he caroused around with ner-do-wells, having a good ol’ time. Jesus used humor in his parables and other teachings, and wasn’t above getting in an ironic jab at Rome from time to time.

Let’s face it; Jesus was happy in his faith; his spiritual life was joyful. So why don’t we see him this way? For that matter, why don’t we see ourselves this way? Why do we so often assume that our faith must be somber and serious all the time? Is there room for joy and laughter in faith? That’s the question we will examine on Sunday.

The Tasks Entrusted to Us (Jan 22 in worship)

The tasks that have been entrusted to us are often difficult.
Almost everything that matters is difficult, and everything matters.
- Rainer Maria Rilke

Every time you turn around Jesus is calling somebody, and the invitation is always the same, “Follow me.” There is a good reason for both the frequency of the call and the repetition of its invitation. Jesus is always calling, both those who have never heard, and even those of us who have begun to respond. And the invitation is always the same. The call is simple, “Follow me.”

Of course, what it means to follow Jesus is not simple; or, at least, we Christians have made it complicated. At any rate, on Sunday we will reflect on what it means for our faith community, the Overland Park Christian Church, to follow Jesus. In order to be the community God wants us to be, we must see clearly to the heart of our mission; the reason behind the tasks entrusted to us, because they do matter and, yes, they are often difficult. We have chosen obedience to a new call from God that will ask a sacrifice of us all in one form or another, and to bring it to completion will require one thing above all, a glimpse of the Christ. There we will find our motivation, encouragement, and empowerment. Let’s seek that glimpse together on Sunday.

Colorless Children… and Adults (from the RELĀT blog)

I watched her go uncelebrated into the second grade, a colorless child, gray among the orange and yellow, attached too much to corners and to other people’s sunshine. She colors the rainbow brown and leaves balloons unopened in their packages. Oh, who will touch this colorless child? Who will plant alleluias in her heart and send her dancing into all the colors of God? Or will she be left like an unwrapped package on the kitchen table— too dull for anyone to take the trouble? Does God think we’re her keeper?
- Ann Weems (adapted for worship)

I love the poetry of Ann Weems, so I want to be forthright and tell you I adapted the poem cited above for our worship needs this week. In short, I changed the word greenless to colorless. I did so to compare colorless children (of any age) to all the colors of God, which are vibrant, rich, bright, and shimmering. To be sure, her image is deeper and richer than mine. Greenless points both to colorless and to the lack of fecundity or fertility; like a wasted, withered tree  incapable of bearing fruit. Nevertheless, for good or ill I simplified the image for our use this week.

That being said, I would like to comment on Children’s Sabbath, which we will celebrate this Sunday. When I read (and reread) the above cited poem, it’s difficult to decide where to focus. It was written, of course, to raise our awareness of (and pique our conscience concerning) the plight of children in our world who are abandoned and bereft of opportunity; opportunity for the colors in life represented by love, joy, creativity, self esteem, education, health, home, nutrition… need I continue? I pray with Marian Wright Edelman of the Children’s Defense Fund that we will recover the courage to stand for and with these colorless children.

It strikes me, however, that the poem refers equally to adults who have lost their color; that is to say, that somewhere along the way they lost the spontaneity, sense of wonder, simplicity, openness, and joy that mark the unique spirituality of children. And how can we help the colorless children if we, too, have lost our color? I propose that we take the time to explore this notion, and make the effort to recover our childlike spirit and dance into all the colors of God, taking all God’s Children with us.

In Search of a Golden Calf (from the Relate blog)

Our worship gathering on Sunday will focus on the story of the golden calf found in Exodus 32.1-14. So the Relate gang thought it would be cool to have a golden calf to display on Sunday. We checked with import stores, craft stores, garden statuary stores and more, and couldn’t find an acceptable calf for less than $1,000. And even at that we would have to paint it gold ourselves! So the bad news is we won’t have a golden calf statue on Sunday.

Something tells me, however, that we don’t really need a statue. We tend to carry a good many golden calves around with us much of the time. That is to say, we tend to create our own gods to worship. Our golden calf may be created by addiction, greed, fear, or the effort to avoid the God whose worship requires self sacrifice; but for whatever reason, we offer up our worship and devotion to our custom created god instead of remaining faithful to God.

On Sunday we will take time to identify our personal golden calf, and seek together to discern how to put it aside. Between now and then, we invite you to reflect on the following prayer:

O God, our golden calf has an insatiable appetite. “Bring me all your ornaments,” it demands; “Bring me everything that glitters.” We thought the golden calf was dead, or the invention of ancient story tellers. We thought the golden calf was gone for good. But no – like a stubborn pest that will not go away, like shame, like desire, it gores our spirits still, demanding to be fed. We know it’s audacious to ask for your help God; after all, we ourselves have created our calf. But we do ask God, because we know that only your grace, only your compassion can save us from our own greed; can set us on a right path; can transform our spirit and make us anew. Spirit of God whom we adore, melt and mold us anew as we offer our praise. Amen

I Am a Rock (from the Relate blog)

Or am I? Depends on what you mean by rock. In the song “I Am a Rock,” Simon & Garfunkel (one of my favorite duos from back in the day) use  rock as a metaphor for being withdrawn, aloof, independent… totally alone. Take, for example, the second verse in which Simon sings, “I’ve built walls, a fortress deep and mighty, that none may penetrate. I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain. It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain. I am a rock, I am an island.”

This is far from the sense Jesus intends when he calls Simon a rock in the dialogue found in Matthew 16.13-20. This rock refers to the strong foundation of faith on which God can build. There is a sense in which Jesus is looking a “fer piece” down the road, because Simon (renamed Peter by Jesus) is anything but a sure foundation at this point in his journey. He will have to be transformed completely; he will have to embrace all of life with its celebrations, growth, suffering, failure and humiliation, and even death. He will have to let God build on the foundation of faith every step along the way. Then and only then will he be a rock.

I won’t speak for you, but I rarely feel rock solid in my spiritual life. I feel more like the fumbling, stumbling, denying Peter we have come to know and love from the gospel stories. But that’s the point. Jesus is looking a “fer piece” down the road when he calls each of us rock. We, too, must become rocks by embracing all of life and allowing God to transform us each step of the way. And, one last thing, we can’t do it alone. On Sunday (August 21) we will explore this image and its meaning for our faith journeys. Between now and then I think I’ll listen to some S & G.

Life as a Parable (from the Relate Blog)

We had a stirring discussion last Sunday (July 24) about “why” Jesus taught in parables. We often ask about the “what” of parables, e.g. “What in the world do these things mean?” but we seldom wonder about the “why.” I think this is a very important question. Think about it. If anyone is qualified to describe God and provide precise theological statements, it would be God incarnate, aka Jesus. Yet Jesus never describes God, and never really talks about things like doctrine and religious beliefs (except to criticize narrow and rigid beliefs). His best known teaching, the Sermon on the Mount, makes no statement at all about what to believe, but offers lots of suggestions about how to live a spiritually vital life.

I think the parables do the same thing. Jesus tells stories for two reasons. Firstly, as a sign of respect for the mystery of God. Jesus knows that we can neither comprehend nor describe God in any adequate way. God is always “more” than any words can convey. So Jesus tells stories that convey hints about what God is like. Secondly, Jesus tells stories of everyday life because that, he knows, is where we will find God. We don’t find God in a statement of belief, in a creed, or in some other written word. We find God in an incarnate word; that is to say, in our experience.

This, I am convinced, explains the significance of story in the ministry and teaching of Jesus. He does not counsel us to sit around talking “about” God in statements of belief, but rather to pay close attention to our lives, and to discover the many ways God becomes present to us. We may not be able to know and describe God intellectually; but we can choose to feel God’s presence – God’s real presence – in the forgiveness of a parent or a friend, in the compassion of a stranger, or in the experience of a sunrise.

Rainer Maria Rilke, my favorite poet, understands the difference between talking (always inadequately) about God, and feeling the touch of God in our lives. He says as much in the following poem:

Why am I reaching again for the brushes?
When I paint your portrait, God, nothing happens.
But I can choose to feel you. At my senses’ horizon you appear…
- Rainer Maria Rilke (adapted)

Real Men or New Men?

You know what is typically meant by “real men” in our culture: macho, headstrong, ambitious, aggressive… and they don’t eat quiche! C S Lewis held up a somewhat different model for men, at least Christian men. I cite it here for all us dads to peruse and practice:

“Already the new men are dotted here and there all over the earth.  Every now and then one meets them.  Their voices and faces are different from ours; stronger, quieter, happier, more radiant… They do not draw attention to themselves.  You tend to think that you are being kind to them when they are really being kind to you.  They love you more than other men do, but they need you less.  When you have recognized one of them, you will recognize the next one much more easily.

- C S Lewis (from Mere Christianity)