Sometimes the fear paralyzes my courage.
Their arms, scarred unfathomably deep, remind me that I have lived a life of privilege. I have slept outside only for the fun of it. Only after purchasing expensive equipment to do so safely. I can count the number of nights I have lived in transition; always from one bed to another. I have never known a night without a promise of morning.
My greatest fear is that my heart will grow hard - that their pain will become routine. That I will stop noticing the scars. But perhaps that is all they want.
Maybe they are counting on my courage to kick in and for me to see them as normal.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
When I was at my college, it seemed that no one could find a pastor who preached a good sermon. The sermons weren't exegetical enough - "He only tells stories" - or they were too boring - "It wouldn't kill him to tell a joke every now and then" - or anything else on the list of complaints.
I was quite critical of my pastors' sermons. This was a reflection of my theological education. There's something about learning the Bible that makes you feel vastly superior to everyone else.
Now I feel differently. I feel that a pastor who cares about his or her congregation really can't preach a bad sermon. A caring pastor might not hit the needs of every member ever week - but he or she will work to meet the needs of the people through the spoken word. And ultimately, I think that's all that matters.
I preach somewhat regularly at Youth to Jesus. I enjoy this role. It's a creative outlet - it's difficult, but in a good way.
I imagine my college peers would feel that my sermons aren't exegetical enough (meaning that I don't go through and explain the Greek word by word and explain every custom of the Hebrew people to extract the exact meaning as originally given) (but, I mean ... I've read Jesus' sermons and it seems to me that he told a lot of stories, too)
I think that some pastors are really great public speakers. And good for them. But, I don't think that should be understood to make them great pastors. Fancy words don't make a pastor great.
Our lives are the sermons we preach most often. I would rather have a pastor who consistently preaches 5s and 6s from the pulpit, but knocks it out of the ballpark with 9s and 10s in daily life sermons.
I was quite critical of my pastors' sermons. This was a reflection of my theological education. There's something about learning the Bible that makes you feel vastly superior to everyone else.
Now I feel differently. I feel that a pastor who cares about his or her congregation really can't preach a bad sermon. A caring pastor might not hit the needs of every member ever week - but he or she will work to meet the needs of the people through the spoken word. And ultimately, I think that's all that matters.
I preach somewhat regularly at Youth to Jesus. I enjoy this role. It's a creative outlet - it's difficult, but in a good way.
I imagine my college peers would feel that my sermons aren't exegetical enough (meaning that I don't go through and explain the Greek word by word and explain every custom of the Hebrew people to extract the exact meaning as originally given) (but, I mean ... I've read Jesus' sermons and it seems to me that he told a lot of stories, too)
I think that some pastors are really great public speakers. And good for them. But, I don't think that should be understood to make them great pastors. Fancy words don't make a pastor great.
Our lives are the sermons we preach most often. I would rather have a pastor who consistently preaches 5s and 6s from the pulpit, but knocks it out of the ballpark with 9s and 10s in daily life sermons.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Healing
My hand suffered a small cut on December 5, 2009. It was a big day and the cut was an insignificant part of it. The cut happened to be only a centimeter or two, but it took months to heal. The emotional damage of that day was significantly more severe - and I don't know how long it will take to heal.
Goodbyes hurt for a lifetime. While my cut was still scabbing over in March, it eventually healed and only left a small scar. I don't know if the rest of me will be so lucky.
An old man was once telling me about his wife. She had died years before, but he described her and his love for her in such words that it seemed that she had passed during the night and the ambulance was still sitting in the driveway.
It's safe to assume that goodbyes don't get easier with age. Just more numerous.
Dad told me that I had to talk louder. I was already yelling, but dad told me that I had to yell louder. I didn't understand, because Aunt Carol wasn't hard of hearing. Only a few weeks before I had shared the joke [How do you make a hanky dance? You put a little boogie in it!] with her. She had shared it with everyone at the hospital. Staff and other patients. She told us about one patient who had escaped from the cancer ward to go drink at a local bar. It was clear from her description of his shots that she may have also escaped for a few drinks. And when she wanted a hug I refused because I was scared. She had so many machines hooked up to her and she was screaming to be heard. I was only 8. I never said goodbye.
[What's harder than saying goodbye? Not saying goodbye!]
Goodbyes hurt for a lifetime. While my cut was still scabbing over in March, it eventually healed and only left a small scar. I don't know if the rest of me will be so lucky.
An old man was once telling me about his wife. She had died years before, but he described her and his love for her in such words that it seemed that she had passed during the night and the ambulance was still sitting in the driveway.
It's safe to assume that goodbyes don't get easier with age. Just more numerous.
Dad told me that I had to talk louder. I was already yelling, but dad told me that I had to yell louder. I didn't understand, because Aunt Carol wasn't hard of hearing. Only a few weeks before I had shared the joke [How do you make a hanky dance? You put a little boogie in it!] with her. She had shared it with everyone at the hospital. Staff and other patients. She told us about one patient who had escaped from the cancer ward to go drink at a local bar. It was clear from her description of his shots that she may have also escaped for a few drinks. And when she wanted a hug I refused because I was scared. She had so many machines hooked up to her and she was screaming to be heard. I was only 8. I never said goodbye.
[What's harder than saying goodbye? Not saying goodbye!]
Monday, July 12, 2010
Sermon July 15th
Mary and Martha.
Luke 9:38 - 42 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"
"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
We enter into a situation of sibling rivalry in our story today. We find ourselves with Jesus seeing an all too common side of human life. There were other sibling rivalries in the Bible – Cain and Able, Jacob and Esau – and they didn’t end so well. We enter the lives and we think we know the story – we think we have lived this story.
My sister and I are four years apart. When we were in school my sister was perfect. I say this not out of spite or in exaggeration, but simply as a fact. It’s _____ insert current weather______ outside today and my sister was perfect. My sister was a natural leader and an obvious teacher’s pet. She would grow up to be a doctor, and her academic resume reflect her future career path. She visited teaching hospitals throughout High School and sang and played her instrument in regional competitions.
I was not perfect. I was awkwardly shaped and couldn’t do many things well. I wasn’t a leader. I didn’t like school and my teachers knew it. I didn’t play an instrument well and I didn’t sing well yet. I did my own thing. I was artsy and thought outside of the box.
It was sometimes a miserable experience to grow up in the shadow of my big sister. I can’t count the times teachers explained to me how much smarter my sister was and how much better she was.
When I read today’s story I immediately tense up. He visited “Martha’s home.” Not the home of Mary and Martha … or even the home of Martha and Mary … but the home of Martha.
We find value in busyness. In offices we jokingly "look busy" when the boss walks through the room. Martha is a busy person. As head of the household it is her responsibility to ensure that everyone is healthy, happy, and well fed. There is always a roast in the oven and dishes to be done. Martha feels as though she simply can't get ahead.
I dislike all repetitive tasks. I always try to get out of doing dishes. Washing, hanging, and folding laundry is tedious. Making my bed is pointless. The same dishes will be dirty and stacked in the sink tomorrow, the clothes will just get dirty again, and no one will see my neatly pressed sheets before I mess them up again the next night.
I tell people that I hate doing these things because I'm a boy - but I think it goes deeper than that. I think I'm a Mary person.
Perhaps the whole world can be broken down into Martha people and Mary people.
We don’t value Mary people the way we should
Mary was an afterthought. Mary could never measure up to her big sister. Perhaps she was a little lazy and maybe not as bright or put together as her sister.
Maybe Mary was all of these things – but at least she had her priorities straight. When she was interested or intrigued she followed her gut. When Jesus of Nazareth came through Mary realized that the dishes in the sink didn’t matter.
Jesus had just come from teaching. He had been out and about and a religious leader asks “Who is my neighbor.” He tells the story of the good Samaritan. In the familiar story, 2 good people pass by one of their own and only the last, a political enemy stops to help the injured man. In David’s telling of the story, the Russian politician is the one who shows mercy.
The question is aked - who is my neighbor? Whom do I have to love? And Jesus resoundly answers … EVERYONE.
And in this setting, the all too familiar setting of sibling rivalry, the question is posed again - whom do I have to love? EVERYONE, even your sister. How often do I have to love? ALWAYS.
As a Christian, I need to love everyone. Even my perfect sister.
They say that sharing your faith with a family member is hardest. Witnessing to a stranger on the street is SO much easier than telling a family member that Jesus loves them. I think that Christians sometimes do street evangelism because they’re too scared to share real life with people.
I was taught once that if you have a hard time telling others about Jesus that you should look at yourself in the mirror. Say, Michael, I love you, and Jesus does too.
The gospel transitions from the abstract to the concrete. Whom do I have to love? “my neighbor”
Ok … what does that mean …. A political enemy and a perfect sister. Yep. Got it.
… How often do I have to love? Always.
I always read this story as though Martha finally got what she had coming. Final vindication for all the awards and diplomas my sister had earned.
I read the story wrong.
Jesus isn’t putting Martha down – he’s lifting Mary up. He’s teaching them to love one another and making them equals. I believe he’s teaching Martha to learn from Mary and Mary to learn from Martha. He’s teaching them to not jockey for position as leader; but to walk side by side – hand in hand as friends.
We see these sisters later on in the Jesus narrative and they are described as inseparable friends. They learned their lesson and began to love one another.
In college my sister stopped being so perfect and I grew up a whole bunch. Jesus has taught us to learn from each other and to walk side by side. I’m not in my sister’s shadow and she’s not in mine.
Some people see this story as an admonition that it’s better to sing praise hymns than to wash dishes. I don’t believe this is the case. Jesus doesn't speak out against the Martha people. Jesus speaks out against trying to change others to fit our mold.
Jesus commends Mary because she has lovingly accepted her sister for who she is. We all show love in different ways – Martha showed love by preparing the house and Mary showed loved by sitting and listening to Jesus – but Mary showed love to her sister by humbly accepting Martha for who she was. Martha had to take that step and accept her sister for who she was.
When we love others we accept who they are. We love our roommates even though they snore at night. We love our friends even though they do so many weird things. We love our families even though they are a little crazy. We love our sister even though she’s perfect.
Jesus doesn't want us to make people more like US - he wants us to make people more like HIM.
This is the essence of the Gospel message. Love God, Love others. Love your brother, love a commie pinko, hug a hippy, share a meal with a stranger, live with less and give the rest away, worship God daily. This is the core of the message.
Do you know that you are the Gospel?
You are the good news of Jesus Christ living in a sad world hungry for something more. Our lives open the Bible to thousands who will never crack the cover. To a hungry man, bread is good news. To a world that has never experienced unconditional love, your kindness is good news. You are the Gospel. You are the proof that Jesus rose from the dead 2000 years ago. Your life of loving service proves His divinity.
Go into all the world and love – even when it’s hard.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Luke 9:38 - 42 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"
"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
We enter into a situation of sibling rivalry in our story today. We find ourselves with Jesus seeing an all too common side of human life. There were other sibling rivalries in the Bible – Cain and Able, Jacob and Esau – and they didn’t end so well. We enter the lives and we think we know the story – we think we have lived this story.
My sister and I are four years apart. When we were in school my sister was perfect. I say this not out of spite or in exaggeration, but simply as a fact. It’s _____ insert current weather______ outside today and my sister was perfect. My sister was a natural leader and an obvious teacher’s pet. She would grow up to be a doctor, and her academic resume reflect her future career path. She visited teaching hospitals throughout High School and sang and played her instrument in regional competitions.
I was not perfect. I was awkwardly shaped and couldn’t do many things well. I wasn’t a leader. I didn’t like school and my teachers knew it. I didn’t play an instrument well and I didn’t sing well yet. I did my own thing. I was artsy and thought outside of the box.
It was sometimes a miserable experience to grow up in the shadow of my big sister. I can’t count the times teachers explained to me how much smarter my sister was and how much better she was.
When I read today’s story I immediately tense up. He visited “Martha’s home.” Not the home of Mary and Martha … or even the home of Martha and Mary … but the home of Martha.
We find value in busyness. In offices we jokingly "look busy" when the boss walks through the room. Martha is a busy person. As head of the household it is her responsibility to ensure that everyone is healthy, happy, and well fed. There is always a roast in the oven and dishes to be done. Martha feels as though she simply can't get ahead.
I dislike all repetitive tasks. I always try to get out of doing dishes. Washing, hanging, and folding laundry is tedious. Making my bed is pointless. The same dishes will be dirty and stacked in the sink tomorrow, the clothes will just get dirty again, and no one will see my neatly pressed sheets before I mess them up again the next night.
I tell people that I hate doing these things because I'm a boy - but I think it goes deeper than that. I think I'm a Mary person.
Perhaps the whole world can be broken down into Martha people and Mary people.
We don’t value Mary people the way we should
Mary was an afterthought. Mary could never measure up to her big sister. Perhaps she was a little lazy and maybe not as bright or put together as her sister.
Maybe Mary was all of these things – but at least she had her priorities straight. When she was interested or intrigued she followed her gut. When Jesus of Nazareth came through Mary realized that the dishes in the sink didn’t matter.
Jesus had just come from teaching. He had been out and about and a religious leader asks “Who is my neighbor.” He tells the story of the good Samaritan. In the familiar story, 2 good people pass by one of their own and only the last, a political enemy stops to help the injured man. In David’s telling of the story, the Russian politician is the one who shows mercy.
The question is aked - who is my neighbor? Whom do I have to love? And Jesus resoundly answers … EVERYONE.
And in this setting, the all too familiar setting of sibling rivalry, the question is posed again - whom do I have to love? EVERYONE, even your sister. How often do I have to love? ALWAYS.
As a Christian, I need to love everyone. Even my perfect sister.
They say that sharing your faith with a family member is hardest. Witnessing to a stranger on the street is SO much easier than telling a family member that Jesus loves them. I think that Christians sometimes do street evangelism because they’re too scared to share real life with people.
I was taught once that if you have a hard time telling others about Jesus that you should look at yourself in the mirror. Say, Michael, I love you, and Jesus does too.
The gospel transitions from the abstract to the concrete. Whom do I have to love? “my neighbor”
Ok … what does that mean …. A political enemy and a perfect sister. Yep. Got it.
… How often do I have to love? Always.
I always read this story as though Martha finally got what she had coming. Final vindication for all the awards and diplomas my sister had earned.
I read the story wrong.
Jesus isn’t putting Martha down – he’s lifting Mary up. He’s teaching them to love one another and making them equals. I believe he’s teaching Martha to learn from Mary and Mary to learn from Martha. He’s teaching them to not jockey for position as leader; but to walk side by side – hand in hand as friends.
We see these sisters later on in the Jesus narrative and they are described as inseparable friends. They learned their lesson and began to love one another.
In college my sister stopped being so perfect and I grew up a whole bunch. Jesus has taught us to learn from each other and to walk side by side. I’m not in my sister’s shadow and she’s not in mine.
Some people see this story as an admonition that it’s better to sing praise hymns than to wash dishes. I don’t believe this is the case. Jesus doesn't speak out against the Martha people. Jesus speaks out against trying to change others to fit our mold.
Jesus commends Mary because she has lovingly accepted her sister for who she is. We all show love in different ways – Martha showed love by preparing the house and Mary showed loved by sitting and listening to Jesus – but Mary showed love to her sister by humbly accepting Martha for who she was. Martha had to take that step and accept her sister for who she was.
When we love others we accept who they are. We love our roommates even though they snore at night. We love our friends even though they do so many weird things. We love our families even though they are a little crazy. We love our sister even though she’s perfect.
Jesus doesn't want us to make people more like US - he wants us to make people more like HIM.
This is the essence of the Gospel message. Love God, Love others. Love your brother, love a commie pinko, hug a hippy, share a meal with a stranger, live with less and give the rest away, worship God daily. This is the core of the message.
Do you know that you are the Gospel?
You are the good news of Jesus Christ living in a sad world hungry for something more. Our lives open the Bible to thousands who will never crack the cover. To a hungry man, bread is good news. To a world that has never experienced unconditional love, your kindness is good news. You are the Gospel. You are the proof that Jesus rose from the dead 2000 years ago. Your life of loving service proves His divinity.
Go into all the world and love – even when it’s hard.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
[Get creative!]
"...creative people, for the most part, exhibit active moods and positive affect. They’re not particularly happy — contentment is a kind of complacency creative people rarely have. But they’re engaged, motivated, and open to the world." - Newsweek, The Creativity Crisis - Bronson and Merryman
I'm a creative person. Hundreds of ideas swirl inside my mind during any second.
I feel that this makes me superior to you.
Rather, I feel that creative people are superior to non-creative people. I imagine that some of you are also creative.
I was sometimes punished for being creative.
Math classes were always boring. Once, I decided to create my own method of solving one type of problems. While my answers were correct, the work was different than everyone else. The teacher failed me for cheating. My mother took the test in to the teacher to show that I had arrived at the answers in a different way - and couldn't possibly have cheated. The teacher yelled at my mother for teaching me at home. I now realize that I had incredible potential in math and science, but that the education system failed me.
Every time I walk into a room I immediately see 10 ways in which the experience of the room could be improved. Churches drive me crazy because they lack creativity and I just sit and think of hundreds of improvements.
I live with other creative people. Our walls should be made of white-board so that we could write down all of our creative ideas. We use scraps of used paper. Sometimes our ideas are even too bizarre for each other. Sometimes I wonder if we are brilliantly creative or insane. One of my flat-mates designed a super-high ant hill this week.
I scrap most of my blog ideas because they are too "out-there." I hate the fact that I have to constantly reign in my creativity.
I'm constantly frustrated that I can't articulate my ideas. Not even that I have to censor myself, but that my artistic capabilities simply don't match up with my creative potential. I don't write well enough to capture the stories in my mind. I can't draw the pictures I see.
I'm a happy person by nature - but I'll never be content. I've never been anywhere I didn't want to leave eventually. I've never had a job that fulfilled me as a person or that satisfied my need to create.
Sometimes I'm incredibly happy and terribly depressed at the same time. I lack contentment because I have creativity in spades.
So maybe I'll help my flat-mate build his ant hill. Perhaps I'll have the dirt-moving skills to build it really high and really great. Maybe it will make me happy and maybe I'll be content. Maybe it will be our masterpiece.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
