Singing a song #NaBloPoMo

This fall, a month or so after choir started, I decided to start going with a friend of mine.

I love to sing.
I can’t say I’m good at it, but I love it.

There is something special about making music that taps into my spirituality.  I’ll find myself singing as I debate a problem or wrestle with a solution. I sing as I pick out hymns. I work to connect the lyrics with the scriptures and message and use the tunes to set the emotional mood of the moment in worship.  I sing when I’m happy and microwaving my lunch (“Hot Pockets”).

I wasn’t sure if I could make the time commitment.  I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about the dual roles on Sunday mornings.  I wasn’t sure if my voice would be too tired.

But let’s be honest… I’m singing my guts out on the hymns and songs anyways.  I might as well stand with the choir for one more.

Tonight, I am exhausted and my vocal chords are tired, but I am so glad I joined the choir. Now I can’t imagine Wednesday without it.

P.S. pictures of people singing without mics look a lot like they are yelling!

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All Will Be Well

 
by ClearlyCassidy

Julian of Norwich, in a time of doubt and struggle, wrote:  All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.

This is my last column in the Circuit Rider because on October 1, I will be beginning a new journey as the Coordinator for Imagine No Malaria with the Iowa Annual Conference.  It is a long job title but a very short and intense ministry that I am very excited about beginning.

My new position will take me across the state, working with clergy and laity, young and old, small churches and the biggest churches, as we together raise funds to end death and suffering from malaria by 2015.  While it might seem like only an outreach project, the truth is, I understand this campaign to be something bigger in the life of our Iowa Annual Conference of the UnitedMethodistChurch.  Working together on this effort will help us build bridges between conservative and liberal sides of our church.  Focusing outward on mission and partnering with our community to raise funds through health fairs and 5k runs and lemonAID stands will help us build relationships outside the walls and revitalize our churches.  That is something that YOU have experienced here in Marengo.  As we turned our hearts to both local and global mission, the Holy Spirit moved in and a spark of love and light ignited in this church.

When I came here to Marengo, neither you nor I knew what to expect.  There is a song that I played frequently in those days to myself called “All Will Be Well” by the Gabe Dixon Band.

The new day dawns, / and I’m practicing my purpose once again. / it is fresh and it is fruitful if I win but if I lose, / Ooooo I don’t know. / I will be tired but I will turn and I will go, / Only guessing til I get there then I’ll know, / Oh oh oh I will know.

I was fresh out of seminary and you were ready to become a fruitful church… but we didn’t know it was going to work between us.  It was a wild guess on our parts… but something amazing for God’s part.

All the children walking home past the factories / could see the light that’s shining in my window as I write this song to you. /  All the cars running fast along the interstate  / can feel the love that radiates /  illuminating what I know is true /  All will be well. / Even after all the promises you’ve broken to yourself, / All will be well. /  You can ask me how but only time will tell.

I don’t know what God has in store for this church… but I know that God will be with you and all shall be well.  I know that God has led you to embrace an amazing mission: to reflect the light of God in Marengo and Iowa County as you step out into the world and pass it on.  I know that the Holy Spirit has been moving strongly in your midst and that God will not leave you or forsake you.  I know that all will be well.  You can ask me how, but only time will tell.

Keep it up and don’t give up / and chase your dreams and you will find / all in time.

You are my first church… and I love you dearly and I will miss you terribly… but all shall be well.  Keep your hearts focused on what God has called you to do.  Give your lives to living out that vision. God bless you all.

Spirit of Singing Along

The sorcerer and the eunuch.

As we continue to follow the Holy Spirit through the lives of the apostles, we come upon two men who have very different attitudes towards the work of God.

In the course of his ministry, the deacon Philip will encounter many people who hear and believe the good news about Jesus Christ… what is it about the sorcerer and the eunuch that make their stories so special?

I believe it is the contrast between their responses that is so telling.

One arrogant and brash, the other humble and full of questions.

For one, the power of the Holy Spirit is a commodity to be bought and sold, possessed and tamed.

For the other, that power is precious, mysterious, and a gift to be treated delicately.

Like with the story of Mary and Martha, we are given a chance to examine our lives, find where our tendencies lie, and invited to choose a better way.

The first major difference in these two stories is how each of them is introduced to the Holy Spirit.

In the case of the sorcerer, familiar with magic and illusion, the Holy Spirit is seen from a far.   Here is a man who has heard the good news of God and joined the fellowship of believers.  He has in some ways left behind his old ways, but he still desires to be the center of attention.  He still wants to draw a crowd.  And so when he sees the apostles laying hands on people so that they could receive the Holy Spirit, he suddenly wants their job.

So he runs over to them and throws down a bag of coins… “I want to do that, too!” he begs. “Give me that authority.”

The sorcerer believes the Holy Spirit is something to be possessed.  The sorcerer wants a new bag of tricks for his show.

On the other hand, the eunuch has the Holy Spirit brought to him.  We can see how she is working behind the scenes… leading Philip to take a certain road, telling him to walk alongside the cart.  She has already been present in the life of this eunuch who is reading the scriptures, hoping to understand them.  And so, when he hears the good news, and an oasis of water suddenly appears alongside their desert road, he asks – what would stop me from being baptised too?  It is not a demand, it is a humble question of faith.

In our journeys of faith, sometimes we get jealous of what other people have – faith that seems so strong, a prayer life that seems so powerful.   We often struggle with what we don’t have.

Maybe you have uttered the phrase, “I wish I could pray like so and so” or “if only we had a choir or a praise band” or “I wish I could read the scriptures like that person.”

There is nothing wrong with wanting to grow in our faith.  There is nothing wrong with seeing what other people are doing and seeking God’s guidance about the ways we can live out our faith.

But in the stories of the sorcerer and the eunuch, we are invited to see that it is not what we don’t have that matters…. what matters is what the Holy Spirit has already brought into our lives.  We can be so busy looking at what others have and what we desire that we can’t see the gifts right in front of us.  One of the things that we will explore later this morning in our workshop is the idea that we don’t have to have a fancy choir in order to be faithful to God… we each have a voice that we can use, we each have a part to play in our time of worship.  Just because we don’t have robes and lights and big voices does not mean that there isn’t a song to be sung.

The other major difference between these two characters is what they are hoping to gain through the Holy Spirit.

While the sorcerer had once been the center of attention, he finds that notoriety fading as a new player, the deacon Philip, comes on the scene.  Suddenly, it is someone else doing the healing… someone else drawing the crowds… and the sorcerer himself is astonished by the power that the followers of Christ possess.

But as soon as he perceives the source of this power, he wants it for himself.  He wants to again be someone that others flock around.  He wants to have the magical ability so that he can carry it to some far off place and again be on the stage with people at his feet.  Our sorcerer is a performer and faith is a tool, a prop, to get him what he wants.  Or maybe its not even quite a cynical as that… Faith is now a part of his life – but he can’t quite give up his old ways and he transforms the faith rather than allowing it to transform him.

Notice, no where did I talk about a community, or a group… faith for the sorcerer was all about himself and what he could use it for.

On the other hand, our eunuch wanted to be included.  He wanted to belong.  He wanted to be a part of a community that understood.

Our text tells us that this African man was coming from Jerusalem where he had probably spent time in the temple worshipping.  And yet, as a eunuch, the fullness of worship would have been closed off to him.  He would only have been allowed into the Court of the Gentiles.  Gary DeLashmutt writes that because of his social standing as a “sexually altered black man from a pagan country” doors were automatically closed for him.  Who knows what his experiences had been in Jerusalem… how many times he had been turned away…

In spite of his standing in the court of the queen of Ethiopia… in spite of his wealth… in spite of all the power he could and did possess, the eunuch knew that he could not buy a place in the family of God.  He knew that there were countless barriers in his way, but all he wanted to do was to belong.

In spite of the threat of further rejection, the eunuch persists and when he and Philip come to that small oasis of water by the side of the road, he asks a heartbreaking question:  “What would prevent me from being baptized?”

He wants to belong.  He wants to join in the fellowship.  And he found in Philip a person who, according to DeLashmutt, “understood that his standing with God was based not on his ethnic identity, moral record, religious heritage, etc.—but through Jesus’ death alone… He understood that Jesus loved this eunuch and was able to give him new life just as he did Philip.” So he leads him down to the water and our eunuch is baptized.

Although our story says that he went on his way rejoicing, we do not know the end of his story. We don’t know where he goes or how his life and his faith continue in the story of God.  But we know that want he wanted was to belong… and when someone finds true welcome, they in turn want to pass it on.

In the stories of the sorcerer and the eunuch, we find a performer desiring a stage and a person seeking a home.  In their contrast, we are reminded that faith through the Holy Spirit is not about me or you, but about us.

Diedrich Bonhoeffer once wrote:  “It is not you that sings, it is the church that is singing, and you, as a member… may share in its song.  Thus all singing together that is right must serve to widen our spiritual horizon, make us see our little company as a member of the great Christian church on earth, and help us willingly and gladly to join our singing, be it feeble or good, to the song of the church”

Many of you are here because you have already found a spiritual home… you have found a community of people to join your voice to.  But at some point in your life, perhaps you, like the eunuch, were searching for a place to belong and a song to sing…

There might not be anything in our text this morning about music, but we have talked about stories and bodies and hopes and dreams and who is welcome and what we want and all of those things have everything to do with singing.

As Colleen will share with us later this morning, music is powerful.  It calls us into being as a community.  It gives us a common language.  Singing takes our whole selves – mind, body, and soul.

Don Saliers, a United Methodist pastor and the Director of Sacred Music at Candler School of theology writes:  “through the practice of singing, the dispositions and beliefs expressed in the words of the hymns – gratitude, trust, sadness, joy, hope – had become knit into their bodies, as integral parts of the theology by which they lived.”

When we sing together, we are reminded that faith is about US not about me.  When we sing together, we are taught again and again about the faith in our music.    When we join our voices together in song, we are telling the world that we belong to God and telling God about this world that we care so deeply about. When we sing together, we are passing on the theology of our mothers and fathers to our children and our grandchildren.

Let us not be sorcerers who want to control and possess the power of God, singing by ourselves – or even worse, letting someone else sing for us while we sit back and watch.. but like the eunuch, let us humbly seek to join our voice with the song of faith that has been sung for so long.   Let us celebrate the faith we have found, and like Philip, not be afraid to pass it on.

Shake It Out… #gc2012

I’m not even sure there are words to describe the last 24 hours. 

My roommate and re-acquainted friend from our youth days, Jessica Ireland, was hit by a truck in an intersection last night.  She came out on the other side sore, scraped up, with deep scrapes on her foot that will take a while to heal… but with no broken bones.  She came back to the hotel late last night and some of us young adult delegates from Iowa kept her company with pizza and conversation and laughter until the wee hours of the morning.

With little sleep, but a heart full of gratitude that Jessica is okay… or at least will be with some time… we headed to conference.

Our agenda today dealt with sex, money, and power. Literally.

Human sexuality occupied most of our morning session… and I do mean most, because after we failed to pass legislation that claimed United Methodist people of faith disagree on the issue, a protest crossed the bar and occupied the space.  We were heading into the morning break, so it didn’t seem like a big deal.  Those of us who gathered shared communion because what else do you do when you feel so broken?  Where else do you turn? 

But as the conference returned from break, it became clear that those who were in the middle were not leaving.  I was back in my seat, but others refused to budge.  After the monitoring report in which our head of GCSRW took off her badge and prophetically helped us to see that all of us are children of God,  Bishop Coyner declared that the conference was unable to continue its business, he dismissed us for lunch (1.5 hours early), and declared that when we returned from lunch at 2pm that the plenary hall would be closed to all but delegates.

I’m going to just say it.  I am an ally of the GLBT community.  I have not always been a strong ally or advocate in the past because I feel it is my pastoral duty to care for all of my flock and to provide a safe space for people wherever they are and whatever they believe.  So, I’m not outspoken.  But my mother-in-law is a lesbian.  I have dear friends who are clergy and/or would like to be clergy who are out.  I have friends and mentors from my years in seminary and working at West End who are gay or lesbian or transgendered and have helped me to become a better Christian.  A good friend from my high school youth group came out to me as bisexual. I have congregation members who have GLBT sons or daughters or grandchildren or siblings. 

So as I watched my brothers and sisters in Christ in pain, I was heartbroken.  We had said once again that we can’t even agree to disagree about this issue. And I saw the faces of those I love and knew that I couldn’t stand by, I couldn’t leave the plenary space if they were there, singing their hearts out, around the communion table.  Not knowing if as a reserve delegate I would be allowed back in if I left for lunch, I sat in my chair and wept with friends.  I prayed with my Bishop. While I knew that I was not prepared or felt comfortable occupying the plenary space or facing potential arrest from the non-violent demonstration, I was determined not to be shut out of the room.  I prayed for a peaceful resolution for that moment… knowing that a peaceful resolution for our denomination would have to wait another four years or longer.

For three hours, those who were around the communion table sang and marched.  And as plenary gathered once again, it was announced all would be welcome back in the room.  And then our Bishops became our pastors.  They calmed our hearts.  They spoke peace.  It was not okay, and they spoke that truth.  Bishop Wenner said:  This General Conference and the polity of our church have hurt you.  She was real.  She was honest.  And we all listened.  And the protest ended and they marched out of the room holding one hand up in the sign of peace. 

Someone tweeted that nothing quiets a protest faster than a discussion of actuarial tables and within minutes, we were ankle deep in pension discussions. And then we talked about delegating the powers of general conference to another body and the petitions (amendments to the constitution) failed. And all day long, I kept looking for the voices of women and people of color and they were few and far between.  I’m not sure if we were tired or beat up or if we just couldn’t get a word in edgewise, but the entire afternoon felt very heavy…

When we came to worship this evening, we weren’t quite sure we wanted to worship.  We weren’t sure our hearts were in it.  But Marcia McFee did it again… the right words at the right time.  The right songs to stir our souls.  The right symbolic actions to bring us together as the body of Christ… and dear Lord, the right bishop to break open the word of God for us.  Bishop Kiesey’s words were like healing balm for my soul.  I was reminded that this work of two weeks is just that – long, hard, difficult work.  But it is not everything.  We are called to feed the lambs of God.  We are called to feed the sheep of Jesus’ flock.  And on Sunday I’m going home to be IN ministry.  To love the flock God has entrusted me with… to lead them… to feed them… to care for and cast nets wide in search of those people in my community who are desperate for God’s love.  None of this matters if we can’t leave this place and go and serve the ones Jesus loves.  That’s it.  Feed his sheep.  Simple. Succinct. So True.

As we closed, the Lake Junaluska Singers broke it down like no other.  A regular dance party broke out on the floor of general conference and we continued dancing until we had worked out all of the tension and stress and weariness of the day.   It was cleansing to let go.  It was holy to let the Spirit move us.  It was joy in the midst of suffering, kindom fellowship in the midst of the broken world. 

My friend, Sarah, told me tonight that there is a reason dancing is a part of a purging ritual in so many cultures.  We can’t carry that pain with us everywhere.  We have to shake it off.  We have to dance it out.  We have to let wild abandon come over us so that we can breathe deeply, replenish our souls, and start over again tomorrow.

Lord have mercy. 

Sometimes… God’s will can kiss my @$$

This week started out rough.  I thought I had an inkling about something very amazing about to happen – but it was going to bring a whole lot of added stress into my life as well.  I spent three whole days psyching myself up about it – so much so that I had pretty much accepted it was going to happen and was excited.

I had a moment however on Monday night when I realized I should pray about it.   I realized that just because I, personally, wanted this to happen, did not mean it was the best thing in the world for me or my ministry or my family.  And that’s kind of what I preached about on Sunday, so I figured I had better take my own advice.  or Paul’s advice.  whichever.

So… I committed to not only praying about it, but that the next morning I was going to ask the small group at the church to pray with me that God’s will would be done in said situation.

Tuesday morning at 8:45, the news came.  It wasn’t going to happen.  The thing I had suddenly been excited for wasn’t going to work out.  End of story.

(I know I’m being cryptic here… but bear with me… sometimes we can’t tell all of our secrets!)

 

I wrestle at times with making firm statements about God’s will.  John Piper has recieved a lot of flack this past week for claiming that the tornadoes that ripped through the lower midwest and southeast were God’s will.  I tend to hesitate when making proclamations about nature.  I hesitate when one person who prayed fervently was spared and another who prayed fervently was killed.  I do believe that God acts and moves among us.  I do believe that God is present with us in every situation.  But do sometimes things just happen?  Does nature just run its course sometimes?  Our sinful decisions have consequences and sometimes we have to blame ourselves rather than God.

But then there are all of these places in the scriptures where God brings out the battering ram and thunder and lightning and seems to lay the smack down.  I would not for one minute say that God doesn’t have the power/ability/just reasons to unleash holy terror.  Heck, I try to be benevolent and good and sometimes I want to call down a thunderbolt or two upon my youth!  (just kidding… I love you guys… most of the time!)

All of that to say, I never know what to do about God’s will.  I don’t know when to claim something was God’s will or not.  I am not always sure how to discern God’s will.

In our weekly lenten study, I shared that one the greatest tools we have available to us in the Wesleyan tradition are the means of grace: prayer, bible study, christian conferencing, communion, tithing, visiting the sick and in prison, etc…  But we have to DO them in a way that really focuses our attention to God.  We can’t go through the motions.  For an example: When I put my money in the offering plate, I have to say to God – I’m giving this to you… I’m trusting you with it… I’m trusting that you will help me to be faithful with it and all of my resources.  It’s not just about doing our “duty” – its about learning to truly depend upon God.  It is about aligning ourselves with God’s will.

And I have been trying to do that.  I have been trying to trust and pray and listen a whole lot more intentionally lately.

So when I decided Monday night that I truly wanted God’s will to be done… I meant it.  And I meant it that I was going to ask others to pray with me.  I truly wanted to know God’s will.  I wanted that to be the guide for this situation.

And on Tuesday morning… I didn’t like the answer I got.

In other times in my life, I wouldn’t have even thought about God.  I would have thought about how dumb the situation was. I would have had a little pity party for myself.  But because I was trying so hard to listen, the simple reality of God’s will smacked me upside the head.

I don’t like it.  I’m not sure I completely understand.  I wish the answer would change.  And part of me really does want to say, “kiss my @$$,” and go do my own thing.

But if anything, this time of Lent has taught me, personally, that our lives are not our own.  If I want to follow Jesus – I have to follow him all the way.  And that means there are some really good things in this world that I don’t need.

Tonight, we sang in worship a really upbeat version of  – “I have decided to follow Jesus.”  It can be sung SO slow, but Lent has been all about joy, so we just owned it and sang it with some gusto.  It was a reminder that I may not like God’s will, but I have decided to follow.  I have decided to keep the cross before me.  And I’m not turning back.  I can do this with God’s help.  I truly believe that God will help me.  So be it.  Amen.

potluck worship

A colleague of mine recently forwarded an email about potlucks and banquets.  It was written by  Dr. Ed Robinson, the president of MidAmerica Nazarene University in Olathe, KS.

photo by: Gözde Otman
Dr. Robinson asks us if our worshipping experiences are more like banquets or potlucks.  And by that he means: do you come to worship and wait to be served, or do you bring something to the experience and try what is offered by others?  (You can read the full article here)
I think it is a fascinating metaphor for both our worshipping life and our experience as the church.  Is the church a place and a program that meets your needs or are you an active participant with something to contribute?  Are you being served or are you serving? Are you a person in a pew or a part of the body of Christ?

I happen to love food.  And I love potlucks even more.  I’m not sure that you can be a good methodist withoutloving these two things!  So, it’s probably obvious where I fall and where I encourage you to land in the choice between a banquet church and a potluck church.

But how do we turn our churches into potlucks?  How do we encourage folks to bring something to the table? (or the sanctuary?)

First, I think we need to create opportunities in worship for folks to be active.  Participation in a responsive liturgy is not enough.  We need to ask people to get up, move around, think, respond, speak, and do things in worship.
This can be scary for churches that are accustomed to stand and sit worship.  But what I have found is that people are hungry for the chance to be stimulated mentally, physically, and spiritually.
In my own congregation, we have interactive worship every so often.  It is never something that is forced upon folks; people can stay seated if they want to. What is important is that whatever we are doing directly is related to the message for the day.
One of the first pieces of interactive worship we used related to the Lent 1 text from Genesis in cycle B.  As we remembered God’s promise to Noah after the flood – we affirmed, as a congregation, that we are blessed by God.  We proclaimed that God desires not the death of a sinner, but that we all repent and live. We celebrated that God promises  to be, and has been, with us through the storms of our lives.
Our youth group prepared the canvases by painting them red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple.  Then, following a brief mediation on the texts, I invited people to come and paint on these canvases signs of God’s promises to us.  We remembered how God has shown us grace and mercy.  We wrote words of hope and life.
Those canvases still hang at the front of our sanctuary.
Second, worship needs to connect with the congregation on a deeply personal level.  It is not enough to simply preach a sermon that talks about the world around us – it needs to apply to what they are daily struggling with.
I have borrowed and adapated resources from a number of different locations, but one of my favorite sites is creativeprayer.com.  One Sunday for worship, we talked about the sins in our own lives and used this idea for confession with sand. All around the room we place 2 gallon buckets filled with sand and handed each person a brown paper lunch sack.  As we wandered around the room, we read the questions above each bucket and if that applied to us, we put a scoop of sand in our bag. They got heavy.  It was a personal journey for each of us – and yet no one could see how much we were carrying.  It was between me and God.
Near the end of worship, we took those heavy bags and we laid them before the cross.  It was one of the most powerful worship experiences we have had in our church, because the message hit you personally.  You carried the weight of your sin to the cross and left it there.  Literally.

Third, the voices of the congregation need to have a space to be heard in worship.You cannot participate if you are not allowed to speak, to sing, to respond, to question.

While we don’t do this every Sunday (and sometimes I wonder, why not!), every so often our worship takes on a form of lectio divina.  We ask folks to reflect on the scriptures and to share with one another what they think.  There are other days when I ask folks to respond with their own questions.  Even hymn sings provide the opportunity for individuals to share their favorite music and why it is a meaningful selection from their own experience.

I have also realized that there are some people who will never speak up during church.  They don’t feel comfortable in front of large groups.  I have attempted at various times to engage in The Roundtable Pulpit: Where Leadership & Preaching Meet sessions where a small group of folks help me to reflect on the text for the coming week.  Those questions and ideas are then woven into the sermon.  It provides an opportunity for voices other than my own to be heard and included.  I love the concept, I have just had a difficult time getting a diversity of people to show up for the weekly gatherings.

Just as we have fantastic cooks in our local congregations, so too do we have people who are gifted in word, song, dance, creativity, passion, experience, and dedication.  Just as we celebrate the good eats that come to the table when we feast together, so too should worship be a feast to God with all people offering together.

born this way

A good friend helped me to find a post by Brian Kirk called “Lady Gaga, Lent, Teens, and Original Sin.” It is a good read, but there are a few tweaks that I might have made to his argument.

In his article, Kirk shows how Lady Gaga’s latest song “Born This Way,” helps teenagers to claim their own place, their identity, in a world that sometimes tells them they have no value.  He connects this message with the Jesus that loves the unloveable and who reaches out to those others have deemed unworthy.

Kirk also spends a bit of time thinking about the counter for this argument, “what about sin?” Kirk responds by talking about while Lent has traditionally been a time in which we confess all that is wrong with us and look to Jesus for salvation, there are some that don’t hold that to be true.  He writes:

For those of us who do not literalize the story of Adam and Eve, there is no need to literalize the Christian interpretation of Genesis in which humankind fell from a perfect creation into an imperfect one and thus had to wait, mired in sin, until a savior could come and pay our ransom. This theological perspective that sees all persons as born into sin is not persuasive for those Christians who acknowledge that we now live on this side of Darwin.

I read Kirk’s response as: “what sin?”

I may not read the story of Adam and Eve literally, but I do recognize that this world we are born into is far from perfect.  The institutions we inhabit are tinged with sin.  The choices we make from the very beginning lead us into temptation.  While I might not ever consider an infant to be riddled with original sin that taints their very existence, sin is an ever present reality that surrounds us.  If there were no sin, there would be no violence, no war, no destruction, no oppression, no bullying, no shame, no guilt, no hate…
We each have a personal role and responsibility in the systems of sin that surround us.  From the things we purchase, to the food we eat, to the ways we treat one another, we participate in sin.  Sometimes that sin is a conscious rebellion and turning away from God and neighbor… other times it is subtle, hidden, and ignorant.
No matter how much we might ignore sin, it has consequences in our lives.  When we act recklessly, we hurt people. When we ignore the cries of the needy, they suffer.  When we waste and pollute, our environment is damaged.  The cup of coffee I purchased this morning has implications and consequences from people I have never met and will never see. The length of time I spend in the shower this morning has financial, social, environmental implications.  Sin is real. Consequences are real.  We were born this way, too.
The song calls us to remember:

I’m beautiful in my way
‘Cause God makes no mistakes
I’m on the right track baby
I was born this way
Don’t hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself and you’re set
I’m on the right track baby
I was born this way

The real question is how we hold these two things together.

How do hold together the fact that we are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:13-14) with the reality that we have all sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23)?

I recently began reading N.T. Wright’s After You Believe: Why Christian Character Matters. He talks about the process of developing virtue in our lives by the thousands of choices and decisions we make in our lifetimes. In the process of doing so, he talks not only about following the rules, but also following our hearts.
This is the same divide that I see between these passages in Psalms and Romans.  If I am wonderfully made, if God loves me, then I can do what I want and follow my heart.  But if I am sinful, then I need rules to tell me right from wrong and to save me.
Wright reminds us we need both.  We need to form our character through the “rules” and to hold one another accountable to what is good.  But we also need to let who we have been created to be shine through… not the “me” that does whatever the hell I want, but the “me” God intends me to be – loving, compassionate, serving one another, humble.  The reality is, that “me” is inside of us.  We were born to perfectly love God and serve our neighbors.  God didn’t make any mistakes in doing this.  But we get off track. We let the world tell us who we should be, instead of our creator.  We turn our backs on that reality.  We sin. Christ takes all of those missteps, all of the sin inherent in our structures, the reality of evil, death, destruction, greed, power… he takes it ALL onto the cross, he dies, and he takes it all down with him.  In Christ, we are finally free from all that which holds us back, from all that prevents us from being who we were truly created to be.
Kirk gets so caught up in sacrifical atonement that he forgets there are other metaphors for the work of Christ on the cross.  Christ liberates our true selves from all that prevents us from being Godly.  Christ shows us how we were supposed to live our lives, according to Abelard.  Jesus is also the Cosmic Christ who transforms all of creation.
This time of Lent reminds me that I was fearfully and wonderfully made and that I have fallen short of the glory of God that lives inside of me.  It challenges me to claim the work of Christ in my life and to be better, to grow, to allow God’s grace to continue to transform me.
Lady Gaga’s lyrics say: I was born this way hey! I’m on the right track baby.
Maybe we should take that as a question.  Who were you born to be?  And are you on the right track?  Are you living the way God intended?  And if not, how do you get back there?
You are fearfully and wonderfully made.  No matter how it is that you were made – black, white, outcast, bullied, gay, straight, male, female, rich, poor – you were fearfully and wonderfully made.  Are you on the right track?

Come Out the Wilderness

As we started this journey of Lent yesterday with Matthew, we entered the place of wilderness and watched as Jesus wrestled verbally with the devil.  It was a rich dialogue of temptation and power and scripture… with some magical teleportation thrown in there for good measure.  But as Keith Mcilwain reminds us, the devil is not all pitchforks and fireworks. (For yesterday’s Lenten Blog Tour reflection click here)

Today, though, we find ourselves in the gospel of Mark.  He is terse with his words.  He is urgent. In less verses than sum up the verbal banter of yesterday, we get Jesus’ baptism, the wilderness and the first description of his ministry.

About that time, Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and John baptized him in the Jordan River. While he was coming up out of the water, Jesus saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. And there was a voice from heaven: “ You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness. ”

At once the Spirit forced Jesus out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness for forty days, tempted by Satan. He was among the wild animals, and the angels took care of him.

After John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee announcing God’s good news, saying, “ Now is the time! Here comes God’s kingdom! Change your hearts and lives, and trust this good news! ” (Mark 1:9-15, Common English Bible)

I find myself caught up in a whirlwind when I read Mark. I find him taking me places faster than I am prepared to go. I am still back in the wilderness… heck, it’s only the second day of Lent – I’m barely IN the wilderness!And here we go rushing back into the world again?My own life has been so chaotic lately, that to spend time with this hurried verion of the gospel exhausts me. And yet, here I sit, with this passage assigned.


(deep breath)


The wilderness keeps calling out to me. 

And in Mark’s text, the wilderness was somewhere Jesus was forced to go.

Other translations have used words like “sent,” “impelled,” “pushed,” “drove.”

But “forced” feels different.  Just because you are sent doesn’t mean you have to go.  You chose to obey.  To be impelled or driven gives me the sense that there is something that urges you on, be it internal or external, and your own will aligns itself with that push.  But to be forced…  it means I don’t want to do something but I don’t have a choice.

Did Jesus want to be in the wilderness?

Did he want to spend forty days wrestling with Satan?  Sure, there were angels watching out over him, but it was also the wilderness!  Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

I get the sense that any rational person wouldn’t choose this situation. Jesus didn’t want to be there, but he had to do it.  He had to spend this time apart.  He had to get ready for what was to come.  Jesus had to make sure his head and heart and body were aligned before his ministry started.  It was going to be a rough journey and he was going to be working with some knuckleheads of disciples… not to mention the cross that would loom before him. 

He had to be forced to take this time apart, because after the wilderness, there was a job to do.

I sometimes have to force myself into the wilderness of Lent, too.


I’m really too busy to spend any extra time in prayer and fasting and study… I’ve got a job to do.  I have important ministry that takes place. 

But when I force myself to stop… when I hand a piece of my life over to God for a while… I find that all those priorities re-align. I suddenly remember it’s not about me.

Maybe it is a good thing that before we can even blink Mark has led us through the wilderness and back out again into ministry. 

When I stop to think about it, I am comforted by the fact that the wilderness is not forever.  It is not something we do just for the sake of doing it.  We don’t even spend time in the wilderness to please God… as our passage reminds us, Jesus has already done that before the time “out there” has begun.

This time apart gets us ready to come back out of the wilderness.

I have recently re-discovered that old song, “Come Out the Wilderness.”  Unlike some versions that are jubilant, I prefer this rendition that is minor and plaintive.

It reminds me that I’m going to come out of this time in the wilderness.

It reminds me that sometimes the wilderness will make us want to weep… or pray… or shout. 

It reminds me that most importantly… when we come out the wilderness, we do so leaning on the Lord.

My ministry is not about me.  It is about proclaiming something that is far greater than I will ever be. I am only one small part of a much bigger body. Even Christ when he came out the wilderness didn’t point to himself, but to God’s kingdom that was coming our way.

We sometimes have to force ourselves to spend time in the wilderness to get our heads and hearts screwed on straight.  We have to force ourselves into this time of discipline, this time of waiting, this time of dependence upon God and God’s mercy, so that when we come out the wilderness, we will remember it’s not about us.