Self-Definition

Acts 13: 1-5, 13-16, 43-52

About two months before the pandemic began, I was on renewal leave. 

Honestly, that time was such a gift. 

I was able to refill my cup and energize my spirit and I don’t know how I would have made it through the last 18 months if I had been as worn out as I was at the end of 2019. 

That time was spent sleeping, traveling with friends, baking bread, and focusing on my spouse… with a little bit of reading thrown in. 

In fact, almost every day, I read through a chapter of Cloud and Townsend’s book, “Boundaries” as I tried to re-center my ministry and establish some healthier patterns.

I got to thinking about that book again as I thought about the ministry of Paul and Barnabas.

You see, this section of Acts focuses on some of the differentiation between the Jewish and early Christian communities. 

As we talked about last time, this was no longer simply a subset of the Jewish faith. 

This new movement in Antioch was a multi-national, diverse, community of Jews and Gentiles. 

“Christians” they called themselves.

In order to take on their own identity, you have to set some boundaries. 

You have to talk about what you are and what you aren’t. 

And that is going to cause some conflict. 

In their book, Drs. Cloud and Townsend describe how infants and children develop boundaries and I think it is fascinating to compare how these stages might also describe how this early church community began to think of themselves.

We think of ourselves, after all, as part of the same family tree. 

So from the infancy of the Christian movement to the time it established itself as its own unique identity, there are some very interesting dynamics at play that have shaped our scriptures. 

Let’s look at them…

An infant’s first task is to bond with their parents and there is “no sense of self apart from Mother.” 

Or another way that Cloud and Townsend put it, “Mommy and me are the same.” (p.67)

An infant simply can’t understand their existence without the presence of their parent and often you will notice distress if that person is gone. 

As Jesus and the disciples engaged in their ministry, they understood themselves to simply be a part of the Jewish faith. There was no difference and so much of what we find in the gospels describes how this new movement and the Jewish faith are one and the same.

You can’t read through the gospel of Matthew, in particular, without stumbling all over quotes from the Hebrew Scriptures.

Luke’s gospel, however, has a slightly different spin on it.

As the author of Acts, he writes from the perspective of having witnessed the expansion of the good news to a community beyond Israel.  So everything he writes comes through that lens.

But he, too, records the preaching of folks like Peter, Stephen, Philip, and Paul and each and every single one of them start their messages with the understanding that they are part of the people of Israel and remind folks of God’s promises to Moses, Abraham, David, and the prophets. 

There is no sense of the Christian faith apart from the Jewish faith in these first stages. 

Hopefully, an infant will discover that “Mommy and me are not the same,” and claim their own identity.  This separation and individuation is a healthy and natural part of development into a unique self.   

So as we think about how the Christian faith became its own separate identity, I find it fascinating to think about the three critical phases that Cloud and Townsend discuss in how children create boundaries with their parents. 

They note that how the parent and child responds to these phases either creates healthy or unhealthy boundaries and we can see that in the responses of each throughout the book of Acts.  

The first of these phases is called hatching.

“During this period,” they write, “babies begin moving out of their passive union with Mother into an active interest in the outside world. They become aware that there’s a big, exciting world out there -and they want a piece of the action!”  (p. 69)

So many of the moments that we have touched on in the Book of Acts describe this kind of wide-eyed excitement. 

The disciples begin their ministry in Jerusalem, worshipping at the temple every day, but you also see them growing and deepening in the kinds of things they discover about themselves.

New people flock to this movement every day as it tries out new things… like how they fellowship and care for the needy among them. 

They start to discover some ways that they are not the same as the Jewish religious establishment and the messages of folks like Peter and John before the council evidence this.

They point to how they embraced the named of Jesus Christ, but those leaders rejected him.

But just as this period of development is incredibly difficult for a parent, who may not be ready to let their little one go off on their own, there is an attempt from the religious leaders of the Jewish community to rein in the leaders of this new movement. 

Not only were there warnings, but a wave of persecution beginning with the death of Stephen that were all designed to bring this new movement back into the fold… back into what we would call an enmeshed relationship where there is no difference in belief or identity allowed. 

The second phase of this separation, Cloud and Townsend call practicing

They note, “the difference between hatching and practicing is radical.  While the hatching baby is overwhelmed by this new world and still leans a great deal on Mother, the practicing child is trying to leave her behind!” (p. 70).

And you see this as a child takes their first steps and learns to walk… and then run… often away from said parent towards something new.  “They want to try everything, including walking down steep stairs, putting forks into electric sockets, and chasing cats’ tails.”

In many ways, this phase is defined by exploring the limits and in a healthy relationship, an infant is able to dive in head first, because the parent is there to provide safety and encouragement when needed. 

What I find fascinating in the development of the Christian faith, however, is that this particular phase initially comes not through the excitement of discovery, but as the church is scattered to the four winds because of persecution.

The movement goes to places like Samaria and Damascus and Antioch, initially because they ran out of fear. 

And yet, the power of God through the Holy Spirit is what provides the encouragement to explore and expand and discover new things about themselves. 

Philip baptizes the Ethiopian eunuch.

The apostles discover that one of their greatest enemies could become one of their greatest allies. 

Peter learns that God shows no partiality.

Barnabas encounters a new multi-national diverse community. 

But what happens in the midst of this exploration when you bump back into the parent? 

Cloud and Townsend writes that in this phase, “children learn that aggressiveness and taking initiative are good.” 

And we see the healthy development of these attitudes in the church as Barnabas and Saul… who starts going by his Roman name, Paul… are sent out as missionaries by the church in Antioch.

Their first missionary journey leads them to many different cities and communities and they always head first to the Jewish synagogue to talk directly to their fellow Israelites. 

But as we saw in our scripture today, they have their eyes also on the Gentiles in the community. 

In some cases, that initiative and message is welcomed and the people embrace what they have to say.  But not everyone does. 

In city after city, there are Jewish leaders who are upset and jealous of what Paul and Barnabas accomplish. 

And these missionaries, in turn, push back with their own harsh words. 

Chapters 12, 13, and 14 are filled with a growing tension and violence even spills out onto the streets in some of these places. 

The third phase of this healthy separation is called rapprochement.    

Cloud and Townsend describe this phase as “a return to connection with Mother, but this time it’s different.  This time the child brings a more separate self into the relationship.  There are two people now, with differing thoughts and feelings.”  (p. 72)

While it might sound like this is a much more harmonious way of relating to each other, this phase of development in children is also known as the “terrible twos.” 

A toddler might express anger as they realize they and other people are having different experiences. 

Words like “me” and “mine” are incredibly common in their vocabulary because they are claiming their own self. 

And, they learn how to say, “no.”  They discover the power to make their own choices. 

Our journey through the Book of Acts will only begin to touch on this particular phase of separation between the Jewish and Christian communities. 

But I think it is important to have these ideas in the back of our minds as we look at how the church develops and its relationship with the Jewish community.

The reality is, we did not always do so in a healthy way. 

There were seasons of anger and persecution that went both ways.

There were hard feelings that you can still see on the pages of scripture as these first Christian communities tried to claim what was theirs – by pushing away and blaming their Jewish siblings.

Sometimes when we read the words of Paul or the gospels, we can feel that animosity. 

When I think about it as simply being a part of this process of separation and forming their unique identity, we start to understand where that anger or distance or blaming comes from.

Where we go wrong is when we read these passages at face value and continue to be hostile towards one another.

For centuries… millenia even… we carried that spirit with us and it grew into a deep seated anti-Semitism and even supercessionism that took millions of lives. 

Just as sometimes these phases of development in infants create long lasting trauma and injury, the development of a unique Christian identity was fraught with problems.

But there can be healing. 

We can establish new patterns and boundaries. 

Just as the goal of a healthy separation or creation of a unique sense of self in a child is to form the ability for a parent and child to be in relationship as individuals… we can celebrate the many ways we have been able to have a much healthier relationship with our Jewish siblings.

We are not entirely the same.

But we are also not entirely different.

We come from the same family. 

And we are blessed if we can find ways to repent and repair and rebuild our relationships. 

What Happened in Damascus?

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Text: Acts 9:1-20

Our scripture today starts with lines drawn in the sand.

Us verses them.

The faithful, orthodox, Jewish leader vs. the rebellious believers of the Way.

Division.

Destruction.

And everyone so sure that they were on the side that was right.

You know, on this national holiday weekend, I can’t ignore how this kind of “us” vs “them” language echoes the kind of nationalism we find too often in the world. 

We, the shining city on a hill have been blessed by God.

And in defense of our beloved nation, we’ll come after anyone who disagrees with us.

Anyone who is a threat to our way of life and our values.

That is what Saul was doing, after all. 

He believed in his tradition, in the law, in who God had called him to be.

And he was willing to defend it all with his very life… taking other lives if he had to. 

If you weren’t with him… you were against him. 

But in the same way, that “us” vs “them” mentality was present in the followers of the Way of Christ. 

When Ananias receives a calling from the Lord to go to Saul, his very first response is to name that man as doing evil… compared with the saints on his own side. 

Good verses bad.

Right verses wrong.

Insiders verses outsiders.

Both have cause for why they believe what they believe.

Each can point to actions of the other that would justify their own positions.

There is that old adage that there are two sides to every story and today, I certainly don’t want to get caught up in excusing either side from their actions.

Nor do I want to say that there is not, in fact, a good… a standard… a godly measure of how we should be that we should all be held up against. 

Maybe more of what I’d like to note is a simple observation from Stephen D. Jones, “not many of us are ‘breathing threats and murder’ against our opponents.  However, we have all been on wrong paths… We have all been headstrong, stubborn, blinded to our own ambition, selfish to meet our own need…”[1]

And in part, I think this story of what happens in Damascus is a reminder that God is not interested in the lines that we have drawn.

God is not interested in the labels we throw at one another. 

God doesn’t care about our nationality or pedigree or longevity with the faith.

God is not interested in our us verses them arguments.

In fact, God flips all of the scripts and expectations on their head to change everyone’s lives and instead orient us towards life in the Kingdom of Heaven.   

In our Acts study book, N.T. Wright calls Saul a “hardline, fanatical, ultra-nationalist, super-orthodox Pharisaic Jew.”

And yet… he’s the guy that Jesus calls to reach out to the non-Jewish, Gentile community. 

Ananias is likely a newcomer to the way of Christ.  Damascus was about 135 miles from Jerusalem and you can’t imagine that in this short of time that the good news about Jesus would have taken a very deep hold this far out yet. 

And yet, this non-Israelite is the one who Jesus calls to go to Saul.

This non-apostle, non-deacon, ordinary, regular guy is the one who God uses to heal Saul and who baptizes him with the Holy Spirit. 

In many ways, God is telling us that it doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from or what your story was… 

You, too, just might be called into this inside-out, upside-down, community of Christ.

No one is safe from God breaking in and disrupting everything you thought you knew about your life. 

And that… well… that’s a little terrifying. 

As a pastor, I sometimes shy away from this story about Saul’s dramatic conversion because it really is just too incredible.

He is a guy who literally makes a 180 degree turn in his life.

He goes from persecuting Christians to preaching the cross of Christ.

His old life dies on the Road to Damascus and three days later, he is born again as an apostle of Jesus. 

There are very few of us who can compare our stories with his and William Muehl writes that this can give us a bit of a “faith inferiority complex.”[2]

Or, maybe even more than that, we fear something coming along to cause such a dramatic change in our lives.

Over these last sixteen months, we experienced what it is like to have life come to a stand-still and have everything that we knew to be “normal” upended.

It isn’t something we seek out unless we are desperate or at the end of our ropes.

Maybe that’s why we identify a bit more with Ananias in this story.

You know, the ordinary fellow, going about his day, who gets called to walk down the street and pass along a message to his mortal enemy. 

What… that doesn’t happen to you on a regular basis?

I just have to keep telling myself that the main character in this story is not Saul. 

And it’s not Ananias. 

It is Jesus Christ. 

For many chapters now, the disciples and apostles have been talking about Jesus.

But he shows up and calls these two individuals to action. 

This is a word about how our Savior continues to show up in the lives of unexpected people to challenge us and push us beyond everything we thought we knew and understood.

Beyond our boundaries and borders and beliefs.   

And sometimes, that happens in a heartbeat – like it did on that road to Damascus.

But sometimes, it happens over a lifetime. 

Sometimes, truth comes to us in a dream or a sign or a message…

But sometimes it comes through a friend who has the courage to tell it like it is. 

All around us, God is moving…

God is pushing us beyond our artificial divisions…

God is opening up our eyes…

God is calling us out of our privilege and bias…

Jesus stands before us, waiting for us to stop breathing threats and running from enemies and to start working together for a Kingdom that is far wider and more expansive than we could ever imagine. 

May it be so. 


[1] Jones. Stephen D. Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 2, p 403.

[2] William Muehl, Why Preach? Why Listen? (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), 11.

The art of cuddling

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I remember as a little girl when my mom would sit leaning on her side on the sofa and I could curl up in the cozy little spot that her legs made. It felt like it was a spot just for me. A place of safety and warmth and love.

As an adult, my spouse and I don’t have children – but we do have cats that like to cuddle.

Turbo is very extra particular about how he likes to cuddle. Usually, it is at the most inconvenient time (like when you are sleeping) and he has to be touching a minimum of two body parts at once (like an arm and your chest, or your head and your neck, or your leg and your stomach) and it takes him 15 minutes of moving around and going back and forth before he flops down exactly where he wants to be.

Tiki on the other hand wants a spot that is just far enough away for him to be self-differentiated. He’s a cat after my own heart, because his favorite spot is the same one I gravitated towards as a child, snuggled in the bend of a leg when someone is reclining or sleeping.

During this time away on renewal leave, I’ve had some really great time available to cuddle with my spouse. For some reason, cuddle time had been relegated to bedtime and we had found ourselves in the habit of keeping our own spaces the rest of the day. On the couch there is often a throw pillow or a whole cushion between us. Or we find ourselves in separate rooms all together, watching our own shows or doing our own thing. That is when I’m not spending my evenings and weekends at church.

But one afternoon last week, we cuddled on the chaise together for nearly two hours in the middle of the afternoon. There was nothing on the television… it was just us. We watched it snow. We giggled. We made plans for the coming week. We discussed some things we had been neglecting. We simply rested in one another’s presence. It was a place full of warmth and safety and love.

It struck me how long it has been since we had simply spent that time with one another… in not just close physical proximity, but that mental and emotional and spiritual kind of way, too. In that kind of way that blurs the line between where one begins and another ends.

I’ve been reading Cloud and Townsend’s book “Boundaries” during my renewal leave ( I have a lot of thoughts about this book – some positive and others not so much – but that’s probably another blog post), and one of the key messages throughout is that bonding is key to building good boundaries. In order to set boundaries, you need to know that you are loved, safe, and accepted. You need to know that in conflict, those things don’t and won’t change.

It’s why that space curled up with my mom was so important as a kid. I knew that no matter what, she was going to be there for me.

It was vital in the early stages of my relationship with Brandon. We would sit for hours in the back of his truck and cuddle up stargazing. We would sit close at movies with arms around one another. We would hold hands in the parking lot at school and talk until it got dark. Whenever we traveled with family, especially in those early years, I could tell the anxiety of the new places and people and relationships could all be soothed away at night when we snuggled in close together… just the two of us.

But it is also something that my spouse and I have been neglecting a bit in our relationship. When our time was occupied with chores and dinner and television watching an arms length apart, we were not reinforcing that message for one another. And in fact, some of the other messages we were sending had nearly the opposite effect.

We’ve been cuddling a bit more. Creating space for one another on the couch while watching a show. Intentionally stopping by one another’s space even when doing separate things to offer a squeeze or rub a shoulder or just cuddle for a minute. And taking time to literally stop everything and simply be present with one another.

I think it’s helping us to re-establish for one another that safe place of acceptance and love that has allowed us to engage in some other conversations in our life with a different sort of energy.

What are you even doing here?

I am exactly nine days into my renewal leave and I had a dream last night about an Administrative Council meeting.

I was back at church with all of those familiar faces, reconnecting and catching up and it was wonderful… only something was terribly wrong.

I wasn’t supposed to be there.

Last night, in reality, there was an Ad Council meeting at church and I didn’t actually go. We have great capable leaders and they are awesome without me.

But in my dream… I was there.

In my dream, I had stopped by for some reason or another. And I kept talking with people. I kept answering questions. And before I knew it, I looked at the clock and it was 10:15 pm!

I remembering a feeling of intense panic. I was on renewal leave. I wasn’t supposed to be there. I was supposed to be home with my spouse and I had completely blown him off. I turned to a colleague who was sitting next to me with terror all over my face. He looked at me, partly with pity and partly with frustration. “What are you even doing here?” he asked.


One of the things that I find incredibly difficult is disconnecting from work. Because I love it. Because I’m good at it. Because it feels good, even when it is stressful, to help other people and make things work the way they should.

So far, I confess, on this renewal leave I have checked my email once.

I was looking quickly for responses to a very last minute proposal I had about changing a meeting date when I returned. I wanted to see what the responses were so I could communicate the date change with my family.

But I also glanced and saw a notification from the hospital about a church member who had been admitted. The feelings of guilt started to creep in. What if they need me? What if no one shows up? What if, heaven forbid, someone dies while I’m gone? I had to pray to God for peace and talk myself down for about an hour. “This is why you left them in the absolutely capable hands of an amazing colleague… Even Jesus took breaks… You are not the be-all and end-all of the care system at that church… Even if you miss a funeral while you are away, that doesn’t mean that you can’t still provide care when you get back...”

But there was also that pesky internal critic: “See, this is why you shouldn’t check your email when you are supposed to be on break. It sets you on a tailspin of wanting to be there and respond and make it all better. And that’s not what this time is about.

And you know what… that internal critic is right. There do need to be boundaries between my church life and my home life. I need to be able to have some dedicated space carved out for sabbath and family and renewal – not just during these four weeks, but every week. Every day, really.

For years I have had a signature line on my email that reads, “Fridays and Saturdays are my Sabbath days. I look forward to responding when I am back in the office on Monday.”

But in the past year, have I actually stopped checking my email on the weekends? Have I been holding firmly to that boundary?

The week before I left, I sent a pretty important email to my SPRC chair. Before bed, I checked my email, saw he had responded, and shot off a reply.

And immediately I got another back. He said something to the effect of: Are you on call 24/7?

It was a reminder that the expectations I have been putting on myself are not the same as what the congregation actually needs or expects.

Or maybe it should have been heard more like that colleague in my dream, with pity and frustration: “What are you even doing here?

There have been legitimate emergencies and exceptions in the course of my ministry that have called me away from my Sabbath and home time. The panicked texting of a teenager in the middle of the night who feels unsafe. The early morning trips to the hospital before a surgery to pray. The call on a Saturday afternoon that someone has died. Two entire weeks spent out of state for General Conference.

But an email is not an emergency.

A meeting I am not responsible for is not an excuse for breaking boundaries.

A text or voicemail that can wait until the next day is not a sufficient reason to give up time with friends or family.

And maybe in those spaces and those moments when I am tempted to show up or respond or engage I need to keep that voice in the back of my mind:

What are you even doing here?

That voice comes along with other questions like:

  • Why have you given this energy when it can wait?
  • Why are you sacrificing this time you have set aside for family?
  • Is this really about them? Or is it about you and your own need to feel needed?
  • What are you avoiding by choosing to spend your time this way?
  • Who else can help/support/respond?

I woke up from that dream with my heart in my throat. I’m anxious that this time of renewal and rejuvenation will simply result in a return to old patterns and behaviors.

I mean, I’ve never been five hours late home, like I was in this dream… but I have spent an entire evening only partially present: checking emails, responding to texts, thinking and pondering something that needed to be done the next day.

And when I’m in that space, the truth is, I’m not really home. Not fully, anyways.

So if nothing else, one of the things I want to carry back into the real world with me is the avoidance of that little voice: “What are you even doing here?”

And I think that I can prevent that question from needing to be asked by utilizing some tools that have been really helpful during this time away. Things like changing my notification settings on my phone so that emails don’t show up during evening hours. Or, putting my phone with my wallet instead of carrying it around all the time. Or removing the Facebook app from my phone. Honestly, its randomly coming across a pastoral care concern or a church polity question on facebook that often prompts me reaching out with an email or a text or response when it could legitimately wait until the next day.

I think remembering that little voice will hold me accountable to my boundaries. I think it will remind me that I don’t have to be “on” 24/7. I think it help me think of those who are impacted by where I choose to spend my energy – for good or for bad. There is a whole lot of truth jam-packed in that little question: “What are you even doing here?

Who Is Included in We?

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Everyone loves a hometown hero…
The kid who excelled at sports or music or science and then went away to accomplish their dreams.
When they return home, that child is often greeted with love and adoration as friends, family, and neighbors cheer on one of their own.

This was the case when Jesus came back home to Nazareth. He stopped by and visited friends and family, broke bread and shared stories.
But then, on the Sabbath, Jesus went with others to the synagogue and was invited to read from the scroll. He opened up Isaiah and began to read…

As he did so, the people realized that their little Jesus was all grown up. They celebrated him. They raved about how articulate he was and what a powerful speaker he was.

And then they wanted him to perform for them all of the miracles he had done for others.
It if it was good enough for them, it’s good enough for us.

And Jesus refused.

Not because he couldn’t do those miracles…
But because his understanding of calling and purpose was far bigger than that small community in Nazareth.
The Word of God, the Son of Man had not come into this world to save only his own neighborhood… but all of humanity.
The entire community revolted and turned against him as a result, driving him from town.

Last year, the film Wonder Woman brought to life a superhero who also understood her calling and purpose to be bigger than her own community.
Diana of Themyscira is an Amazonian – a people who were created by the Gods to watch over and protect humanity from their bent towards destruction. They believed they had accomplished their task and have retreated away to live on a peaceful island paradise, protected from the outside world and totally unaware of the conflict and struggles of others.
Until war shows up on their doorstep.

While the rest of the Amazons don’t believe that this is their battle to fight, Diana believes that they are called for just this purpose.
She argues with her mother, the leader of the Amazons, and eventually sneaks away in the dark of night so that she might journey “into the world of man, bringing with her the ideals of justice, equality, peace, and love.”
Her mother, Hippolyta catches up with her just as she is about to depart and instead of a blessing, she speaks these words to Diana…
“You have been my greatest love… today you are my greatest sorrow.”

In both the story of Jesus and Wonder Woman, we find ourselves stretched to think beyond our own community, beyond who we have typically defined as “we.”

Every community needs boundaries.
To have a sense of identity and purpose we define ourselves by what we share in common and what we value and hold dear.
This is something that pastors do often when speaking with a congregation. To build a sense of energy and camaraderie, I will often find myself talking about the things that we believe or do or say.
“We believe this…”
“We all understand that…”
“We feel called to x, y, z…”

Whenever using that term, “we”, however, it is important to think about who we are including.
In some ways, we use the word “we” to limit the boundaries of community and group ourselves into “us” verses “them.”
And, we assume that everyone who is sitting with us thinks and believes the same as ourselves.

As your pastor, I know that isn’t true!
The reality is that we find ourselves at various stages in our Christian faith and have doubts and struggles with different aspects of that faith.
We are more diverse than we like to believe.
Just to demonstrate… shout out your favorite color…

If I stood before you all and said, “We love the color blue,” not only would it not be true… but it would begin to exclude those of you who feel differently.
In the same way, I couldn’t faithfully stand before you and say, “We are conservative” or “we are liberal”… or even “we agree to disagree.” If I did, good portions of this congregation would feel excluded.
We have to be careful about how we use the word “we” because it lumps people together in ways that are unfair or inaccurate…

But we can also use “we” to expand our sense of belonging.
The people in the synagogue responded so favorably when Jesus first began to speak… perhaps because they had a limited sense of who he was talking about.
They nodded in affirmation, hearing the familiar words of Isaiah that had been a part of their tradition.
And yet, Jesus stretched their application of that scripture.
He expanded those familiar words to be about more than just their own liberation and salvation and healing.
He wanted them to understand that the “we” God has come to save is about far more than Nazareth or the Israelites… but was for the entire world.
And that stirred up anger and discomfort.

There is a poem I read once by Eddie Askew that describes that feeling of discord that comes when we are pushed beyond our definitons of “we”:

And, suddenly, I notice with unease, you standing with them, outside the boundary wire of my concern. Not asking that they be admitted to my world, but offering me the chance to leave my warm cocoon, thermostatically controlled by selfishness, and take my place with them, and you. At risk in real relationships, where love not law, defines what I should do.

The thing about our heroes is they can challenge us to become the best versions of ourselves.
They can push us to think beyond our limitations and our boundaries.
They can stretch our sense of “we.”

The thing about superheroes, however, is they will never quite be exactly like us.
Diana has a sense of calling that is for this entire world, but she will never quite be one of us. She is, a demi-god, child of a Zeus. She identifies with humanity, breaks down the barriers of us and them, but we will never be like her.

While we might think the same of Jesus, he turns our concepts of us and them on their head.
Instead of simply being an ideal and a model we look towards, Jesus invites us to become like him.
Jesus doesn’t just push our ideas of us and them, but tears apart any distinction.
When we choose to follow Christ, when we allow his understanding to guide ours, then we actually become a part of a new body, a new sense of “us”.

In Christ, there is no distinction between us and them, Jew or Gentile, slave or free, man or woman.
In the body of Christ, we are one.
Thanks be to God… Amen.

Alternatives to Herbicide

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I always through there were two options when it came to weeds.

1) you could spray chemicals all over them and hope they die… or use more natural chemical reactions like vinegar and hot water to cause them to wither.

2) you could get out there with a hoe, like my deda (grandpa) always did, and take them out by hand.

This year, I’m taking a course on organic ministry at a farm near Norwalk.  We spend roughly half the day in conversation and reflection, have some personal retreat time, and do some work in the gardens themselves.

So far, the thing I have learned that has stuck with me the most is that there are other options when it comes to weeds.

Weeds thrive, you see, because the soil conditions promote their growth.  And the weeds themselves tell you what the soil needs in order to be more healthy OR what type of plans you should be planting there instead.

Stinging nettle can indicate that the soil is acidic… so maybe you want to plant hydrangeas or blueberries there.  Or, you could work to improve the soil conditions by adding dolomitic limestone and making the soil more neutral.

Chicory or mustard weeds are a sign that the ground is hard and too compacted. You can break up the soil by planting sweet clover that will help break up the soil and replenish nitrogen.  Brassica crops (like broccoli and cabbages) also will flourish under these conditions.

The list goes on and on.

I was spending time with a group of clergy colleagues this week and we were talking about difficult people in our churches.  People who take up a lot of time or who talk too much in meetings, or are always complaining about something.  We all have them in our churches, and if we are honest with ourselves, sometimes WE are that person.

Our tendency is to see these people as weeds.  We wish they weren’t there. We’d like to pull them up by their roots or change them.

But what if, instead, we stopped and asked what were the conditions that allowed their behaviors to flourish?

What if someone talks too much in a meeting because we haven’t created space for other voices to be heard?

What if someone is constantly complaining because there is something else going on in their life and it is a sign of a pastoral care need?

What if that person who always takes up too much of our time is a sign of our lack of good, healthy boundaries?

And what if instead of focusing so much of our worry on the weeds, we instead worked to strength and plant things that we want to flourish in that space?

What if we shifted the meeting format to have more small group conversation time?

What if we made a policy to only accept a complaint if there was a constructive response along with it, or a commitment to volunteer to be part of the change?

What if we nurtured a community of care with trained lay folks who helped with congregational care instead of trying to do it all on our own.

All of a sudden, our lives are not consumed with stamping out weeds, but with promoting growth and health and vitality in our gardens and in our churches.

setting priorities, reorganizing my agenda

In three days… THREE… I begin renewal leave.

It is a time for me to take stock of my schedule, fill up my spiritual tank, and focus on what is important to me.

One thing I had initially done well with in my life was budgeting my work time.  My mentor taught me that if there were three blocks of time in a day (morning, afternoon, evening) that I should try to work only two of those a day.

Needless to say, that hasn’t been advice I have followed recently.

Erin-Condren-life-planner-review-with-planner-opened-to-weekly-viewA colleague introduced me to the Erin Condren vertical planner which breaks the day up into exactly these three sections.  So I ordered one to help me get started with a renewed schedule when I go back in July.

And… if you want to order one, too, help me out and click here so I get some credit for referring a friend 😉