The itch

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Last week, I got into some poison ivy.

First, on the disc golf course as we were looking for a shot that was too long and in the rough. I noticed it after traipsing through.

Then, in my very own backyard.  We had a gigantic bush of the stuff, all viney and spread out everywhere.  I donned my long sleeved shirt and latex gloves and washed everything immediately after pulling the ivy out and tossing it in a garbage bag.

But 2-3 days later, the bumps have arrived. The itchy, red, gross bumps. A streak on my leg.  Both of my wrists, a few fingers and a blotch on the top of one arm.

Last year, I covered myself with this pink itch relief cream, but in reality, it didn’t really help, so I’m toughing it out.

And here is what I have figured out:  If I’m busy with something… if I’m watching television or writing or working out in the garden, I don’t notice the itch.  But as soon as I stop, I can’t stop thinking about scratching!

 

I have had another itch as well.  The itch to get back to work. And that itch has been a little bit stronger.  Any time my mind is clear… as I’m pulling weeds or sitting at the computer waiting for inspiration to hit on the writing or driving in the car, I can’t stop thinking about what I’m going to do when I get back to Immanuel next week.

For me, that itch is much healthier.  It is a sign that I’m doing the work I am called to do.  It is a sign that this has been a good time away where I could clarify and focus on things in a new way.  It is a sign that God has been in the midst of this time and that I need to honor the things I have discovered about myself, my relationships, and my calling when I return.

In fact, I had to make a list on my phone.  Every time inspiration strikes, it goes on the list.

It helps soothe the itch for a while so I can get back to resting and renewing.

postmodern holiness

I have been having a discussion with some colleagues about what it means to be disciples and pastors in the world today.

The question was raised about what it means to be holy and to seek after God’s holiness… especially in the context of the postmodern world we live and move in.

Some of us find the dichotomy of holy/unholy something of a misnomer.  Modernism tended to place these things at opposite ends of a spectrum.   We could easily categorize something as good and bad, holy and unholy, do this and don’t do that.

Yet I think that postmodernism has helped us realize that this is a much more complex question.  Holiness and unholiness are not matters of morals, nor are they black and white categories.

What is it that makes something holy?

Holiness comes about because something is set apart by and for God.

We typically use that to mean that as pastors, we set ourselves apart from the ways of the world and demonstrate a certain way of being. In the modern era, this meant things like don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t lie or cheat, don’t swear. Do wear suits and ties and below the knee skirts (for us women pastors out there).  Holiness becomes a check-list, standards for living, high expectations, a list of places you should not go.

But is that what biblical holiness is all about?

Didn’t Jesus do crazy things like turn water into wine and eat with sinners and touch the unclean?  Didn’t he get down and dirty and messy with his disciples?  Didn’t he preach the good news in every day language and use images that ordinary people would understand?

Which brings me back to the question.  What makes something holy? Does our answer change in this post modern world?  Who decides the answer to that question? What if holiness in a postmodern world is more about how we use and redeem the things of this world, where they are, in order to speak the good news of God?

I have been reading Elaine Heath’s Mystic Way of Evangelism.  She shares the http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=amomono&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=080103325X&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr stories and experiences of these amazing saints of the faith who have shared their faith through deepening their relationship with God.  One of those people is Phoebe Palmer, who realized that

holiness is about a life given irrevocably to God, which then in union with Christ the Sanctifier is empowered to be in God’s redemptive mission in the world… Christ is the altar, and whatever touches the altar is made holy

When things are given over to him.  When they are set apart, surrendered, turned over to our Lord, they become holy.  It is about God working in the midst of these things, not about us or the things themselves.

I did a funeral a little while ago and the family was not wanting to stand and speak, but had a few words they wanted me to share on their behalf.

They especially wanted to include the phrase – “He may have been an asshole, but he was OUR asshole.”

I wrestled with what to do.

If I’m completely honest with God and everyone, cuss words do occasionally come out of my mouth. Usually in the heat of the moment on the disc golf course when a drive goes about 5 feet and then hits a tree.

Things that are said on the disc golf course are different from things said in the middle of the church sanctuary from the pulpit. Maybe this is a false dichotomy. Maybe as a pastor I shouldn’t say those words even on the disc golf course… but I do.

If the me that God loves says those things out in open spaces… and if this family felt like they needed to say those words about their loved one… then I felt like I could take that language to God and make it a part of that time of worship and celebration.

So I said it.

I didn’t leave it there, however. I used that phrase to talk about how we are not perfect people and a funeral is not a time to paint a rosy picture of someone’s life – but to be honest and to celebrate who that person was in all of their fullness… and also to celebrate that God comes to each of us in our imperfection and loves us enough to save us.

Like Jesus, I met them where they were. I also found an opportunity to transform the language they were familiar with and the experience we all had that day – to use their expression in order to speak the gospel.

It has taken me a while to write about that day, in part because I’m never quite sure what others might think.  But this week in conversations about holiness and being a pastor, I had to admit that it was one of the most powerful experiences of community and ministry I have experienced. And that means that it needs to be shared and celebrated and lifted up.

Holiness is not something that I can pretend to have attained.  I am far from perfect, although I seek to be more Christ-like each and every day.

In the same book mentioned above, Bonaventure’s understanding of the imago dei is lifted up.  He believes that

humanity is uniquely charged to image the second person of the Trinity, in that humans should mirror God as Jesus mirrors God, as beloved children of God.

I pray continually that through God’s grace I might love as Jesus loved and who Jesus loved: the hurting, the broken, the alienated, the unclean, the grieving, the joyful, the sinners, the saints.

Maybe in this postmodern world the question to ask about holiness is not: is it in the rules for me to do this or not?  But will this better help me to love and serve this person?  Can this language/experience/person be brought to the altar of Christ? Is there an opportunity for the gospel to be heard right here and now?

The Gift of Patience

For about two years now, I have been playing disc golf. It is a game that is played in many ways like your more typical golf… with a tee pad and the aim of getting your ball or disc into the hole in as few strokes as possible.

As I have grown in my ability to play, I have picked up drivers, midrange discs and putters. They each have their own purpose – they fly in different ways, and you use different discs for different sorts of shots.

But I’m still not very good at the game. I bogey and double bogey more than I like to admit. And unlike golf – there is no handicap on the disc golf course… although for a while, we played with something called “Katie-par…” meaning I got an extra stroke on every hole =)

I think what I enjoy most about the game is that I can be outside, hiking through beautiful courses. The grass is beneath my feet, the trees loom around me, we play around streams and ponds, on top of hills and in valleys.

Most of the time, I’m comfortable with my lack of skill. I do the best I can in any given moment.

But there are those days… and I’m sure that any of you who play games or sports has had them… when nothing seems to go right. Every shot is off. I lose sight of the fact that I’m still learning the game and expect perfection from myself. I get frustrated and that frustration only makes me more prone to miss the next shot, which in turn makes me more frustrated and angry. There was actually a hole this last weekend where I hit four trees in a row, on four consecutive shots before I got to the basket. There is nothing worse than when those beautiful trees become obstacles, and I have to admit, sometimes my temper gets the best of me. I want to be good at the game, and I want to be good, NOW!

Patience is not a virtue that comes easily to us. We come with short fuses. We are personally invested in our work and our play and we want to see the results of our efforts. But when things start to fall apart, instead of taking the long view – we begin to lose hope, we begin to get angry, and often we behave in ways that are far from Christian.

This morning, we revisit a familiar biblical story about two brothers… Jacob and Esau. Esau is the older of the two – a rough and tumble sort of guy who thinks with his gut. Jacob on the other hand, is quietly clever… a mamma’s boy who uses his wit to often trick his older brother and gain the upper hand.

Now, as we might remember the stories… Jacob uses these skills to steal his birthright from the older brother and also a deathbed blessing from his father.

Esau is furious at the outcome of these events. Everything has just been taken from him. This isn’t the kind of frustration that comes from missing a few shots on the golf course – this is the kind of existential angst that comes from having your very identity called into question. As we heard in the scriptures from this morning – Esau seethed in anger against Jacob… he brooded, “The time for mourning my father’s death is close. And then I’ll kill my brother Jacob.”

It was the last straw. Esau just couldn’t take it anymore and he snapped. And Jacob had to flee for his life, far off to the land of his uncle, Laban.

Now, most of the time, when we visit these stories, our attention stays with Jacob. We follow him to Paddan Aram where he works for seven years for the hand of his beloved Rachel… and then for seven more years when he is tricked into marrying Leah instead. We follow his story as he spends time increasing the flocks and in turning tricking his uncle Laban and ends up with the best of the flocks and the herds and a huge family of wealth and power.

We could point to Jacob and talk about his patience. About how in spite of being cheated by his uncle, he stuck to his promises and waited for God’s blessings. We could talk about how his persistence and trust led to his success.

But this summer, we are taking a different look at these stories. And so instead, I want us to look back to the land of Canaan and at the son who was left behind.

This fruit of the spirit, patience, is often translated as longsuffering. It is the gift of being able to endure in spite of the circumstances that have come against you. It is a hopeful fortitude that reminds us that there is light at the end of the tunnel… that if we trust and wait, the outcome we are praying for will come to pass.

Barclay’s commentary says that patience is the grace of a person who could revenge a wrong but doesn’t.

Patience is the grace of a person who could revenge a wrong but doesn’t.

Now, out on the disc golf course… that would mean that patience is not picking up my disk and chucking it at the nearest tree out of frustration for them being in the way. Patience is seeking an opening, waiting for the anger to pass, breathing deeply, and finding a way forward. Patience is remembering that this inconvenience, this obstacle, will not last forever.

If patience is the grace of a person who could revenge a wrong but doesn’t… then I think the person who actually exemplifies the spirit of patience is not Jacob, but his older brother, Esau.

The first way that Esau is patient is that he doesn’t strike out immediately in anger when his brother cheats him. If we followed their story from the time they were just children, I’m sure that there was more than just these two instances of trickery. And yet, up until this point, up until the moment that Jacob steals away his blessing, Esau has managed to not let it get to him. But this last time we hear about… well, this is the last straw. He has just had everything taken away from him and Esau is pissed off… and yet even in the midst of his anger… we might even say righteous anger… he has enough control to wait.

Many people in today’s world who had something like this done to them would immediately grab the nearest weapon and seek out their brother. But Esau waits. He thinks. He knows that there are some things that are more important at the moment… namely, the fact that his father is dying.

Now, if part of being patient is being slow to anger… I want to say that Esau has this only partially right. He became angry, all right. But he did not allow that anger to consume him in an instant. He thought about others. He allowed his anger to be placed on the back burner.

When we find ourselves in situations of great frustration and anger, I think patience is taking just a moment to breathe and to pray. Patience is asking for God to come into this situation and remind us of the things that are truly important in the moment, and to let that anger move out of the way, if necessary.

The second way that Esau helps us to understand what patience is comes from the way he lives his life after Jacob flees.

He acts not out of spite, but in all things tries to follow his father’s wishes. When he hears that Jacob was sent away with the command not to marry a Canaanite woman, then Esau himself, seeks out a woman that would please his father. He seeks out his half-uncle Ishmael… and marries one of his daughters.

And that is all we hear about his life for the next 14 years.

Not once does Esau plot and plan and come looking for his brother. Not once does he try to live out that statement of anger that his brother would die. No, he moves on with his own life. He carves out the best possible future for himself. In spite of the situation that he finds himself in, he endures. That is longsuffering. That is patience.

Making the most of our given situations is a very hard thing to do. We like to sit and stew and wish that things were different. We breed anger and resentment in our hearts. And we spend too much time looking into the past, instead of living into our new futures.

I have spent many mornings talking with the pastor from the Lutheran church . As many of you know, his wife, has a degenerative condition and as time goes on, her body will continue to fail. But as I have talked with Pastor, he also tells me about the patience and peace that his wife has. She knows that God will heal her… sheknows that God has already healed her… but she is patient and she knows that that her time of healing may not come in this lifetime. But, her diagnosis is not an obstacle to living the best possible life that she can today. She has a hopeful fortitude that keeps her going, day by day.

Finally, Esau teaches us about patience through the forgiveness of his heart. Do you remember back to that definition of patience… as the grace of a person who could revenge a wrong, but doesn’t? That is Esau.

Had Esau been the wrong kind of patient… the kind of patient that waits for the right opportunity and moment to strike back… then his opportunity would have come when Jacob returned to the land of his father.

And Jacob knows it. Jacob trembles with fear at the thought of the anger of his brother. He sends messengers ahead to let Esau know they are coming… it’s almost as if he is saying – I’m here… let’s get this over with.

Jacob divides up his great wealth and sends it over the river in waves as a gift to soothe his brother’s anger. He sends his wives and children over – in essence saying – all that I have is yours if you want it.

Had Esau been the wrong kind of patient… the revengeful kind of patient… he would have destroyed those gifts. Those four hundred men standing with him on the other side of the river would have taken the flocks, killed his wives and children and come rushing over the river to kill the trickster brother.

But Esau was a man of great patience. He put his anger on the backburner of his soul, and allowed God to let forgiveness replace the hatred. When Esau was given the chance to revenge the wrong that was made upon his life, he instead ran to his brother, fell into his arms and wept.

And to all of those gifts – the flocks and the wealth that Jacob sent over… Esau didn’t take them out of righteous indignation. He didn’t say – it’s about time that I got my birthright and my power and wealth back… no – he looked his brother square in the eye and he said, “I have enough, brother… keep what you have for yourself.”

The past was forgiven. All that mattered now was their futures. The future of two brothers who were reunited at long last.

It is difficult to forgive. And it will take time to forgive. But when we fail to do so, we carry around with us a burden that is often too heavy to bear.

Let us instead seek God’s patience. The kind of patience that our Master has for us… the kind of patience that allows us to come back to him time and time and time again – after a million wrongs have been committed and greets us with open arms and tears of joy. Our reading from the second letter of Peter this morning reminds us that God’s patience is our salvation… God’s gracious spirit that chooses not to revenge the wrongs we have committed. God’s gracious spirit that waits until we finally turn back towards her. Amen and Amen.

trying too hard

wYesterday, I shot my best two rounds of disc golf ever. On both courses, I had back nines of 6 and my combined scores for the two courses was only 29!

Now, those aren’t great scores. But for me, they are fantastic scores. I did twice as good as I normally do. And do you want to know why? I stopped trying so hard.

The same thing happened last week with my sermon. I have been a manuscript preacher – although, if I’m honest with myself, my manuscript isn’t the polished manuscript of some, but I write it exactly how I would say it, stream of consciousness style. Only without the stress of a congregation in front of me when I do it. It’s a style that has helped my preaching be a bit more authentic and yet it also gives me the security blanket of those pieces of paper in the pulpit.

In two of my last three sermons however, I haven’t really used a manuscript that I prepared before hand. And you know what – they were pretty good!

I think that I have always been raised to believe that we have to put 110% into everything that we do. And while that is a good philosophy, it’s not sustainable in the long term. Because giving 110% means that you are giving more of yourself than you have. In otherwords, it’s terrible for self-care. If you are always giving and not taking the time to fill yourself back up 110% then you will burn out.

The other problem with that way of thinking is that it makes it all about you. It becomes about what you have put into it, rather than thinking about all of the other factors that come into play.

For example, in disc golf, if you throw the disc at 110%, your arms will tire out quite quickly, but you also are not using the discs properly. You aren’t factoring in for the wind, or the nature of the particular disc that you are throwing. In my case, backing off from the throwing power also has helped me to work on my form and I have far more accurate drives and putts than I did before.

In the case of my preaching, when I get out of the way a little bit, and leave just a little bit more up to God in the moment, I am ALWAYS amazed at how God takes what I have already done and makes it amazing. If it’s all about me and the way that I wrote it, then there is very little room for God in the moment – even though God was a part of the process.

I have always been a hard worker… and I firmly believe that we need ot love God with our whole selves – heart, mind, soul, strength. But sometimes that also means we need to understand that God is God and we are not and empty ourselves so that God can work through us, like empty vessels ready for the wine.