touch – Salvaged Faith

You Are Family

Posted on April 29, 2018Leave a comment

As a child, when I feel down and skinned my knee, there was nothing I wanted more than to be held in the arms of a parent. Their soothing words helped me to know that this moment of crisis was only temporary and that I would be okay.

When I was a bit older, I suffered an injury of my own making. I had decided to stand on the landing of the staircase and leap! trying to determine just how far I could jump. I was old enough I should have known better. I was old enough that I shouldn’t have needed a parent to offer comfort. And yet, even when you know its your own fault or when you think you are too big, the comfort of a parent is still welcomed.

As we grow up or as the hurts and wounds of our lives increase, that feeling doesn’t necessarily change. In those vulnerable moments of our lives, we want to be surrounded by people that are our family… whether our biological or our chosen family. When my own dad lost a couple of fingers in a workplace accident, countless relatives made the trip up to Mayo in Rochester, Minnesota to visit him and to sit with my parents during that long recovery.

And Pastor Todd and I have joined so many of you and your loved ones around hospital beds, in pre-surgery suites, and at home, as you have navigated illness and injury as well. I always find myself incredibly honored to be able to join in those moments. They are spaces of vulnerability and intimacy, holy spaces, and it is a joy to be able to name and lift up the presence of God that accompanies you on your journey.

Marcia McFee reminds us that we feel “at home” whenever we are in a place and surrounded by people where it is safe to be vulnerable. Where we can bring our full selves – wounds, scars, faults and all, and we are still loved and accepted. There, in that space, among those people, we are family.

You accidently back the car into the garage, but you know you will still be loved.

You fail a test at school, but there will still be dinner on the table.

A difficult diagnosis comes at the doctor’s office and there is someone beside you holding your hand.

You lose your job, but there are people who have your back and will support you until you are back on your feet.

You can share your struggles and you know they will be heard and that somehow you will be okay.

But, many of us have not experienced family in that way.

The homes some of us grew up in were not safe spaces.

Maybe it was the constant demand for perfection…

Or Alcoholism…

Neglect…

Or maybe even just that Midwestern work-ethic… Iowa nice… that invited you to always put on a smile because we don’t talk about our problems.

Or perhaps there has been a disagreement or a conflict that grew so impassioned that no one feels safe to authentically be themselves or to speak more than surface level small talk – fearing rejection or the dissolution of relationship.

My heart grieves when I hear about young people who are on the streets because they have fled from a home where they are not safe or where they have not be accepted.

I lament the brokenness of so many of our homes… that busyness and conflict have turned so many families into strangers that simply share space with one another.

And I am particularly saddened when I discover ways that this family, this community – the church, has turned their back on one of their children or has not been there in a time of need.

The church is like any human institution. It is full of imperfect people who make mistakes.

And yet, we claim to follow Jesus, and that is supposed to make a difference in the way we love and treat one another.

Perhaps that is why the disappointment is even greater… I expect more of us.

Today, and throughout this week, the bishops of the United Methodist Church are gathering to be in a time of discernment around how we might continue to live together as a family. I invite you to join with me in prayer about how we might truly, authentically, bring our full selves into relationship with one another and how we might offer love and acceptance to even those with whom we mightily disagree.

It is not an easy time for our church or for this particular church.

But when I think about where we lose our way and why we might have forgotten what it means to be a family, I begin to wonder if maybe we have forgotten who we follow.

Maybe we have become so preoccupied with rules…

So busy thinking about physical structures…

Too worried about how something sounds or how long we have been gone…

We have stopped paying attention to the one who called us here in the first place.

In the epistle this morning, this first letter from John, we are urged to consider the kind of love that the Father has given to us. “What marvelous love the Father has extended to us! Just look at it – we’re called children of God! That’s who we really are… and that’s only the beginning. Who knows how we’ll end up! What we know is that when Christ is openly revealed, we’ll see him- and in seeing him become like him. All of us who look forward to his Coming stay ready, with the glistening purity of Jesus’ life as a model for our own…”

We see God’s marvelous love through Jesus Christ. The one who was born into a human family. Who took on our flesh. Who relied upon the care of a mother and a father. Who created a family of disciples. Who reached out to touch people in their brokenness and offer forgiveness and healing. And who ultimately took our sin and our shame to the cross and who died for our sake.

We are called to keep our eyes on Jesus.

And when we do so, we remember that although his heart was pure, his body was far from perfect.

He bore within his very skin and bones the wounds of God’s love for us.

When he appeared among the disciples after his resurrection, those wounds were not something to be hidden and they did not magically go away.

No, Jesus invited them to reach out and touch his hands and his feet.

These disciples were the same ones who had rejected him and turned their backs.

They had not caused his physical wounds, but they had certainly caused harm through their actions.

And yet, Jesus shows up, right there in their midst, offering love, forgiveness, and acceptance.

Not hiding how he has been hurt, but through is hurt, sharing God’s love.

Henri Nouwen, in his reflection on the Wounded Healer reminds us that “nobody escapes being wounded. We are all wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not, ‘How can we hid our wound?’ so we don’t have to be embarrassed, but ‘How can we put our woundedness in service of others?’ When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.”

In the church, there are certainly wounds that abound among us. Physical illness. The damage of an unkind word. And unintentionally brush-off. Mistakes and missteps. The pain of being gone too long. The feeling that we are not good enough to offer our gifts or our talents. But if we truly were to follow the example of Christ in this building, in the United Methodist Church, in our Christian families, then those wounds, that brokenness would find safe space here. We would find that we are able to be present with one another and offer peace and forgiveness. We wouldn’t hide our illness, but would invite others to journey with us and pray for us. We would not be ashamed of physical limitations, but would celebrate the ways we can serve. We would speak truth and peace to those who have hurt us – just as Jesus invited us to in Matthew chapter 18.

In a family, among loved ones, wounds are healed. Hurts are forgiven. Faults are accepted.

And God our Parent, Christ our Brother has called you into this place so that you might know that love that so far surpasses any earthly love you might ever experience.

And as our God loves us, we are called to love and accept and offer healing and forgiveness to one another – one family, united by Christ.

May it be so.

Sitting REALLY close #NaBloPoMo

Posted on November 16, 2015Leave a comment

Yesterday morning in worship, I had the opportunity to sit in the pews at the first church I served. While I had a part to play, I also got to sit back and worship with the people.

A toddler was next to me and at one point, he leaned in really close, and propped up against me. He sat there for some time, flipping through the hymnal upside down, completely unaware of the fact I was a total stranger to him. The lack of boundaries spoke to a sense of safety and comfort in the walls of the building we were celebrating.

This morning, I was on a flight and the entire time, my leg and arm and side touched the person next to me. Seats keep getting smaller and we keep getting bigger, after all. Perhaps it is the assumed loss of personal space on a flight that allows one to sit, so utterly close, and not be uncomfortable.

But I am also aware that there is something profoundly human about touch. It is real connection. You cannot ignore the other exists when you are touching.

At a meeting on Saturday, we expressed the prayers of our hearts as we remembered our baptism. Each had the opportunity to come to the font, touch the water and speak.

Yet, I also recognize now, a loss of an opportunity to touch another’s head or hand in the process.

Some of our prayers were so personal and deep that we needed to touch one another to offer comfort, strength, hope, solidarity. Unprompted, we neglected to do so.

How can we share such physical proximity with strangers and not do so with those with whom we are treading this journey of faith?

I found myself fighting an urge to get up and embrace a friend as she prayed, unsure of why I refrained. Our vulnerability in those moments begged for touch, for human connection. When I finally did so, rushing towards her, pulling her in my arms, even if for a brief moment, I felt like even though things in this world are utterly broken, all shall be well. Not in a pie-in-the sky naïve way, but in the hope and coherence that allows us to take one step forward.

Today, I gather with colleagues to talk about the role of religion in public health. Our bodies, physical touch, acknowledging the dignity of another person have to play a role.

Hold someone’s hand today. Touch their shoulder. Make eye contact. BE the BODY if CHRIST to one another.

Holy Spit Balls

Posted on September 6, 2009Leave a comment

Thursday night we had a wonderful and amazing event at our church. Over 25 people gathered together for fellowship, food, and fun. We had people of all ages – babies crawling around, preschoolers squealing for joy, teenagers running up and down stairs, parents and grandparents and friends.

As I sat there eating with everyone, I got to thinking about something. It felt just like a family reunion. It felt just like all of us gathered there were a big old happy family. Babies got passed from person to person. Teenagers pitched in and helped clean up. Adults took turns wiping the faces of little ones.

Both of my parents come from bigger families, and so these types of gatherings are something that I am very familiar with. Especially all of that face wiping! When I was little, I remember my mom, or my grandmas, or an aunt here or there spitting into a napkin to wipe a face clean. How many of you have had that done to you? How many of you have done it to others?

You know, spit is an intensely personal thing, and we don’t normally think of it as that clean – but I myself have spit on a napkin to wipe the face of my neice and nephew. I don’t know where the impulse to do so comes from – or why we do it, but it works! Spit can clean a face, a kiss can heal an ouchy. Hands can wipe away tears from faces and the pain that goes along with them.

But it’s only amongst family that we do those sorts of things. It’s only among the people we really and truly care about that we are willing to swap these sorts of bodily fluids. It’s only for our brothers and sisters that we are willing to get down and dirty and personal.

In the book, “Touch” Rudy Rasmas recounts to story of an orthopedic surgeon who for years performed surgery on all kinds of patients. As he tells the story he says, “Some of them, to be blunt, stank. When these people came to my office before and after surgery, I’d treat their medical problem, but I got in and out of the examining room as quickly as possible, and except for the medical examination, I avoided touching them. About a year ago, I was reading the Gospels about Jesus touching lepers, lame people, blind people, and all kinds of sick people. My heart was shattered. Those people He touched were the same kinds of people who come into my office every day.” (page 51-52)

This surgeon saw the people around him just as patients. They were clients that were to be dealt with as quickly as possible. In his eyes, it was easier not to see them as people who needed a healing touch, harder still to see them as brothers and sisters that he would go the extra mile for. Until he was reminded of how Christ treated those who were sick.

We have one of those healing stories in our gospel reading for today. A man is brought to Jesus who is deaf and who because of his deafness has problems speaking. In these times, any physical or mental deformity was seen as the direct result of the person or their parents sin – it was a punishment from God for their disobedience. And when people understand disabilities that way – it makes it a whole lot harder for that person to be fully accepted into a community. It becomes harder for others to see them as a human being. It is harder for that person of find love and care.

But Jesus takes one look at this deaf man and leads him off to one side. And Jesus gets up close and personal. I want you to really picture this for a second. He sticks his fingers into the man’s ears. He spits into his mouth! And he cries out, “Be Opened!” And the man can hear! He is healed! All because Jesus was willing to get close enough to him to spit in his face.

That’s the thing about Jesus. He doesn’t treat anyone differently because of who they are. He doesn’t shy away from people who look strange, or who talk funny, or who might smell bad or were born in the wrong family. He takes them by the hand, and he treats them like a brother or a sister. He isn’t afraid to touch them. He isn’t afraid to love them.

Philip Yancy said that, “Jesus moved the emphasis from God’s holiness (which is exclusive) to God’s mercy (which is inclusive). Instead of the message “no undesireables allowed,” he proclaimed, “in God’s kingdom there are no undesirables.” None of us are unworthy. None of us should be shut out.

That is a very hard message to follow. As we have already heard in our passage from James this morning, it is something that early Christians struggled with. They showed favoritism between the rich and the poor in their congregations. And they probably did amongst other people as well. They knew they were supposed to love everyone, but like we talked about last week, they were hearers of the word and not doers. Like the orthopedic surgeon, they would rather love from a distance than get up close and personal with someone. It was better for the poor man to sit at their feet, or to stand in the corner, than to take the place in the pew next to them.

Now, I know that this is a fairly welcoming congregation. I have seen us really treat one another like a family. We are willing to help out, we are willing to pitch in where we are needed. But how do we respond when strangers come into our midst? Or perhaps a better question – how willing are you to go out into the world into the parts of town and neighborhoods and cities where the strangers are?

In that same book, Touch, Rasmus includes an exercise that I want to share with you this morning. I want you to take out the slip of paper that was handed out with the bulletins and really think seriously and prayerfully and honestly about how you would answer this question. I want you to either mentally note, or if you have a pencil or pen handy, go ahead and circle, the descriptions of the people that you wouldn’t feel comfortable touching and sitting next to on a Sunday morning…

…few minutes…

Now, there are a few people on this list that make me uncomfortable. There are definitely people on this list that I wouldn’t go out of my way to touch – much less spit into a napkin to wipe their faces clean. But simply knowing that Jesus would, makes me want to change – makes me want to be better. Makes me want to love them, because Christ first loved me.

Remember that orthopedic surgeon? He heard about how Christ loved other people and he committed himself from that day on to giving big, long hugs to every person – especially the smelly ones – that come to see him.

The church that Rudy Rasmus helped to revitalize in Houston is probably the opposite of the church we hear about in James. It is a church where the homeless and drug addicts sit next to people wearing thousand-dollar suits and who are rising in the corporate world. And he writes that “unconditional love isn’t just good theology or church theory. It’s our practice, and we are very intentional about it. We teach our people to make it a point to reach out to every single person who walks in the door…”

He tells the story of a woman named “Neighbor” who carried everything she owned in a shopping cart. This woman came to church “every time the doors were open,” and she often did some covert panhandling at Sunday services. But after two years of this, she went up to the pastor and said, “Pastor Rudy, my name is Carolyn. Don’t call me ‘Neighbor’ anymore. You can call me Carolyn from not own.” Because the people in that church cared for her, reached out and touched her, her heart melted as she began to trust them. And she let them into her lives. She took off her mask of anonymity. “Carolyn would tell you that God has surrounded her with people who accept her just as she is. They didn’t try to fix her, they didn’t demand that she get cleaned up, and they didn’t expect her to respond quickly. They just kept loving her day after day, week after week, and they let her respond in her own good time.”

That is what church is all about. Loving people. Sharing the grace of God with them. Seeing them through the eyes of Christ. Bringing healing and wholeness to their lives by getting up close and personal. We can’t do that if we see one another as strangers. We can only do it if we recognize that we are all children of God – brothers and sisters in Christ – and if we are willing to get a little dirty rubbing against one another- and if we are willing to spit in a napkin to help make someone clean.

Amen and Amen.