Devil in Disguise

I decided not to go in this direction for my sermon, but it was a good page or so of information. If it sparks anything or fires the ole imagination, cheers!

We probably have diverse viewpoints about this figure in our faith tradition. Many of us probably don’t believe that evil has some personification, that perhaps Satan is some psychological projection of the evil inside us. Some of us no doubt believe in a real and tangible Devil who is actively trying to upend God’s designs for the universe. Perhaps you don’t believe in the Devil or even evil as a reality at all, but instead simply consequences for not aligning our will with God’s will.
I’m not sure there are any requirements for orthodoxy on the Devil. We don’t focus our beliefs in that direction. In some ways it really doesn’t matter. We pray to be led not into temptation, but delivered from Evil, but we don’t define what that Evil is like. Satan is a number of things in the Bible—and much of our scriptures were written in a time when the Jewish imagination had not yet conceived of “The Devil.”
But the Devil makes an appearance there in our scripture today. We hear about him and what the early Christian mind thought was his authority. In several places in the New Testament, the Devil, some spirit trapped between heaven and Earth, has jurisdiction over much of the world as we know it. Satan tempts Jesus with the power to rule over the entire earth in a political fashion, much like the people of Israel were expecting the Messiah to do. The Devil takes Jesus up on a high mountain and says to him, “I will give you all their authority and power, for it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I wish. So if you worship me, it will all be yours." Elsewhere, in 1 John 5:19, we hear “We know that we are children of God, and that the whole world is under the control of Satan.”
This must have been pretty apparent to the early Christian church people, who were hunted down by the authorities and tossed to the lions. It wasn’t hard for them to imagine who was behind it all, pulling the strings—it must’ve been the Adversary. The rulers of the nations seemed to be in collusion with the Evil forces of the Universe. They were to be feared and opposed as diligently as the Devil himself. Paul writes to the Ephesians, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world…”
I mention these things today because I believe it is important for us to examine our evolving relationship with Evil. The early church drew the battle lines—it was the Kingdom of Heaven against the Kingdoms of Earth. Have we evolved as a society? Have the Evil forces behind the governments of the world simply evaporated, moved into easier to identify realms? If one judged by the focus of the televangelists and Christian radio wonks, it would seem that Christians believed nowadays that Satan had changed address to Hollywood or the Halls of Science and Jesus himself had taken up residence in Washington!

I'm a geography geek, okay?

This is a version of the world map proportional to wealth. Cha-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-eck it and more by clicking on the map.

Who will save your soul?

In a previous ministry setting, I heard that a minister who had served in my position had organized a mission trip to Mexico. On this particular mission trip, a house was constructed and participants took part in a Vacation Bible School. Also included in this mission trip was a nightly contest where the participants from the church where I now served would gather together and tally how many “souls they had saved” that day. A prize was given each night to the person who reported the highest number of “souls saved” by inviting the Mexicans to “accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.” I must confess that hearing this story made me want to run to the bathroom and throw up.
This kind of contest provoked such a visceral reaction from me because I believe that it confuses God’s action with our own, and in so doing it amounts to idolatry. We are used to thinking of idolatry as bowing down to worship little figurines of Greek and Roman gods, as Paul encountered and wrote about in his ministry. However, we are in a much more subtle and deeper danger of idolatry. We are subject to a new cultural false deity—the Self. Any time we are engaged in mission, our work is to be a conduit for God’s action. It is impossible for humans to save their own soul, much less anyone else’s soul. That is instead God’s gift of grace. When we share the life changing power of the Gospel through work or word or song or prayer, the Spirit moves through us and creates the opportunity to open eyes to God’s grace. Far from being a “tally” that we can name and claim, our action on behalf of God should only be attributed to God, never to ourselves. If we confuse this issue, we risk idolatry.
This is one reason I am glad our church’s mission committee has planned a mission trip to Camp Egan this month. On March 22-24, we are going to be engaged in refurbishment and construction around the camp where so many district and conference activities take place. Participants in that mission trip mentioned above would, I suppose, need to find some other evening entertainments since there aren’t going to be any other people there at the camp to “witness to” besides ourselves—there wouldn’t be any souls to “save” and then tally in order to win a prize. But, this is probably a good thing. It allows us to learn a little bit about how we are used by God in mission.
The following weekend, Camp Egan will host the District Confirmation Retreat, when young people from all over the Muskogee District will gather to learn about God, the church, discipleship, grace, and their decision to follow Christ. The work that we will do the previous weekend will contribute to and enhance the ability for those kids to gather and learn. Who knows, a 13 year old kid may make the decision at that retreat to give their life to Christ and follow him, and our work will have contributed in some way to that kid’s experience—in short, Christ will turn our water into wine. This is no different than having an in depth conversation with someone who doesn’t know Christ and at the end of that conversation “convincing” that person that a life of faith is essential and life giving. In both examples of mission, God allows us to be conduits of His Grace.
I understand why the people on the mission trip to Mexico had such pride and sense of ownership involved in their experience of “saving souls.” It is an exciting and energizing experience to be used by God. If we refuse the temptation to put ourselves on a pedestal while involved in mission, we may see that God is saving our own soul through our work in mission as well as others.

Plastic Ocean

You can tell LA Times put a lot of work into this series on garbage in the Pacific. It is from last summer, but I was just recently reminded of the reality of the Eastern Garbage patch (floating plastic debris covering area twice the size of Texas). Give this some time:

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/oceans/la-oceans-series,0,7842752.special

Lenten Funnies

Because we need a little chuckle to start off Lent....(identities obscured to protect from utter damnation)

Playing chase

Muskogee District Lenten Pilgrimage

Muskogee District Lenten Pilgrimage

Pushing the Pulpit

The following post is from a blogger in CA who went to the same seminary as I did. I came across her post, and thought since I spent so much time responding to it, I should put it on my blog too.
From Endangered Species: Church
This morning I came across something in the United Methodist Newscope that caught my attention. The New York Times published an article on January 27, 2007, about how seminaries are having a tough time getting young graduates to go onto local church ministry. Apparently, students are not necessarily going to seminary to become ordained pastors. This has put the onus on seminaries to do more vocational counseling and might I say--nudging.
''We need to lead the horses to water, as it were,'' Dr. James Hudnut-Beumler, the dean of the divinity school at Vanderbilt University, said of what has become a common effort across faiths and denominations for seminaries to lean on their students -- ever so slightly -- to consider a pulpit job." (from the New York Times Article)
If students are not going to seminary to be a part of the pulpit-pastor mill, what on earth are they spending all that money doing?
This was something I had the pleasure of talking about with CST president Jerry Campbell. As we talked it became clear that many in my generation and younger are going to seminary to get the kind of faith training and exploration that used to happen in the local church. In fact, because the Church does not seem trustworthy, young people go to a place of trust (learning institutions are that for us) and spend thousands of dollars receiving high quality Christian Education.
While I do not believe that the sole purpose of seminary education is to pop out trained church leaders (that's a lofty goal!), I do think that as we examine a changing and emerging church, we need to challenge the seminary to do the same kind of examination.


Here's what I added to the discussion....




Good topic! A friend and I spent a few hours the other day wondering what it would be like if the church expanded the orders of ministry to include a "teaching" order. This could possibly be a way to keep a connection with all the young adults getting MDIVs and then pursuing more education in order to teach. The church could validate their calling and ask them to contribute in some way to the life of the church through a special "Rabbinical" order (that terminology may be confusing, so something else might be more appropriate) You get the idea. A possible "dollars and cents" impact of this idea could be more participation in the pension plan, insurance programs (that might end up killing us as the baby boomer pastors begin retiring) and who knows what else.
I was a student at CST and was encouraged to pursue my calling into a PH.D by one of the professors there, even though it was my intention to go into parish ministry (or perhaps campus ministry) This professor did have a keen awareness of my passion for teaching, but I decided that the parish probably needed ministers who felt called to teach as well. (Plus another 4-6 years of school didn't fit into my "family plan" at the time, nor will it ever, perhaps....though I'd really love to go). As it is now, I put "gasoline" in my tanks by offering frequent Bible studies, taking sermon prep and construction very seriously--and the fact that I'm appointed to a smallish parish gives me plenty of time for study. (Though I tend to end up playing with my son---hell, will I regret that on my deathbed? Yeah right!)
Basically, in a nutshell--Seminaries should be selling the idea to MDivs who are considering jumping ship into other degrees or careers that with the flooded field of college educators, they have a greater chance of teaching in the parish than in the academy anyway! And sooner! The idea that the parishioners dont' want serious and critical study opportunities is bunk. I find teaching in the church to be ultimately rewarding, even though I too felt the pull of the Ph.D instead of a pulpit.

The coolest would be 62 year old ever

Happy Birthday!


As we do every year, today is the celebration for our brother Bob. He was a beautiful spark of humanity--One who was enraptured with the Spirit. He was authentic. (Just watch the attached video for the soul he lent to his performances.) he was unique--none like him at the time or since. He did what he could to make the world a better place. He left great music for the world to love for centuries. I am convinced that in 200 years, the world will love him as much as the world loves Beethoven now.

Under a Spell

I've been recording Six Feet Under on my DVR lately. After a few years of friends suggesting that "you'd really love this show," I finally have the impetus to watch--and boy am I glad. Tonight I just finished watching what I think is the first episode of season 3, where Nate has multiple visions of possible lives while under aneaesthesia. I thought his (what I assume is the first) vision, being married to what's her name--Lisa? Enamored with fatherhood, was beautiful and reminicent of life on this homefront. There were also plenty of quirky little Los Angeles things that I thought were fun, like Lisa's annoyingly self-absorbed boss "in the business." I would just say, I think every person in the ministry should watch this metaphysical comedy drama mystical treatise on life and death and the hereafter. Good schtufff.
On the subject, I rode with the local funeral home director on a 20 minute drive out to the country cemetary where we buried Jerry today. As we pulled in to the cemetary, after a long conversation about the culture of grief in Oklahoma (which perhaps I'll blog on another day) I finally worked up the nerve to ask him if he was a six feet under fan. He laughed and said he loved it, and that he got that question from families all the time. His kids bought him the collectors edition for Christmas, and he would stay up late at night and plop in a DVD after his wife went to bed. we laughed b/c we both have the same watching pattern (his wife doesn't appreciate some of the more "left coast" morality of the program, mine just doesn't have the time to get hooked into another t.v. program--although she's watched a couple, and I can tell she's weakening in that conviction. He offered to let me borrow his box set, because he's on season 5, and I think I've missed several episodes of 1 and 2. How cool is that--borrowing 6 feet under from the local funeral home director? Ha! That's small town for you!

Death on the Doorstep

Helping people experience death is one thing I didn't feel prepared for going in to the ministry (largely because apart from a friend's suicide when I was 17, I had not experienced much death). However, after two years of ministry, I don't know that any amount of "experience" with the dying and survivors prepares a minister to be what he or she needs to be in the face of death. Only the action of the Holy Spirit makes us "qualified" to help anchor people in times of crisis. I have learned more about grieving and the typical processes of encountering death through seminary and other programs since, but these last two weeks have been unusual.
First, I received a call from a church member a week ago last Friday that alerted me to the death of a young woman that I knew from around town who had found her husband, age 39, on the floor of their living room that morning. She didn't have a church family, although on occasion had expressed interest in attending our church, and her family and his family were both from out of state. The caller was concerned that there may not be anyone there for them. So, I got on some clothes and headed over there around 7am. I knocked on the door, and the policeman opened and let me in. I noticed the deceased man laying on the floor, and went into the kitchen where the woman was being comforted by another woman. They looked at me, puzzled and relieved to see me. They explained that they hadn't even called anyone, so were unsure how I knew, but were happy I was there. I was puzzled too, and we put it together that perhaps the person who called me had heard on the police scanner. I stuck around while the police waited for the coroner, then the funeral home. The woman was concerned for her son, who had not woken up yet. He is only 11 years old. They also have a young daughter and a daughter Wesley's age.
I remember the shoebox on the kitchen counter full of rolled coins. They had had a family discussion the night before about savings.
I wasn't sure what I could do or how I could be of help, but I remembered my dad saying that "sometimes your presence there is simply reassuring to people." So I stood in the kitchen and talked with the woman and the folks who streamed in as the news began spreading around town. Eventually the son woke up--the widow took him by the shoulders and steered him into the game room. I followed, partially pulled along by the older woman who had been there when I first arrived. I remember her saying, "brother" and thinking--well, who the hell is this boy going to think I am. I had met him once before, but doubted he remembered me. So I sat with him and his mother as he learned that his father had died, I just put my hand on his shoulder. The funeral home arrived, so the woman left and I stayed in the game room with the boy. I prayed that God would help me be the presence for this boy that I would hope someone would be for Wesley if he were in this boy's shoes right now. I thought that he might feel awkward with me sitting there, so I just told him, "You don't feel the need to say anything to me if you don't want to, I'm just going to sit here and stay with you, OK?" He nodded his head and then slipped into a long, deep stare at the Dish Network screen saver that kept jumping around the screen of the television.
Eventually, folks came into the room with us, and the boy decided he wanted to get some clothes on. I went and stood with the policeman and coroner as they wrapped up their conversation. The funeral home had come and gone. I decided to go ahead and leave at the same moment the police and coroner left. I remember feeling like one of the "officials" leaving the women behind to cry on each other's shoulders.

Then, yesterday, as I was walking back to my Sunday school class of youth, a church member came running in the door from outside and saying, "pastor, we need you." A member who lived across the street from the church was lying on the ground in front of his front porch. There was a circle of people around him, and one of my members was trying CPR on him. The man's brother is our next door neighbor, he owns the four pecan trees and the empty lot to our south. I jogged up to a group which was mourning, urgent, shocked, worried, and praying. I remember thinking when I first saw him laying there with his head and feet on the ice covered ground that he looked peaceful. I put my arm around the man's wife and just stood there with her. Lara was already over there, and she held her hand. We stood and hoped, quiet. When the ambulance finally got there, they got him on a gurney and took him inside. Then the ambulance just sat there. We got folks into various cars and trucks and ready to go to the hospital, and still the ambulance sat. One person theorized that they were trying to get him stabilized for the trip over to Okmulgee. Lara, impatient, went and asked the police officer what the holdup was. She came back over to me and said, "Go and speak to that policeman." i did, and he walked over to the side of the ambulance opposite the family's house. "Pastor, it doesn't look good, so I don't know if that changes your approach to things, here, but I can just tell you when they've tried CPR for this long with nothing happening, it's usually not a good sign." He told me what I knew, but the ambulance wheeled around to head toward the hospital anyway, and I got in the car and followed the family out to the hospital. I remembered seeing folks headed into town that were coming to church, and I thought, what should I do? I stayed at the hospital for a few minutes, waiting to hear the inevitable, then decided to go on back to the church for the worship service.
I expected it to be a small gathering, but I walked into a packed church. I suppose a week cooped in the house because of an ice storm will make good church goers out of a community! I told the people the news, and then prayed the 23rd Psalm. Then we went on with the service as normal. It was weird. Lara came back from the hospital right before the children's sermon, so I went down into the pews and sat with her as she told me that he had died. I waited until the children's sermon was over and the kids had cleared out for children's church, and then I told the congregation the news that he had passed away. I prayed a prayer from the funeral liturgy asking for God's presence as we shrink before the mystery of death and God's power in our lives to embolden us to live as those who are prepared to die and to die as those who go forth to live. Then I asked our pianist to play "Stand By Me," instead of the hymn that we had selected for that morning.
Afterwards, when it came time to share the joys and concerns, it occurred to me that we gather as a community to worship God and share with one another our grief and our joy, and that in the sharing of those things in the community of Christ, Christ comes into our lives and experiences those things with us. The Spirit moved in that church building that day, and I believe all who were there felt a new sense of the importance of community. As for me, it was troubling and at the same time emboldening to lead a group of people through an experience like that. I didn't feel qualified to do it, but asked for the guidance of the Spirit, and know that the prayer was answered.

Got MLK?

intrigued--children of men

Lara and I went to see the children of men the other night--It was really the only movie that we were interested in, and it was our 9 year anniversary as a couple (not wedding anniversary) So we gave it a look. It was definately one of those movies that leaves you thinking about all the angles and symbols and meanings. I loved it. the action sequences were also very involving--what a vision of the future! Now I've checked out the book from the library--I've also gone to the www to try and find some conversation about the movie. I ran into this blog, and I want to save it for me for later (which, by the way, is the original "purpose" for weblogs) so here is a link to an interesting site, if interested--some kind of community blog about symbolism and Christianity. http://blog.symbollife.com/

Learning the Basics

Dis /enchanted

I heard the song from this short animation on my way home from OKC and it raised chills on my arm. I couldn't remember what it was from, but it haunted me. I finally heard the radio announcer (Weekend Radio, by the way, on NPR> Lots of fun) say it was from the Snowman. I don't know if this will take you down the same memory lane that it did for me, but you are welcome to discover something new at least.
Speaking of Christmas cartoons. I recently recorded Rudolph for us to watch as a family and almost wanted to censor Wesley from seeing it. What a backwards cartoon. I hate the message that it gives. It tries to be "if you are different, that's okay--you're still valuable. But the way I heard it was--Donner was one of those overbearing, ashamed parents who doesn't deserve a kid who has a good bone in his body. santa is a major asshole. There is nothing redeeming about the elves at all--crazy workaholic mindless drones. I just didn't like it at all. I remembered thinking it was really neat, but it seemed stuck--its not a timeless story.

Rudolph ends us saving the day and proving he is useful to a bunch of assholes who don't really change their perspective, they just see that they can USE him after all. In the end, Rudoph still remains deluded that his value is contingent upon his accpetence by his reindeer socity and some skinny fake santa (notice the absence of capital letter--jerk) I was waiting on Rudolph to say, "On my journey, I learned that you guys can just have each other and your stupid toys--I'm going to find something else to do." I also kept wondering where santa was going to take all those reject toys--"I've found a place for you after all," he said. What, is santa going to drop them off in Africa or something? Well, perhaps you don't think this much about Christmas cartoons, and you're probably better off for that--but you might pay attention to the kind of twisted morality tales we pump into our children. Of course, I watched it when I was a kid and I turned out all right......right? I suppose I am dwelling on a cartoon, so maybe I'm not alright after all. Hmmm?

In any case, I don't think there's anything bad one can say about the beutiful short called "the Snowman." It is just haunting and memorable. I got chills when I heard it, and then chills when it all came back to me as I watched it on youtube.

Better than nothing--a response to a question about icons

Hi Joy,
thanks for the question, you know me--I love icons, and questions! The legend goes that Iconography was created by St. Luke, who was reputed to have created the first icon of Mary the mother of Jesus. It developed particularly in the Eastern Orthodox tradition, with Greek, Syrian, and eventually Russian "schools" and styles. The woman who taught me (Bonnie Gillis) learned from a Syrian monk, and I have also spent time with an Orthodox hermit monk iconographer who learned in the Greek style. (Here is his website: http://www.aidanharticons.com/) Let's see, a little bit of history--well, of course you have probably heard of the iconoclasts, or "destroyers of icons" we use the word today to refer to someone who makes something completely new and disregards the old. The controversy erupted in the Eastern church in the first 1000 years among people who read the Hebrew scriptures and found them in contradiction to the practice of painting sacred images. I suppose they have a point from a literalist point of view, but in general the church has never been literalist. (thank God) The iconoclasts would go around smashing icons and painting over the beautiful iconography found in churches. In the reformation, particularly the Calvinist reformation, churches were constructed without any iconography or other holy artwork, and that influence is felt in Protestantism today. In fact, I'm willing to gamble that your churches are adorned very simply with clapboard exteriors and plain glass windows--is that true? Influenced by the iconoclasts and radical reformation! (Also quite a bit cheaper than the alternative)
I love iconography because it drives home the importance of incarnational theology. The notion that some minerals, egg yolk, wood, molded by the hands of created individuals can become conduits of God's presence--windows to the divine as they say, is an important step toward acknowledgeing God's presence and activity in the created world. And I'm all for that!
This is by no means a comprehensive "guide to iconography." I have attached a document that I wrote exploring the intersections between the theology of icons and process theology if you want to delve a little deeper. I've also linked to a picture of the icon I've painted . Hope things go well with your study and I'm glad to hear your flock is interested. Oh, yeah, one really neat thing I've heard about icons is that they are two dimensional because the third dimension is in front of the icon, so in a sense, it is not complete until it is viewd and venerated. Our encounter with the icon provided the third dimension because we stand in it. Okay, and I couldn't resist. I've also attached a photo of another icon. A living icon you could say. St. Wesley the Cutest.
Peace,
Nathan

PS Here's the document I attached:
When I studied abroad in the Fall of 1999 in Oxford, England, I stumbled upon an acquaintance that would turn into a friendship that would eventually deepen my understanding of the Christian tradition. Here I met Brother Aidan Hart, an Eastern Orthodox hermit monk. Aidan was giving a lecture at a college in Oxford on iconography. In his lecture, Aidan spoke of the process of painting an icon as being an experience of interconnectedness. He explained that the use of egg tempura, ground minerals and dirt, and gold leafing to create a picture that was experienced as a portal to a direct expense with God was inherently affirmative of the created world’s sanctity. I had been dissatisfied by what I perceived to be an inordinate amount of emphasis placed on the “world beyond,” and a devaluing of the “world below” in Christianity. I longed for a theology that placed more emphasis on the life lived—one that was affirming of our experience here on earth. I was fascinated by Zen Buddhism’s acceptance and value placed on the “mundane,” such as finding enlightenment in sitting and breathing, or having a bowl of tea. I was not satisfied by “pie-in-the-sky Christianity,” and thought that the only alternative was to be found outside the tradition of Christianity. After my studies at Oxford, I was hoping to make a visit to Plum Village, a meditation center in France, where Thich Nhat Hanh lives and teaches meditation. By a twist of fate, I wound up visiting Brother Aidan instead in the hills of west England, on the border of Wales. Less than twenty miles from the home of my ancestors, I found a home again in the faith of my ancestors.
Brother Aidan invited me to the hermitage that he had been sent to build by the leaders of his order on Mt. Athos in Greece. In between the time it took him to build the hermitage from the ground up, plant saplings to reforest the hills that had been deforested since the time of the Romans, and tend to the sheep that he kept on the property, he found the time to paint icons. He had been an icon painter in Greece, and had built a chapel on the grounds of the monastery that was covered with icons. He was able to share his gift of painting with the church, and use the donations to build the facilities of what would one day become a full monastery. His icons are in churches from the Russian East to New Zealand. In the chapel there at the Hermitage of Sts. Anthony and Cuthbert, the saints adorn the walls in the form of icons. In this way, he was never alone at the hermitage, but always worshipped in the fellowship of the communion of saints. I never knew then that I would one day possess the knowledge of how to paint icons myself.
In the Spring of 2003, I contacted Bonnie Gillis because I had heard that she painted icons. I asked her if she would be able to spare the time to teach me to paint an icon. Fortunately, she said she did and that she had another person in mind who would like to take a tutorial together. Soon we began the learning process in the tradition that stretched back 1900 years (or more) to the beginning of our religious tradition.
The process of painting an icon became for me a devotion—a spiritual discipline. Every week last spring, I would sit in Bonnie’s kitchen or backyard and learn how to paint the details of the face of Christ. The process started simply, with three colors. As I became more comfortable with the brush in my hand, we continued to paint finer and finer detail, until finally I had painted a tiny glint in the eyes of Jesus. One aspect of the devotion of painting an icon is the mediation on the imagio dei. In order to construct a representation of this image, the painter must first spiritually prepare him or herself. We begin with simple shapes, painting the outline of the image—like our experience with God, our experience becomes more detailed as we grow in our understanding. Eastern Orthodox spirituality is progressive—we slowly uncover the realization that the imagio dei is in us.
As I have come to understand more about Process theology, I have developed an interpretation of the icon that I think might be agreeable to those of us who uphold this theological framework. Instrumental to the notion of Process theology is the idea that God acts persuasively, not coercively. I believe the icon symbolizes this kind of relationship with God through the use of the two dimensional nature of iconography. I was told by Brother Aidan that that the third dimension of the icon is not realized until the viewer engages the icon. Icons are painted in two dimensions because the painters desire the third dimension to be in front of the face of the icon, not behind it. Instead of expressing depth, the icon expresses reverse depth—the icon invites you to participate in it. One could say that the identity of the icon depends on the identity of the person experiencing it. Certainly this is true to some extent in most art, but the icon is painted purposefully to engage the viewer instead of to express the ideas or passions of the artist. This rule is so widespread that most iconographers don’t even engage in original work until they have had years and years of training. In Process theology, God is beckoning instead of pushing. The icon sits silently in a distinct location in a home—it is a devotional object, not a showpiece. Its purpose is to beckon one to meditate on the divine, not to broadcast a certain doctrine.
Conversely, the expressionless faces of the icons do not lend themselves to another element of Process divinity: the experiencing God. Icons demonstrate the Greek ideal of dualism. The pain and suffering of the saints may be alluded to by symbols outside the person of the saint, but the face is always serene. In the Christ icons, this serenity communicates the theological blunder (according to Process theology) of impassability. The notion that God does not experience the world is one that has been upheld in traditional orthodox theology. Even though the principle of our faith is that Christ (God incarnate) came to suffer and die for our sins, our theological tradition has rejected the notion that God truly experienced or experiences pain and suffering. This ideal comes from the stoic notion that perfection entails a lofty existence above emotion. Emotion was seen as something of the earth—it was too raw and passionate to be of the divine realm. Emotion was something to be transcended. The saints of the church came to be remembered in icons as those who had transcended emotion—and their faces alluded to this sanctification.
Process theology rejects the notion of impassability—in fact it flips it on its head. Instead of God being the one being in all the universe that isn’t affected by the universe, God is the one being in all the universe that is effected by the entire universe. This notion resonates with me, and I think that it leads us to a healthier and more spiritually fulfilling existence in this world. It is, however, quite foreign to the tradition of the icons. When I was painting my icon, I accidentally dropped a brush with red paint on the face of Jesus. Bonnie was quick to remove the paint and help me fix the painting so that one would never know the blemish had occurred. I mentioned to her that though I was happy to have the painting back in great condition, I wouldn’t have minded leaving the blemish on Jesus’ face to remind me that his face was bloodied as a result of his radical ministry. Bonnie didn’t seem to think that that would be an appropriate element of an icon. She told me that icon was to represent the divinity that pervaded the Christ. It was not clear to me then why this answer didn’t resonate with me, but now that I have been steeped more thoroughly in Process theology, I can articulate why I disagreed with this notion of a Christ without blemish. Why does blood and dirt take away from a person’s divinity? The word incarnate means “in the flesh.” The Latin “carne” is a word that has more to do with the market than with Plato’s divine forms. The message of the New Testament is that God became flesh—God became meat, like us. The flesh and dirt are celebrated and sanctified in the incarnation—why should icons picture the holy and distance the holy from the things which make us human? I believe the actual process of making an icon better illustrates this notion of the sanctification of the natural world—which includes our flesh.
Icons receive their color from a mixture of minerals and egg tempura. What better natural elements to give shape and color to a representation of the imagio dei? The minerals—things of hard, static matter. Minerals are ancient rumblings of the earth itself—some are formed by impacts with the heavens. Egg yolks are viscous, organic, and life giving. They are indicative of the miracle of life on earth. If anything celebrates the messiness and motherhood of the physical world, it is an egg. Though the picture we traditionally envision of the divine is serenely indifferent of the physical world, the divine physical substance is unwittingly attested to in the very creation of that image. Somehow, the incarnate God sneaks into every corner we see as rotten.
I believe the lens of Process theology gives us a more dynamic interpretation of the icon than that theological lens which birthed the icon. God experiencing the world is a powerful message for an age that has seen so much destruction and pain. Icons seek to offer an alternative: a divine realm which is unmarred by our life experience. It is a fairy tale—one that gives humanity a skewed sense of what is divine. The icon’s construction reveals the true nature of the divine. As water gives the earth life—it is also the final ingredient for the icon. Colors are given different shades with the addition or subtraction of water. In the Christian tradition, we celebrate new birth with water—we know deep down that God is as necessary and natural to us as water and breath. Icons are not only a reflection of our own misled ideals of stoicism and impassability, they are composed of our primal understanding as God being present and experiencing in the substantive.

Now this is fun!
IS this fun?
Obviously he has an IQ of about 175

Great Christ the King Sunday article

Royal treatment - Living by the Word - Column, Mary Anderson
ANOTHER CHURCH YEAR ends on November 23 with the festival of Christ the King. Although a few folks get jazzed over this festival, most of us need to be reminded that the church year is different from the calendar year, the academic year and the budget year.
On most minor and major church festivals, I remind my congregation how ancient these festivals are. I like to wow them with the vast number of centuries the church has been observing some of them. The festival of Christ the King spoils that plan. It was first introduced in 1925, and not until 1969 was it designated the festival for the last Sunday of the church year. Since I cannot wow them with a millennium's worth of tradition, I emphasize how the church continues to create traditions and make liturgical history.
It is odd to think that the 20th-century church developed a festival centering on Christ's image as king. In America we are as distanced from the image of "king" as we are from the image of "shepherd." Popular theology is more intrigued with the image of Jesus as CEO--a leadership role, to be sure, but hardly comparable to that of a king with a kingdom.
Our American brush with royalty comes mostly from Britain. We might not be able to name any kings, but we are familiar with Queen Elizabeth and with the tabloids and tragedies surrounding her family. We would easily recognize the queen, yet many of us are unaware of what she really does from day to day and what her powers really are. Royalty is respected, it's part of the tradition, hut does it really do anything? Do we need it?
I wonder and worry that people perceive Christ's rule to be similar to the queen of England's rule. Do we view Christ as one surrounded with the art and beauty of a tradition that is more antique than active? Do we see this figure of salvation as hopelessly outdated and practically mute in these postmodern times?
If we stretch ourselves to think in royal terms, we remember that although "king" may be an unfamiliar symbol, it is a political term. Kings rule a particular piece of geography. They may rule over a particular ethnic group. They have subjects--they have "a people." What we declare on this last Sunday of the church year is: Christ has made of us a people.
Growing up in the South, I often heard the home folks ask of a sows girlfriend, "Who are her people?" They were fishing for two things: a family name and a location. "She's one of the Wingards from over Lexington way." Tiffs information could make one be embraced or shunned. I never heard "people" used outside of Family until I moved out of the overwhelmingly Christian South and lived in Chicago. Here "my people" was used for distinct ethnic groups and religious groups. And it was an unspoken truth that if any significant rubber ever hit any significant road, it was your people that mattered. A "people" was not a biological unit. They didn't necessarily share DNA but perhaps things more bonding: a common story, the foods and meals they are together, the experiences they endured and the hopes that endure through generations. I envied their sense of solidarity and identity. It's good to have a people.
Those who have been baptized into Christ Jesus are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand. Christ has made of us a people with his kingship. And that kingship is unique, unlike any earthly kingship that is bound by geographic borders. This kingdom is boundless. Christ's rule is not limited to a particular racial or national group. All are welcome, especially the chronically unwelcome ones. Christ reigns from the cross, we say. Christ rules, as many earthly rulers do, because he has waged battle and has been victorious. But Christ's enemies are sin, death and the devil, all defeated by Christ's death. In a kingdom of a lowly stable and an empty tomb, death birthed life.
To speak of kings and kingdoms, of subjects and peoples, requires a fair amount of translation for modern ears. Some, finding the translation too cumbersome, will opt for calling Jesus their CEO or therapist. But what will then be truly lost is not the title used, but the relationship implied.
To say Christ is king implies that we are subjects. The heart of this relationship is our dependence on a ruler who holds our lives in his hands. We do not choose a ruler as we elect a president, hire a CEO or contract with a therapist. We are Christ's people--we share the same eucharistic foods, we share the same story of faith, we stake our lives on the same hopes.
Here at the end of the church year, after living through another cycle of hearing the story of Jesus' life, of being taught by him in miracle and parable, we come to the coda of this hymn of praise. After another year of living our lives, burying our dead, baptizing our babies, marrying and divorcing, struggling and thriving, we bring all of the year's experiences to the climax of this day. We lay it all back at the feet of the one enthroned on the cross, giving thanks. It's great to be a people ruled in love and mercy.

and whilst on the topic of food, morality, etc.

Check out this National council of churches newsletter in time for Thanksgiving.

A tear for the seal pup

Tonight Wesley and I were watching a nice little program on animal planet about seal pups. At the end of the show, there was footage of something I've always heard about but have never seen (and have always been interested)--killer whales making sport of seal pups that they've recently captured. The narrator speculated that because the orcas keep the seal pups alive while they throw them around with their jaws, and because young orcas are present, they must be teaching the young to hunt. But then comes the indescribable--after the seal dies, the orcas fling the seals 50 or 60 feet in the air just seemingly for fun. The whole scene was amazing and disturbing.



Occasionally I can be romantic and idealistic about the natural world and its power to convey to humans the majesty and beauty of God. I don't think I could ever see this practice as beautiful though. Even carnivores hunting prey has a certain degree of beauty and necessity to it--this seems like it simply a cruel game. So--to put my own general outlook on the natural world to the test--how does this practice display God? If there is a moral underpinning to the universe, why would these animals, presumably not endowed with the faculties of morality, display cruelty? Perhaps, since they have no sense of morality, they simply do it because it entertains them? But if there is a universal undercurrent of love and compassion guiding the universe, wouldn't the default mode for creatures not able to choose the good simply be the good? So far, you see, I just have questions and no answers. I've known that orcas do this for some time, and have thought about it as a foil to some of my idealistic perspective toward the natural world, panentheism, process theology, etc.--but seeing it caused some fresh interrogation.

One thought is that Orcas playing with the dead body of a seal is no more cruel than humans throwing around a football that we have the intelligence to craft from the dead body of a cow (--of course, most footballs are synthetic leather, but you get my point--was it ever really pig-skin?). While we do have the perhaps unique ability of not choosing the good (according to classical theology), humans are also to blame for causing the earth to fall along with humankind. (Genesis 3:17)--of course, if I remember correctly, that curse was revoked after the flood as well. According to my understanding of Process theology, I would say that each creature has the capacity for "choosing" the divine aim, and while the divine aim might not be for orcas to torture seal pups, the orcas are free like anything and everything else to deviate from that Divine Aim. Of course, that seems to convey a lack of morality on the part of the orcas for engaging in "natural" behavior, and I'm not sure I can make that leap. Hmmmmm...... I need to get my Earth Bible commentary out and take a look at it. I also need the wisdom of my friend and sage Max, expert in all things Process theology. Max, are you out there? Care to comment?

Well, if that muddied the waters for you--help me get them clear again. Or, let's have a mud-fight!

Stalemate

As of late, I have not had much time to read or write anything but sermons. We've had all sorts of calamities that have been sapping our time. Wesley was sick, had to take him to the pediatrician. Lara got in a wreck, had to help her get x-rays, look for a new car, mess with insurance, etc. etc. Our new car is lovely, by the way. Here's a picture below our beautiful maple tree.

So--that explains the minimal effort to blog over the past couple/few weeks.
But, a couple things happened in the last couple days that jarred me out of my rut. Firstly, I was sitting on the front porch smoking my pipe in late afternoon and the light just changed. It became gold. I looked up and the setting sun was illuminating the aforementioned maple. our house faces east, so I was unaware of the setting sun until the tree started glowing. I grabbed the camera and took a photogram--


Another thing happened today. We took master Wesley to the ENT specialist and he diagnosed ANOTHER ear infection. He recommended tubes, and Wesley will be getting those next week. I didn't realize our poor boy will need to be put under to perform the surgery. I suddenly feel like a papa goose with one of his goslings being threatened. I know it will be best, but I'm nervous for him. I'm glad he's not old enough to worry. All this pales in comparison (doesn't it always) to a parishoner whose 2 day old granddaughter will be undergoing heart surgery in the next day or two to try and reroute her heart! She'll have another open heart surgery at 6 months and another after 2 years. I can't imagine being in that hospital room in Westwood holding my new baby boy and looking at the prospect of 3 open heart surgeries in the next two years. How do parents do it?????? Wesley's been strapping and healthy--I can't imagine the stress and angst and heartache that some parents feel for their newborns. What a cruel ordeal!
Through all this, I've been trying to come up with something to say about the widow's mite. I read something or other that said that the widow was able to give her all because she didn't have much in the first place. 2 copper coins wasn't going to do anything for her anyway. The rich gave a portion of their plenitude. Jesus pointed to her and said, "there's the Kingdom of God." Perhaps we are sometimes stripped bare before we are able to give our all to God. The four noble truths seem to echo in my mind associated with this story-- suffering is with us from birth: (dukkha--isn't that a great word for suffering?) The root of suffering is craving. The cessation of craving is the cessation of suffering. The path of this cessation of craving and suffering is the eightfold path. (right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration). the widow was actually rich because she expressed an absence of craving. The rich who gave more money gave out of their wealth--they weren't as impressive because they still clung to their wealth.

Well--that jumpstarted a few thoughts (not finished with sermon yet--I look forward to being able to weave in some Buddhism into the sermon) check on the church website for the finished product!
Pray for little Shelby! While you're at it, throw one in for Wes too--and his poor, worried pop!

Funny parent humor

Poor pumpkin

Posted By:Aaron

Get this video and more at MySpace.com

Little Cups

Two churches I have now pastored, and two churches who have significant numbers of people who are majorly skiddish about using a common cup to celebrate communion. This past month at charge conference our DS led communion. Because I wasn't sure what kind of turnout we would have, I simply elected to use my chalice to serve communion. We ended up having about 30 people--and that was great. As I served people the cup into which they would dip their bread, I noticed faces of apprehension and even disgust. Oh, how entrenched are we in our customs, especially around communion. It seems that the cultures I have served are perhaps concerned about the cleanliness of taking communion by intinction. Instead we use little cups.

What do little cups say about us as a culture of Christians? First of all, This Holy Mystery proclaims little cups to be the bane of eucharistic theology. Their use destroys the symbolism of the liturgy. "After the supper was over, Christ took the cup--no Christ took little plastic cups and gave one to each of his disciples, saying "Drink ye from each of thy little cups, throw them in the trash on the way out the door, and do this as often as you drink it--or once a month, whatever." I suppose it seems that I'm being a bit persnickity, but to me it is more powerful to offer a single cup. "One cup of blessing which we bless," the list goes on and on of all the references, hymns, prayers, etc. that aren't given visual representation becasue we want our own little cup.

Is the little cup indicitive of our radical individualism? When did they come into use, and why? Are they commonly used in other parts of the world?
"Are you willing to drink of my cup and share in my baptism?" says Jesus. "No thanks, I'll have my own little cup thank you," says the church.

Woo Pig Sooie

Good program coming up

Moyers on America : “Is God Green?”

PBS Airdate: Wednesday, October 11 at 9 p.m. (check local listings). 60 minutes.

A new holy war is growing within the evangelical community, with stakes for the earth and American politics. For over a decade liberal Christians have made the environment a moral commitment. Now some conservative evangelicals as well are standing up for the earth as a Biblical imperative of stewardship. From a dynamic conservative church in Boise , Idaho to an evangelical activist group known as Christians for the Mountains in West Virginia , grassroots believers are speaking out. So are some conservative evangelical leaders at the national level who have called for action to stop global warming. But they are being met head-on with opposition from religious right political figures like Jerry Falwell and James Dobson, who are pillars of the right-wing coalition that adamantly supports the Bush administration in downplaying the threat of global warming. The political stakes are high: three out of every four self-identified white evangelical voters cast their ballots for George W. Bush in 2004. The program explores how a serious split among conservative evangelicals over the environment and global warming could reshape American politics.

Read the small print

I switched to Blogger Beta becasue "it was a lot easier, blah blah blah." The problem is that it took all the html code I had with it. Now I have to relearn. No time.

Get out of my dreams

adventure

Poor ugly child

Charge Conference Time

I am soooo tired. I can't sleep a wink. I'm so--ooo---oooo tiiired. My mind is really on the brink.

My Cat Snores

I'm sitting here reading a good sermon on text week on the valley of the dry bones, and what do I hear? Snoring. Not from the little boy's room, not from my lovely bride who of course never snores, but from right behind me where Lao-Tzu, our calico, is curled up on the guest bed, on some mail that has been spread out there. (Why do cats love to lay on things that are laying on things: a shirt on the couch, a newspaper on the floor, mail on the bed.) In any case, it struck me as funny and worth sharing that this cat is reminding me of what I should be doing--as I will most likely get up at around 6am this morning to begin my chock full day of preparing for charge conference, putting finishing touches on Board of Ordained Ministry stuff, and other things.
I just read the lectionary for the week I get back from vacation--a goodie, Jesus quelling his disciple's argument on "who's the greatest" by sitting a child on his lap and saying, "You welcome this child and you welcome me, you welcome me and you welcome God." He was checking their egos and their motive for following. Perhaps Jesus snored too. Even worse, perhaps he pretended to snore just to annoy his disciples. Sometimes I lay in bed and giddily pretend to snore just to get under Lara's skin--I like her to think I can just go out like a light while she lays there thinking about this and that. Sometimes I start snoring while she is in the middle of involving me in her recounting of some happening of the day. This kind of activity is usually met by a loud sigh or perhaps a pinch. I wonder if Jesus' disciples ever regretted their decision to follow Jesus because they weren't getting really good sleep on account of his snoring. Jesus identified with the least and the powerless. Whenever we tend to glamorize Jesus, perhaps we need to put ourselves in camp with the disciples, listening to Jesus snore.

Confessions of a Clothes Hound

Lately my closet has been getting thicker. I'm ashamed to admit it, because I have a "prepared speech" on consumerism, materialism, etc. for young people that I feel very strongly about. But at the same time, I can't turn up 75% off ties with an extra 30% off at Dillards. Just for the record--in the past week, I've bought two dress shirts, a "smart casual" shirt, three ties, a pair of shorts, three polo shirts, and a short sleeve button up. My closet now extends into the guest bedroom so that my stuff won't get wrinkled.
Now--excuses, since I am self-righteous and all...I haven't added much onto my frame since college (or even high school) and some things in my closet have been there since then. Also--the grand total of this past week's shopping spree totaled to less than $100, even though the original prices would have totaled more like $600, so I am getting good bargains. But technically, I have enough dress clothes to go months withoug wearing the same thing twice. With all my suits, pants, etc. I could have enough combinations to go a year, maybe years, without repeating. IF I chose to wear polo-style shirts for a whole month, I could make it more than twenty days before I'd need to wear the same one again. And I have enough hawaiian shirts to take a whole vacation without repeating.
I am experiencing the classic "conscientious liberal" guilt, especially considering I could clothe a whole African village for years. But at the same time, I believe it is time to get rid of some of my "worn out" stuff I've had for years. Am I abnormal? Here is one case that optimism is being "tamed."

Books tag

1. One book that changed your life?

The Secret of Francis of Assisi, by Christian Bobin. The lyricism of the book made me fall in love with my own faith tradition. Lara and I would read it to each other when she visited me over in Oxford. I remember limiting myself to a chapter a night so it wouldn't go by too fast.


2. One book you have read more than once?

I don't think I've ever read any book twice. I will undoubtedly read The Last Temptation of Christ several times during my life though. Here is a book that deserves more than one read.


3. One book you would want on a desert island?

I think I'd take Philip Pulmann's "His Dark Materials" series. There are so many levels to the book. Of course, I'd have to send away in a bottle for the upcoming follow up--The Book of Dust. I suppose I'd be sheltered from the movie version. That'd be a good thing or a bad thing if all the hype is true.


4. One book that made you laugh?

Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies



5. One book that made you cry?

For Whom the Bell Tolls, Hemingway. I don't remember why. The Sun Also Rises also might have jerked a tear. I think I might've cried at the end of Lord of the Rings because I knew I'd never read it again for the first time. I really don't cry that often.

6. One book you wish had been written?

On the Road. The research would be fun.


7. One book you wish had never been written?
Anything by Anne Coulter. I wish she wasn't alive. Mein Kampf too I suppose, for the sake of humanity.



8. One book you are currently reading?

It's been a while since I've picked it up--but it is great--The Brief History of the Dead, by Kevin Brockmeier



9. One book you have been meaning to read?



The Bible--Never read the whole thing. I guess I'm a hypocrite

10. Now tag five people.
I'll just put three more recommendations here for Katherine. If you want to do this tag, fine.
Belden Lane's Solace of Fierce Landscapes
Kazantzakis--get into him.
The Faith we Sing--Since you like hymnals

My response to a fellow blogger to describe what God isn't--my allergies are acting up, by the way

God isn't like congestion. God is easily forgettable, whereas congestion is constantly menacing. God is sometimes too subtle and too forgettable to be Divine, but still God is divine in spite of Herself. God isn't like bad breath (which is sometimes a product of congestion). You don't want to get away from God like you do bad breath. God is like pine trees or kiwis or baby's hair. God is attractive and you can't get enough of Him.
Okay--more than ten words---Sorry--for the record, God isn't like word limits. God transcends every word in every language ever written. God is more like the combination of every sense feeling the maximum amount of sensation. And then God is more than that too.

yee haw

Always has his eyes on the next big thing....One of my dad's well known parishioners was invited into the pulpit a few Sundays ago. Dad had to stay home and preach in Oklahoma. Though the announcement of where Lara and Wes were did reveal a good number of Democrats in my parish. (Hallelujah!)

Hillary Clinton and the future president of the United States (if he wants to be). You can see the back of his head in the picture.

the Sauna

I've lived in three distinct climate regions, and I can honestly say that heat and humidity is the worst weather condition that might be sustained over a while. The people in the northern US can whine about snow all they want--and granted, humidity doesn't impair living conditions--other than the complete lack of desire to go outside. Besides, as far as how something feels to the skin, you can always put on more warm clothes, but you can't keep taking off. Even at the lake, the heat seeps into your skin and wears you out. Today is a grossly humid and hot day. Right now it is almost 8pm in Morris, OK. It is 96 degrees, and cloudy. However, the clouds in this occasion aren't welcome, because they just trap in the day's humidity. It actually feels like it is 104 because the humidity is at 45%. That's just ridiculous.

To my friends in SoCal who have been lulled into the misconception that 87 degrees with low humidity is a hot day--stick that in your pipe and smoke it!

Hockey champs Cameron and Wesley

The two I love most.

What the shuck is going on here?

In Memory

Paul watching Sesame Street with Wesley


Today I lost a great friend and mentor. Paul Bowles asked me to serve as youth minister at Bartlesville FUMC when I was in my last term at Hendrix. He had been the Tulsa DS, and I came to his office when I got back from Oxford, engaged to Lara. I told him that I'd be looking for a youth ministry job in the area, so to notify me if he heard of one coming available. I suppose I made a good impression on his secretary, and that turned out in my favor, because she was also his wife, Mary Jane! Paul did hear of a youth ministry job coming available, and it turned out to be at the church that he was being appointed to after coming off the cabinet. Paul and I were on the same wave-length. Once I took the position, Paul gave me his confidence. What a gift to a young, college grad. Over the next two years, he helped to guide me into the track for ministry. We always thought of Paul and Mary Jane as surrogate parents here in Oklahoma, and I know that they thought of us as "adopted kids." When we were weighing the decisions about moving back to Oklahoma from Arkansas, Paul was a wise colleague.

On the drive home from OKC today, I was thinking about the traits that Paul expressed. Paul was measured. He didn't seem to say something without really weighing it in his mind and really saying it. I don't think Paul had to backtrack very much. Paul and Mary Jane were the perfect yin and yang. Paul was more quiet and reserved, Mary Jane is more bubbly and vivacious. Paul did have an infectious little chuckle though.

What I keep thinking of today, what keeps bringing tears to my eyes, was the time that Paul shared with me the wedding liturgy that he wrote for his daughter and her groom. In the midst of him pointing out the different little points and subtle reasons he chose this or that way of saying something, I could tell he was proud of the liturgy, and it really was beautiful and poignant. I suppose what gets me is to know that he shared his pride with me--I suppose when a friend dies, we take some kind of comfort or solace in knowing we were important to that friend. Sharing pride makes us vulnerable, I believe--and that is one instance that lets me know that I was important to him as he was important to me.

For all of you reading this, do me a favor--send a prayer of comfort and healing to Mary Jane and their kids. What a sad loss. What a beautiful life.

First sermon in Morris

Until I get a church blog going here in Morris, this'll be the home of my sermons--
Here was today's--will write later about life in OK

Sermon texts
1 Sam 15:34-16:13
Mark 4:26-34

I hesitated at first to bring to you the Gospel reading today. This is the story that you’ve probably heard of as the mustard seed. It seems that God’s kingdom is not always spectacular and noticeable at first glance—in fact it rarely is. With the parable of the mustard seed, or the pine nut, as Eugene Peterson tells the story in his translation of the Bible that I read from today called the “Message,” we see Jesus comparing the Kingdom to something quite small and unremarkable.
I’m sure you’ve heard it said that “It’s always the last place you look.” I can attest to the truth of this statement, because unpacking boxes creates an enormous amount of mess, and I I’ve spent hours in the last week just looking for things that I had set down a few minutes before. It was only in recent years that I finally got the joke of this saying. Of course it is always the last place you look, because if you find what you’re looking for, you stop looking, right? Even if you find what you’re looking for in the first place you look, it is also the last place you look.
Jesus on several occasions shows us that what we usually don’t notice—what we call small and insignificant—are usually the most potent metaphors for God and God’s glorious kingdom. I hesitated to read this Gospel lesson today because I was just a bit concerned that those of you who helped me unload the U-haul would assume that the opposite might also be true. A 26 foot U-haul full of “stuff” is anything but inconspicuous. Lurching down 3rd street, scraping the branches of trees as I pulled it into our new home, I prayed, “Lord, give these people patience!” To my surprise and delight, we unloaded the van and even set up our bed in less than an hour! While Jesus tells us in the parables that good things come in small packages, I hope that today you might entertain the possibility that in my family’s presence with you here today, good things might also come in big packages too!
From what I’ve been able to tell from the bulletins I’ve seen, this congregation usually only hears one scripture lesson. I’ve been told that we pastors aren’t supposed to change anything in the worship service for at least a few months, and I had at first thought I’d base my sermon solely on the Samuel scripture—but this little pine nut kept coming to mind, and these scriptures go so well together.
Besides—I ride a bicycle okay, but I have never gotten up on a unicycle. Likewise, I need two scriptures to keep a sermon balanced and going in the right direction. With one I might just wobble around and fall on my face. I hope you don’t mind the change—I don’t preach a long time usually, and we’ll probably have room to hear two accounts of God’s story—our story—I think.
What strikes me about both of these scriptures that we heard today is that phrase from the Samuel reading—“the LORD does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.”
This is so clear in our Scriptures—that God always seems to choose those we’d least expect—Jacob and Joseph, Jonah and Ruth, Peter and Mary, even Jesus and David are unlikely candidates for God’s Spirit to stir within them. We all tend to judge on outward appearances.
Believe me, I’m aware of what my outward appearances are—young, green—and in my case the outward appearances are truly part of who I am—but thank God we have a Father in heaven that sees into our hearts--Sees our hearts not as fist-sized organs for pumping blood, but instead dwelling places large enough for God’s own Spirit!
I think this is why Jesus uses little seeds and little children and little farmers and little birds and flowers to point out the truth of God’s Kingdom. God is so immensely present in all things that sometimes it is the smallest things that give us an insight into who God is. We can wrap our feeble minds around the small things. The kingdom is indeed like a seed. Martin Luther said that the whole universe is infused with the totality of God—he said that even a grain of wheat, designed and brought into being by our creator, contains God’s presence. Meister Eckhart, a 14th century mystic and pastor, said, “Apprehend God in all things
for God is in all things.
Every single creature is full of God
and is a book about God.
Every creature is a word of God.
If I spent enough time with the tiniest creature -
even a caterpillar -
I would never have to prepare a sermon.
So full of God is every creature.
Mark tells us that Jesus gives us the Word as we are able to hear it. It has always been inspiring to me that God wants to be known and loved so much that we are given these stories that are so profound and yet so simple. A farmer casting out seed and then falling asleep—while the kingdom sprouts in his midst without him even knowing how. The kingdom is like that isn’t it?! How many times have you simply said something very offhandedly or perhaps even been unaware of how deeply you have touched someone else? My first year of ministry taught me this humbling parable in my own experience. Every week I struggled to find the right words to convey what I believe God wants me to convey, and then after I would deliver a sermon, I usually forgot about it and moved on to preparing for next week’s sermon—
but later in the week a parishioner might come up to me and tell me how something in particular I had said had really made a difference in their outlook that week. It may have even been something I forgot about saying!
What a gift it is to see the grain ready for the harvest! What a mystery it is to know that a simple smile or gesture of good will can make such a difference to someone.
The inverse is true as well of course, the slightest wag of the tongue, the smallest little whisper of a broken confidence sometimes bears the largest consequences of all—even while we “sleep” and forget about what we have said or done, our carelessness can sometimes spiral out of control.
Saul knew of this carelessness. You might ask yourself why Saul had fallen out of God’s favor—why, as the scriptures tell us, “God regretted ever having made Saul king.” It was just the slightest slip up—God had commanded Saul to conquer and kill the Amelekites—from top to bottom—from the King himself to the scrawniest goat in his Kingdom, and yet Saul had given permission to his warriors to take the choicest livestock as spoils of war.
As the scriptures show us, God loves shepherds—God is a shepherd. But God chooses a shepherd who would lay down his life for his flock, not lay down the lives of others for their flocks. Jesus tells us that he is the kind of Shepherd who would spend all day searching for the tiniest lost lamb, and Saul becomes the kind of shepherd who chooses the best livestock for himself.
Jesus chooses the mustard seed, and Samuel calls in Jesse’s youngest son from the fields where he is tending sheep and anoints him as the next king. Jesus says, “I am the Good Shepherd,” and David is celebrated as a fierce defender of his sheep—an unexpected King who comes out of the pasture to defeat giants and to lead a nation in the worship of God. Who would expect this of a shepherd boy?
Samuel tells us that God doesn’t see as we see, but God looks at a person’s heart. In a sense, Jesus is telling us the same thing with the parable of the mustard seed. The heart of a mustard seed is what it will become—and God doesn’t write off the seed because it is small and inconspicuous.
I have been a pastor for the past year at a small church, so I know that at times we can feel somewhat small and insignificant in comparison to the other more “successful” churches, the churches with so much to offer, the churches with the huge programs and the new buildings. But I can tell you that God chooses us as long as we have a heart for God. I’m not saying that God chooses us and not those big churches, because many of them are doing great things for the glory of God—but what I am saying is that God chooses us in the same measure that God chooses those other places.
God loves to dwell in our hearts, and physical size has no bearing on the size of heart. I can attest to you that in my short encounter with you thus far, I see a heart open to God—I see a pine tree with an Eagle’s nest. In the outpouring of help we have received, in the welcome baskets full of brownies and fresh vegetables and salsa and canned goods, in the pounding of steaks and beef and pound cake and other goods, in the in the ministries and motivation that I have witnessed at this past week’s church council meeting,
it is obvious to me that this church witnesses God’s presence. Being welcoming is a response to God’s grace pouring into and out of a place. Jesus says in the gospel of 7th chapter of John, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let anyone who believes in me drink. And out of the believer’s heart will come rivers of living water.” The Living water is the refreshing, purifying Holy Spirit—and in my opinion the Living water is often experienced as “welcoming.” Judging on our reception here, I would proclaim it as good news that this family of faith has felt the thirst in your throats and has dug the well to the heart of Christ—and that you drink from it and are now spilling over with the Spirit’s presence.
As your pastor, I see it as my calling to remind us of our thirst—remind us that this thirst creates possibilities for others to drink from the living waters which in turn flow out of our hearts.
Thirst causes us to see pine trees in pine nuts—to see shepherd boys as kings. Living this way takes constant hope. It takes a relentless hope in the possibilities of things unseen. But—as we have heard, God sees the things unseen, and God puts stock in mustard seeds, and shepherds, and us! amen

I also messed with this one.

You can see one what one of the geese did to Lao-Tzu's rump. She was pretty humiliated.

Unlikely visitors

This one's taken on an old Holga.

Central Park photo shoot with my sister Haley. He is pretty intelligent, I'd say.

Here's the original. I've used hp image zone to fool with it.

Taking a break and playing with Wesley on the computer. Here we've doctored some photos. This one is "antiqued." I think it looks like it could sit in a photo album from 1978.

Tuesday Drive

A big Uhaul, two cats and a baby boy, and a lot of help. We know the way, but now you do too.

Good one

Diamonds on the Soles of my shoes

I was researching sermon ideas when I saw this photo of the Ascension by Salvador Dali. I was struck and delighted. My sermon will focus on not "gawking up at heaven" as the disciples did, but instead following the feet of Christ.

For the children's sermon, I decided to use the image to talk about my "beautiful feet." Feet are so taboo--I don't know many main-line congregations (including my own) who have the gumption to do an actual foot-washing service these days. I'll talk with the kids about how Isaiah says "How beautiful are the feet on the mountains of the one who brings [the Good News], and how that means my feet are beautiful too. Perhaps I'll talk about how I used to be ashamed of my feet because I had a big gap between my big toe and the rest of my toes--but now I'm proud of them because they bring me places where I can share the good news.
While daydreaming about the sermon, I also thought of a surprise for the kids
I'll show them the bottom of my feet and tell them I drew those crosses to remind me that everywhere I step, Jesus walks with me (name of the sermon is "Jesus Walks"--thanks Kanye). I'll ask them if their feet are beautiful too, then suggest that they carry the Good news that God loves the world--as Jesus asks his disciples to do at the Ascension.

Use it if it helps.
Peace

Balance to biblical lighting zaps

I've always been fascinated and bothered by the story of Elijah going to the mountain and calling down a cosmic meltdown against the Canaanite priests. Here's a story from Daniel that offers another approach to foreign "wise men." God intercedes to save the Chaldeans---
Also, this story reminds me of the scene in Last Temptation of Christ when Jesus tells Pilate, "I am the stone that smashes the clay feet of the statue." Pilate is best played in all cinematic history by David Bowie in this movie. Removed but curious, like he is trifling with the Jews for his own amusement. Perfectly imagined as a Roman governor.

5 reasons I think I'm cool

Here's an interesting tag--Actually, I don't quite know how a tag works, but I've seen the phrase on Katherine's blog and it's usually followed by a list. So here one that I thought of that's sincere and funny, and perhaps revealing. IF you want to try out the list in the comments, or on your own blog--have at it. The idea for this list was sparked when I was trying to get something off my computer that was bugging me, and I noticed that when we had gotten our new computer, I had named it HAL. I had forgotten that I had done that, so when I remembered that I had at one point, I felt really cool. Are there things that you feel are cool about you? I recommend getting them out in the open--it is quite liberating.

1. I named my computer HAL
2. I liked Bottle Rocket when Wes Anderson first gained a following. I remember making my high school friends watch it and feeling really cool that I liked it better than they did, and then Wes Anderson became a fairly respected director.
3. I have a scar on my knuckle where I punched a guy in the tooth in 7th grade gym class. He kept gleeking on me, and I told him to stop or else I'd spit a hawker in his face because I couldn't do it. So, he did and I spit a hawker in his face and hit him in the tooth. That was cool of me. Steve McQueen in training.
4. I've gotten comments lately on my posts--they are from people who I think sound really cool--so that means I must sound really cool.
5. Most of the time I drink plenty of water. I'm healthy.

Hmm, that was interesting. I felt like my ego took a nice, big stretch.

Look how my buddy Chad's stance is mirrored by the tree. I suppose they're both trying not to slide down the hill. This is at a little pull off on the interstate through the Smokies in North Carolina/Tennessee border.

I've always liked this country diner in Ola, Arkansas. I had my camera last time I went to Little Rock.

Champion of cuteness vs. the ugly ducks

Preparing to Confirm

This coming Sunday I'll be baptizing two "tweenagers" and then confirming them and three others in our Sunday service. Look for pix after the event on the church website. This is the third time I've taught or helped to teach confirmation, but the first time I'll be serving the "priestly function." For some reason, confirmation has always seemed very important to me. It is the time when kids take some time to consider an adult decision, and then most likely return to being kids. The event is usually understood better in retrospect, like when the two disciples who walked with Jesus to Emmaus thought after Jesus had disappeared from their midst, "How our hearts burned within us when he was walking with us and opening the scriptures."
With my own confirmation, I remember sitting in my dad's office at Sequoia UMC in Fayetteville. I don't remember much of the content. I remember going to a Shabbat service at the local synagogue and being mystified, then bored when the entirety (or what seemed like the entirety) of the service was conducted in Hebrew. I remember the Rabbi taking the scroll around the small congregation of people, and the way the people's eyes followed the Torah. I remember standing outside after the service was over and seeing a satellite drop out of the sky. I think I remember seeing it so clearly that I could actually make out the shape of the satellite. That's all I remember about confirmation. I don't remember any of the content. I think I actually remember the service when folks in the church lay their hands on me. I remember that being powerful and feeling really good. I remember feeling the pride and prayers of the people there coursing through their hands and into my hair and spine and shoulders. It really is a empowering feeling.
I suppose that's what I'm looking forward to most about this weekend. I hope that my confirmands remember that ritual. They can forget the content of the lessons we have had (I did), and they will probably remember the same things. We'll be visiting a Catholic, Episcopal, and Shabbat service this coming Friday, so they'll probably remember that and the service. Who knows? Maybe something will drop out of the sky and stamp the event in their mind too.

OKLAHOMA

Here's why I haven't posted in so long--We've been in the process of getting information about my new church in Morris, Oklahoma (south of Tulsa and right outside Okmulgee) I just received the directory the other day--looks like a great church with lots of life and fun. I knew I'd fit in when I saw a caption of one of the pictures of the congregation re-painting and carpeting the sanctuary. The picture had a kid painting a wall with a grown up behind him--the caption read, "Paint the fence, Daniel-son." I laughed and then delighted that someone else brings up a Karate Kid reference 20 years after the move came out.
I really like the guy who is presently my DS, but he's moving to Tulsa to a church. He promises that the incoming DS is very competent and even better looking. I like Okies. We had a bang up Easter Sunday--107 in worship--that's the best in years I think. Everyone was really proud of the worship service, and we had a full-blown processional. See the church blog for pix.
Lara and I haven't begun to pack yet--too busy. I recently coordinated a regional conference for the NCC in Little Rock on the subject of Climate change, Creation, and the Church. It was a hoot. And now that we're getting close to 100 degrees in April, I doubt many will find the subject that laughable.