Shut Up and Speak Grace

Perennially, the story of Elijah in hiding is one of my favorites.  I’m not sure what it says about me that I derive a sense of peace from a narrative about a man who is running for his life—from isolation and wind and earthquake and fire:   

I Kings 19:11-12, “He said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.’ Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.”

If I’m honest, of course, it is the “sound of sheer silence” and the journey that follows which actually draw me back to these words, time and time again.  Somehow, this underscores the point that it is neither the volume of words we speak nor the capacity for extensive dramatic flair that actually matter… quality over quantity…  but, what defines the quality of our speech?   

Ephesians 4:25 and 29 read, “So then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another… Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear” (NRSV).

“Speak truth,” is fairly common jargon (if not practice) in Christian circles, but I hate how this phrase is often conflated with the concept of passing judgment.  What if speaking truth was more about being honest about who we are than putting others in their places?  What if speaking truth was more confessional than confrontational?  What if truth offered the very grace our people (that’s everybody… “members of one another”) need—building up by sharing our humanity as opposed to tearing down by spreading lies… about ourselves?

 
L.

Does Confession = Repentance?

I’m piggy-backing a little bit on today’s post at These Ordinary Days, because as I consider the sacraments, confession has risen to a highly elevated place of importance in my life, yet I think I may have neglected to tie this in well with repentance.

I want it to be a ‘given’ that when we confess—personally, communally, and systemically—we are actually sorry enough to turn away from our sin and turn toward something better… someone better…  Jesus… redemption…

I’m not sure I’ve always been great at that, though, and I wonder how many others might share this struggle.

Confession, on its own, is difficult.  To say, “I was wrong, I’m sorry, and I love you,” is to be vulnerable in all kinds of ways that bring discomfort to humanity.  Ooh…  Have a song:

The Catholic Catechism speaks to the sacrament of forgiveness in this way, “the sacrament of Penance offers a new possibility to convert and to recover the grace of justification” (1446).  Oddly enough, Protestants don’t seem to grasp this as so salvific in nature, and I’m not entirely certain why.   

Coming from a Wesleyan viewpoint, it actually makes perfect sense that we should confess our sins, contritely, as often as we are aware of them.  For I surely hope that we have left in the past the idea that sanctification is synonymous with literal perfection.  None of us has arrived.  Interestingly, the Catechism seems to tie this need for penance directly to the very working of the Holy Spirit in lives and hearts.  Perhaps to be sanctified wholly (holy) is, in part, to recognize our continuing need for confession that leads to penitent action.

Language matters, and these are some words I think we should use more liberally:

Contrition: “Sorrow of the soul and detestation for the sin committed, together with the resolution not to sin again” (1451).

Confession (disclosure): “Through such an admission man (woman, child) looks squarely at the sins he (she) is guilty of, takes responsibility for them, and thereby opens himself (herself) again to God and to the communion of the Church in order to make a new future possible” (1455, parentheticals mine).  

Satisfaction/Penance: “One must do what is possible in order to repair the harm” (1459)… “It must correspond as far as possible with the gravity and nature of the sins committed” (1460).

This concept of a new future together overwhelms me, almost to tears.  After all, isn’t this what we ultimately hope for as the Kingdom of God continues to break into our lives? 

May we recognize our wrongs, prompted by the Holy Spirit, and may we make them right again, by grace.

L.

Sacred Space

It’s Sacramental Saturday, and although I (and others) have spent many hours and days exploring proper sacraments in this space; I’d like to briefly consider space, itself, tonight… this space… physical space… mental and emotional space… just… space…

I think we need it: I don’t think we allow for enough of it (simplistic enough).

The only way this ever gets remedied is for us to make space a priority.

And so I am tempted to talk about spiritual disciplines and how we must fill our spaces with them.  I am inclined to lean toward inward disciplines—particularly toward disciplines of abstinence, because it seems as if they might be the ones that best allow for space.  But I want to be careful, because even the thrust toward disciplines such as silence and solitude can become a burden if we do not first recognize the need for clear space… empty space… overall.  These things are not interchangeable.

I live in a culture overwhelmed with noise, and not just the kind you hear.  Even if I manage to sneak away to a quiet corner of my world where auditory noise is almost eliminated (the hum of the air conditioner isn’t something I’m willing to part with on such a hot, humid day); my mind will continue to run. 

Visual noise is, quite possibly, an even greater danger.  How about some stats? The sheer number of screens available to me at any given time is staggering—and addictive.  I should absolutely admit that it is addictive, because as I am typing even this post about space; I am slightly panicked over the fact that I accidentally left the power cord for my laptop 222 miles from where I now sit, I only have 33% battery life remaining (which should last approximately two hours), and I’m concerned that if my battery drops below a certain level I will need to quickly send this particular document to some remote location, so I can access it on one of the other four computers currently at my disposal.  Four!  This will, in turn, bring great irritation to one of my children, because it will leave him or her without a functioning computer for at least several minutes.  Depending on the child this affects, he or she may request the use of a hand held video game or tablet during such time.  And I think there may be eleven available options.  Eleven!  But if none of those devices are sufficient, perhaps one of the three smart phones or the TV will do. 

There is no space.

This post isn’t going in all the beautiful unplugged, hands free directions you might assume, though.   

As it turns out, I’m not much of an advocate for unplugged and hands free, except in rare circumstances (water parks are a good one), because my world requires technology for communication.  And communication matters—a lot.

So no, I’m not going to guilt you into putting your phone down, because you’re missing your life, and, in fact, I might encourage you to pick it up if it includes a camera, because that’s a fabulous way to chronicle the everyday memories that might otherwise be forgotten.

I am, however, going to ask you to think about when… and where… and for how long you might be able to clear some space to simply be covered by the grace that loves you because you exist.  No strings… no requirements… no pressure.

Sacramental and disciplined living is important and transformative, but it must begin with accepting that which we cannot do, if we hope to recognize God at work.

 
L. 

Wash My Feet, Please!

Several weeks ago, I thought I had made an incredible discovery.  I was going to call it the eighth sacrament.  I was really excited.  But as I sat on it and continued to contemplate the implications, it occurred to me that it was more of an extension of baptism and an outward sign for confession.  So, I'm not sure it's number eight, but I am sure it's important.     

John 13:3-17: Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.  He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”  Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”  “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”  Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”  “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!”  Jesus answered, “Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean.  When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

If baptism is the seal of sonship (daughtership, childship, etc.), the initiation into the people of God as a part of the Church, the declaration that we are the beloved; surely the washing of feet should follow.

Once the whole body is clean... may I go as far as to say, once the whole body is drowned... the grace of belonging to the family has been imparted.  We belong to God, we belong to the Church, we belong to each other.  But we still get our feet dirty.

We still get our feet dirty, because once we're clean we keep walking.  And most of the time, we don't walk on water.  Sure, some of us wrap our toes in socks and shoes and arrive home at the end of most days looking no worse for the wear.  And by some of us, I really mean some of you, because I'm just not that good.  I'm more of a run through the dust in my flip flops on a regular basis and pull them off, altogether, when I realize I'm ankle deep in mud kind of girl.  I understand Peter's panic.  "Hey, Jesus!  I think I might need you to take a look at my hands and head, too!"

But Jesus makes a really interesting turn here.  He emphasizes that the feet are the issue (where did you journey, today), and then he empowers the disciples to continue to wash one another, to continue to serve one another, bringing blessing to both the giver and receiver of such grace.

Outward sign, inward grace, instituted by Jesus...  Go wash feet...

L.

Food and Grace

Matthew 14:15-17, "As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, 'This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.'  Jesus replied, 'They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.'  'We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,' they answered" (NIV).

I have no idea how many times I have read this passage over the course of my life.  Dozens?  Hundreds?  I had it memorized as a teenager.  I have always been a little critical of the disciples who witness this miracle of the feeding of the five thousand... and then can't figure out how Jesus will feed four thousand on another day.

And yet, I am so like them...

Here, lately, life has been a pretty wild series of ups and downs, particularly in regard to launching new ministry.  And me?  Well, I'm over here talking to myself half the time (I'm pretty good company, just in case you wondered), vacillating between high levels of excitement and low levels of self esteem on most days.  Scratch the good company thing, but I am, at least, entertaining...

I'm a little irritated with myself, though.  I mean, really, how many times am I going to throw my hands up in the air and proclaim that five loaves and two fish are not enough?

II Corinthians 12:9 (well, part of it), "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (NIV).

I will never forget the first time I ever heard the word used for sufficient, in this passage, defined as "just enough".  I think it's pretty rare to remember specific parts of any sermon, and it just makes it all the more significant that this one was preached thirteen or fourteen years ago.  It was Dr. Jerry Porter at the Iowa District ordination service in either 2002 or 2003.  The irony is thick that I can remember the words but not the exact year...

I think it's possible that we all have a desire for more than enough grace.  I know I sure do.  I want it to fall from the sky like manna, and I want to store it up, and I don't want it to stink in the morning. 

But it doesn't work that way.

And so, today, I am starkly reminded that weakness is OK... and I have made a commitment to less fear... and I just need enough to get to tomorrow... at which point I will, again, need enough to get to tomorrow... and the tomorrow after that...

L.