Cue 2019

If you need to be reminded of all the ways in which time keeps turning and you are loved and called by name, maybe read the whole daily office, today.

I was struck anew by what must have seemed like a “tag” at the end of the traditional Hebrew blessing from Numbers, which hangs prominently in my home, which I pray over my children, and which I often use as the benediction when I preach.  Seems I never get to verse 27, which is weird, because naming is important enough to me that you would think this would have captured my attention at some point:

Numbers 6:24-27 “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.  So they shall put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them” (NRSV). 

I have been caught in what might be a perpetual identity crisis for so long I’m not even certain when it began.  To be sure, there is some imposter syndrome going on, as my life has taken some crazy twists and turns in recent years, and I often find myself in places and wonder how the heck I got there (figuratively, not literally… there’s GPS for that).  Maybe I am averse to the whole “I may not know who I am, but I know whose I am,” cliché.  I mean, it’s a cliché, so I probably am averse to it.  But what I mean is, maybe this is why I’ve missed the sliver of truth that lies therein (that’s the problem with clichés, after all…  there is some reason people keep using them, but it can be painstaking work to ferret it out).  Being named by God, though… that’s not cliché.  And being God’s people?  We should take that seriously.

So, my MO for Flip Flops, Glitter, and Theology has been to not write about my family too often.  I have a super (not) secret Mommy blog for that, so this space can be reserved for theological inquiry and discourse.  But I just have to tell you, the coming of this new year is hitting me hard, because it’s the first year I will graduate kids from high school, and if there is one thing I have never questioned, even in the midst of the complete deconstruction and reconstruction of who I am (multiple times over), it’s my role as their mom.  Many things have changed, but they are what I always wanted.  I think I’m going to avoid a full-fledged mid-life crisis (although some people would argue I’m already having one), because I’ll still have three non-adult humans at home when #1 and #2 take off, and I anticipate I will be far too exhausted for a crisis by the time #5 grows up.  But still, I do suck at transitions and this one that’s looming over me feels ominous.  

Cue Mary: 

Luke 2:19 “But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart” (NRSV).

Clearly, I’ve been thinking a lot about all these words (or as the NIV puts it all these things) that were first foreshadowing and then began to take on flesh as my children have grown.  Sometimes the things we dream turn out exactly the way we imagined and sometimes they don’t.  Overall, though, I have been blessed with a lot of wonderful moments to treasure and ponder, and there is a part of me that looks forward to the future, even though letting go can be rough, because I see every day, in the present, just how incredible these people are and how blessed the world is to have them in it.  Which brings me in a roundabout way to Ecclesiastes… the time for everything… but also the struggle to understand time as it is (cue: Landslide, Dixie Chicks version):

Ecclesiastes 3:1-13 “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.  What gain have the workers from their toil? I have seen the business that God has given to everyone to be busy with. He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil” (NRSV).

A sense of past and future in our minds, yet an impossible quest to discern how it all fits together, leads to the only reasonable conclusion… be happy while you live in the moment you have right now.  If I am anything, I’m a thinker and a planner, so this is a very difficult direction for me to follow.  I take snapshots of moments, precisely because I do not want to lose them and then lose moments, taking snapshots.  Vicious cycle…

But if we wonder what it is that we should actually occupy ourselves with in the ordinary flow of our lives, this is it:  

Matthew 25:34b-40 (NRSV) “‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me’” (NRSV). 

If we belong to God… if God’s name is written on our hearts… then these are the words… these are the things to treasure.  And, you know what?  Sometimes we really screw it up.  In fact, I think we might screw it up more often than we don’t (at least it seems so from my own personal experience, but yours might be different).  Maybe that’s part of why we’re so obsessed with new beginnings, with chances to start over.  Maybe it’s why we reinvent ourselves.  Maybe it’s even why we sometimes resort to throwing stuff up against the wall and hoping it might stick strong enough and long enough to mark our identities as something worthwhile.     

Undoubtedly, in all of it, God is near, and God seems to understand something of the need for creative beginnings and ends: 

Revelation 21:3a-6a “’See, the home of God is among mortals.  He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes.  Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’  And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’ Also he said, ‘Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.’ Then he said to me, ‘It is done!’” (NRSV). 

For the past several years, my mantra (with a hashtag, of course, because it is the age of social media) has centered around words and concepts like #LessFear and #Fearless.  It has been exhausting; there have been many moments when I have wondered whether or not I am broken beyond repair.  Most recently, I have even felt as if my very spirit might be crushed (see: PhD work has been brutal to my humanity and my current GPA makes me cry on and off… nobody panic or consider not hiring me, though… it’s still very acceptable, just impossible for this perfectionist to square).  This year, I’m aiming for #Resilience.  May we all stand up and bounce back (cue: weebles… now those things make for good childhood stories).

Happy New Year!

L.

Sunday Sermon, November 26, 2017

The link below is for the sermon I preached at Asbury United Methodist Church in Portland, IN on Sunday, November 26th.  Just as a side note, I began this sermon by waiting in silence for about 30-40 seconds...  That context helps to make sense of the first few lines...  I'm also planning to wear contact lenses in the future when I preach, because apparently I feel the need to push my glasses up every 3-4 seconds...  whatever...

L.

Creeds: It’s Almost Advent

We are so bad at waiting.  And by we, I mean me… but I also mean you.

So, it’s almost Advent.  Every time the liturgical season changes, I find myself saying, “This season is my favorite time of year!”

I say it about Lent and Christmas and Easter and even Ordinary Time.  Advent is no exception, and I’m laughing at myself just a little bit, because even though I claim to be a realist in theory and sometimes measure up closer to a pessimist in practice; as it turns out, I really do love the whole year!  I’m thankful for the changing of liturgical seasons to remind me of this. 

Today, I’ve been working on a sermon for November 26^th, the Sunday before Advent begins.  My local church has opted to extend the Advent season a bit in order to utilize a very beautiful art series, which requires a couple of extra weeks.  It seems we’re not waiting for the waiting!  Ironic.  With this in mind, it made sense for me to move on to the next phrases in the creeds, fully submersed in my own thoughts about how the conception of Christ came to be. 

The Apostles Creed:

“Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost,
Born of the Virgin Mary,”

The Nicene Creed:

“For us and for our salvation
he came down from heaven:
by the power of the Holy Spirit
he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary,
and was made man.”

Conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, God incarnate, born to a virgin.   

Stop for a minute and think about that.  I mean, really think about it.  Don’t just skim over it, because that’s the temptation for a story so familiar.  This is unbelievable stuff!

Mary is totally perplexed and presumably terrified (the angel says, “Don’t be afraid”), and can we really blame her?  Yet I’m always amazed that she doesn’t say, “No.”

I want to be exceedingly clear that I think she could have.  Who are we to know if others did?  We have Mary’s narrative, because instead of running from what must have, undoubtedly, been the craziest thing she had ever experienced in her short life; she asked a question that seems to seal the deal.  “How can this be?”

Some translations go on to tell of the lack of impossibility with God, and I like those words.  They’re good words.  But there’s something particularly endearing about the NIV when the words are interpreted, instead, “No word from God will ever fail” (Luke 1:37, NIV).

Sometimes I’m not sure we can wrap our minds around impossible things, but I feel fairly confident that we can embrace the tension between failure and success, knowing full well that neither tends to look like anything we ever could have expected.

The word… or perhaps, the Word (Jesus) will not fail.

And with that, Mary offers consent.  “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38, NRSV), and the rest is history… and theology… and salvation… as God and humanity work together to birth redemption into the world.  (But not yet…  pause in the time of waiting that is quickly approaching to remember what it is to anticipate…)

 
L.

God Who Tastes

There’s a reason I saved this one for last.  I have never, ever heard anyone preach, teach, or even speak about the God who tastes.  In some way, I think it’s too difficult around which to wrap our minds.  We can wax metaphorical about sight, sound, and touch.  Admittedly, smell was a little more difficult.  But taste is so completely human.  It’s hard to create a sense of spirituality around something so common…

Interestingly, though, if we’re going to embrace the trinity, where Jesus is certainly one of the three; we might have more evidence of a tasting God than any other sense.  How often do we find Jesus around the table?  A lot…

Jesus eats with tax collectors and sinners (see Mark 2).

Jesus presumably eats with his good friends: Martha, Mary, and Lazarus (see Luke 10) and a random guy he finds in a tree (see Luke 19).

Jesus feeds hoards of people with almost nothing… twice… (see Matthew 14 and 15).

The last thing Jesus does with his twelve disciples is to share the first Eucharistic meal (see Matthew 26), and then he becomes the Eucharistic meal… which is fascinating, since he also teaches that we are something of a food additive… salt of the earth (see Matthew 5).

Peter writes that we can actually taste the goodness of the Lord (see I Peter 2).

Jeremiah suggests that we can eat God’s words (see Jeremiah 15), and the author of Hebrews backs it up (see Hebrews 6).  Ezekiel takes it literally (see Ezekiel 3).

Why don’t we ever speak plainly about the God who tastes and… related… the God we can eat?  I’m not sure.  Maybe it’s because we’re afraid of the same repercussions that Jesus faced in John 6 or that the Catholic Church faced in light of a misunderstanding regarding cannibalism!  Seriously… I have no idea!

But clearly, in this search for holistic spirituality that encompasses physical sense as well as mind and spirit, taste is not to be excluded.

Gathering to eat together is one of the most vulnerable, intimate things we can do.  This past week, I learned that there has been a recent study regarding the impact that eating the same foods, with others, has on our relationship and interactions.  One observation from this study was, “Food is about bringing something into the body. And to eat the same food suggests that we are both willing to bring the same thing into our bodies. People just feel closer to people who are eating the same food as they do. And then trust, cooperation, these are just consequences of feeling close to someone” (read the whole article, here).  It’s incredible!  I wonder how we might cooperate more quickly, efficiently, and effectively if we were all eating Jesus!

L.

To Say Less

Isaiah 40:6, "A voice says, 'Cry out.'  And I said, 'What shall I cry?'" (NIV)

Today is the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, just in case you needed a quick reminder... or have never heard of such a day... like me.  I'm not 100% sure how we should celebrate this, but a few thoughts from the lectionary passages gave me a clue.

I think we might talk too much about all the wrong things.  If I start beating a dead horse, here, let me know, because I remember posting about similar topics in recent days.  I think we talk too much about what we don't know and, in turn, silence the people whose voices need to be heard.  I think we often mean well when we do this.  We think we are bringing attention to the problems in the world.  We think we are being a part of the solution.  And then we realize that we actually have no idea what the solution is.  We hear the voice saying, "Cry out!"  We cry out.  And then we realize we don't know which words to cry.  This is exceptionally difficult for someone who loves words.

I suppose Zechariah experienced this more profoundly than anyone.  An angel appears to him and foretells the birth of his son, John, but since Zechariah and Elizabeth are old, Zechariah just can't grasp it.  Quite verbally, he cannot believe, so the angel basically says, "Wrong words.  Now you can't talk until someone says the right name."  It's sort of like a childhood game of jinx gone terribly bad.  So when Zechariah has the opportunity to fix this error, some months of silence later, he is quick to do so.  Interestingly, when his mouth is opened again, it's as if he can't stop speaking!  Filled with the Holy Spirit, he gives us these beautiful words of truth:

Luke 1:68-79, "Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has come to his people and redeemed them.  He has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David (as he said through his holy prophets of long ago), salvation from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us - to show mercy to our ancestors and to remember his holy covenant, the oath he swore to our father Abraham: to rescue us from the hand of our enemies, and to enable us to serve him without fear in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.  And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace" (NIV).

Well, that's powerful.  These are the kind of words I want.

Something else that was striking, today, were some of the words of David, from Psalm 85.  What stood out to me most is that the Psalm begins with David speaking, requesting things of God (and that's good and right and important), but then, about halfway through, it changes direction when David proclaims that he will listen:

"I will listen to what God the Lord says; he promises peace to his people, his faithful servants - but let them not turn to folly.  Surely his salvation is near those who fear him, that his glory may dwell in our land.  Love and faithfulness meet together; righteousness and peace kiss each other.  Faithfulness springs forth from the earth, and righteousness looks down from heaven.  The Lord will indeed give what is good, and our land will yield its harvest.  Righteousness goes before him and prepares the way for his steps" (Psalm 85:8-13).

The words that follow the listening seem to be the ones that matter most.

I wonder how often we allow God to prepare us before we speak.  I wonder how often we are willing to remain quiet for longer than it feels comfortable in order to be certain that when we do speak we will say the right words.  And by "we," of course I mean "me".

John comes to prepare the way for the Lord.  Preparation matters.  Sometimes we are also used in the lives of others to prepare the way.    Once we have done so, there is another hard truth.  John knew it:

"He must become greater; I must become less" (John 3:30, NIV).

To speak less, to be less, these are not the things that people generally pursue.  But OK.  What shall I say?

L.