To No Fanfare

I have too many potential ideas for posts running around in my head, today, and I also have an incredibly quiet office…  This is either going to end well or not…

I woke up to a pageview ticker that informed me Flip Flops, Glitter, and Theology had flipped 50,000 pageviews, while I slept.  I thought I would watch this happen (like I did as I neared the 10,000 mark), but life is incredibly different now than it was then… and it hasn’t really been that long. 

I was deep in thought about small things and big things and how sometimes small things seem big (either in positive or negative ways), but then you live a little bit more, and perspective is so fluid. 

I spent last week thinking a lot about big fish in small ponds and how the ponds I once thought were lakes now look more like puddles to me, and also about how I have absolutely no desire to flop around in them like an oxygen deprived fish.  I was thinking about how I used to be so desperate to be seen and heard in circles that no longer matter to me, because I am being seen and heard in bigger bodies of water… like the ocean.  I really like the ocean.  And I had a brief moment of panic when someone suggested I might be gaining enough traction to become a big fish there, and I don’t want that!  I mean, I honestly don’t!  I have this new, bigger dream than I ever imagined was possible, and I’m OK if it continues to change and grow, but I legitimately don’t want to be blown out of the water.  I’m getting kind of old for that!

Interestingly, the daily office related well to the stuff I was already thinking, which continues to blow my mind, year after year after year… 

So, shout out to the minor prophet Zechariah who was brave enough to pen these words,  “For whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice” (4:10a, NRSV).

I sure have lived that—the despising of the day of small things.  The Psalmist also writes about days, “When they were of little account” (see Psalm 105), and it’s interesting how it doesn’t stay that way, even when it seems the small stuff is never-ending. 

Every once in awhile, I actually wish I could return to a simpler time.  But then I remember how much I love what God is doing in the world, and I’m not willing to miss out on my part, whatever it may be!

L.

What Our Shoes Say About Us

Ephesians 6:15, “As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace” (NIV).

I have been thinking about shoes all day long.  This is incredibly strange for someone who doesn’t even like shoes!

This passage about the armor of God is an interesting one for a variety of reasons.  Most of the pieces are defensive in nature (although not all), but the language of armor and battle and war does not lend itself well to discussions about peace… except when it does. 

And when it comes to our feet, the word is “whatever.” 

Whatever prepares you to proclaim the gospel of peace, in the midst of struggle… put it on your feet and move!  Because our shoes say an awful lot about where we have been, where we are going, and what we are willing to do.  And who we are, too…  Our shoes say a lot about who we are.

As I began to process all of this, many hours ago, a scene from a movie that I hadn’t seen in over twenty-five years came to mind.  I’m thirty-eight.  If you do the math, you’ll quickly realize that we’re talking about something that I saw when I was thirteen.  It is absurd that it stood out so vividly in my memory.  The movie was “Fried Green Tomatoes.”  As I scribbled a note to remember to look this up later, I immediately started to shorten it to an abbreviation and was completely disturbed when it came out FGT… like this blog… 

I viewed the film (which I cannot recommend… and I certainly cannot recommend for young teenagers) early this evening, because I wanted to make sure I was making appropriate connections.  There are a couple of horrifying scenes depicting the Ku Klux Klan (all scenes in all movies, books, media of any kind, and especially real life which depict such an atrocity are horrifying), and a main character asks why the participants in this violence do not have enough sense to change their shoes if they don’t want others to know who they are.  What a great question!

If the private places our feet travel are places of violence, hate, discrimination, and exclusivity; our shoes will identify us as inadequate vessels of the gospel of peace.  There is no hiding our character when the most exposed parts of our beings provide undeniable clues about who we really are.

Admittedly, I am a lousy example when it comes to footwear.  Y’all, I’ve been faithfully wearing my flip flops in sub-zero temperatures, in the snow, all week.  But I guess this proves the point.  Maybe the world will know us by our shoes… and where we’re willing to wear them.  What’s on your feet?

L.

Week 2: The Peace of Advent

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”
-Mother Teresa

As fear is replaced, peace follows hope—a second glimmer of light, reminding us that one flame is good, but two partnered together burn increasingly brighter, illuminating more than one could ever illumine alone.

Peace requires humility.

Psalm 72:4, “May he defend the afflicted among the people and save the children of the needy; may he crush the oppressor” (NIV).

At first glance, this passage of Scripture may sound more like the language of war than that of peace.  No one wants to be crushed… says the oppressor.  Yes.  Exactly.  I have good news: the solution is simple.  Do not be the oppressor, and no one will be crushed—by you, by the God to whom this Psalm appealed, by anyone.  When oppression ceases, true peace ensues.  If you happen to find yourself counted among the powerful, in the way the world defines power, this actually might not be the good news for which you were hoping.  Peace and power do not play well together.

Striving toward peace in the midst of oppression can look messy… can be messy.  Peace is hard to come by, and the temptation to separate and divide is nothing new.  The marginalized… the oppressed… they have always waited in eager expectation for the Messiah.  At advent, this narrative may best take the shape of shepherds—second (or third or fourth or last) class citizens by anyone’s standards leading up to the time of Christ, stereotypically labeled indiscriminately as sinners, exiled to the desert to perform their ‘worthless’ work, out of sight… out of mind… 

It’s not difficult to ignore the cries of the oppressed when they are so disgusting to us that they become less than human in our sight.  And yet, the very Messiah they anticipated came not only to liberate but to stand in solidarity.

“I’m a shepherd, too,” Jesus would one day proclaim, “and as it turns out, I’m a good one…” (John 10:11, paraphrase and interpretation mine). 

If anyone has ever had the ‘right’ to pull rank, it was Jesus, but instead the King of all of creation stoops down low enough to save the very least of all—to make the broken not only his priority but his very identity.  It sounds ugly, because it is.  Power is sexy.  Relinquishing power for the sake of people who don’t have it may be extraordinary, but it doesn’t come with any accolades.  I’d like to say this is beautiful, but it’s actually the kind of thing that leads to death.  And it’s not just about Jesus.  It’s about us, as well.

Because it’s just like God to do things this way.  God calls to God’s people, “Who will participate in the redemption of the world?  Who will join me in bringing the fulfillment of the covenant?”

This humility is the intersection of hope and peace, and if we legitimately want to see peace come to Earth, we have to be willing to relinquish our ‘right’ to be exalted as the chosen people, the ones who matter most, the rule makers and power wielders and… well… oppressors. 

Romans 15:5-9, 13 “May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God. For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the Jews on behalf of God’s truth, so that the promises made to the patriarchs might be confirmed and, moreover, that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy… May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (NIV).

That just about covers everybody.  As it turns out, it looks like Jesus knew how to belong to the people, and the people surely belonged to him.  May we all strive for that kind of equalization at advent, ushering peace into our lives and this world, thinking for more than just a moment about what it is to empower others by giving up our own privilege and comfort for the sake of the world.

We can bring war unilaterally, but peace is found in community.  It only takes one to break relationship, but it takes everyone involved to restore it.  Perhaps this should begin with those who hold legitimate power.

Do this.  Say yes.  If you want to be like Jesus, accept the fact that this means identifying with the oppressed.  Do not misunderstand or try to find a way around this.  Let’s stop pretending that token servanthood or sacrifices which cost us nothing are the same as solidarity.

Jesus was a shepherd.

Be a shepherd.

Jesus is peace.

Be peace.

Psalm 115:14-15, “May the Lord cause you to flourish, both you and your children.  May you be blessed by the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth” (NIV).

As God’s people, we should count the cost.  It’s not hard to find people who need peace.  Light one candle and then hold it out to someone whose candle also needs a burning flame.  It won’t even diminish your own light.  Decide that the cost of peace is worth it.

L.

*This is a recycled piece from last year, so the lectionary won't line up, but I think the reflections are still worthwhile.*

Eve of Epiphany

Christmas Time is about to come to an end, and with it our family Sacred Days.  The truth is, I feel a little bit sad.  I like these days when we close the door to our home and regroup.  I like the quiet.  I like the peace.  But doors are meant for opening.

Tonight, we will chalk the door.  If you're unfamiliar with this practice, that's OK.  I was, too, until this past week, but now that I know about it, I cannot imagine not doing it.  It just makes sense.  A description can be found, here. 

God, may you bless "our comings and goings, our conversations, our work and play, our joys and sorrows".  We need you to dwell deeply within us and around us.

Tomorrow morning, I will take some packed bags, get into the van, and reconnect with community.  Briefly.  Then Soul Care Days.  Then regularly scheduled life.  I hope I'm ready.  Here we go.

L.

Find the Common Denominator...

This is, undoubtedly, my favorite place in our house right now.  And it's not because I love conflict.  No, in fact, it is the exact opposite.  I love this place, because I love peace, and I think we would all do well to remember that, as human beings...  as people created Imago Dei... we have much more in common than we often admit.

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (Luke 2:14, NIV), "For God does not show favoritism" (Romans 2:11, NIV)... Hmmm...

L.