Strangers

Like many of you, I’ve kept tabs on the budget discussions taking place in Washington, and I experienced a mixture of frustration and disbelief as the process dragged on. How is it that NFL football players and team owners who have only their own best interests at heart can get a unanimous agreement on contracts, but our representatives, who in theory have the best interests of all citizens at heart, can’t agree on the time of day?

Part of the difficulty for me is I have very little knowledge of economics, especially at the national and global levels. So when seemingly pivotal statements are made about potential consequences of raising the debt limit or cutting the national deficit, I don’t know who to believe. “Raising the debt limit is crucial.” Yes,  it is. If we don’t, the world economy will collapse. No, it isn’t. We need to quit borrowing money. “The national budget is just like your household budget.” You’re right. We can’t spend more than we make. You’re wrong. National and family economics differ greatly. They can’t be treated the same. “We have to cut the size of government. We’re spending money we don’t have.” True. All these entitlement and education programs are unnecessary, and we can’t afford them. False. Government services are essential, and we need to prioritize, not lay waste to all of them. The money is there if everyone pays a fair share.  Like the kid says in the commercial when he’s asked, “Where do babies come from?” he replies, “It’s complicated.”

Recently we studied 1 Peter in the Fellowship Class at church. The lesson had to do with how believers are to conduct themselves in the middle of a culture that is non-Christian. From Peter’s perspective the followers of Jesus are “strangers in the world” who are “scattered” (1 Peter 1:1). They are different from the people around them because God, by grace, has given them “a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1:3). How are we supposed to conduct ourselves in the world? Peter says we are to model ourselves after the Risen Lord, living “good lives among the pagans” (2:12).

In light of Peter’s teaching, two things come to mind with regard to the current political crisis (and others that will undoubtedly follow). Because we’re still “in the world,” we participate to a greater or lesser degree in governmental processes and the discussions around them.  And those discussions today, for the most part, lack civility. Listening  to political diatribe and news/talk show rhetoric, one can hear people on each side twisting the facts and then referring to those on the opposite side as radicals, crazy, communists, Nazis, idiots, and every other term that paints them as “other” instead of as “one of us.” Liberal and Conservative have become curse words. The language is meant to exclude, not embrace. The underlying premise seems to be that if all these people who disagree with me would just go away, the country would be a better place. The idea that we are “one nation under God” has gotten swept aside. Peter’s advice? Believers, in their words and actions, must model something different, something better. “Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called, so that you may inherit a blessing” (3:8-9).

The second issue is concerned with priorities. We recognize that priorities are difficult to sort out, even in the church family. Should we use our resources to put a new roof on the building, support another missionary, hire a staff person, begin an outreach program – some, or all, or none of the above? So when it comes to national priorities, it isn’t surprising that things become even more complicated. The boy in the commercial who wonders where babies come from doesn’t know what complicated is. But as Peter continues in chapter 3,

“Whoever would love life and see good days

must keep his tongue from evil and his lips from deceitful speech.

He must turn from evil and do good; he must seek peace and pursue it.

For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer,

but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil” (3:10-12)

When it comes to setting priorities, shouldn’t we be asking ourselves as Christians what it means to turn from evil and do good?  As a nation we aren’t without resources; it is a matter of how we use them and who contributes to the common good. Where do we wage war, and why? Do we cut off public education to those who can’t afford private schools? Do we continue to use our “defense” budget to support 3^rd world dictators who have no allegiance to us? Should our military power be employed to insure the flow of oil from the Middle East? Do we refuse food and medical care to the poor? I’m not suggesting that the answers to these questions are all easy , but it is contingent on us, as “aliens and strangers,” to struggle with what it means to “turn from evil and do good,” to “seek peace and pursue it” in the midst of an unsympathetic culture; indeed, to let ourselves be defined not by our enemies, but by scripture— as persons who are born anew into a living hope, focused not on fear, as so many politicians want us to be, but focused on the new and eternal life God has promised us through our Resurrected Savior.

In His name,

Pastor Mike

Who We Become

    In The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis’ final book in The Chronicles of Narnia, the Narnians loyal to Aslan the Lion meet the Calormene enemy on Stable Hill. Outwardly the stable is a dingy, smelly, ramshackle building that is believed to house the evil god Tash. And even though they worship him, the Calmorenes are terrified of Tash. They’re determined to throw the Narnians into the stable without entering themselves. But when the Narnian king Tirian finds himself at sword-point outside the stable door he grabs his opponent, the Calmorene king, by the belt and hauls him into the stable. Tash appears and drags Tirian’s enemy away, but Tirian is unharmed, protected by Aslan himself.
“For a moment or two Tirian did not know where he was or even who he was. Then he steadied himself, blinked, and looked around. It was not dark inside the stable, as he had expected. He was in strong light…” He found himself surrounded by seven kings and seven queens, dressed in royal clothing.  He expected to be in a twelve-by-six foot thatched stable. “In reality they stood on grass, the deep blue sky was overhead, and the air which blew gently on their faces was that of a day in early summer.”1
    The stable, appearing to be a tomb, is in fact the entryway to the eternal Narnia. And the tomb of Jesus, appearing to be a sanctuary of death, is in fact the empty place that helps prepare us for eternal life. In the tomb Jesus overcomes the grip of death, and everything changes.
When Mary sees Jesus, she mistakes him for the gardener. He is the same, but different. His appearance has changed, and he walks through locked doors. His friends don’t recognize him right away. And as Sarah Dylan Breuer points out, when we receive resurrection life, for the first time or on a deeper level, things change.
    Our relationships, our understanding of power, our vision, our heart, and our sense of what is possible change.
    Jesus, raised from death, now calls his followers sisters and brothers. We are bonded to unlikely strangers in Christian fellowship, receiving even our enemies, and use the same terms—brother and sister—to describe them.  Our understanding of power is transformed when the risen Lord continues to serve his disciples and us. He doesn’t address us with judgment, but with love and forgiveness. With our new vision we begin to see Christ in the most unlikely places – in a child’s eyes, an enemy’s heart, a suffering friend, and in opportunities to be peacemakers in a broken, unjust world.
With Christ’s resurrection comes a change of heart. Forgiveness becomes possible in the most trying settings. Compassion and sensitivity are lived out unexpectedly. We experience grace. And what is possible changes. In God’s economy Egypt’s slaves became a new nation, and Christ’s disciples became a church. “What seemed to be certain death became a call to new life, as the scattered Hebrew slaves became a people, God's people. In Judea, some looked at Jesus' cross and saw death; some looked at the empty tomb and anticipated death for themselves, as Roman law decreed death to grave robbers. But what looks like death is an opening for new life.”2
Easter proclaims not just the resurrection of Jesus, but of all who believe. We are transformed  to new life, and as Breuer says, we “find ourselves sent forth to be known and make Jesus known in the breaking of the bread, the healing of the sick, the loving of the unlovable, the reconciliation of each of us to one another and to God in Christ.”3
    Our Easter prayer is that we be changed. Or in the words of Walter Brueggemann,

God of Exodus and Easter, God of homecoming and forgiveness,
       God of fierceness and peaceableness,
         we are finally driven to your miracles.
This day hear our urgency and do among us what none of us can do.
Do your Friday-Sunday act yet again and make us new.
We pray out of the shattering death and the shimmering new life of Jesus,
whose name we bear. Amen.

Pastor Mike

 

1  Lewis, C.S. The Last Battle. MacMillan, 1956, pp. 137ff.
2    Breuer, Sarah Dylan. Dylan’s Lectionary Blog.  http://www.sarahlaughed.net/lectionary/2005/03/easter_day_prin.html
3    Ibid
4    Brueggemann, Walter. “While the World says, Not Possible. Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth. Fortress Press, 2003, p. 121-122

How We Talk

I’ve been caught up in the news lately. It would be hard not to. National budget debates, tornadoes in the South, bin Laden’s death – I was just too overwhelmed to tune in to the big British wedding. But I confess that as a pastor I’m constantly trying to make Christian sense out of what goes on in the world, and trying to understand how I as a believer in Christ should put events in perspective, both for myself and for the congregation. As a faithful Baptist I don’t presume to think members of the congregation require my input, but if it’s helpful, that’s fine too.

Much of the news recently has revolved around national issues. I suppose it does in every country; were we living in Pretoria I don’t imagine Wisconsin politics or the destruction of Tuscaloosa would get much air play. But they do here, along with budget cuts, tax policies, and expense priorities. The latter issues have taken center stage since the last national election, and the size of the deficit caused one member of the congregation to express doubts about the financial viability of the country in two years, regardless of what Washington does. That may be correct; not being a financial whiz I have no idea what the implications are of going broke as a nation. Do we get repossessed, or what?

My concern for the country is partly financial, but it goes deeper than that. Because of an inability to communicate constructively with each other, we run the greater risk of civil dissolution. Many families are broke, but they remain families. Divorce is harder to recover from, and in many ways we seem headed in that direction. Even members of the Christian family, who of all people should be most suspicious of divisive communication, seem content to sever relationships by the way they converse. That isn’t the ideal. As Paul reminds us in Romans, “For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others” (Romans 12:4-5). We’re to sever ties over – nothing.

Maintaining unity demands a certain approach to the way we talk with each other. And frequently our talk doesn’t get derailed over things like the exact date of the Second Coming. It flounders on which news station we watch or who we voted for in the last election. We tend to take two approaches to those matters. One is to avoid them all together. The other is to become adamant about our political persuasion. When we do the first, we’re left with a relationship that seems nice on the surface, but we know it can never intimate and fully trusting. When we do the second we push our Christian brothers and sisters aside. Animosity trumps fellowship.

Miroslav Volf points out that exclusion comes in two basic forms. It can entail moving oneself from interdependence to sovereign independence. “The other then emerges either as an enemy that must be pushed away from the self and driven out of its space or as a nonentity – a superfluous being – that can be disregarded and abandoned.” Or it can mean treating the other as someone who is not entitled to interdependence: “The other then emerges as an inferior being who must either be assimilated by being made like the self or be subjugated to the self”[1] Our treatment of others, including or excluding, is largely accomplished by how we speak.

One way out of the dilemma is to take our conversations seriously, knowing we can talk about anything if we do so in appropriate ways. Inappropriate ways invite exclusion. Appropriate ways invite the conversation to continue in a civil and loving manner. We might ask, “Does the way I respond in a difficult conversation invite a stronger relationship or a weaker one? Does it express a desire to learn more, or to be right?” James offers this: “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires” (James 1:19-20).

Too often our models for discussion come from those who have questionable gifts: intractable opinions, the capacity to speak loudly and at length, and access to the broadcast media. And too often they hold our attention by fear-mongering, taking advantage of our anxieties and concerns about the future. Jesus invites us along a different path. It is to recognize that anxiety about the world isn’t going to go away. In the face of it we’re simply asked to respond with love and forgiveness, putting our trust and faith in God. Maybe “simply” is a misleading word. I often find it difficult not to panic in the face of health concerns, financial problems, the need for TSA to check and recheck me and my baggage before every flight … all the “what-if’s” that my fellow citizens can conjure up. Fear-mongers constantly solicit our support, and when we fail to give it, we are the ones who they subject to exclusion.

But in reality the way we respond to fear, or hatred, or the demonizing of others reflects our allegiance to the Gospel. Paul told his followers, “(My commitment to the Gospel) is why I am suffering as I am. Yet this is no cause for shame, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day” (2 Timothy 1:12). We come to our conversations about every subject – benign or disruptive – with a choice to make: taking stands on issues that are short-lived, or being “convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” What we say and the way we say it reveals which way we have chosen.

---

[1] Volf, Miroslav. Exclusion and Embrace. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996, p. 67.

Difficult Issues in Community

We live in an age when the idea of mutual responsibility is at times freely accepted; the generous outpouring of aid to Haiti is an example. At other times it is suspect, or rejected outright. The national mood is schizoid. We are guided one moment by overwhelming sympathy and the next by fear or overpowering self-interest. Vivid pictures of collapsed homes and orphaned children maximize compassion. We are much less empathetic when we think the “undeserving poor” are taking advantage of us financially.

And so. And so we find ourselves on highly emotional ground when it comes to issues like the war in Afghanistan, taxes, gay and lesbian relationships, health care, and immigration. Discussion becomes difficult and solutions seem hard to come by. And when difficult issues arise, we have all the more reason to talk about them from a faith perspective.

A recent letter from Dr. Roy Medley, General Secretary, ABC-USA, notes that numerous Protestant church leaders, both mainline and evangelical, are deeply concerned about immigration and immigration reform and have talked together at length. He extends an invitation to American Baptists to continue the dialogue.1

Dr. Medley reminds us that in American Baptist congregations, let alone the broader Christian community, there are different perspectives on this subject. None of us can claim superior understanding of the issue or what the Gospel demands of us.

“We aren’t all of one mind on every aspect of immigration reform. We know it must consider such widespread concerns as national security, appropriate means of border control, and the impact on our economic and social welfare systems. At the same time there is broad agreement among Protestant leaders (including those represented in the National Association of Evangelicals, the National Council of Churches, Sojourners and Church World Service) that immigration reform in our country must reflect mercy and justice rooted in God’s love.” To engage in this conversation, we’re encouraged to frame the discussion intentionally and structure it carefully.

A faith framework is critical. It should be based on the scriptures in light of God’s revelation in Christ Jesus. As Dr. Medley’s letter points out, the Old Testament is replete with concern for the alien and the stranger: “The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God” (Leviticus 19:34).

Then there is the prophetic voice. Micah 6:8 says, “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)

Medley writes, “In the New Testament, the greeting of Christ, “Fear not,” (Matt 10:31, Luke 12:32, John 14:27b) is a powerful antidote to the fear that so often marks conversations such as this. Likewise the story of the Good Samaritan and Jesus’ description of the final judgment are critical to our perspective:

“And when did we see thee a stranger and welcome thee, or naked and clothe thee? And when did we see thee sick or in prison and visit thee?' And the King will answer them, `Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.' (Matt 25:38-40)

Structure is also important. A discussion guide from the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America points out,

“In a conversation of this kind, listening is as important as talking. Genuine listening is not a passive activity, but an active, demanding one. Listen not only for the content of what is said, but for the way it is said – such as the language used, the tone of voice, the kind and level of feeling expressed, the body language and facial expression of the person speaking … and so on. Also be attentive for what is not said. Being more conscious about this kind of deep listening will help us to hear and understand better what other people are saying.” 2

It would surprise me if each of us weren’t encouraged, in one way or another, to talk about a difficult issue – perhaps even immigration reform – during the coming weeks. I invite you to take part in such a discussion as a believer in Christ, knowing that you bring a unique, caring, Biblical perspective to the conversation, whether it be in the church or in the world.

Pastor Mike
1 Medley, Roy A. Letter Addressing Immigration and Immigration Reform. American Baptist Churches USA, May 14, 2010
2 Bloomquist, Karen L. Talking Together as Christians. Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, 1999.

What About the Girl?

Luke tells a fast-paced story in Acts 16. It involves Paul, Silas, and the narrator, Luke himself. It takes place in Philippi, inland from the northwest shore of the Aegean Sea, where the Apostle and his companions were followed “for many days” by a slave girl who kept crying out, “These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation."

Paul finally became exasperated, cast out the “spirit of divination,” got mobbed by the city merchants, and along with Silas was tossed in jail for disrupting the peace and the local economy. The story goes on to tell about the earthquake that broke their chains, the conversion of the Philippian jailer, and the resumption of Paul’s missionary journey.

A question that lingers is, “What about the girl?” She was cured of her enslavement to a spirit of some kind, and since she no longer had the gift of divination she was probably dumped by her owners. No more profit possible. Paul seemed consumed with his larger mission. Did the girl get left in the dust?

One of the drawbacks of ministry is that some of the most marginalized people can be bypassed as we seek to do God’s greater work. Put together an impressive worship service. Accomplish a mission project.

Karen Huey, in a meditation on this passage, says that although Paul might have acted out of compassion for the girl, the text plainly says that he was "very much annoyed"; this exorcism is almost impulsive. Paul was tired of being heckled by the girl and the spirit that possessed her. He was focused on doing what he came to do, and healing slave-girls doesn't appear to have been on his agenda. [1] Did he choose the greater good at the expense of a few?

Philippi isn’t the only place this has happened. Public programs instituted for the “greater good” have often intruded on the lives of individuals. The military is infamous for its euphemisms; “collateral damage” is one that describes the supposedly unavoidable killing of civilians in the course of winning a battle. And it happens in church. We can get pretty task oriented about our mission and risk leaving some in our church family behind.

If we ask, “What about the girl?” it leads us to more questions. One is, “What about me? What am I still enslaved to in my daily life?” Ronald Cole-Turner reflects on this and asks, in the words of the repentant jailer: "What must I do to be saved from what destroys me? What must I do to be saved from my particular bondage, my oppressive addiction, emptiness, or boredom? There are countless ways to lose our way in this world or to be in bondage, just as there are many different threats from which we need to be saved." [2]

The answer begins with our willingness to pose the question in the first place. Are you willing to keep asking what it takes to be saved? Unless we ask, it’s unlikely that the freeing work of God will become available to us.

Another question is, “What do we do with our slave girls?” Or more to the point, what do we in the church do with the people who feel they are good, faithful Christians, who attend worship, serve in some capacity, but feel like something is missing.? Or with those outside the church who feel enslaved, but won’t come in?

Reggie McNeal, author of the book The Present Future, describes the first group: “The faithful, maybe silently or not so silently, wonder when their ticket is going to be punched, when they are going to experience the changed life they’ve been promised and expected to experience at church. In North America, people have been led to believe that (the) Christian life is all about church.” He says that when the church fails them, this “not only creates doubt about the church, it also leads them to all kinds of doubt about God.”

There are people like this in every congregation, ours included—who aren’t experiencing the spiritual transformation for which they hoped. As one Christian writer said, “They came to us seeking God, and we gave them church instead.” [3]

So what do we do with those who don’t see church as the answer? We reach out. Waiting for people to come in the door doesn’t work. As a friend recently reminded me, “What makes you think anybody on the outside wants to come in your church? They don’t. Get over it.”
Besides, the end goal isn’t the survival of the church building. It takes an extra step to look at our community and identify the needs that exist – for redemption, forgiveness, physical needs and spiritual wholeness. In the face of those needs we don’t offer church. We offer the good news of salvation in Christ Jesus. We don’t offer church. We offer God. One on one.

Pastor Mike

1 Huey, Karen, Weekly Seeds, May 7, 2010
2 Ibid
3 Watson, Suzanne, Sixth Sunday of Easter

Retreat

The Together in Ministry format is enhanced by a retreat experience. Ours was held at a local Benedictine monastery earlier this week, guided by a Catholic sister who led us through a time of introspection and silence. She encouraged us to go to a deeper level of intimacy with each other and with God. Her guiding thought was that Christ dwells in the heart, and that it takes focus to get in touch with what the heart has to say.

Here are some of the challenges I encounter when I try to find that focus. If you're a group leader or facilitator, especially for a religious group, you might be able to connect with them.

• I identify with Siler's comment: "Few professions are so tempted as the pastorate is by excessive attention, from adulation to censure, plus all the responses in between. The applause is as lethal as the criticism, maybe more so. How quickly we can become full of ourselves. Like all public leaders focused on outward presentation, we run the increased risk of an impoverished inner life." [1] While an inward focus calls me to step back from public evaluation, it isn't that easy. The voices of congregation, friends and family play a looping tape in my head. Filtering out the applause and the criticism in order to hear God speak takes work.

• Intimate moments in a group can be difficult to attend to. For me there is a temptation to back away from revealing deeper emotions or hearing those of others. Group members, myself included, will often look for safety in humorous remarks or self-effacing comments. Maybe that's why having a capable facilitator is a good thing. He or she can restore my attention to what matters.

• The same challenge comes when I try to "hear the intimate voice of the heart." My mind wants to go to the things I have done before, the things I "have" to do today, tomorrow, next week - anywhere to get out of hearing what God has to say within.

• Another distraction is the temptation to force the experience of introspection into a psychological frame. Freud and his followers have had a marked impact on how I view the world. Making a transition from that perspective to one of faith is an ongoing challenge. From a psychological perspective I try to explain away the validity of listening for God's voice. "It's your (subconscious) (imagination) - you fill in the blank. I'm also a child of my information-age culture. Surely there are immediate explanations for everything! Faith perspective is seen through the lens of what is hoped for, but is often inexplicable. I so want everything to be explained right away.

• Finally, there is the difficulty of sorting out my true identity: Who am I in Christ? Siler goes on to say, "The soul question is one of identity:Who am I, really? Am I my egoic (sic) thoughts and feelings? Am I my ministry? Am I more than my thoughts and feelings? Do I have deeper wisdom? [2] I really have to work in order to identify who and what defines me. Who and what determines my words, actions, and thoughts. The greatest pressure comes in not letting the people I truly care about - their needs and emotions - dictate who I am. God's voice is easily drowned out. I hear it with great difficulty. Maybe it's that way for you.

[1] Siler, Mahan. Anam Cara: Collegial Clergy Communities. Raleigh, North Carolina: Publications Unltd, 2008, p. 24.
[2] Ibid

TIM

Over a year ago I joined a "Together in Ministry" group. Six pastors and a facilitator received support from the American Baptist Churches USA and the Lilly Foundation. I continue to be interested in what keeps the group going. I think part of it is a mutual need for support.

"Together in Ministry" groups were initiated by our denomination four or five years ago due to concerns about ministerial isolation and ineffectiveness. A 2005 study by the United Church of Canada concluded "that, at any given time, most ministry personnel feel satisfied and well-supported in their role. They also likely see their call to ministry as an integral part of their identity. The glass would appear more than two-thirds full. Nevertheless, the results also suggest that many ministry personnel feel overwhelmed with their work and have little time to reflect on their ministerial role. A large number of ministry personnel have trouble finding people they can trust and confide in, and feel powerless to influence change within the United Church. From this perspective, the glass seems half empty. What likely keeps the glass 'topped up' forr many ministers is a commitment to their call, the choice to focus their energy on their pastoral charges, and individual abilities to cope with the role." [1]

For me the glass stays "topped up" for the above reasons, but also because I've found a peer support system. One of the guides for developing Together in Ministry groups has been a book by Mahan Siler called Anam Cara [2] In it Siler defines "Anam Cara," or "soul friend, as "a network of small collegial circles ... who meet regularly to offer mutual support, collaboration, and accountability in their practices of theological reflection, leadership and Spirit awareness." [3] Siler makes a distinction between isolation and "aloneness." He says isolation comes with the pastoral territory, but aloneness can be overcome.

• Support has to do with a mutual commitment to growth as a person and a minister
• Collaboration entails accessing the wisdom of colleagues
• Accountability is the glue of the group. It calls for an honest and gracious review of our commitment to each other.

In our Together in Ministry group, this seems to work.

[1] The Warren Sheppel Research Group: "Study of Isolation in Ministry for the United Church of Canada," 2005.

[2] Siler, Mahan. Anam Cara: Collegial Clergy Communities. Raleigh, North Carolina: Publications Unltd, 2008.

[3] Ibid, p. 9

Connections

Some years ago James Ashbrook wrote a book that explored community.[1] The book was presented in a way that would visually challenge even the most focused reader. (A first impression suggests a typesetter doused in LSD.) But it was also, I believe, a different way of looking at what it means to be together in the world. Ashbrook wrote in the midst of radically changing values - what he saw as:

• a move to being and becoming, instead of merely doing,
• immediacy, instead of the past or the future,
• other-directedness, versus inner-directedness.
• a prizing of some kinds of tolerance and diversity and
• a "drift toward an equalization of the roles of men and women." (16)

Whether his impressions about values were accurate or not, he correctly anticipated a new social reality: "Nothing stays put. Everything swings." And in the midst of that he asks, "How are connections re-established?"

For Ashbrook being connected depends on self-disclosure, which he more or less links to a holy "in-spiriting," Pentecost-like drive from within that lets others know where we are, what matters, what we intend and want. "When in-spiriting awakens humanizing and establishes communications, we do not stop with simply getting through. Invariably, we continue being together. We are joined to communing community. That is, we find ourselves in a pattern of relationships that support, strengthen, challenge, chasten, restore." (52) Ashbrook and those like him helped set the stage for what are now called Together in Ministry groups.

[1] Ashbrook, James B. Be/Come Community. Valley Forge: Judson Press, 1971.

Speaking of Groups...

My first experience with small group dynamics was in seminary (yeah, a long time ago) when as part of the psychology curriculum, the class was expected to participate in an "encounter group." There were about 15 of us involved. As I think back the intent of this exercise, which took part over the better part of a weekend, was to break down the barriers that existed between participants, encourage us to open up to each other, and allow us to get to the real heart of who we were.

It was, from my standpoint, pretty much a disaster. Sleep wasn't part of the agenda, and tired people are likely to say just about anything. As the process wore on the group members became increasingly insistent that each person reveal his or her private self. The more exhausted we became the more freely we shared personal sins, weaknesses, misgivings, and animosities, and many of the latter were directed at other members of the group. While there may have been an attempt to debrief the experience at its close, I have no memory of it. I only know that I promised myself I would never go through anything like that again.

But the best intentions pave the way to, well, you know. In my first church call I thought it would be a great idea to form a small, intimate group of young adults. We would study the Bible, read a book or two together, keep confidentiality, and speak from the heart. The group was a great success - initially. We had much in common: young children, the tension of being in a church made up largely of older people, parental interference. We became, as you would say, tight. Then in the early part of the third year of the group's existence my wife and I went on vacation and two of the other couples in the group went camping. They found it expedient to switch partners, resulting in two divorces, one remarriage, and the suspicion on the part of some church leaders that I had engineered the whole thing.

Not a bad conclusion, actually, considering that one of the divorcees was the daughter of the church moderator.

I share this experience because group identity is important. Who we perceive ourselves to be, as congregations, Together in Ministry Groups, Communities of Practice, or Pool Players Anonymous, impacts not just the group members themselves but also the wider Christian Community. As I said earlier, defining group identity is a critical matter. And it isn't that easy.

Defining Ourselves

I'm a pastor, and how we define ourselves is a question I struggle with. By "ourselves" I mean the groups of which we are a part. For me those groups are pretty much church-centered. And frankly, my membership in them tends to be dictated by my job description.

I’m fairly introverted; my idea of relaxation isn’t to join another group. So most of my joint ventures come with the pastoral territory. For me there’s a central group, our congregation, with all of its sub-clusters: ministry teams, leadership groups, task teams – we can find more ways to sort 350 people than you can imagine. Youth, adults, shut-ins, musicians, teachers, children - the list is endless.

The congregation connects with a number of other groups: in the community (local mission efforts, a downtown pastor’s group), our American Baptist “region” that’s made up of churches from Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico and (I think) part of Utah, and national and international mission efforts. It’s a web of relationships.

I do have some personal interests outside the church. I have a family. I belong to an Institutional Review Board at the local hospital that's responsible for tracking research protocols. In past lives I was a member of a national association of police chaplains and belonged to a watercolor society. I also do some scuba diving once in awhile, but that isn’t really a group thing. That’s vacation.

Another core group I belong to is the executive committee for our regional Ministers Council. I've tried to convince the powers that be to make "Ministers" possessive, but they'll have none of it. It's with this group that the issue of "defining ourselves" arises.

The Ministers Council is a voluntary group of pastoral leaders that is partly about fellowship - encouraging one another in our personal and communal spiritual lives, and partly about skill development. A recent workshop sponsored by the Lilly Foundation was held in Denver recently to enhance both of those focal points, and it challenged my thinking about group identity. The workshop was entitled Communities of Practice. It was led by Dr. Joe Kutter, Acting Director of the American Baptist Ministers Council. The assumption behind the workshop is that knowledge, and therefore learning, is a social process best discovered, shared, learned and applied in community.

It draws on the works of Etienne Wenger, and Cultivating Communities of Practice - A Guide to Managing Knowledge (Wenger, E., McDermott, R. and Snyder, W., Boston: Harvard Business School Press, 2002) was the textbook for the workshop. The academic forerunner for this book, Communities of Practice - Learning, Meaning, and Identity (Wenger, E., New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998) was published earlier as part of the Learning in Doing-Social, Cognitive, and Computational Perspectives series. Wenger takes a social constructionist approach which says in effect that social reality is constructed in relationships. His focus is also on business models, so it takes some translating to move his thoughts into the religious arena.

A precursor to Communities of Practice is the Together in Ministry group approach, also fostered by the Lilly Foundation. Together in Ministry lays a foundation for groups that focuses on relationships and trust-building. Communities of Practice takes Together in Ministry a step further, encouraging participants to come together to share expertise as well as common interests. Over the course of the Denver workshop a group of 14 pastor-types, me included, narrowed its common interest to two areas: self-care and reaching out to the community. Those seemed to be the topics that captured the needs not only of the workshop participants, but also defined what we thought were the concerns of our colleagues in ministry in the region.

We were encouraged to focus on those two themes in the days ahead, building a "community of practice" that would allow us to share knowledge and expertise with each other and the broader family of church leaders. During a subsequent meeting I found that defining our group identity was a critical step in the process. And it isn't that easy.

God, the Tightening Hope

I confess to reading, over Christmas vacation, before bed and after playing with assorted grandchildren, a couple of Harry Potter books. I know. I’m terribly late to the party. Harry has been around for quite awhile, maturing in print and on the screen with all his secret wizardly gifts.

I came away from J.K Rowling’s fictional world with a couple of thoughts. One was the nagging question of what it would be like to hide under a disappearing cloak, discharge sparks from a wand, or go back in time. But that’s what happens with a story. It drags you in and carries you along, regardless of how unrealistic it may seem from the outset.

Another thing was this: Harry wore me out. During the summer his world was filled with oppressive guardians, and during the school term with spells, confrontations, sleepless nights, cantankerous spirits, and certain classmates and teachers bent on disgracing him. Then there was the ongoing challenge he faced of sorting out which aquantances were good and which were not. First appearances weren’t always correct. So for Harry it was one trial after another, seemingly 24/7. Wizards, I thought, must be inexhaustible. Harry was ADD on Starbucks.

As non-wizardly humans we risk not so much being worn out as worn down. The evening news alone is enough to lead one into despair. What if Iran gets the bomb? What if the terrorists sneak through? What if the economy continues to crumble, the Democrats (or Republicans) remain in office, the globe warms, the DaVinci Code is true, or planets collide?

Christians aren’t immune to anxiety and despair. The things that mislead us most frequently are poverty-stricken interpretations of scripture, the ones suggesting that God makes certain promises and then fails to follow through. As one author points out, “The prosperity gospel, which promises that material prosperity will come to the faithful, may have contributed to the economic crisis. Sermons on the hope of divine blessing have encouraged people to take financial risks, like signing on to subprime mortgages and tapping out their credit cards. In some instances, banks preyed on poor people through the church: pastors invited loan officers to speak at wealth-building seminars, and in exchange the banks would give $350 to the church for each mortgage taken out.”[1]

My personal hunch is that the pastors who encouraged these investments got a cut. They aren’t hurting with their own mortgages now. Personal financial prosperity? Scriptural assurance goes in a different direction: “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.” (Romans 5:1-2)

God’s promises have little to do with personal wealth and a lot to do with relationships - first, with our relationship with the Lord, and second, our relationships with one another. To be at peace with God is the overwhelming promise, and the certain assurance, of the Gospel. In the meantime we are called to confront the desire to take advantage of others, financially or otherwise. When it comes to both greed and despair, God is agin 'em. Or as John Shea puts it in the poem "A Prayer to the God Who Will Not Go Away,"

Lord,
you are the poetry of wordless lives,
the salting of tasteless purposes,
the reminder that we are more than
the sinking spiral of the dying sparrow …
you are the tightening hope
that someone has stretched a net
beneath this high wire act of ours.[2]

[1] Hanna Rosin, cited in “Mixed Blessings,” The Christian Century, January 12, 2010, p. 8.
[2] Shea, John, The Hour of the Unexpected, 1992, p. 57.

A Baptist's View of Baptism

The business of baptism confused me for awhile. Apart from my own baptism at age 12, I first began thinking about what Baptists call this “ordinance” as a biblical teaching during seminary. One day a pastor – I can’t recall his name – came around promoting his book. It argued that Baptists were the Christians who were truest to scripture because they were spiritually descendants of John the Baptist. That seemed like quite a jump to me, but I didn’t have the energy to refute his thinking.

In the liturgical calendar we recall the baptism of Jesus at this time of the year. Luke tells us about it: “The people were waiting expectantly and were all wondering in their hearts if John might possibly be the Christ. John answered them all, ‘I baptize you with water. But one more powerful than I will come, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.’

“When all the people were being baptized, Jesus was baptized too. And as he was praying, heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." (Luke 3:15-18, 21-22)

John demanded repentance. He warned his listeners that the axe was already at the foot of the trees, and that every tree not producing good fruit would be cut down and thrown into the fire. Then Jesus came to be baptized, but he had a different take on repentance. And here’s where I think we sometimes miss the point. We get stuck on the part about repentance, which is important, but we overlook the kind of baptism Jesus calls us to experience. Our inclination is to dwell on past sins, repeatedly praying for God’s forgiveness. We don’t want to get tossed in the fire, and we are convinced that the unrepentant are headed in that direction. We suppose that by some public act of contrition, namely baptism by immersion, we can persuade God to let us off the hook.

Jesus insists on repentance, but his focus is different. He connects it with belief in the reality of who God is. "The time has come," he said. "The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news!" (Mark 1:15) Repentance is a turning away from one thing toward something else. Jesus demands that we turn away from our belief that God is not loving, that God is “only too ready to cast us into the fires of hell given half an excuse,”[1] and begin living as recipients of forgiveness. “Getting baptized” doesn’t persuade God of anything. That would be salvation by works, not by grace.

For Jesus repentance is no longer maintaining a checklist of wrongs (committed by us, or by others whom we like to keep close tabs on). It’s an affirmation of God’s love for us.

For Jesus the event at the Jordan is a debutante ball, a coming out party, when his true identity is revealed. The words, "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased," echo Isaiah’s: “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight…” (Isa 42:1) That association defines Jesus not as a punishing judgmental deity, but as the servant who is despised, rejected, crucified, and cut off from the land of the living.

And God affirms his love for him with a sign of peace, the dove. Just like in Noah’s day the dove announces that despite suffering and hardship, everything will be put right in the end. God will wipe the tears away and conquer death. Or as Julian of Norwich put it, “And all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

At his baptism, Jesus is immersed – in the fire of suffering love. That’s what the Holy Spirit bestows. It’s the awareness that as God’s people, we are baptized in the same way. Like Jesus, we are sent out into a hostile world armed with the passion of God’s love and forgiveness. At times it costs us. But underlying the expense are the words that are inscribed on our hearts: “You are my child, my beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And resting in that belief, "all manner of things shall be well."

[1] “Fire and Water,” http://www.laughingbird.net

Lectio Divina (Sacred Reading)

One of our church school classes has considered the story of Jesus’ conversation with the lawyer in Luke 10 for the past several weeks. The passage centers on the matter of neighborliness. We’ve approached it from the perspective of lectio divina, sacred reading, an outgrowth of St. Benedict’s rule. While all four steps of lectio encourage prayer, the final one, contemplation, places a stronger emphasis on it, and has challenged us with the question, “How does this passage open me to a closer relationship with God?” I have a mental image of medieval monks crouched in their hovels asking the same question.

The earlier steps of lectio posed other inquiries: what is the author really saying, how is our understanding of a passage deepened by knowing about the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, and how does all this prompt a change in my morality? We spent a full class session on each, sailing right along. But the fourth step proves harder, because it wants us to think in relational terms.

One approach is to look at this “story within a story” and wonder, “With whom do I identify?” Is it Jesus, the lawyer, the disciples? Or in the parable Jesus relates, is it the priest, the Levite, the Samaritan – or the crime victim?

One thing stands out. In this conversation, the lawyer presses Jesus to define who his neighbor is, and Jesus isn’t having any. “The Story of the Good Samaritan” is a response to the query, “And who is my neighbor?” But Jesus flips it around. He doesn’t respond to that line of thinking. Instead he tells the story, and then asks, "Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" (Luke 10:36 NIV) When the lawyer says “The one who showed mercy,” Jesus tells him to go and do likewise. What began with the lawyer wanting a recipe for judging others is transformed. Instead of being given the rules to determine who his neighbor is, he’s told to go be one.

So coming back to the lectio, what happens if I really identify with the Samaritan? Or more realistically with the lawyer, who reflects my often self-centered approach to God and others? And how does addressing the issue bring me into a deeper relationship with the Lord? Perhaps it lies in the awareness that just thinking about it isn’t enough. The way I deal with others mirrors my relationship with God. The desire to sort people out and categorize them as deserving or undeserving isn’t kingdom living, while the commitment to show mercy is.

I can evade the issue by pointing out that my "inheritance of eternal life" is found in faith in Christ crucified, not my moral behavior. But I suspect Jesus doesn't want to let it go that easily. He encourages me to see that my present actions intersect with my ability to truly participate in the Kingdom. Well, that should provide something for both me and the class to ponder this week.

Honoring the Body

After the stock market dumped, David Letterman frequently introduced his nightly talk show by asking the audience, “How’s it goin’? Got any money? Of course not! Nobody has any money!”

A broader question might be, “How are you keeping up with the world these days?” The reality we live with is that change comes at us quickly. We want to live in a world where change can be controlled and is predictable – thus "Change!" - the new mantra of the Democrat party.

But some things, like technology, change so quickly we can hardly keep up. I recently joined “Facebook” and after three days felt inundated with messages on my “Wall.” I asked a friend, “How do I get rid of all this stuff people are posting?” He replied, “You don’t. That’s the point!” I’m a bit slow – I have trouble staying in step with my own computer. And who could have anticipated such a rapid transformation in the economic situation? As one investor put it, “We fell off a cliff.”

How to cope? How to live as a Christian in a rapidly changing environment? Dorothy Bass, author of a series on Christian Practices, writes, “The changes that are sweeping the world unsettle life at its most basic levels…”(1) She goes on to say that Christian practices address fundamental needs through concrete actions.

They draw on traditions that are Biblically based, and they’re meant to help us strengthen the ways in which we live. Earlier this year we began a monthly Saturday study group in our church focusing on these practices. We started these sessions with encouragement by the Lilly Foundation as part of Together in Ministry, an initiative intended to foster connections between clergy and laity. As a beginning point we asked what it means to have a passionate spirituality, and how we can put that spirituality into practice on a daily basis.

One of our first discussions focused on one way of living our faith: by honoring the body. The conversation touched on several themes. What does it mean to be created in the image of God? What examples do we have of Jesus honoring the physical reality of the human body? He healed those who were sick, emphasizing good health, and he insisted on washing the feet of his disciples.

Further, in what ways did his followers honor the body of Jesus? The story of the woman who anointed his feet with oil came to mind, as did the description of the women going to the tomb to finish preparing his body for burial.

We also asked, “How does our baptism speak to the importance of physical, as well as spiritual, renewal?” Immersion symbolizes cleansing as well as being raised to new life.
Another pressing question that grew out of our discussion was, “In a world that often dishonors the human body, how do we teach our young people about its sacredness? Bodies are socially devalued in myriad ways. Sex is used to sell everything from clothing to cars, hamburgers to hair restorers. Many of our “heroes,” actors and athletes, treat marriage like a dating game. To say that the body is sacred instead of a tool used to gain immediate gratuity flies in the face of our culture.

According to statistics on spousal abuse, one-third to one-half of adult women have been abused by a spouse or significant other. (2) Human trafficking is a major concern for Christians seeking to do mission work, both here and abroad. The current mission focus of American Baptist Women is “Breaking the Chains,” and efforts to do precisely that are underwritten in several locales in Thailand (see http://www.internationalministries.net/missionaries/109).

Our youth encounter the devaluation of bodies every day. Sex is frequently viewed as a way to win approval and acceptance by young girls, and a way to gain a reputation for being strong and masculine by boys. Youthful clothing fashions stoke the fires, and abortion is readily available if one slips up.

This sense that our own bodies, and the bodies of others, can be used to gain social or financial advantage is exceedingly remote from Biblical teachings:

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body (1 Corinthians 6:19-20);” “Do not offer the parts of your body to sin, as instruments of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God, as those who have been brought from death to life (Romans 6:13);” and ultimately Jesus’ example in the Upper Room: “And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me (Luke 22:19).”

The greatest mistake we as parents, or as a church, can make is to let our kids figure it out for themselves. Granted, how to best teach them about sexuality and honoring the body isn’t always clear. One possibility is to have regular discussions with our youth, both at home and in youth group, about self-respect, and its flip-side, devaluation. Another approach is to explore ways of maintaining physical and moral health with them, encouraging the setting of boundaries when it comes to premarital intimacy.

A larger challenge is how to move from a small group discussion about honoring the body to a commitment to cultural change in the church. In our group discussions we’re in the process of mulling over suggestions for implementation, wondering how best to communicate what we’ve learned. Our hope is that the desire to practice the faith in more meaningful ways will find fertile ground among our fellow congregants. If you have an interest in furthering Christian Practices, a helpful resource can be found at http://www.practicingourfaith.org/

1 Bass, Dorothy C. Practicing Our Faith. 1997: Jossey-Bass, p. 6.
2 “Statistics on Spousal Abuse,” www.ezinearticles.com/?Statistics-on-Spousal-Abuse&id=1578447

Kingdom Reality

The parables of Jesus have been described as teaching moments, in a form that lifts up one central lesson. A different way to look at them, however, is from a communication perspective, whereby the parables and the conversations in which they occur can be viewed as efforts on Jesus’ part to construct a new social reality, i.e., the “kingdom of God.”

Jesus is quoted frequently in the Gospels with regard to the kingdom: it is “near” (Matt. 10:7), conferred on the disciples (Luke 22:29), belongs to the poor (Luke 6:20) and the persecuted (Matt. 5:10), and is imminent (Luke 9:27). He tells the Pharisees, “But if I drive out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you” (Matt. 12:28). We can assume that his “mission,” the goal of the ministry, is to introduce that kingdom on earth.

Conversation may be seen as the way that our social worlds are constructed. We are continually saying and doing things with others that “make” new realities. Jesus’ conversations, as portrayed by the gospel writers, can be interpreted in this light.

The dialogue with the lawyer in Luke 10:25-40, which includes the Parable of the Good Samaritan, is an example. We can identify several “turns” in the conversation and identify the participants: Luke (telling the story), Jesus, the lawyer, and several observers - the disciples, a crowd of followers, and Luke’s readers. It is a story (the parable) within a story (the Jesus-Lawyer exchange) within a story (Luke’s gospel), and the turns go something like this:

1 Luke: On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus.
1A Lawyer: Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?
1B Jesus: What is written in the Law? How do you read it?

2A Lawyer: (Quoting Deut 6:5 and Lev 16:18) Love the Lord your God…
2B Jesus: You have answered correctly, Do this and you will live.

3 Luke: But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus
3A Lawyer: And who is my neighbor?
3B Jesus: A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, … Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?

4A Lawyer: The one who had mercy on him.
4B Jesus: Go and do likewise. (NIV)

If we assume that Luke, Jesus and the Lawyer are each trying to “make” something new or different as they speak, what might it be? Luke is in dialogue with his readers, while Jesus and the lawyer are in conversation with each other, the disciples, and the onlookers. From Luke’s perspective (1, 2), the lawyer is trying to make a social world in which Jesus is challenged and publicly discredited. And since he is writing to the early church, he may be trying to construct a religious world that is Gentile-inclusive.

As Luke describes the interchange between Jesus and the lawyer, the lawyer assumes that eternal life is something to be inherited, possibly as a descendent of Abraham. He asks Jesus what must be done to accomplish this, waiting, from Luke’s perspective, for Jesus to trip himself up. Jesus directs him to the law (1A-1B). The Law of Moses is a source of authority for everyone involved in the conversation (perhaps even you).

The lawyer, in a perfectly socially acceptable way, quotes from Deuteronomy and Leviticus (2A) and Jesus affirms his answer (2B). Notice the switching of roles. Before the lawyer was in Luke’s view judging Jesus; now Jesus critiques the lawyer’s response.

In 3-3A the lawyer presses the point. “Who is my neighbor?” One interpretation is that he sought to justify himself in front of the crowd, an attempt to “make” a social situation in which he was considered righteous.

Communication theory talks about culture as well as conversational episodes. We might assume that in this culture not only was the Law highly regarded, but it was clearly understood that “neighbor” referred to fellow Jews – and in the lawyer’s mind, those who rigorously kept the Law.

But Jesus challenges him with a story (3B) in which the heroic role is assigned to a Samaritan, culturally acclaimed as unrighteous. If Jesus were to have spoken to our culture, he might have had Mother Theresa and Billy Graham passing by the robbery victim, with a transvestite stopping to help him.

Low status of a Samaritan would be likely be assumed by the lawyer, the crowd, and possibly the disciples. So Jesus forces the issue by asking, “Who was the neighbor?” and the lawyer is logically pressed to say, “The one who had mercy” (4A).

So we might ask, “Is Jesus using this conversation in an effort to “make” the kingdom of God a reality in the social world of the participants? If so, what does that new reality look like? Here are some possibilities, with the understanding that no evaluation of a conversation is ever quite complete:

Kingdom reality affirms the Law of Moses, but it demands attention to the spirit, rather than the letter of it.

Neighbors aren't defined by race or class, but by purity of heart.

Attempts at self-justification are out of bounds.

The kingdom is intended to include the outcast.

We fall into Jesus’ trap if we assume that we are more righteous than the lawyer.

Choosing Grace

A close friend who is undergoing cancer treatment commented recently that he had observed both "understated, raw courage" in fellow patients, and "mundane grace as performed by those who accompany them." He is interested in how people “make” moments of grace, using the situations we find ourselves in to "make love rather than hate; courage rather than fear; joy rather than terror or defeated resignation."

Implicit in his query is the assumption that social situations are constructed as we go along. They are made collectively as we initiate and/or act into relationships and social situations. To "make" moments of grace assumes an understanding of what grace is. From a New Testament perspective, especially as interpreted by evangelicals, grace is "undeserved merit" towards people by God. That definition is limiting.


In my world grace is what is provided to others who are not so much "undeserving" as they are unable to get what they need to be fully human on their own . It's the provision of the unattainable by one to another, be it love, food, shelter, encouragement, or healing. Such grace may indeed come from God, but my friend cites the presence of "mundane" grace - that which is human and earthly.


The possibility of creating grace in the mundane situations in which we find ourselves may depend largely on how we construe our connection to others involved. If we perceive ourselves to be in relationship with them, strained or otherwise, the door is open to deepening the bond by acting and speaking in ways that address their unmet needs. If we view ourselves out of relationship the desire to act graciously is minimized.


But it is also minimized if we continue to act habitually, especially if our habits are self-centered. Making grace requires empathy, and the williingness to explore it as a new way of communicating.