Monday, December 17, 2018

Ahead of the Curve



Ahead of the Curve--December 17, 2018

"And the crowds asked [John the Baptizer], 'What then should we do?' In reply he said to them, 'Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.' Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, 'Teacher, what should we do?' He said to them, 'Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.' Soldiers also asked him, 'And we, what should we do?' He said to them, 'Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages'." [Luke 3:10-14]

How do you get ready for the turning point of history?  You share your food and clothes.

How about that?

It some how seems too... ordinary... too routine, maybe, for the arrival of a deliverer your people have been waiting on for centuries.  It has the feel of telling the French citizens living under the Vichy government and Nazi occupiers, "The Allies are coming soon!  Get ready for D-Day by donating shoes to the local homeless shelter, and making sure not to undertip your waiters and waitresses!" These actions seem so small and insignificant compared to the big and important events for which we are hoping.

And yet, that's precisely what John says: the Messiah is coming--share your abundance, and treat people justly rather than for selfish gain.  So his counsel to the crowds is, "If you have more than you need, give away the excess to people who are without."  And his direction to the tax collectors, who were widely seen as sell-outs to the Romans and cheats who used their position to extort money from people with impunity, "Don't cheat people.  Don't use your position to get more for yourself."  The same to the soldiers--these would likely have been more like law-enforcement or police under the authority of Herod--they were supposed to use their positions, like we see on police cars today, "to protect and serve," rather than to shake people down for money or falsely accuse people.  In other words, justice and mercy. 

John's message to people waiting for the coming of the Messiah was to do justice and to practice mercy--to put the needs of others before your own, and not to abuse your position to make yourself rich at the expense of others.  In a sense, none of this was new.  John wasn't inventing new commandments--he was riffing on the same message of the prophets who came before him like a jazz musician.  John was only taking the words of Micah, "Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God," and putting them into real life ordinary situations to keep those words from becoming empty slogans or vague concepts.  The prophets had always said, "What God is really after with us is that we love one another with our actions, our words, and our possessions."  John just gives concrete examples--the second coat, the shared meal, the refusal to leverage your position for selfish gain.

And notice in that: there is no additional talk from John about who "deserves" our sharing.  There is no asterisk or fine print that adds, "But of course, not for freeloaders... or people who came from far away... or people you don't particularly like." John simply says, like both Deuteronomy and Mr. Rogers would say it as well, to care for the "neighbor" who is in front of you--whoever that happens to be.  Similarly, John doesn't tell the tax collectors, "Look, you have gotten yourself a good position--of course you're going to want to get the perks from it! That's just how the world works!"  Nor does he live in the illusion that the soldiers aren't tempted to abuse their authority and weaponry--nobody accuses John of "not supporting the troops" or of "undermining law enforcement" just because he calls them out on the abuses he has seen in the past.  John just baldly says to anyone he meets that the right way to live in expectation of God's Messiah is to practice justice and to let mercy become a way of life, which is all that any of the other prophets had ever said, too.

But let's be very clear about something: John doesn't tell his listeners that they have to be good little boys and girls in order to make the Messiah come.  He doesn't preach that enough good behavior and rule-following will bring about the Reign of God, and he doesn't really even want us to believe that the only reason to behave is just to avoid future divine zapping.  We don't do justice in order to prime the pump so that the Messiah can come, nor is the Reign of God powered by our good deeds like Tinker Bell being brought back to life by enough audience clapping and belief in pixies.  John calls people to act justly and practice generosity in their ordinary work lives and neighborhoods because justice and mercy are what the Reign of God look like.  And when the Messiah comes, and when the Reign of God breaks out in fullness everywhere, justice and mercy will be the order of the day.  John is just telling us to live ahead of the curve now and practice life like that already.

In other words, because we believe that in God's Reign, everybody gets to eat, we will practice that kind of life now and share our bread.  And because we believe that in God's Reign, nobody will go without clothing, we share our clothes with others rather than hoarding closets full of clothes we will never wear and only donating things we don't like anymore or spilled tomato sauce on once.  Because we believe that God runs the universe on grace and gives good things to people regardless of whether anybody else thinks they have "earned" it, we will practice grace in our lives, too, without getting all fussy about who is really "worthy" of help.  And because we believe, John says, that God is able to provide enough for everybody, I don't have to use my power and privilege to put Me-and-My-Group-First, but instead can use our positions for the good of all.  We live like that now, not in order to make the Messiah come, but because that's how life is wherever God reigns.  John is just calling us to live ahead of the curve.

And that happens in ordinary actions, in everyday situations, in the mundane and the routine as much as in the grand and monumental.  The way to get ready for the coming of the new creation is not to wear sandwich board signs on the street corner announcing "The End Is Near" but to share with someone who can never pay you back, to refuse the perks of your position, to love someone who doesn't expect it.  We live as though the Reign of God we are waiting for is already breaking out all around us.

Because it is.

Lord Jesus, give us the vision today to live in light of your promised future, in all the mundane details of our daily work and 


Sunday, December 16, 2018

For the Wounded Manger God (Poem and Picture 015)--Decmeber 16, 2018


For the Wounded Manger God
See Christ Here Poem and Picture 015--December 16, 2018

Tonight we all took
paper tears
and wrote on the backs
the names of ones
whose memories weighed heavy
on our hearts:
David
Gloria
Jakelin
and then hung them
on a tree, asking
like a prayer,
for the wounded manger God
to carry these lives
and these sorrows

for us.

#seeChristhere


We Are Becoming (Poem and Picture 014)--December 15, 2018


We Are Becoming
See Christ Here Poem and Picture 014--December 15, 2018

Before the hammer strikes
the first nail,
even an amateur woodworker
has a vision
of what such planks of pine
will become,
working with its knots and grain

until it is finished.

"You are God's handiwork,"
says the apostle.


We are not waiting idly:
we are becoming.

#seeChristhere


Friday, December 14, 2018

Standing Out (Poem and Picture 013)--December 14, 2018


Standing Out
See Christ Here Poem and Picture 013--December 13, 2018

Would you call the forsythia foolish
For putting out buds
in a warm spell
on a December afternoon?
Heeding the call of spring
ahead of time
they cannot help but come to life.
Hope always makes you stand out from the crowd.

Eventually the rest of us will catch up.

#seeChristhere




Thursday, December 13, 2018

Point A and Point B


Point A and Point B--December 14, 2018

"For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with signs too deep for words." [Romans 8:19-26]

Try and draw a diagram of this whole scene, and you'll run into a problem--you can't pin God down to just on spot on your piece of paper.

At first, it sounds like the apostle here is sketching out a timeline between the present (where we are right now) the future (where, we might assume, God is) in which God will finally "set free" all of creation and all things will be put right, like a mother in labor pains waiting for the birth of the long-expected child.  And if that were the end of Paul's description, we could make our drawing look like that: a line with "us" at one end here in the miserable present, living in the world as we know it full of sorrow and sadness, of brokenness and violence, and then at the far end of the line would be the future where "God" would be labeled, off in some glorious distant utopia where all of the pains of life-as-we-know it are set aside and done.  And if that were our picture, then we would just sort of assume the Christian life is simply a matter of waiting out the clock--of sitting our hands, twiddling our spiritual thumbs, and getting time to pass until we get from Point A's sadness to Point B's serenity.

Except... Paul doesn't just picture God as off in the future--Paul says that the Spirit of God is already here, right here with us right now, like "first fruits" of a harvest that are a sign there is more to come.  Paul insists that God isn't stuck at Point B off in the future, but dwells with us now, in this moment, and in fact, groans alongside of us at all the brokenness of the world.  In fact, you could say, in those moments when we AREN'T heartbroken over violence and hatred, hunger and despair, the Spirit of God is the One who groans loudly enough to wake us up out of our pleasantly complacent naps.  God isn't just waiting to arrive in some future moment once all the mess of history has been cleaned up--God is present by the Spirit right now, aching and waiting and sighing and groaning and moving and acting to bear the brokenness and to put things right.  God isn't just in ONE spot OR the other, one time or the other, but is waiting with us in the present and is also waiting to greet us in that promised future.  Both/and, not either/or.  The God whose coming we are waiting for this Advent is also the God who groans at our side, and sighs from within us, right now.

That also means one more correction is called for in our mental picture of this whole relationship between us and God.  Even in the present, God isn't simply "up there" above us, like we usually picture.  Here, in this passage, Paul talks about our praying, and we tend to assume that prayer is the technical term for "me getting my words from down here on Earth to somehow get 'UP' to where God is in heaven."  And my goodness, there are all sorts of authors, TV preachers, and self-appointed religious leaders who are sure they have got it all figured out how to get your prayers to be heard by God, and what things will just bounce off the sky. 

That sort of thing will sell--it's a way of thinking that says that prayer is a matter of "getting what you want," and that getting your prayers answered is simply a matter of technique, as if all you need is to know the right words, the right timing, the right accompanying religious devotion, the right sized check mailed to the right church, and then your prayers will sail on through the clouds without so much as a speed bump.  That sounds appealing because it basically makes prayer a matter of control--how we "down here" can exercise control over a God "up there." And it offers a simple explanation for why "bad" things happen--God would be able to stop them, if only our prayers could get through to where God is "up there" and then God would answer.

And again, that kind of picture would be easy to label: we would be "down here," back at Point A, and God would be "up there" at a heavenly Point B.  It's the same picture as before, just turned from the horizontal to the vertical.  It's easy to picture a set-up like that, where God is locatable in one place or the other.  Our brains can grasp something like that.

But alas, once again, Paul takes our oversimplified mental pictures and breaks them open.  The God to whom we pray is also, Paul says, the God who... prays alongside of us!  When we don't know what we ought to pray--in those times when no words come, when we don't know what to ask anymore, or when somehow we sense our need is bigger than a simple, "Dear God, please do X"--in those moments, Paul tells us that we are not left to our own devices.  Paul tells us that God isn't just "up there" on the receiving end of our prayers (if only we have worded them properly), but that God is also with us, in us, and among us, groaning beyond our capacity for language.

Try drawing that picture and labeling the parts, and you'll be left scratching your head trying to figuring out whether God is at Point A or Point B, and for that matter, whether Point B is off in the future at the end of a horizontal time-line, or up in the sky at the top of a vertical one.  Paul has been saying all along that the Spirit is present here and now, as well as "up" and "out" and "then" and "there."  By the Spirit, God groans, God waits, God aches, God endures, and God sighs.

I don't think you can draw a picture like that with neat and tidy individual labels.  And I think it is good news, in the end, that you can't.

O Spirit of God, groan with us today and move us to live in light of your promised future.

Ninety-Nine Ornaments (Poem and Picture 012)--December 13, 2018


Ninety-Nine Ornaments
See Christ Here Poem and Picture 012--December 13, 2018

Ninety-nine ornaments
each simply bearing the words
"God with us"

seem more impressive all together.

Hard to miss a message
spoken so clearly

right before your eyes.

And yet every day
each breath
bears the same message, too:
God is with us
now,
and now,

and now.

#seeChristhere


Wednesday, December 12, 2018

The God and the Girl Who Wait


The God and the Girl Who Wait--December 13, 2018

"The angel said to Mary, 'The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.' Then Mary said, 'Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.' Then the angel departed from her." [Luke 1:35-38]

In this moment, something amazing happens.  Mary begins to wait for what the angel has promised... but so does God.

That's a strange thought, probably.  We tend to think that one of the perks of being God should be not having to wait for things.  After all, God could choose to snap a divine finger and make a baby appear, right?  God just speaks the universe into existence, right?  Jesus just shouts to Lazarus, and the dead man comes back to life, right?  Surely a God who can launch creation with a simple, "Let there be light" and pulls off a resurrection by simply saying, "Lazarus, come out!" can also make a fully formed human being at the drop of a hat.  Why even start with a baby, while we're on the subject?  Why not just speak a cosmic, "Bazinga!" and have a fully-grown adult Jesus appear out of the smoke?

Because, of course, this moment is about God's complete embrace of humanity--God goes "all the way down," so to speak, to be completely immersed in our human life.  And, whether we like it or not, human life involves existing within the bounds of time.  That means waiting... both Mary waiting for a child now growing inside her to be born, and also God waiting for the same thing.  God waits doubly, you could say: God waits on the outside, alongside Mary, for the nine months to pass, and God waits in the womb, too, as cells divide, as fingers form, as life grows there in the darkness.  God waits because God chooses to--because fully entering into humanity requires the time for growing, developing, and becoming.

This waiting is really an amazing thing, both on Mary's part, and on God's.  For her part, Mary commits to an entirely new course of her life with her "Yes" to the angel.  Her consent is important, and maybe we don't often consider what a wonder it is that God hangs the whole story of the universe's salvation on the consenting response of a teenage girl (and, to be quite frank, teenagers as a rule are not known for their excellence in patience).  But there, as everything depends on what Mary will say--and her willingness to live into the "Yes" she speaks.  Because with her sentence, "Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word," she consents to the waiting of the nine months... and then the years of raising this child... and the heartache and sorrow that are waiting along the way, too.  It won't be long once the child is born, after all, that old Simeon will warn Mary that there is a pierced heart in store for her, too, because she will ache over the suffering of her boy.  

Whatever other life plans Mary had made, whatever other cookie cutter vision of Plan A for a Successful Life she had grown up with, whatever other dreams for how her life would go, these things were set aside with her "Yes" to the pregnancy.  That is a wonder, just by itself.  It is a radical break from the childish way we have of demanding our own way, right away, "or else."  Children (and childish grown-ups as well) like to bellow threats that go, "If I don't get my way, I'll knock it all down!" We who live in this age of push-button ordering of merchandise on our phones and computer screens, we who can instantly download movies on a whim, we who are used to instant gratification, we demand our wishes be granted, and we want it now, like we are a whole society full of Veruca Salts.  But Mary doesn't insist on getting her way, right away.  Instead, she agrees to be a part of what the angel has asked her to be a part of, even when the first step of that plan is to wait... for nine months... allowing her body to be changed, her comfort to be set aside, her plans to be put on hold, and her life turned upside down.

And God waits, too.  After centuries of promises, centuries of working through (and working in spite of, sometimes) obstinate, ornery people, here the moment for the arrival of the Promised One was so close!  We might have been tempted, if we had been in God's shoes, to rush through this last step, to short-circuit human biology and just have a Messiah emerge from the wilderness a full-grown adult, or beam down on one of those fiery chariots.  But instead God waits as well--waiting even to have the angel speak to Mary first before just charging ahead with the divine design.  God waits--and all of creation, too, in that moment--for Mary's "Yes."  And then God waits the months of pregnancy, the years of childhood, the drama of adolescence, and the beginnings of adulthood, before Mary's boy Jesus steps onto the scene ready to live out the calling of "messiah."

All of those things--the teachings, the miracles, the dinner parties with outcasts, the foot-washing, the cross, and the resurrection--all of those are off in a distant future as the angel speaks with Mary here.  And yet, with her "Yes," something has begun, and now God is present in and with Mary, within her own body, her own life, even in the waiting.

We keep coming back to this surprising and life-giving truth: even when we are waiting for God to act in some big way, God is with us in the waiting now.  Unlike the childish voices of our day that shout, "If I don't get MY way, RIGHT away, I'm walking out!" ours is a God who stays with us in our waiting, who goes to Mary for her consent to share in the waiting too, and who endures the necessary waiting as a part of completely entering into our humanity.

For whatever places in your life you feel like you are waiting for big things to happen, or are caught in one of those big transitions in life where everything else is in flux, this is a moment to remember that God waits, too.  Not passively sitting on hands up in heaven, but waiting all the same.  God waits with us, and for us, and within us... even while we are looking ahead to God's great and promised future.  

What else can we say back to a God who goes through all of that with us, but, "Here we are, servants of the Lord; let it be with us just as you have said"?

Lord God, here we are, your servants.  Let it be with us as you say, and we will wait, while you wait, too, as you bring about great things among us and within us.