Just Make the Turn

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Scripture Passage:  Romans 4: 1-5, 13-17 (Lent 2A)

What then are we to say was gained by Abraham, our ancestor according to the flesh? For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God. For what does the scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness.” Now to one who works, wages are not reckoned as a gift but as something due. But to one who without works trusts him who justifies the ungodly, such faith is reckoned as righteousness…For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law but through the righteousness of faith. If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation. For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham (for he is the father of all of us, as it is written, “I have made you the father of many nations”) —in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.

We are creatures of habit.  We cling to our patterns of life sometimes for our very identity.  And it is no different with our faith.  Our ways of believing, our ways of worship, our ways of practicing our faith are, for most of us, virtually untouchable.  (If any of you have ever tried to make any changes in a worship service, you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about!)  We are open to change as long as WE don’t have to be the ones that change.  We are open to doing things differently as long as it doesn’t affect us.  Does that sound a little bit uncomfortably familiar?

The audience to whom Paul was probably writing were really no different.  They had grown up with norms of what was “right” and “righteous”, what made them acceptable before God and as people of faith.  For them, their revered patriarch Abraham was blessed because he followed God and did the right things (which also happened to of course be the things that they were doing or at least thought they were doing).  And now here is Paul daring to write that that’s not what it meant at all, that it had nothing to do with what Abraham did or whether he lived and practiced his faith in the right way but that he had faith in a God that freely offered relationship, in a God that freely and maybe even a little haphazardly offered this relationship to everyone (whether or not it’s actually deserved–go figure!).  Faith is not something that you define or check of your list of “to do’s”; faith is something that you live.

In this Season of Lent, we talk a lot about giving up old ways and taking on new patterns in life.  Lent is a season of re-patterning who we are and how we live.  Maybe it’s a time to let go of the things that we assume, those habits that are so ingrained in us that we don’t even realize that they are there, things that have somehow become so much a part of our lives that they have by their nature changed who we are.  Think of Lent as the season that asks us to drive on the other side of the road.  I remember the first time I did that.  It was in New Zealand.  Now if you’ve been to New Zealand, you understand that the miles and miles of rolling hills patterned only by sheep farms is a good place to learn to drive on the other side of the road (and the other side of the car!).  There is lots of room for “correction”, shall we say.  That wasn’t the problem.  The problem was the more heavily populated areas where we had to deal with other people’s habits and ways of being.  (As in when you had to worry about other people on the road, all of whom were driving on the “wrong” side of the road!)  And in the middle of every town was what they call a “round-about”.  It was sort of fun to get on but getting off was a completely different story.  My brain did not work that way.  I couldn’t make myself turn the right way (or the wrong way) while I was driving on what was to me the “wrong” side of the road (and driving on the “wrong” side of the car!).  So, I just kept circling.  Let me tell you, I circled MANY times.  I remember thinking that there was a distinct possibility that my life would end in that circle.  (And the other three people screaming at me that I had (again) missed the turn was just incredibly helpful, as you can imagine.)  It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done.

We are often traveling our faith journey on a similar roundabout.  We know there’s a place to go but getting there just doesn’t fit in with our lives, doesn’t fit in with what we’ve planned.  So, we drive in circles for a while.  After all, that turn is a scary thing.  So, we grip the wheel with our visions of righteousness and rightness and we keep circling.  The truth is righteousness isn’t just doing the “right” things or thinking the “right” way.  If it was, that would be easy.  We could just get the list of things to do and follow along.  This journey is hard.  It’s about relationships—relationship with God and relationship with each other.  It’s about being open to change, open to seeing things differently, open to being transformed.  Sometimes the turn is hard to make.  Sometimes we have to just breathe the circular, stifled motion out and breathe in the way that God is calling us to go.  And, yes, that means we have to change.  Breathe in the change God is calling you to make.

When we despair of gaining inner transformation through human powers of will and determination, we are open to a wonderful new realization:  inner righteousness is a gift from God to be graciously received.  The needed change within us is God’s work, not ours.  The demand is for an inside job, and only God can work from the inside.  We cannot attain or earn this righteousness of the kingdom of God; it is a grace that is given.  (Richard J. Foster)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Less Defined

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Scripture Passage:  Matthew 9:35 – 10:13

35Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. 36When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 37Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; 38therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”

10Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. 2These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; 3Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; 4Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.

5These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, 6but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. 7As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ 8Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment. 9Take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, 10no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff; for laborers deserve their food. 11Whatever town or village you enter, find out who in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave. 12As you enter the house, greet it. 13If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you. 14If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town. 

This passage is not necessarily the account of a calling but rather a sending.  Jesus had already called his disciples, those who will stay with him for the next years, those who will serve him and offer support.  We are told their names—Simon Peter, Andrew, James, son of Zebedee, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew, James, son of Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, Simon the Cananaean, and Judas.  I think the names are important.  What the names tell us is that Jesus did not just call random people.  He didn’t ask for volunteers.  He didn’t walk through a crowd and pick people out of it.  He called these specific individuals.  And I don’t think it was because they were all that talented or skilled.  In fact, you’ll remember that throughout Jesus’ ministry there was a lot of what we might call bumbling by the disciples.  No, Jesus just called ordinary people.  But he called these ordinary people.

They had different backgrounds.  What that tells me is that there was not some “ideal” person or “ideal” resume’ for the job.  Many were fishermen, a couple were business owners, one was a tax collector, one was a zealot, whatever that meant.  I think a zealot was what we would think of as an activist of some sort.  But they all came together even with all their differences.

And then Jesus gives them the authority to heal, to cure, to raise the dead, to cleanse, all in Jesus’ name.  And, if you read a little farther, he tells them not to take any money, not a bag, not even a change of clothes.  This always struck me as weird.  So, they go out into the world without really being prepared?  I think maybe Jesus didn’t want them to be weighed down.  He didn’t want them to rely solely on themselves because when we do that, it becomes about us.  And this was not about the disciples; it was about the journey on which they were called to go. 

Then (still reading farther) Jesus tells them that if someone doesn’t welcome them, if someone doesn’t listen, if someone doesn’t extend hospitality to them, if someone out and out rejects them, don’t worry about it.  Just “shake off the dust from your feet”.  That is hard.  When you feel like you’re right, when you feel like you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing, it is really hard to walk away from rejection.  But it’s another reminder that it’s not about us.  Sometimes stuff just doesn’t happen the way we plan.  Maybe the person that comes to them next will get through.  Jesus even warns them in this passage that they may be in danger.  There may be people that want to come after them.  But Jesus tells them how to endure, how to keep going.

You know what Jesus doesn’t tell them?  Surprisingly, he doesn’t tell them what to say to people.  He doesn’t give them a set Biblical interpretation or a prescribed theological premise.  He tells them to proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God.  He sends them out to tell the story.  He sends them out to invite others into that story—anybody, everybody, whoever they encounter who will listen.  And he tells them how to adapt, how to be nimble.  He reminds them that it’s not about them or what they think; it’s about the good news.  And he leaves room for them to wrestle with their own understanding.

That’s what it’s about.  I don’t think we’re supposed to memorize our beliefs.  I don’t think we’re meant to be ready to spit them out at a moment’s notice.  Do you remember a couple of years ago when the so-called evangelism gurus started telling you that you needed to come up with an “elevator speech”?  It was a 20 second speech that would somehow tell someone what you believed and convert them.  OK, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I always thought that was truly one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.  Our faith is not about spouting pre-formed messages.  I’m not real sure that passing out flyers or practiced speeches is the way to win people over.  It is rather about relationships.  It’s about listening—listening to where people are, what people need, and maybe even what has turned them off before.  Jesus did that.  He didn’t spout theology sound bites.  He got to know people.  He listened.  He loved.

So, maybe our call is to be a little less defined, a little more open, to employ a little less “canned” theology and begin to listen, to learn, to love.  So, maybe we breathe out the definition.  Maybe we breathe out the canned speech.  And maybe we breathe in just being who God calls us to be—open, loving, maybe just shaking the dust off enough to be who we’re meant to be. 

Today we are bombarded with a theology of certitude. I don’t find much biblical support for the stance of “God told me and I’m telling you, and if you don’t believe as I do, you’re doomed.” A sort of “My god can whip your god” posture. From Abraham, going out by faith not knowing where he was being sent, to Jesus on the cross, beseeching the Father for a better way, there was always more inquiring faith than conceited certainty. (Will Campbell)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Unsettled

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Scripture Passage:  Genesis 12: 1-4 (Lent 2A)

Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. 2I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. 3I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” 4So Abram went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot went with him.

We are familiar with this story that our lectionary brings for this second week of Lent.  We know it well.  Abram is called to go forth, called to leave what he knows and become someone new.  We know that it will end with him becoming Abraham.  It is the beginning of Israel, the beginning of Judaism, and, ultimately, the beginning of us and our own faith story.  The story quickly moves from a broad sweep of humanity to a focus on one family and one person.  Perhaps it was a way of reminding us that humanity is not just a glob of no-name people but is rather made up of individuals, each children of God in their own right.

We like this story of our hero Abraham.  What courage, what persistence, what faith it would take to leave one’s home, to leave everything that one knows and to follow God.  It is that to which we all aspire and to which most of us fall incredibly short.  We struggle with what leaving would mean for us.  After all, what would it mean to you to just lock your doors and walk away, never looking back at the comforts and certitudes of your existence, never look back at all the stuff you’ve gathered and stored, never look back at this life that you have so painstakingly created? 

I’ve always wondered what Abram really thought.  I mean, he wasn’t young.  He and Sarai had been around a long time.  They had wanted children, a big family, someone to carry their legacy on, but it hadn’t happened.  But they were fine.  They had settled into a wonderful life.  Perhaps Abram had plans to spend lazy afternoons napping in the hammock and watching the sheep.  Maybe he had plans to get a couple of camels.  Life was not what they had wanted but it was good—really, really good.  And then, without warning, everything changed…

I mean, “Go”…Go where?  I’m not young.  I have arthritic knees.  Where am I supposed to go?  What is it I’m supposed to do?  I’ve got a lot of things going on.  Sarai needs me.  The sheep need me.  This is not a good time.  I have too much to do.  You have the wrong person.

Yes, I took liberties.  The Scriptures don’t focus on anything resembling this fight of wills.  But Abram was human.  Isn’t that what we would feel?  He was asked to just blindly go, trusting in the God in whom he fiercely believed.  But there had to be some reticence.  I mean, think about it.  The plan he was given was a little sketchy.  Why would God call this person who was settling into the end of his life?  Why would God tell him to go into the unknown, into the wild unpaved terrain, away from everything he knows?  And, really, he was just told to go with only a faint promise of legacy and greatness and history.  How in the world was Abram supposed to grasp that?

It’s probably even harder for us.  I mean, at least Abram was already part of a nomadic lifestyle.  And then there’s us.  We don’t just “settle” down.  We actually strive for it.  In fact, it’s our goal in life—family, home, a little money to spend, time with our loved ones, and some private time.  But maybe a little unsettling wouldn’t be such a bad thing.  But what would we do?  I mean, how big of a storage unit do I need to rent for all my stuff?  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if we breathed out some of this settling, some of this way of life to which we hold, and breathed in the new pathway God is calling us to traverse.

I’ve always found it interesting that the season of Lent begins not in the Temple, not in the “settled” place, but in the wilderness, where the winds blow the pathways into changing patterns rather than roads and the sands swirl and blind us at times.  Maybe it is when we leave behind what we know that we can finally hear the way Home.  That is the Promise in which we trust–that somewhere beyond what we have figured out and what we have planned and that for which we have settled is the way Home.  I mean, really, would it hurt to unsettle your life a bit?  Because, otherwise, how will you be able to know when God is calling you to “Go”?

Let yourself get shaken up. What are you willing to give up to ensure your own unfolding, and the unfolding of what is holy in your life? Where you stumble, here is your treasure. (Joseph Campbell)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Chaos Theory

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , , , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Scripture Passage:  Mark 8: 31-38

31Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. 32He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. 33But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” 34He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 35For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. 36For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? 37Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? 38Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

We are very good at imagining who we intend to be.  We are very good at attempting to write the story that makes sense for us.  So, what do we do when we find out that the story is about to change?  See, Peter had it all figured out.  His whole identity was wrapped up in who he understood Jesus to be and who he understood himself to be in light of that.  Sure, I think Peter got that Jesus was the Messiah.  He knew the words.  He had been taught the meaning probably from his childhood, the idea that this Messiah would come and bring victory and glory. Put yourself in his place.  Here is this great man who you have grown to dearly love.  This ministry that he has begun has been great.  He truly IS the Messiah for which you have waited so long.  What great plans for the future Peter must have imagined! 

But then Jesus starts talking about his own coming suffering.  This wasn’t the plan that Peter envisioned.  This wasn’t the way the story was supposed to go.  Most of us identify with Peter here.  This cannot be!  There is no way that it is time for Jesus to leave us.  This was our Messiah sent here to save us, the Messiah for which we have waited for generations upon generations!  Jesus’ harsh statement to Peter jolts us into reality, though.  For we do often limit our thinking to things of this world.  We want to protect and possess this Messiah.  We want a Messiah who will save us on our terms, someone to be in control, someone to fix things, someone to make it all turn out like we want it to turn out, someone to make our lives safer and easier. 

Now, contrary to the way our version of the Scriptures interprets it, I don’t think Jesus was accusing Peter of being evil or Satan or anything like that.  Who could blame Peter?  He’s just like us!  Listen further…If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  We’ve all read that verse before.  We’d like to make it read a little easier.  We would rather skip through the end of Holy Week and go straight to Easter morning.  That’s why this season of Lent is so difficult.  It won’t let us do that.  The cross is not something that we look to only in the past.  The cross is not something that we look to at the end of our lives.  This is not some goal for farther down the road. This is not some plan laid out for our lives.  This is here; this is now. It’s talking about the journey.  It’s talking about our listening to God’s calling us in our lives now.  It’s talking about letting your life go NOW! If this were easy, then we wouldn’t need Christ.  We’re not asked to just believe in Christ; we’re asked to follow…all the way to the cross.

I know what you’re all thinking.  I’m not so sure I signed up for this.  What happened to that Messiah that was going to take away all our troubles—you know calm all the storms and such?  What happened to that Savior that would solve all of our problems so that life wouldn’t be so hard?  Ooops! Wrong Savior! Maybe we don’t want a Messiah at all.  Maybe we were confused.  Maybe what we REALLY want is a superhero, you know…more of a “and they lived happily ever after” ending. 

That’s not how the story is written.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, I in no way believe that everything has already been laid out for us as some sort of pre-ordained path.  I’m not that Calvinist.  It’s much more nuanced than that.  Some of you have heard me say this, but I once had the opportunity to be a part of a discussion group with John Irving (yes, THAT John Irving).  One question that was asked was predictable:  How did he write his stories?  But his answer was unusual.  He said that he writes the ending first and then rolls out the plots, themes, and chapters that will end the way he has envisioned it.

I think that’s a lot like the way this story is being written.  God has a vision.  We’ve been given clues and the small pieces of it that we can grasp.  But the story is still being written by God and by us.  God has invited us into this work.  But the story is not linear.  It’s not something we can predict or for which we can plan.  Instead, it probably more closely resembles chaos theory.  Chaos theory is a scientific and mathematical discipline that embraces patterns, rather than linear lines.  The assumption is that whatever happens is a product of multiple things, including choices, weather, science, and the things that came before.  You’ve heard of the “butterfly effect”.  That’s chaos theory.  It’s not random.  And it’s not chaos.  It’s ordered.  Isn’t that what God does?  God takes this veritable chaotic swirl of happenings and orders it.  And it is very very good.

Jesus had that vision.  Jesus knew the story.  He was trying to help Peter understand that the chapters that would unfold were not random.  They certainly weren’t chaos.  But they weren’t controllable.  They weren’t predictable.  They weren’t the story that we would probably pen on our own.  God is writing the story and invites us into it to help write it.  But we need to breathe out needing it to be predictable, needing it to be what we want or envision or write for ourselves.  Forget that.  Breathe in the story…the one that God is writing with you. 

God…leads us step by step, from event to event.  Only afterwards, as we look back over the way we have come and reconsider certain important moments in our lives in the light of all that has followed them, or when we survey the whole progress of our lives, do we experience the feeling of having been led without knowing it, the feeling that God has mysteriously guided us. (Paul Tournier)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

It WAS About Grace

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Psalm 32 (Lent 1A)

1Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.

2Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.

3While I kept silence, my body wasted away through my groaning all day long.

4For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer. Selah

5Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not hide my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,” and you forgave the guilt of my sin. Selah

6Therefore let all who are faithful offer prayer to you; at a time of distress, the rush of mighty waters shall not reach them.

7You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with glad cries of deliverance. Selah

8I will instruct you and teach you the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.

9Do not be like a horse or a mule, without understanding, whose temper must be curbed with bit and bridle, else it will not stay near you.

10Many are the torments of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds those who trust in the Lord.

11Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, O righteous, and shout for joy, all you upright in heart.

Well, you can tell it’s Lent when we keep talking about confession and repentance and forgiveness.  Most people in our modern-day society sort of squirm with those subjects.  I mean, can’t we just put these on the top shelf next to the hellfire and brimstone theology and the decree claiming that women can’t read the Scripture in church?  I mean, how about we talk a little about grace?  Isn’t that what we do?  We’d rather hide the shortcomings away or shift the blame to someone else or change the environment so what we did is perhaps now acceptable.  I mean, admitting we’ve messed up is hard.  It’s uncomfortable.  And what if everyone knows about it?  And so, we walk around full of guilt, full of questions, full of something that could just as easily be cleared away.

Let’s get this straight.  God is not sitting there waiting for us to confess, waiting for us to repent before God loves us.  There are those who will couch it like that (probably the same ones pulling the hellfire and brimstone material out) but, and this is me talking, I think that’s not the way it is at all.  Maybe God doesn’t even really care whether or not we do it.  Oh, but I think God does.  You know why?  Because God loves us.  See, confession, admission, breathing out the wrongs we have done, the people we have hurt, the ways we have blamed others for the peril of our lives is not to please God.  It is, rather, to make room for us, to clear a way so that we can grow and prosper and find a new way.  And because God loves us more than we can even fathom, God’s desire is that that happens—not for God but for us.

The psalmist warns against our silence, warns against us hiding ourselves away and not talking about it, not facing the truth.  And the psalmist exhorts us to confess, to admit our wrongdoing, to claim responsibility for our sins.  We no longer need to hide.  Because it is God who will step in, who will hold us in our discomfort, who will comfort us in our peril, who will stand with us as the consequences of whatever harm we have wrought, whatever hurts we have brought, rain down on us.

See, we know God forgives.  The part we miss is that God will stay with us through everything that comes after.  Breathe out your confession.  Make room.  And breathe in forgiveness and newness and the very presence of God through it all.

I must confess that I was not excited about writing this one.  I mean, it sort of sounded like a downer.  Now I realize that it WAS about grace.  Breathe out confession and breathe in grace.

In the Name of Jesus Christ you are forgiven…

Forgiveness is the act of admitting we’re like other people.  (Christian Baldwin)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Map Quest

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Matthew 4: 1-11 (Lent 1A)

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. 2He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. 3The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” 4But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” 5Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, 6saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” 7Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 8Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; 9and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” 10Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” 11Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

The wilderness story…we read some version of this in the first week of every Lenten season.  It makes sense.  It is the beginning of our journey.  It is the beginning of Jesus’ journey to the cross.  And it leaves a lot of really good fodder for discussion.  Oh, we could talk about the usual subjects.  We could talk about the way Jesus did not fall prey to the temptation to be powerful or protected or relevant.  Instead, Jesus let all that go.  He just was. And he started walking.

But where was he?  He had been led into the wilderness.  There was no map.  There is a faint remnant of a road that moves and flows and ebbs like waves as the winds blow over the sands.  The way is dim, sometimes non-existent.  You might be able to navigate if you knew the mountains well, if you knew which ones rise first and tower higher over the others.  You might be able to navigate when you think about where the beating sun is sitting, where it rises, where it falls.  But the way is not dependable.  The way is the way.  There is no map.

That is hard for us.  We want to know where we’re going. Oh, we’ve moved beyond maps for the most part.  There is instead a voice in the car or a voice on our phone that tells us where to go, that takes all the guesswork and most of the journeying out of the trip.  And with that, we have become dependent upon the voice, dependent upon being told the way and we soon find that we have somehow ceded our navigation to something that limits us, to something that controls us, to something that doesn’t allow us to deviate from the path.

I grew up with a dad that, I swear, knew every back road that was to be known.  He always had a “shortcut”.  And we always had maps.  I loved maps.  I was fascinated by them as far back as I can remember.  I remember navigating from the back seat with the tattered map that I never knew how to fold back the way it was meant to be.

Soon after I lost my dad, a friend and I drove to Taos, NM so that she could officiate at a wedding.  I just went along for the ride (and, apparently, navigation support).  It dawned on me that there were probably places in rural West Texas that might not respond to my GPS.  There was an excitement in me when I realized I needed a map!  Oh, I had a map!  It was the map my dad gave me when I went to college in 1980.  OK, maybe I needed a new map.  So, I went to Amazon and ordered maps for Texas and New Mexico.

Fast forward to rural West Texas.  Yep, there it was…that gray slice of nothingness in the middle of my iPhone straining to form a map.  So I pulled out the paper version.  And I began navigating.  One of those jaunts included a missed turn.  Not a problem…I have a map.  So, we drove down a barely-paved county road toward the road we meant to turn onto.  There were delightful farmhouses and beautiful vistas and the most wonderful 19th century Spanish church and cemetery.  And we would have missed it all if we had had the GPS.  I remember commenting, “oh my goodness, Billy Don Williams is SO proud of us right now!”

The journey is not about the way; the way IS the Way.  So what do we breathe out?  We breathe out needing to follow a plan.  We breathe out needing to always know where we’re going.  We breathe out anything that gets in the way of the Way.  The journey is not mapped.  It’s a faint pathway and the winds may blow the sands so that sometimes it is concealed.  Keep walking.  What is the way?  It IS the way. Just listen. You’ll know where to go.

There is a journey you must take.  It is a journey without destination.  There is no map.  Your soul will lead you.  And you can take nothing with you. (Meister Eckhart)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

This Thing About Sin

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Man walking towards storm

Romans 5: 12-19 (Lent 1A)

12Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death came through sin, and so death spread to all because all have sinned— 13sin was indeed in the world before the law, but sin is not reckoned when there is no law. 14Yet death exercised dominion from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sins were not like the transgression of Adam, who is a type of the one who was to come. 15But the free gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died through the one man’s trespass, much more surely have the grace of God and the free gift in the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, abounded for the many. 16And the free gift is not like the effect of the one man’s sin. For the judgment following one trespass brought condemnation, but the free gift following many trespasses brings justification. 17If, because of the one man’s trespass, death exercised dominion through that one, much more surely will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness exercise dominion in life through the one man, Jesus Christ. 18Therefore just as one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all. 19For just as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous.

Well, I really, really thought about changing the passage but, alas, it’s the lectionary for this week.  SO…I guess we have to talk about sin.  In this passage, Paul mentions sin or some form of it (sinner, transgression, disobedience, etc.) sixteen times by my count.  In fact, five of the mentions are in the first sentence!  Do you think he was trying to make a point?  Sin, I’m afraid, is a fact of life.  It is part of all us.  We claim that perhaps our own sins are not that bad.  You’ve heard all the claims and the questions:  So, if I don’t KNOW I’m sinning, is it really sin?  So which sins are the “unforgiveable” ones? I mean, really, it was only a little sin, just a little “white lie”.  Yes, in the big scheme of things, it was probably nothing more than a veritable sigh of a sin.  And then there’s the ultimate from our friend the Pharisee:  “Well, thank God I’m not like that tax collector!”

But in our interconnectedness, sin affects us all.  And even the smallest of sins can release such a force that none of us can control it.  Now don’t get me wrong.  I do not in any way believe that “sin” is something outside of us.  It is not a “force to be reckoned with”, so to speak.  I’m pretty clear that when I sin, it is me.  It is my bad choice.  It is me that has messed up, that has not honored myself or my place in the beauty of this interconnected Creation, rather than it being caused by some sort of little red man with horns or something.  I have to own it.  It is mine.  It is mine, that is, until it is done.  And then it spills into Creation and begins cutting a path with a force more powerful than anything we’ve ever imagined.

So, you’re expecting me to exhort us to “breathe out” sin in this posting, to just quit doing it.  Yeah, I don’t think that’s the way it works.  Sin is a part of our existence.  Now, even though Paul dances around this, I don’t really believe in “inherited sin”, the “sins of the father”, so to speak.  And yet, it’s bigger than me.  Sin was part our existence before we came to be and will continue after we are gone because part of our human condition is that we mess up.  We try, but we mess up.  Sadly, it just is.  Maybe it’s not so much whether or not we do it but, rather, what we do after it.

Barbara Brown Taylor wrote what I think is the quintessential book on sin called Speaking of Sin.  In it, she speaks of sin as our only hope. (WHAT?!?)  She describes it as our only hope because realizing our sin, realizing our shortcomings, empowers us to set things right again.  It makes sense.  If we ignore our sin or if we somehow excuse it away, even dismissing it as the act of our “mere humanity”, we have failed to acknowledge the very hope that sets us right again, the springboard that leads to redemption, to righteousness, to getting back on the pathway that we’re trying so hard to traverse.

In forgiveness, we do not find innocence.  We do not find a way to put things back like they were before (remember that innocent garden thing has sailed!).  What we find is a pathway to a better way.  So, breathe out…breathe out ignoring your sins, breathe out not wanting to change, breathe out not accepting the grace of forgiveness and the gift of beginning again.   

In the Name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven!

In Christian language, to be truly human is to shape our lives into an offering to God. But we are lost children who have wandered away from home, forgotten what a truly human life might be. When Jesus, our older brother, presented himself in the sanctuary of God, his humanity fully intact, he did not cower as though he were in a place of “blazing fire and darkness and gloom.” Instead he called out, “I’m home, and I have the children with me.” (Thomas Long)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli