A Reordering

This psalter is part of a Psalm that was probably read at the occasion of a royal liturgy.  The words are the petition for a leader, a good leader, a worthy leader, a leader that will bring the nation into righteousness and peace, a leader that will answer injustice with hope and promise.  It is a prayer not just for a redeemed people but a redeemed nation.  It is a prayer that the vision of the nation might be reordered into that vision that God holds for all of us.

During Advent, we talk a lot about God’s vision.  We talk a lot about the Kingdom of God becoming what it should be.  And we hope and we dream and we look for it to happen.  But do you think sometimes we’re not looking through the right lenses? I mean, I pray for this to happen.  You pray for this to happen.  And when we live in a time such as this, we wait, we wait for the world to change.  But are we hoping that will happen for us or are we hoping it will happen for the world?  I know that’s a weird question.  What if we’re so shaped right now by the difficulties we are experiencing that our view of God’s vision has become an end to those difficulties, a way of moving ourselves into a better scenario.

Years ago, in one of the large meeting rooms at Lakeview Methodist Assembly in Palestine, TX, hung a huge poster.  When you went up to it, it was this wonderful mosaic of maybe 100-125 pictures of people doing ministry, of the church being the church, of Christians being Christians.  It was inspirational.  But if you went to the other side of the room and looked back at it from a distance, you couldn’t see the individual pictures.  What you saw instead was an image of Christ.  All of those tiny pictures came together into an image of the Holy.  It was powerful.  I’ve spent years trying to find that picture.  But I’ll never forget it.  When you quit looking at the individual pictures, together they become a picture of the Holy.

Another metaphor…have you ever sang in a choir?  I’ve recently gone back to singing in a choir after “doing other things” for about 25 years.  Learning to sing in a choir is not just about learning to sing.  It’s more than that.  It’s almost kind of practice for God’s Kingdom.  Because a choir is not just a conglomeration of individual voices.  At its best (when the choir is truly at its best), you can’t hear the individual voices.  You actually hear what sounds like one multi-layered voice.  There are no individual “solos” sticking out over the music.

That’s it.  The Kingdom of God is not about me or you; it’s about us—all of us.  So, we have to back away from ourself.  We have to back away from those things that make us uncomfortable, those things that make life difficult, those things that we want desperately to control.  The Kingdom of God is not a fulfillment of all the things for which we wish.  God is not Santa Claus.  Rather, God’s vision is a reordering of Creation, a re-creation of everything. 

So, I had an interaction on Facebook yesterday.  (Yeah, I know…)  Anyway, the person wanted to give people money for food but do away with systemic programs, such as SNAP.  In other words, SHE wanted to pick and choose who deserved her money rather than at least attempting to create a system that helps that along.  Here’s where we need to back away.  Here’s where we need to see that outline of Christ.  Here’s where we need to tone our “solo” voices down and become a choral ensemble.  I don’t think God’s vision is one that gives us everything we want; I think it’s a vision that fulfills everyone’s need.  Remember that whole manna thing?  The manna came.  They ate.  And then the manna left.  The Daily Bread is given over and over.  It’s not for us to decide who gets is.  It’s not something that some will be given more.  It’s God vision—a vision where everyone is filled and no one has too little or too much–a picture that we have to sometimes back away to see.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Pointing Toward the Moon

Oh…John.  We talk about him every Advent.  Sometimes it seems that he’s the one, the gatekeeper, so to speak, that we have to go through to get to Christmas Eve.  As most of you know, I was “late” to this clergy thing.  I’m what they call “second career”.  And on this second Sunday of Advent in 2001, I gave my first sermon.  I was asked to step in at FUMC, Fulshear, where my then-mentor was serving, while she was out of town.  Truthfully, I had no idea what I was doing.  I hadn’t taken a preaching course yet, so, basically, I was just making stuff up.  And the Scripture for the day was this…John the Baptist.  Most people, if they’re given the chance, choose the Good Samaritan story or the Woman at the Well or even The Prodigal Son as their first sermon, things they can easily overly-romanticize into feel-good messages.  But, no, I get John the Baptist!

We all know the story.  He was the son of Mary’s cousin, Elizabeth.  So, he is Jesus’ cousin (or maybe his second cousin) And he is quite the character.  He is a wild wilderness of a man donned in animal skins and a leather belt.  And he eats locusts and wild honey.  And he is REALLY LOUD.  He is always shouting to his hearers to repent and to prepare for the coming of the Lord.  And he baptized them.

Yeah, he’s loud and he’s brash and he doesn’t pay attention to the dress code and what do you do with him?  You listen.  Because, off putting though he may have been, he really did get it right.  He just didn’t fit into our ideal form of what an evangelist should be.  When I gave that sermon, my parents came.  It was 2001.  We had just gone into Afghanistan.  And my dad took the description of John the Baptist and imagined John Walker Lindh, that American that joined the Taliban and was arrested in November of 2001.  So now I can never imagine John the Baptist as anything else.  Like I said, he was wild and bizarre.  And he was Jesus’ cousin.

So, in that sermon, I didn’t get anything wrong.  I mean, John was wild and brash but he was also faithful.  He understood his mission.  He understood what he was called to do. In her book, Called to Question, Joan Chittister tells a Sufi tale of disciples who, when the death of their master was clearly imminent, became totally bereft.  “If you leave us, Master,” they pleaded, “how will we know what to do?”  And the Master replied, “I am nothing but a finger pointing at the moon.  Perhaps when I am gone you will see the moon.”  I think that was what John understood.  He never put himself out there as some sort of evangelist.  He was the forerunner, the one who came before.  He was the finger pointing at the moon.

I actually didn’t get any of that first sermon wrong.  I just didn’t finish it.  We can talk all we want to about John.  But the truth is, John’s story is not just about John.  It’s also about us and how we’re called to be like John (well, maybe without the locusts!).  It’s about what we’re called to do.  As John was waiting on the world to change, he stepped out.  He stepped forward and he spoke.  It wasn’t always accepted.  I mean, he was loud and brash and often off putting.  But he understood what he was called to do—to be a finger pointing at the moon, to point to what was coming, to point to what would be. 

So, here we are…waiting on the world to change.  We are called to glean our mission from John.  We are called to speak, to step out, to point the world to the change that God calls us to do.  John wasn’t just a cousin; he was the finger pointing at the moon, the forerunner to the Messiah, the Savior of the World. 

Something better’s coming
Just you wait and see
Something better’s coming
It’s your job to believe
May not be what you wanted
But always what you need
Something better’s coming
Just you wait and see

To every mother’s daughter
To every father’s son
It may look like it’s over
And the other side has won
But, if there’s any truth to
The greatest prophecy
Something better’s coming
Just you wait and see

Oh, we’ll be dancing on the water
Yeah, where the music has no end
There’ll be no lost and no forgotten
There’ll be no us versus them

So, are you ready? Are you ready?
Are you ready? Are you, people?
Yeah, are you ready? Are you ready?
Are you ready? Are you, people?
Oh, are you ready? Are you ready?
Are you ready? Are you, people?
Won’t you tell me now
Yeah, are you ready? Are you ready?
Are you ready? Are you, people?

Oh, ooh ooh hoo, ooh ooh hoo
Oh, ooh ooh hoo, ooh ooh hoo

And I know it’s easy for our hearts to harden
But, that’s exactly what they want us to do
We’ve got to keep the vessel open
So, the love can keep pouring through

Yeah, ’til we’re dancing on the water
Where the music has no end
There’ll be no lost and no forgotten
There’ll be no us versus them

Oh, we’ll be dancing on the water
Yeah, where the music has no end
There’ll be no lost and no forgotten
No more original sin
No, no, no

Yeah, are you ready? Are you ready?
Are you ready? Are you, people?
Yeah, are you ready? Are you ready, people?
Oh, are you ready? Are you ready?
Are you ready? Are you, people?
Tell me now
Yeah, are you ready? Are you ready?
Are you ready? Are you, people, people?

Oh, ooh ooh hoo, ooh ooh hoo
Oh, ooh ooh hoo, ooh ooh hoo
Yeah
Ooh ooh hoo, ooh ooh hoo
Yeah
Ooh ooh hoo, ooh ooh hoo

Something better’s coming
Just you wait and see

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Darrell Brown / LeAnn Rimes

something better’s coming lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

There’s Always Hope

So, we’re still here even as we journey through this Advent season.  We’re still here waiting on the world to change.  But bad news keeps coming.  People keep hurting each other and taking from each other and not listening to each other.  We keep destroying each other.  And, yes, we keep trying to find the things that need to be changed.  We keep waiting for that change.  And then Paul tells us to abound in hope.  Sure, we’ll get right on that!

Hope is one of those words that we throw around a lot.  “Hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ love and righteousness.”  Just have hope.  Always have hope.  But what is it?  We seldom talk about WHAT it is; we just say that we’re supposed to have it. So, we hope against hope that things will change.  (And, I guess, we hope against hope that we’ll have hope, whatever that may be.)

Paul frames this passage around what he sees sparks hope.  Our hope, according to him, begins in the past.  It begins with what is written in the Scriptures, the stories, the history, the acts of faith.  OK, I guess that’s a good enough beginning but it still doesn’t really tell us what it is.  I mean, it would be really easy if hope came in some sort of ancient bottle that Barbara Eden would come out of in a cloud of pink smoke in a genie costume and grant our every wish.  No, wait, that’s wishing.  That’s not hope.  Maybe it’s what we imagine for the future, the “perfect future” that is in our dreams.  No, that’s dreaming.  That’s not hope.  Emily Dickinson said that “hope is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all—”  (Pretty, but is it helpful?  I mean, it sounds like it’s going to fly away at any moment.) Dante wrote of hell as the abandonment of hope. (Well, that’s dark!) William Sloane Coffin said that “if faith puts us on the road, hope keeps us there.” (Closer…)

The truth is, hope is not just wishing that things would change.  Hope has to do with rising to the challenge before us.  Hope is participation in God’s work.  Hope means saying “yes” to going forward, abounding, as Paul said, in hope by the power of the holy spirit.  Soren Kirkegaard defines hope as the “passion for the possible”.  That passion is what prompts us to hope not for things to be “fixed”, not for things to be easier, certainly not for some sort of lost Garden of Eden in our lives when we remember that things were better.  Hope opens the door to what’s ahead and pulls us toward it, pulls us into it.

In a 2008 interview with Matthew Felling of WMAU radio in Washington, D.C., Dr. Gordon Livingston said that the greatest enemy of hope is nostalgia.  He said that “it tricks people into believing that their best days are past.”  (Which is why, I guess, there are so many people right now that dream of returning to what was and, dare I say, what will never be again.)  He went on to say that “A more realistic view of history envisions the past as a theater of experience, some good and some bad, and opens up the possibility of growth and change. Our best days are ahead, not behind. Hope for the future.” I think that’s what Paul was trying to say.  Hope is here, here for the taking.  It is grounded in the past, in what we know. But hope is what goes forward.  Hope is what makes us keep walking.  Hope is what allows our faith to become realistic, gives us something to grab hold of.  Hope is what enables us to look up and see what is just ahead.  Abound in hope.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Just a Little Shoot

As we’ve many times noted, this season of Advent is a practice in visioning.  It is a time of looking toward what “shall” be (as the use of the word “shall” appears at least sixteen times in today’s Scripture).  It gives us something to look toward, something for which we can purposefully and intentionally wait.  It gives us something to hang onto when the storms toss us about.

And, yet, this passage is set in a time not unlike our own.  The people fear they are losing their way, fear that their world is changing into something that they will no longer recognize, fear that it is all slipping away.  And there, there in the midst of the pain and the uncertainty, in the midst of hopes cut off and loss and despair prevailing, in the midst of empires threatening and power wrecking, God comes to sit with us in the season.  And we are given a vision, a vision of a different way, a vision of righteousness and equity and faithfulness and peace, a vision of what shall be.  There is no promise given that the nation would rise again.  Things are not going to return to the way they were.  Time and space will never sync enough for that to happen.  That never happens.  But the prophet’s vision includes a shoot, a tiny shoot that will appear.  The shoot will not become a mighty cedar.  It will not overtake the earth.  Rather, the shoot will begin what shall be.

A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse.  It will be fragile yet tenacious.  It will grow where no one ever thought it would.  It will push back the stone and become life.  It will rise up and be anew.  That shoot, that tiny shoot that many are sometimes tempted to cut down and clear away, contains everything.  In it is the very DNA, the written story, of what God envisions for Creation.  That shoot contains our story.  That shoot contains your story.

What will you do to tend to this seed, this fledgling shoot?  What will you do as it grows and strengthens?  We often talk about ourselves as the harvesters, those that help bring God’s vision to be.  But in this Advent time, we are called to be those who care and tend, those who see this shoot even as the world around us is often filled with weeds and despair.  Do you see it?  It’s there…there on the dead stump, just beginning to grow.  Life is pushing through.  It is yours, your story, your life.

Lyrics

Song Like A Seed (Sara Thomsen)

Ay, what to sing about in these days
What rhyme or melody, turn of phrase?
What is your story now, where is your gaze?
Ay, what to sing about in these days

Towers are tumbling, tumbling down
Fortresses fumbling, crumbling crowns
Governments grumbling, as they drown
Towers are tumbling, tumbling down

Plant your song like a seed
Hold your heart like a prayer bead
Give your breath like a tree
Set your soul’s deep love free

I know a woman who walks and prays
Follows the river’s old rambling ways
Eagle flies over and butterflies play
Watching the warrior walk and pray

What is your story now, where is your heart?
This is a one-act play, what’s your part?
In every ending there’s some new start
What is your story now, where is your heart?

Plant your song like a seed
Hold your heart like a prayer bead
Give your breath like a tree
Set your soul’s deep love free

There is a garden that grows at night
Then in the winter it tucks in tight
Drifts off in dreams about birds in flight
That carry the seeds of this garden’s life

Ay, what to sing about in these days
What rhyme or melody, turn of phrase?
What is your story now, where is your gaze?
Ay, what to sing about in these days

© 2018 Sara Thomsen

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Within

So, we’re four days into Advent, four days into waiting on the world to change, and, as far as I can tell, there have not been any huge changes made.  I mean, wouldn’t it be wonderful if this was the year, if this was the season, when peace came to be?  Wouldn’t it be grand if this was when people began to recognize that each of us is a child of God?  Wouldn’t it be terrific if this was when poverty and hunger and racism and xenophobia and gun violence and global warming and all those things that clutter our world were resolved?  Wouldn’t it be the most incredible thing if all of us could lay down our weapons and our power and our need to preserve the status quo?  Wouldn’t it be something if we didn’t have to wait anymore for the world to change?  What if we discovered that we really were standing within your gates?

But we all know better.  There is so much that needs to change, so much that needs to happen before the Kingdom of God, the vision that God intended all along for us comes to be in its fullness.  And so, we wait.  And, today, we’re given this psalm.  It is a “Song of Ascents”.  It describes the pilgrim throng entering the “house of the Lord”.  It’s the invitation.  Let us go to the house of the Lord.  It is the eternal peace, that vision that we’ve been talking about.  It is the Kingdom of God in its fullness. 

Advent is indeed a season of waiting.  But it is also a season of imagining.  It is a season of beginning the ascent.  It is the season when we journey to the House of the Lord.  And in this way, our waiting, our waiting for the world to change, begins with us.  For within us, is that peace.  Within us, is that vision that God holds for us all.  The waiting on the world to change begins within us.  It begins with us imagining it and journeying toward it.  Our feet are indeed standing within your gates, O Jerusalem.  Peace be within you.  It’s right there….

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Armor of Light

Waiting is all about timing.  It is about knowing when to wait, when to awake, and when to start moving forward.  So, Paul tells us to lay the works of darkness aside and put on the armor of light and, well, start moving.  I actually find that a rather odd notion—an armor of light.  What exactly is that?  After all, an armor is solid, deflecting, a protective shield against that which comes against it.  Honestly, sometimes I find the military language a bit off putting, as if we are somehow taking those wonders of faith and pulling them down into our secular language, the language of empire.

But, remember, this was written right in the middle of an empire to people who lived in and were subjects of that empire.  It was what they understood.  Think about it.  You know all those military soldiers that you see so often, the ones that are marching for the emperor through the streets of Rome and its subject cities?  Think about the armor they wear.  And don an armor that is different.  Because God’s entry into the world in the form of Jesus Christ did not affirm and ratify the empire.  In fact, it was inherently ANTI-earthly empire.  The coming of Christ was the beginning of the end of the earthly empires. 

In its place, we were given a vision of a New Kingdom, a Kingdom where peace reigns, where poverty is filled, where the excluded are welcomed, and where we all stand together.  It’s not a pipe dream.  It’s that armor of light that Paul told us to don.  But it’s not an armor that protects us or hides us; it’s an armor that we become.  And that is what we are called to do now, even in the midst of this earthly empire—to become light, to reflect light.

Imagine looking into a dark sky away from the city lights, a sky filled with stars.  But they’re not covering the sky.  Darkness is still there, still prevalent.  But the stars peek through as if someone punched pinholes into the sky mass—just enough for the light to get through.  And that is where we come in, we, the armor-wearing reflectors of the light of God shining into the world as we imagine God continuing to punch those pinholes into the darkness. 

But if you remember your astronomy lessons, some of that light has taken hundreds of thousands of years to get to us.  The Light has already shined into our midst.  But sometimes it takes us awhile to see it.  But it’s as near as what we see.  Yes, waiting is about timing.  We are waiting for us to catch up to the Light.  So, this is the moment when we must awake from sleep and start looking toward the light.  The Kingdom of God is coming to be.  It is happening as fast we can see.  So, open your eyes.  It’s there.

Lyrics:  “We Shall Be Free” (Garth Brooks)

This ain’t comin’ from no prophet
Just an ordinary man
When I close my eyes
The way this world shall be
When we all walk hand in hand

When the last child cries for a crust of bread
When the last man dies for just words that he said
When there’s shelter over the poorest head
Then we shall be free, yeah

When the last thing we notice is the color of skin
And the first thing we look for is the beauty within
When the skies and the oceans are clean again
Then we shall be free

We shall be free, we shall be free
Stand straight and walk proud
‘Cause we shall be free

When we’re free to love anyone we choose
When this world’s big enough for all different views
When we all can worship from our own kind of pew
Then we shall be free, yeah (oh, oh, oh)

We shall be free, we shall be free
Have a little faith, hold out
‘Cause we shall be free

And when money talks for the very last time
And nobody walks a step behind
When there’s only one race
And that’s mankind, then we shall be free

We shall be free, we shall be free
Stand straight (walk proud)
Have a little faith (hold out)
We shall be free (oh, oh, oh)
We shall be free, we shall be free
(Stand straight) stand straight
(Have a little faith) walk proud
‘Cause we shall be free (oh, oh, oh)

We shall be free, we shall be free
Stand straight, walk proud
‘Cause we shall be free (oh, oh, oh)
(We shall be free)

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Stephanie Davis / Troyal Brooks

We Shall Be Free lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Expecting a Peaceable Kingdom

Notice the tenses in today’s reading.  The word “shall” is used (if I counted correctly) ten times.  The prophet is giving us a vision of what is to come, something that is not here yet but something that we can expect.  Expectations are important in this Waiting Season.  If our waiting is not accompanied by expectations, then we’re really just sort of hanging around until whatever comes next.  But that’s not what we’re called to do.  We’re called to Holy Expectation, to envisioning what the world around could be.  Because, you see, that’s the only way that it happens.  God gave us a vision so that we could expect it and work toward it.  God gave us a vision so that we could journey toward it all the while living as if it is already here.

I know it’s hard.  Our world is sometimes spinning so fast, throwing off things that we don’t even think we can survive.  How can we live as if God’s vision is here?  How can we expect that vision to survive what we’re going through now?  I must honestly confess that I feel like we’ve gone backwards a bit, that we’ve lost some ground in realizing the Peaceable Kingdom.  And it makes it really, really hard to live as if God’s vision is here.  I see a rise in racism and xenophobia.  I see an increased level of violence.  And I see a society and a world that is in many ways closing its eyes to what is going on.  We can’t do that.  We have to envision that Peaceable Kingdom.  We have to expect that change in the world around us.  We have to believe it will happen—because that’s what our faith tells us.

Think about when this was written.  The world was constantly at war. They were stupid wars over stupid things, arguments over who had what land and who had what resources. People did not trust each other. Societies and ethnicities pulled into themselves and began to shut out those who were different.  They no longer trusted the “other”, the immigrant, those who were living in their midst because they had no place else to go.  They fought against those who thought differently, who worshipped differently, who lived differently.  Their first priority was themselves.  Their first thought was those who were like them.  Their vision of the world had shrunk to only what they could see, to only what made them comfortable.

And the prophet comes along and tells them to expect something different, to expect a world where wars subside and people come together.  It was a Kingdom that was there for the taking, for the imagining.  It was a Kingdom that we should dare to expect will happen.  And then the prophet changes the tense of his writing.  Expect it.  And let us go—all of us, together—into the house of the Lord.

Lyrics:  “Do No Harm” (Carrie Newcomer)

John Roth had a heart like flame
He believed all souls were loved the same
He packed up his hopes and his family and moved to Ohio

There in the deep dark wilderness
With a newborn son he soon was blessed
Raised him up in the ways of the old prophets
Named him Isaiah Roth

Do no harm shed no blood the only law here is love
We can call the kingdom down here on earth
Beat your swords into plows don’t be afraid I’ll show you how
Lift your eyes to the skies all is holy here

The forest people soon came near his message to the red children clear
We can build the peaceable kingdom here in shadows of these trees

They planted oats and beans and maize
They planted their hearts in the dirt of that place
And they learned to speak of hope and grace
In the language of John Roth

Do no harm shed no blood the only law here is love
We can call the kingdom down here on earth
Beat your swords into plows don’t be afraid I’ll show you how
Lift your eyes to the skies all is holy here

When Isaiah Roth had just turned ten
He was working up in the loft again
He looked out and he saw eight white men
Come riding up that day
The men called out from the deepening glade
Saying y’all come on out an we can trade?

The forest people walked out unafraid with smiles and open hands
The white traders lifted up their guns
And shot them down each and every one
And the Eden that John Roth begun
Lay bleeding on the ground

Do no harm shed no blood the only law here is love
We can call the kingdom down here on earth
Beat your swords into plows don’t be afraid I’ll show you how
Lift your eyes to the skies all is holy here

Now the world has aged by fifty years
The Quakers came and settled near
Old Isaiah Roth still preaches here that the greatest law is love
Now some people say it’s all a scam just the ravings of some old man
But Isaiah Roth says he still can see Eden on the hill

Do no harm
Shed no blood
The only law here is love

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Carrie Newcomer / Carrie Ann Newcomer

Grace and Peace,

Shelli