Story

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

Chaos Theory

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(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

The Other Story

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(part of the “Waiting on the World to Change” Advent Series)

Matthew 1: 18-25 (Advent 4A)

18 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah* took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. 19Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. 20But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.’ 22All this took place to fulfil what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:
23 ‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
   and they shall name him Emmanuel’,
which means, ‘God is with us.’ 24When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, 25but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

So, here, we get the story of the annunciation.  Wait, didn’t we talk about the annunciation yesterday?  No, this is the OTHER one.  This is the other side of the story.  We’re guilty of skipping over it, this calling of Joseph.  I suppose it’s pretty easy.  After all, he doesn’t even talk.  We really know very little about him. We know he was from Nazareth, a sort of no-name town in Galilee.  We can surmise that he was a carpenter because Jesus is described as the son of a carpenter several times in Scripture.  And we know that he was engaged, or actually betrothed to Mary.  This is not like our engagement.  This was a marital contract.  It just wasn’t consummated.  They were not just dating.  But you know what?  Joseph had plans.  He had some idea laid out of how his life would go.  And, when you think about it, Joseph had to be hurt, probably even angry at Mary.  And then came the dream.  (What is it about Josephs and dreams?)

The writer known as Matthew is the only one that gives Joseph his moment.  But, interestingly enough, he doesn’t even get a chance to ask a question (like, “How can this be?”)  or voice his opinion or perhaps shake his fist in utter disbelief.  I don’t know if it’s the moment or the Scripture, but Joseph is somehow rendered speechless.  He’s not even given a small speaking role.  Instead, Joseph, who had apparently already decided what he was going to do (a plan that it should be noted in the face of the tradition was merciful and compassionate).  He was going to quietly dismiss her.  And, I suppose, Joseph would have faded into the pages of the story with no other mention.  Perhaps Mary could have gotten help from her cousins.  They probably would have put her up.  And Jesus and John would have grown up like brothers.  It could have all worked out, but a better story was waiting.  Because in this moment, Joseph is handed a dream.

It was apparently a wild fit of a dream.  I mean, the Lord came.  That cannot have been a comfortable situation.  And, true to form, God tells him not to be afraid.  “Oh, no,” Joseph thought, “I have read this before.  When the Lord tells you not to be afraid, things tend to happen–things like the floor of your world on which your standing giving way and you falling uncontrollably into something that you never imagined and for which you certainly could never have planned.  Hold on!”  And the Lord hands him a story that doesn’t even make sense.  Joseph is being asked to step back into the story.  And oh, what a story it has become.  Joseph is being asked to raise the child that IS the Messiah.  Joseph is being asked to love him and guide him and discipline him (Good grief, how do you discipline a Messiah?  I mean, does he get like some sort of Divine time out?)  Joseph is even told what to name the child—Emmanuel, “God With Us”.

Well, I’m betting that Joseph’s first thought when he awoke was that he had eaten some bad lamb or something.  He probably laid there for a few minutes processing it all.  I mean, remember, the verses before the ones we read remind us that Joseph was descended from a long line of dreamers.  In fact, old Grandpa Jacob (like 34 “greats” ago) had fought back, wrestling until the break of day!  Remember that?  And then Joseph got up and moved out of the way and followed.  He had plans.  He had a reputation to think of.  He had a face that he had to present to the temple.  He had a life.  But Joseph moved aside and fell speechless.  And then, and then God gave him his voice.

The 20th century theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer who died for speaking out about the Nazi regime, once said that “We have become so accustomed to the idea of divine love and of God’s coming at Christmas that we no longer feel the shiver of fear that God’s coming should arouse in us.  We are indifferent to the message, taking only the pleasant and agreeable out of it and forgetting the serious aspect, that the God of the world draws near to the people of our little earth and lays claim to us.  The coming of God is truly not only glad tidings, but first of all frightening news for everyone who has a conscience.”[i]

Lays claim to us…This Scripture makes us realize that God’s coming into the world did not just involve God, an angel, and Mary.  Joseph was there too, as were all of those who came before and all of those (including us) who came after.  God’s coming is not just the birth of a baby in a pretty nativity story; God’s coming is the way that God lays claim on us.  God’s coming is the way that God turns all of our lives upside down.  God’s coming is the way that the story changes.

The truth is, there was a story.  And Joseph had written some of his chapters in not realizing that they didn’t lead to the vision that God had in mind.  When I was in seminary, I was privileged to be a part of a small group of students (there were maybe thirty of us) that had a wonderful conversation with John Irving (the author of “A Prayer for Owen Meany”, “The Cider House Rules”, and “The World According to Garp”).  Someone asked what was probably an expected question:  How do you craft your stories?  The answer was probably not as expected.  John Irving said that he always writes the end of the story first and then fleshes out the plot and the characters and the themes to get to that ending.

Don’t you think that’s what God has done?  God has this vision for what the world should be.  And along the way, God calls and comforts and cajoles to coax us toward that ending.  The early chapters are not written.  That’s up to us.  But the ending is the very vision of God.  So, God called Joseph.  Joseph had a story.  He was writing it.  And when he was called, he changed it.  What about us?  We are waiting on the world to change.  What if that vision has already been written?  What if the way we get there, the way the world changes, is us?  What if the change is not the ending but the way the story plays out?  What if our calling is to write a better story?

Home is where your story begins. (Anne Danielson)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

[i] From “The Coming of Jesus in our Midst”, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in Watch for the Light:  Readings for Advent and Christmas, December 21

Sent

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Scripture Text: Mark 6:1-13 (Proper 9B)

He left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. 2On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! 3Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. 4Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” 5And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. 6And he was amazed at their unbelief.

Then he went about among the villages teaching. 7He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 8He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 9but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 10He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 11If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” 12So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. 13They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

This story is told in all four Gospels, so it must have been seen as important.  It must be a story to which we should listen.  The truth was that Jesus wasn’t seen as a prophet or a Messiah by this crowd.  He was just one of them, this little kid that had made good and of whom they were very proud.  This was the kid that they had helped raise.  They probably thought that his ministry would be a reflection on them.  But Jesus was going off-script, so to speak.  And when they looked at him, they did not see a reflection of what they were expecting but a dim view of something that was a tad unfamiliar.  Jesus was standing there, calling them to change, calling them to look at things differently, to step out of their carefully constructed boxes and away from their earthly temples of who they thought they should be and actually become the people of God. So, who did he think he was?  God?

And then he called the disciples and sent them out.  Now, truthfully, they were already “called”.  That had already happened.  This was the sending.  This was the place where he gives them the authority to go out and BE his disciples. And, if you read a little farther, he tells them not to take any food or 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.  Maybe no one will ever get through.  Maybe they’re just locked into their own preconceived notion of who God is and who they should be.   Jesus essentially tells them not to worry about it.  Do what you can because that’s what you’re there to do.  Just let it go.  Your mission is to bring healing and reconciliation to those who need it.  Your mission is to tell the story.

You know what Jesus DOESN’T say?  (I am fascinated by this idea…maybe what Jesus doesn’t say is just as important as what he does!)  Surprisingly, he doesn’t tell them what to say to people.  He doesn’t give them a prescribed set of Biblical interpretations or some pre-ordained “orthodox” theological premise.  He gives them no notes, no reading hints, and no check-off list of beliefs that they are supposed to accept and espouse.  He gives them no bulletin or video screen to prompt their words.  He doesn’t give them some bizarre 1-minute “elevator speech” to convert someone to the faith while they’re flying between Floor 1 and Floor 4.  (I’m sorry.  That was always an odd concept to me.  I actually think starting a faith journey is a lot more substantive than a 1-minute elevator ride.  But that’s just me.)  Instead, Jesus tells them to proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God.  He sends them out to tell the story—to anybody, to everybody, to whomever they encounter who will listen.  And he tells them to adapt, to be nimble.  He reminds them that it’s not about them or what they think.  It’s about the good news.  It’s about God.  And he leaves room for them to wrestle with their own understanding.

I know.  “Adaptable” and “nimble” are not the first words that come to your mind when you’re talking about our faith.  They are certainly not the primary words used to describe the church.  But maybe they should be.  What if faith is not, after all, a fortress?  What if belief is not intended to be rigid or staid? What if our theological understandings actually grew?  (Goodness, mine have!) What if our faith means openness to change, openness to the newness that God offers us?  What if our faith was adaptable to that change?  What if our faith grew into something we never imagined because we were open to it?  What if our next crisis of faith, our next crisis of the church, made us recognize the way that God had turned our path just a bit?  What if we went out into the world as God’s disciples to tell the story, to invite, to gather, rather than to convert?

So, the picture on the left is an image of the Choluteca Bridge over the Choluteca River in Honduras.  It was built in the 1930’s by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and it’s an important bridge on a very busy road called the Panamericana.  The picture on the right is the same bridge after Hurricane Mitch in 1998.  Now, contrary to your first thought, no, the hurricane did not do anything to the bridge.  The bridge is fine.  The hurricane moved the river.  (Oh my!) Adaptable and nimble…things happen, things out of our control.  But our faith tells us that God will turn our paths toward the new river.  But if we don’t listen, we will find ourselves on a bridge to nowhere.

Faith and belief and religious expression are messy.  Jesus knew that.  I think he also knew that they change.  They grow.  Sometimes they even shrink.  That’s why we’re sent out—to keep telling the story.  The words will change.  The people will change.  Churches will change.  (They grow, they split, they regroup, they rediscover who they are…looking at you United Methodists!  It’s all OK.)  Sometimes even the river will move.  But, most of all, WE will change. And God will walk with us through the bends and curves and speed bumps that we find.  If someone doesn’t want to hear us, it is not our job to ram it down their throat.  There is someone else that has the words they will hear.  Let it go.  Faith is not about rules or prescribed beliefs or, of all things, laws and politics.  Faith is about a story.  Just tell the story.  Tell it from your heart.  It’s there.

Jesus told the disciples he sent out to take nothing with them, to travel light.  It was so they weren’t weighed down and tempted to stay where they were.  We could take a valuable lesson from that.  It’s hard but sometimes we need to be more open to change.  Because this world that God created is always changing, always growing, always alive.  There’s sort of a wildness to it, not to be tamed or fixed, but to be embraced and entered.  We are called to go out into the world and change it.  But, more importantly, we are called to move to where God is leading us and allow ourselves to be changed.  Our traditions and our theological understandings and our beliefs and our religions are not theories.  They simply give us the words to tell the story and the story is God’s.  So they went out.  And we are called to do the same.

“Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.” (G.K. Chesterton)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

The Story of Light

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Scripture Text: Luke 2: 1-14 (Christmas Eve)

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3All went to their own towns to be registered. 4Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. 

8In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

It’s finally here, this night of nights.  The Light for which we’ve waited and journeyed toward peers into the darkness and the world is changed forever.  We love this story.  Most of us could probably recite it from memory.  And, yet, the story may not be EXACTLY the way we think.  It’s not like there was someone with a video camera following them around that night.  Only two of the canonical Gospel writers even tell the story and they tell it very differently.  The non-canonical Gospel According to James tells it in more detail but the birth takes place in some sort of cave.  (But, in all honesty, where did you actually read about a stable?)  The same account also brings in a midwife, which, when you think about it, makes a whole lot of sense.  So, no, I’m not trying to tear down your much-beloved story.  The truth is, it’s not about the story; it’s about the birth.  It’s also about the Light.  It’s about the Light of God coming into the world, however that may have happened.

This is the story of Light.  It’s the Light that has always been there, the light that was created so long ago.  It’s the light that led people home over and over again.  But it was always a light that was hidden in a cloud or shrouded on a mountain or even set in the promise of a bow in the clouds.  But this night, this story, tells of Light not shining onto the earth but coming into the earth, mingling with us and giving us life.  This is the night that our story becomes the story of Light.

The Bible is not about people trying to get to God or get to the Light; it’s about the story, the story of God.  And this part of it, this chapter that we read and relive tonight, this holy night is not the climax of the story; it is a new chapter, a new beginning.  19th century American author and pastor Henry Van Dyke once asked “And now that this story is told, what does it mean?  How can I tell?  What does life mean?”  And then he answered himself by saying, “If the meaning could be put into a single sentence, there would be no need of telling the story.”

This is the night of the story of God coming out of the darkness and out of the shadows and showing us what we could not see before.  The Light is beginning to dawn.  It’s not a new light.  But this time, the heavens themselves spilled into the earth so that the story would become ours.  This is the story of Light.  It’s also the story of us.  So, what comes next?  Go into the Light…and follow God to write your story.

To be continued…

I cannot create the light. The best I can do is put myself in the path of its beam.  (Annie Dillard) 

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli

Made Flesh

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Scripture Passage:  John 1: 1-14

1In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2He was in the beginning with God. 3All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. 6There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. 8He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. 9The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. 10He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. 11He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, 13who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. 14And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

The Word became flesh.  Think about it.  God’s Spirit, God’s breath, the Hebrew language refers to it as ruah, the very essence and being of God was suddenly given flesh and bone and cartilage and hands and feet and all those very human things that we humans require to be here on earth.  In other words, the Divine became human, if only for a while.  That tells us that God does not desire a partner, or a relative, or a close friend.  God desires to live with each of us as one of us.  The miracle of Christmas is not just that God came, although that would be miracle enough.  The miracle of Christmas is that God takes on flesh. 

In The Message paraphrase of the Bible, Eugene Peterson says that “The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.”  That’s actually a little disconcerting when you think about it.  That means that you’ll see God when you’re out walking your dog or getting your mail.  It means that you’ll run into God in the grocery store when you’re in a terrible hurry and don’t have time. It means that God will show up at your door when the house is a wreck and you are least expecting visitors.

As the Scripture says, in the beginning was God and in the end will be God and in between?  In between, God is with us.  In between, God is one of us.  In between, is us.  That is the very mystery of Christmas.  So what do we do then with a God who is with us?  God is not limited to this sanctuary or to the places in our lives where we’ve sort of cleaned up a bit.  God comes into place of darkness and places of light.  God comes into profound poverty and into gated communities.  God is with us every step of our lives.  God is one of us in our flesh and our bone.  God has moved in.

So, now it’s our move.  I suppose we could just pick up the Christmas decorations and put them back in the box for another year.  I suppose we could just go back to whatever we define as our normal lives.  But the problem is that God is with us.  God lives with us, here, in the neighborhood.  Everywhere we turn, we will meet God—over and over and over again.  And once you’ve met God, you can’t go back to the way it was before.

The problem with God is not that God comes at times that might be a little inconvenient for us; the problem with God is that God never goes away.  God is all over us.  That first Christmas was God’s unveiling, God’s coming out of the darkness and the shadows and showing us what we could not see before.  God poured the Divine into the lowliest of humanity, into a dirty animal stall, and began to pick us up so we could walk with God. 

And we are asked to follow.  We are asked to become something new.  We are asked to now become the very reflection of the God that is here everywhere.  Thomas Merton once said that “the Advent mystery is the beginning of the end in all of us that is not yet Christ.”  It’s Christmas.  Now is the time.  Let us go see this thing that has happened.

God is closer to me than I am to myself. (Meister Eckhart)

Thank you for joining me on this Advent journey!  I hope it gave you some hope and some light in this very-hard time in which we live right now.  Now I’m going to take just a small break.  BUT…I’m back in  practice, so I’m going to try to continue (but not every day!).  I’ll continue to post at least once a week around the Lectionary passages and maybe sometimes you’ll get an extra post in a week if I just have something else to say! SO, look for a post Sunday morning or earlier for the Sunday after Christmas and then a post for Epiphany Sunday early next week and that will be our plan for now.  Thanks again for joining me! Have a wonderful Christmas! 

Merry Christmas!

Shelli

What It’s All About

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resurrection-lightEarly on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. 2So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”… 

 11But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; 12and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. 13They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” 14When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” 16Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). 17Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” 18Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her. (John 20: 1-2, 11-18)

These hours have been such a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.  But in this moment, I am beginning to see what it was all about.  I want to hold her and comfort her and explain it all but Jesus’ young friend Mary is running around with a mix of hysteria and excitement.  Maybe she, too, is beginning to understand.  I always knew who he was, knew from that surreal night when the angel came.  I probably would have thought I was losing it but Joseph had had a dream too.   Oh, that seems so long ago and yet, I remember it like it happened just a second ago. No one really understood.  No one ever understood.  But we did.  We knew who he was.  But not until this moment did I really grasp it.

I hope that the world does not take this as a do-over of some sort.  Because it is all part of it—everything up to this moment and everything that comes to be.  All of time and all of space and all creation points to this and is illuminated by it.  All of those generations that carried the story to me and the generations that stretch out beyond where I will ever see are in this moment.  I now understand that that strange brilliance that led us to Bethlehem and then stayed with us through the night that he was born has been with me always.  And he showed me that.  But I didn’t understand until now.

The memories come flooding back to me now—more than three decades of memories.  They will take several days to process.  But now they are not memories wrapped in grief.  I understand that they are the story—his story, my story, Joseph’s story, the world’s story.  God came into the world and walked with me.  God invited me to dance with the Divine, to touch, to love, to hold the Godself.  There was nothing special about me.  I have always been so ordinary.  But now I see that my life is an incredible mix of the ordinary and the sacred.  God has come.  And now I understand that God was always here.  And will be forevermore. “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.  Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed.”  I do feel blessed.  I pray that the world will begin to understand.

There was, indeed, something I had missed about Christianity, and now all of a sudden I could see what it was.  It was the Resurrection!  How could I have been a church historian and a person of prayer who loved God and still not known that the most fundamental Christian reality is not the suffering of the cross but the life it brings?…The foundation of the universe for which God made us, to which God draws us, and in which God keeps us is not death, but joy.  (Roberta Bondi)

FOR TODAY:  Begin to make room.  There’s more to the story than you thought.

Peace to you in this often-hectic week,

Shelli