Rambles

Una Canción Nueva: Mark 10:11-12

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“He said to them, ‘Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if a wife divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.’ ”

Mark 10:11-12, Common English Bible

In October we remember Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I am reading and reflecting on both my experiences and the thoughts of others about domestic violence during this month. This action is important to me as a survivor of domestic violence.

In the past, when I thought about divorced people, I didn’t understand that a divorced person is a person who needs to be loved. I didn’t understand how much pain a person could feel when life separated them from their spouse. The pain is horrible. I didn’t understand and read Jesus’ words without compassion.

When I read Jesus’ words today, I understand that Jesus rarely spoke about life in order to teach people to help bring harsher laws into their lives. Divorced people need compassion and Jesus wanted people to avoid grief and sorrow.

When I think about these words today, I have compassion for divorced people, including myself. I needed physical, spiritual, and mental security that I didn’t have. Jesus loves me and would be glad that I chose to live when I wanted to crawl into a hole forever.

«El que se divorcia de su esposa y se casa con otra, comete adulterio contra la primera —respondió—. Y si la mujer se divorcia de su esposo y se casa con otro, comete adulterio.»

Marcos 10:11-12, Nueva Versión Internacional

En Octubre recordamos el mes de concientización sobre la violencia doméstica. Estoy leyendo y reflexionando sobre ambas mis experiencias y los pensamientos de otra sobre violencia doméstica durante este mes. Esta acción es importante para mi como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica.

En el pasado, cuando pensaba sobre personas divorciadas, no entendí que una persona divorciada es una persona que necesita que se ame. No entendí cuánto dolor una persona podía sentirse cuando la vida lo separaba de su parido.  El dolor es horrible. No entendí y leí las palabras de Jesús sin compasión.

Cuando leo las palabras de Jesús hoy, entiendo que Jesús hablaba raramente sobre la vida para enseñar a las personas a ayudar traer leyes más crueles en sus vidas. Las personas divorciadas necesitan compasión y Jesús quería que las personas evitaran el duelo y la pena. 

Cuando pienso sobre estas palabras hoy, tengo compasión por la gente divorciada, incluyendo a mí. Necesitaba seguridad física, espiritual, y mental que no tenía. Jesús me ama y estaría contento de que yo elija vivir cuando fuí a querer meterme en un agujero para siempre.

Una Canción Nueva: Psalm 26:1-8

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“Establish justice for me, LORD, because I have walked with integrity. I’ve trusted the LORD without wavering. Examine me, LORD; put me to the test! Purify my mind and my heart. Because your faithful love is right in front of me– I walk in your truth! I don’t spend time with people up to no good; I don’t keep company with liars. I detest the company of evildoers, and I don’t sit with wicked people. I wash my hands–they are innocent! I walk all around your altar, LORD, proclaiming out loud my thanks, declaring all your wonderful deeds! I love the beauty of your house, LORD; I love the place where your glory resides.” Psalm 26:1-8, Common English Bible

In October we remember Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I am reading and reflecting on both my experiences and the thoughts of others about domestic violence during this month. This action is important to me as a survivor of domestic violence.

One problem with situations where people are engaged in domestic violence is the silence about people who are survivors of domestic violence. We see the people who commit violence and work to bring justice, but we forget about the survivors who die every day in their thoughts.

I like the psalms because they say that the Lord saw, sees, and will see that the world needs justice. The Lord does not forget the survivors who heard cruel lies, were beaten, and will need years for healing.

Hazme justicia, SEÑOR, pues he llevado una vida intachable; ¡en el SEÑOR confío sin titubear! Examíname, SEÑOR; ¡ponme a prueba! purifica mis entrañas y mi corazón. Tu gran amor lo tengo presente, y siempre ando en tu verdad. Yo no convivo con los mentirosos, ni me junto con los hipócritas; aborrezco la compañía de los malvados; no cultivo la amistad de los perversos. Con manos limpias e inocentes camino, SEÑOR, en torno a tu altar, proclamando en voz alta tu alabanza y contando todas tus maravillas. SEÑOR, yo amo la casa donde vives, el lugar donde reside tu gloria.» Salmo 26:1-8, Nueva Versión Internacional

En Octubre recordamos el mes de concientización sobre la violencia doméstica. Estoy leyendo y reflexionando sobre ambas mis experiencias y los pensamientos de otra sobre violencia doméstica durante este mes. Esta acción es importante para mi como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica.

Un problema con situaciones cuando personas haciendo con violencia doméstica es el silencio sobre las personas que son sobrevivientes de violencia doméstica. Vemos a las personas que hacen violencia y trabajamos para traer justicia, pero olvidamos a los sobrevivientes que mueren todos los días en sus pensamientos.

Me gustan los salmos porque dicen que el Señor vio, ve, y verá que el mundo necesita justicia. El Señor no olvida las sobrevivientes que escucharon mentiras crueles, fueron golpeadas, y necesitarán anos por curación. 

Una Canción Nueva: Job 2:4-9

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The Adversary responded to the LORD, “Skin for skin–people will give up everything they have in exchange for their lives. But stretch out your hand and strike his bones and flesh. Then he will definitely curse you to your face.” The LORD answered the Adversary, “There he is–within your power; only preserve his life.” The test intensifies The Adversary departed from the LORD’s presence and struck Job with severe sores from the sole of his foot to the top of his head. Job took a piece of broken pottery to scratch himself and sat down on a mound of ashes. Job’s wife said to him, “Are you still clinging to your integrity? Curse God, and die.” Job 2:4-9, Common English Bible

In October we remember Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I am reading and reflecting on both my experiences and the thoughts of others about domestic violence during this month. This action is important to me as a survivor of domestic violence.

The story of Job is a story with many difficult parts. The story asks us to believe that the Lord chose to talk to Satan about a very good man named Job. The Lord chose to allow Job to experience many very bad things.

Among the terrible things that the Lord allowed Job to do, Job’s wife reproached Job: “Do you still hold fast to your integrity? Curse God and die!”

Let’s get right to the point: It’s not cool when a person says those things to a person who has a lot of problems without those words. Those words are words of violence and cruelty. A wife who says those things doesn’t love her husband. A husband who says the same things doesn’t love his wife. No person who says those words doesn’t love the person on the receiving end.

—¡Una cosa por la otra! —replicó Satanás—. Con tal de salvar la vida, el hombre da todo lo que tiene. 5Pero extiende la mano y hiérelo, ¡a ver si no te maldice en tu propia cara! —Muy bien —dijo el SEÑOR a Satanás—, Job está en tus manos. Eso sí, respeta su vida. Dicho esto, Satanás se retiró de la presencia del SEÑOR para afligir a Job con dolorosas llagas desde la planta del pie hasta la coronilla. Y Job, sentado en medio de las cenizas, tomó un pedazo de teja para rascarse constantemente. Su esposa le reprochó: —¿Todavía mantienes firme tu integridad? ¡Maldice a Dios y muérete! Job 2:4-9, Nueva Versión International

En Octubre recordamos el mes de concientización sobre la violencia doméstica. Estoy leyendo y reflexionando sobre ambas mis experiencias y los pensamientos de otra sobre violencia doméstica durante este mes. Esta acción es importante para mi como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica.

El cuento de Job es un cuento con muchas partes difíciles. El cuento nos pregunta creer El Señor eligió conversar con Satanás sobre un hombre buenísimo que se llama Job. El Señor decidió permitir a Job experimentar muchas cosas malísimas.

Entre las cosas malísimas que el Señor permitió poder a Job, la esposa de Job reprochó Job «¿Todavía mantienes firme tu integridad? ¡Maldice a Dios y muérete!»

Vamos a ir directamente al punto: No es chulo cuando una persona dice aquellas cosas a una persona que tiene muchos problemas sin aquellas palabras. Aquellas palabras son palabras violencia y crueldad. Una esposa que dice aquellas cosas no ama a su esposo. Un esposo que dice las mismas cosas no ama a su esposa. Ninguna persona que dice aquellas palabras no ama a la persona que recibe.

Una Canción Nueva: Psalm 23

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“The LORD is my shepherd. I lack nothing. He lets me rest in grassy meadows; he leads me to restful waters; he keeps me alive. He guides me in proper paths for the sake of his good name. Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no danger because you are with me. Your rod and your staff– they protect me. You set a table for me right in front of my enemies. You bathe my head in oil; my cup is so full it spills over! Yes, goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the LORD’s house as long as I live.” Psalm 23, Common English Bible

In October we remember Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I am reading and reflecting on both my experiences and the thoughts of others about domestic violence during this month. This action is important to me as a survivor of domestic violence.

In truth, all the grass in my life is not peaceful or green. Sometimes the grass in many parts is green and healthy, but other parts are brown and scorched by the sun.

My soul aches when I think about the past and when I think about my children. I understand that we live in this country where women are hurt and were hurt because they were women. The situation for women is very bad and I wish it were different.

It is true, but men don’t need to be subjected to the same evils we don’t wish on women. To choose between those two options is a false dichotomy. When we choose to live with domestic violence for females, males, or non-binary people, we choose to ignore people from places with torrential waters and torment.

The psalm was written to be a word of hope for people walking in dark valleys. The psalm was written to be a strong word for people who are afraid when they are around enemies. We love Psalm 23. Can we bring the wonderful gifts of the psalm to all people who are hurt by domestic violence?

“El SEÑOR es mi pastor, nada me falta; en verdes pastos me hace descansar. Junto a tranquilas aguas me conduce; me infunde nuevas fuerzas. Me guía por sendas de justicia por amor a su nombre. Aun si voy por valles tenebrosos, no temo peligro alguno porque tú estás a mi lado; tu vara de pastor me reconforta. Dispones ante mí un banquete en presencia de mis enemigos. Has ungido con perfume mi cabeza; has llenado mi copa a rebosar. La bondad y el amor me seguirán todos los días de mi vida; y en la casa del SEÑOR habitaré para siempre.” Salmo 23, Nueva Versión Internacional

En Octubre recordamos el mes de concientización sobre la violencia doméstica. Estoy leyendo y reflexionando sobre ambas mis experiencias y los pensamientos de otra sobre violencia doméstica durante este mes. Esta acción es importante para mi como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica.

En verdad todo el pasto en mi vida no es tranquilo o verde. A veces el césped en muchas partes es verde y sano, pero otras partes son marrones y chamuscar del sol.

Mi alma me duele cuando pienso sobre el pasado y cuando pienso sobre mis hijos. Yo entiendo que vivimos en este país donde las mujeres reciben danos y recibieron danos porque eran mujeres. La situación de las mujeres es malísima y yo deseo que sea diferente.

Es verdad, pero los hombres tambien no necesitan recibir los mismos mal que no deseamos para mujeres. Para elegir entre esas dos opciones hay una falsa dicotomía. Cuando elegimos vivir con violencia doméstica para femeninos, masculino, o no binarios, elegimos ignorar personas de sitios con aguas torrentes y tormentos.

El salmo fue escrito para ser una palabra de esperanza para las personas que caminan en valles tenebrosos. El salmo fue escrito para ser una palabra fuerte para personas que tienen miedos cuando están cerca de enemigos. Nos encanta el salmo 23.  ¿Podemos traer los buenísimos regalos del salmo a todas las personas que tienen el dano de violencia doméstica?

Una Canción Nueva: The Silent Message

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In October we remember Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I am reading and reflecting on both my experiences and the thoughts of others about domestic violence during this month. This action is important to me as a survivor of domestic violence.

These sentences are a thought from the introduction to the book “Telling the Truth: Preaching about Sexual and Domestic Violence” by editors McClure and Ramsay:

“The silence, however, is not really silent. It sends a clear ‘hands off’ message to victims, perpetrators, and bystanders. At the very least, this silence communicates to victims that they are alone with their suffering. To perpetrators it says that the church does not hold them accountable for their evil actions. To bystanders it says that it is okay to remain on the sidelines of a brutal and sometimes brutal game.”

It’s true. The silence is deafening. God’s people have voices for many things, but the silence when people experience domestic violence is deafening. Together with the people of the world, the song of silence is deafening.

No person deserves that silence. These people already experience radical evil, pain, and violence. Why don’t God’s people speak out about this radical and silent evil?

I get nauseous when I see my abuser wearing a t-shirt that says “This Pastor Loves You” as I remember the pain and hurt of the past. Why are you silent, God’s people? Why didn’t you speak up?

En Octubre recordamos el mes de concientización sobre la violencia doméstica. Estoy leyendo y reflexionando sobre ambas mis experiencias y los pensamientos de otra sobre violencia doméstica durante este mes. Esta acción es importante para mi como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica.

Esta oraciones son un pensamiento de la introducción del libro “Telling the Truth: Preaching about Sexual and Domestic Violence” por los editores McClure y Ramsay:

“Sin embargo, el silencio no es realmente silencio. Envía un mensaje claro de ‘no intervención’ a las víctimas, a los perpetradores y a los espectadores. Por lo menos, este silencio comunica a las víctimas que están solas con su sufrimiento. A los perpetradores les dice que la iglesia no los hace responsables de sus malas acciones. A los espectadores les dice que está bien permanecer al margen de un juego brutal y a veces mortal.”

Es verdad. El silencio es ensordecedor. El pueblo de Dios tiene voces para muchas cosas, pero el silencio cuando las personas experimentan violencia doméstica es ensordecedor. Juntas con la gente del mundo, la canción de silencio es ensordecedora.

Ninguna persona merece ese silencio. Esas personas ya experimentan mal radical, dolor, y violencia. ¿Por qué el pueblo de Díos no habla sobre este mal radical y silencioso?

Me estoy mareando cuando veo a mi abusadora llevando una camiseta que dice “Este pastor te ama” y recuerdo la pena y dolor del pasado. ¿Por qué el silencio, el pueblo de Dios? ¿Por qué no habló?

Una Canción Nueva: Singing about Pouring Water

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“I’m poured out like water. All my bones have fallen apart. My heart is like wax; it melts inside me. My strength is dried up like a piece of broken pottery. My tongue sticks to teh roof of my mouth; you’ve set me down in the dirt of death.” Psalm 22:14-15, Common English Bible (CEB)

In October we remember Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I am reading and reflecting on both my experiences and the thoughts of others about domestic violence during this month. This action is important to me as a survivor of domestic violence.

These sentences are a though from the introduction to the book “Telling the Truth: Preaching about Sexual and Domestic Violence” by editors McClure and Ramsay:

“These psalms are the words of our tradition, words spoken and prayed in worship. They are laments and petitions uttered by victims of radical evil, pain, and violence. These whispers, cries, and prayers are not only to be spoke by victims or survivors of violence. The people of God has spoken these words together across time, as if to say, ‘We the congregation, will not keep silent’ in the face of such violence.”

I would like to hear these words and psalms more in the church and from the mouths of God’s people. I often feel alone as a survivor of domestic violence. Often both my masculine words and my masculine experiences are dismissed or labeled as pitiful. God’s people can speak these words without the shame I feel and experience.

No healthy person wants or desires an experience with domestic violence. Often those experiences are experiences with people in their families and their friends. Those experiences are horrible and awful. Survivors of domestic violence already work hard to survive and do not need to speak up when it is difficult to live with their experiences.

Could you please speak louder, people of God? Wake up! We need your support and your voices.

«Como agua he sido derrarmado; dislocados están todos mis huesos. Mi corazón se ha vuelto como cera, y se derrite en mis entrañas. Se ha secado mi vigor como una teja; la lengua se me paga al paladar. ¡Me has hundido en el polvo de la muerte!» Salmo 22:14-15, Nueva Versión Internacional (NVI)

En Octubre recordamos el mes de concientización sobre la violencia doméstica. Estoy leyendo y reflexionando sobre ambas mis experiencias y los pensamientos de otra sobre violencia doméstica durante este mes. Esta acción es importante para mi como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica.

Esta oraciones son un pensamiento de la introducción del libro “Telling the Truth: Preaching about Sexual and Domestic Violence” por los editores McClure y Ramsay:

“Estos salmos son las palabras de nuestra tradición, palabras pronunciadas y rezadas en el culto. Son lamentos y peticiones pronunciadas por víctimas del mal radical, el dolor y la violencia. Estos susurros, gritos y oraciones no deben ser pronunciados únicamente por víctimas o sobrevivientes de la violencia. El pueblo de Dios ha pronunciado estas palabras en conjunto a lo largo del tiempo, como si quisiera decir: ‘Nosotros, la congregación, no nos quedaremos callados’ frente a tal violencia”.

Me gustaría escuchar más estas palabras y salmos en la iglesia y en las bocas del pueblo de Dios. A menudo me siento solo como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica. a menudo ambas mis palabras masculinas y mis experiencias masculinas son descartadas o tildadas de penosas. El pueblo de Dios puede pronunciar estas palabras sin la pena me siento y experiencia.

Ninguna persona sana desea o desea una experiencia con violencia doméstica. A menudo aquellas experiencias son experiencias con personas en sus familias y de sus amigos. Aquellas experiencias son horribles y malísimas. Los sobrevivientes de violencia doméstica ya trabajan duro para sobrevivir y no necesitan hablar cuando es difícil vivir con sus experiencias.

¿Podría hablar más alto, pueblo de Dios? ¡Despabílate! Necesitamos su apoyo y sus voces

About Anonymous Letters (Sobre Cartas Anónimas)

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I received an anonymous letter yesterday. Probably, the letter was written to help us with the life of the church. My problem with the letter was this letter had a lot of accusations about the church and the people in the church. The letter had many words except the name of the person writing the letter. The letter did not have a way to have a conversation about the writer’s problems with the church or the people of the church.

I am no stranger to conversations about problems with the church or church people. Conversations like those in the letter are very normal in my pastoral life, but those conversations are two-way. An anonymous letter is not a two-way conversation. The accusations in the anonymous letter could not lead to a healthy conversation because all the problems it presents are others people’s problems. Only one person did not have a problem: the writer.

Anonymous letters rarely help make things better. Rarely, anonymous letters help the writer to have courage, but those letters hurt all the people who receive the hurtful words with no two-way conversation. In my opinion, anonymous letters are hurtful and irresponsible because they are usually self-centered and selfish.

It is possible that this anonymous letter was written with good intentions, but the letter was written to a person who received many messages with bad intentions in the past. I am a survivor of gaslighting and I have no way to be sure anonymous messages are not sent with the same intentions that my abuser had because such messages have already happened in past years.

Sorry, anonymous, friend, but I can’t consider your thoughts without your identity. Please, find courage and write again with your name.

Yo recibe una carta anónima ayer. Probablemente, la carte estuve escribe a nos ayudar con la vida de la iglesia. Mi problema con la carta estuvo esta carta tuvo muchas acusaciones sobre la iglesia y las personas en la iglesia. La carta tuvo muchas palabras excepto el nombre de la persona que escribe la carta. La carta no tuvo una vía para tener una conversación sobre aquellos problemas del escritor con la iglesia o la gente de la iglesia.

Soy no extraño a conversaciones sobre problemas con la iglesia o la gente de la iglesia. Las conversaciones tan aquellas en la carta son muy normales en mi vida pastoral, pero aquellas conversaciones son de doble dirección. Una carta anónima no es una conversación de doble dirección. Las acusaciones en la carta anónima no pudieron conducir a una conversación sana porque todas las problemas que presenta son problemas de otras personas. Solamente una persona no tuvo una problema: el escritor.

Cartas anónimas raramente ayudan a hacer cosas mejores. Raramente, las cartas anónimas ayudan al escritor a tener valor, pero aquellas cartas malan todas las personas que reciben las palabras hirientes con no conversación de doble dirección. En mi opinión, las cartas anónimas son hierientes y irresponsables porque están usualmente egocéntricas y  egoístas.

Es posible que esta carta anónima estuviera escrita con intenciones buenas, pero la carta estuviera escrita a una persona que recibiera muchos mensajes con intenciones malas en el pasado. Estoy un superviviente de luz de gas, y no tengo una via a tener certeza mensajes anónimas no son mandaron con las mismas intenciones que mi abusador tuvo porque mensajes tan ya pasaron en el años pasados.

Lo siento, amigo anónimo, pero no puedo a considerar sus pensamientos sin su identidad. Por favor, obtiene valor y escribe de nuevo con su nombre.

Telling our Stories again (and again)

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“I’m convinced that they told this story about Peter because Peter himself insisted on telling it over and over again. It became so associated with Peter and his ministry that not to tell the story would have been a great disservice.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

I have become utterly convinced, like Rev. Hamilton, that the best stories I have ever shared have been stories of weakness on my own behalf. Two days ago, we shared the story about how the foolishness of God is greater than the wisdom of the world. I have to admit that my story is a foolish story.

I am a minister in recovery from alcoholism who is divorced. I struggle to communicate with my former partner and I rarely see my kids. I have a lot of struggles in my life and I am really open about all of them, but I don’t share because I want pity. I share because the stories show the Way I have found a path out of the darkness. The stories are an invitation to life.

How? Jesus works through my weakness. To borrow from the epistles, I have this treasure in a jar of clay. I share these stories because the power of God doesn’t come from me. It comes from God.

When I share communion I share about the unfermented fruit of the vine because everyone should come to the table. There is rarely a person who walks through the doors of our church who does not understand that God can and will heal them even from the hardest of situations. I have become an advocate for the addicted, the brokenhearted, the lonely, and the grieving. My strongest advocacy comes through sharing my story with all of the failures within it.

Peter knew what he was doing. I seek to do the same.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

The Kingdom on Earth

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“Peter’s confession of faith, that Jesus was the Christ, the King, the son of the living God, was the conviction upon which Christ’s church would be built. But implicit in this confession of faith is the central focus of Jesus’ preaching and teaching: the Kingdom of God in which God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

What does it mean the Kingdom of God is to be done on earth as it is in heaven? What does it mean when we ask people to wait for things to be set right in the world to come? What if we want other people to wait for things that we ourselves would demand in their shoes? Intentionally, let me allude to the questions of Rev. Dr. King in the Letter from a Birmingham Jail: what happens when the admonition that others should wait is just a pretty way of implying that something may never happen?

The Kingdom of God is definitely found within the realm of heaven. It wouldn’t seem to be very heavenly if the abode of God were as chaotic as it is here on earth. One day, Revelation tells us that the abode of God will be here. Certainly, things will be good and heavenly on earth then.

What about today? What about here? What about now?

Lots of people advise that the best thing to do is to wait. Surely, time will heal all wounds, right? Surely the people being mistreated will one day find justice or the people being deceived will open their eyes. Wait. Wait. Wait…

Being asked to wait while injustice takes place is cold comfort. Rev. Hamilton asks us to consider what God would have our local communities do in this life? When people ask churches to define what they want the future to look like, there’s often a description of a church full of people and families that are happy. Describing a church full of people is a description and it may be what God wants, but why are those people there? Who are they called to be right here and right now? Why are they assembled? Why are they here?

If the Kingdom of God is to begin here, what is it supposed to be doing? What is called to be in this life?

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

The Foundations

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“In a sense, we’re all laying a foundation upon which the lives and faith of others is being built. If you are a parent or grandparent, you are laying a foundation for your children and grandchildren’s lives. If you are a schoolteacher, you are doing the same for your students. If you are in leadership in business or in politics or in some other arena of life, you are laying a foundation for those you are influencing, those looking up to you, and those coming after you. Every time you encourage, teach, or invest in the life of someone else, you are laying a foundation. We are all Petros in some way or another, hopefully helping to lay a good foundation upon which others develop and grow.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

What does it mean to lay a foundation? In the season of Lent, we do all sorts of interesting things. Some of us avoid eating meat on Fridays or eating chocolates. Others avoid behaviors like watching television or listening to the radio. For some, Lent comes alongside a long history of behaviors that we might accept as a part of life.

Who laid the foundation for what we experienced? When did it become normal for us? Do we think about the roots of our behaviors and actions? Do we consider how we are teaching and rooting such behaviors in the lives of other people?

As I think about the foundations I lay for other people, I have to be honest with myself. I sometimes lay a good foundation for other people. My kids have seen me do my best to not become frustrated with my former partner, to stand up for my own safety, and to treat other people with care even as I am personally frustrated with the circumstances of life. They also have seen the way I act when I am driving throughout downtown Ithaca.

For me, this calling to consider the foundations that I am laying for others extends to my life’s profession. I have recently been trying to expand my regular Sunday morning announcements to move past telling everyone they are welcome to explicitly state that we welcome people from outside the church to come, listen, and find welcome within our community. It is challenging, at least in my head, to state that word of welcome while not compromising the integrity of worship.

We want people to come and hear the gospel. To do so requires that we open the door wide enough for those outside to stick their heads in the door and see what’s happening inside the doors of the church. I seek to extend that welcome even as I seek to avoid watering down the essence of worship. We want people to be welcome, but this isn’t performance art. We want people to learn about our faith, but we’re not actors teaching by playing roles. We want to lay a foundation of welcome while remembering that we believe in something concrete that calls us to lives that have challenges as well as celebrations.

We lay the way by setting a foundation for others in what we teach, what we preach, and how we live. Just as we teach our children by example in both good and bad ways, we seek to live in community in good ways even as we recognize the challenging ways we fall short. The foundations we lay do matter.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

The Value of Memorization

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Jesus said to them, ‘All who want to come after me must say no to themselves, take up their cross, and follow me. All who want to save their lives will lose them. But all who lose their lives because of me and because of the good news will save them. Why would people gain the whole world but lose their lives? Whoever is ashamed of me and my words in this unfaithful and sinful generation, the Human One will be ashamed of that person when he comes in the Father’s glory with the holy angels.’ “

Mark 8:34-38, CEB

A strange thing happened the other day. My two children and I were having one last dinner before they returned to their sibling and mother in Springville when I asked an innocent question. I asked my child if they were looking forward to going back to be with their mother. My six-year-old looked me in the eye and said “I don’t want to go back to Springville. I want to live in Trumansburg with you.”

My heart raced. What do you say in that moment? Do you stop everything and record the conversation? Do you call your lawyer? Do you call the child’s lawyer? What happens in those moments defines the kind of person we are in this life. What should I do?

I told my child that her mother would be really sad if she just stayed here. I invited her to go home and tell her mother how she felt. I invited her to talk with her mother because I believed her mother would be really sad if suddenly her child weren’t a part of her daily life. I said this as an authority because that’s exactly what happened to me. I invited my child to do the kind thing and speak with her mother about how she felt instead of just violently ripping the child out of her mother’s life. I did let both my former partner and my attorney know about the exchange, but I left the matter in the hands of God.

Would I have been in the right to treat my former partner the way she showed that she wanted to be treated in her actions towards me? I honestly don’t think so. I have been trying to teach my children to treat other people like they’d like to be treated their whole lives. While Hope did express her feelings to me, I think the reality is that she needs to tell her mother. Even at six, there’s power in Hope sharing her truth with her mother.

Today I was memorizing the passage above for this weekend. I was listening to the words as I memorized and realized the simple truth that if I had ignored my spiritual training and instead done the very human thing of striking back, I wouldn’t just be wrong. I would be ashamed. What good would it be to gain the whole world (i.e., my children back into my life) if it meant that I would lose my soul? What could I possibly give back to regain my soul’s life after I did such an awful thing to another human being? It doesn’t matter that she’s done those things to me. How could I possibly make amends for that kind of sin? How could I even begin to sleep at night knowing how shamefully I had acted? How could I look anyone in the eye?

I don’t want Jesus to be ashamed of me. I’m not ashamed of his words even when they are hard to follow. I’m sometimes called to say no to myself, take up my cross, and follow even when that means I’m alone in my home with just an old dog again today. What could I possibly do differently since I know these are the very words God has brought into my life? What could I give to pay the very price for my defiance?

Memorization is not just about rote learning. Memorization helps us to learn the scriptures and then apply them to our lives. It is really very difficult to skirt past words we don’t like when they are right in front of us. I am thankful that I spent so much time in my life learning the scriptures so that when I need to know them, they’re a part of me.

Normalizing Storms

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“Every week during worship, people at Church of the Resurrection turn in prayer request cards. We receive well over one hundred of them in a typical week. One might be from a woman whose daughter is struggling with depression. Another might be from someone whose spouse just left them. Yet another might involve someone who is fighting an addiction to drugs, alcohol, or pornography. Some are from people who recently lost their jobs. Others come from those who lost loved ones. All of these people are in the midst of storms in their lives. Some have been tossed about by the waves for months and are holding on with white knuckles for dear life. For others, the storm just blew in last week. For most, it’s a frightening experience.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

The prayers of the people can be a complicated thing to handle as a pastor. Long ago, a lot of churches stood up and shared their prayer concerns. It was wonderful. As time passed, we began to recognize the difficulties that come with differing abilities to hear, so microphones were passed. Few people realize just how strange things can get when you hand out a microphone to individuals who may or may not have every intention of doing the right thing as they lift up a concern for someone else. Usually, it is harmless. Sometimes it can be incredibly harmful.

As a minister, I have to admit that I take safety and welcome seriously as I lead the congregation I have been sent to serve. I want people to feel free to lift up prayers to God and live with the assurance that God sees the prayers that are within the hearts of each person in the room. Also, I have served places where public shame has led to people ending their lives because they could not bear the shame of something that happened to them.

I have a piece of pottery on my kitchen counter that holds all of the utensils I use to cook like wooden spoons, spatulas, and even scoops for soup. I received it at a fundraiser for the local school next to the town where I served. We went to support a teenager we knew through the local summer camp who organized the drive. When we heard about the events that caused her to feel such shame that it led to her death, I was heartbroken. Sometimes I understand the idea of total depravity too well.

The last thing I want is for prayer concerns to cause someone to be shamed into silence or isolation. Yes, it has happened over the years. Yes, especially in the political climate of the past few years, I have seen prayer requests lifted up as an attempt to call the faithful to political action for one candidate or another, but often one in particular. I want my church to neither non-consensually shame people from a microphone nor to use the church as a place for a political rally. When people think that God wants them to support a particular candidate in church and to invite others to do likewise, it can really disrupt things. Communities are torn apart over such prayer requests.

At the same time, Rev. Hamilton’s experience of seeing the need for love and support is not unique. Ministers see people on the seas of life like Simon Peter and the other disciples on a regular basis. Sometimes the squalls last five minutes and sometimes they seem to last forever. Life can be truly frightening for many of us, including ministers. We may not pray for each person by name every week of the year in church, but I know as a minister that I do remember the people we love in our thoughts and in our prayers on a regular basis on both Sunday mornings and throughout the week.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

By what name?

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“If Jesus were to give you a nickname describing the potential he saw in you, not the person you are but the person you could become, what nickname would you hope he might choose for you? Beautiful? Selfless? Courageous? Bold? Servant? Loving? I’d want him to call me “Faithful,” not because I am a faithful disciple, but because that is what I long to be.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

What name would I want to be called by Christ? This question stands out to me as we enter on a Lenten journey towards Jerusalem. Wednesday’s Ashes are blowing in the wind today, which is quite a good question. What would I want to be a part of my life so inextricably that Jesus might use it to describe me?

The question is an interesting one. I have been called many things over the years by people who maybe should or should not have used such words. My girlfriend tends to label me with words like brave, muscly, beautiful, and lovely. My former partner once told me I was the kind of person only God would love. When I look in the mirror I see the ashes and I have been known to be critical of the person who still has loose skin, is beginning to wrinkle around the eyes, and who has gray hairs when he doesn’t shave them off. Sometimes I think of myself as a gorilla when I think about how I can’t shave my back. Too much information? Well, consider this my addition to the growing evidence that people of all types have things in their lives and that self-image isn’t a gender-based problem. As I have heard it said in a different arena, “Same struggle, different differences.”

I have called myself a lot of things, but Rev. Hamilton isn’t asking what others think of me or what others might label me. He isn’t even asking me what I think of myself. I’m not being asked about who I am in these moments. To put it in terms that make sense in a Lenten fashion, what kind of name would I want to have encompass the nature of my being when the ashes have cleared away and the person I am being made into remains?

As I think about today and the fact that we come to God confessing not only our sins, but our flaws, our needs, and our shortcomings, I cannot help but confess that the name I would want falls in the realm of what we seek to understand in Ash Wednesday.

For me, the reality of life is that we are constantly amid ashes. My life, the lives of others, and even the fate of nations and corporations are ashes. None of this lasts. The most powerful healthcare corporation here today will, one day, crumble to nothing even if they have the power to tell me whether or not my trip to Urgent Care will be covered. As I type through a bandage over a cut that probably needed stitches but heals after treatment with TAO-covered bandages cinched tight with tape, I understand that both the healing fingers and the corporation that takes thousands of dollars from the church to take care of me but won’t cover a trip to the doctor’s office while I’m bleeding will both be ashes in time.

So, what would I want to be called? I don’t need to be a rock like Peter as even the strongest rocks can be worn down with the water and waves of life. I don’t need to know that I am the most beloved disciple, as that is John’s name and I honestly don’t believe that I need to vie for my place in the rost of things. I would be remembered, known, or seen. I would be called by the very name that stands diametrically opposed to being seen as a source of child support who is tolerated to have a role in the lives of his children beyond being a source of passive income. I would have Christ tell me that my life matters and that I belong here. Even as I state that all of these things are ashes, I would remember that my ashes are remembered, known, and seen.

Yes, even people with degrees, titles, and even places within the line of apostolic succession struggle to belong in a world that sees people as names and numbers on sheets of paper. I guess we can work on normalizing that reality today too.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

Giving Stone for Bread

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Many of our well-meant charities are of this sort. We blunder in our efforts to help poor needy people, because we do not get their point of view. We do not live our way into their lives. There is no fit between our gift and their need. They get a stone for bread.”

Quaker Theologian Rufus Jones, The Inner Life (1916), pg. 48

Today has been an interesting day in terms of my diet. I began the day with a waffle made with ground chickpeas and oatmeal. It was decorated and made colorful by a handful of sprinkles. After lifting weights later in the morning, I had a protein heavy lunch of fishy meatballs made with perch, breadcrumbs, aromatics, and egg. Dinner was what I will charitably call octopus buns, which is what happens when you steam Chinese steam buns over a steamer with big holes for steam, especially when you don’t give them time to rise properly..

All in all, a relatively cheap day. The fish was the only non-staple and it ended up being around $2.33 for the perch. A little bit of flour, some oats, breadcrumbs, and two eggs. Simple fare, but it tasted just fine to me.

Perhaps I won’t win any culinary awards for today’s menu. It is not always easy to live within one’s means, but I normally pull it off pretty well most days. Would my kids turn their noses up at what I made today? Yeah, but life is good regardless.

In my devotional today, I read through the words of Albert Edward Day in “Disciplining and Discovery.” The section talked about the various attributes of Christ and the following paragraph caught my attention:

“Frugality: ‘How hard it will be for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God’; ‘for our sakes he became poor that we through his poverty might be rich’; ‘man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God’; Frugal in food, he fasted long days in the wilderness. Frugal in sleep, he spent whole nights in prayer alone with God. Frugal in personal relationships, he loved people but could get along without them if his truth offended the, ‘will ye also go away?’ ”

Albert Edward Day as quoted in “Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants”

Frugal in food, sleep, and personal relationships… A tall order that perhaps lies in an order of difficulty from easiest to hardest. I know that food is easier to live with frugally than sleep. I have spent long nights in prayer and would far rather live with “Wonder Bread” sandwiches. I perhaps, at times, would accept sleepless nights over the sense of loneliness when everyone had gone away. None of these matters are anything to sneeze at, but, if we are honest, we might admit that none is the end of the world.

The thing is that I don’t mind a bit of frugality. There’s a real sense of strength that comes from knowing that you can make it through life alone. I can be in a relationship these days because I know that I can make it on my own if I want to make it on my own. My girlfriend is great, but I have to stand on my own two feet and one of the ways I do that is by living within my means, cutting back on expenses, and enjoying the blessings while not over extending myself to match her generosity. She may be able to afford to do some things I can’t and even be able to show love in ways I don’t know how to match at this point in my life, but I can bring other things to the potluck of our relationship. I bring who I am and somehow that’s enough.

If you can’t tell, I am grateful for my frugal fare. People do sometimes bless me with gifts of food for which I am also grateful, but I like being simple at times, even when it is difficult. Perhaps I am especially grateful when it is difficult. Being frugal can build character and character is something that you cannot necessarily put a price tag upon.

I love it when people are helpful, but if they are offering me a stone instead of bread, that’s not the solution to my problems that I require. My needs are only truly understandable when you walk a mile in my shoes, which isn’t something someone can do out there. These shoes rest right here and unless you’re here to see these worn treads and feel the frayed lining where my heels brush… To be blunt while hopefully not causing offense, you don’t actually know what you’re talking about, so please ask first and understand that sometimes no means no.

Incandescent Arcs

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“All the elements in the Master’s goodness which we have studied, his joy, his fearlessness, his fortitude, his magnanimity, are separate as incandescent arcs are, but they all burn with the same fire. This explains why it is often possible to find bravery or sacrificial devotion in other lives than his, that seem to equal the same virtues in him; but it is never possible to find the same quality which suffuses his courage and makes his sacrificial devotion a symbol of the love of God. No virtue in him was the whole of itself; his spirit
was the rest of it.“

Harry Emerson Fosdick as quoted on page 53 of “A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants” (their italics)

Today was an interesting day. I have been working alongside someone for the past few months in what the church might call a mentoring role and we have come to a splitting point. There are differences between us in terms of philosophies and at some point there are times when even the best intentions are stymied by practical differences. The situation makes me sad but is also a bit of a relief.

One of the things that relationship has helped me to clarify is my own understanding of God. I’m a big proponent of Christianity: that much is probably obvious. I believe in my heart that Jesus Christ is the Son of God who was incarnated, died, resurrected, and ascended. I believe Christ will come again. I say that I believe these things because I am honest in the fact that these positions are propositions of faith and not sight. I believe them, but I cannot say 100% that they are true because I am a being of limited understanding of life, the universe, and everything within it. This is doubly true when I consider the Divine which is just infinitely more complex and mysterious than the universe I already do not understand.

It seems to me to be a huge assertion to say things like “All religions are manifestations of the same divine light with equal value and truth.” They very well may be one light that is refracted into the various faiths, but it is a big statement for me to say that things absolutely are this one way. I am convinced of Christianity to the extent that I can be convinced, but I don’t have the time, energy, or even intellectual capacity to do the same deep-dive into other faiths to make the same assertion about their belief system. It is intrinsically difficult for me to even pretend that I know all faiths are equal because I don’t have the heart in me to even pretend to have the audacity to make such a broad claim about other systems of belief, practice, and connections. Frankly, when it comes to other religions, there are places where I am just plain ignorant and I don’t want to put the stamp of approval on something I cannot begin to understand.

Instead of being broad in my understanding of world religions, I do have a very curious and interesting relationship with Christianity. I see truth in statements like those written by Fosdick in the pericope quoted above because I see Jesus in the light of being internationally Divine. Are there others who are sacrificial, loving, just, and kind outside of Christianity? Absolutely. Are there people in other faith traditions I deeply admire and even wish to emulate? Yes. Do I see those beautiful people as carriers of what might be called the Imago Dei? Yeah. Do I think they are on par with Jesus in terms of their place within the hierarchy of divinity and godliness in our universe? Not really.

My understanding of Jesus is fundamentally different than the way I see other people because my faith has taught me that Jesus is fully human like the rest of us but Jesus is also fully divine. Comparing Christ to other people is comparing apples and oranges. Both may be fruit, but one is fully manzana in every language, while the other will forever be naranja. No matter what language is spoken or what idiom is chosen, the two are distinctly different at a fundamental level.

Does my position on Jesus’ uniqueness intrinsically mean that I am right and they are wrong? To be honest, I don’t have the data to give an honest and forthright response to that question. A lot of world religions do have places where there is friction between their beliefs and practices and Christian orthodoxy and orthopraxy. I’m not going to say they are right because I am humble enough to say I don’t have all of the information to be definitive, Even so, at this point in my life I have long since cast my lot with Jesus of Nazareth. Is that right or wrong? A great question, but from where I look upon creation, I see the Incandescence of the Divine in Jesus Christ as being fundamentally unique. That viewpoint is my perspective and it does not need to match the perspective of everyone else. One thing I do believe for certain is this: we each have the opportunity to be either right or wrong even if we cannot say with 100% certainty that one is right and one is wrong until the Divine itself is fully revealed and fully known.

Does this position always make me friends? No, not at all. Honestly, this position costs me friends both outside of my faith and within my faith: I’m either judgmental of others or not judgmental enough depending on a person’s perspective. For what it is worth, most people of other religions that I am friends with have the capacity to disagree without animosity, to hold a friendship alongside a disagreement, and honestly accept the fact that my personal viewpoint is about what I see as right and not about telling them that they’re wrong. I do my best to return the favor of offering to disagree without animosity, to be friends despite disagreeing, and to share my perspective without damning theirs. A lot of those faithful heterodox friends think I’m wrong but are kind enough to love me anyway, which is awesome because I love them too.

Grief and Pain

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A couple of hours ago I made a mistake through my own stupid arrogance. Okay, it wasn’t that bad, I said something stupid to the neighboring minister when stopping by her office. I said, “I feel like the end of Advent is going to be quiet. I feel like I have paid my dues with Advent drama.” I didn’t knock on wood.

Two hours later I am on the phone with the doctor’s office for my children. One child is sick and the other has a head injury. I have been trying to get information through a phone call for days. I was told repeatedly that their mother wouldn’t tell me the information because I could get it from the doctor, The doctor let me know that they’ve never been given permission to share anything with me. Shared custody or not, there’s no medical information for Dad. All I know is that my eldest has a head injury and that my middle child needs medication to breathe more fully.

Why would I need to know more than that? Isn’t that enough for me to make medical decisions? When will there be medical decisions where I actually get to make a choice or even remain informed if even head trauma isn’t enough to qualify? I should have knocked on wood. More accurately, I should have assumed the worst earlier. You would think I would have learned by now.

I have been thinking about the pain this afternoon. Even as I prepare for the Longest Night Service on Thursday, I find myself coming back to the pain within. I was ready for a drama-free Christmas. I was neither wishing ill nor inviting the Krampus to visit my former partner. I was accepting of the fact that life simply means neither seeing my eldest this season nor seeing my kids on Christmas morning. I was even accepting of the fact that buying Christmas presents for them feels more and more like buying gifts for strangers. It hurt, but it was numb. Suddenly it is as if the bandages are torn away and my soul is bleeding again. I thought about it and turned back to a book I have been reading on and off again for a few years now.

“Following the initial numbing shock of disbelief in the immediate experience of loss, pain presses itself into our souls and bodies. It is sometimes more than we think we can bear. We seek ways to anesthetize ourselves. It hurts too much to allow that gaping hole in our gut to bleed unstaunched. We want to feel anything other than that pain. We want to fill the empty hole within with something—alcohol, drugs, sex, sleep, work, easy love, TV. We are vulnerable to anyone who will offer us a moment’s respite from that unspeakable gap within our soul…

Eventually though, we begin to feel again and the pain sets in. The pain reminds us we are still alive and in need of healing. It will come and go, visiting us when we least expect it. When you can feel the pain of sadness and loneliness, know that this signals that you are growing stronger. When we are not strong, the body numbs us and we don’t feel. If we feel the pain, we are gaining strength. Pain reminds us that something significant has happened. It reminds us that to be human is to feel. Only when we can feel the deep sadness of the loss can we ever hope to feel the deep joy of new life. Feeling is central to the ability to experience the fullness of life as it is being lived.”

Dan Moseley, “Lose, Love, Live: The Spiritual GIfts of Loss and Change,” pg 41

I am really hurting today and I understand, in part, what Moseley is saying here. If I couldn’t handle the pain, then my body, soul, and spirit would surely know enough to anesthetize the wound. Even if it couldn’t heal from the wounds in the past, my soul has become very good at cauterizing internal pain through things like exercise, poetry, eating, music, and even focusing my thoughts on the pain of occasional hunger. When you have no other way to advocate for yourself and when even your attorney has gone on vacation, what choice can there be here?

I get that it hurts and I wish that it wouldn’t hurt. I wish there was something I could do to make the pain go away, but there’s no really good answer other than to embrace the pain. If there’s one thing my former partner has given me, it is the gift of pain. I can hide away from it, or I can accept the simple things it teaches me.

  • I’m alive to feel this pain
  • I’m strong enough to experience this without going into shock
  • I’m alive enough to make choices to reach out to people who care about me
  • I’m alive enough to think about things like the meaning of pain, the lack of justice, and even anticipate the Advent of Christ to stand as the only just and righteous judge who can unfailingly stand in final judgment over situations like this one.
  • I’m alive enough to pray and seek after the Spirit even as the world denies hypothetical rights and shatters the hope of people who have already been broken by injustice

I’m reading Lamentations 5 in worship this Thursday. Lord, I feel it…

“15Joy has left our heart; our dancing has changed into lamentation. 16The crown has fallen off our head. We are doomed because we have sinned. 17Because of all this our heart is sick; because of these things our glance is dark. 18Mount Zion, now deserted– only jackals walk on it now! 19But you, LORD, will rule forever; your throne lasts from one generation to the next. 20Why do you forget us continually; why do you abandon us for such a long time? 21Return us, LORD, to yourself. Please let us return! Give us new days, like those long ago– 22unless you have completely rejected us, or have become too angry with us.”

Lamentations 5:15-22, Common English Bible (CEB)

A Prayer Shared on the Anniversary of My Mother’s Death

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Thou goest home this night to thy home of winter,
To thy home of autumn, of spring, and of summer;
Thou goest home this night to thy perpetual home,
To thine eternal bed, to thine eternal slumber.

Sleep thou, sleep, and away with thy sorrow, . . .
Sleep this night in the breast of thy Mother,
Sleep, thou beloved, while she herself soothes thee, . . .
Sleep, thou beloved, while she herself kisses thee.

The great sleep of Jesus, the surpassing sleep of Jesus,
The sleep of Jesus’ wound, the sleep of Jesus’ grief,
The young sleep of Jesus, the restoring sleep of Jesus,
The sleep of the kiss of Jesus of peace and of glory. . . .

Sleep, O sleep in the calm of all calm,
Sleep, O sleep in the guidance of guidance,
Sleep, O sleep in the love of all loves, . . .
Sleep, O beloved, in the God of life.

Michael Carmichael, Carmina Gaedelica, 312-313

Walking in the dark

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Tonight I took a long walk for the first time in a week. I have been working a lot this week. I haven’t really had the time on nice days to be outside between a funeral and some ongoing issues with work situations.

I could have turned around earlier and made it back to the car before dark, but I kept going. I was almost halfway through the walk when the sun went behind the hills. I walked nearly an hour and a half after the sunset without a flashlight.

It is strange how familiar the paths have become over the past few years. I used to stumble and trip even in the middle of the day. I walked over three miles in the darkness without a light and my feet walked firmly even as I couldn’t see everything in front of me.

I remembered as I walked. I thought about writing poems about hiking in the snow in one space and took a picture of beautiful leaves in the sun\set in another place. I remembered where my dog drank water in one place and remembered the lightning crashing in another place. I walked with firm steps. FitBit informed me at one point that I had shaved a couple seconds off of my average mile split. I walked faster in the darkness than I used to walk in the light.

Why? You can see in the darkness once your eyes adapt. You can see in the darkness once the moon comes out. You can see in the darkness when you have enough time in a space. You can do a lot with over a year of practice walking in a space.

This reality applies to other parts of life as well. You can walk in the darkness after you have spent time living alone. You can walk in the darkness when the phone doesn’t ring and your children don’t reach out. You can walk in the darkness when you face challenges because you know the sort of person you have become.

I owe a lot to the practice I have done. Some would even say I have a discipline built from making choices. That discipline teaches me to be who I am today and I am grateful both for the lessons I have learned and the confidence that comes from doing the next right thing time and time again.

A Lack of Consensus in Advent

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“It is a primary truth of Christianity that God reaches us directly. No person is insulated. As ocean floods the inlets, as sunlight environs the plant, so God enfolds and enwreathes the finite spirit. There is this difference, however, inlet and plant are penetrated whether they will or not. Sea and sunshine crowd themselves in a tergo. Not so with God. He can be received only through appreciation and conscious appropriation. He comes only through doors that are purposefully opened for him. A person may live as near Goad as the bubble is to the ocean and yet not find him. He may be ‘closer than breathing, nearer than hands or feet,’ and still be missed.”

Rufus Jones, from “The Double Search” as quoted in “A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants” by Reuben Job & Normal Shawchuck

In our study of “All the Good: A Wesleyan Way of Christmas,” during the first week of Advent, one of the authors of the study, Laceye Warner, shared a personal story of playing hide and seek with children in the middle of a worship service. She was comparing the game of hide and seek to Christ approaching in Advent. In Advent, ready or not, here Christ comes.

This week I was looking through the readings for reflection from “A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Others Servants” when Rufus Jones’s words showed up in a quote from “The Double Search.” Recently I have been spending time in Rufus Jones’ 1916 work “The Inner Life,” so I paid attention to what Jones wrote while wondering how Rufus Jones ended up in the readings for the second week of Advent.

What an interesting tension between these two readings. Rev. Warner wrote about how Jesus is coming into the world whether it is ready or not. Rufus Jones wrote about how God is by nature a God who believes in consent. For Jones, God is as close as a bubble may be to the ocean, but consent is required before God will enter into a life. For Warner, God is right there on the verge of entering into the world whether or not it is ready.

Now the interesting thing about these two from my perspective is the potential clash of theology. Rev. Warner is deeply and steeply within the Methodist tradition. As an elder, I can say that I would not question her theology for one moment if I were on a Board of Ordained Ministry. Her position is solidly supported by Wesleyan research, writings, and traditions. Should she one day google this blog article, I hope she sees that I give her and her theology a thumbs up! Nothing personal here, Rev. Warner.

There is grace in the world for us and that grace is prevenient, justifying, and sanctifying. These graces exist in that particular order. God works within us even before we consciously choose to accept God. Unmerited favor pours down and into a life that comes to a point of acceptance and justification. Students of Methodist theology call that type of loving kindness and mercy prevenient grace.

Quaker theologian Rufus Jones states that God is right in the world around us, but that there must be an acceptance of God’s love before God truly enters into a person. I’m not enough of a Quaker scholar to state whether or not Jones would say that the presence of God in that proximity would qualify as a form of prevenient grace, but I wonder. God is there surrounding a person like the sunshine surrounds a tree or like the water fills an inlet, but Jones states there’s a difference: the sun may fill a plant with light that leads to a reaction with chlorophyll, but the plant has no say in the presence of the light. The water may pour into the inlet, but the inlet has no say in the matter. Tides, gravity, and water levels conspire to fill an inlet whether or not it desires to be wet.

For Rufus Jones, there must be consent before God enters into a life. For people like John Wesley, acceptance definitively matters as a prerequisite before prevenient grace leads a person to a salvific experience with the justifying grace offered by Christ. There’s a similar view on consent for both Jones and Wesley when it comes to salvation. The question I have is whether or not prevenient grace is a consensual grace.

As a minister, I have heard many times from a beloved child of God about the life of a loved one who is in their prayers. Sometimes the loved one is not willing to come to church or to accept the presence of God in their life. There have been prayers for the beloved person who may be angry, hurt, frustrated, or just done with the church. Sometimes the prayer is that the beloved person will find faith, accept an invitation to church, or even walk away from a dangerous situation. The hopes and the prayers they inspire are almost always well-intentioned and loving.

The question Jones inspires is what happens when we would like to see a flood of prevenient grace swell up to bear someone into the arms of God while the person in the water may want nothing to do with that grace or the God who is waiting. We would present the humorous simile of hide and seek with Rev. Warner and many other Methodists (including me) who want to explain the presence of God entering the world, but some people have no desire to play that game. They are not interested. The plant may rest in the sunshine regardless of intention, but if Jones is accurate in his portrayal of how God functions, the people we love may shut that door on God. What’s more, God may even honor their decisions to shut the door.

If prevenient grace must be or should be consensual, then there may be a theological hurdle for many of us as we consider how we relate to the world around us. I was sitting in a district clergy meeting this fall when an elderly fellow stated that things would be okay if we could just sit people down and explain to them where they are wrong and where we are right. I paraphrased that a bit, but I will state that’s what I heard. I hold no ill will for the person sharing that sentiment, but I wonder how well it works to force people to sit down and listen to us as the people who proclaim that we are right and they are ignorant.

In my experience, forced conversation about faith where the person is being forced into the conversation rarely leads anywhere good for either the person sharing or the person receiving that forceful sharing. Moving beyond the fact that bullying someone into faith seems the opposite of what we are called to do as Christians, there’s something deeply flawed here, The very idea that bashing someone over the head with a theological or even educational hammer is a form of grace seems a bit arrogant. The choice to act with theological, spiritual, educational, or even positional power should be rejected when we consider that honest conversation and loving actions can lead to similar conversations and results from a more respectful place of kindness, mercy, and graciousness.

Such conversations, poorly done and with carelessness, can lead to traumatic results. We know that religion having a negative impact can happen and has happened depending on how religion is used to cope with challenging situations. Other conversations, done carefully and with love, can lead to people seeing the extension of faith, hope, and love as being means of prevenient grace. When there is consent and all is well, then salvific results can ensue. When there is a lack of consent, our actions can be considered means of sorrow instead of means of grace.

It is perhaps easy to look at our actions in this light and see the value of consent and love in our approaches to evangelism and even to what Warner referred to as “works of mercy” throughout this season of Advent. Works of mercy, consensually and lovingly done, are glorifying to the name of God. Works of mercy that are not done with consent or even perspective can end as poorly as the incredibly outdated concept of the “Indian Boarding Schools” (which United Methodists are encouraged to be actively repenting of as a part of a whole church that hurt itself: racism is an act that hurts all people (Book of Resolutions, ¶3371: A Charter for Racial Justice in an Interdependent Global Community)).

You may think that I have gone far afield from my original conversation by talking about how we engage in evangelism and acts of mercy. Perhaps you wonder why it matters that won-consensual evangelism and “works of mercy” have caused harm. What does this have to do with prevenient grace and consent? Well, do we think our desire for another person to come to know God is greater than their desire to be left alone? Can we truly see a loving God pushing someone around without a sense of love and care simply because we ask for it? If God truly loves that person and loves us, can we see God working to empower us to share with love instead of forcing grace into their life through the school of hard knocks?

We know it is harmful to force other people into a place where they are deeply harmed by our good intentions. There’s a reason why the first of the three general rules is to do no harm and we even recognize those rules are purposefully in the order we have them. We seek to do no harm even before we seek to do good. As such, perhaps we need to deeply consider whether or not prevenient grace should be consensual. If it is to be, perhaps our time should be spent helping others to find that grace with love and kindness.

Consent is a powerful thing. Consent takes something beautiful and makes it extravagantly wonderful. A lack of consent takes something beautiful and turns it into something horrific. We know this is true of something as common as human sexuality. Can you imagine a world where prevenient grace is extravagantly wonderful? Put another way, can you imagine a world where prevenient grace is celebrated without the eventual need for global acts of repentance? What if we worked for a world where people sought God with joy instead of God having to play hide and seek with the unwilling as a result of our behaviors? What if our Christmas gifts to Christ were acts of consensual mercy?

On Weirdness of Body

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

I have been working most of the day with the exception of a personal errand this evening. I have been battling technology for most of the day and annoyed at least one person by putting the wrong link in an email. It has been a very stressful day and there’s still absolutely no progress on the car. Over seven days after the accident there still isn’t even an appointment for the insurance company to look at the car.

To be entirely honest, I am a bit frazzled tonight as I look over what rests on my docket for tomorrow. Bible study, worship, and leadership are the start of the day. The afternoon and evening are marked with taking care of personal needs and then volunteer service in my recovery program. When the sun has long set tomorrow night, it will be with a whole week of needs obligations ahead of me even without the car dramatics.

It is going to be a week, but I am honestly stuck in the last week. A friend sent me copies of pictures of my children and they appear happy and well fed. Honestly, I am so grateful they appear happy and wellfed. It makes me really happy even as I am struggling with the opposite situation. I was lightly lectured by a doctor this week because I haven’t had enough protein. It is significant enough that it showed up in my bloodwork as a form of malnutrition. Yeah, to a certain extent, my body composition is changing partially because of nutritional deprivation.

The day after I had that conversation with my doctor I was looking in the mirror while I was putting another set of holes into my belt. The muscles looked good, but the skin drooped strangely. The shoulders looked great and my jawline was sharp, but the skin around my belly was loose. Although others don’t often see it, I can see it every single day. I’ve long since left behind the moments of absolute and sheer joy to a slight grimace when I look in the mirror.

Still, what can a person do? Do I argue for less child support and risk my children going without? Do I advocate for myself knowing that the kids may need a father who hasn’t gone without protein for so long that it is having an effect on his health? Do I even speak honestly about it with people like my father or my brother who might see this as one more area where I fall short of the ideal by which I was raised to live? Do I even let my elder children know what’s going on if they knew all those shiny toes under the tree and those brimming pots full of food that they share with their mother are systemically related to my weight loss?

Do I even remain silent because it is embarrassing to the church? I can tell you that they’re more than generous, but when 36% automatically goes to child support and your partner won’t pay her portion of the insurance, things are tight. It isn’t the church’s job to be more generous than that kind of burden. It isn’t the church’s job to bail me out after I married the woman I married. Do I remain silent because it is bad enough their minister wears baggy clothes and won’t go to Thursday breakfast at the falls because the cost is too great? What do I do when they read this which will lead to another round of “Why won’t you go to the food pantry we hold in our church?”

Do I remain silent because I do have a role to play in all of this? I know one person in particular loves to say I don’t own my part in things. Yeah, I exercise a lot. Yeah, I weightlift. Why? I do enjoy the way it makes me look but I also realized a while back that all of that weight loss was coming at the expense of musculature. Yes, I hit a use it or lose it point a few months back and that’s why I am working so hard to build muscle. All of that means I need more calories, but the honest truth is that I buy meat maybe once or twice a month because that’s what I can afford. Yay for tofu and beans… I don’t get extra visits in part because I don’t feel safe in Springville but also because some of the visits come with the choice of paying for gasoline or paying for groceries. Still, I could just let the muscles go, exercise less, and need fewer calories. I could choose to sit home more, read more, and just let my body shrink down to a level I can afford to feed with rice, beans, and whatever greens I manage. I guess I could do that and I guess I’m guilty for not making that choice.

There’s all sorts of stuff I could do and there are reasons to remain silent, but should I stay silent? A lot of harm is often done by good people staying silent. Am I the only person going through difficult times? Do their stories matter less because they do not have the same privileges as me? Is it, in fact, a disservice to remain silent when there are so many people struggling without a voice? My words echo a lot of people’s experiences and I know many of them have no space, place, or voice to say what’s happening in their lives. Some of those people are good people who just cannot share. I would know because I come across those people often in recovery, in ministry, and as a person who actually enjoys and even loves the people at the edges of society. Do I do a disservice to them if I remain silent?

In the scriptures, the stories of God’s provision are told time and time again. There are stories where God shows up in the midst of the wilderness to provide for the families and prophets in need. A widow is given enough to survive by Elijah in the midst of 1 Kings 17. She has enough, but what of the people who live under the rule of a wicked ruler? Were all of those people wicked? Did they all deserve to go without? Probably not, but one of the sad realities of scripture is that the world presented reflects reality instead of the utopia we all desire.

Time and time again, through the scriptures the faithful people and even the innocent bystanders go through life without the very things they need. Do you know those videos of people overseas struggling? Those “for a dollar a day” videos? For generations, even the lands of the faithful looked like those videos when famine and drought came through the land. Sometimes deprivation is simply how life works even within the scriptures. As our society continues to shift, it sadly seems as if the sad reality of struggle told in the scriptures is increasingly apparent in our days as automation cuts the bottom rung of employment out here in the name of profits.

Even as we acknowledge that truth, do we lose hope in the midst of deprivation? We could, but I have always leaned into stories and words of hope from books like Habakkuk. There’s no grain in the field and the barns are empty, but we praise the Lord anyway. Things don’t look great and the choices are both dire and sad, but we praise the Lord anyway. Faith isn’t faith if one knows everything will work out perfectly. It is faith precisely because we do not see the way forward. We have to trust it is there.

So I believe. Lord, help me in my unbelief.

Expectations and Disappointments

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Christ always shows a very slender appreciation of any act of religion or of ethics which does not reach beyond the stage of compulsion. What is done because it must be done; because the law requires it, or because society expects it, or because convention prescribes it, or because the doer of it is afraid of consequences if he omits it, may, of course, be rightly done and meritoriously done, but an act on that level is not yet quite in the region where for Christ the highest moral and religious acts have their spring.”

Quaker Theologian Rufus Jones, 1916

What does it mean to have an expectation of other people? Is expecting them to do their best an empty expectation doomed to failure? Is expecting them to live up to their principles and their vows an expectation based upon madness? Is expecting someone else to keep their word the very same as building a house on shifting sands? Do we actually expect it will stand when the rains come?

Sadly, experience tells me that trusting others is perhaps an act of folly. At the same time, while there are times when promises fall flat and it can be insanity to trust other people to do what they say, it is perhaps best to consider the fact that none of us are precisely and perfectly sane all of the time. The religious way of stating this has been that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. If we expect others to be perfect, then we are expecting a perfection that we ourselves know we are incapable of executing. While we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us, most people in the faith I truly respect understand that they are going towards perfection and are not actually absolutely perfect at the moment.

So, how do we know whether or not we should trust others? How do we know whether or not we should place our trust in someone after our heart is broken or promises tossed aside as chaff? I think that Rufus Jones had a wise thought that applies here. Jones points out in “The Inner Life” that there are people who legalistically attempt to live up to the rules of religion. In particular, he takes umbrage with those who take the passage about going the second mile too literally. Surely any religious practice that is willing to literally go another mile without going deeply into the meaning behind the request is looking only at the wrapping paper on the present of Jesus’ words.

Is it good to go the extra mile? Probably! Still, Jones points out a grievous reality within that obedience: “But there was no spontaneity in his religion, no free initiative, no enthusiastic passion, no joyous abandon, no gratuitous and uncalculating acts. He did things enough, but he did them because he had to do them, not because some mighty love possessed him and flooded him and inspired him to go not only the expected mile, but to go on without any calculation out beyond milestones altogether.”

Doing things because they’re just enough is valuable at some level, but that’s not the goal. Similarly, keeping one’s word just because one must or because a person is commanded to do so by some sort of authority is not nearly the same thing as doing something because you are motivated by spontaneous love, free choice, and the gracious life that comes from Christ. There’s a distinct difference between doing something right because one must and doing so because one’s being is expressed through those actions.

This perspective is valuable to me as I continue to question my own ability to make commitments after a past of difficulties. For neither love nor money can I convince someone from my past to give me appropriate access to my children despite their best interests. To be entirely honest, the court system seems equally impotent at showing her any sort of accountability to a standard of behavior. It is like the wild-west to be anywhere near the person from that relationship and it is safer to be out in the desert than walking down the street with all those tumbleweeds.

At one level Jones’ words seem inapplicable. There’s what Jones suggests as Christian behavior, what Jones sees as legalistic behavior, and then there’s just that level of behavior we’re dealing with where both Jesus and the Pharisees would likely shake their heads in disgust. “Go and sin no more” seems like a bit of an understatement.

At another level, consider the fact that the person I want to trust in my life has done none of the things my former partner has done. She has acted honorably, charitably, and graciously. She does things like ask me for my consent and lets me admit that I am just broken without treating me like someone from the isle of misfit toys. She’s doing all the right things and she’s doing them because it comes from the heart and not some pharasitical set of rules. At the moment, she’s the whole package: someone who I like, adore, and who would be an awesome blessing to me and someone I want my children to know.

So, how do we learn to trust? I think the only answer is the one I learned in recovery. We choose to trust one day at a time. When things don’t add up, we remember our own past and the mistakes of our past, consider our own part in things, and, whenever possible, try again. We make consensual amends when our character defects harm others and we are willing to let others make consensual amends to us. We choose to care and to try while understanding that the person we meet today or tomorrow may not be the person that we once met in the past, especially if they are literally not the same person who broke our hearts.

On Pondering Pelagius and Augustine

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

I have spent time lately thinking about the differences in perspective between Pelagius and Augustine. I have been reading a book on Celtic Christianity which is very opinionated on the matter, which has put me in a place to consider the perspectives of both authors.

I have read various works from Augustine several times over the years, but only recently read through some of the letters of Pelagius. I have to admit to having a certain amount of sympathy in my heart towards Pelagius. History is often written by those with power and it is likely that the commonly understood theology of Orthodoxy is written by the “victorious” in a situation where there perhaps should be different categories than winners and losers.

Pelagius does seem to present a world where everything comes from God and I am sympathetic to this worldview. Pelagius wrote:

“We measure the goodness of human nature in relation to its creator, whom we call God. When he created the world, God declared that everything he had made was good. So if every tree and animal, insect and plant is good, how much better is man himself! God made man in his own image; and so he intends each of us to be like him. God has made many animals stronger and faster than human beings. He has given many animals teeth and jaws that are more powerful and sharper than the finest sword. But he has given man intelligence and freedom. We alone are able to recognize God as our maker, and thence to understand the goodness of his creation. Thus we have the capacity to distinguish between good and evil, right and wrong. This capacity means that we do not act out of compulsion; nor need we be swayed by our immediate wants and desires, as animals are. Instead we make choices. Day by day, hour by hour, we have to reach decisions; and in each decision, we can choose good or evil. The freedom to choose makes us like God: if we choose evil, that freedom becomes a curse; if we choose good, it becomes our greatest blessing.”

“The Letters of Pelagius: Celtic Soul Friend” p. 4.

What do we have in this perspective? Free will as a reality when we consider our choices. We have a positive outlook on creation as something created by God with God’s good intent and unassailable power (for who is powerful enough to thwart a God who is omnipotent and desiring to create something good?). There’s a lot of good in there.

At the same time, some people have said the power of Augustine rests, in part, in his view of creation itself and how God relates to that good creation. Depending on your perspective, that’s either a positive or a negative, but views of Augustine are decidedly less clear-cut when you read across a broad spectrum of perspectives. Here’s what he writes about Psalm 145

“Of the things which He hath made, he hath made a step up to Him, not a descent from Him to them. For if thou love these more than Him, thou wilt not have Him. And what profit is it to thee to overflow with the works, if the Worker leave thee? Truly thou shouldest love them; but love Him more, and love them for His sake. For He doth not hold out promises, without holding out threats also: if He held out no promises, there would be no encouragement; if He held out no threats, there would be no correction. They that praise Thee therefore shall “speak” also “of the excellence of Thy terrible deeds;” the excellence of that work of Thy hands which punisheth and administereth discipline, they shall speak of, they shall not be silent: for they shall not proclaim Thine everlasting kingdom, and be silent about Thine everlasting fire. For the praise of God”

Augustine, “Exposition on the Psalms,” Psalm CXLV

It is good to honor creation, but ultimately it is not the Creator. At some level, there’s a very fine distinction here. Both Augustine and Pelagius see that there are choices and that there can be bad choices, but one can read that Augustine has a bit of a harder edge at times.

I love some of what Pelagius writes, but I also understand the need at times for a harder edge like that of Augustine. While some have said Augustine’s theology can be seen as a tool to encourage and empower the connection of Christianity to the more imperialistic aspects of the faith, I can appreciate the need for a firmer hand in theology.

It is great that there are choices, but what do we do when the choices of others cause great harm? Moving beyond the villains of today for a moment, can we sit in comfort while figures in history like clan members, Nazis, colonizers, and other groups leave behind a legacy of pain and sorrow? Isn’t there a place of comfort when there is the promise of paradise and a promise of fire?

Of course, that promise can be frightening. I’m the son of people who some would consider to be an invasive culture in a land that has been stripped of indigenous culture. It is frightening to consider, but sometimes it is good to have a little bit of perspective.

Different ways of walking

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“There is no one exclusive ‘way’ either to the supreme realities or to the loftiest experiences of life. The ‘way’ which we individuals select and proclaim as the only highway of the soul back to its true home turns out to be a revelation of our own private selves fully as much as it is a revelation of a via sacra to the one goal of all human striving. Life is a very rich and complex affair and it forever floods over and inundates any feature which we pick out as essential or as pivotal to its consummation. God so completely overarches all that is and He is so genuinely the fulfillment of all which appears incomplete and potential that we cannot conceivably insist that there shall be only one way of approach from the multiplicity of the life which we know to the infinite Being whom we seek.”

Quaker Scholar Rufus Jones, “The Inner Life” (1916)

I took a day trip with someone very close to me yesterday to the Zoo. I shared my love of trying to eat slippery Chinese food with chopsticks on the way up to Syracuse and we enjoyed a fish fry on the way back. We had lots of time to talk, to ponder life, and to enjoy the animals. It is amazing how much fun it can be to go to the zoo even when you’re not pursuing a small child. We finished the night decorating the Christmas tree I have not put up since 2020.

Towards the end of the evening, we were talking about some of the challenges that come with trying to recover from a divorce. Both of us have had difficult circumstances in our lives and we both have things we did similarly and things we have done differently.

For me, a lot of the journey has revolved around physical ways of pursuing wellness. Recovery from the trauma that led to my divorce included a lot of physical wellness activities as I tried to respond to the stress, fears, and painful sorrows by doing the next right thing in my life. I reinforced my sobriety practices by sticking close to people who had been through difficult times in their programs, worked the twelve steps, and continued to regularly go the therapy and my doctor to make certain everything in the background was running well so I wouldn’t trip over inconsistencies within my own body and mind.

Beyond sobriety, I adopted old spiritual practices that were impractical with kids around to complicate certain activities. I’m pescatarian on Wednesdays and Fridays as a partial fast in the pattern of the Orthodox and in the pattern of early Methodists of fasting on those days. I write out my gratitudes every night and effectively do a version of the Examen blended with a tenth-step inventory. I journal every day.

Also, I walked thousands of miles and began to work my muscles by weightlifting. I dropped over 160 pounds so far! I took my sorrow and I put it in the furnace. I walked through sleet and snow burning through my anger like coal. I did everything I could to take the broken sorrowful parts and to use them as fuel for a self-improving fire to forge a new self instead of turning that anger and sorrow on anyone else, especially avoiding bringing that frustration anywhere near my former partner. There’s a reason there are giant holes in my blog and why I’m not on social media. Heck, I avoid emails in part because it is too easy to let my anger out.

I have done all of these things and I am grateful for all of them. Also, the person I spent time with yesterday did things very differently than me. They handled their sorrow for a longer time and have used their experiences to forge someone I hold dear without some of the tools I have used. Their circumstances were different but similar. As a result of some of those variations, our paths look different and honestly, there are some ways in which the other path looks great. That path looks fantastic when you see what’s beyond the surface of the cheerful things I wrote above.

My shoulders hurt constantly. My body dysmorphia makes it feel like I’m larger than I am and sometimes I reach up to my shoulders and it feels like the bones just beneath my skin shouldn’t be there. It feels like I’m more skeleton than man some days. I sometimes feel incredibly self-conscious and even my muscles aren’t enough to sometimes make me feel safe. Those great phone calls and good friendships in my life are the converse of the grief which threatened to bust down the door if I didn’t get out there and connect with others. It has not been easy.

Sitting with someone who has been through similar things yesterday I heard an invitation to not only be vulnerable but to tell the truth about the fact that my bones ache, my shoulders are sore, and my back is so tight it feels like I have two plates of armor between my shoulder blades and my hips. A lot of things hurt and sometimes it feels as if the pain will never cease.

I have worked so hard to carve my way out of my sorrows and it has been wonderful in so many ways. It also is not the only way forward. I can live a life where my bones hurt less and my shoulders ache less constantly. As a new year dawns, I can set a different goal for something gentler on my body like swimming or rowing. I am not forced to walk this one way. My friend has a different path and their way is worthy of emulating in many ways. Perhaps I need to be slow enough to see where the path diverts and runs slightly askew in the same direction.

Loving that one person

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“We are being invited to call others by their true name, to view them in their deepest identity, to see and think of them not primarily for their failings, but first and foremost in their original nature, made of God. Each one of us is essentially brother of Light, sister of Light, no matter what we have done, even those in whom there appears to be only falseness and violence. At the heart of our being is the light from which we have come. We can choose to live from this place of deepest identity and, at the same time, confront the darkness that violates the light in ourselves and one another. We can call each other back to live from these true depths, not because we have somehow achieved sacredness in our lives, but because we are made of sacredness, pure grace.”

J. Philip Newell, “Sacred Earth, Sacred Soul”

I was recently leading a meeting where we were discussing making amends for our character defects in the past. I won’t acknowledge the group by name, but those who know probably know. It was a deep conversation and has been running through my mind.

How does one come to a place of forgiveness for the sins of others? How can we make amends to someone who has been a source of violence in the past? How can we even begin to make amends to people who say horrifying things like “It was consensual when I hit him”? How do we come to a place where we can even begin to clean up our side of the street when their toxicity is so great that threats and demands are their only way of communication? How do we do that when it is still a fearful thing to even acknowledge such situations are a part of our lives?

I know that I am not the only person who has these questions about people in their lives. Even if you are not in a recovery program, it is really difficult to think kindly of the people who have done real and significant harm to you and the people in your life. Thank goodness the call of Jesus is to love our neighbor and not to like our neighbor. We can sometimes force the verb of loving even if we never get near the feeling of liking someone.

It is with all this in mind while waiting for my computer to process and encode the video of the service from two weeks ago that I came across the paragraph which I have quoted above. I found it in J. Phillip Newell’s book “Sacred Earth, Sacred Soul.” In the paragraph previous Newell writes about John Scotus Eriugena (ca. 817-817 CE) and his view of Lucifer. Eriugena believed deeply that all things have their essential nature come from God. Lucifer is an Angel of Light who has lost connection with that which was meant to be: As Newell puts it, Satan is “an archetype of the false self, living in shadow and exile from his true center.”

Newell states Eriugena’s belief that Satan will one day come around. Although that is not exactly in the scriptures as I read them, I can see the thought process at work. If all things that come from God come to fruition, then creation itself must eventually come to fruition. It is a very generous outlook on creation and perhaps the kindest treatment I have ever read of the figure of Satan. Again, I don’t necessarily agree with the theology, but I can see where it is coming from and the theological and philosophical intent.

In all honesty, the fate of Lucifer is definitely something I see as a matter well above my pay grade. I know what scripture says, which is effectively that the choice of offering salvation rests in the hands of God. As a Gentile, I have been grafted into a tree of salvation through the grace of God. I neither earned salvation nor did anything that makes me worthy of demanding a place at God’s table. I was offered a gift and it is my choice to decide whether or not to accept that gift. If I don’t even have the authority to make such a demand about my own life, I’m certainly not in a place to say whether or not someone else is worthy of grace.

The understanding that I am not the decider of such things is at the very core of why this quote bothers me. There are people in this world who resemble the violently false people described by Newell. There are people who resemble the remark when Newell writes “Each one of us is essentially brother of light, sister of light, no matter what we have done, even those in whom there appears to be only falseness and violence. At the heart of our being is the light from which we have come.”

The person at the farthest on the right of the categories of “Ready to make an amends to them,” “Not quite ready yet to make an amends,” and “I will never make an amends” is a sister of light in the eyes of Newell. I will note that there are no people in that last category for me and I have an open offer to make my amends if and when it is consensual, but even as I am willing to make those amends it is hard to think of that individual as a sister of light given the violence and falseness of the past.

The situation is complicated further by the fact that I just returned from a pilgrimage where I walked through the places and sat in the spaces where people bled and suffered to stand often non-violently for the rights of people who were and are sisters of light, brothers of light, and beloved people of light. This is echoed in Newell as he writes “We can choose to live from this place of deepest identity and, at the same time, confront the darkness that violates the light in ourselves and one another. We can call each other back to live from these true depths, not because we have somehow achieved sacredness in our lives, but because we are made of sacredness, pure grace.”

There’s the rub of it, right? You can live in a place where you stand for what’s right while recognizing that something is inherently good within someone who has been a source of violence and pain. How do we do that with any level of competency? I won’t claim to be an expert, but I think it begins with a perspective like that shared by Eriugena through Newell.

Richard Rolle of Hampole

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“I marvelled more than I can say when I first felt my heart grow warm and burn, truly, not in imagination but as it were with sensible fire. I was indeed amazed at that flame which burst forth within me; and at this unwonted comfort—because of my inexperience of this abundance—I have often felt my breast to see if perchance this heat was due to some outward cause. But when I knew that this fire of love had blazed forth only from within, and was not of the flesh but a gift of my Maker, I was full of joy and dissolved in a desire for yet greater love; and chiefly because of the inflowing of this most sweet delight and internal sweetness which, with this spiritual burning, bedewed my mind to the core. For I had not thought before that such sweet heat and comfort might come to pass in this exile.”

Richard Rolle of Hampole, from “A Translation of the Legenda in the Office Prepare for the Blessed Hermit Richard” in “The Fire of Love” (2015, Aeterna Press)

Richard Rolle of Hampole was a Christian mystic who died in 1349. I have been reading his work “The Fire of Love” as released by Aeterna Press in 2015. As Evelyn Underhill notes in the foreword to the volume, Richard Rolle presented a vision of God’s presence that was marked by heat, sweetness, and song. She states:

“His love was essentially dynamic; it invaded and transmuted all departments of his nature, and impelled him as well to acts of service as to songs of joy. He was no spiritual egotist, no mere seeker for transcendental satisfaction; but one of those for whom the divine goodness and beauty are coupled together in insoluble union, even as ‘the souls of the lover and the loved.’ “

As a Methodist, I have to admit that my attention immediately caught upon the description of a strangely warmed heart. John Wesley is infamous for expressing an experience of similar automatism when reading Martin Luther’s introduction to the Book of Romans on May 24, 1738. I picked up Richard Rolle’s book to trace a quote from an anthology of Christian mystics on the nature of love. I have been trying to sort out my feelings on the subject of love and relationships, so I wanted to have context for Richard Rolle’s words… Yes, I still remember the motto we were taught while studying scripture and philosophy in college: “A text without a context is a pretext for misinterpretation.”

I have yet to find the elusive quote as I think doing a search for the phrase would be rushing into the text without context. Searching on Kindle is wonderful, but some analog methods of study still have merit. What I have found is this interesting correlation between John Wesley and Richard Rolle who both had similar experiences approximately four centuries apart. Like many a Methodist, I caught on Wesley’s description as it reminded me of my own spiritual experiences while coming to faith and growing throughout the years. 

I felt an immediate spiritual kinship with Richard Rolle that I felt with John Wesley. I have spent most of my spiritual life as an adult both in service to God through the United Methodist Church where I am called as a minister and seeking to understand my own relationship to God and neighbor. I am still unpacking the act of God that literally saved my life as a teenager who was on the edge of committing an act of self-harm that could have been fatal. My life on the night of my fifteenth birthday was blanketed with love and my heart was given that sense of warming peace that I had never known. The direction of my life changed although I would continue to struggle with anxiety, depression, and eventually the hidden disease of alcoholism that would come for me as the son of someone who struggled with Johnny Barleycorn for a good portion of the life I shared with her.

All of this to say I feel drawn to Richard Rolle as I continue my life as a minister, a divorcee, and as a person in long term recovery, I am curious about where and how the experiences of Richard Rolle and John Wesley will mirror each other. 

I am also curious about what I will read and resonate with as I read through Richard Rolle’s work from centuries ago. I am curious whether I will see things in a similar perspective to Evelyn Underhill. She stated that in  “examining the passages in which Rolle speaks of that ‘Heat’ which the ‘Fire of Love’ induced in his purified and heavenward turning heart, we see that this denotes a sensual as well as a spiritual experience.” Will I find a more sensual side to this experience than that normally connected with John Wesley? Only time will tell.