Spiritual Life

Conversations and rambles around spiritual matters

Boat Potatoes

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“We often knock Peter because, as we’ll see in a moment, he’s going to take his eyes off of Jesus and begin to sink. But notice the other eleven disciples never even thought about getting out of the boat. Ortberg calls them ‘boat potatoes.’ They stayed where they were. They remained in the boat because they were afraid of what could happen if they moved beyond it.”

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

It is impossible for me to overstate how much I appreciate the fact that the term “boat potatoes” exists. This is single-handedly one of the funniest descriptions of something that happens all the time that I have read in a very long time.

Am I guilty of being a “boat potato?” Probably! There have definitely been points where I have just shrugged and gone along with life because that’s simply how a person is supposed to live their life. Can I think of a moment where I have been a boat potato recently?

I don’t know if I have or not. The thing about the other eleven disciples is that we learn that they are, in fact, boat potatoes, because Simon Peter steps out of the boat. If Simon Peter wasn’t there, then we might perhaps just think of them as ordinary people who would never step out of a boat. As already covered this week in an earlier post, sitting in the boat is the sensible thing to do. It would be weird to try and walk on the water in the first place. It would be absolutely bonkers to consider getting out of the boat onto the surface of the lake in the middle of a storm.

They are revealed as being boat potatoes because one of them decided to put himself into a potato cannon of faith and light the ignitor by asking Jesus if he could come out on the water. Without the revelatory presence of SImon Peter, there’s no way to know.

So, am I another boat potato? I guess the only way to know is to look around me and see whether or not I am just sitting in the boat. Alternatively, if I look around and notice nobody is out on the water with me, am I just unhinged or am I proving, definitively, that I am not a boat potato?

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.

It does sound stupid

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Have you ever thought about what an odd thing that is to say in this situation? It sounds almost idiotic. I try to put myself in Peter’s position. I don’t know what Jesus is doing, or how he’s doing it, but if I see him walking on the water in a storm that might cause me to drown, I imagine I would say, ‘Jesus, come get in the boat!’ I’d even throw him a life jacket. I’d reach out my hand to help pull him in. But Peter does the opposite. He has the audacity to ask Jesus to bid him to step out of the boat and walk on the water. That gives you a clue as to why Peter is the prince of the apostles. When everyone else was too scared or too confused to respond, Peter took the lead. He alone thought to himself, ‘If Jesus can walk on the water, maybe I can do it too.’ ”

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

I think we should all agree that Rev. Hamilton is correct. What Peter does in this telling of the story is absolutely strange. Who, being in the right frame of mind, would possibly make that same choice to decide to get out of a perfectly good boat to walk on the water? Simon Peter actually stepped out of the boat and onto the water just moments after everyone around him was freaking out and believing that Jesus was a ghost.

You know those videos that have the security camera footage where the absolutely unexplainable happens? You know, those weird videos where one moment everything will be quiet and the next moment there’s a disembodied head floating past a window. Jesus is effectively out there like a disembodied head in the window and Peter says, “Hey, I should go over there!”

Why? Peter, why? Who goes into the dark basement when there’s a serial killer on the loose? Who goes for a walk through the graveyard when that weird meteorite is passing over head and letting off strange radiation? Who gets out of a sailboat in the middle of a storm when there’s almost not chance you could swim through the wind and the waves?

Simon Peter, that’s who. Rev. Hamilton calls him the prince of the disciples and I have to be honest, that’s a weird way to describe someone who risked winning the Darwin Award. Hamilton puts it clearly:

“Peter had been working on the water for his entire adult life. His experience had taught him that getting out of a boat on the lake meant that a person either would have to sink or swim; walking was not an option. And in a storm like that, and being far from shore, swimming wasn’t much of an option either. Yet here was Simon Peter, stepping out of the boat, no life jacket, no life buoy. Just Jesus.”

What Peter does in this story is completely off the rails and is profoundly absurd. Peter arguably does one of the craziest things a person does in scripture. Peter also is the only one of twelve who came to know what it was like to walk on water that day. Rev. Hamilton does point out that Peter waits for Jesus to invite him instead of just stepping out of the boat, but it is still an arguably unhinged thing to even think to ask such a question.

Perhaps the difference between being faithful and being unhinged is, occasionally, a matter of perspective. It is an interesting to consider now and again.

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.

Jesus and the tiller

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Jesus may not make the storm go away, as he did for Peter and the disciples. The cancer may still be there. The spouse may still be gone. But Jesus is riding it out with us, and somehow that makes the storm less terrifying. That is part of what the Christian’s spiritual life is about. Feeling Jesus’ presence with us enables us to be calmed, even if the storm is raging all around us.”

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

I grew up on Lake Erie, which is much larger than either the Sea of Galilee or the Lake of the Ozarks which Rev. Hamilton so often references in our chapter this week. My father owned a twenty-four-foot sailboat which, as we read, is about the length of the boats from the time of Jesus. We would sail regularly as children, especially after my mother passed away. Grief is a tough thing and my father did what he had to do to survive difficult days while coping with the loss of his wife.

In our chapter this week, Rev. Hamilton writes about how comforting it is to know that Jesus is there with us when the storms rise. It reminded me of a popular song about Jesus taking the wheel of life as we go down the road of life. It is a beautiful and catchy song, but it differs from my experience of things in recent years.

A few years ago my life fell apart. Within a year and a half a pandemic struck, my disease hit a critical point, what was left of my marriage disintegrated, and I became more of a thing than a person in my own home. I once was given the opportunity to have a say in my own life, but was treated like a wounded animal that needed to be put down instead of as a human being with rights and a family. It isn’t pretty to say, but it does help to point out and normalize the conversation that these things happen to people of every gender, age, educational level, and station in life.

To be honest, it would have been the perfect time to have Jesus take the wheel of life. The problem is that the wheels on the car kept driving straight towards oblivion. I wanted to let go: don’t answer the mail, don’t go to work, don’t answer the phone, and certainly don’t tell people what was happening in my life. If Jesus had the wheel then personal responsibility was meaningless. It would have been great to just let go, but what would happen if I didn’t do what needed to be done next? I would probably be dead from either a resurfacing of my disease that I had spent years seeking to overcome or from being thrown out of my home for not doing the work I am called to do with my life.

As a kid on that boat, I was once going out with my father into a storm to ride on the winds and waves. We were going to go bow-first into the waves so that the winds wouldn’t toss us off course. My father went below deck for maybe five seconds. I moved the tiller a little to one side and we nearly capsized. In a moment the already frightening situation went from scary to terrifying. I thought we were going to die. To be honest, it is impressive that nobody was hurt or killed.

It is dangerous to let go of the tiller or to treat it as anything less than a critical piece of machinery upon which your life can depend. It is equally dangerous to just let go of the wheel and hope it will point down the road.

For me, one of the most important things in this chapter is the fact that Rev. Hamilton points out that Jesus is in the boat with us in the middle of the storms of life. Jesus’ presence does not mean that the storms will always cease or that there won’t be moments of chaotic fear, but it does give us the hope that we are not alone. Even as we gingerly hold the tiller, we do not need to face the storms alone.

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.

Normalizing Storms

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“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.

Fear in the midst of Deep Waters

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“Many of the things that Jesus calls us to do leave us feeling a bit afraid. For me, that included answering the call to full-time ministry and starting a church, but it was also getting married, having children, caring for people I don’t know, going to places I’ve never been, giving money I didn’t think I could spare. In a thousand ways he’s had to reassure me with the words, ‘Don’t be afraid’ before he called me to his mission in the moment, for the day, in my life.”

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

Sometimes it is difficult to identify with an author’s words instead of attempting to tear them down. I have never quite moved beyond that desire to be the smartest person in every room, and sometimes the old temptations of academia rear their bedeviling heads to encourage me to tear down the words of others.

At the same time, it is good to admit when someone’s words touch your soul. Yes, there are times the things I am called to do with my life leave me genuinely nervous or fearful. Ministers from my Annual Conference are already paid sparingly with our Annual Conference being one of the conferences with the lowest average compensation. I would likely make nearly twice as much if I lived in Georgia, but still have to pay off the same educational loans for the same educational standards. Add child support and car payments on top of the already difficult financial situation I was left in a few years ago, and yes: I completely understand it when Rev. Hamilton says that there are times when a call to generosity can inspire fear.

I am not alone in financial concerns and financial concerns are not the only place God calls us to trust. I live where the bishop sends me, but for many, the choice of where one chooses to live can mean living life alongside people whom Jesus would have us love despite our own inclinations. Others are called to live in places where forgiveness is a test of one’s faith and one’s patience. Still, others are called to trust doctors as the growth of cancer continues to plague the test results.

There are many places in life where the choice to trust God like Simon Peter is challenging, but Rev. Hamilton is absolutely correct when he asserts that God is there. God is there even in the uncomfortable bits. God is perhaps especially there in those moments.

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.

Regularly Reluctant

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“There are times when Jesus asks us to do things that we don’t want to do, when we feel tired, or when what we’re being asked to do seems to make no sense to us. I have, on many occasions, been a very reluctant disciple. For us, the deep water is the place where Jesus calls us to go when we’d rather stay on the shore. We feel Christ calling and we drag our feet, and sometimes we even say no.”

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

There’s an old story that has been going around for what seems to be as long as I have been a Christian. The story is often called “Footprints in the Sand.” It tells the story of Jesus looking back over the life of someone as she notes that there are two sets of footprints on the beach of life. Sometimes the two are there together, side by side. Sometimes one set walks alone.

The faithful woman looks to Jesus with disappointment and talks about how sad it was to walk alone through the dark times. To her surprise, Jesus gently tells her that she is mistaken. Where there are only two feet walking in the sand, it isn’t that God was absent in such moments. Instead, those were the moments where Jesus was carrying her.

My favorite versions of the story then have the woman asking about the places where there is one set of footprints and two long ditches. Sometimes, she dug in her heels and had to be pulled along. In the really amusing versions, Jesus then goes on to explain the trails of fingerprints desperately clawing into the earth.

Do I identify with Rev. Hamilton saying that there are moments where we sometimes selectively listen, drag our feet, or even say no to God’s call on our lives? Yes. I will admit that I have had moments where I selectively listened, drug my own feet, and even said no with a stamping foot. Was that healthy? Generally not, but the past is what it is and there’s no going back to change things.

Sometimes I have absolutely said no to what God had for me. For years I refused to talk about my experiences, refused to ask for help, and even turned away the people who expressed concern about the ways I was dealing with my stress. To use recovery language, I was building up resentments and using tools to deal with problems that would eventually become problems as big as the original challenges. Instead of saying yes to God and yes to others, I determinedly and pig-headedly stuck to my plan. I didn’t need help, I didn’t need assistance, and I didn’t need anyone to advocate for me.

I was stubborn as a mule and was treated like one as a result of my own choices. Instead of saying no and asking for help, I become more and more entangled with my own pride. Hear me clearly: even when other issues raged, my pride was debilitating. Was Jesus there at my side offering help? Yes. Could I have asked for help at any time? Yes. Could I have even listened when people asked why I was being verbally assaulted in a gas station in front of church members by my partner? Yes. Did I do such things? No. I refused to go out into the water. I refused to let down my nets. I refused to ask for help and I continue to pay the consequences for not calling for help when violence entered my life by my own choices.

Here is some good news. I don’t have to be pig-headed today. I can choose to love someone who loves me back, choose to offer her my best while offering her the ability to set her own boundaries, and I can set my own boundaries and expect her to honor them. I can not only recover from that side of things, but I can ask her to support me as I recover from my disease. How wonderful is it when a relationship is healthy enough that the boundaries and enouragements become a given when neither person wants to hurt the other one?

Friends, you can go into the deep waters and let down the nets. You can recover even if you struggle with substance abuse and/or domestic violence. You can find community to love you and support you both within church doors and within twelve-step groups. You can let the nets down when God asks you to set out into deep waters.

Will it be easy? Maybe not. Will you be reluctant? I once was. Will it be better even when all of the comfortable things that go with the bad things go away? Someday, yes, but it takes time. There is hope and you don’t have to do things alone.

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.

Beyond Inconvenience

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Has anyone ever asked you to do something, and you really didn’t want to do it because it was an inconvenience? Perhaps you were tired—and yet you did it anyway? Here’s what Peter would learn again and again: Jesus routinely inconveniences his followers.“

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

I have a less-than-serious confession to make. Over the past few years, I have had a few moments where I have looked at the world around me and felt as if there is a giant conspiracy. The conspirators are in my home with me. Late at night, I can almost hear them whispering. Sometimes it seems like the dishes are conspiring against me. No matter how often I clean them and put them away, it seems they are only too eager to congregate in my sink, the drying rack, or the dishwasher. Cleaning the dishes never ends. They’re all out to get me and living on my own means this endless war comes with no respite and there is no quarter either taken or given.

The dishes are, thankfully, generally peaceful. True, occasionally a sharp knife will take a stab at moving from a helpful tool to an attempted assassin, but in general they are an inconvenience at worst. Sure, sometimes someone will drop by and I will feel as if my very life will be judged based on how clean the sink looks, but that’s rarely happened.

Somehow, I do struggle with the word choice in the section I wanted to identify with today. It is certainly true that people are inconvenienced by Christ all the time in the gospels. I am certain that Simon Peter would like to go in and rest after a long night of fishing. Rowing out, loading the nets, casting the nets one last time, and even looking at the smirk I imagine on the face of Christ had to be inconvenient. Being around the Messiah who lays around the table chatting after the meal and who is regularly accused of hanging out with sinners probably meant that there was more than one time when life was more complicated than working a nine-to-five, grabbing takeout, and crashing at home. There were people to see, lives to heal, and the time had come for change. Working for change is rarely convenient.

Rev. Hamilton is absolutely right that the Living One calls us to moments of inconvenience. If you’ll notice, I am absolutely avoiding the word “but” as I do not wish to diminish the quite accurate point made by Rev. Hamilton. Also, sometimes Jesus asks us to go beyond inconvenience to sacrifice. In the story being considered, Jesus preaching from Simon Peter’s boat, the most requested of Simon Peter is an inconveniencing moment or two that ends up blessing both Simon Peter and the families around Simon Peter who would have otherwise had no obvious ways to provide after an abysmal night.

The challenge is that there are places in most of our lives where we know we are being called beyond inconvenience. There are people who place unreasonable demands on us and times when it feels like there is not enough in the bank account to be generous. There are times when cards are declining and times when we just want to go home but that friend really needs help. There are times when we are called to give beyond what is convenient into the realm of genuinely offputting or uncomfortable levels.

Sometimes, Jesus routinely asks his followers to give at such levels. We want a lovely church, we want people to find Jesus, and we want people in the pews. It can be inconvenient to offer to give someone a ride for a single Sunday. It can be truly offputting to realize that they will need help every Sunday for the foreseeable future. It can be inconvenient to be asked to give a box of stuffing at the holidays to help feed the family down the street and it can be beyond inconvenient when your neighbor next door is hungry and you only made enough food for one person.

Jesus still calls us to be faithful. Also, when we need help, we seemingly can trust that the moment will come when we can lower our nets for a catch. Both inconvenience and provision take place in this story. We can trust God in both.

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?

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“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.

Incandescent Arcs

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“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.

Joy as a Subterranean Spring

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“True joy is not a thing of moods, not a capricious emotion, tied to fluctuating experiences It is a state and condition of the soul. It survives through pain and sorrow and, like a subterranean spring, waters the whole life. It is intimately allied and bound up with love and goodness, and so is deeply rooted in the life of God. Joy is the most perfect and complete mark and sign of immortal wealth, because it indicates that the soul is living by love and by goodness, and is very rich in God.”

Quaker theologian Rufus Jones, “The Inner Life”, 1916

Today I returned two of my three kids to their mother after too short a visit. My ride home was marked by tears and a blessing as it was the first time in years I had not ridden alone. Upon reaching our destination I still had to wash off saline streaks from my face, but it was an improvement.

Jones wrote about joy filling our lives like a subterranean stream. Such watering keeps the soil moist even through moments where everything is dried out under the harsh light of sadness. I want to feel such joy in my life. I do feel such joy even if it feels fleeting at times.

God, grant me your joy.
Even as the harsh winds howl, 
soak arid taproots
and keep green in me the hope
by which my core first sprouted.

Grief and Pain

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

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 Lack of Consensus in Advent

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“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?

Aiming at dissolving

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Persons of the blessed life, Christ says, are the saving salt of the earth. They carry their wholesome savor into everything they touch. They do not try to save themselves. They are ready like salt to dissolve and disappear, but, the more they give themselves away, the more antiseptic and preservative they become to the society in which they live. They keep the old world from spoiling and corrupting not by attack and restraint, not by excision and amputation, but by pouring the preservative savor of their lives of goodness into all the channels of the world. This preservative and saving influence on society depends, however, entirely on the continuance of the inner quality of life and it will be certain to cease if ever the salt lose its savor, i.e. if the soul of religion wanes or dies away and only the outer form of it remains.”

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

I have an apparently unpopular opinion about the very nature of Christianity. Christianity was never supposed to be a legalistic religion that helps others to “grow” by controlling their actions. The scriptures speak about grafting and pruning branches. John 15 begins by sharing how Jesus is the true vine while we are the branches. There is precedence for grafting and pruning, but the action taken in John 15 is the action of Jesus’ Abba. Authority is not given to the church to make those decisions in John 15.

Are there places where authority is given to the disciples to bind and unbind with authority? Yes, but let’s be clear: that authority is tied intrinsically to remaining in the branches. John 15:7 says in the Common English Bible, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you.” Speaking a chapter later, John 16:8-11 says: “When he comes, he will show the world it was wrong about sin, righteousness, and judgment. He will show the world it was wrong about sin because they don’t believe in me. He will show the world it was wrong about righteousness because I’m going to the Father and you won’t see me anymore. He will show the world it was wrong about judgment because this world’s ruler stands condemned.”

Again, please note that the Holy Spirit is given the task of conviction, correction, and revelation. The church may testify to the work of the Spirit and seek to share the wisdom first shared through the word of God, but the work ultimately rests with the Holy Spirit. Even if the church is given authority to bind things in heaven and on earth, the primary work of conviction, correction, and revelation lies first and foremost with the Holy Spirit.

If that work is truly reliant upon the work of the Holy Spirit, why do people act on behalf of the church to set about converting the world through legalistic methods? Is it merely a case of audacious people taking too much power into their hands? Is it a natural result of being raised in a world where we have conflated personal opinion with democratic or representative power?

Way back in 1916, Rufus Jones entered into the ongoing conversation with the quote above. Jones spends the paragraphs prior to this section discussing the difference between the church using organization to spread the faith and spreading the faith by becoming spiritually contagious. To be entirely honest, I find Jones’ description of the church to be both amusing and a source of personal melancholy:

“The way of organization, which is as old as human history, is too familiar to need any description. Our age has almost unlimited faith in it. If we wish to carry a live idea into action, we organize. We select officials. We make ‘motions.’ We pass resolutions. We appoint committees or boards or commissions. We hold endless conferences. We issue propaganda material. We have street processions. We use placards and billboards. We found institutions, and devise machinery. We have collisions between ‘pros’ and ‘antis’ and stir up enthusiasm and passion for our ’cause.’ The Christian Church is probably the most impressive instance of organization in the entire history of man’s undertakings.”

Rufus Jones, 1916

I say it makes me a bit sad because I have seen how the church as an organization often seeks to guide others through legislation. I once served on my Conference’s Social Holiness team and worked with the Peace with Justice program because I had yet to come to my current understanding that legislation does little to nothing to change things. Even now, I only submit resolutions for consideration that are about considering and promoting ideals and conversation. I do not seek specific legalistic changes or purposes but instead, seek opportunities for conversation and growth.

The church is great at organizing in this way and it can be helpful to organize this way when we are in conversation about how we live together in the community, but I don’t see this as an effective strategy when interacting with the world outside of the church community. Partially I hold this viewpoint because I have seen the church organize to exercise shears in pruning the world around it. Partially I hold this viewpoint because I agree with Jones when he talks about how the church was meant to work in a different way.

Rufus Jones uses the simile of comparing the church to salt within a world that needs a preservative. On one level, this isn’t my favorite simile as there are things that need alteration instead of preservation. The church should not, for example, act as a preservative for institutions that are inherently antithetical to the gospel. For example, people aren’t property or disposable assets, so all people must have the same rights if we truly believe that those rights are given to all people by God.

If one parent has a right to see their child and be a part of their life, then, when all things are equal before a God who created both parents, both must have the same rights. If a white defendant is given the right to proper advocacy because they grew up in one community, then a bipoc defendant must have the right to the same advocacy if we are to argue that both matter equally before the throne of God. If a religious person is given the right to exercise their faith freely before everyone because that is their right as discerned by our nation, then as a people we must give the same right to a person without the same beliefs as those freely exercising their faith.

So, the salt analogy is not a perfect analogy, but it is a pretty good one. Sometimes our call is to understand that we may not be able to force our way and definitively should not force our ways upon other people. There are times when our call is to suffer so that others may one day live without the same struggles. There are times when we suffer, our families suffer, and even people with mental illness are supported in their dysfunction by a system that is blind to its own brokenness. It is only through suffering publicly that change can come. Sometimes we need to stand up and get in the way with the understanding that we will likely be crushed before the institutions speeding towards us.

So, how do we live that out? We do not necessarily organize a legalistic campaign, Sometimes our strongest advocacy comes from growing in strength, light, and power without using marketing tools, focus groups, or even laws. We seek to let our goodness fill us and pour into the world around us. It is easy to run over a traffic cone in the lane of life, but it is another matter when that obstacle has a face, has a space, and is an inherently good part of the world around it. Sometimes the way of the martyr only works because we let it happen while living to the best of our ability.

So, is the way that Jones suggests living necessarily easy? No, it certainly is not easy. It is especially difficult when we consider the fact that some of us live in situations that are unjust and that suffering for the sake of the gospel compounds into the suffering we already experience on a regular basis. It might even be worth saying that those who can choose to suffer alongside others perhaps have an imperative to act like salt when it means that those who are already dissolving need not dissolve alone.

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.

On Properly Balanced Regret

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Sin with despair is certain death. Let no one therefore say, If already any evil
thing I have done, already I am to be condemned: God pardoneth not such evil things, why
add I not sins to sins? I will enjoy this word in pleasure, in wantonness, in wicked cupidity:
now hope of amendment having been lost, let me have even what I see, if I cannot have what I believe.”

St. Augustine, Commentary on Psalm 51 from “Exposition on the Psalms”

I was doing some preparatory work for the upcoming Advent study by tracing down the quotes used in the book we will be using during the upcoming season when I came across this passage in St. Augustine’s exposition on Psalm 51. The book references Augustine’s work but doesn’t actually share what Augustine wrote, which is a pet peeve of mine as “Text without a context is a pretext for misinterpretation.” When a person does not have the text itself to misinterpret or even a semi-accurate paraphrase, I feel as if the appeal to authority (in this case Augustine’s authority as one of the patristic fathers, which is weird in a book focused on the Methodists centuries later) is weakened.

Literary critique aside, despite the assertion of the author that Augustine wants us to look at God’s grace and work instead of our own sinfulness, Augustine does at certain points explicitly state that there is a definite need to personally identify with and deal with one’s own struggles and even sinful choices. Augustine is quite clear that even those who are pardoned from sin must still bear the weight of their deeds:

“ ‘For, behold, truth Thou hast loved: uncertain and hidden things of Thy wisdom,
Thou hast manifested to me’ (ver. 6). That is, Thou hast not left unpunished even the sins
of those whom Thou dost pardon. ‘Truth Thou hast loved:’ so mercy Thou hast granted
first, as that Thou shouldest also preserve truth. Thou pardonest one confessing,
pardonest, but only if he punisheth himself: so there are preserved mercy and truth: mercy
because man is set free; truth, because sin is punished.”

St. Augustine, Commentary on Psalm 51 from “Exposition on the Psalms”

It is an interesting thing to consider: the relationship between pardon, mercy, and punishment. To a certain extent, Augustine certainly had a point. He points to Nineveh in the Book of Jonah as an example. Pardon is received by the people of that city, but only after they themselves have accepted their need for humility and chastisement. Pardon occurs in the story of Jonah after the acceptance of guilt and after the choice to adopt a position of humility.

As a person in recovery, there is certainly something to be said about the fact that I truly and fully rely on the mercy of a God who forgives and accepts me. I also understand that there’s a weight to the things I have done in the past and have to put in the time to make amends for the things I have done. I understand there is a relationship between pardon, mercy, and punishment.

I don’t think focusing on the grace of God to the complete exclusion of personal responsibility is something we want to do on a regular basis. Did Augustine believe in the power of Christ to bring about change in the lives of individuals? Absolutely, but Augustine did not present the Good News of pardon and mercy at the exclusion of personal responsibility. As Augustine warns us in the quote at the top of this entry, there’s certainly a point at which the weight of sin can dishearten people to the point of giving in to sorrow and grief instead of believing in grace. At the same time, that grace does not draw away from the need to honestly reflect and work on the sin in our lives.

Perhaps all of this is overly complicating what was a point meant to be looked over in passing by an author who is not hinging their thesis on this point, but it does help at times to double-check the sources being quoted and whether or not those sources say what the author in the middle is trying to say.

On Balance with the Fruit

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In two hours I will be leading worship and sharing a message as the capstone of a series on the Fruit of the Spirit. We have been going individually through each of the Fruit for the past nine weeks. This week we will be looking at the context of the Fruit by considering how they stand in contrast to the works of the flesh.

It is difficult to express just how delicate it can be to balance the hard truth of scripture against the attitudes, personalities, and sub-cultures within the church. I am reminded of Rufus Jones’ words as I prepare this morning. In case you’re wondering, I am reading Rufus Jones to help grow my understanding of Howard Thurman, whose works I continue to adore.

The following passage stood out in Jones’ writings this week.

“Most persons are strangely prone to use the ‘principle of parsimony.’ They appear to have a kind of fascination for the dilemma of either-or alternatives. ‘Faith’ or ‘works’ is one of these great historic alternatives. But this cleavage is too artificial for full-rounded reality. Each of these ‘halves’ cries for its other, and there cannot be any great salvation until we rise from the poverty of either half to the richness of the united whole which includes both ‘ways.’ ”

Rufus Jones, The Inner Life (1916)

Jones goes on to lay out the challenge that he faced in his day, which we continue to face today:

“Over against the mystic who glories in the infinite depths of his own soul, the evangelical, with excessive humility, allows not even a spark of native grandeur to the soul and denies that the inner way leads to anything but will-o’-the-wisps. This is a very inept and unnecessary halving of what should be a whole. It spoils religious life, somewhat as the execution of Solomon’s proposal would have spoiled for both mothers the living child that was to be divided. Twenty-five hundred years ago Heraclitus of Ephesus declared that there is ‘a way up and a way down and both are one.; So, too, there is an outer way and an inner way and both are one. It takes both diverse aspects to express the rich and complete reality, which we mar and mangle when we dichotomize it and glorify our amputated half.”

Rufus Jones, The Inner Life (1916)

There’s something beautiful about the way that Jones effectively humbles both the self-absorbed mystic and the dogmatic evangelical which still stands the test of time. What a great turn of phrase: we ineptly and unnecessarily halve something that should have remained whole. To live with only half of what should be a whole is, by nature, a form of spiritual poverty.

Why does this rest foremost in my thoughts as I prepare today? The Fruit of the Spirit should show themselves with a certain level of evidence in our lives both in mystical and evangelical ways. Paul describes the works of the flesh as being an expression of selfish desire.

A purely mystic Christianity that is only interested in navel-gazing while ignoring the needs of others to both have social necessities and spiritual necessities is dangerously at risk of living out of a place of spiritual bankruptcy. Similarly, an Evangelical Christianity that is so concerned with either converting others or providing for the needs of others without ever considering the spiritual aspects of others and of one’s own need for humility is also at risk. The two halves of a Christianity that embraces both should never have been cleaved in two and to the extent that we pursue the Fruit of the Spirit while holding a meat cleaver, we are dangerously at risk.

Loving that one person

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“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.

“Tumbling Rocks”

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Some friends recently blessed me with a rock tumbler. Although it seems strange, it was quite thoughtful. I wander around in the wilderness often these days. You do not need a full wallet to enjoy the forest. You do not need a credit card to walk on stone covered beaches. Living in a space with gorges and wilderness means there are plenty of places to search for rocks.

Today the first stage of tumbling came to an end: rocks gathered on New Year’s have spent a week tumbling together through the new possibilities. I have checked on them as they tumbled through the days: rotating over and over, first visible but then swallowed in the slurry of grit and water. In time, even bits of themselves joined in the chaotic tumbling. Washed, dried, and looked over, each rock is the same yet different. With reluctance, they are tumbling again with finer grit. There is a lot of tumbling in their future.

I sympathize with a rock for the first time in my life. I journey in shoes that have walked down long roads. My feet have grown calloused only through painful blisters and my legs have known spasming muscles waking me from the deepest slumber. My heart and soul have wounds to match as the days have not been nearly as beautiful as I once imagined. There are pieces of me that I will never have back and there are edges rounded off of my heart through night after night of tumbling through life’s grit-filled wasteland. Aye, there is beauty, but that beauty has come at a great cost.

Tumbled and jostled
through the dark days and cold nights
as life grinds it all

Meeting Poetry

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These haiku/tanka-formatted poems have come out of long meetings with difficult conversations around the church community. I write poetry to express feelings and thoughts that might disrupt or aggravate during meetings. I share them later, without context, for they continue to inspire me to consider what words I use, what notions I carry, and that I, too, might have blind spots.

Problematic words:
dividing with our notions
and cutting our ties
"We" "Ours" "I" "My" "Mine"
There is a space between us
that is shown in words
The apple and tree:
growing in their own spaces
but sharing some roots.
Hubris, pride, self-righteousness:
can't you see the path ahead?

Longest Night Service: Prayer Poem

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Innkeeper, street vendor, wool weaver: all sleeping.
Traveler, road watcher, bread baker: all dreaming.
Carpenter, brick layer, clay potter: all dozing.
Cold shepherd, star gazer, wise midwife: wide awake.

Young soldier, wise rabbi, landowner: all abed.
Census staff, messengers, young children: all snoring.
Important, powerful, the “normal”: they miss it.
The outcast, the restless, the strange ones: they hear first.

Heartbroken, discarded, pushed away: still awake.
Broken souls, groaning ones, frightened folk: open eyes.
Mourning lives, empty chairs, lonely ones: let them see
Christmas comes first for those who need the hope’s light most.

No tinsel, no label, no price tag: love comes down.
For the lost, for the sad, for the hurt: love comes down.
Through the tears, through the dark, through the grief: love comes down.
Emmanuel, Prince of peace, Savior: Love and Light,
Meet us here where we wait, wide awake and in need.

Rev. Robert Dean, Composed December 15, 2022; First Shared at Trumansburg UMC’s Blue Christmas Service December 21, 2022;
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Different Holidays

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One of the strangest things about the holidays is dealing with the expectations of other people. I say that it is a strange thing, because it can be quite surreal and odd at times. People have expectations about what it means to celebrate holidays that are often reinforced by the culture at large. Holidays are meant to be “happy.” There are expectations that people will be spending time with loved ones and friends.

Everyone has an image of what the holidays are meant to be, but on occasion they come across someone like me: a person-shaped stumbling block between them and their ideal vision of the world. People are meant to be with people they love at the holidays, but that person over there has no great plans. People are supposed to see their loved ones and families, but my only close family in state is traveling to see the rest of my family while I remain behind to work. People are going out of the way to see kids and grandkids while I am waiting for a court order to take effect that hasn’t even been filed at this point. If everything works out, I just may see some of my kids for the New Year weekend, but I’m not even bothering to assume that will happen at this point.

Some people try to fix the problem by inviting me to come and join their holidays, which is lovely, but I want to see my family for the holidays. Some people try to fix the problem by suggesting a new legal strategy or by urging me to somehow force other people to do things they are not willing to do. Some people get quite frenetic about fixing things.

They can’t fix things though. To use recovery language, there are things I can change and things I cannot change. For the people trying to help, there are things they can change and things they cannot change. I would love it if they had a solution based on the things that they can do, but the reality is that there is no solution that falls under the category of “feasible.”

As my attorney put it, there is a system of order in our country, not a system of justice. The system is biased and unfortunately it would take a truly criminal act on behalf of my former partner for me to even be heard. It doesn’t matter if my former partner is, in the words of my attorney, the least cooperative and least Christian person he has seen while working in the family court system. The system does not care and that’s not going to change today. As one person put it quite clearly: “Family courts don’t separate children from their mothers. Period. Hard stop.”

In truth, without going into the religious aspects of things, there’s only one person who could truly change any of this: my former partner. If she had some kind of Christmas Carol experience things might change, but dreams of vengeance seem to be the only dreams she has carried for most of a decade. I’m no stumbling block on the path to her happy holiday, for I am the refuse tossed by the side of the road to be discarded and forgotten by her, her children, and everyone she knows.

So, yeah, there’s no amount of turkey and stuffing that will make this a happy holiday. There’s no party or gift that will suddenly make things better. There isn’t even the possibility of cupid coming on the scene with hope for the future, for even the idea of trusting someone in those ways is beyond my grasp. Every time that idea even comes to the surface it is shot down with extreme prejudice. I simply am a stumbling block between others and their ideal vision of the world.

My holidays are different and they’re not suddenly going to get better regardless of what you do. In a few weeks I’ll get another year older, another year wiser, and thanks to circumstances, I will probably be a little more of a miser who needs to pinch every penny so he can pay for his kids to have another happy year without him as he remains out of sight and out of mind. These holidays are going to be hard and there’s no getting around that reality.

I wish you could fix my holiday too, friend. Unfortunately, the only thing I want for Christmas is something nobody can provide.

A Strange Advent Feeling

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I don’t really have a Christmas tree desire this year. I love a good Christmas tree and have a lot of fond memories over the years, but this year I am probably not going to put up a tree. There’s a wreath by my garage door and I’ve got my ugly Christmas sweater game on point. No tree though.

Trees are for presents. Trees are for gifts. Trees are for family and I’m not the kind of pet owner who will put presents under the tree for my dog or the fish. I’m getting presents for others, but there’s really no need for a tree.

Instead, this is the year of the Advent Wreath. I’ve put together a really cheesy electric wreath from an inexpensive five candle window candelabra. Three dollars of cheap paint and putting the “wreath” on a smart switch: we’re good to go!

As you can see, cheap is the name of the game, but the other side of things is that it is meaningful to me. Each time I have seen the wreath since I have put it up, I have begun singing the Advent Song from The Faith We Sing: “Candle, candle, burning bright: shining in the cold winter’s night. Candle, candle, burning bright: fill our hearts with Christmas light.”

I don’t need presents. but I do need light. I don’t need wrapping paper, but I do need to be wrapped in hope. I don’t need a continual reminder that there’s nobody here, but I do need to see the light growing week after week.

What do I want for Christmas? Hope, love, joy, and peace. Burn candles, burn.

A Poem born from Lamentations

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The other day I shared a blessing from the United Methodist Book of Worship “For a Victim or Survivor of Crime or Oppression.” Since that day I have been working toward raising awareness by writing poetry based on the suggested poetry found in that blessing.

Today I wrote a poem based on Lamentations 3:1-24, which can be found in the Common English Bible through this hyperlink. As I pondered the reading, it seemed pretty dark at first. I was wondering what the compilers of the Book of Worship were thinking until I came across the shift from verses 19-24, which I found startling and incredibly powerful.

Verse 19 compares the feelings of homelessness and affliction to being poisoned to the brim with bitterness. I understood those feelings as I consider my past. I remember more than the feelings that came about in the first days after I filed for divorce. I remembered tears from a broken heart behind closed doors, sodden pillowcases, and the bitter feeling of knowing that promises made at the altar meant nothing. The shame, the guilt, the uselessness, and futility still come to mind easily even after time has begun to heal my wounds.

After all of this comes to mind, does Jeremiah give up hope? No, instead the very pain in Jeremiah’s soul transforms from a place of broken doubt to a place of stubborn waiting. The grief and loss do not translate into a faithless existence but into a spirit that will steadfastly wait for God to act. This! This is a feeling I know! “Waking” after sleepless nights, pulling on my boots, and stepping into my role as a minister with all of the confidence I could despite my own sorrow. This I know!

Helping church members say goodbye to loved ones with the compassion that comes from knowing what it is like to come home to an empty home! That was an act of faithful waiting! Sharing communion with people with the understanding that comes from knowing what it means to share a “meal” with others when you eat alone the rest of the week. That was an act of faithful waiting! Listening to the troubles of others knowing what it is like to have nobody at home to listen to my struggles. That was an act of faithful waiting!

Even now, I wait. The poem I wrote is as much a prayer for God to act as it is a piece of poetry inspired by this passage. I hope it is helpful and brings to mind the reality that brokenness does not mean that healing is beyond you.

"Homeless and poisoned in my inmost soul"
I ponder the broken and sleepless nights.
Endless tears fell into fathomless hole
as I thought of all of my stolen rights.

Future empty and present in shambles,
hopeful words called out from the ancient past
before wounds left me with frothing rambles:
that place where only ashes seem to last.

I remember the hope flickering faint.
I beheld the light that would not go out.
Even shattered, the call to be a saint,
not of perfect life, but one lived through doubt.

I remember and still I sit and wait
for the Just One to come bearing our fate.

October has been Domestic Violence Awareness month since it was first introduced by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence in 1981. Regardless of the month, domestic violence is never okay, no matter the circumstances. If you or someone you know is in desperate need of help, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 or TTY 1−800−787−3224.

Creation Narratives and Domestic Violence

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Okay, so this one is going to require a stretch of one’s imagination. This morning I was working through Genesis 1:1-2:3 out of the Common English Bible as a part of today’s reading with our church’s DISCIPLE Bible Study group. In my reading of this passage from the Common English Bible today I found the text to be replete with words of plenty. We noted in our study this week that the mindset of the reader, the context where the text is read, and other variables affect the way we approach scripture. Today I must be feeling very open hearted and expansive as the words that I read were filled with expansive imagery.

As an example I would point out how in Genesis 1:14-15 God speaks expansively of the lights in the dome of the sky. These lights are signals and signposts of the passage of time, the coming of seasons, and invite creation into sacred times. Keeping in mind that I take these portions of the scriptures as sharing truth born of wisdom rather than concrete facts born of the scientific method, I was the heavens brimming with lights pouring forth after the divine word. Letters from divine words arcing out from the divine mouth before shifting into stars, moons, and the special star known as our sun. In such ways, God speaks and the world and universe are transformed from chaos into creation.

When God speaks of humanity, even the Common English Bible uses words of mastery, but I did not read words of domination into the creation account today. Humanity masters the world not for domineering or destructive purposes but for the cause of caretaking. Humanity takes charge of the fish, the birds, the animals, the plants, and all of the wandering and stationary lifeforms that cover the globe for the purpose of creative caretaking. God spoke into the world words of life and humanity is invested with the divine image in order to continue to work in the divine image as caretakers and agents of blessing to help keep the world from slipping back into chaos.

The story is quite beautiful when read with an expansive and generous mindset. What does any of this have to do with Domestic Violence or Domestic Violence Awareness? In the end, the connection I made in my mind is a very delicate one.

If we are called to treat creation with such care and respect, how can we live lives where we exert our will violently on each other? If we are called to be caretakers and agents of blessing, how can we decide to turn our backs on this divine call to love in order to strike out at the people in our homes? If the very core of our creation narrative revolves around humanity existing for the purpose of blessing, how can we curse the people we live with day by day in such abominable ways?

To be certain, if I were to read this text as a text inviting domination, a case could be made, but the whole of scripture is wildly biased against such views. While there are certainly stories of domination in our scripture, the whole of the Bible is thrown from such ways of thought by the person of Jesus.

In John 8, Jesus was offered an opportunity to dominate another person and to stone to death a woman who committed adultery (in the context of a society where that was legal, which was a different context than our society where such punitive behavior is illegal, immoral, and labeled as absolutely wrong by both church and state). Even though it was permissible, legal, and in accordance with the religious rules of Jesus’ day, Jesus refused to engage in such brutal acts. This is just one example of many where Christ taught love in situations that invited brutality.

I cannot see Jesus approving of domestic violence taking place in our homes. Even if we could read words of domination into scriptures  like those found in Genesis 1:28, I cannot see Jesus approving of such behavior. Passages like those in Genesis can be read with different eyes than those of a person seeking to dominate or subjugate others. If we can read such words with grace and plenty in our minds, then we can consider the idea that we were never meant to dominate, demean, or subjugate the people who share our slice of the garden in this life.

October has been Domestic Violence Awareness month since it was first introduced by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence in 1981. Regardless of the month, domestic violence is never okay, no matter the circumstances. If you or someone you know is in desperate need of help, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 or TTY 1−800−787−3224.

Sermon: “A Letter to God”

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Sermon: “A Letter to God”
Preached; October 10, 2022
Scriptures: Luke 17:11-19; Psalm 111
Preacher: Rev. Robert Dean

Holy Christ, I wanted to write you an open letter this morning for a few reasons, all of which you already know. The fact that you know the contents of this letter is one of the fun parts about writing a letter to you, but I am fairly certain you do not mind my sharing this letter with your congregation.

One reason I chose to write you a letter this morning is the very real tiredness which comes from attending Annual Conference for several days in a row. Preaching a sermon while looking people in the eye and focusing on body language is a bit much after several days of long meetings. Such a presentation might be beyond me this morning, but presenting a letter is within my capacity. 

Another reason is the very real challenge that comes with the subject matter. You know the subject we are speaking around is very near and dear to my heart as a person. I wanted to choose my words carefully around this touchy subject, so I chose each word in advance this week. 

So, dear Lord, let me get to the heart of why I wanted to write to you today. The scripture reading that we just read included a psalm from the Hebrew Scriptures around the work of God and a story from Christ’s life. The psalm shared how your goodness and majesty are embodied within the earth. You are described in words with words like majestic, glorious, righteous, and honest. In covenant, you are revealed as faithful, trustworthy, merciful, and compassionate.

Now, you know what I do for a living. As an Elder in the United Methodist Church I am called to a ministry where I share the Word, offer the Sacraments, invite others alongside the community into a life of Christian Service, and Order the church life through acts of administration with ordained authority. While I live out my ordained role within the community I perform wedding rites, counsel and encourage individuals and couples in relationships, and help to advocate and work towards ensuring that the churches I serve are safe places for children and vulnerable adults. I am in ministry with elder saints, married adults, single adults, adults in relationships, with teenagers, and with children. To put it in Methodist terms, since “the world is my parish,” I am called to minister to all parts of the community and not simply the people who walk through the doors of my church or who officially enter church membership..

I enjoy what I do for a living. I derive comfort from helping others. I enjoy sharing in deep conversations about you (God) and about what life can be like while living with you. If it were not for paperwork, there are very few days where going to work feels like drudgery, but that does not mean that it is always easy or painless.

In those moments of both joy and pain, I rely on you both as the One who walks with us and sets an example for us. You, Lord, are all the things described in our psalm. When I marry people, I share with them about the way that Christ models a healthy way to live in love with a spouse. When I confirm students into church membership, I ask those students point blank about their relationship with you, their divine parent and Savior. All of these conversations use relationships as a simile for our relationship with you. God, you are like our Parent. God, you are like our spouse.

So, what am I supposed to do when I come across places where spouses hit spouses? Didn’t I just say that a loving relationship with a partner is like a loving relationship with you? Do such analogies work after a spouse bruises a spouse? Do they do more harm than good after such moments? In a similar vein, what do I say when a teenager tells me that their parent or parents tear them down? What do I say when a child tells me that their parent does not love them? What do I say when a child mentions one parent hitting another?

The other day you know that I had Chinese for lunch on the first day of the Annual Conference. You know what that fortune cookie told me. The cookie stated in bold fashion that “Fate loves the fearless.” You know that I read that fortune and thought of this moment in this letter to you. You know the questions I wanted to ask after reading that short little proverb. 

It is nice to think that people who are unafraid have a place to live in this world. What of the others? Who favors the fearful? Who favors the frightened? Who favors those who have felt pigeonholed into places of darkness and doom? 

We know as a people that domestic violence is not okay. The Book of Resolutions of the United Methodist Church affirms that belief when it shares on behalf of the church the words: “We recognize that family violence and abuse in all its forms—verbal, psychological, physical, sexual—is detrimental to the covenant of the human community.” 

We understand that domestic violence is not acceptable and harms the covenants within our community. We understand that God cares for us deeply and does not want us to suffer in such ways, but these actions happen in spite of our best intentions and desires.

So what do we do, Lord? Where do I point as a proclaimer of the Word? If people see you as their divine parent and their example of a parent is violent, then how do I share that there’s a difference between what the worst of humanity shows us and the way you want to care for us? Where can I point? Where can I tell a hurt person to look?

Of course, you know the answer to that question. I already know the answer to that question. A lot of people who have spent time in church know where I should invite people to look. Where do I point people who have such questions, concerns, and fears? 

I point them to Jesus. When they need to see a person whose life is marked by compassionate love rather than impassioned hatred, I point them to Jesus. When they need to see a person who does more than say pretty words, I point them to Jesus. Jesus not only spoke about love and nonviolence, but went so far as to heal the ear of a soldier who was hurt by Jesus’ disciple when that soldier came to arrest Jesus on the night before his crucifixion. 

Look at our story! Jesus is confronted on the road by ten people with skin diseases which were identified by translators for many years as leprosy. There are ten lepers on the road who need help. They are unclean and by both religious law and cultural tradition they had to keep their distance from Jesus and his disciples. From a distance they cry out for help. 

Does Jesus berate them? Does Jesus throw things at them? Does Jesus mock them? Does Jesus ignore them? Does Jesus tell them to go somewhere else? Jesus does none of these things.Jesus heals them. All ten of them. Nine of them are healed, but apparently have their own plans about what to do next. The nine walk away, but one returns.

Was this person a rich person? We don’t see that in the text. Was this cleansed person a person of importance? We don’t see that in the text. What we do see is that this person was that there was more going on with this person than just a skin disease. This person was a foreigner from outside the Jewish people. Beyond unclean, this person’s entire being was outside of the people God called and sanctified in the desert. 

So, Jesus was nice to this leper when there was just a disease and the leper was one of many. Perhaps now Jesus will reject this person as a distraction, a nuisance, or an outsider? Perhaps now Jesus will strike the foreigner, mock the foreigner, or just ignore the fact that they have returned. 

Jesus doesn’t do any of those terrible things. Jesus does not strike out at this person physically, verbally, or even culturally. Jesus invites this person to go forth as a person who has been healed. Even though the praise of God comes from someone other than a child of Abraham, Jesus welcomes the praise, accepts the thanks, and sends this person out with a blessing. There isn’t even a touch of cruelty shown to this person. All that remains is love and kindness for a person who needed help.

This is the kind of example that I point to when I tell people to love their partner like Jesus. This is the kind of behavior a loving parent should show their child, should model in their home, and should ideally invite their child to share with someone else one day. Do I expect that anyone can live this kind of a loving life 24/7 without divine help? No, but this is the ideal. 

The love shown by Christ when shared between two people is holy and good. It does not harm or hate. It does not mock or denigrate. It does not tear down or destroy. It is good, holy, and kind. This is the love I want people to share with God. This is the kind of love that I pray will fill the lives of the people who stand before me when I perform a marriage. This is the kind of love I pray will anoint every child and every adult that I baptize. This is love incarnate.

Of course, I know that trust is hard, especially after the wounding that can take place when people face domestic violence. Here’s what I propose. God, if we do our best to trust that you are kind, loving, and graceful, will you help us to believe? Will you meet us in the moment we are tempted to see you in the same light as the broken parts of humanity we may have seen? Will you help us to believe in you when the worst criticisms of all come from within?

Truthfully, although this letter addresses domestic violence as a major issue, I hope that you will meet people who struggle to believe in a loving God in other situations. Some people live life with happy parents, loving children, and without a cloud in the sky of their home life while still struggling to believe. Will you meet them too? Right here and right now, will you meet them if you ask for help? 

I trust you will meet everyone who turns to you in these moments. I trust you will help people to come to know love deeply, to understand hope intimately, and to cultivate faith in the internal garden they share with you. 

Likewise, I trust that the people who hear me read this letter to you or who read it later on their own will understand the message that should not need to be said. The Book of Resolutions teaches after the passage we read before that: 

“We encourage the Church to provide a safe environment, counsel, and support for the victim and to work with the abuser to understand the root causes and forms of abuse and to overcome such behaviors. Regardless of the cause or the abuse, both the victim and the abuser need the love of the Church. While we deplore the actions of the abuser, we affirm that person to be in need of God’s redeeming love.”

 ¶161.ii.h. “The Nurturing Community, Family violence and abuse” in the Book Of Resolutions of the United Methodist Church, 2016

If someone who reads these words needs help, we are called to be a place where help can be found, whether they are the victims or perpetrators of domestic violence. All people are called to the redeeming and redemptive God of love and we will do our best to walk with each person who comes in need of help. Taking it a step further theologically and philosophically, as a church we will work with you through the Spirit so that we can do better than our best in such moments.

In the end God, for me the journey towards healing begins in trusting in You. Whether we are recovering from abuse, facing abuse, living out destructive patterns of abuse, or walking with others who face such terrors, we are called to trust in Christ. Like the foreigner long ago, we can choose to walk away even after Christ works in our lives. We can also choose to come back in faith.

It is only in returning to Christ that the cleansed person found welcome. It is only by stepping towards God in faith that the foreigner was sent forth with a blessing. In stepping towards Christ an example was set where blessing came from drawing near even after all was made right in that person’s life. 

I would end this letter with a straightforward prayer: Holy God, help us to draw near to you. As someone who has faced such circumstances, help me to offer words of hope to others as a minister, an advocate, and as a Christian. Help each Christian to stand for a world where abuse fades in the light of love. Teach us to advocate for redemption in the lives of the least of these as well as healing in the lives of those they have abused. Help us to treat them like we would treat Jesus. Let that light of love shine in dark corners and help to bring hope into the darkest of places. We ask for your help in Jesus’ name. Amen.

October has been Domestic Violence Awareness month since it was first introduced by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence in 1981. Regardless of the month, domestic violence is never okay, no matter the circumstances. If you or someone you know is in desperate need of help, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 or TTY 1−800−787−3224.