3rd Week Of Advent

The Voice Invites Us
Luke 3:7-18

In a 1959 speech given in Indianapolis, President Kennedy said, “When written in Chinese, the word ‘crisis’ is composed of two characters – one represents danger, and the other represents opportunity.” The tone of John the Baptizer’s words tonight/this morning is one of immediacy. The people of Israel are in crisis even if they aren’t fully aware of it. John’s words have all the signs of danger where judgment is possible. And yet, his words also take on this sense that opportunity has arrived and people are invited to respond to it. Within the urgency and integrity of John’s message was judgment, but in the judgment was opportunity, and opportunity was proclaimed to the people in the word “repent.”

Our gospel text says that John “went into all the country around the Jordan and, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Immediately for some, this was incredibly good news. In repenting, people no longer had to be defined by their past. People no longer had to be captive to their failures, their choices, or their inadequacies. The people could repent. They could move on. They could be given a new slate. They could start over.

“Wouldn’t you be untrusting of a world where repentance wasn’t possible? What if there was no chance to repent and start over? Some might even define hell as being that place. Hell is a place where there is no possibility of repentance. There’s no way out, no chance to get rid of the past, no chance to start again. Hell defines you by your past.” Repent is a word that is loaded with so much potential. “It pays us human beings a sublime compliment, because it says that you and I can do something about the course of life we are on. Animals don’t get that luxury…they live by the instincts demanded of them.” Human beings, you and I, have the ability to make course corrections. If we are on the wrong train of living, we can get off and get on another one that moves in the direction of our integrity and character. If we are headed down a path of self-destruction, we can make a 180 and choose a path that leads to life.

This doesn’t always mean that our past is wiped clean from us even if we do repent. Sometimes our past is needed to remind us where we’ve been. But that past does not have to determine where we are going. “Yes, we may not be able to change what we’ve already done, and we may not be able to fully escape the consequences of those past choices.” But we do not need to be on any sort of destructive path. The path that we are on determines the direction we are going, and when we repent, we change directions because we’ve changed our intention to go somewhere else. We can repent, make a 180, and start the journey over. John’s words call people into this gift of repentance, this very gift of God for those who really want it, for those who really see the potential to a new beginning, for those who see nothing but hope in front of them. “His words might have been sharp and penetrating but he led the people to a door, to an opportunity, to a way out from their sinful lives and accept the gift of God to start over.”

With his words, John attracted all kinds of people. There were those who were honestly seeking this gift of repentance; this opportunity for a new life. And then there were those who were seeking an easy way out. John warns them of superficial repentance saying, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘we have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.”

For John, the message is clear. Each generation has to decide for themselves if they are going to be the people of God or not. No generation can assume to ride the coattails of their ethnic heritage in order to receive salvation. God will not be dependent on the physical descent of Israelites in order to accomplish His redemptive work. If that was God’s choice, God could certainly act with sovereign freedom to produce other children to Abraham out of the very lifeless stones in the desert. And because there wasn’t a shortage of stones, God was unlimited to make the numbers He needed to accomplish His redemptive work with or without the people of Israel.

As if it couldn’t be any more disappointing for people seeking an easy superficial way out, John adds that those who believe their actions as individuals bear no consequence on them as an entire people, the ax is already at the foot of the tree. If the people of Israel fail by their actions to produce good fruits of repentance, the ax of God could easily swing, uprooting the entire nation, falling by the judgment of God. If these people are not interested in being the people of God, how is God able to bring redemption to them unless they repent for all the right reasons? How will the people respond?

For any generation who seeks to be the people of God, redemption takes place only when the people own up to their own failures, their own greed, or their own indifference to others. When people have repented of their choices, there is room enough for redemption to enter in. This is the voice of John, preparing a way for the Lord, making straight paths for him, telling people the time has come to repent of the past, to make different choices today, to live a new life, because the Lord is coming and bringing salvation with him.

In being a redeemed people, it is right John says, to practice ethical reform, to show that those fruits of repentance really matter. It is right to show the evidence of a changed repentant heart. It is right to give out of one’s abundance. As Jesus will remind the people, “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be expected.” It is also right to refrain from exploiting people for personal gain either by overtaxing them or extorting money from them. To carelessly do either one was not living a repentant life.

This was John’s advice. “As incisive as his words were, this advice was practical as he spoke in terms the people could put into practice that very day.” People could decide for themselves that day to make a 180, turn around, and live as changed people, people willing to be the people of God. Or they could stay on the same course of life their on and assume they know better than John, trusting in their own understanding of salvation first.

John’s question set before the people is the same as our question today, will this generation be the people of God? Will this generation seek to go it alone when there is so much that is promised before us? Don’t the people know, that God is coming to be with His people? The prophet Zephaniah is quick to say, “The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in His love; he will exult over you with loud singing as on a day of festival.” For Zephaniah, the future is the same one John calls the people to prepare for: a future where the people of God will be eyewitnesses to God’s salvation.

These people will be redeemed. And when John asks the tough question, “will you people live that redemption,” people are left to decide for themselves if they will receive the one who is more powerful than John, “the one who will baptize all people with the Holy Spirit and fire?” Will they seize the opportunity to be the people of God, witnessing to God’s salvation among them?

Receiving John’s words is an opportunity to change ones outlook. It is to understand that God will restore His people, and the one who comes after John will be the very means for that restoration. As Professor Mark Kolden from Luther seminary says, “Jesus is both the one in whom God saves us and the model of the godly life for us; such salvation will thoroughly change us and it will be good for us and for others. Our lives are to be realigned toward God’s future salvation, right down to our daily work, our possessions, and our behavior. The Holy Spirit and the fire that come with Christ’s baptism are God’s way of changing us. If we hear this only in religious terms, we miss the biblical force of these words: “Spirit” is the same word as “wind,” and in this context perhaps it is more like God’s whirlwind, God’s tornado, which, along with the fire, turns everything upside down and gets rid of all the unessentials. The judgment must come; that is only good news in the sense that after the judgment comes the kingdom. After the threshing and burning of the chaff the wheat is gathered. After repentance comes forgiveness. After crucifixion comes resurrection. There is no other way, this gospel is telling us, than God’s way. And this is good news, for it is into this way that we and all flesh are invited.”

What an amazing opportunity you and I are invited into. “As we listen to the words of the Baptizer standing knee-deep in the cold waters of the Jordan,” there is no better time than now to prepare for the celebration of Jesus coming, to repent of our past and look forward to our future, to celebrate the arrival of God with arms raised high in expectation that the Lord is coming with mercy and grace enough for all of us. This is the time to be the people of God, to seize the opportunity witnessing to God’s salvation among us.

This is the time to be the people of God. This is the time to meet the advent of our Lord’s coming, where we the people of God stand in the waters of baptism rejoicing together and as one people, we say the words of Isaiah together, “Surely God is our salvation; we will trust, and will not be afraid, for the Lord God is our strength and our might; He has become our salvation.”

My friends, peace always be with you. Amen.


"Since using Blogger/Facebook is impossible to footnote and give credit due, I want make sure that those sermons and people are recognized for giving me inspiration for my own sermon. Even though my original sermon typed out has all the proper footnotes, unfortunately, here it just looks like random quotes. Please feel free to check these sermons/articles as they are well crafted and well worth the read." JMH

"The Divine Opportunity." J. Ellsworth Kallas
"The Birth of Jesus Never Saved Anyone: The Lucan Advent Texts." Professor Mark Kolden
"What Then Shall We Do?" Rev. Dr. William Willimon

Sometimes, We Can See The Stars (Luke 21:25-36)

Right now, I want to run to the manger. I want to kneel at it and see the face of the newborn baby Jesus. I want to feel the warmth of the moment, and be comforted once again this year that my savior has finally been born. While the mall and the big box stores keep reminding me that the commercialism of Christmas has arrived in their slick advertisements and greased up sales pitches meant to relieve my purchasing anxiety, it just makes me want to run that much faster to the manger to see that Jesus has finally come. But I would be disappointed to see how dark it is at that manger.

No one’s there yet. No one’s arrived. There’s no glow or warmth there yet. From here to there, I can’t see the manger. A billion miles of darkness separates me from it, and I want to be led, I want to be shown the way, and I want to be brought into the baby’s presence. But if all I see is darkness, how will I know where to go? How will I know how to get there? This is the first Sunday in Advent. It is a time from here to the manger where you and I are to prepare, reflect, and wait. It’s an important time for each one of us. It’s a time to stand in the darkness and look for light.

At best it’s difficult to see the light when your head is hung in exhaustion and you are desperate to be redeemed. Yet in the gospel reading, Jesus is speaking to people who know full well, in their history as a people, about redemption. These are Exodus people. These are Passover people. These people have a history of being squeezed out of Egypt, Babylon and Rome. To these people, redemption is the aching of their hearts. It’s their dream. It’s their collective cry with their hands stretched out saying, “O God, rescue me. Deliver me. Bend Your ear toward me, O God, and in your righteousness save me.”

Jesus is speaking to people who want to be set free. With his return to earth, merging heaven to it, Christ comes to finalize the kingdom where the righteousness of God will at last fill the earth. In that coming of God’s redemption, when the merging of heaven and earth take place Jesus says to his followers, “stand up, and raise your heads, because your redemption is coming.” When life is coming apart at the seams, your redemption is coming. When life is toppling over and falling down fast, your redemption is coming. When life appears to be without a future, your redemption is coming. The coming of God’s redemption is good news for people whose life is nothing but bad news. Right now, this is good news for we who are standing in the darkness looking for light.

It’s as if Jesus is saying to each one of us today, when things in your world are at their worst and they couldn’t seem like they could get any blacker or heavier, guess who’s coming to be with you? Guess who shows up? God arrives.I love the image in the parable that Jesus tells the disciples, “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves, you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near.”

Now, this image might be difficult to envision right now since we are at the beginning of winter and all the leaves have fallen to the ground, but next spring, trees all around us will begin to sprout new leaves, flowers will begin to break out from the ground, grass will begin to grow in all of its color and thickness. The fragrant smells of the trees, flowers, and grass all come alive. It is symbolic of spring that as the change of season comes, so too does new life. New life arrives in all of its color, beauty, and change. When Christ comes to merge heaven and earth, when he comes again, new life will begin in all of its color, beauty, and change. New life will arrive. Redemption is coming. This is the promise of God. The message of Advent is one of promise. God promises that in Jesus Christ, there is a future. There is a future where redemptive new life takes place. God will do this through Christ. For all who trust the promises of God, this news is reason enough to wait.

There’s an ancient Persian saying that reads, “When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.” There’s something transcendent and mystical about going outside this time of year at night, and looking up at the heavens, when we see the stars in their brightest and most magnificent light. Yet in order to see the stars most clearly, it has to be the darkest.

I remember driving on a crisp, winter night at the end of December to go see Karen for Christmas. So there I was driving west on this lonely rural highway 17 between Edmore and Adams literally in the middle of nowhere, and I just happened to look to my left. And what I saw made me hit the brakes, pull my car over, and get out to see. There in front of me, across the entire black winter sky were the brightest northern lights I had ever seen in my life. The purples, and blues, and greens were all jumping, and dancing. I stood there silently and took it all in. I must have been there for 20 minutes just staring at this amazing masterpiece of God. To this day, I’ve never seen the northern lights as bright and intense as they were that night.

Jesus reminds us that when our world is at its most blackest, when life is as dark as its going to get, “stand up, and raise your heads, because your redemption is coming.” As we wait, prepare, and reflect on the Advent of God’s coming, we have a lot of darkness to navigate before we reach the manger. It can seem tiring, stressful, or restless. And yet, I am reminded that even in the darkness of my life and yours, there’s only one light that leads us to the manger and it’s the star that hangs above it. It’s a star that leads us through the darkness of our waiting. It leads us through the blackest of days and nights that we face. It leads us by its brightest and most intense light. This light overcomes the darkness of the world, inviting it to raise its hopes, to raise its expectations, to raise its awareness, and to raise its vigilance.

This light leads us through this Advent darkness to see the one who carries out the promises of God on behalf of a world that cries out for liberation. In this Advent darkness, we cannot deny that nations remain torn and fragmented by bombs, tanks, and check mate politics. We cannot deny the devastation of disease, AIDS, and malnutrition on the babies of this world. We cannot deny the selfish disregard for future generations in hijacking natural resources for our own mass consumption here and now. We cannot deny the proliferation of global problems that remain unsolved by humanity’s faults. For the world and its problems, it cannot get any darker. But we also cannot deny that God is faithful to Jesus Christ, that Jesus Christ has a future and that our redemption is entwined with his future; a future that leads us through this darkness by a star.

This light guides the world through its darkness to see whose plans he holds. And once we get to the manger, we’ll know everything will be alright. As sure as the promises of God remain, redemption is coming.

My friends, peace always be with you. Amen.

What Does The Future Look Like? (Mark 13:1-8)

So, I gotta be honest, this is one of those gospel texts that makes me cringe simply because at first, it’s difficult to process anything positive out of Jesus words. False messiahs, wars, famine, earthquakes – these are not comforting images we like to live with. But the question Jesus leaves us hanging on as we flesh this out, is “what does the future look like?”

If the future were left for humanity to decide, Jesus predicts humanity fails. It fails as it fights against itself, as it deceives itself, as it claims to be the Messiah, as it starves itself, as its powers will prove to be disappointing. It fails because it wants to play God. I am reminded of the first commandment in which God said to His people, “I am the Lord Your God…you shall have no other gods.”

If humanity plays God and acts as if it determines the future as God would, it fails to put God first and and trust the future to God. Yet this is what the Temple represents. It represents greed and exploitation and as Jesus predicts, God wants nothing to do with it, because God is not put first in the hearts of those who represent Him, even though this impressive structure was intentionally built to be the dwelling place for God on earth among His people. It may have been big and impressive to look at on the outside, but it was ugly, small, and corrosive on the inside.

Is it any wonder that the temple does not stand today? Perhaps it doesn’t stand because it’s death opens up the way for another temple to be resurrected. Jesus himself is that very temple, that indwelling of God where God comes to earth to be with His people as a flesh and blood reminder of His very presence. This is the temple we bring our worship to. This is the very temple we find comfort, rest, love, hope, joy, and relief in. This is the very temple we find life in here and now. We experience the salvation in Christ that is available to us here and now. Christ is our life. Through the cross and resurrection, we are reconciled to God here and now. This is our temple here and now.

But what about the future? What does the future look like? There’s a concept in philosophy and theology known as eschatology. Eschatology is concerned with what are believed to be the final events in the ultimate destiny of humanity or the end of the world as we know it. So many movies and books are written from this lens. In fact, this past Friday, Columbia Pictures released the movie “2012,” depicting the end of civilization through global flooding, earthquakes, and volcanoes. And of course, the question the movie asks is, “what does the future look like? As people of faith, we live in this tension between now and the future. We live in this experience of salvation here and now, yet the fullness of salvation is incomplete. The world is not yet fully redeemed. Sin, evil, suffering, corrupt systems, oppressive powers are still in existence all around us. Yet this tension you and I live in is there for a reason.

Some people are very uncomfortable with this tension, and they want the future now. There are those people for whom the end of the world seems far too attractive and they buy into chronological ordering of events not only in the world, but of the world they make for themselves. They desperately believe that they have the future so cornered, that they relieve their responsibilities from the rest of the world, and concentrate on their own individual survival sometimes with tragic outcomes.

Groups like the Branch Davidians, the Heavens Gate Cult, or the People’s Temple, all ended in tragedy because the future was far more believable, more promising, more relevant than what the here and now could ever offer. What was it that Jesus said? "Beware of those who come in my name and say I am he. They will lead you astray." These charismatic leaders all refused to believe that any good could ever come by fully living with hope here and now. They all wanted to play God and determine the future for themselves.

So what does the future look like? The future is decisively in the hands of God, and as people of faith, we participate in relieving the tension between life and death in the world always remembering what Jesus tells us, “Don’t be scared.” What we know about the past, present, and even the future is that God has come to dwell with us in His very Son, to take up residence among His very people here on earth. We are given the Holy Spirit to continue to extend the body of Christ into the world so that it be connected, so that love overcomes oppression, and hope overcomes despair.

It would be very easy to live in fear of the future, to be paralyzed by it, to protect ourselves from it simply because we see the present and we don’t like where it’s headed. We would essentially live in despair. Why bother to live if what we see around us is not comforting or painless? Yet to live this way is to avoid the needs of others and that’s not why Jesus lives among us. He lives among us, as His body is extended into the world, to bring sustainable hope into the world.

It is reminiscent of the ancient Greek myth of Pandora. She was tempted to open the jar she was told not to open. In doing so, she released all evil, sadness, and pain into the world, but she managed to close it right before hopelessness was released. And that is one thing, the Greeks believed that all humans could be sustained with. Humans were left with nothing but hope.

As I mentioned in this past month’s church newsletter, I recently went to an all day seminar at St. Mary’s Hospital, and it was called, “cultivating hope during difficult times.” That day was an amazing opportunity for me to listen to people who have overcome the most paralyzing odds against them through the sustaining power of hope. Over and over again, I kept hearing the same thing: hope is a decision, hope is a choice. The statement that really tugged at my heart was “hope is an act of defiance when the odds are against you.” When we defy something, we no longer believe it has power over us. We take a defiant stand against it. We believe that our stand against the odds is a manifestation of the hope inside of us, rather than to allow the power of the odds define us from the outside. If we set this understanding of hope against the backdrop of the gospel text for tonight/this morning, we are offered a much different picture than one grounded in fear and despair.

Our hope is sustained by the breaking of Jesus Christ into our world, where God holds its very future in His hands. In the present and in the future, we have nothing to fear, because hope is where our faith exists now. Our existing faith is sustained by the one who saves the world from itself, even when the world fails to acknowledge just how broken it continues to become. This is why the global temples of greed, oppression, war, self-interest, cannot stand tall. The body of Christ sustained by faith together, his church, is a force of change, dismantling those temples and leaving the rubble where it falls as a reminder that these global temples of self-importance are temporal and powerless while the true temple of our worship is eternal and empowering.

Without this hope we have together, that not only sustains us but sends us out into the global temples to speak and act on behalf of those the temples oppress, we might as well pack our bags, build the necessary walls of separation, and hunker down, and wait for the end of the world to come. Because it is so much easier to turn a blind eye out of hopelessness than look directly into the evils of the world and know their place among us is intolerable and unacceptable. This is why the temple of hope, Jesus Christ is among us. It is he who gives life and shines light into the very dark spaces of neglect.

Yes, the future is decisively in the hands of God, but we do not neglect the present, riding it out and sidestepping the opportunities to share Christ with the world he’s come into, even when we share Christ among the temples of the world whose time to come down will eventually come. There can be only one God worshipped, and that’s the God of life. And we bring our worship to His very Son; our sanctuary, our savior, our Temple. All other temples have no future.

We know the future does not belong to us, and so we worship the only God who holds it, who comes among us to deliver hope in the face of fear and uncertainty. He is the savior of the world, who reassures that this world is in good hands.

So, what does the future look like? It looks like a kingdom where God reigns and the fullness of salvation is complete. The future finally arrives.

My friends, peace always be with you. Amen.

Hope Is An Act Of Defiance

Recently, I attended a pastoral care conference at St. Mary’s Hospital. It was well worth my time as I spent the day learning about the very real potential and possibilities “hope” offers to us, especially when life is difficult, painful, or challenged. I heard some amazing stories of how life was challenged by disease, a complicated pregnancy, and the untimely death of newborns and how the very people who shared these stories, were able to navigate through those moments holding out hope. Yet, as I heard and maybe as you have experienced, hope does not always come when we most need it. It does not always come so easily for some as it might for others. Hope at times, seems like the last offering of comfort ever possible when someone is entrenched in the despair of the situation. But, as I have experienced, and what I heard again and again from people who have lived through these traumatic experiences, is that hope is a choice. It is not something that is out of reach, or something to be earned, or removed from the human will at all. To live with hope, is to make the choice, choosing to believe that life will improve whether the evidence proves it will or not.

Dr. Jerome Groopman wrote a book titled, The Anatomy of Hope: How People Prevail In The Face of Illness. A fascinating book, Groopman attempts to provide insight into the power, or perceived power, of making choices for oneself, even choosing to avoid medical treatment within the context of potential despair and grim medical consequences. Rather, he attempts to articulate what it means for people to celebrate the healing power of hope despite the overwhelming odds against them to do so. He says, “To hope under the most extreme circumstances is an act of defiance that permits a person to live his/her life on his/her terms.” An act of defiance! It’s been my experience that people feel powerless when their lives are traumatized medically or psychologically. People feel as if all strength within them escapes, they become overwhelmed unable to pan the lens back and see the wide angle of their circumstance. They feel disempowered to make constructive and motivational decisions because all they see is the problem, the issue, the event. While counseling people, I see this played out over and over again as if there is a paralyzing default that exists. Not everyone is like this. There are those who are reactionary and become pro-active, thinking through the situation for options and possibilities. Conversely, there are those for whom they live in the trauma; the blinders prevent them from seeing any way out of their emotional and spiritual despair. The default exists from person to person, circumstance to circumstance. And yet, what I find most disarming with each person is the ability to articulate hope, sometimes for them, sometimes with them.

But this articulated hope is not just any random bit and piece of pop-psychology. No, this hope is something else. This hope is grounded in the incarnated God, who is not removed from pain, or trauma. The walking God is grounded with us, feeling what we feel. His body shares the burdens of life together for each other’s sake of life, because as Christ taught each of us, each person’s life matters and matters to God. What this says about God, is that God is not beyond our reach, or seated somewhere else to watch us as a passive observer. Let’s not forget: God knows a thing or two about experiencing the trauma of losing His son. He knows what it feels like when life becomes darkened by the unexpected. He knows what life feels like when there is no other choice but to believe hope is possible out of death, out of disease, out of abuse, out of addiction, or out of shame. And as God, you cannot know these things unless you are with your people on the ground where life is lived out.

This is the hope that grounds me, and this is the hope that I hold out for people who feel life is hopeless, when life nosedives, when life is challenged by the unexpected. This is the incarnate hope which gives us life, when we feel as if we are left for dead. This incarnate hope of Jesus Christ, the walking God among us, is defiant in a world where the easy thing to do is just give up and be swallowed up by suffering. Yet Jesus comes alongside of us in whatever state of mind we are in, sits with us, listens to us, and reminds that life is full of hope when God is present. Hope is a choice to believe that the presence of God is an act of defiance to be present in the darkest of hells we visit. Hope is knowing that Jesus lives outside the tomb from where death is defeated, so that we too can be resurrected from our own tombs. Tombs do not define us. Outside our tombs, hope is where we live, full of choices and possibilities so that life is defined by what we make of it. It is worth it as it is beautiful. It is beautiful as it is a gift. May you choose to be defiant against the odds. Peace be with you.

The Latest Poem From "Violations Of Black"

Lately, I have been asking myself, "how do I leave those dark spaces people invite me into?" When people pour their souls out in a moment that has every indication it's desperate, it's painful, and it's paralyzing, how do I as the listener offer myself to listen, and yet be strong enough to be a source of dependability all while being able to separate myself from it all? I was recently counseling someone who shared with me some horrific details of what's going on with their life, and those details played on my emotions for weeks. Obviously my life is not theirs, but it was if I was living in those details because I was trusted to be there. What helps me realize that I don't have to keep pushing the play button is to simply pan back the lens, and see it for what it all really looks like. When someone is paralyzed by a trauma of the soul, I can be there, but I don't need to stay there. I can pan the lens back and see that the real possibilities to heal are grounded in hope itself. And I find this helpful for my own sense of frustration, but moreso with people who see no possible future. This poem from "Violations Of Black" definitely approaches a trauma from someone desperate enough to seek out a listener yet, the listener wants to empower the seeker to see beyond that tunnel vision and focus on what is possible.

secondary trauma

10.26.09

living with the violations and dark places of others,

the mind takes on a variable shift of emotional release.

it goes from hurt, elation, regret, to recompense.

the swirling of thought, words, and momentum take their place.

it’s as if it all comes in way too fast to safely land in the head.

it slows the pace of control into a display of disconnect replayed.

yet, the words keep coming….they don’t stop for lack of indifference.

they play out like an all too familiar horror story between

the innocent and the monstrous antagonist who wants nothing

more than to hijack trust for their own demented satisfaction.

it leaves the listener in a position of vulnerability to which

there is no viable strength on which to lean or embrace.

yet, that’s not possible nor are the defenses defiant.

others have no possible inclination of the images,

or the motivations, or the insidious reasoning people carry with them.

carrying the day to day tension between life and death,

between peace and hell, between love and hate—

it all recalibrates the inner-compass slightly so that it points inward.

the surface is broken with the things disliked to begin with,

and it all struggles to tame the depressive spiraling, day from day.

it breaks the surface to reveal the unlikable, the unspeakable,

and the irreversible scarring of fragility uncared for.

when is it permissible to allow the words to stop being heard?

when is it permissible to stop envisioning the images that are shared?

yes, to live there is to believe the secondary trauma is owned—

perhaps by the listener more so than the owner.

God forbid, the danger lies not so much in listening to it all,

but believing it’s all up for grabs, to be sold to the less fortunate,

or to be sold off to the less faithful who disavow the power of forgiveness.

the listener is left to hold onto the pieces, the fractures of another person

who trusts just enough to invite and share the macabre and grotesque.

it’s as if the momentary is invited to be become a permanent fixture,

rearing the ugliness inherent in its structure from beginning to end.

but by some chance or fate, the silence topples the conversation

and it exists as nothing more than a pile of ruins with shards of emotion

or broken concentration fallen from the many lips too tired to speak or cry.

desperation lingers strong in the thick of temporary amounts of time…

answers simply do not appear by way of bearing the soul’s pain.

but the balms of empathy and compassion appear from nowhere

and with their purpose, they drench the weary to feel again.

isn’t that the time honored necessities for hope to take shape once again?

from such darkness, hope is the only light that points a way out…

it is the only choice that makes sense in a senseless battle for the wits end.

hope for all its purpose and intent, is defiant in the face of possible surrender.

it’s very power to believe is reason enough to hold on for a better day.

the enemy seeking vengeance in the mind is released to die.

hope in the darkest of place and in the violation of spirit,

lives in the wide open wonder, questioning how much can one take?

hope becomes the only strength to decide here is where it ends…

here is where life begins with optimism in spite of such odds.

life is lived another day and that in itself is beautiful.

Another installment from "Violations Of Black."

I wrote this poem at the end of last year. Most of this stuff comes pouring out of me at an alarming rate in order to finish one poem. It's rare now to actually sit and write a few of these, without overthinking and analyzing what it is that's going into it. Yet, I find that when I do write these, they are another way for me to express obviously, the inner parts of myself that for some reason, I cannot relate to in personal conversation with anyone. Most of the images come from a place within me that I might not be all that comforted by, or am most comfortable with. But, I figure part of the creative process for me to truly write as I do, is to color words to a point that lead somewhere, but leave enough room for people to interpret how they need to. Anyway, here is one of the latest poems from "Violations Of Black."

not i and never me

12.02.08

i can’t see the blindness in front of me;

believe the darkness - whole or not?

to not crush the dread or fear;

bound to unreason of what I believe—

treason!

if I faded into the years of time,

how would my convictions

stand for me on their own?

i can’t hear the lies outside of me!

they push their edges of pursuit

into my eardrums and pupils dilated.

i grip and grasp for a sound mind

and a young body to exist from.

the dirt around me begs me

to grab onto the fallen blood drops;

running from my abused heart.

yet, the frantic balance of life

between death begins to suffocate.

i dream of sensation when all

sounds become silent.

my eyes shut out the scenery,

and my hands open wide

to feel air on my fingers.

the inflammation of my serenity

dies without warning—

i can’t see the blindness in front of me;

but I can feel the hatred

tightly consume the shards

of what’s left of my faith.

the ransom called my life

has not paid for what i assume—

chases me through moments

of happiness and confidence.

the ground cries out for my fingers

to grasp it ever so gently—

the blood lies waiting in drops;

waiting for coagulation.

perhaps the death and life

of wounded faith marks a man—

forever!

what is that open handed destiny?

what is that knowledge of choice?

I do know…

answers come from

not i, but who was!

Spiritual Desert: Part Two

As it's been since February since I wrote the last entry in the saga that is my spiritual desert, things have somewhat progressed as I am finding some renewed energy and direction as to what and where God might be leading me, namely out of the desert and into the life that He wants for me. As I am being led out of the desert, I have experienced that dependency on Him as I never have, and yet all that has done has created more questions and more intuitive sketches as to what it all looks like. Since last February, creativity as come and gone, leveled out, and come back for about a month, and is now circling around my calendar doing touch and goes here and there, but feels inconsistent. The throttle has been pushed forward, and the church's afterburners are turning and burning and we just started for the year. Yet, there are events and ministries I am excited to see take shape and hopefully be blessed to grow and be important for people in their own spiritual deserts or wherever they may be in their lives. I stand on the edge of desert and see this beginning to happen around me.

What's been a huge part of the journey for me into and out of the desert is trying to become more in touch with who I am, and why I am. Over the past couple years, I have changed for the better by releasing anger, letting go, not being consumed by resentment or lack of forgiveness. I have done some gut-wrenching work to be able to stand in the pulpit as one who is working on the very issues of life that I am calling people to examine for themselves. The consistency needs to be honest as to who I say I am. If I say I am a follower of Jesus, am I pursuing that life in examination of who I am, what are my motivations, how do I continue to live as a man of integrity for my family and for my church, how can I live a life of faith and not claim it as my own and all the opportunities that come with it all? See, many people want the Christian name only...it somehow makes them feel good. Yet, who asked the poignant question, "What's in a name?" Claiming to be Christian without accepting the opportunities or the choices for life that come with it, is wanting the free meal, but not honoring the dinner host.

I was sitting in a bible study yesterday, and this very idea came up in conversation: where God invites everyone to the come and celebrate with Him the life lived in the kingdom of God. Matthew 22:11-14 gives us this disturbing and very real picture of a person who comes to the wedding feast (the groom being Jesus, the bride being the church) where the king (God) is throwing a celebration, where all people are invited to present their best out of who they are. Yet, there is one man who comes without a proper wedding robe on. Like today, Jews at the time, would wear ceremonial outer garments (wedding robe) as an outward sign of celebration, love, and respect. It was their version of the tuxedo. This man shows up in ripped-up jeans with holes in the crotch and rear, wearing a Poison t-shirt ready to party. The king asks the man, "Friend, how is it that you are here without wedding clothes?" The man says nothing in response. The king is so offended by this man's lack of care by not even trying in the slightest to come and give his best, than he has him bound and thrown out into the streets. All this man cared about was receiving a free meal. He wasn't there to honor the king nor was he there to celebrate the union of Christ to his church...he was there for himself, and didn't care about anyone else regardless if he was invited or not. Needless to say, I don't want my life to be an examination of indifference to the One who invites me out of the desert and into the celebration that IS my life He gave me.

Standing on the edge of the desert with my back to it, is realizing that I don't need to live there. That desert does not define me. It does not weigh me down. It cannot kill me. It cannot paralyze me, and it cannot stop me from moving ahead. For me, it's coming out of that desert a wiser person and making choices that live aligned with the character and integrity of Christ himself. Maybe this search and struggle and eventual victory out of the desert, is necessary for me to be clear about the Spirit's prompting in my life. Because for me, coming to terms with that prompting has never come easy at a moment's notice. I have had to work at it, discern it, and spend some time seeking out advice from those amazing people around me who I consider truth-tellers; those people who aren't afraid to offer their observations and musings. I have found that when I try and make the journey by myself, that's when I get into trouble and look around and see no one else with me. That's when I begin to make choices that are not consistent with who I say I am. And that's not who God calls me to be. God calls me to live out of that desert experience as one who knows a dependency on Him, seeking His wisdom and counsel for my life, along with the people He knows are going to love me and tell me the truth even when it hurts. Because God knows as I do, my life as well as my salvation is at stake.

Right now, there is new direction, a new sense of drive, a sense of energy in my faith and my life that I haven't had in a while. And I think it's because I know what my life feels like and how it's lived without God or without looking to Him for guidance. I don't want that, and God doesn't want that for me either. God wants my life to be centered in His Son, for me to offer my best into the church so that others may be changed or blessed. Not that I have the be all end all power to change people, but that from the experiences I have, I offer those in a shared commonality of our work in progress to become the people God is changing us to be. Maybe, just maybe, people can see how God works in me, and that might allow them to look into themselves to see God working in them. Then again, maybe we all need is to get ourselves into the desert, for us to come out the other side, changed, renewed, cleansed and resurrected! Once we have been there, we may just become even more tuned into God's presence as He was there in the desert with us the entire time. The question is: Did we notice Him? How many deserts do we have to be in before we take notice of God and begin to look to Him for strength as He accompanies us out of them? How long will we stand there in those deserts before we give up trying to make it out on our own, raise up our hands, and surrender? Those deeply placed imprints of my feet are still in that sand, but I am no longer there. Thank you God!

Spiritual Desert: Part One

I recently was meeting with a woman whose life is out of control. She is a recovering alcoholic, is the mother of three children, and is currently finalizing a divorce from her husband of 18 years. She is in a very fragile place right now. She is lonely, confused, hurt, and angry that her life has taken this unexpected detour. Let's face it...no one enters into a marriage with the understanding that divorce will be the inevitable outcome. When a marriage ends, both people experience the same kinds of emotions as when a loved one dies. The feeling of loss and grief is the same thing. For this woman I listened to, she feels like she has spent so much time and energy fighting this battle alone and without God around her. It's as if she is in the desert all by herself, trying to survive by her own will power and strength. What she admitted to me the other day was, she has finally come to the conclusion that she cannot do it anymore and she is desperate for God.

Life has to be difficult and without too many options to be desperate enough to seek out a dependence on God. I know too many people who live life on their own terms, pretending to believe that if they just believe in themselves hard enough, they can get through any circumstance in life on their own. In a sense, they have given up on the institutional church because they refuse to believe that there just might be a community of people who loves each other enough to accompany anyone who has need through any choice, challenge, or compromise life throws at them. There are actually people who choose to love each other enough, walking with each other so life does not become a desert place? YES! I know some of my skeptical brothers and sisters are tuned into their own cognitive and philosophical know how to try and reason that the goodness of each other is not exactly dependent on belonging to a community centered around Christ. They would have me believe that there are inherently good people without the need to be Jesus followers to be the pre-requisite in order to help anyone. Being good does not necessarily and automatically make one empathetic, compassionate, forgiving, or loving. There are many good people who choose to believe in the values of humanity rather than be informed and inspired by the values of the kingdom of God. Those values teach that living life is not ego-centric. Ego-centricity is relying on your own intelligence to somehow find fulfillment and value in what you make of life. The focus is on what we do.

Being in a desert place may be the result of choices we made. Perhaps we find ourselves there because we made some poorly thought out choices. We just didn't see the ramifications of our living, and so we find out just how desperate we are when we stand in that desert. Perhaps we find ourselves in the desert because of no choice of our own, but rather choices were made on our behalf and we are now there. I think of people who lose a job - are they in the desert because they want to be there? Only if they were an inefficient employee. But, most people who lose a job may find themselves there, not ready to be there, because that journey was not expected. However we find ourselves in that spiritual desert, we are there. We can stay there, be angry at God for what we think is His mistake and turn our backs on Him only to stay there living in isolation, desperation, and confusion. Or we can meet God face to face in the desert we are standing in.

See, I do not believe being a spiritual desert is a bad thing. I believe we are there for a reason. As I type this, I feel right now in my life, as if I am there. I do not know how I got here, but since Christmas, I have been feeling a bit tapped out, tired, just empty of ideas, and not all that sure about how effective I am as a pastor. That's my own self-assessment talking I know. I would be worried if I never questioned my abilities, confidence, or competence while on the job. There are too many arrogant pastors already out there who never worry, trust me. But, for some reason, I am there. Is my desperation for God any different than the woman I talked to? Not really. We are both looking for strength, nourishment, and hope. Perhaps I will recover some day, find my way out of this place, and drink from the cool waters of confidence, enjoyment, future, and creativity again. BTW, if you want to know what the book is above, check out Soul Survivor by Mike Pilavachi...an amazing read. I am reading it again, and right now, feel like I need to read it and be reminded that somehow, a desert can create a greater dependence on God. That's my hope.

Suicide, Salvation, and the Church!

Recently, I got an email from a friend of mine who was curious about what a church's response might be in offering a funeral for a suicide. She asked me because a friend of a family that friend knows, whose daughter took her own life, approached a roman catholic church who refused to offer a funeral service for them. The church denied them a chance to celebrate that loved ones life! Now, in my experience, I have had to bury people under the most tragic of circumstances. The second funeral I ever had to perform was for a business man who was severely depressed and ended his life with a twelve gauge. What was tragic about his life is that he had everything a man could ever want or need in this life, yet he chose the ending of it. As tragic or as expected as they may be, funerals are meant to be a time in which families can be comforted in their suffering by and through the hope of Jesus Christ who defeated the last enemy, that being death itself. People need to be surrounded with hope and compassion. People want to be comforted no matter what the circumstances of death may be.

In the case of a suicide, the church ought to respond as it would for any death. Offer a funeral in the name of Jesus Christ, preaching the resurrection of hope and life. When churches refuse or restrict a family in their grief by not offering a funeral for their loved one who died by their own hands, that church is not living as the church. It is not being the church. The church should be a community who gathers together to offer life, comfort, grace, and forgiveness among each other. The church should be the type of community where people can grieve their loss without having the added burden of feeling like that church is unable to welcome them because the church cannot deal with such a taboo subject like suicide. When churches write themselves into a corner by how many restrictions they place between themselves and a grieving family, they are behaving as modern day Pharisees: people who would rather pay more attention to the details of what's right and correct, than what's compassionate and needed. When churches care more about the details of who belongs and who does not in life and in death, the church is nothing but a gate-keeping organization of people who think they know what's better for the sake of others. I'm fairly certain churches who behave this way, do nothing but piss God off! Hey churches, do you not know that as soon as you encircle those who are in and who are out, Jesus Christ will always be on the other side of that circle?

Obviously, the hesitation for churches in not offering a funeral for a suicide, is based on the entire notion of salvation. When salvation is only seen as something we can accomplish through our own means as if we can achieve salvation, we deny God's initiation to save us first. We deny the action of God as if God is somehow removed from the whole promise of salvation to begin with. Yes, I believe we live lives of faith to become more like Jesus Christ. We live to be more like who he is as opposed to not fitting more Jesus into our lives. To live as a follower of Jesus is to live the marks of discipleship in a way that not only changes who we are, but betters the world around us by being the people God designed us to be. We do respond to the love of God yes, but to receive salvation entirely by our own merit, is to base salvation on what is referred to as "works." Martin Luther called it works righteousness (this topic is one of the reasons why protestants and roman catholics differ, and this added to the reason to split from the RC church some 500 years ago...thank God in my opinion). As if based on our merit alone, we can earn salvation. Again, it denies the action of God.

Salvation is offered to all people in this life yes. But is salvation guaranteed after death regardless of how a person lived? None of us should pretend to know that specific answer, since none of us as ever experienced that. Maybe how we answer that question, it's becomes a matter of what our experience of God is during our lifetimes. If we see a God who is judgmental and rigid about order and the details in life, then we will see salvation the same way. We make salvation out to look like us. If we see God as a God of compassion, love, forgiveness and grace which is God's unmerited favor, we then have a chance don't we? Anyone of us can be loved in life and I believe even in death. Isn't that the point of the resurrection? To prove to anyone that life is not found on a cross, but in an empty tomb. An empty tomb proves how much God loves us even after death because death is defeated! We believe in Jesus Christ because of the empty tomb. Had he not rose from the dead, we would not not be talking about Jesus. He would be just another silenced rabbi the Jewish authorities silenced and the Roman state killed under the sentence of political subversion. Yet, because he broke the bonds of death and rose, he opened the way of life for all people, people who believe in their hearts that he is alone the savior of the world. That does not mean that getting it right, is necessary! In fact, most faithful people I know are the opposite. They are the most gritty, colorful, outspoken, brutally honest, questioning people I know. They are full of doubt, and for them, faith is about a journey because as they understand, faith seeks understanding. Faith does not assume it.

I think it's sad when people who should know better look to the rule-book first, denying a person the chance to celebrate the life of their loved one. I think it's sad when hierarchy assumes they know just how salvation works in life and in death. Frankly, to assume that is to play God. And I in no way shape or form am ever comfortable in assuming I know God well enough to BE HIM! I work for Him, but am not Him. He has final say. I do not. I will do what I can on this earth with the time I have to do what I believe he wants me to do. To offer His love to all people, and in the name of His son Jesus Christ, offer forgiveness, preach, teach, offer communion, and promote and live as best as I can, a life of grace for myself, my family, and the people I serve. I am just a man trying to do what I can, and through my gifts God gave me, I try to live so that others may find that being in relationship with God is the best possible way to live. And once I die, my life and death is in God's hands. And I would like to believe that the promise of the resurrection, the eternal life that Jesus opened the way to, is given to me as it is for each person Jesus Christ rose for. Maybe, some might say I am way too universalist about this...that ALL people are saved through Jesus. That kind of belief voids our participation in faith as if it's all for nothing. But faith comes out of a trusting and reliant heart that tries as best as it can be, to be in relationship with this Jesus-shaped God. I don't think faith is worthless. Faith is a beautiful motivation for us to believe, to trust, and to rely on the love of a God who is a constant presence, a friend, and a counselor, and a Father. For that faith I seek, I am thankful. Besides, I would rather be just a tad bit universalist in trusting all people are given salvation, than in trying to pretend I know who rightfully earns it and who does not. And if I'm wrong, well at least I had hope in the resurrection during this life as best as I could muster it. That's given me joy and strength to live my life brand new each day. For that alone, I thank God. More later...

I kept having this particular dream over and over, in which I am dying. In that moment of my death, I fall. I see white all around me as I continue to fall. I feel nothing. I fly through the uneasy and yet familiar tension between life and death. And ultimately where I end up is a place of safety where my falling comes to an end. This is how I could put that dream into words as a poem. Hope you like it as morbid or as hopeful as you may read it. More later...

code blue-into-white
04.02.08

feeling nothing left to awaken,
cast away by another hidden day.
sensitivity is at its peak,
crashing the senses of sight
and sound inside my falling awareness.
the violence terrorizes my body.
the old paradigms have worn out,
their systemic movements crawl to me…
this whole thought stalls me for a second…
i stand up and see this bed made.
it is white, billowy, and sterile.
the covers are pulled to a side,
as if it is prepared to be occupied.
i step closer to it, put my hand gently
on the comforter, and feel its folds.
i brush my fingers over bumps,
and leave an impression as I push on it.
i lift my hand, close my eyes,
and hear a voice behind me.
i close my eyes, look down,
angrily take off my shirt,
take down the jeans, slip off the socks,
and crawl into this unclaimed bed.
i pull the covers to my neck,
i begin to feel warm, hot even.
i look around to get my bearings.
the space I am in is surgical white.
it is blinding, but I can look at it.
there are no corners to this space.
it is as if white surrounds me,
above, below, beside,
on and underneath me.
i can only make out the bed I am on.
it feels so good.
i sink into the mattress.
my body feels free to sink into it.
i keep falling, until I slip
through the mattress, and see the hole
i have left in it.
i fall slowly,
i scream but I can hear no noise come
out of my mouth.
i try to listen…there is just silence.
i fall away from this space into a replay
of my entire life in what seems a second.
it plays until a moment of black.
that final moment fades into white,
and becomes smaller the more I fall.
i feel my body accelerate now…
i pick up speed rapidly.
i push my arms out like wings.
i push my head back.
i spread my legs apart.
i notice, i begin to not feel my legs,
my arms are there, but I cannot feel them.
i cannot feel the air enter my lungs anymore.
the white around me begins to blur.
my sight disappears, my eyes close,
my mouth shuts, my hands open.
i fall,
i fall,
i fall.
i fall into the space between life and death.
i fall between consciousness and sensation.
i fall from chaos into slow movement.
i am between here and there,
and i can’t stop this.
where is the end?
twisting and turning-
headfirst traveling.
falling
“where is the sunlight?”
“i want to feel it on my face again.”
“where is the sun…”
shadows
shadow light
merging warmth
warm
i am warm again.
i look up to see a black hole on a white background.
i then glance around, and see the blinding white.
i cannot gain focus.
the white around me suspends me from moving.
i can’t feel anything…
my lungs don’t breathe…
my eyes don’t blink…
my hands don’t move…
i am stopped.
i am here.

Do Balloons Attract Buyers?

The other day, I was coming back from a prolonged blitz-run to Janesville. The weather was awful as is the usual case for Wisconsin this time of year. But, I decided to trust my steed's ability to plow through such nastiness and truck my way home. Actually, truth be told, the roads were fine once I got on them. I arrived in Evansville, a little sleepy town along my route home. As you leave EV, there are two car dealerships along the highway, one on the left and one on the right, Chevy and Ford split by asphalt!

I noticed how these new vehicles were covered in snow, and then thought how sad it was to see such an inventory sitting there. Of course, who in their right mind would buy these ridiculous little sports cars Chevy is trying to pimp out for the average middle-aged unhappy guy who swills martinis and smokes only when drinking? Yet, as I was passing the Ford dealership something caught my eye that I had never noticed before. The entire inventory of vehicles sitting in the Ford lot, were not only snow covered, but attached to the wipers were about three feet of ribbon anchoring colorful balloons. I slowed down and took notice, and then laughed my ass off. The absurdity of seeing these beautifully made F-150s and Mustangs, and other assorted models covered in about four inches of snow and the attached to some balloons just made for a strange picture. I began to question the reasoning for luring potential customers with such a simplistic device as colorized rubber filled with helium anchored to brand spankin new trucks. I wondered if there was actually a potential buyer might be taken in because perhaps he may want to buy a truck, but rode the fence with such a decision. Perhaps it was not until he noticed as I did, his favorite colored balloon attached to the truck he wanted. Are balloons the most qualified attractant for such potential buyers. I mean, really?

What about incentives, a ridiculously low percentage APR, hell even throw in a TV, and then maybe I would look. But balloons? Really? As if people are that prone to being attracted to grace your place of business because, ooooh you have balloons sitting out front. It gives the impression that this car dealership is throwing a party and we are the suckers who are invited. Quite honestly, the American auto industry is in trouble and has been for quite some time. I think it's a strange, stupid, and perhaps a slap in the face for the hard working people who actually made those vehicles. It's as if seeing such a cartoon-ish and dumbed-down sight as I did, is going to make me feel confident enough to actually purchase what I am supposedly being attracted to! My own conscience says, "That's a marketing strategy that works for four year olds." Course, they cannot even afford to buy a headlight! Hey dealership, show me what kind of deal I can get instead of making me feel stupid enough to turn into your lot and look around without giving much thought as to why...do balloons make one forget all reason and sensibility? Apparently, by the massive inventory this dealership holds, the balloons have failed. Thank GOD! More later...