Got a Call?

 Dear Family in Faith,

“Got a Call?”  …One of my claims to fame that maybe not one other living soul knows about (because the people who would have known have all died) is that back in the late ‘90’s a couple of PCUSA staff persons asked me to write the script for a video being created by the Office of Theological Education.  I didn’t even get credit in the credits (so, even if you have an old VHS VCR hooked up to a television, and you borrowed the video from my office shelf, you could watch the video and still not know it was my script!).  In those days, the soundtrack was cheezy ‘80’s electronic music and the theme centered around an old “cordless” telephone ringing—calling PCUSA congregations to “action” in support of the Theological Education Fund—a holdover project from the reunion of the Presbyterian Church in 1984). 

The intent was to create a two-pronged promotion—help churches support a denomination-wide funding project for our Presbyterian seminaries; and invite youth and young adults to consider a “call to ministry.”  “Got a call?”  …get it?  [There might also be other reasons the video didn’t have wide acknowledgement!  …but I digress.] 

We wanted everyone to know that all of us have a “Call” to ministry.  For some it’s answered in the form of considering ministry of Word and Sacraments, or ministry of Ruling Elder or Deacon.  Or for congregations, the “call” to support theological education for ministers and church leaders for sustaining the Church’s ministry and witness far into the future.  “…Got a call?”  Yes.  Yes you do!  We believe that God is calling ALL of us to respond to God’s witness in Jesus Christ! 

Liturgically, the journey that begins with the birth of Jesus, is also encapsulated in the journey of the Magi who were called and followed a star to “see” Jesus; is also made manifest in Jesus’ call that is answered in his baptism and temptation; is continued in his calling followers and believers in Galilee, and even reaches out of the stories of scripture to “grab” all of us and drag us into stories of ministry, too.  What kind of ministry?  That’s what the next few Sundays in the lectionary help to “flesh out.”  We’ve been seeing who Jesus is.  Now we’re going to begin to hear about what Jesus is calling US to do. 

Wait!  Isn’t enough that we see who Jesus is?  …and believe in him?  Do we really have to be called to do something more?  What’s wrong with just stopping at the confession of faith, “Jesus is Lord”—my personal Lord and Savior? 

In short …nothing’s “wrong” with that.  It’s just that once we’re “in the room with Jesus” …things happen.  The definition of what it means to “follow Jesus” isn’t like Magnum P.I. or the F.B.I. following someone, recording their movements, and filing a report.  As “followers” of Jesus, we’re not like the Peanuts gang who “follow” Charlie Brown as he carries the poor little Christmas tree away from rehearsal after everyone thought he did a lousy job—to see what happens.  Rather, to “follow Jesus” means following enough to see Charlie Brown “give up” on decorating, but then the gang suddenly sees their place in “fixing up the little tree” until it becomes a spectacular tree. 

I believe that once we’ve found ourselves in the presence of Jesus Christ—things change in how we see and understand the world.  And we become people pressed to fix the stuff that we see is less than stellar.  That we begin to do the same kinds of things that we see Jesus do—even if it’s not exactly the same way.  We feed people, we participate in healing people, we want to help people having a bad day or an awful week.  In other words, Jesus invites us to respond to the world like he does.  And “watching him do it,” is supposed to be the means to our own introduction to, “doing it,” too! 

This Sunday, not only our scripture readings but our election of new church officers invite us to see and confirm God’s call to real people in the world (our people) who are being called by God to particular purposes in the work of Jesus and the work and leadership of our congregation.  In part, these are the people who see God’s work in the world, and will be calling our congregation to address it—much like Jesus who sees God’s work in the world and invites others to join him in ministry.  This shouldn’t be a moment where we say, “Oh good.  Here are the people who are called to do God’s work”—while we sit back and watch.  Rather, this is the moment where we entrust called leaders, to pay attention to where Jesus is calling us all together, to be working in ministry, for the sake of God’s kingdom.  These aren’t people we’re giving jobs to.  These are people we hope and pray will help point us to OUR “CALL” to respond to Jesus. 

Hear that?  …that’s your phone ringing !  YOU’VE got a call! 

Thank you, Jesus.  We’re all trying to follow.  “See you” in Church.  

 Dear Family in Faith,

Here’s my disclaimer: *following Jesus* is hard.  And, it doesn’t always work like we expect!  So, to help us remember our call to “follow Jesus”, in the last few years we’ve distributed Epiphany star-words in worship to celebrate Epiphany, Jesus’ baptism AND help shine light our calling.  […Do you know where your star-words are?] 

In past years, I’ve asked our DCE, Susan, to help curate a list of words, used in other churches, so we could have some tried and vetted words to work from.  But this year, I thought “if the point was offering illumination to “follow Jesus,” maybe starting with the words Jesus uses to tell followers and believers …is the way to go.  So, our star-words this year came straight from Luke’s gospel, chapters five and six—all words and phrases we’ve heard before …but bluntly pointed as only Jesus can.  So, maybe harder.  Last year, I got “rest.”  This year?  My star-words are—“Give to everyone who begs of you.” 

I confess, when I took my star-words from the baptismal font a few weeks ago in worship, I had peeked first.  I knew the content of the top card, before I took it—and it burdened me, even before I picked it up.  I didn’t like like the challenge; furthermore, I didn’t want it!  Like Jesus praying in the garden for any way for the cup to pass him, I really wanted to have reached into the stack and taken another card.  These star-words feel like my own cross …laid on my shoulders and leading me to my own Golgotha!  In my head, I immediately began throwing up my list of other “hard things” I would much-prefer spending my time with …praying for my enemies, being good to those who hate me, giving away possessions—that I also, already, was conveniently avoiding, careful to ensure that they can’t benefit from too much of my attention!  I’m not dissing Jesus’ words, or his desire we follow; it’s just …you know …they’re hard. 

“Give to everyone who begs of you.”  …Already bristling, I resisted even more.  I don’t even like people having to beg.  I wish the that people who have need—(whatever it is)—could just “ask for it,” and have it; as Jesus says, “ask, and you shall receive.”  I believe the works of Jesus change lives; they shouldn’t reinforce a system of neediness that requires ongoing maintenance.  Even if Jesus says, “the poor will always be with you,”  I think we’re smart enough to fix it!  As Desmond Tutu gets credited with saying, “Eventually you have to stop pulling people out of the river to go upstream and find out why they’re falling in.”  We can do this—create a world order that solves begging!  …But in the face of someone immediately in need of a warm place and a meal?  …awaiting what may never be, isn’t of Jesus. 

I have a friend who also tries to *follow Jesus*, formed by a summer camp experience where he ended up giving away the camp-store—because he just KNEW Jesus wanted every camper to have ice cream—even as they couldn’t afford it!  …I confess, I believe fervently that Jesus wants everyone to have what they need and to be relieved of their sufferings.  Yet, most of the time, despite my believing, I’m disciplined and often resigned to just saying “No.”  It’s difficult and messy wading through the testimonies people seem trained to offer, as if burdening those whom they ask, with a story, is what releases our grasp on the money being sought rather than any help we might give.  I nearly always practice the direct opposite of the star-word guide I’ve received as a burden.  You can call me, “Scrooge.”  I feel I’m saying, “Bah Humbug, Jesus!”  But such “no’s” save entanglements.  Plus, I know FPC assists with many needs. 

…but last Sunday, a man came in before worship; he claimed being a child at FPC in his youth; he’d returned to El Dorado to bury a last living relative, and his truck’s rear axle blew up, destroying the engine (…of course, right outside the cemetery on Champagnolle Road, just after the burial, and when he walked to get help, someone came along and took his suitcases he’d left unprotected in the pickup bed).  He claimed living in Bardstown, KY and his church, where he claimed he was on the Board of Deacons, had a fund to help travelers.  He didn’t want to ask, but he’d already spent two nights in the cold and couldn’t bear another.  …some money was to arrive “general delivery” for him on Monday …he planned to rent a truck at Enterprise to drive home (even if they had to bring one from Magnolia if one wasn’t available here), but not before repaying my generosity.  I never expected to see him again …but shortly after driving him to a motel, paying for his room, and making sure he had food, he reportedly and inexplicably fled.  I confess, I’m only a little embarrassed.  I do, almost always, say, “No;” but the truth is, I also can’t account for what happened to the underwear and nightgown I gave to a woman who’d called, saying she’d lost all her clothes and was having hip surgery and needed them (…who asks for underwear they don’t really need?).  …*Following Jesus* isn’t for the faint of heart. 

…My star-words hang right near my desk still, these days, reminding me of Jesus’ invitation.  I don’t think I’m effective doing them; but I admit, my star-words no longer feel like a cross.  I’ll try getting them right.  Somedays, I’m sure, its got to work out.  Somedays, the star-words might even help; though most often, they’ll still be a challenge.  Thank you, Jesus.  I’m trying to follow.  

 Dear Family in Faith,

This Sunday’s gospel reading begins with this:

“Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country.”  (Luke 4: 14)

Luke doesn’t share the contents of that report; but it will become clearer that at least part of that report could have included healings, helpings, and feedings for people in Capernaum—which he will not do for the people of Nazareth.  But only three chapters later, there are plenty of these “reports,” and Luke summarizes Jesus’ ministry for John the Baptist:

“Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them.”  (Luke 7:22)

Everywhere that Jesus is, these things are true.  This is our faith—what we believe about God’s work in the world. 

Last week, I became distressed hearing the president of ACHI (the Arkansas Center for Health Improvement) report the ACHI’s board was recommending, “persons 65 and older, families with unvaccinated children, and anyone with cancer, diabetes, lung disease, or heart disease should ‘shelter in place;’ and that (at the time) 175 Arkansass had died of COVID infections in the first ten days of the this new year. 

I let the recommendations sink in for a moment.  …I’m pretty certain with one or two exceptions, those categories cover nearly everyone coming to worship in-person these days, including staff, including myself.  With all the news reports of the Omicron variant circulating so easily among vaccinated and unvaccinated populations, it’s been easier to lose sight of the fact that people are still dying!  And I’ve found myself struggling again with the idea that someone among our fellowship might die, having been exposed to COVID at Church. 

It bothers me even more, that our sense of what needs to “go on” or “continue” or “be normal again” continues to put our heartfelt desires at the expense of those who are dying as a result.  When Governor Hutchinson meant to dismiss ACHI’s recommendations by responding that Arkansans, “…can’t stop living,” I couldn’t help but think that since the pandemic began, nearly a million Americans, including nearly ten-thousand Arkansans have done just that—stopped living—as a result of COVID-19 

The pandemic has surely cast a pall over nearly everything in our lives.  It’s not enough that the disease is literally killing us—so many of us; the havoc that’s been wreaked in our day-to-day lives adds up, too.  It’s easy to blame COVID for what we see as “problems” in our way of life now—including attending Church or having familiar in-person Church activities.  The recent spike in cases-counts, positivity rates, and deaths, forced a new round of cancellations of activities and events—including some churches in town choosing not to have in-person worship, and our Presbytery and Synod transitioning planned, in-person meetings we had been anticipating for months, because both daily life and travel are precariously and unpredictably affected. 

This “death” is seemingly all around us.  Yet WE believe, everywhere Jesus is: The blind see.  The lame walk.  The lepers are healed.  The dead are raised. 

Over and over, the stories of our faith remind us—demand of us to have faith—that God somehow intervenes, that death isn’t the last word, that we need not be afraid.  Yes, we all die; we do not simply live forever—untransformed.  Neither we as human beings, nor the collective “we” of our fellowships and institutions.  As long as we’re living, we’re also dying.  But we believe Jesus is among us, transforming us …but that’s not a “get out of death, free” card.  It’s an invitation to be transformed.  This isn’t to suggest in any way that COVID is God’s agent to get us to be more faithful, or die.  No.  This is to say we believe in a God of resurrections.  That even though we die, we will live again.  Our chief end isn’t simply to survive, or exist; but to become what God would have us become.  …Like Jesus, who is baptized, tempted, then starts ministering.  Like fishers dropping their nets to follow Jesus.  Like Jesus, who touches the sick and the dead because he knows death isn’t binding  Like a congregation, continuing to do ministry, like Jesus, come what may, to infinity and beyond.  Death comes for us all; but so does resurrection. 

Maybe it’s easier to think that everything is dying, that we have lost, that the good news has escaped us.  …But we believe God transform s us; indeed, the dead are raised.  None of us knows what tomorrow brings.  Rather, we believe in the midst of everything going on around us, though: the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the dead are raised.  Blessed be!  Blessed be!  

 Dear Family in Faith,

Last Sunday we celebrated the Baptism of the Lord.  The annual observance, which follows Epiphany, has always been special to me in adulthood, because it’s a wonderful occasion to celebrate the reaffirmation of our baptismal vows.  Presbyterians practice infant baptism—which means that many of us were baptized as infants, and may not remember our baptisms.  So, reaffirming our baptismal promises allows us to give full voice to those vows.  When infants or children are baptized, the parents and congregation give voice to the baptismal promises—which is part of why confirmation becomes important—because that’s when we confirm the promises once made on our behalf. 

Sometimes, baptism can seem like a personal, private moment.  In fact, many congregations practice the sacrament of baptism in small groups, for just the family, where children are not bothersome to a service of worship, and the baptism gets recorded but not many people “see it” as it happens.  I once went to church where a baptism was announced before worship, as if it were being celebrated, but where no one saw the family, the child, or heard the vows. 

But baptism is not some rite of passage. 

Matthew Skinner writes about Luke’s story of Jesus’ baptism that,

“…we should see Jesus’ baptism as his declaration of a revolutionary commitment to God’s plan and to the well-being of God’s people.  It signals the willingness to be a part—the crucial part—of the new order God has pledged to enact and God begins to enact in Jesus’ public ministry.” 

I would venture to guess that when you hear the word, “baptism,” you’re not thinking or imagining an act of “revolution.” 

The water of baptism is placed upon us as a sign of God’s “revolutionary commitment” to the well-being of God’s people.  And I like to remind people that this is a sign and reminder to us all that we belong to God.  And God fitting us and the world for righteousness.  And when we’re responding in the affirmative to those promises, either in confirming or reaffirming the baptismal vows or professing them on the part of infants and children—we’re committing ourselves to God’s revolutionary plan that means to turn the world upside down and inside out! 

We practice infant baptism because we know that life is uncertain.  In the first century, infant mortality rates were staggeringly high; and baptism was viewed as a requirement for salvation.  Frankly, church leaders didn’t have a good answer for grieving parents, so baptism was moved from the end of life to the very beginning of life.  Baptism is the sign or “mark” that we belong to God—something that can’t be taken away from us no matter what trouble we might find, whether by our own cause, or not.  In the story of the Prodigal, for example, despite dissolute living, the younger son finds his way home, again.  When we baptize our children, we have God’s assurance of protection for them. 

Somehow, saying those words, out loud, together—makes them a kind of “performative language.”  By them, we make our own declaration of a revolutionary commitment to God’s plans and to the well-being of  God’s people.  It means we should hear our names as people with whom God is well-pleased!  It’s why we should understand our lives having been converted to God’s revolutionary causes.  It’s why we should see and recognize one another among the saints of God, working at transformation marked by forgiven sins and the reality of sharing together with God’s own self through the Holy Spirit.  That, we too, have become a part of the human flourishing and divine compassion the Bible sets forth and promises, and that we are the evidence that God means business! 

In ancient Israelite religious practice, baptism—or ritual cleansing—marked a turning point from an old life to a new one.  Like “new year’s resolutions,” it often accompanied one’s intention to “change” habits, practices, traditions, and served notice to others of a new identity.  In this week’s gospel lesson, Jesus transforms the vessels for “ritual purification” for a wedding feast into the vessels for wine for the wedding party!  Whether they knew it or not, the guests receiving the “best wine” are drinking to a new identity inspired by God and delivered by the Holy Spirit!  A radical transformation for the guests and the staff, and those who follow Jesus! 

REMEMBER: We are people called to be LIGHT and LIFE and LOVE—testifying to hope born anew and that joy is coming.  However forgetful we become, God remembers.  However weary we are, God does not grow tired.  However things seem to be falling apart around us, God is still creating.  The whole point of Jesus being born and doing the things he does, can be summed up in, “love one another.”  God’s revolutionary commitment is the well-being of God’s people.  Our c ommitment in baptism should be the same.  

Light

 Dear Family in Faith,

This week’s picture in the upper right-hand corner comes to us from First Presbyterian Church, Boise, Idaho.  The sanctuary there is adorned mostly with stained glass windows that are red and blue hues, except for one, that happens to provide the “light” to illumine the manger …when the sun is in the right place, at the right time—and only for a few fleeting moments.  My friend Andrew serves as pastor there—and wrote this week about his returning to work after the Christmas and New Year’s holidays: 

There are many ways I’m feeling the bleakness. Directly or through shared pain…. Uncaring neighborhoods. Raging pandemic. All too many deaths of friends and congregation members and family. Challenging diagnosis. Lack of resolve to remove toxic patterns. The cold wet mud sucking reality that this is a hard world. 

This image is holding my center however. Shared to me by a friend and coworker, this happened late afternoon today. The manger is still on our chancel for Christmastide before it gets replaced by the baptismal font for the Baptism of Jesus Sunday this weekend. And it’s being bathed in the yellow glow of one of our stained glass windows. But it’s not just any window. All the windows on that side are red and blue.. except one. One bright window of whites and yellows on a wall of deep reds and blues. That window? It’s the “I am the Resurrection” window. That’s right …like the star in the sky for the magi of old that light is shining into the bleakness to remind me that hope is born anew, and joy comes with the morning. 

Like Andrew, I returned to work this week too.  In addition to knowing about surgeries and medical treatments, family setbacks, and stressful situations, I was caught up by at least a dozen Facebook posts by church friends across the country, announcing to the world that they had tested positive for COVID despite having been vaccinated and boosted; all to add to a growing collection of heart-wrenching stories of people I know suffering from post-COVID complications and conditions.  At a board meeting, the board President reminded us that he, too, had contracted COVID, in spite of two vaccines, the booster, wearing a mask in public, and social distancing—and was clueless about where or how he became infected. There are COVID cases among our Church members, again, over the holidays.  …Frankly, “In the Bleak Midwinter” seems to more appropriately describe these daily realities. 

I know that all of us are tired of hearing the news about the pandemic—just as we’ve arrived at the height of it!  Yet despite all the reasons some people offer for us to be or feel afraid, I’m stubbornly trying to cling to the hope of the good news that the angels announced to the Shepherds at Jesus’ birth—“do not be afraid!”  Jesus hasn’t stopped being the LIGHT the World!  This is STILL God’s GOOD creation.  Even so, I know that what we all wanted for Christmas was an end to the pandemic wreaking havoc on our daily lives and our ability to move freely in others’ company indoors and outdoors, on planes or trains, in homes and especially at Church!  I know all of us are tired and exhausted and desperately want to move on. 

In such bleakness, it’s easy to turn to the fatalism of, “whatever will be, will be”—or, “if I get it, I get it”—or, worse, “if I get it, it must be God’s will” …simply because it offers a kind of prophetic certainty that we are victims of circumstances we can’t control.  Instead of giving in, or giving up—our faith insists that God loves each of us and calls all of us to life, in abundance.  This last weekend while I was away, I heard a sermon in which a Catholic Priest encouraged his congregation to resist the “covid-isms” we’ve come to live with, like mask and vaccine mandates, because they are Satan’s tools meant only to ruin believers’ souls.  He refused to acknowledge that the Christian gospels testify to Jesus teaching over and over to defend the weak, help the suffering, and our serving others’ needs before our own—including healing the sick, feeding the hungry, comforting the afeared, AND calling us to “follow him.” 

I’ve said this before.  The hardest parts of COVID …may be yet to come.  I still believe following Jesus includes defending, helping, and serving others—like Jesus does; and doing what we can to continue to try and stop the spread of this disease!  It’s exhausting work …calling for more sacrifice, demanding more of our attention, forcing us into behaviors we want to resist yet insists instead that we focus on our neighbors’ wholeness and needs rather than our own.  Because that’s what Jesus did …and this is clearly who Jesus is when he declares that LOVE is laying down our lives for our friends. 

We should not be afraid.  We walk in faith knowing that the one who has come—is coming again; so that we can defy anyone or anything that brings oppression, pain, death, or destruction.  This disease is insidious; we don’t want it to control our ability to love one another.  If you can, get a vaccine—both doses; and a booster dose.  Wear a well-fitting, high-quality mask indoors.  Practice physical distancing and good hygiene.  Be kind to others—in bleakness, all of us need that. 

REMEMBER: We are people called to be LIGHT and LIFE and LOVE; following a star, testifying to hope born anew and that joy is coming.  However forgetful we become, God remembers.  However weary we are, God does not grow tired. However things seem to be falling apart around us, God is still creating.  Our stories aren’t over.  Christmas isn’t just a birthday party; Jesus’ whole point, might be as simple as “love one another.”  In the bleak midwinter, something so simple has never been more important!  

The Heart of Christmas

Dear Family in Faith,

NOW—right now—is the heart of Christmas.  …I know (I know …I K.N.O.W.) it doesn’t feel like it.  Everyone’s moved on.  “Happy New Year” is the new seasonal greeting.  We’ve grown weary of Bethlehem and almost everyone has moved on.  The Christmas section of Hobby Lobby is only half-the-size it had been, a few weeks ago.  The egg nog’s all gone. 

But these days are, in fact, at the HEART of Christmas.  And let mine be the voice that encourages you to spend a little extra time at the stable this year, savoring the mystery of the incarnation.  To sit, wide-eyed over the chorus of the angels, the visit of the shepherds, and the twinkling stars overhead—pulling us toward days of quiet rest. 

My friend, David Gambrell, who works in the Office of Theology and Worship at PC(USA) headquarters, writes of Christmas words I’ve shared in worship:

The twelve days between the Nativity of the Lord (December 25) and the Epiphany of the Lord (January 6) lead us on an expansive journey, from something so intimate and particular—an infant in a manger, revealed to local shepherds—to something so grand and universal—the hope of all the earth, revealed to travelers from a distant land. 

So, keep out one of your nativity scenes.  Light a candle beside it.  Be wide-eyed in the wonder of it all.  Be reminded that the infant we adore is the revelation larger than the universe.  And that the God we worship, is the one who holds everything together, as fragile as our world seems.  And that we have flesh, means that we share some part of Christ in each of us, that is the image of God, and ultimately that we are so beloved! 

Remember, too, that Bethlehem is a compound Hebrew word—pronounced “bait leck-um.”  “Bait,” the Hebrew word for house; and “leck-um,” the Hebrew word for bread.  Bethlehem literally means “house of bread.”  And we already know that Jesus is the “bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”  So, Christmas is a kind of stop-over on the way.  A chance to rest and remember, a time to share and take stock of our lives, a place to bread bread together and be nourished by the one who comes as God in the flesh to journey with us. 

Be like Mary.  Ponder all these things in your heart.  Give thanks for what God has shared.  Remember that in response the Magi come bearing gifts.  This is also a season in which giving transforms lives. 

Then, lace up your sandals and take up your shepherd’s staff.  The long journey of discipleship awaits just over the horizon.  We’ll soon be reminded that even our path of discipleship leads from isolation to community, from brokenness to healing, from captivity to freedom, from sin to salvation, and from death to life!  Jesus will offer miracles, teach us that there are better ways of living and loving one another than we often express, call us as disciples to not only “fish for people,” but to take up a faith that focuses on helping and healing and feeding and teaching. 

Jesus is so much more than a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger!  He’s the one who will lead us out of destruction and death to give us life—again and again.  God’s gift, God’s gife—Emmanuel!  Emmanuel!  So that we are never walking along; never left to our own devices; and always capable of changing the world. 

I don’t know about you, but I think the whole world is wondering, again, how we will manage to “go on.”  This collective COVID nightmare for all of us, seems to have left the whole world anxious and eager, but suffering with lack and lethargy.  How do we get going again?  Who will have the answers?  And hopefully, it won’t mean we have to do much!  But I’m afraid that just like Christmas, pain and anguish and effort all come with the light, the love, and the joy.  And like the road leading out of Bethlehem was filled with danger and unknown—so ours will be, as well.  Except our joy has been made complete in the news of the one who is given to us, who walks with us, who helps us and declares for us, “we should not be afraid.” 

The world tries to tell us not to.  But pause.  Breath deeply.  Light a Christmas candle.  Join your heart and mind to others around you—even if only in your heart because they live far away.  Draw strength from the bread of God enfleshed. 

Yours may, or may not, include an experience of wet-smelling used hay and a well-worn feed trough.  But it might need to be handing out warm blankets on a wet winter’s night or a warm casserole through a car door, or a phone call, or showing up in the middle of the night at a hospital, or stopping to help someone change a flat tire, or rescuing a donkey-on-the-loose because beautiful and terrible things happen, and EMMANUEL, too.  You’re in the heart of Christmas.  Hold on!  And …carry it with you, like an ember for a fire, ready to light when needed.  I’m carrying one, too.  

We should Begin Spending More of Our Time Rescuing People

My family has had too much “togetherness.” 

Our eldest child is 15; his younger brother just turned 14 this week; their younger sister is going to be 11 in a few months.  Our home was far more livable for all of us when one of us went to work, three of us went to school, and the other of us could work from home and manage the extracurriculars.  There’s been no school for months; kids are always present; there are few opportunities for having “one’s own space.”  And while it seems reasonable that of the roughly 10 inside spaces and only 5 of us that we could each carve out a niche …um, not so well. 

We were all used to more time, more space, and different activities.  And we’re on each other’s every last nerve.  I could be like this BC (before COVID-19); but now, it’s 24-7.  And while most everyone else around the country has “worked from home,” I’ve had to get away from home in order to work effectively—which has added a whole different kind of stress.  Still, we’re surviving.  But not everyone is. 

If my household is any indication, the rocky summer we are already expecting is probably going to be a lot rockier because of things we’re not talking about as much.  Behind our “shelter in place” facades are real dangers of stress, domestic violence, domestic abuse, depression, anxiety, all mixed up in a cocktail with fear. 

Surely, we know the effects of “shelter in place”—while intended to keep us safe from the virus—have unintended deadly consequences.  We can’t just keep sheltering in place and be unscathed!  And I’m defeated, being told over and over and over that I can’t DO the things I want to.  But it’s not what you think. 

I believe the Church needs to stop saying, “No,” and must begin the harder work of rescuing people. 

I’ve been trying to find a way to say this, but then, as usual, someone else I know says it much better.  Invitingly even.  Here’s what my friend Andrew, who lives and serves a church in Boise, Idaho, shared this week: 

Hey FPC'ers: if you missed it, last night the Session voted to keep the building closed through June (and maybe beyond).

Meanwhile, only the building is closed.

We will begin working on more small group outdoor gatherings. We will work on this for a "mobile worship" experience as well, getting people who are craving in-person gathering together to experiencing worship in small groups with safe distancing and outdoors. 

The Session understands that for some of us quarantine is having a growing detrimental impact socially, emotionally, and physically. There is growing evidence of the consequences of what we are doing to "stay safe".  We are balancing that with what is safe and healthy to do in light of the still progressing pandemic of COVID-19.  We will call on all our imagination—and your imagination—to walk this balancing act together.  There are safer and healthier ways to gather than indoors, stationary, as a large group.  Let's find those ways and use them—we can be safe, and connected—we can see to our emotional and mental health and prevent undue exposure to coronavirus, and this will allow that we stay the course in recognizing that large-scale corporate worship is not safe at this time. 

I live in a different part of the country where we’ve never had a “shelter-in-place” order.  I believe my scientist friends.  But if they’re right, we’re going to reap the whirlwind.  There’s no join in their being right about the virus’ potential devastation.  Though I not-so-secretly want them to be right—but without the consequences.  But while they would have me lie comfortable on my couch for the rest of the year and part of the next, order my groceries in, and spend less money on gasoline than fish food in that time—that just ain’t gonna work.  At all.  Too many people will still die, just not as many from the virus. 

No.  Now is the time to seize opportunities.  Stop telling me what I can't do, and help me to do what we can to rescue people!  We have to find ways to rescue one another, to say “yes” to something, to “be the Church for real,” not just be “ideal.” 

The congregation I serve hasn’t been “closed” either.  But it’s like we’ve gone away on vacation.  Or worse, I fear we’re seen as “hiding in fear” like Jesus’ disciples after the crucifixion.  In fact, because we’re people of privilege, many of could really spend months at home without a paycheck and not really suffer.  Well, except we suffer from all the things money can’t buy (depression, anxiety, diseases, stress). 

But it’s festering.  Death because of COVID-19.  Only, it’s not always the virus.  And the symptoms aren’t just the shortness of breath, fever, feeling bad, not tasting, and the rest of the CDC hit list. 

I need to be reminded, “we can’t do this forever.”  Lets talk about what real, doable, healthy options look like. 

I need to be rescued (mostly from my defeatist thinking).  A bunch of other folks do, too. 

We need to change the conversation.  Seriously.  Before it’s too late. 

We need to begin to spend more time in rescue operations.  Being the church, together again—even if “together” is a moving target. 

...and then there comes Resurrection

Life is not O.K. right now; it’s just not.  All of us are frayed.  All of us are affected by the response to COVID-19 in different ways.  All of us are trying to manage everything that’s normally “not managed perfectly,” and now we’re doing it when we’re not normal and even little things can’t be managed.  

Outside our bedroom we’ve had this distraction.  Some weeks ago, before Easter, we noticed some cardinals had taken up residence right under the window.  Clearly a pair, the momma held down the nest, that this year, was higher in the branches than last year’s nest that had been more accessible from the ground.  And you have to know that last year, the babies occupied the nest, never got flight feathers, and just disappeared one day.   

So on Easter, our part of the world experienced some horrible spring storms, and sometime between Easter and last Sunday we noticed that the nest had become unoccupied.  In particular we noticed the large volume of rain that had overwhelmed our gutters maybe overwhelmed the nest and because we went directly from little babies in the nest to nothing in the nest, and the nest appearing washed out (we noticed because the level of poop in the nest got “flushed” which it normally doesn’t--and NOT washing your hands isn’t the only gross thing we’ve learned about in our house during COVID-19) that, well, you know, nature.  Nature can be less than gracious and generous.  

I took this picture this morning, but it’s what we’ve been staring at for days--the “clean” but empty nest!.  And all the while we had been hoping aginst hope that the little baby birds didn’t die some horrible death.  But it’s hard to hope when you know in the back of your mind what’s happened.  And on top of all this COVID-19 it’was a real kick in the gut.  

I mean, it’s bad enough having to deal daily with the COVID-count of cases and deaths and the lack of ventilators; that we all lost Easter at church, that spring is slipping away, that summer vacation’s in peril!  What’s up with God taking away our little distraction--sort of like the plant in the Jonah story that shades one day, but is withered the next!  Come on, Creator!  

I’m familiar with the idea that “in order for there to be a resurrection there has to be a death.”  This little theological gem has been feeding me for years.  But perhaps, not well enough, a follow-up question by Sarah Howell-Miller that asks, “What needs to die in order for love to rise?  Yes, “death” is necessary for “resurrection” to work; and “resurrection” is not “resuscitation”--so that “resurrection” doesn’t mean starting over at the point “resuscitation” became necessary.  Rather, resurrection requires living newly.   

This morning my wife, who’s been grieving the loss of the baby birds, discovered that what the bird-book describes is true, afterall--that cardinals fledge in 7-10 days.  So you go quickly from big mouths and no bodies in the nest to fly-able chicks.  

So here’s the most photogenic of the chicks, watching us warily through the window whilst awaiting momma and poppa taking turns bringing breakfast at a constant and frantic pace.   (Note to self: apparently, teenagers need to eat a lot.  Maybe that’s why kid #2 keeps saying, “I’m hungry,” after every meal.)   We saw at least two of the chicks with newly minted feathers, both serviceable for flying and looking like you’d expect a cardinal to look.  And, though THEIRS was no resurrection (I can’t speak to the need for “resuscitation” after the many rounds of storms they’ve had to endure), it was for us!  We who had believed them to be dead; were elated to find they are NOT!  And ...we suspect, now, the same thing happening last year!      

We wasted (err, expended) one of today’s hours watching; trying to vouch for the third chick, and collecting evidence of their daily lives post-nest--and they’re a lot harder to keep up with!  But this distraction--for today--means everything!  

I’m pretty sure cardinals don’t follow the weather on the internet; they don’t know 3 or 4 days in advance that bad storms are coming--they’ve simply been dealing with spring storms since--well, the beginning.   You build a nest.  You do your best to keep safe and keep others safe.  And sometimes, what happens, just happens.  

Resurrection is not resuscitation--we’re not going back to what was before COVID-19 when all this is over, to restart our lives.  We’re going to live in new ways because COVID-19 happened to us, like a storm flooding out a bird nest.  And sure, we need COVID-19 to die and all that; but there are still other things about us, in us, that need to die so that love can rise.   And in the midst of this storm around us--that’s a gift.  

Can we live through this?  How long will it last?  When will it be over?  How will we know?  

My grandfather always said, “life isn’t fair.”  If you’re looking for it to be, it isn’t ever going to be.  We’re not O.K.  We all need hugs and some empathy.  We all need LOVE to rise.  Somewhere in how we’re created, in our relationship with the triune God, we already know how to do that--I think.  If not, Jesus implores us to fiind that part of us and use it.  Find what needs to die, let love rise, share some kindness, watch out for stormy weather, don’t give up.  It’s not about doing it again and again and again (resuscitation).  It’s about fighting, scratching, clawing life out of the dust of the earth until it’s not the same (resurrection).  

Jesus never said life was easy.  He did say over and over he’d be with us, even if it wasn’t (easy or fair).  Oh, and for us not to be afraid.  Especially in storms.  

And for today--that’s everything!  

"Killing The Art of Compromise"

One of the things I thought was so great about Presbyterians was our ability to compromise. 

The Presbytery that helped form my faith and practice in ministry, had a special way of addressing difficult, divisive decisions.  An unofficial, unannounced, ad hoc “compromise committee” gathered ahead of when said divisive issue/concern/debate would come up in the docket, and a “miraculous compromise” got presented to the Presbytery before the anticipated haranguing could begin. 

I thought this was great.  It put conflict on the sidelines and it appeared, people walked away happy. 

It was the art of the smoke-filled backroom deal; it was probably, mostly/only “good ole’(white) boys”; only in my innocence and naiveite could they really have had good intentions, wanted to avoid conflict, and believed they had both Jesus and the best interests of everyone else in mind. 

These committees could boast an amazing “success” rate in appearances of discerning what was acceptable to the assembly—in fact, I witnessed more than one compromise so finely tuned that the sides itching for a fight voted favorably by acclimation! 

Today I can recognize the false reality this process offered.  Even more, that compromise is not working and the pursuit of compromise is killing us!  Working on acceptable outcomes has been replaced by side-taking, then entrenchment and holding out—sometimes just so the other side can’t win. 

Instead, what if everyone in the room could simply “name their need”? 

I just spent 24 hours with a group of church leaders who got to try this on.  I’m glad to admit, some of it pushed my buttons; my old soul likes some things “the way we’ve always done them,” and to think we weren’t so bad at them.  Instead, I got to say, “this is hard for me,” or “that pushes my buttons,” or even, for me to sit on the sidelines and not actively participate. 

The group worked hard to listen as everyone “named their need,” and also for each person to “name the gift(s) each saw available in the room.”  Only then, with an “inventory” to work from, could the group decide together how to meet needs with gifts present.  It wasn’t 100% successful—some needs went unmet.  But everyone got to acknowledge them.  Compromise was replaced by “taking stock/inventory.”

When I came to work this morning and read the front page of the local paper as I walked down the hallway to my office, the big story was another rally for yet another victim of what was described as “gun violence” (a week ago, a well-known high school senior in our community was shot and killed, the investigation is still ongoing). 

I feel acutely that in my community we do not all agree that this was “gun violence;” I noted that one of the city council members named in the article is a prominent African American councilmember who’s self-admittedly been working on a campaign to end gun violence and this kind of killing for at least a decade.  Our community’s already formed opinions about the people involved as well as our presumptions about the outcome being asked for stand in the way of compromise—we are just not going to agree and working for the necessary votes to get to the outcome for some will force the status quo for decades to come. 

But instead, what if we could all simply “name our need”?  Or name our hope, our desire, our dreamed-of outcome? 

I believe if we could all honestly name our need, chances are high that all of us harbor the need for a time to be when young people would not die as this one did; and, additionally even, where we would not see the violence of recent events in Houston, Philadelphia, Dayton, and El Paso—and all the others!  That those of us, who often stand on separate sides, would see we’re really standing together. 

In our small group of 50 church leaders, it made the process for something all of us were used to doing quickly and easily, far more difficult.  But dare I say it, we all felt heard in the process, and even when it didn’t go our way, we all felt affirmed.  And that meant we built strength and hope together at each step—and reduced resentment.  Work progressed and trust grew. 

What if we could slide compromise to the back burner for a while.  Instead of telling each other what we have to have in order to reach agreement; what if we got to listen as each of us named our need, and our individual and collective needs got heard and considered? 

So, we’d have to listen and consider other people’s truth as our own. 

That sounds hard, I know.  It might be hard to do, yes. 

But it’s also something that Jesus says is just real, neighborly. 

What if we could kill compromise and just be more neighborly? 

© Rev. David Stipp-Bethune; Teaching Elder and Pastor, The First Presbyterian Church of El Dorado, Arkansas

A Letter to the Editor I Might Write

Dear Editor,

In recent days we’ve all been forced to endure some of the terrible realities of human life.  We faced reports of violence in El Paso, Texas and Dayton, Ohio.  We endured threats and speculation about shopping at Wal-Mart in our own hometown.  We wring our hands over the safety of “church” on Sundays and if our kids are truly safe at school.  And now we’ve learned again in our town and especially in cities, violence isn’t just at school, it happens at home and in our neighborhoods for inexplicable reasons. 

The thing we’re tempted to believe is that while we hear the news about mass violence in other places, that at least, “it isn’t happening here.” 

But one life is too many.  It doesn’t take multiple lives; one life in our community is enough to diminish us. 

In this conversation, it’s usually presumed we must talk about repealing liberal gun laws if we want to make a dent in human safekeeping.  But what needs to be repealed, is the attitude I have for my neighbor. 

We don’t just disagree—we actually think the worst about other people before we ever talk.  Especially the people we’re taught not to like.  Even worse, we not only call other people names, we say ugly things about them having already believed in their ugliness without ever having spoken.  We trust these created lies as truth, we deceive ourselves pointing to people who will agree with us, and attempt to make the world again in our own image—we’re right and the others we choose to be wrong! 

What needs to be repealed is this attitude of our neighbor by which our innocence is stolen, and by which we participate in the diminishment of human life. 

Too many people simply cannot believe that all of this is supposed to be different.  That life is more than a mere handful of days.  That the Bible teaches that the one who lives to be a hundred will be considered a youth and that anyone who dies at less than a hundred will be considered accursed.  That our attitude toward one another ought to be helping each other live, not letting each other die. 

We must stop letting each other die; and it starts in how we perceive our neighbor.

For Christians, Jesus teaches us that loving our neighbors is on par with the greatest commandment—that we love God.  We cannot love God and not love our neighbor.  When our neighbors die this way, it is a failure of faith. 

So, what needs to be repealed, is this attitude where we think another’s life should be or is less valued than our own.