"Silent Night, Lonely Night: Christmas in Pandemic"

Silver starlight descends with the snow as 

aged hands light Christmas candles, 

alone at home though her family is near.  

Tears trickle with liquid love, reliving holidays past, 

with children and grandchildren gathered 

in a cacophony of grownup laughter, 

baby's cries, childhood play, and teenage angst.  

But not this year.  

Now, she is alone in her silent night,

lonely night, lonely night.

Two doors down the dawn will come 

to babies she will not see.

Little feet will race down stairs,  

delighted squeals above the sound of tearing paper.

But not for her.

This year has taken many things from her:

ability to travel, 

pure breath free from the filter of a mask,

financial security,

social stability.

But the greatest toll is being alone 

on this silent night, lonely night, lonely night.

Her mind reaches back to a couple, young, 

frantic in their need in that quiet Judean town,

turned away from human dwelling,

alone beneath the light of a single star.

Amid the agony of labor, 

a young woman pleads for her mother who isn't there.

Filled with desperation, 

a young man yearns for the steady hand of his father,

nowhere to be seen.

They, too, feel socially distant, isolated.

Silver starlight descends on angel wings as

Joseph kindles his lamp in the stable 

alone among beasts, though people are near. 

Even shepherds keep their distance when they visit,

faces hidden beneath their scarves,

because they are called unclean.

Tears trickle with liquid love, celebrating this present moment, 

grateful for what he does have:

the warmth of a stable, the love of his wife,

a newborn child,

in a cacophony of stable sound, 

and it is enough

on this silent night, lonely night, lonely night.

Grandma's heart reaches to the tent city

surrounded by bustling town, 

figures huddling beneath discarded layers 

of thin tarpaulin, wet cardboard, and sodden clothes.

Turned away from human dwelling,

alone beneath the light of a neon sign.

A cacaphony of souls scream in the night,

a bit of raucous laughter,

others cursing ghosts of the mind,

still more finding solace in strangers' arms

or the warmth and oblivion of a pipe.

Silver starlight descends with visiting angels

who bear no gold, frankincense, or myrrh, 

but whose treasures smell like coffee,

protect like masks and wipes,

and feel like love.

So Grandma puts on angel's wings, which look like PPE.

Leaving her warmth to join the Seraphim,

she shares her manna of  blankets and smiles.

Keen ears listen to well-traveled stories from a safe distance

as hot tears warm her cheeks with liquid love.

It's Christmas in pandemic, 

but change is in the air.

The Star shines as it hasn't done in centuries,

and hope for the nations wispers peace

to a weary and war-torn world.

"No room at your inn," say the mandates from above.

So Grandma takes her love outside

and gives,

behind mask, at a distance,

but gives,

on this silent night, lovely night, holy night.

After the Election - "Now What" for Christians?

Today, after the election, many Christians are asking themselves, "Now what?"  Prior to the vote, believers on both sides of the aisle declared that you can't call yourself a Christian if you vote for the opposite party.  Many Evangelicals voted Republican, believing Trump to be God's anointed man for the presidency, and the defender of conservative family values.  Yet many Jesus-followers supported the election of Joe Biden, believing their candidate to represent dignity and wisdom, as well as the love of Jesus for the outcast and the poor.  Much as Confederate and American brothers prayed to the same God as they battled against each other in the Civil War, believers on both sides of this election claimed to be right.  No matter whether your candidate won or lost the election, Christians across America are asking themselves, "Now what?"

The answer: Act like Jesus.  But what does this mean? What would (or wouldn't) Jesus do, in the aftermath of a contentious election?  If you, as a Christian, want to act like Jesus (which shold be the ultimate goal of every believer), what should (or shouldn't) you do?

1.  Don't gloat.  If your candidate won, it's fine to party, to celebrate, to cry tears of joy, to dance in the streets.  After all, when the disciples told Jesus about their defeat of the devil's forces in His name, Jesus said:

I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Behold, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy. Nothing will harm you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven (Luke 10:18-20).

Jesus recognized, and even enjoyed the victory that his followers celebrated--but he encouraged them to focus on the good things to come in the future, rather than the demonic nature of their spiritual enemy.  I believe Jesus would tell Christians who voted for Biden not to gloat, but to celebrate and look to a brighter future.

2.  Don't complain.  Many Evangelicals who claimed Donald Trump was God's choice for the presidency actually believed him to represent the character of Christ.  Others saw Trump's racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, lies, and deceptions, but likened him to wicked biblical kings like Saul and Cyrus.  Even though those biblical kings had their flaws, those Evangelicals claimed that God put them in office to accomplish particular things.  Similarly, they believed Trump to be God's anointed, as evidenced by the fact that he won the election over Hilary Clinton.  If you believed that Trump's election was evidence that God put him in office, then don't complain now--since, according to your logic, Trump's defeat ought to indicate that he lost God's mandate.  So if your candidate lost, don't complain--just trust that if God chose Trump four years ago, God chose Biden in 2020.

3.  Love your enemies.  If you refuse to gloat or complain, that will go a long way toward acting in a loving way towards those people who you may have considered your political enemies.  Besides loving them, Jesus told His followers to pray for those who persecute them.  Do you feel like the other side has been absolutely horrible?  Do you feel like they deserve to feel that way?  Maybe you're right--but Jesus expects His followers to treat other people with the same grace that they have received from God.  As in grace, God treats us better than we deserve, so believers ought to treat their enemies better than they deserve, as well.

4.  Make peace.  These times have been so divisive, and have been filled with such hate and violence on both sides.  Now is our opportunity to make peace.  Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God (Matthew 5:9)."  It's time to reach across the lines and take the hands (metaphorically, because--pandemic) of the people who see things radically differently from you.  In Matthew 12:25, Jesus said, "Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand."  These are tough enough times for the church, without the body of Christ being divided.  We need the whole body, undivided, to do the work of God.

5.  Continue to Confront Evil.  Yes, God is love, but "Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild" is just a song title.  Jesus wasn't afraid to cast out demons, confront religious and civil authorities, or overturn the tables of economic corruption.  The apostle Paul said, "If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all (Romans 12:18)."  But sometimes it doesn't depend on us.  Sometimes others bring the conflict, and other times the evil is so aggregious that Christians can't ignore it in good conscience.  So, if you call yourself a follower of Jesus, continue to confront evil by opposing injustice.  Stand in solidarity with people of color who are rising up, insisting that their lives matter.  Become an ally for LGBTQIA+ folks, who have to fight for their most basic human rights.  Defend the families of the poor, the alien, the stranger.  As the prophet said, "Let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream (Amos 5:24)!"

For followers of Jesus, it's really important that we ask ourselves, "Now what?"  Because the church has been so divided and divisive that the rest of the world looks at us and says, "So what?"  So what, if you call yourself Christians, if you say you love your enemy, but don't even love your neighbor?  So what, if you say you believe you've received God's grace, but won't even give it to others?  So what, if you claim to have the answers that the world needs to hear, if you can't even get along with each other long enough to ask the right questions together?  So, after the election, "Now what?"  Don't gloat.  Don't complain.  Love your enemies.  Make peace.  Continue to confront evil.  Because in the words of Galatians 5:6, "the only thing that matters is faith working through love."

Photo Credits:

"Fallen NJ Marine returns home" by NYCMarines is licensed under CC BY 2.0

"Athens, Alabama KKK (Ku Klux Klan) Rally and Counter-Protests September 2007" by Gregory.Skibinski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

A Different Path to the Voting Booth

"Something told me go a different way," he told me, "and I started to--but then I turned around and went the same way I usually go.  That's when I had the accident."

I could identify with my friend who told this story, because I've had similar things happen to me.  Maybe it sounds familiar to you, too.

Another friend told me that she was walking home from college night classes, going throught an inner city campus.  Something in her spirit prompted her that she should walk a different route than she usually followed through the dark streets.  She didn't think anything of it, until she arrived home to watch the 11:00 news.  That night, along the street that she would normally have walked, and about the same time, somebody had been assaulted and mugged.  I'm not saying that God saved her and didn't save the other person--that gets into some weird theological problems.  But I am saying was that her own spirit was sensitive to the things the Holy Spirit already knew--and she chose to listen to this intiuitive voice.

I could give hundreds more examples, but I think you get the picture.  You normally follow one path, and something tells you to turn aside and go a different way.  Either you listen and things turn out well, or you don't listen, and disaster results.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, Moses was going along his merry way, tending his father-in-law's flocks, having no notion of being a national savior.  He was just walking down a mountain road, minding his own business, when he saw a burning bush.  The shepherd had to make a decision--to step out of his usual behavior and get spiritually curious, or to continue as usual.  He said, "I must turn aside and see this strange sight (Exodus 3.3)."  The rest is history.

In the New Testament, Saul of Tarsus was on a different road, to Damascus.  As a religious zealot, he'd found it his duty to persecute this new sect of Christians--and he was on his way to do just that.  Then God spoke to him out of a blinding light, and changed his life.  Saul realized that he'd misunderstood Jesus all along, and that the good he thought he'd been doing was not only harming God's people, but caused God pain as well.  So he changed.  Yes--he changed.  Right there in the road, he decided to take a different path.

Today, as you're on your way to the voting booth, I invite you to listen to the voice of God.  Ask God what you should do when you cast your ballot.  This is such an important election--it's too important to just vote the way you have always voted, or to select a candidate because your family and friends are all doing the same thing.  Ask Jesus what He thinks about the candidates--and which candidate most embodies the love of Christ.  Then, vote the way the Spirit leads.

This may mean taking a different path from the way you've always gone.  You may end up voting for a party you've never voted for.  You could end up voting against a candidate you supported in the past.  But remember--this isn't about staying stubbornly in the rut you've worn for such a long time.  It's about taking a different path, if that's what God sets before you.  You may never know the disaster that you avoid, by deciding to go a different way.  Like Saul, you may lose friends because of the change you make.  But deciding to follow Jesus, rather than following what the religious leaders tell you to do, will make all the difference.  It will set you, and this nation, on a path of greatest adventure--one in which not only America, but the world can be blessed.

Today, as you vote, I pray that you'll be willing to change the direction in which we've been headed.  Listen, religious people, to the voice of Jesus, who says, "It's me that you've been persecuting."

"If I Were a Rich Man"

One of my favourite movies of all time is Fiddler on the Roof.  I always wanted to play Tevye in a stage production, throwing my hands in the air and singing, "If I were a rich man."  Most of us can identify with the dreams of the poor milkman, who yearns to be be wealthy--because he doesn't believe he has enough.  "One day, I'll have more," we say, "and things will be better then."

But how would it be, if we were simply graeful for what we had?

As God's people wandered in the desert, they dined on manna every day--food that they didn't have to work for, that miraculously appeared each morning.  Much like Bubba Gump's shrimp, they could have it any way they wanted it.  Mana burgers, boiled manna, stewed manna, manna creole, fried manna, steamed manna--the list goes on.  But they weren't content with the menu that God provided.  They began to sing, "If I were a rich man."  "If I only had more, I'd be able to do so much more!"  But, because they didn't have what they wanted, they grumbled until God gave them what they asked for.  Meat on the menu.  Quail came down from the heavens, blanketing the earth and providing so much meat that the people never wanted to see another squab kebab.  God taught them to be grateful by giving them too much of a good thing.

In the New Testament, Jesus tells the parable of a wealthy landowner who hired workers for his fields, some in the morning, some at midday, and some in the evening.  At the end of the day he paid them, and they were surprised that they each received a full day's wage.  Instead of being happy for those who received what seemed like charity, those who worked a full day grumbled at the unfairness of their pay.  What they probably failed to realize was that they were chosen in the morning due to their physical fitness to work a full day in the hot sun.  Those who were were hired in the evening were most likely disabled people waiting on the roadside for charity.  He hired them to spare their feelings by giving them the opportunity to do light work for a short time, for the same.  The employer decided to expect "from each, according to their ability," and pay "to each, according to their need."  But this seemed unfair to the more capable workers.  When they complained, their employer simply reminded them that it was his money, to give as he pleases.  Jesus told this story to illustrate that we don't always appreciate God's fairness, because our mindset has to do with merit, but God's big idea is grace.

Both of these stories focus on the ability to receive from God whatever blessings the Lord wants to provide, without grumbling that we don't have more.  Instead of singing Tevye's song, we might do better to live the apostle Paul's words to his young friend Timothy.  "Godliness with contentment is great gain (1 Tim 6.6)."  If you're curious what you'd do if you were rich, it's probably the same as you're doing now.  If you're stingy now, you'd probably hoard your wealth if you were rich.  If you're generous now with what you have, then if you were wealthy, you'd most likely be like the landowner who shared with those in need.  With contentment comes generosity, and the idea that people don't receive God's blessings because they deserve them, but because a gracious God wants to provide for people.

Today, I pray that you'll practice gratitude for the belessings you have received--not because you deserve them, but because God is good.  I pray, too, that you'll desire good things for others--not because they deserve them, but because a good God wants to provide for all.  And maybe ask yourself how you, who have been blessed, may share your manna, quail, and pay with those who are still waiting by the road.

Autopsy of a Christian Leader

Another Christian leader has fallen.  Some will condemn.  Others will defend.  Still more will celebrate.  What's the best way that believers can respond when we witness moral failures among our leaders--among our members?  

Certainly, appropriate measures must be taken.  Decisions must be made about this leader's career.  Firing or resignation is inevitible--but that's not the point.  I want to talk about the possible stance that the average Christian is going to have, when news like this comes out.

One position is to attack.  Attackers will spotlight hypocrisy, point fingers, and gloat.  They will celebrate the downfall.  Attackers will outline faults and flaws and failings, because they take joy in watching the demise of someone they dislike.

Another position is to defend.  Defenders can take several approaches.  Some will make excuses for their beloved leader, explaining why it's somebody else's fault.  Others will downplay the offense, using the passive voice and saying, "mistakes were made."  Still other defenders will employ the counter-attack, biting at liberals and secular society like a dog in a corner.  

But, what if, instead of attacking or defending, we simply did an autopsy?  What if we drew a chalk line around the body, examined the evidence, cut open the remains and tried to determine what caused the downfall?  There's a way to both respect the body on the one hand, while pulling out the entrails with the other, eager to find the cause without either condemning or defending the man.  This is the way of love.

Yes, in an odd way, it can be said that a medical examiner loves the person they are examining.  They treat the body with utmost care, not wanting to damage anything that mustn't be touched except for the sake of finding the truth.  They search out the facts of the case, not only so that justice can be done, but so that those who grieve might have answers.  And in the hopes of learning something so that such falls might be avoided in days to come.  

In the days following a Christian leader's moral failure, attackers and defenders line up and spit at each other across social and theological lines.  But perhaps there's a third way--neither one of making excuses nor derisive comments.  The third way is to treat the fallen with care, treat the situation as the grave thing that it is, and respectfully make the first incision.  Because you won't find anything worthwhile in snide remarks or useless defenses.  But finding the truth might just set us free--so that this can be laid to rest, and so that the things we learn from this might shape a better future.

*Photo credit: "autopsy tables" by reallyboring is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Tenderfooted, Tenderhearted People

It's summer--time for bare feet in the grass, on the sand, and soaking in the water.  But you don't want bare feet on gravel, hot pavement, or (for Die Hard fans) on broken glass.  Barefooting is great in certain situations, but not in others--because even folks with calloused feet hurt themselves from time to time.  

A tenderfoot is a person with unusually soft soles on their feet.  The term is also used to refer to a person who is new to a job or an organization.  It used to refer to people who were new to living on the frontier--city slickers who were used to wearing shoes all the time.  They would be called "tenderfoot" until they had literally developed callouses on their feet, or until they had become figuratively calloused to frontier life.

Today, I think a lot of people are tenderfooted when it comes to conversational skills.  It seems these days it's difficult to discuss things we hold dear, without being offended or hurting other people's feelings.  Recently, somebody commented to me about how we're taught not to discuss religion or politics--but what we really need to be taught is how to have a civil conversation.  We need to learn how to be sensitive to the feelings of others--and how not to have fragile feelings ourselves.

As we walk this earth, it's easy to get our feet cut by the sharp comments of others.  One solution would be to cover the whole earth in bubble wrap--but that could be suffocating, couldn't it?  Shantideva, the eighteenth century Indian scholar, said maybe you could cover the world with leather so that you could walk more safely.  But...

"Where would there be leather enough to cover the entire world? With just the leather of my sandals, it is as if the whole world were covered. Likewise, I am unable to restrain external phenomena, but I shall restrain my own mind. What need is there to restrain anything else?"

I can't cover the world--but I can cover my feet.  This means that while it's impossible to make the world a softer place, it is possible to protect my heart and mind.  What's the leather I can use to cover my tender feet?  It's called LOVE.  By putting on love, I can keep my tender heart safe, and protect others as well.  1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (NLT) says:

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.  Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. 

Love is a power that heals the cuts and bruises made by others.  It also guards your tender feet and heart so that you won't be so easily offended by people--because you'll be walking with them in Jesus' sandals instead of your own shoes.  No, you can't cover the world in leather so it won't cut you.  But when you cover yourself in love, God will give you angels to help you, "lest you dash your foot against a ston[y hearted person]."  This means you realize that you can't change the world, but you can change yourself.  You can't cover the world, but you can cover your heart and mind with love.  And by doing so, you'll be able to be tread lightly among tenderfooted people, and have your heart protected, at the same time.

Photo credit: "Bare feet" by zhang_yiwei is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Photo credit: "002-365 footwear" by cukuskumir is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

How to Have Conversations with Other Humans

During COVID-19, have you forgotten how to talk with other humans?  No, really--that's a serious question.  If you've been quarantining, working from home, unemployed, flattening the curve, and living inside your bubble, then chances are, you've had a smaller circle of people that you're talking with lately.  Social distancing isn't just staying six feet away--it's also keeping extended families apart, friends away, and made coworkers just another face on Zoom.  All this isolation can make you lose your "people skills."  Social media may be your primary form of communication these days.  And, based on the way folks interact on those platforms, it seems all our social skills have taken a nose-dive.

Add to that, the fact that it's election season for Americans.  This has increased tensions between friends and family members who may see things from different perspectives.  It seems that people have forgotten how to have civil disagreement these days.  So, maybe we need a refresher on how to have conversations with other humans.

Sometimes it's not WHAT is said, but HOW things are said that make the difference between a broken relationship and a healed one.  I'd never suggest that you abandon your cherished opinions, but perhaps with the right OARS, we can paddle through the rough waters of difficult conversations.

In William Miller and Stephen Rollnick's counseling technique called Motivational Interviewing, practitioners utilize four key skills, called OARS.  These OARS aren't just skills for counselors--they're just good communication skills for humans to have conversation with one another.  The acronym stands for Open-ended questions; Affirmations, Reflections, and Summaries.

Open-Ended Questions

Instead of asking "yes" or "no" questions that invite only a simple answer, try asking questions that really elicit a detailed response.  You'll learn more from the other person if you can get them talking.  You might try questions like:

• "Can you tell me about__________?"
• "What would it look like if _______?"
• "What do you think about_______?"

"Yes" or "no" questions can make people shut down instead of opening up.  A good conversationalist uses open-ended questions instead.

Affirmations

Affirmations are more than compliments--because they're true.  Affirmations are not flattery--they are observations and appreciations about a person or their perspective.  When you give someone an affirmation, it makes them feel built-up, and it encourages them to continue the conversation.  You might try:

• "You really seem to value ________."
• "You're really good at_________."
• "I'm impressed that you___________."

Everybody likes to talk with somebody who appreciates them.  Just make sure your affirmations are sincere, because flatter will get you nowhere in a genuine conversation.

Reflections

People want to know that they're heard.  And you need to know that you're hearing them correctly.  If you didn't understand them, you want to know that, too, so that they can clarify anything you misunderstood. You might use phrases like...

• "It sounds like you're saying_________."
• "It seems like____________."
• "If I'm hearing you right, _______________."

When you reflect back to somebody what you think you're hearing, you can make sure that you understand them.  They can also know that they're being heard.  And people who feel heard want to keep on talking.

Summaries

Whether it's at the end of a conversation, or at a turning point in a conversation, it's useful to summarize what someone has been talking about.  Summaries are kind of like reflections, but they are geared toward what comes next.  They make good transitions--either shifting toward the end of the conversation or moving to a different topic.  Summaries look like:

• "We've talked about ____.  What else is important to you?"
• "From our conversation, I've learned ____ and ____."
• "I'm glad we've established________."

Summaries help you maintain your focus in a conversation.  An unfocused chat may be fine sometimes, but true understanding takes intention.

In times like these, when isolation makes you lose your "people skills" or when political tensions threaten the loss of friendships, it's important to practice good conversational skills.  Talking is more than just speaking--it's listening.  It's asking good questions.  It's paddling skillfully through an interaction so that you enjoy the journey, see the scenery of another person's soul, and hopefully come to understanding.  


Photo credit 1:  "Talking on the edge in Zurich"by Alexandre Dulaunoy is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

Photo crecit 2: "Paddle" by ArnelGenterone is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Blessed are the Pacifiers?

If you're readying this, then by now you should have outgrown pacifiers.  Everybody knows it's bad for your teeth, and I cringe every time I see a full-fledged child (not a baby) with a pacifier in their mouth.  And, did you know that you can buy adult-sized pacifiers on Amazon?  What is this world coming to?

When Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers," he didn't mean pacifiers.  Yes, it's true that both of these words stem from the Latin word pax, meaning "peace."  But there's a vast difference between the two.  When he said this, he knew that his listeners lived under the Pax Romana (Peace of Rome), a system of oppression that brought about peace through domination and oppression.  So he had to make sure his hearers understood the difference beween people who make peace, and people who are pacified, or who pacify other folks.

A pacifier is something you give a baby, in order to keep them from crying.  You're "peacifying" them for your own good, so you don't have to hear them scream.  In this sense, it's not really peace at all--but simply the absence of noise.  A pacifier is something you give a hurting or hungry baby--to shut them up.  My Scottish foster sister used to call a pacifier a "dummy-tit," which is a nipple for dummies who don't know the difference between a piece of plastic and the real thing.

Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers," and that's a different thing altogether.  Peacemakers are NOT pacifiers.  They don't throw out platitudes to keep people happy.  Instead of saying, "Can't we all just get along?" real peacemakers do the hard work of actually listening to the cries of their hurting neighbors.  Instead of saying, "You're hurting?  I'm hurting too--let me tell you about my pain..." (a tactic designed to shut the other person up), real peacemakers simply sit and listen.  Whether they agree with the story that the other person tells or not, they make sure that the really hear their neighbor, and make sure that their neighbor knows they're heard.

I've gotta admit--pacifiers are easy.  When I was raising babies, I gave them all pacifiers.  But pacifiers are something we should outgrow.  Once a kid is old enough to talk, the pacifier should come out of their mouth.  Kids need to quit using them--and adults need to quit trying to give them to young people who are fully capable of conversation.  Because real dialogue is better than a pacifier.

Are you having trouble in your marriage, and this message is hitting home because you realize you've been a pacifier instead of a peacemaker?  Have you been troubled by racial injustice, but you've been unable to really deal with the seismic weight of actually dealing with it--so you've been saying "all lives matter" rather than sitting down to listen to stories of black pain?  Have you been changing the topic every time a friend brings up a difficult conversation, because you just don't want to deal with it?  Jesus blessed the peacemakers because their courage to have a conversation leads to the kingdom of God manifesting in the lives of hurting and hungry people.  I hope you'll have the guts to be a peacemaker, rather than a pacifier--that you'll take the time to listen.

Songs that Shaped Me: "Make Mea a Channel of Your Peace"

Probably my greatest hero is St. Francis of Assisi.  The son of a welthy merchant, he abandoned his privilege to embrace the underprivileged of society.  He embraced the preople that others believed were the most untouchable, and loved those deemed the most unloveable.  The little friar of Assisi has been called the most Jesus-like of all the Catholic saints.  The famous Prayer of St. Francis (which may have been written by a follower instead of by Frandis himself) illustrates the gentle and humble spirit of the man:

Lord make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

And where there is sadness, joy.

O divine master grant that I may

Not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved as to love

For it is in giving that we receive-

And it's in pardoning that we are pardoned.

And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

This prayer has been a go-to for me when I find myself in emotionally trying times.  I've found it particularly helpful when I've dealt with people who are unloveable or difficult, or those who tend to bring out the worst in my own personality.  Sometimes (gasp!) I can be impatient and self-centered, prone to anger when challenging people knock me off my emotional balance.   When I'm in a situation like this, I'll step aside and quietly pray this prayer.  Or I'll pray it when I know I'm about to deal with a difficult person.  

This prayer is unique because instead of praying FOR peace, it asks the pray-er to BECOME peace, or at least to become an intrument of peace.  It takes the focus off of me and helps me to put the focus on the other person, so that I'm more interested in them than I am in myself.  

In Martin Buber's book I Thou, the Jewish philosopher and theologian talks about treating people as people, rather than treating them as objects like we so often do.  Instead of engaging people in "I-It" relationships, Buber recommends treating people "I-Thou."  To me, the Prayer of St. Francis inspires this kind of interaction.

One of my favorite songs, "Make Me a Channel of Your Peace,"  was written by Sebastien Temple in 1967.  Based on the Prayer of St. Francis, it inspires me to not just hope for peace, or even to work for peae, but to literally become a channel of God's peace.  I offer it to you today, and hope you'll be a channel of peace, too.

Songs that Shaped Me: "The Summons"

So the story goes, no sooner had my parents arrived home from their honeymoon, than the draft notice was on the door.  Dad was going to Vietnam.  When he received his summons, he had to go.  Acccording to History.com, conscription of soldiers goes back thousands of years, and provisions for the draft were made under the Code of Hammurabi, in ancient Babylon.  When you receive the summons, you have to go.

On the first day of seminary, students went around the room, telling the story of their call to ministry.  Most pastors have a "call story," about how they felt that God summoned them into church work.  Some told about being the children or grandchildren of pastors, and how ministry "ran in the family."  Others said that the idea of being a pastor completely blindsided them--that they felt like their were drafted against their will.  However we came to ministry, all of us felt called--summoned by God.  When I went to seminary in 1994, The Summons was still a new song (by church standards, anyway).  Its words made a huge difference in my understanding of calling.  The lyrics seem to come from the heart of Jesus himself. 

As a pastor, I received these words as my charter for ministry.  So much that I made the song a key feature of more than one installation service at churches that I served.  The summons remains--to go where I don't know, to let Christ's love be shown, and to grow in Him.  To leave my self (ego) behind in order to care for both cruel and kind people, to risk the hostile stare for the sake of love.  I received the summons, like my hero St. Francis, to kiss the leper clean--along with everyone who's on the fringe of society for one reason or another.  Since Jesus said to "love your neighbor as yourself," this also means loving who I am.  So self-exploration, self-knowledge, and self-love are important in order to do ministry.  Not a love of ego--but the kind of self-assurance that allows me to reach out to others for their good, even when I risk getting my hand smacked for it.  The summons of Christ calls me to use the faith I've found to reshape the world around.  This is the essence of ministry--to not leave the world the way I found it, but to make it better.  This applied to church ministry, and to the social work that I do today.

This summons is not just for me, or for pastors in general--it's a draft notice for all believers.  You've been chosen, selected especially to be who you are--to show love to a broken world and re-form it by the power of love.  If you're a Christian, I pray that the words of The Summons will resonate in your heart, and become your charter as well.  If you're not a Christian, then you could hear these words from the voice of Love, as if Love were specifcally calling you to follow (because I believe Love does).

 

Will you come and follow me

If I but call your name?

Will you go where you don't know

And never be the same?

Will you let my love be shown,

Will you let my name be known,

Will you let my life be grown

In you and you in me?

Will you leave yourself behind

If I but call your name?

Will you care for cruel and kind

And never be the same?

Will you risk the hostile stare

Should your life attract or scare?

Will you let me answer prayer

In you and you in me?

Will you let the blinded see

If I but call your name?

Will you set the prisoners free

And never be the same?

Will you kiss the leper clean,

And do such as this unseen,

And admit to what I mean

In you and you in me?

Will you love the 'you' you hide

If I but call your name?

Will you quell the fear inside

And never be the same?

Will you use the faith you've found

To reshape the world around,

Through my sight and touch and sound

In you and you in me?

Lord, your summons echoes true

When you but call my name.

Let me turn and follow you

And never be the same.

In your company I'll go

Where your love and footsteps show.

Thus I'll move and live and grow

In you and you in me.

Copyright: 

Words: 1987 WGRG, Iona Community, Glasgow, Scotland, G2 3DH (Admin. by Wild Goose Resource Group), Music: David Peacock - The Jubilate Group (Admin. by Hope Publishing Company)

Songs that Shaped Me - "Who Killed Davey Moore?"

I was pretty young when I realized that I had blood on my hands.  I learned that lesson from listening to Pete Seeger's version of Bob Dylan's song, "Who Killed Davey Moore?"  The song is about an American boxer named Davey Moore, aka "The Little Giant" because he was only five feet, two inches tall.  On March 21, 1963, Moore fought cuban boxer Sugar Ramos.  After losing the bout, he conducted post-fight interviews.  Later that evening, he complained of headaches, passed out, and died four days later.  (Click here to learn more).

You can watch the fight footage, hear the song, and read the lyrics in the following video.  At 2:36, you can see where Moore falls after hitting the base of his skull on the rope.

In Dylan's song, the referee says he's not to blame for Moore's death.  If he'd stopped the fight before its end, the crowd would have booed.  The crowd says it's not their fault--they just came to see a good fight.  The manager denies blame, stating that if Moore was sick, he should have said.  One by one, the gambling man, the sports writer, and Moore's opponent Ramos deny culpability.  Dylan ends the song with the question, "Who killed Davey Moore?  How come he died, and what's the reason for?"  

By ending with a question, Dylan leaves us, the listeners, to ponder the answer.  When we listen closely, we hear the singer's message: Yes, we all killed Davey Moore.  Not one of us is innocent--we all have blood on our hands.  We're part of a system that glorifies violence, and pays a premium to promote people's pain.  The referees among us who might stop the fight, think instead about the disapproval of the bloodthirsty crowd.  Those whose job it is to promote the violence seem to thrive off its proliferation.  The media benefits from sensational stories.  And we the people--we just came to see some sweat.  Yes, we are the crowd. We are the manager.  We are the writer.  We are the opponent.  So when Dylan asks his question, he leaves us to say, "Maybe it's me?"  This song shaped me at a young age, because it made me realize that my hands aren't as clean as I think they are.

When Jesus told his disciples that one of them was going to betray him to death, they asked the same question.  "Lord, is it I?  Maybe it's me--am I the one?"  Instead of pointing fingers to find someone else who's more to blame, they each had the wisdom to ask what part they might have to play in such violence.  Maybe it's time for us to do the same.

In this violent world we're a part of, it's easy to say, "It's not my fault--it must be yours."  We point to unjust lawmakers, crooked cops, biased media, or politicians who try to use conflict to their own advantage.  And maybe they share some of the blame.  But what if we did the harder thing and asked, "Lord, is it I?"  What if, instead of trying to take the splinter out of our brother's eye, we pried the log out of our own eye first?  What if we realized we're all part of a system, a society, that's sick, and that we all have blood on our hands?  What if we all were honest and said, "I killed Davey Moore."  And then what if we had the courage to change--ourselves and the system--so nobody like him would need to die again?

Songs that Shaped Me - "We Shall Overcome"

In times like these, we need a song.  A song to unite those who believe in equity, justice, liberation, and freedom for all people.  But not just any song.  We need a song that unites not only those who labor today, but a song that reminds us that we stand arm in arm with co-laborers from every generation that has spoken out against oppression.  So, the song we need isn't today's song, but one from generations past.

In this series, "Songs that Shaped Me," I'm sharing music that not only made a difference in my life, but songs that might shape you, too.  Let's hear Pete Seeger as he sings:

"We Shall Overcome" is a song for all who are peacefully protesting against police brutality and against systemic racism on all levels.  It is a song for Pride Month, inspiring people to join hands be proud of themselves, their friends, their family members who no longer need to remain in closets in order to be safe.  "We Shall Overcome" is a song for all who hope for a more loving, more welcome, more affirming world.  It's a song that shaped me.  If you're younger, maybe this song is new to you.  If you're older, it might take you back to different times, when we were passionate about equality.  It's a song of peaceful protest, not a song of violence.  It's a song that recognizes history's hurts and today's trouble, and looks forward to the promise of peace.

Songs that Shaped Me: "When Christians Sing That Nazi Song"

Did you ever go to church and hear a Nazi song in the worship service?  Yeah--me neither.  Or, at least, I never thought of it as a Nazi song when I was a kid.  But when I was a teenager, I was surprised to find that one of my most beloved hymns was also the national anthem of the Third Reich. Maybe you've sung this song as well... 

Yes, "We are Called to Be God's People" is one of the songs that shaped me as a child, for two reasons.  First, it is a musically amazing Austrian hymn by Franz Joseph Haydn.  The English lyrics by Thomas Jackson inspire Christians to understand their calling to live in unity, share hope, to work for God's glory, and shed light in the world. 

We are called to be God's people
Showing by our lives His grace
One in heart and one in spirit
Sign of hope for all the race
Let us show how He has changed us
And remade us as His own
Let us share our life together
As we shall around His throne

We are called to be God's servants
Working in His world today
Taking His own task upon us
All His sacred words obey
Let us rise then to His summons
Dedicate to Him our all
That we may be faithful servants
Quick to answer now His call

We are called to be God's prophets
Speaking for the truth and right
Standing firm for godly justice
Bringing evil into light
Let us seek the courage needed
Our high calling to fulfill
That we all may know the blessing
Of the doing of God's will

I absolutely loved singing this song in church on Sundays.  Its message genuinely shaped the way I view our calling as Christians.  But this song shaped me in another, more painful way as well.  Back in the mid to late 1980s, a dear old lady named Vida Savkovich, had a terrible time whenever we sang my favorite hymn.  She told our pastor that if we continued to sing it, she would have to leave the church.  That's because every time we sang it, her PTSD kicked in and she was a child watching Hitler's tanks roll through her country.  Yes, I found that one of my favorite hymns was also the Nazi national anthem.  Its opening words say, "Deutschland, Deutschland, over everything / Over every other land," and Vida was retraumatized every time she heard it.  Thanksfully, our pastor and music minister listened to her plea, and struck the song from our church's repertoire.  

Think my church's leadership overreacted?  That they made too bit a deal of her pain?  Listen to what this German vlogger has to say:

So even Germans (who have some sense) say you should avoid the first verse of that song, out of respect to others and out of a desire NOT to bring up painful feelings.

"We Are Called to Be God's People" is a song that shaped me in two ways.  First, it helped me to understand our calling as the people of God.  Second our congregational experience of the song taught me to be sensitive to the feelings of others, who may be offended by something that I might view as perfectly wholesome, beautiful, and theologically correct.  It taught me that just because something is right, that doesn't make it good.

Vida's story has impacted the way, as a pastor, I have tried to deal with other songs that involve hints of racism, traces of emperialism and violence, or sexist language.  This song that shaped me also made me aware of how much our musical choices affect young and old people who hear them.  It's important that the church listen to the theology in its music, and make sure it's communicating truth.  We need to be aware of the subtle social messages that are coming through in our hymnody and worship music.  And we need to be brave enough to ditch the songs that need to be cut.

Songs That Shaped Me: "By Our Love"

If you grew up in church, you might not remember the sermons you've heard through the years, but you sure remember the music.  Thisis because the message comes through meter and rhyme, rhythm and repetition.  And it's likely that you hear each sermon only once, but you'll hear the same church music for years.  Because of this, the songs we sing in church tend to sharpe us as much as, if not more than, the Sunday school lessons or sermons that are preached.  This is why I've always tried to make sure that the songs we sang in the churches I served, reflected good theology.  

Unfortunately, many Christian songs have some poor messages that we keep repeating each time we sing them in church.  I've butted heads with some good music directors in churches, over their insinstence upon singing bad songs just because "the people love them."  I've tried to explain that the songs we sing shape our outlook on life--for good or for evil.  And even the songs we sing in church can have a bad effect on us, so "be careful, little ears, what you hear."

I've decided to take a few blog posts to talk about the songs that shaped me--some for the better, and some for the worse.  Some you might know, and others you may not recognize.  They are defintely all throwbacks.  The first is an idealized vision of what the Church is supposed to be--and for this reason, it may have made me somewhat of an idealist in my own view of the Church.  They'll Know We are Christians was written in the 1960s, so you know that when I heard it in the 1970s and 1980s, it was still considered new, by church standards.  I'll share with you a more updated version, "By Our Love," by For King and Country:



These lyrics, by Fr. Peter Scholtes, communicate the ethos of what the early church intended--unity and love.  In fact, they quote John 13:35, which says that love should be the distinguishing characteristic of believers.  The world will know that we are disciples of Jesus by the love we share.    No, it's not the crosses around our necks or the Bibles that we carry.  It's not the steeples on our churches or the multi-million-dollar TV shows.  The world will know we are Christians by our love.  Sound idealistic?  Jesus didn't think so.  And it's this simple, idealistic, message that shaped the way I saw the church as a child.

Perhaps this is something the Church needs to regain--unity in the Spirit.  We need to remember that unity does not equal conformity.  It doesn't even mean agreement.  Look, we are never going to agree on everything--maybe especially not on the hot button issues.  But when we can learn to live in unity despite our differences, they'll know we are Christians by our love.  Not by our insistence that we have the right interpretation of scripture,  not by our adherence to the strictest of moral laws, and not by the way we worship.  When we live in unity with one another, and embracing the world Jesus died for, they'll know we are Christians by our love.  

"I'm broken. The church is broken. And that's beautiful."

"I'm broken.  The church is broken.  And that's beautiful."  That was my answer when someone asked me what I'd say if I ever interviewed for a pastoral position again.  Now, I'm not saying that I will, and I'm not saying that I won't, ever pastor a church again--that's up to God.  I'll just say yes to whatever God directs.  But when the question came to me, how I might represent myself or communicate my vision for the (universal) Church, I answered in terms of brokenness.

You see, I come from a broken home--two times over.  My parents didn't divorce til I was grown, but it profoundly impacted me as a young adult.  My first marriage lasted almost a quarter century, leaving many blessings but also some damage to my heart, to hers, and to our children.  But God specializes in restoring things that are broken.  People who are broken, too.  But God restores us beyond that which was fractured, and gives new purpose to our shards.

Kintsukuroi is the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold or silver lacquer.  This serves as a metaphor for the way that pain, grief, and trauma can transform us into something beautiful.  It reminds us that our brokenness, our scars, can become things of beauty.  My life is Kintsukuroi. 

Now, I don't claim that I have been restored.  Instead, I'm proud to say that I'm broken.  But I'm being renewed day by day.  God has forgiven my failures, is putting me back together, and constantly restores my life, my love, and my livelihood.  God has brought me together with my amazing new bride, given me a new home, a new country, and a renewed purpose.  I can't say whether I'll ever stand in a pulpit again--but when somebody asked me how I'd express myself to  the Church, I'd say that I'm broken, and that's beautiful.

I'd also tell any individual congregation that it, too, is broken.  Because the Church (universal) is made up of damaged people who are all in the process of being restored, individual churches too are comprised of messed-up people.  They're led by messed-up people.  And they serve messed-up people.  If I ever stood before a church again, I'd tell them not to forget that they're all broken.  And that when they engage the world, they shouldn't do so from a position that says, "We've got it together, and we want to help the damaged people to be like us."  Instead, the church needs to embrace its Kintsukuroi-ness, and understand that broken is beautiful.  We're all damaged--and God is putting us back together.  The Church can only get real with the world when it gets real with itself.  Because the broken world will never be attracted by a pristine church.  Only a damaged Church will do.