"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)