Back Again...with some Writing
Here's the little talk I wrote for my church's Lenten luncheon series. Hope you enjoy it!
We’re roughly mid-way through the Lenten season now…so in my mind that means we’re at a crossroads on our cross roads.
That virtual lifesaver, dictionary.com, defines crossroads as “the area or the point at which two or more roads cross each other” and “the point at which an important choice has to be made.” During this Lenten season, when we talk about journeys, it seems that we’re always at a crossroads on our cross roads-the road that we’re walking toward Jerusalem with Jesus.
What kind of roads cross each other? We have the real roads we travel on, which take us to work, back home, to our places of worship, to our friends’ homes, to events around the city, to the airport or train station if we’re leaving town.
Well, of course, you might say…real roads always cross other roads, so that’s hardly a spiritually enlightening concept. But what choices do we make about the way we travel on those roads? Do we travel down the work road, the home road, the worship road, the friend road as our authentic selves, or do we travel with a mask of sorts? What does it say about us that we often disguise part of ourselves depending on our destination? The choices we make, whether in our thoughts, words or actions-as individuals, as family members, as friends, as colleagues, as Christians, as Church-speak clearly about our spiritual journeys.
Before we begin to beat ourselves up too vigorously, let’s stop at that crossroads and remember what Jesus’ disciples were like. True enough, they were quick to step away from their families and jobs as fishermen, in the cases of Peter, James and John, or the life of a tax collector, as Matthew did. That stepping away, as dramatic as it seems to us, was merely the beginning of their journey with Jesus.
Did the disciples stay true to their mission? Hardly…and that offers hope for us all. Peter, one of my personal favorites for his impetuous nature, is quick to jump out of the boat when he sees Jesus coming to him on the water; he does pretty well at first, but then-and I can picture this whenever I read or hear this passage-he does the quintessential double take, realizing his feet are not on solid ground, the wind is whipping the water into waves, and he screams out for Jesus to save him! Peter also is quick to insist to Jesus that crucifixion cannot be part of God’s plan, which causes Jesus to identify Peter as “Satan.” And-you guessed it-Peter denies knowing Jesus during his trial---not once, not twice, but three times.
Peter isn’t by himself in missing the point-James and John jockey for position to sit at Jesus’ right and left hands; none of the disciples can bring themselves to see how 4000 people can be fed with table scraps, and the idea of forgiving someone 7 times (much less 70 x 7) doesn’t register too well with them either.
Like the disciples, we too have begun to journey with Jesus. But what marks the beginning of our journeys? In this season of Lent, particularly, what have we stepped away from to mark our starting point on our cross roads trek? Perhaps we’ve stepped away from things that give us pleasure: chocolate, the evening glass of liquid sustenance, our favorite virtual timewaster (Facebook, Twitter, online games); or have we stepped away from the behaviors that cause us to be less than authentic, to seek out a deeper relationship with the one we call Savior?
Are we addicted to trying to please everyone, by trying to be all things to all people? The arrogance of that concept is often disguised in the form of volunteering for everything that comes along, accompanied by statements such as “I just want to help” or “I’ll do whatever I can--you can call on me anytime.” Yes, noble ideas, but often lurking beneath the surface is the desire to be seen and known as the “go-to” person, the dependable one, the person who lives their life primarily for others, and coincidentally always seems to be at the center of their own little universe.
Do we believe in the Letter or the Spirit of the Law? Dotting every “i” and crossing every “t” makes for a very neat paper, but the neatest penmanship can’t conceal empty words, devoid of passion and compassion.
Is it more important for us to be “right” or to be open to the voices of the “other” that so often get shut down? Oh, how we love to prove ourselves right…my mother used to say that I should have been an attorney, because I loved to argue/debate. Maybe that’s one reason I like trivia as much as I do. (true confession time). But how gratifying it is to know (at least in our own minds) that we were right…think how many times we say “I told you so.”
Do we, as the Church, place Church rules, which, in all honesty, are human rules, above God’s rules? How do we use the Church’s rules…as a blunt object to force blind obedience to a lockstep discipline, or as a reflective prism, allowing the light of God to shine through and lead people to a deeper relationship with God and each other?
What about judgment and mercy? Jesus preaches mercy to his followers, to the religious power structure of his day, and if we only stop and take his words seriously, to us. We’re good at rationalizing judgment-“I’m telling you this for your own good.” But when the judgment process stops with the telling, it’s as sterile and sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel. Only when we pass beyond judgment and move into some action that brings us in contact with the person in a very real human way are we being agents of mercy. What does mercy look like? A hug, a phone call, an invitation, the gift of presence-all those are ways we show mercy.
We are mercy when we have patience with others. I struggle with this a lot…there are times when I’m completely wrapped up in what I’m doing (often working on multiple projects or tasks) and someone comes up with a question, or needs to talk, and my patience snaps, followed by an abrupt comment or a huff. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in that, either…but it’s another reminder that, in this day when everything in man’s chronos time seems to be a crisis that must be managed immediately, God’s kairos time tells us to slow down and really listen. I never get the feeling that Jesus ran from place to place, encounter to encounter, with a disciple following him keeping a tally sheet of the # of people healed on each day (a la McDonald’s and its xxx billion served!); Jesus took the time to get away from the pressures of his ministry when they mounted up on him…and we need to humble ourselves enough to do the same thing.
As we come to a crossroads on our Lenten journeys, we’re blessed with examples from our tradition of those who made the wise choice…and often, those were the “other”. Consider the Gerasene demoniac-healed by Jesus early in his ministry, he begged Jesus for the privilege to be one of his disciples. While this didn’t happen, the man went about proclaiming what Jesus had done for him to everyone whom he met. What an example for us! Do we proclaim God’s grace in the blessings we’ve experienced? Or are we reluctant to give God any credit? Does our ego insist that we take the complete credit for the good things that have happened to us? Has there been a time when you were blessed in a completely unexpected way? Did you thank God for that blessing? Too often, God gets left out of our thanksgivings, as if God had nothing to do with the good things for which we’re thankful.
The woman with the hemorrhage makes a profound statement of faith-“I will be made well.” And she was. Healing comes in many ways…the night before my mother died, I remember sitting with her on the side of the bed in her room, while she ate some chicken noodle soup. She looked at me with her beautiful smile and said “This is so good!” A statement of faith? I think so…she was in her home, where she wanted to be, where her memories of life in our country had all been formed, where she and my father had made a wonderful happy home for me. My mother, a woman of profound faith, was making a faith statement about what I believe she knew was coming, and who was with her.
How do we carry our crosses on our cross roads? Do we carry them resentfully, angry that some people seem to have much lighter crosses than we do? Do we carry them proudly, as some perverted merit badge of martyrdom? Do we carry them reluctantly, hoping that someone will come along and rescue us, often from ourselves? Or do we carry them faithfully, trusting that we are never alone on the journey? Do we carry them humbly, realizing that as Christians we are called to pick up our cross and by doing so, we are following Christ’s example? Do we carry them gratefully, rejoicing in the presence of God and our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ which help us bear the burden? And are we willing to, without being asked, lend our strength to help someone else carry their cross?
We’re blessed to live on this side of the cross and tomb-we know how the Lenten journey ends, but while we’re walking it now in Lent 2013, may our prayer be:
“Lord, when I am drowsy with the drug of self, wake me, lead me on
When I am imprisoned by the things of this world, may your spirit release me;
When I am more concerned with myself than with those I have been given to love, save me from myself,
That I might live to explore the heart of love, where riches and wealth are measured by truth and compassion,
Where the journey never ends but endlessly delights,
Where being lost in love the treasure of life is found.
We’re roughly mid-way through the Lenten season now…so in my mind that means we’re at a crossroads on our cross roads.
That virtual lifesaver, dictionary.com, defines crossroads as “the area or the point at which two or more roads cross each other” and “the point at which an important choice has to be made.” During this Lenten season, when we talk about journeys, it seems that we’re always at a crossroads on our cross roads-the road that we’re walking toward Jerusalem with Jesus.
What kind of roads cross each other? We have the real roads we travel on, which take us to work, back home, to our places of worship, to our friends’ homes, to events around the city, to the airport or train station if we’re leaving town.
Well, of course, you might say…real roads always cross other roads, so that’s hardly a spiritually enlightening concept. But what choices do we make about the way we travel on those roads? Do we travel down the work road, the home road, the worship road, the friend road as our authentic selves, or do we travel with a mask of sorts? What does it say about us that we often disguise part of ourselves depending on our destination? The choices we make, whether in our thoughts, words or actions-as individuals, as family members, as friends, as colleagues, as Christians, as Church-speak clearly about our spiritual journeys.
Before we begin to beat ourselves up too vigorously, let’s stop at that crossroads and remember what Jesus’ disciples were like. True enough, they were quick to step away from their families and jobs as fishermen, in the cases of Peter, James and John, or the life of a tax collector, as Matthew did. That stepping away, as dramatic as it seems to us, was merely the beginning of their journey with Jesus.
Did the disciples stay true to their mission? Hardly…and that offers hope for us all. Peter, one of my personal favorites for his impetuous nature, is quick to jump out of the boat when he sees Jesus coming to him on the water; he does pretty well at first, but then-and I can picture this whenever I read or hear this passage-he does the quintessential double take, realizing his feet are not on solid ground, the wind is whipping the water into waves, and he screams out for Jesus to save him! Peter also is quick to insist to Jesus that crucifixion cannot be part of God’s plan, which causes Jesus to identify Peter as “Satan.” And-you guessed it-Peter denies knowing Jesus during his trial---not once, not twice, but three times.
Peter isn’t by himself in missing the point-James and John jockey for position to sit at Jesus’ right and left hands; none of the disciples can bring themselves to see how 4000 people can be fed with table scraps, and the idea of forgiving someone 7 times (much less 70 x 7) doesn’t register too well with them either.
Like the disciples, we too have begun to journey with Jesus. But what marks the beginning of our journeys? In this season of Lent, particularly, what have we stepped away from to mark our starting point on our cross roads trek? Perhaps we’ve stepped away from things that give us pleasure: chocolate, the evening glass of liquid sustenance, our favorite virtual timewaster (Facebook, Twitter, online games); or have we stepped away from the behaviors that cause us to be less than authentic, to seek out a deeper relationship with the one we call Savior?
Are we addicted to trying to please everyone, by trying to be all things to all people? The arrogance of that concept is often disguised in the form of volunteering for everything that comes along, accompanied by statements such as “I just want to help” or “I’ll do whatever I can--you can call on me anytime.” Yes, noble ideas, but often lurking beneath the surface is the desire to be seen and known as the “go-to” person, the dependable one, the person who lives their life primarily for others, and coincidentally always seems to be at the center of their own little universe.
Do we believe in the Letter or the Spirit of the Law? Dotting every “i” and crossing every “t” makes for a very neat paper, but the neatest penmanship can’t conceal empty words, devoid of passion and compassion.
Is it more important for us to be “right” or to be open to the voices of the “other” that so often get shut down? Oh, how we love to prove ourselves right…my mother used to say that I should have been an attorney, because I loved to argue/debate. Maybe that’s one reason I like trivia as much as I do. (true confession time). But how gratifying it is to know (at least in our own minds) that we were right…think how many times we say “I told you so.”
Do we, as the Church, place Church rules, which, in all honesty, are human rules, above God’s rules? How do we use the Church’s rules…as a blunt object to force blind obedience to a lockstep discipline, or as a reflective prism, allowing the light of God to shine through and lead people to a deeper relationship with God and each other?
What about judgment and mercy? Jesus preaches mercy to his followers, to the religious power structure of his day, and if we only stop and take his words seriously, to us. We’re good at rationalizing judgment-“I’m telling you this for your own good.” But when the judgment process stops with the telling, it’s as sterile and sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel. Only when we pass beyond judgment and move into some action that brings us in contact with the person in a very real human way are we being agents of mercy. What does mercy look like? A hug, a phone call, an invitation, the gift of presence-all those are ways we show mercy.
We are mercy when we have patience with others. I struggle with this a lot…there are times when I’m completely wrapped up in what I’m doing (often working on multiple projects or tasks) and someone comes up with a question, or needs to talk, and my patience snaps, followed by an abrupt comment or a huff. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in that, either…but it’s another reminder that, in this day when everything in man’s chronos time seems to be a crisis that must be managed immediately, God’s kairos time tells us to slow down and really listen. I never get the feeling that Jesus ran from place to place, encounter to encounter, with a disciple following him keeping a tally sheet of the # of people healed on each day (a la McDonald’s and its xxx billion served!); Jesus took the time to get away from the pressures of his ministry when they mounted up on him…and we need to humble ourselves enough to do the same thing.
As we come to a crossroads on our Lenten journeys, we’re blessed with examples from our tradition of those who made the wise choice…and often, those were the “other”. Consider the Gerasene demoniac-healed by Jesus early in his ministry, he begged Jesus for the privilege to be one of his disciples. While this didn’t happen, the man went about proclaiming what Jesus had done for him to everyone whom he met. What an example for us! Do we proclaim God’s grace in the blessings we’ve experienced? Or are we reluctant to give God any credit? Does our ego insist that we take the complete credit for the good things that have happened to us? Has there been a time when you were blessed in a completely unexpected way? Did you thank God for that blessing? Too often, God gets left out of our thanksgivings, as if God had nothing to do with the good things for which we’re thankful.
The woman with the hemorrhage makes a profound statement of faith-“I will be made well.” And she was. Healing comes in many ways…the night before my mother died, I remember sitting with her on the side of the bed in her room, while she ate some chicken noodle soup. She looked at me with her beautiful smile and said “This is so good!” A statement of faith? I think so…she was in her home, where she wanted to be, where her memories of life in our country had all been formed, where she and my father had made a wonderful happy home for me. My mother, a woman of profound faith, was making a faith statement about what I believe she knew was coming, and who was with her.
How do we carry our crosses on our cross roads? Do we carry them resentfully, angry that some people seem to have much lighter crosses than we do? Do we carry them proudly, as some perverted merit badge of martyrdom? Do we carry them reluctantly, hoping that someone will come along and rescue us, often from ourselves? Or do we carry them faithfully, trusting that we are never alone on the journey? Do we carry them humbly, realizing that as Christians we are called to pick up our cross and by doing so, we are following Christ’s example? Do we carry them gratefully, rejoicing in the presence of God and our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ which help us bear the burden? And are we willing to, without being asked, lend our strength to help someone else carry their cross?
We’re blessed to live on this side of the cross and tomb-we know how the Lenten journey ends, but while we’re walking it now in Lent 2013, may our prayer be:
“Lord, when I am drowsy with the drug of self, wake me, lead me on
When I am imprisoned by the things of this world, may your spirit release me;
When I am more concerned with myself than with those I have been given to love, save me from myself,
That I might live to explore the heart of love, where riches and wealth are measured by truth and compassion,
Where the journey never ends but endlessly delights,
Where being lost in love the treasure of life is found.