Miles To Go

Did you miss designer Jenna Lyons, appearance in J. Crew’s online catalogue last week? She playful painted her young son’s toenails pink to the horror of many. Of course this set off a firestorm of reactions concerning gender identity.

This (pro-Lyons) argument struck me as odd: “It’s not a big deal. If a dad puts a baseball cap on his daughter, no one cares.” I don’t think that comparison is legitimate. Baseball caps have become acceptable unisex attire. Most clothing has.

That got me thinking - is there a legitimate comparison? Painting toenails pink is distinctly for girls. Is there a parallel, something distinctly for boys?

It seems that everything that used to be considered male is now gender neutral. (I am not lamenting this, just observing.) The concept of gender distinctions is almost extinct.

Am I a dinosaur for even entertaining these thoughts? Does this conversation take us down the path of pining for the ways of the past? That would be futile. The past is gone and we can’t go back. Like America has become post-Christian (that’s another post) we have probably become post gender-distinctive.

Questions – are gender distinctions good for anything but punch lines? Is the qualitatively distinct male endangered or extinct? And is this something to celebrate or regret?

“Guess what I’m giving up for Lent?”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What are you giving up?”

“Being Catholic.”

My friend would be mortified if I identified him, so I’ll just call him James (a pseudonym). He’s had a rough year and doesn’t feel like sacrifice is a heartfelt response to this season. Honestly, James feels he’s made some involuntary sacrifices this year already, so purposefully giving up more is not on his to-do list.

Oh, and James is not really leaving his church.

For those who chose to abstain, we are on day five. The half-hearted have already been weeded out by a weekend of desire and intemperance. The rest may self-righteously look down their noses on those who failed as we walk by the chocolate isle, turn off the television, or give up the daily latte. Isn’t spiritual disciple really about feeling superior to others?

All of these sacrifices seem shallow in comparison to the sacrifice of Christ. But what do you expect? Shall we subject ourselves to torture like some of our Filipino brothers in an ascetic attempt to identify with Christ? No, we cannot match Jesus’ sacrifice. So why try?

My advice is not to try. Don’t give up something to identify with Christ’s sacrifice. Practice the discipline of sacrifice like the ancients did. They fasted AND prayed. Something is given up and something else replaces it. Jesus said in John 4 that evangelism is better than food. Biblically, abstention was coupled with a proactive discipline.

So if your Netflix account goes dark for forty days, take some of that free time to pray, or serve, or give, or meditate on something or Someone bigger than yourself. If you find yourself missing that morning Pepsi, use desire as a reminder to desire something greater for this world. We can’t out-sacrifice God, but we can partner with him – even through the tradition of Lent.

The end is near. No, it is not the message of the radical Christian on a street corner with a straggly beard and sandwich board promising doom and gloom to the inattentive masses. It is the message of scientists and college students and politicians claiming that the world will be irreversibly marred if not decimated by catastrophic anthropogenic climate change.

And many Christians don’t like it one bit.

For one thing, Christians have had the corner on end-of-the-world doctrine for millennia. We know that soon (that’s a relative term, right?) Jesus will come back and the earth will be destroyed by fire and THAT will be the end. The Bible tells me so.

And we don’t like the competition that environmentalists are giving us. Sure maybe secularists would like a perceived threat to support their position on sustainability issues, but do they have to dabble in eschatology?

I for one am not worried. Most people (even many Christians) do not concern themselves with the immanency of Christ’s return. It’s been nearly two thousand years and we are still waiting with chagrin. I suspect that many will mock environmentalists the same way we have been mocked, “Ever since our fathers died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of creation.”

So do not fear, Christian, it is only a matter of time before this doctrinal flavor of the month becomes bland in the mouths of the masses and is quietly shelved like the threat of nuclear holocaust and the promise of Christ’s return. All we have to do is scoff at their claims as incredulous – just like they did to ours. At least, that seems to be our plan.

No introduction. No deep thoughts. No rants.
Be disturbed, or laugh it off.

Could this explain why passing a tray is such a mystery to many servers at church?

Karen is a golf pro who sat next to me on a recent flight back to Philadelphia. She was to meet a potential donor who might help turn her local animal rescue shelter into a no-kill facility. She asked, so I told her I was a pastor.

“Do you know some churches teach that dogs don’t have souls?” Karen asked.

Oh boy.

A pastor I once knew refused to tell strangers what he did for a living. He told people he was an antiques dealer. That lie seemed strange at best and hypocritical at worst. I don’t agree with disguising my profession, but understand why he did.

Those “Do dogs have souls?” questions require the acumen of a theologian, tact of a politician, and patience of an elementary school teacher. I just wanted to relax after a few great days in Nashville. Oh well, time to go to work.

Occasionally I am smart enough to listen before I speak. I kept listening to Karen and found that her issue with “some churches” is that many of them refuse to help her in her mission and passion to save animals. No, that’s not completely true. Her real issue is that Baptists (her label, not mine) don’t think animals are worthy of being helped because God created animals to do work and provide food for people.

What a coincidence, I thought, I am preaching on creation this week.

Pantheists worship creation as divine. Atheists respect nature as our context and ancestry. And Bible toting Christians, who believe that an all-powerful and intelligent transcendent God brought the universe and life into existence by his word are often… 

…ambivalent about nature.

Why? Is it a reaction against other religions and liberal atheists? Is creation care low on a list of priorities – eclipsed by poverty and abortion? Is it a sincere doubt that climate change as a threat to the earth is anything but junk science? Is it a misguided notion that dominion over the earth absolves us from caring for it?

My suspicion is that Karen’s passion for animals bothered people who saw other issues as more pressing. In her county hundreds of dogs are killed each year while hundreds of families lose their homes. I’m not saying that Karen’s mission would be top priority for our Mission’s Ministry if she approached Levittown Christian Church, but I like to think that we would not dismiss animal care as an unworthy cause.

Since she asked, I suggested new verbiage when she approaches a church. “Will you help me be a good steward of God’s creation?” I don’t know if that question will resonate with conservative southern churches. If not, I guess we can let private donors in Philadelphia take responsibility for creation care.

For those who don’t know, Nikki is my two-and-a-half-year-old Siberian husky. We spend a lot of time running and talking.  He is not a believer (says he’s agnostic), so that makes for some interesting conversations. Here is the conversation we had on our morning jog about Sunday’s message.

Nikki: So you’re telling me that you just preached a sermon on joy?
Me: Yes.
Nikki: Why?
Me: It’s a spiritual discipline that develops our faith.
Nikki: And people need to be reminded to be happy?
Me: Yes
Nikki: That makes sense.
Me: What do you mean?
Nikki: Human reflexes are nil, your endurance is pathetic, pink butts are ridiculous, eyesight is horrible, and don’t even get me started on your sense of smell.
Me: [getting defensive] So, you’re always happy?
Nikki: Pretty much.
Me: Why is that?
Nikki: I don’t worry about things.
Me: [doubtful] Nothing?
Nikki: Nope.
Me: The future?
Nikki: No.
Me: Food?
Nikki: I always have enough.
Me: The weather?
Nikki: I have this great coat.
Me: A girlfriend?
Nikki: I get around.
Me: Health? Disaster? Global warming?
Nikki: No, no, no. You just don’t get it.

I know he wants me to ask the obvious question so he can play armchair psychologist, and I ask anyway.

Me: What don’t I get?
Nikki: Can you control all of those things?
Me: Not all of them.
Nikki: But you worry about them anyway?
Me: Sometimes. What are you getting at?
Nikki: Worry and guilt give you a false sense of power and control.
Me: What?
Nikki: You’d be happier if you just let things happen.
Me: Let’s change the subject.
Nikki: I can’t believe they pay you to preach on this stuff.
Me: This conversation is NOT making me happy.

This continued for a while. Then silence for a few miles. Somewhere around mile six I thanked Nikki for his honesty. No response from him. Jogging with Nikki is cheaper than a therapist, he knows me better, and he never watches the clock (unless he wants to pick up the pace).

What would you tell Nikki at mile six?

Jesus created a few problems for me when he wrapped that towel around his waist and began to wash his disciples’ feet. He redefined greatness and leadership in terms of humility and service.

Often we hear about wearing a cross before a crown, but there is also that towel thing. 

Service frees us from the world’s games of promotion and authority. (Thank you Richard Foster for that thought.) The true servant must be willing to live Mother Teresa’s life without her fame. Thus success cannot be measured by traditional standards of achievement like an impressive title or a large paycheck. Success in ministry must transcend these things and risk a life of obscurity.

You’d think that would be enough for me to wrestle with, but there is more.

As the pastor of a small church I have come to grips with the realities of shoveling snow, changing light bulbs, and signing for deliveries. Everyone wears a towel, me included. I don’t struggle much with this because I work with many humble servants in the congregation who condescend to the realm of the mundane.

My struggle is with whether or not the shovel, ladder, and pen are excuses for me to risk little and accomplish little. Should I be blazing a new trail instead of clearing snow off the old one? Why do I really choose to serve? Is it possible that service is more comfortable than leadership? Is service a crutch for me? Might it sometimes mask mediocrity as a virtue?

What do you think? Does service work in tandem with leadership or compete against it?

Please, please do not respond with praise for servanthood. I get it. I’m asking you to join me in this wrestling match between our calling to the mundane and our calling to the spectacular. 

Nine days after the notorious shooting in Arizona our country celebrates the life Martin Luther King, Jr., the leader of a great non violence movement.  No doubt MLK, like everyone else (except Westborough Baptist Church), would have condemned the murders.

Now we are left with rhetoric from people who use tragedy as opportunity to advance their agendas.  Some antagonize by faulting their enemies while claiming that reckless speech is partially to blame.  That is not making peace. 

So here is my list about being nonviolent with words:

• If blaming others advances your cause then you are not a peacemaker.
• Rhetoric that bullies people to think like you does not make you a peacemaker.
• Raising your voice in anger does not make you a peacemaker.
• Comparing or connecting people you disagree with to a murderer does not make you a peacemaker.
• Peacemakers are willing to be wronged and spoken of poorly.
• Peacemakers do not retaliate.  (If you are right you don’t need a defense and if you are wrong then you don’t have one.)
• Peacemakers do not use words as weapons.
• Peacemakers look to apologize before they accuse.

Whew, perhaps we should set aside more than one day to observe a nonviolent hero. 

A typical sermon on prayer might follow an outline of three traditional answers God gives to prayer.  Those are: yes, no, and wait.  (I once heard a preacher get creative and rhyme them: go, no, and slow.) 

I get it.  Sometimes God says, “Yes,” like when I ask him for forgiveness.  He seems to hand out that grace pretty liberally.  Sometimes God says, “No,” like when I asked him about that professional music career when I was in middle school.  Didn’t happen.  And sometimes he says, “Wait,” like when I asked him if my neighbor’s dog would stop howling all day.  Requiem in Pacem, Cinnamon. 

But there is another answer.  It is the one I hear most often, perhaps over 99% of the time.  It’s the one I’ve become accustomed to.  It’s the standard answer when I whisper prayers with my children.  It’s the one I received when I made sure the church building was empty and had it out with God in the sanctuary a few times. 

Silence.

That’s right, God is not very conversant with me.  I pray.  I listen.  I spend vast amounts of time in silence and solitude.  Still, God doesn’t seem to think it is necessary to be overt when revealing his response to my prayers. 

Barbara Brown Taylor explores this reality in her book, When God Is Silent.  She offers this insight, “An idol always answers.  The God who keeps silent, even when God’s own flesh and blood is begging for a word, is the God beyond anyone’s control.  An answer will come, but not until the silence is complete.”

At the risk of broaching a problem without offering a solution, I won’t attempt to explain the mystery of God’s silence in one post.  The easy answers are that I am not really listening or that God speaks in ways that I will understand better as I mature. 

The hard answers run deep.  They beg questions like, “Why pray to God when he demurs?  How do we interpret nothingness?  Why does he respond only sometimes?”

Composer John Cage pretentiously proved to us that silence in this world is not possible, not even for four minutes and thirty-three seconds.  Noises and words surround us and are often disposable.  For instance, I toss thousands of words into the trash everyday in the form of a newspaper. 

Maybe God is showing us that words mean less than we think they do.  Maybe he is showing us that he is capable of something that we are not – restraint.  The voice of my Creator would be a powerful force.  But God is a gentleman who forces himself on no one. 

For me it has become a matter of faith.  Christ is not followed by sight or sound, but by those who hope in the face of darkness and trust beyond the silence.  We have his Scriptures.  We have his Church.  We have his Spirit.  Perhaps that is supposed to be enough.

How do you respond to the Silence? 

This week I attended a gathering of area pastors and church staff.  This particular meeting is always enjoyable to me for many reasons.  There was one experience I had, however, that has left me scratching my head about ministry leaders.  Can you guess if I am going to write about the good or the bad?

You guessed it.

At one point several ministers were brought up front for a game.  They were asked eight questions about the Bible and whoever could jot the correct answer down first won a point.  Simple right?  Here was the problem – very few of these professional ministers could answer any of the questions correctly! 

At first I thought the game was a setup, that this was some sort of skit intended to make us laugh.  I mean, several ministers thought Mark was an apostle and someone didn’t realize that Simon and Peter do not count as two of Jesus’ followers (since they are the same person).  Sure, maybe not everyone can spell Melchizedek, but shouldn’t people who make a living doing ministry be able to name at least one of Job’s three friends, or name at least one island that Paul visited? 

This anecdote supports a suspicion that I have had for quite some time.  Our culture and our churches are biblically illiterate because our leaders are biblically illiterate.  We have stressed for years (decades) that we do not need to memorize facts about the Bible or memorize parts of the Bible.  We have stressed that we only need to “have a relationship with God”. 

I have a relationship with lots of people.  I know things about them, like the names of their family members and places they have traveled.  These are not meaningless facts I have memorized.  They are parts of the stories of people I love.  Knowing facts about my friends does not create a “legalistic” relationship with them.  It provides context for me to understand them on a deeper level.

When my friends write books I read them.  I do not consider it a chore.  I consider it an opportunity to understand my friend, and learn something from them.  You see where I am going with this.

I had a hard time focusing at the meeting after this event.  There were other important things to be done during our time together, but I wanted to someone to address the fact that our leaders obviously are lacking in Biblical knowledge.  It never happened.

What to do?  The only thing I can do is take a hard look at myself and what is being taught at my church.  I can complain all I want about “those” people, but my ministry is to “these” people.  How well would my church leaders have done in that game?  What am I doing to teach them?

I suppose some of this goes back to a teaching philosophy that eschews learning and memorizing facts.  That is where I must begin my work.  The youth group meets on Sunday.  Perhaps I’ll start there.  Maybe this next generation will not only take a relationship with God seriously, but also take knowing things about God seriously.