Moments of Surrender

28 "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. 29 Walk with me and work with me - watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. 30 Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (Matthew 11:28-30 The Message)

This song reminds me of how busy, crowded and yet how painfully lonely life can be at times. “I did not notice passers-by and they did not notice me…speeding through the subway through the stations of the cross, every eye looking every other way, counting down ‘til the pain will stop.” We can be very socially connected and yet very lonely and disconnected at times, and I often wonder who supports us as we surrender to things on any given day. When we surrender to our impatience, when we surrender to our frustration, when we surrender to our pain, when we surrender to busyness when we yearn for rest, when we surrender to God…who is your community of support? Who do you turn to when you are tired, worn out, or burnt out?

I love the way that the Message paraphrases this passage from Matthew’s Gospel. Jesus gives us an invitation to walk with him, to watch what he does and how he does it; he invites us to learn the unforced rhythms of grace. (The rhythm of His heart, the rhythm of His soul) He says, “Love believes in you. Keep company with me.”

Keep company this Lent.  Don't let disconnectedness and loneliness rule your life.  Don't let virtual relationships replace flesh and blood relationships.  Find community somewhere so that when you find yourself on the edge of surrender, there's someone to catch you.

Apologetix

I don’t want to come across as snarky.  Really I don’t.  I’m even trying to turn away from my sarcastic habits--trying my best to give it up for Lent, but I find a fast of not eating to be easier than a fast of not being sarcastic (blame it on too many seasons of Seinfeld, I guess.)

I became aware of this story courtesy of Religion and Ethics Newsweekly, but found the following news story to be easier to link to: http://newsok.com/episcopalians-take-it-to-the-streets-for-ash-wednesday/article/3651812

Again, I don’t want to be snarky, but...

Where in the Bible do we find worship and convenience going hand in hand?  I seem to remember Jesus saying “let anyone who wants to follow me (come after me) take up your cross, daily, and follow me” (Daniel’s paraphrase of a passage from Luke’s gospel.)

Look, to all of you out there chasing down your sheep, making yourselves available to ash the members of the flock who are “too busy” to come to worship...you’re not helping.  I know that you have great intentions.  But you’re not helping.

I’m sorry.  

Actually, I’m not sorry.  You’re not helping.  You’re making it worse for those of us who actually believe and teach that being a disciple of Jesus has a cost associated with it.  And by “us” I mean you.  

Why are you chasing down people in the street to give them ashes on Ash Wednesday?  Because they can’t be bothered to attend. 

Why can’t they be bothered to attend?  Because you’re willing to chase them down.  It’s not the Church coming to the people.  It’s the Church helping it’s sheep stay lost and wandering and misdirected and under prioritized.  

The Ash Wednesday liturgy (worship service) is about saying, in one form or another, “Time out!  Stop the rat race for a few moments, ponder the things that are really important: grace, mortality, grace....grace.  It’s about slowing down and checking our priorities; looking for things in our lives we have made into Idols and turning away from the little gods to be embraced by the Redeeming God.

Ash Wednesday helps us step into the season of Lent, which is a season of slowing down and paying attention to God, and my humble opinion is that to chase down people who are “too busy” to attend isn’t doing them any favors.

I know you’re intentions are pure.  But the thing is this isn’t about taking the Church to those who don’t have access to the church.  We aren’t talking about shut-ins, or homebound members, or soldiers in Afghanistan, or Sailors in the middle of the ocean.  We’re talking about folks who think they are “too busy”, who think their jobs are “too important”, or that worship isn’t important enough to say, “Hey Bob, I’m gonna be late today because I need to be at worship.  It’s Ash Wednesday.”  We’re talking about folks who need to pause and hear, really hear, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

I know your love for them.  I know that you want to bring them back.  I know how many people in our world need to words like this:

“The sorrow of God lies in our fear of Him, our fear of life, and our fear of ourselves. He anguishes over our self-absorptions and self-sufficiency. Richard Foster wrote, ‘Today the heart of God is an open wound of love. He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him. He weeps over our obsession with muchness and manyness. He longs for our presence.’” (Richard Foster quoted in Abba’s Child by Brennan Manning.)

Understand this my fellow clergy folks, I love you and I love your passion, but if we want to help our flocks move from sitting in our stadiums and cheering about the things Jesus does to being on the field with him and slugging out life down by hard fought down, then we have to stop making the life of following Jesus so convenient, we cannot become enablers.  Make them take the time out that this season calls for; make them choose the One they and their house will serve.  

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

“13 For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb. 14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well. 15 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. 16 Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed.” (Psalm 139:13-16)

I know someone who seriously dislikes having their picture taken.  When asked why, the answer has to do with "not liking how I look." It's not up for discussion; it just is.  No pictures.  Period.

When you look in a mirror, are you happy with what you see? Residual self image can be a hard thing to overcome.  I used to weigh 220 pounds, and I was accustomed to seeing a large man in the mirror.  After losing thirty to forty pounds,  I have a hard time not seeing the large reflection.  It's a challenge to overcome the way we are used to seeing ourselves.

And like I hinted at yesterday, it's even harder to overcome the self image that is given to us by others. The echoes of names and labels can stay with us even longer than the echoes of physical images (who we used to be, how we used to look.)  It's even harder if those self images are handed out on behalf of those who represent God.

In reading Not a Fan by Kyle Idleman, I was struck by a passage where he talks about the dinner Jesus has in Simon the Pharisee's house.  A woman from the community--a woman labeled "sinner"--comes into the house, washes Jesus' feet with her tears and her hair.  Idleman writes, "...maybe it wasn't what Jesus taught. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. His eyes communicated her value and worth. She wasn't just a 'sinner' to him; she was a beloved daughter. And perhaps when Jesus finished teaching she  knew God loved her and hadn't given up on her, even if everyone else had."

So when you look into a soul mirror or a spiritual mirror, do you like what you see? Do you see only the brokenness of life, only hurt and regret and pain and "sinner"?  Or do you see the "Imago Dei" the image of God, Beloved son, Beloved daughter.  

“Oh you look so beautiful tonight.” Can you imagine God speaking those words to you? Try it. Try it, because God is speaking those words to you right now. “You look so beautiful tonight because you are my unique creation: fearfully and wonderfully made.”

Is there something that holds you back from fully accepting God’s love for you? Is there something that was said to you that holds you back from feeling the depths of God’s love? Let it go! In the name of love let it go! You are fearfully and wonderfully made—even though you make mistakes, because we ALL make mistakes—you are fearfully and wonderfully made. We are a people who embrace the fullness of God’s grace—the core of which is this: “Blessings aren’t just for the ones who kneel…luckily.”

The Wanderer

"Yeah, I went with nothing, nothing but the thought of you.

I went wandering. "

“11b I myself will search from my sheep, and will seek them out. 12 As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered…” (Ezekiel 34:11b-12)

For fear of sounding simplistic, there’s something that we need to understand as the heart of the gospel. Jesus came for us. John 3:16 tells us very plainly that God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that those who believe might have life. To use the words of this song, Jesus came and walked and wandered and gave himself with nothing but the thought of you. He came looking for you.
He came to rescue you: from sin, from shame, from hurt, from loneliness, from anger, from isolation, from fear. He came to give you forgiveness, and worth, and wholeness, and community, and joy, and connection, and life.

We can get caught up in a lot of things that aren't all that important. Debates about morality; disagreements about theology; we can get spun up about which translation is the preferred translation or whether or Jesus is my Homeboy or Holy.  When we get stuck in these rabbit holes we forget the simple core of the story.  Jesus came wandering.  Jesus came to extend grace when we need it the most and have earned it the least.  

We can be very good at putting words like "useless" and "worthless" into the self identification vocabulary of other people.  I want to do my part to drop some friendlier phrases and to remind you that the One who made you came looking for you; he's wandering, calling your name, trying to lead you home.  

"40" at 40

“1 I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry. 2 He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. 3 He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God.” (Psalm 40: 1-3)

The song “40” was probably my first exposure to the psalms. I had no idea that I was singing scripture all those times I sang along with one of my favorite bands and yet I knew as I sang the song that some part of my spirit, my soul, felt better because of it.  Years later, at the age of 40, this song still gives me hope and release.

We all have moments in life when, like young children searching for words, we simply cry out to the Holy, where we lift up the word or the thought or even the emotion: "How long?"  We release the cry of our heart and wait for God to meet our need. (And to quote a different musical artist, "The waiting is the hardest part...")

There is power in the act of "naming."  In Exodus, Moses asks for the Name of God to which God replies, "I am who I am" or "I will be who I will be."  To possess the name of a deity in the ancient world was to wield power over that one deity.  The act of naming continues to be important when we name our troubles, when we name our “miry bogs” —whether it’s a bad habit, a troubling situation, financial difficulties, an illness or a frustration—name it, let it go, and then watch to see what God does. A big part of healing, forgiveness and reconciliation is letting go of whatever past we feel trapped in and moving into a future with God.

(A prayer form that works well for “letting go” of frustrations: hold your hands in a “palms down” and closed position. Imagine that whatever it is that holds you in place is in your hands, take a deep breath and then open your hands, letting out your breath. Say “God I give you…(whatever you have let go of). Now turn your hands palms up keeping them open (a position of receiving). Take antoher deep breath and say, “God I receive your…”(whatever you need in the moment, peace, comfort, security, forgiveness—usually something opposite of what you let go of.))

Ash Wednesday and U2's "Bad"

A couple of years ago I wrote a Devotional for the season of Lent based on song by U2.  I decided this year to re-tool the devotional and publish it on my blog in the hopes of re-igniting my discipline of writing.  I used to write a lot, but have not had--or not made--as much time in the last 18 or so months to write as much as I would like.  So here is my offering to the void on this Ash Wednesday.

“12 Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; 13 rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.” (Joel 2:12-13)

“This desperation, dislocation, separation, condemnation…isolation, desolation/Let it go and so to find a way.” The 40 days of lent tend to be a ritualistic surrender of something we love because tradition says we’re supposed to “give something up for Lent.” We give up chocolate; we surrender time spent on Facebook, or texting on our cell phones, or our favorite television shows for 40 days (ex-ing off every single day until Easter finally arrives). What if we made Lent an exercise in surrendering to God in each moment? Surrendering our isolation, surrendering our self-condemnation, surrendering our dislocation. What if we used Lent as a season of reflection to “let it go” so that we can grow in God’s Love?


A Facebook friend posted this thought today:  "What’s the difference between a flute and a stick in the mud?” our priest asked on Sunday. He then went on, “The stick in the mud is full of itself. The flute has been emptied of itself so it can make music.”


Lent is a season where we are called to re-turn to repent to stop juggling so much *stuff* so that we can take up greater quantities of grace, greater amounts of the presence (and presents) of God; it's about emptying ourselves so that we can play the music of salvation for the world to hear.


What do you need to let go of during this season of reflection so that you can live in and share God’s love more fully? Say a prayer asking God to help you “let it go” and then rest in God’s love for a minute or two.

Prayer for the Day

Courtesy of Midday Prayer for Sunday*:

 O Lord my God, to you to to your service I devote myself,
body, soul, and spirit.
Fill my memory with the record of your mighty works;
enlighten my understanding with the light of your Holy Spirit;
and may all the desires of my heart and will center
in what you would have me do.
Make me an instrument of your salvation
for the people entrusted to my care,
and let me by my life and speaking
set forth your true and living Word.
Be always with me in carrying out the duties of my salvation;
in praises heighten my love and gratitude;
in speaking of You give me readiness of thought and expression;
and grant that, by the clearness and brightness of your holy Word,
all the world may be drawn to your blessed kingdom.
All this I ask for the sake of your Son,
my Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

*From The Divine Hours: Pocket Edition. Compiled with an introduction by Phyllis Tickle. Oxford University Press, 2007. Sunday: The Midday Office, "The Concluding Prayer of the Church."