more wonderful than gloss

Meditation given this past Sunday.

Romans 8:31-39
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,
“For your sake we are being killed all day long;
we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.”
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

It is in weeks like this that we begin to wonder about that statement. We think of the little children, men and women trapped under the rubble of Haiti’s buildings and we wonder where the love of God is in those places. Where was the hand of God the minute before the ground began to shake? Where has God been in Haiti’s history of poverty, mismanagement, dictatorship, and colonialism?

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

There are easy ways to answer the questions that this passage brings up for us this week. Some say that Haiti simply deserved what they got. A well-known television preacher spouted that one off this week. Some say that God does not exist at all or if there is a God, that God is completely impotent. These answers make sense. They help us put pieces together.

But for me, these answers are not satisfying. They do not make sense with the God that I know in Scripture, in history and in my own experience. The God I know is not punative. The God I know does not abandon us, even when we are at our worst. The God I know responds in truthful love, never devastation. The God I know is always drawing us into reconciliation and wholeness.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

What we see of God in Jesus is a God that does not run away from the worst pain. God enters the tension with arms wide open in strong, compassionate, creative, truth-telling love. God affirms the meaning and beauty of life in this world while also suffering with us.

Into this world of paradox, Jesus was born a poor man in an occupied country. He was “a man with his back up against the wall.” In his lifetime, Jesus protested against radical suffering. He resisted the powers that inflicted it. He healed the sick. He loved the unlovable. He demonstrated how we are to live in a world of tragic tension between suffering and meaning. And he died. The one sent to save us. The beloved Son of God.

The story does not end there. Three days after his death, he appeared to his friends. They struggled to understand their experience. What could this mean? For them, it meant that God is stronger even than death. Death was not the end of relationship. The eternal love of God continued even past this life and so these women and men, the friends of Jesus, were freed to follow the way of Jesus – living their lives for the healing and blessing of the world.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

And because God does not remove Godself from this world in either its pain or its joy, neither do we.

If you know nothing else about Christianity, know this. We believe in a God who rushes into the paradoxes of this world. We believe that love is stronger than death. We believe that justice is more powerful than evil. As Christians, we are always seeking to embody this more and more in our world, to be the hands and feet of God where there are no pat answers. Or at least that’s where we should be.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr got this. He believed in this God who resided in the middle of the pain and injustice of the world, always seeking to restore, heal, and bind together. And because he believed in this God whose love goes beyond death, he sought to live without fear. After a demonstration in the south, he said that the authorities were not expecting the courage they found in the African Americans. Dr. King said, “They were not aware that they were dealing with Negroes who had been freed from fear.”

Because Dr. King believed nothing can separate us from the love of God, he believed that nothing can separate us from each other. He believed we live in a web of interconnectedness that makes your pain, my pain, your joy, my joy. “All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality.” He believed the more we could live into this, the more hope there is for the healing of the world.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

This week I heard someone echo a sentiment given after 9/11. But instead of saying, “We are all Americans,” this week we say: “We are all Haitians.” We cannot escape our interconnectedness. Our hearts grieve with those who have lost. We long for not only the recovery of Haiti, but healing for the nation of Haiti. We give and pray. We long for restoration.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.
And nothing can separate us from each other.

It is not a matter of making this true but merely of realizing that it is true. It is a matter of living in reality vs. living a lie. May we live in truth. May we embody and show in our largest actions and our smallest gestures that we are connected.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

It seems ubiquitous to comment on Pat Robertson’s comments about Haiti today. Saying that this earthquake has come because Haitians made a deal with the devil is completely illogical, mean and the opposite of what Christian compassion is about.

Haiti’s poverty is due to the ravages of colonialism. In this case, France’s racist slavery which profited only the French and left Haiti completely destroyed. But of course, France is not alone in colonial guilt and Americans bear our own share. If this is the way God operates, then why doesn’t God punish us more harshly for the destruction of native peoples and for the presumption that we can take their lands and run them better than they did? And that’s only one crime that deserves some major punishment.

In the end, there really is no good answer to why. It happened. It is horrific. And tomorrow it could just as easily be my family, city, country for no real good reason.

But most of us want to find reasons for tragedy, don’t we? When we hear about someone’s struggles, we often try to pinpoint it on something they or someone else did wrong. When a child is acting out, we assume it is the fault of the parents. When another person falls down, we wonder where they tripped. I do this over and over.

I think partly it makes the unanswerables easier to handle. If there is a reason, then there is someone to blame. If there is a reason, then I can still easily account for a good sovereign God in the face of tragedy and disaster.

Finding blame also allows us to separate from the potential pain and grief and the questions it might open up. It is a natural response to want to run from potential pain.

Pat Robertson’s comments are ugly and inexcusable. But he is a gross caricature of what we do over and over ourselves. Our first response is to separate and distance rather than draw in.

The God I believe in and the God I see revealed in Jesus Christ doesn’t ever, ever do this. God draws closer with compassion and understanding. God cries tears of sadness, grief, anger, pain and solidarity. God’s whole being pulses with the sentiment I heard someone say in the past 24 hours: “Today we are all Haitian.”

And what is even more amazing is God is willing to teach us as well to open ourselves to others, recognize that we are all connected and give us the courage to draw closer rather than pull away. I long to be open to this kind of courage.

So before we get to high and mighty about Pat Robertson, let us recognize the shadows of our own hearts that he represents and then move away from the tendency to distance even as we draw close to all those who are hurting.

Here is a quote from a book I am very much enjoying by Parker Palmer called Let Your Life Speak,

By surviving passages of doubt and depression on the vocational journey, I have become clear about at least one thing: self-care is never a selfish act – it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others. Anytime we can listen to true self and give it the care it requires, we do so not only for ourselves but for the many others whose lives we touch.

This period of my life seems to be calling for this kind of attention. Often I feel selfish for taking it, but on the other hand, I have been somewhat forced into it.

But it also seems true that American society keeps us running at such a high pace of production that we don’t have time for self-care, intentional reflection and space to ask what really matters. When I lived in Hungary, I could count on at least 1-2 hours of time “alone” on a bus to think, pray and be. The stores closed by 6 pm so I often had whole evenings to myself at home without the possibility of making a run to Target.

Part of the problem is that many of us (myself included) are a bit lost on how to care for ourselves. We don’t know our own rhythms and needs and haven’t put in enough practice to get a sense for the rhythms of our bodies and souls, for the ways we connect best with God. We are afraid of nothingness for what it may reveal and so we fill these spaces with others’ words, hasty prayers, food, and concerns over trivialities.

Parker Palmer encourages us to listen to our selves first and then to care for ourselves. Maybe that is a cycle we should more intentionally take. Taking those few minutes to listen before we rush to do anything, even rush to self-care. Learning to question the default mode that says self-care is watching another TV program or spending time on Facebook (which it may be somedays) and instead listen to the voice that calls us to a period of utter silence, a poem or Scripture that calls out our true self, a task taken that will free our soul, a nap that will give our body the alertness it needs to be present.

Our selves are the only gift we have to give. Attend to yours. With fits and starts, learn its rhythms, care for its needs and give it away. It is not easy and we all fail to do it well, so accept the grace that is yours and start over again today. This hour. This minute. It is yours alone to give.

I haven’t written in a few months. For some reason, it is hard for me to blog when I’m in school. Most of my thinking and writing space goes towards my classes.

2010 is pretty unscripted for me at this point. I have 2 classes to take this spring that count for ordination, but my degree is completed. I was planning to do Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) from April-September but the program I applied to was postponed until September. So I have 9 months with very little to do.

In the gap, I am taking January off mostly to regroup and take a deep breath. After 10+ years of stay at home parenting combined with 6 years of graduate school, I actually have “nothing” to do for 6 hours a day. That will get old quickly but right now, I’m enjoying the space to have coffee with friends, read, knit, run, explore some new activities and take time to think.

I would also like to write more so watch this space for thoughts on vocation, spirituality, parenting, culture, justice and whatever else comes up.

I’m wondering why the church doesn’t talk more about Amos 8:6, “buying the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals, and selling the sweepings of the wheat.” Seems that if we are to get literal with the Bible, we would do well to preach more explicitly in favor of fair trade, against consumerism that favors a “good deal” over justice, and the quality and quantity of food available to the poor in our world.

*I’m first in line for the confessional booth.*

Straight hair!! Taken by my daughter in Manila

I’ve gone through a huge change in the last week. No, it’s not the culture shock of flying from the Philippines back to the US. And it’s not the time change either, which is currently only allowing me 4-5 hours of sleep a night.

I got my hair straightened. In a 5 hour process in a salon in a mall on the tip of the Philippine islands, I went from a head full of natural curls to stick straight hair.

It took me months of debate to decide whether or not I was going to do it or not. When I asked for feedback on Facebook, I got comment after comment of very strong opinions in either direction. The comments ran from “God gave you curly hair so you should keep it that way” to “Sounds fun! Do it!!” And when I actually got it straightened and posted a picture, the response was less than enthusiastic from some people who were clearly more attached to my curls than I was.

Now that I am home, I am facing the daily, sometimes hourly event of running into people and having them get used to it. It feels like I’ve had a face transplant sometimes instead of just a change in hair style.

In all honesty, I did it because I love change, not because I hated my curly hair or because I think straight hair is better. And even better than this one change is the possibility that making this change will open me up to more change. What happens when I get sick of my hair or don’t want to pay to keep it straight? I will cut it short and try that for awhile! While that thought may frighten my long hair loving husband, it sounds super fun to me.

Reflecting on all of this has made me think a lot about the dynamics of change.

Eighteen months ago, my husband decided to leave his secure job of 22 years to work for a consulting firm. Besides more time together as a family, we felt that this change would make us that more available to other changes. It was as if we needed to start the car moving in order to make a turn. Letting go of one security helped us see that we could be open to new possibilities. And indeed, we are now considering far flung possibilities such as moving to another country or out of state. But it would have been harder to consider that if he hadn’t made his job change last year.

I think it is change or maybe the fear of change that keeps many of us from living a truly free life. Sometimes changing one thing can free us up for another. This is especially important for those of us who are living in the suburbs, who live lives of safety and predictability, who think we can control our destinies and our futures.

I know some people love to stay in one place. They thrive on predictability and routine. I know I am on the other end of the spectrum which is why living and working across cultures, ideas and locations is where I feel most at home. But all of us need to look closely at what we are holding onto too tightly. What kinds of changes in our finances, our thinking, our daily routine, our family, our understanding of the world or God or each other would help us live more openly, more engaged with the deepest problems of our world, more connected to our planet, each other and to God?

Change comes in many ways. Maybe a habit of recycling can lead to composting or reduced consumption. Maybe a daily time of meditation and prayer will lead to a more centered and focused life. Maybe taking your children to work in a homeless shelter will help your family live more simply so others can simply live. Maybe taking a backpacking trip pushes the limits of your physical strength which gives you the courage and discipline to take time to exercise more consistently. You never know what one change will lead to but it is better to live a fully engaged life than one that is padded by fear and excess security.

i hear his voice on the phone,
“h-e-y, jenny, how’s my girl?”

it has been 2 yrs since he passed away,
taking secrets and sentiments with him
he never knew how to express.

the rough hands,
the skilled but unschooled eye,
the forever farmer always looking at the sky.

i don’t know exactly what lies beyond death
but these days i imagine i will hear,
“how’s my girl?”

My first career was in what was called “member care” – providing support and resources to people who were living and working in a cross-cultural environment.

Ironically, I was a victim of this “care” when I first began. A good friend had been murdered just a year before and the grief had unleashed a chain of unpacking a lot of the faith and structures I had grown up with. When I was interviewed to be accepted by the organization, I was raw and they saw it. They requested I take an extra 6 months to take care of myself and find some stability. I was embarrassed, angry and frustrated. I had been honest with them and then got punished for it. Or at least that’s how it felt. Looking back, they may have been right.

Once I was on the job 18 months later, I began to see the wisdom of the structure. There were many, many organizations who had sent people with no support. These organizations were proud of their loose structure, their ability to listen to the Spirit’s leading to determine readiness for life overseas and the independence of their staff. But in reality, there were many serious casualties of their lack of structure. People who had not been evaluated psychologically may have looked good on paper and won popularity by their drive and charm, but once the limelight was gone and the pressure of cross-cultural living began, they imploded. At best, the cost was thousands of dollars spent to move an entire family across an ocean only to find out they couldn’t make it. At worst, it was husbands and fathers having sex with 16 year old local girls. And most often, it was the lives of the family who suffered from lack of support and understanding.

Honestly, I often see a lot of this same tendency in emerging Christian movements. While we have given a lot of thought to our theology and our praxis, we have not considered the health of an individual. And without a working sense of emotional health, it is easy to reward those who come across as most confident and charismatic to their own detriment, and also to leave behind voices that may be more cautious and understated but provide wisdom and a needed perspective.

I am not a big fan of institutions when they prohibit mission and flexibility but I have also learned that it is dangerous to leave the structures behind all together. The question for the emerging Christian movements is how do we use the gifts we have been given by modernity – theological exploration, understandings of human emotions and behavior, structures that support people who are not white, male, straight and charismatic – and use them in a way that is less authoritarian and gate-keeping? How can we help those called to ministry fulfill their dreams and have room to test out their visions while also supporting them financially, emotionally, theologically and spiritually? There are no easy answers to these questions but in the meantime, we need to give both institutions and emerging movements a little grace. For those of who find ourselves with a leg in each, we need to facilitate conversation and mutual learning in a way that gives each its due respect.

In class on Tuesday, we talked about really important things like what happens after you die and how does what we think about that affect how we live now. I love these kinds of discussions, especially in the welcoming and friendly space of that classroom. I left class thinking, “I want to have these discussions in whatever I do. This is really important.”

A few minutes later it occurred to me that those conversations are not important without the doing things that are important like loving people, feeding the hungry, working for justice, listening to those who have no one to listen to. And so much of my problem with academia and those that dive deep into the “important questions” is that their questions are disconnected from the doing. But there are many who do, but don’t think too much.

This is the point – I want to do both. I think that is one the things that really drew me to the emergent movement is that there is rich theological discussion AND an insistence on praxis. But we are given a false choice when we feel we have to choose between academia and the church. Maybe one does become our vocation while the other becomes a way of life, but it also seems there can be ways to integrate the two. It just takes a lot of thinking outside the box and a lot of courage to challenge the definitions. A pastor who is willing to risk honest theological discussion risks stepping outside “orthodoxy” and the bounds of their denomination. An academic who is willing to enter into the pain outside the walls of the institution risks finding their air-tight answers don’t work as well in real life with people in real pain.

I feel caught in between because I’m not sure there are places that will let me do both… think, speak, and do things that are really important… not just walk the hamster wheel of institutional propriety.

Waking up this morning are Presbyterians all over the San Francisco Bay Area who are preparing for a meeting this afternoon and evening in which they will vote on what our standards for ordination will be around issues of sexual orientation.

In my own prayer this morning, I am reminded that there are many opposing prayers being lifted up for this meeting. All of them sincere. All of them well-intentioned. All of them believing they are faithful to God and the gospel. But they don’t agree. And sometimes they don’t have any grace to give to those who disagree.

I feel sad that we are so divided on this issue. I am frustrated by those who are going in with a strategy, agenda and ultimatums. It feels so far away from the discerning, reconciling work of the Spirit that the church is to embody.

As for me, I will be in class all day, following the reports coming from the meeting, praying for all that are present and voting and hoping for a gracious spirit on the part of all who participate. In some ways I would like to be there, but in other ways, I am glad I am gone. Watching those who claim to follow Christ argue and divide is really not something I need to see.

Whatever your prayer is this morning, my prayers are with you. Go in peace. Listen. Welcome. Embrace. Have courage. Wrestle honestly. Take heart. Remember the greatest of these is LOVE.