I Will Answer Them: A meditation on Psalm 91

When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them.

All of them.

The ones who choose between groceries and medicine, nourishment and healing.
The ones who leave one job only to rush to the next one.
The ones who live and move with constant pain, and cover it with a smile. 

When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them.

All of them.

The ones who must look over their shoulders, profiled, targeted, chased.
The ones who mortgage their dreams to give their children their best chance.
The ones who hide what makes them special because bullies will be cruel.

When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them.

All of them.

The ones who care for children and for parents, set the table, and clean the house. 
The ones who wear their hearts on their sleeves in a heavily armored world.
The ones who share their flaws in these airbrushed and photo-shopped times.

When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them.

All of them.

The ones who maintain their softness when their circumstances are hard.
The ones who maintain their faith when their hearts are overwhelmed.
The ones who maintain their generosity when their resources are exhausted.

When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them.

Breathtaking Light

Clouds with the most beautiful silver linings are full of large water droplets. The larger the droplets, the more light gets diffracted to the outer edge of the cloud. Breathtaking light doesn't require the absence of darkness or the elimination of obstacles. Breathtaking Light dances with darkness. It makes of the gathering storms a masterpiece, simply by being Light and finding a place to shine.

Lines

We often think in terms of lines.

      We stand in them with folded hands and muted voice,
      assuming that we have no choice.

       We run the lines we need to say,
       keeping the unruly ones at bay.

       We keep the colors well inside.
       It's not like us, but we can say I tried.

We often think in terms of lines.

        We map my routes from A to B,
        planning what we want to see.

        We map my progress on a graph.
        Yep, we do! I knew you'd laugh.

        We mapped our goals out on a grid;
        color-coded, dated, organized. We did!

We often think in terms of lines.

        We try to make things fit,
        even if it takes sheer willpower and grit.

But sacred moments live outside of lines.

        Blood-orange streaks of light
        pour out sunset for the heron's flight.

        Tears we thought we'd never cry
        spill from eyes we cannot dry.

        The reaching up of tiny hands
        makes us forget our best-laid plans.

        The day-trip we charted with GPS
        becomes an impromptu road-trip West.

Don't always think in terms of lines.
Graphs and grids can make you blind
to holy revelation
found right where you stand,
on Holy Ground.

American Dreams and God's Dreams

“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’"
(Luke 15:4-6)



We Americans prize the self-reliant individual above all others. We idolize figures like The Lone Ranger, Captain America, Steve Jobs who ostensibly set out on their own and faced their respective frontiers with cut-throat ingenuity, bravery, and grit. We praise leaders who have the backbone to say "You're fired," and who are willing to do what needs to be done to protect the bottom line, even if it means sacrificing personal relationships and dismantling the livelihoods of others. The film Up in the Air captures this perfectly when George Clooney's character, a corporate firing consultant, receives his 10 million mile flier status, just moments after losing the one real relationship he had ever experienced. He had spent his whole life "up in the air," loyal to his corporation, only to realize far too late that he was lost, and had no one with whom to share his free miles.

 Everywhere we go we hear the drum beat of consumer values. They try to make us believe that, if we want to be successful and belong, we must be willing to look out for #1, and compete in an every-man-for-himself game. It's no wonder that this image of Jesus the Shepherd, holding the one little lost sheep, isn't on the flagship image of business school brochures.  We don't see billboards with pictures of those who give their lives working for causes like homelessness, poverty, addiction, and human trafficking because our collective consciousness would have us believe that this isn't what success looks like. Whether consciously or not we have come to believe that material and social success is a sign of being blessed.  We are led to believe that we must choose either success or service. But, in the image of Christ the Shepherd, God calls us out of "either-or" thinking into "yes-and" dreaming. 

Every one of us, wherever we live and work, encounters "lost sheep." Every one of us, at one time or another, becomes lost ourselves. Some are lost on the streets, in addictions, or in poverty. Others are lost in broken relationships, loneliness, or mental illness. What often keeps us from loving one another, and loving ourselves, through those lost places is a powerful lie. It's a lie that says that money equals worth, social status equals value, help-seeking equals weakness, and sacrifice leads to financial insecurity. This lie cuts us off from others and from the God who wants only to find us and love us just as we are. It alienates us from a God who longs to connect us to one another, and rejoice with us at the reunion. God's dream is to stop at nothing until every single person who is lost and alone gets found, celebrated, and reconnected to loving community. Those are God's values. In God there is no shame in being poor, not holding important titles, seeking help, and sacrificing. Quite the opposite, in fact. From God's perspective, the real shame is when our wealth, status, pride, and fear of not having enough keeps us from living as we were created to live. God created us out of the very heart of Love and calls us to carry love out into the world. God asks us to find those who feel beyond love's reach, and use all the resources at our disposal to shepherd them back into loving community. The truth is that we weren't created to do life on our own. God doesn't need us to be self-reliant. God only asks that we look out for one another. God only asks that we do all that we can to open our arms to one another, to carry each other into safety, and to rejoice with one another every time we get a chance. We weren't meant to use our ingenuity, bravery, and grit merely to win and survive. We were meant to serve one another and thrive. So let's change our flagship image of success to a shepherd, and start teaching our children that real heroes leave no one out of the fold. 

God's Mirror

“…For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in  mirror; for they look at themselves and, and on going away, immediately forget what they were like.” –James 17:24

If you’re anything like me, you have a love-hate relationship with mirrors. They are everywhere, in our cars, our bathrooms, our bedrooms, and in public places. We have all seen things we never knew existed in those crazy high-magnification mirrors at cosmetics counters in department stores! Our mirror-image looks different than one in a photo or painting. A mirror leaves no room for Photoshop, or the sympathetic interpretation of a gifted artist. Mirrors simply reflect the raw image of who we are in any given moment. They ask us to look at ourselves unedited. The beauty of mirrors is that they give us important information. If we have food in our teeth or stray hairs out of place before a job interview or meeting, the mirror can save us from embarrassment. It can give us a chance to adjust or fix things.  The most profound thing about a mirror, though, is that it forces us to see ourselves—to examine ourselves—for better or for worse. How we judge what we see depends more on what is inside of us than what is on the outside. All those messages we have received about what we should look like, dress like, and smile like, and act like form the lens through which we see ourselves.

In this epistle reading from James, James uses the analogy of a mirror to talk about our spiritual image and identity. He wants the early Christians to whom he writes to examine themselves through the lens of God’s Word. He wants Jesus’ disciples to be doers of their faith, not just hearers. James knows that they have received lots of different messages about who God is and who they are, from their government, Jewish High Priests, their families, and their brothers and sisters from neighboring religions. So he decides to give them a picture of who God really is. He wants to give them the only lens that matters, so that they see an image of wholeness to which to aspire. For James, God is generosity, light without shadow, life-giving truthfulness, and fruitfulness. This life-giving, generous God sees us, His creation, as beloved ones. In God’s mirror, we look like saints who are slow to anger, quick to listen, and slow to speak. He calls us to live into the image of one who cares for orphans and widows in their distress, and keeps himself unstained by the world. This might sound like too tall an order if God were asking us to do it on our own. But we’re not on our own. We only have to do two things: “welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls;” and “persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act.” James is imploring us to throw out those earthly mirrors that magnify our flaws or allow us to become absorbed with ourselves. Instead, we are invited to come to the Lord’s table to find our true image in Christ; to continue to become the ones who received the name Beloved in our baptism. He sends us from His table out into the world to reflect for others the generous, light-filled, shadow-less, life-giving God of abundant love and grace. So look into God’s mirror! See yourself as God sees you. Then go in peace to love and serve the Lord! 

Where Else Can We Go?

That God chose to “wear skin” and take on our humanity is a shocking truth. We know all too well how broken and imperfect this world is. We know how limited and broken we can be. It is one thing to hear Jesus say that we are loved, welcomed, and invited to become part of His body in the world, but it is quite another thing to live out that kind of welcome in our lives. It’s incredibly hard to know how to find God’s grace, love, forgiveness, and presence in the midst of loneliness, isolation, pain, loss, and suffering. It’s easier to feel close to God, and serve God, when things are going well for us. It’s much harder to rest in God’s presence when we are struggling, hurting, or angry. 

In the gospel reading from John 6: 56-69 we realize that, even though Jesus’ disciples have been with Him through thick and thin, they still struggle to stick around. Even for Jesus’ disciples, living out their faith was hard. They struggled as we struggle. Loving as Jesus loves, and serving as He serves, means the hard work of relationship: loving those who are hard to love; taking care of those outside of our inner circle; forgiving those who haven’t earned our forgiveness; and seeing God’s presence in the simple and ordinary parts of life. 



Sometimes it will feel like the best we can do is grope around in the dark looking for God. When peace doesn’t come easily we can struggle to feel God’s presence. But Christ calls us back to the simplest places; to water, bread, and wine. In the grace of our Baptism we were marked as God’s beloved forever. In the spiritual food of the Eucharist Christ promises us that He is bound to us forever. We can never be separated from His love, just as the food that nourishes us can’t be separated from our bodies. So when we struggle, like the disciples, to accept that hope is stronger than brokenness, let us continue to come to Christ’s table together, to love one another, to serve one another, and to share Christ’s love with everyone we meet. Let us become so rooted in prayer, scripture, and service that, when the world asks why we keep coming to Christ’s table, we, like Peter, can say, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Come and Eat!

Food is at the center of everything we do, whether we are overwhelmingly busy or have lots of time on our hands. We may put off cleaning, laundry, or that project that has lived on our to-do list for way to long. But we never go for too long without eating. Most of us are privileged enough to know where our next meal is coming from, and we rarely forget to eat. Food is the way we care for the people we love and the way we celebrate a special occasion. Food gives us a reason to get together and share our stories. The savory and sweet aromas of certain foods has the power to instantly make us feel at home. We gather after church around a table of good food to catch up on the details of each other’s lives, and hopefully leave with the knowledge that we are loved, known, and belong.

In John 6:37 Jesus says, “Everything the Father gives to me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.” In other words, all are welcome at God’s table. No one will be turned away. No exceptions. We humans have a hard time wrapping our mind around that kind of welcome. So did the religious leaders of Jesus’s time. The need to eat is the most fundamental and universal human need. Jesus is telling us that, if you’re someone who eats, you are qualified to come to His table. Not only are you allowed to come, but you belong there. The meal was made for you; not the new-improved, once-you-get-your-act-together you. You, just as you are. This kind of welcome isn’t always comfortable or easy because it means there will be a whole lot of folks we might not invite if it were our table. God’s VIP list looks very different from ours. New Testament scholar David Rensberger says Jesus is “wisdom’s persistent address to the world.” As we go about our lives, preparing and eating from so many different tables, let us remember that the One Who Welcomes, “wisdom’s persistent address to the world,” has set a wide open table. At His table we are all loved, known, and belong. Your place is set. Come and eat!

#Blessed

#Blessed are the poor in spirit—

the ones who know more than their share of loss, bad luck, and uphill climbs.

Bless those for whom sleep is not rest,

and who often carry more than they can bear.

They know the God who promises, “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.”

#Blessed are those who mourn—

who have felt the pull of grief’s undertow.

Bless the ones in waiting rooms and hospital rooms.

Bless those who have felt the ground beneath them give way.

They know the God who is  “Repairer of the breach.”

#Blessed are the meek—

the ones who have no weight to throw around.

Bless those with no status to claim or power to leverage.

Bless the ones who could have “had it all” but choose to serve instead.

Bless the ones who are rarely in the headlines, but always on the sidelines.

Bless the ones who feel like they can’t run fast enough, do enough, or be enough.

They point us to the God who says, “Be still and know that I Am.”

#Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness—

The ones who stitch fairness into the tapestry of our common life,

one liturgy, one policy, one peaceful protest, one grant, and one meal at a time.

Bless the ones who notice empty cups and rush to fill them.

They know the God, not of half-full cups, or half-empty cups,

but of cups overflowing.

#Blessed are the merciful—

The ones whose hearts have broken wide open.

Bless those who had to walk through the valley of shadows

to learn what real light looks like.

Bless the ones who bear scars without shame,

and behold the scars of others as strength.

They know the God who leads forgotten people into promised lands.

#Blessed are the pure in heart—

who do the hard thing because it is the right and good thing.

Bless those who do small things with great love.

Bless those who listen without thinking what they’ll say next.

Bless those who love people without trying to change them.

They know the God who says, “I hold you in the palm of my hand.”

#Blessed are the peacemakers—

The ones who see the pain beneath the anger.

Bless the ones who have felt alone, and know what it is to be a companion.

Bless the ones who see broken buildings, broken systems, and broken lives

and use their two hands for Holy remodeling;

the ones who build Habitats for Humanity out of fortresses of fear.

They heed God’s call to “act justly, love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

#Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness—

The ones who trade reward for  risk, and comfort for conviction.

Bless those who speak truth to power, protect the weak, and speak up for the silenced.

Bless the thistle farmers, the road-in-the-desert-makers, and the loaves- and- fish multipliers.

They know the God who moves mountains with mustard-seed faith.

Framed

We frame wide smiles, new hair, "after" bodies, smooth skin in soft light.
We frame first steps, first dates, beautiful food at our #favoriterestaurant.
We frame new cars, remodeled homes, our #bestvacayever.
But we  hide the negatives in the darkroom. Undeveloped images of
                       the morning eggs scooped onto a cracked plate by aching, inflamed hands;
                       the breath held with the morning injection.
Where are the images of
                       the necessary cry;
                       the fear-smothering smile;
                       the long hug without words after treatment
                       the  whispered apology after too long a wait?
We risk curating a museum of half-truths.
We risk telling a story no one can find themselves in.
All moments are worthy, holy, necessary.
Frame them. Display them. Look at them. Remember them. Invite people to see them.
They will try to tell you to be #relatable.
Don't be framed. Frame it all.