On Sunday, I'm scheduled to give my inaugural sermon in our new church community. That's right, two days before the American election, a fellow who's spent more time in Canada than in the US over the last 30 years gets to offer a final word from the pulpit here in Chicago. I doubt that I'll be able to match the rhetoric ormedia interest of Jeremiah Wright. Nonetheless I have been looking forward to this opportunity, working hard in hopes that my "inaugural" would somehow be noteworthy.
The lectionary text is Joshua 3:7-17, Israel crossing the Jordan. God instructs Joshua to have the priests lead the way, carrying the Ark--the place of God's presence in their midst. The primary point seems pretty obvious: it's not about Joshua or his leadership, it's about God opening up the way before his people come what may (in this case a very flooded river).
One might think I'd have taken the lesson to heart, realized that my goal should be to stay in the background so that the Word could be foregrounded, etc. Alas and alack ... many of us, and certainly I, am a vain creature. Thinking ahead to the event I regularly found myself imagining my presence, voice, leadership in this "first exposure" event.
God thought otherwise.
Over the past few days, I've been struck down with a bad head cold/flu. I'm full of mucus. My nose drips incessantly. It's ugly and off-putting. Even if I wanted to, I shouldn't shake people's hands, embrace them in greeting, or get near them.
By Sunday, I hope to at least be able to preach without coughing too much. To accomplish that, I'll need to forego pulpit theatrics and passionate vocal outbursts and just voice the Word in more ordinary tones and speech. All I will be able to do is let my voice carry it out there.
As always, it's best if God does the rest.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Getting Out and Wading In
These are times of great turmoil.
At the time of this writing, world stock markets have plummeted 30%, a $700 billion dollar bail out plan--more money than I could hope to comprehend, seems a bit trivial for being too little too late, presidential candidates are "taking off the gloves" and getting nasty at one another, Al Quaida and other extremist groups are growing, gas prices have sagged a bit but are still way higher than we would have imagined even a couple years ago, pirates are seizing ships (not in the movies but out on the high seas again), hurricanes and floods have wiped out homes, towns, counties and whole regions, the almanac is predicting a very cold winter!
So what better time than now to get outta town!
For some, of course, the best way to get outta town is to escape to some sheltered resort, where the sun shines on white beaches and glistens across azure waters. In times like these, there's deals to be found for escapades like this. And for people who are in need of sabbath rest and renewal, gettaways like this just may be the right ticket about now. I've never done that kind of holi-days, though I hope to some day.
In the midst of the turmoil of these times, I'm just as excited about another reason to get outta town. This weekend, my wife and I head out for a quick trip to Austin. We probably won't stroll down 6th ave, take in the night life, or dine on the cliffs overlooking the scenic waterways. No, we're all hyped up about going to church.
On Sunday our granddaughter will be baptized. We--individually and communally--will claim the promises of God on her life, witnessing her descent into the turbulent waters of the deep and God's raising her to life everlasting. I don't know if the tradition of the local church is to dunk people or sprinkle them; and I don't really care. What I do care about is that this little girl, along with all the rest of us, will once again dare to wade into the waters of our world with all its chaos and destruction and death because we know that God's saving promise is sure and we will live with him forever.
This weekend, we're gonna get outta town, and with a group of God's people once again wade further and deeper into the promise of God amidst of the turbulence of our world. And I reckon that we'll return both exhausted and refreshed.
At the time of this writing, world stock markets have plummeted 30%, a $700 billion dollar bail out plan--more money than I could hope to comprehend, seems a bit trivial for being too little too late, presidential candidates are "taking off the gloves" and getting nasty at one another, Al Quaida and other extremist groups are growing, gas prices have sagged a bit but are still way higher than we would have imagined even a couple years ago, pirates are seizing ships (not in the movies but out on the high seas again), hurricanes and floods have wiped out homes, towns, counties and whole regions, the almanac is predicting a very cold winter!
So what better time than now to get outta town!
For some, of course, the best way to get outta town is to escape to some sheltered resort, where the sun shines on white beaches and glistens across azure waters. In times like these, there's deals to be found for escapades like this. And for people who are in need of sabbath rest and renewal, gettaways like this just may be the right ticket about now. I've never done that kind of holi-days, though I hope to some day.
In the midst of the turmoil of these times, I'm just as excited about another reason to get outta town. This weekend, my wife and I head out for a quick trip to Austin. We probably won't stroll down 6th ave, take in the night life, or dine on the cliffs overlooking the scenic waterways. No, we're all hyped up about going to church.
On Sunday our granddaughter will be baptized. We--individually and communally--will claim the promises of God on her life, witnessing her descent into the turbulent waters of the deep and God's raising her to life everlasting. I don't know if the tradition of the local church is to dunk people or sprinkle them; and I don't really care. What I do care about is that this little girl, along with all the rest of us, will once again dare to wade into the waters of our world with all its chaos and destruction and death because we know that God's saving promise is sure and we will live with him forever.
This weekend, we're gonna get outta town, and with a group of God's people once again wade further and deeper into the promise of God amidst of the turbulence of our world. And I reckon that we'll return both exhausted and refreshed.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
a stinger
I suppose I should have known better.
In my last post I mused about peace and panic, the lingering peace of summer as it begins to mix with the rising panic of all that must yet be done to launch the new academic/ministry year. I left the blog short ... so I could enjoy more of the summer's sabbath.
But truth be told, that didn't last long.
Instead of enjoying the three days of scheduled holiday (holy days), I found myself back in the office, writing sermons and devotionals, interviewing candidates, joining in new faculty orientation, and so on and so on. In it's own way, it was a good week. I worked hard, accomplished some good things, and eased the panic--even if only a bit. But I also ended the week feeling like I had missed out on something ... something holy.
I resolved not to continue my mistake, and so, even though there remains a pile of stuff to do, more details to chase, final edits to make, more interviews to conduct ... I was adamant that I would take this saturday as sabbath.
I woke early, and since I enjoy the quiet of morning, it was a treat to sit outside in the cool dewey air and slowly sip my way through a really good cup of coffee (thanks again for the beans, Bob!) The sun rose, I carefully watered some new plants I've started for next year, picked a few veges, and then hauled out the hose to more thouroughly water the vege garden and perennial flowers. And that was when I spotted a wasp hole. A couple wasps were just emerging, waking, as was I to a bright sunny day.
You know I should have left them well enough alone. I need those wasps. They help pollinate my plants. There aren't enough bees around here, so these little honey wasps are critical to the garden. But before even thinking through all this I just trained the flow of water on the hole to see what would happen .... Duh.
I don't really blame the wasp that stung me. After all, I had just mortally threatened it's home with catastrophic demise. And I don't even think it was trying to "come get me." It just so happened that in it's panicked flight to flee the flood, it flew up my shorts. I don't know just how far it got before it turned around but apparently I inadvertantly blocked it's way out as I shook my leg--the cloth of my shorts rubbing up against my leg closed off the wasp's escape.
The sting itself lasted only 10 minutes or so. But the swelling and itching and tightening of my skin continues. He must have got me pretty good because the swelling is about the diameter of a baseball.
I should have known. When we mess with creation, we inevitably get stung. And sabbath is as much a part of creation as anything else. If we mess with sabbath, one way or another we'll feel the sting.
billvg
In my last post I mused about peace and panic, the lingering peace of summer as it begins to mix with the rising panic of all that must yet be done to launch the new academic/ministry year. I left the blog short ... so I could enjoy more of the summer's sabbath.
But truth be told, that didn't last long.
Instead of enjoying the three days of scheduled holiday (holy days), I found myself back in the office, writing sermons and devotionals, interviewing candidates, joining in new faculty orientation, and so on and so on. In it's own way, it was a good week. I worked hard, accomplished some good things, and eased the panic--even if only a bit. But I also ended the week feeling like I had missed out on something ... something holy.
I resolved not to continue my mistake, and so, even though there remains a pile of stuff to do, more details to chase, final edits to make, more interviews to conduct ... I was adamant that I would take this saturday as sabbath.
I woke early, and since I enjoy the quiet of morning, it was a treat to sit outside in the cool dewey air and slowly sip my way through a really good cup of coffee (thanks again for the beans, Bob!) The sun rose, I carefully watered some new plants I've started for next year, picked a few veges, and then hauled out the hose to more thouroughly water the vege garden and perennial flowers. And that was when I spotted a wasp hole. A couple wasps were just emerging, waking, as was I to a bright sunny day.
You know I should have left them well enough alone. I need those wasps. They help pollinate my plants. There aren't enough bees around here, so these little honey wasps are critical to the garden. But before even thinking through all this I just trained the flow of water on the hole to see what would happen .... Duh.
I don't really blame the wasp that stung me. After all, I had just mortally threatened it's home with catastrophic demise. And I don't even think it was trying to "come get me." It just so happened that in it's panicked flight to flee the flood, it flew up my shorts. I don't know just how far it got before it turned around but apparently I inadvertantly blocked it's way out as I shook my leg--the cloth of my shorts rubbing up against my leg closed off the wasp's escape.
The sting itself lasted only 10 minutes or so. But the swelling and itching and tightening of my skin continues. He must have got me pretty good because the swelling is about the diameter of a baseball.
I should have known. When we mess with creation, we inevitably get stung. And sabbath is as much a part of creation as anything else. If we mess with sabbath, one way or another we'll feel the sting.
billvg
Thursday, August 7, 2008
peace/panic
I haven't blogged for a while.
'Twas a kind of sabbath ... just letting go. Just as importantly, I wasn't sure I had anything to say that merited a blog (which of course now prompts the question: on what basis does such merit get evaluated? ... and I'm not sure I know, but it felt so).
This fallow, sabbath season is fast drawing to a close. In less than two weeks, the rush of the new (academic) year begins. Panic. But today, it's still summer. Peace.
What odd space this is. Panic and peace. Peace and panic. Beautiful summer days, destructive and deadly storms. Already, but not yet ... the kingdom come/ing.
Knowing when to rest in the peace that still lingers, and when to kick into gear to address the swelling panic is, I find, a matter of deep spiritual discernment. Believing that God will provide is a challenge when the panic swells; but failing to enjoy the peace and quiet that God uniquely provides through the gift of a cool summer breeze seems equally wrong. It is of course paramount that some preparation is done prior to the end of summer, and what better time for careful reflection and imaginative probing is there than the quiet of summer? The need for spiritual discernment is clear.
Soon enough, I will blog again. But that's it for now. There's a cool breeze blowing outside...
bill
'Twas a kind of sabbath ... just letting go. Just as importantly, I wasn't sure I had anything to say that merited a blog (which of course now prompts the question: on what basis does such merit get evaluated? ... and I'm not sure I know, but it felt so).
This fallow, sabbath season is fast drawing to a close. In less than two weeks, the rush of the new (academic) year begins. Panic. But today, it's still summer. Peace.
What odd space this is. Panic and peace. Peace and panic. Beautiful summer days, destructive and deadly storms. Already, but not yet ... the kingdom come/ing.
Knowing when to rest in the peace that still lingers, and when to kick into gear to address the swelling panic is, I find, a matter of deep spiritual discernment. Believing that God will provide is a challenge when the panic swells; but failing to enjoy the peace and quiet that God uniquely provides through the gift of a cool summer breeze seems equally wrong. It is of course paramount that some preparation is done prior to the end of summer, and what better time for careful reflection and imaginative probing is there than the quiet of summer? The need for spiritual discernment is clear.
Soon enough, I will blog again. But that's it for now. There's a cool breeze blowing outside...
bill
Monday, June 2, 2008
anointed?
We've been hanging around with this Christian community for a while now. New to the area, singed, burned, scorned, and scarred by various Christian communities over the years, we've not been in any particular hurry to formalize the relationship.
It's an interesting bunch of people. There's a wide mix of professionals (professors, business owners, specialists of one sort or another, etc), a burgeoning younger demographic, an array of blue collar folks, and a bunch of very long time survivors. It's these survivors that amaze me.
Along the wilderness path of this community, it's been the point leaders who have done the real damage. Mostly, they violated relationships of one sort or another--mostly sexual. And given that sordid history, the community had times when prospective new leaders decided it was the better part of prudence to avoid the mess of this community.
But here's the thing. The community seems to be the better for it all. They have fashioned a style and commitment to "being the body together" in such a way that it doesn't all depend on the point leader. Point leaders, like anyone else, can come or go; the body will endure. So worship is led by lots of people. The pastoral care, too. Though when a "point leader" is in place, that person's gifts are celebrated and embraced along the way.
Recently, a few of these folks invited Connie and me to join them on a Sat eve trip downtown. We carpooled for the ride, ate together in the open air, and then enjoyed some live theatre together (the theatre was free, since we volunteered to do the ushering duties). It was a great afternoon/evening. But most memorable for me was the "anointing."
About mid-way through our meal, I was being pressed a bit by one of the group about what Connie and my plans were viz a viz the church. Would we become members or not? It was clear that they wanted us to say yes. That was nice, of course. But something didn't feel quite right about it all, either, for the person went on to assume that I'd offer some kind of "leadership."
And that's when the anointing happened. As this person was "pushing" me to accept the legitimacy of the community's expectation that I should be willing to offer something special, a bird flew overhead and dropped its doo on me.
Now, what should a person make of this?
Do we dump a load of crap on a person when we assume roles for them? Or does any person anointed to leadership inevitably suffer a load of crap? And why must people be anointed with so much crap from their leaders?
Whatever the case, it's the survivors that amaze me. May the crown of life--and life more abundant--await those who persevere in faith and hope. Amen: Let it be so.
It's an interesting bunch of people. There's a wide mix of professionals (professors, business owners, specialists of one sort or another, etc), a burgeoning younger demographic, an array of blue collar folks, and a bunch of very long time survivors. It's these survivors that amaze me.
Along the wilderness path of this community, it's been the point leaders who have done the real damage. Mostly, they violated relationships of one sort or another--mostly sexual. And given that sordid history, the community had times when prospective new leaders decided it was the better part of prudence to avoid the mess of this community.
But here's the thing. The community seems to be the better for it all. They have fashioned a style and commitment to "being the body together" in such a way that it doesn't all depend on the point leader. Point leaders, like anyone else, can come or go; the body will endure. So worship is led by lots of people. The pastoral care, too. Though when a "point leader" is in place, that person's gifts are celebrated and embraced along the way.
Recently, a few of these folks invited Connie and me to join them on a Sat eve trip downtown. We carpooled for the ride, ate together in the open air, and then enjoyed some live theatre together (the theatre was free, since we volunteered to do the ushering duties). It was a great afternoon/evening. But most memorable for me was the "anointing."
About mid-way through our meal, I was being pressed a bit by one of the group about what Connie and my plans were viz a viz the church. Would we become members or not? It was clear that they wanted us to say yes. That was nice, of course. But something didn't feel quite right about it all, either, for the person went on to assume that I'd offer some kind of "leadership."
And that's when the anointing happened. As this person was "pushing" me to accept the legitimacy of the community's expectation that I should be willing to offer something special, a bird flew overhead and dropped its doo on me.
Now, what should a person make of this?
Do we dump a load of crap on a person when we assume roles for them? Or does any person anointed to leadership inevitably suffer a load of crap? And why must people be anointed with so much crap from their leaders?
Whatever the case, it's the survivors that amaze me. May the crown of life--and life more abundant--await those who persevere in faith and hope. Amen: Let it be so.
Monday, May 12, 2008
... and he was a samaritan (Luke 17:16)
Simone Weil suggested that prayer is fundamentally a matter of paying attention. Paying attention is, of course, not always easy to do. Weil believed that if we developed the discipline of actually paying attention right through each petition of the Lord's Prayer, and prayed it in that way first thing each morning, it would transform us.
The Heidelberg Catechism teaches (Q&A 116) us that prayer is the most important way that we can express our thankfulness to God.
So if prayer is how we express our gratitude and thanks, and prayer is fundamentally a matter of paying attention, it should come as no surprise that we rarely give thanks unless something has first caught our attention.
Big leap .....
Lately, I've found myself in a variety of situations and conversations in which the topic has been evaluating worship. It's been quite a ride. Some have argued that worship is "ridiculous" unless it is centered on and consumed by doctrinal instruction (remember, this emerging generation has more than a few who long for the security of the old absolutes). Others claim worship is boring and "churchy" unless it offers mostly music and that music should be led by accomplished praise bands, or rising singer/songwriters (indeed, some of this emerging generation do not know any hymns for ever since they've been in church these past 20 years the only songs sung have been contemporary and up "on the screen"). Others expect worship to be limited to 65 minutes, and not a second more lest the social patterns of Sunday morning get crunched. Some desire "prophetic preaching" while others don't want to challenged so much as to be assured that they don't need to change. Nobody wants a scandal, but a little notoriety is o.k. if it brings in more members. Others want ... and on and on it goes.
In a pluralist world, who gets to decide what worship _ought_ to be like?
Here's a modest proposal.
If worship helps us to pay attention--to notice if we are known by our love (I John), to notice if we are known by our generosity (Acts 2), to notice is we are known as peaceful, gentle, kind, (Galatians 5), to notice whether or not we are "parable people" of the kingdom, etc. it is good.
If worship helps us to pray--to actually live with thanksgiving with what we have (rather than complain about the entitlements we think we deserve), it's good.
If we worshipped like this ... our Samaritan neighbors would notice. That's gospel.
The Heidelberg Catechism teaches (Q&A 116) us that prayer is the most important way that we can express our thankfulness to God.
So if prayer is how we express our gratitude and thanks, and prayer is fundamentally a matter of paying attention, it should come as no surprise that we rarely give thanks unless something has first caught our attention.
Big leap .....
Lately, I've found myself in a variety of situations and conversations in which the topic has been evaluating worship. It's been quite a ride. Some have argued that worship is "ridiculous" unless it is centered on and consumed by doctrinal instruction (remember, this emerging generation has more than a few who long for the security of the old absolutes). Others claim worship is boring and "churchy" unless it offers mostly music and that music should be led by accomplished praise bands, or rising singer/songwriters (indeed, some of this emerging generation do not know any hymns for ever since they've been in church these past 20 years the only songs sung have been contemporary and up "on the screen"). Others expect worship to be limited to 65 minutes, and not a second more lest the social patterns of Sunday morning get crunched. Some desire "prophetic preaching" while others don't want to challenged so much as to be assured that they don't need to change. Nobody wants a scandal, but a little notoriety is o.k. if it brings in more members. Others want ... and on and on it goes.
In a pluralist world, who gets to decide what worship _ought_ to be like?
Here's a modest proposal.
If worship helps us to pay attention--to notice if we are known by our love (I John), to notice if we are known by our generosity (Acts 2), to notice is we are known as peaceful, gentle, kind, (Galatians 5), to notice whether or not we are "parable people" of the kingdom, etc. it is good.
If worship helps us to pray--to actually live with thanksgiving with what we have (rather than complain about the entitlements we think we deserve), it's good.
If we worshipped like this ... our Samaritan neighbors would notice. That's gospel.
Friday, April 18, 2008
perfectly perfect perfection
Not too long ago, I found the following poem written by a teen about perfection.
Dear Perfection,
Sweating, Working
Perspiring, Aspiring
Never there, always out of reach
In the distance, but on the horizon
Midnight tears
Tears of sorrow
Reaching towards the Goal
Failing
but then… there is you
Always winning
Always making the Goal
Laughs and Smiles to all your buds
A smirk back to the losers
Me…
the Loser
Trying, failing
To forgive myself
signed,
Imperfection
I suspect that desiring to be the perfect leader isn’t far from most of our consciousness. No one wants to lead imperfectly. If you don’t know what your imperfections are, just try leading. They’ll jump out at you like those massive lit signs on a nighttime freeway. They’ll stare you down and wear you down. One thing I’ve learned along the way about leadership: leading exposes imperfections. So, we try to be perfectly perfect…and we fail, miserably.
And then, moments like Maundy Thursday, Good Friday & Easter come along. They challenge the perfectly perfect perfectionism in us. They offer grace. They remind us that God has addressed our imprecations and that when our imperfections show, there is grace, forgiveness and victory in a cross and empty tomb. Suddenly, while leadership seeks to expose our imperfections, God seeks to heal them. This young teen was on to something. “Trying, failing to forgive myself” isn’t possible. There’s only one forgiveness we need: God’s.
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