Side Effects

(Big Brutus, near Mineral, KS)

About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them." (Acts 16:25)

Sometimes, fighting cancer is just managing the side effects of the medicine used to treat the bigger problem. For example, my first round of chemo left me nauseous for two weeks. To combat the anticipated nausea for the second round (which happens Wednesday) I have several different medicines on hand...just in case. 

I also have medicine available for pain.

Unfortunately, one of the side effects of both the medicine used to treat nausea and those used to treat pain are "digestive issues"...particularly the type of issue that begins with "consti" and ends in "pation." I've always been very regular. I was not prepared.

Constipation is no picnic.

In fact, last week, I was nearly paralyzed with this condition.  For the three-hour nightmare, I had no idea how to remove the football that was lodged in my lower gastrointestinal tract.  I called my gastroenterologist. Not available. I called again. Still not available. I was told that he was in "procedures." I didn't care about anyone else's procedures. In fact, I started to panic. I wasn't getting any better.  Finally, I called my little sister who was visiting and is also a physician.  This phone call should have been humiliating, but I was past the point of any pride.

"I think I need to go to emergency room," I managed to squeak.

"Slow down," my little sister said.

"I can't get much slower," I thought, "Things are pretty much at a standstill."

"There are some things we can try.  If you can make it home, I will run to the pharmacy and meet you there with the 'supplies'," she said. "We'll hit this thing from above and below."

This sounded ominous, but considering my situation, I agreed and  decided to leave work since I wasn't being overly productive.

At home, I was met by both my sister and my wife and a bag full of medicine.  I was coached through my treatments, which, while humbling, was also rewarding because these two women are both mothers and I have a new appreciation for what it is they went through in child birth.  I never knew.  It was terrible, but soon I had a breakthrough. Afterwards, I was pooped. I napped for about an hour, but it wasn't for two more days before I began to feel my regular self again.

Needless to say, I am taking special care with my digestive health these days because I never, ever want to experience that  place again.  I am convinced that this "side effect" was the weapon of Lucifer used to derail me from my treatment protocol.

Well, stick it, Satan!

And I believe that is one way the Devil works. He tries to get us focused on the side effects and we deal with them and it takes a lot out of us and we began to wonder if it is all worth it.  Sometimes the side effects make us forget that there is something bigger lurking in the shadows. Sometimes we forget that we are engaged in a big and important battle, but when we remember we experience Paul and Silas faith; faith to get us through the hard times, and never lose site of what it is we are really trying to accomplish. This kind of faith is Samson and his one last lean on Dagon's temple.  It is King David composing one more hymn of faith in the middle of deep darkness. (eg. Psalm 22)  It is Esther approaching the king.  It is going to worship and and prayer when everything in your life turns inside out.  It is faith to keep us focused on the bigger problem we are dealing with, not just the side effects.  

Church Stopping. Less Doing. More Being. 

Pinned.

(Photo by Travis Heying, Wichita Eagle, 2016)

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies;"

-Psalm 23:5a

Pinned. Stuck.  Trapped. It is a bit unsettling.  For the last twelve days, I have been repeating these words as I undergo radiation treatments for the cancer in my throat.  Actually, I have been thinking these words, not actually speaking them.  During these treatments, my head is fastened to the table via a mesh mask that is designed to keep me from moving even a twitch.  This allows for accurate targeting of the treatments, but does not allow for oral recitation of these words of comfort.

I am powerless, but God is at work.

Our middle son, Isaac, when he was just about three years old, had some difficulty sounding the letter "r".  I remember one evening, we were in the middle of a real, mid-western, spring zephyr. There was thunder and lightning, wind and rain, and even a tornado siren.  The whole family was huddled in the basement waiting for the tornado warning to expire and I was visibly nervous.  I was worried about the roof, the trees, and the insurance paperwork, and  Isaac said, "Daddy, don't be afraid of tomatoes, God is with us in the storm and He will keep us safe."

Isaac knew that God was at work even when we were stuck in the basement and powerless to do anything about the storm.

And God did keep us safe that night, though it was scary. However, I know that sometimes, the tornadoes do come. The trees do fall.  Sometimes the storms in life pummel roofs, sometimes they tear at our hearts, and sometimes they do violence to our bodies. They are painful, heart-wrenching, and even devastating. Sometimes we feel pinned down. We can't move and even if we could, we aren't sure where we would go or what we would do.

We feel powerless, but God is at work.

...even on that treatment table. It is uncomfortable and nerve-wracking, and painful, but it has also been a humbling and awesome experience to feel God work when I can't move.  I don't know for sure what God is doing, but He is at work in me and around me and maybe even through me. I am convinced that when this is over, I won't be in the same place I was in the beginning.

Still, it is no fun.  And I can still think of others who might be more deserving of this affliction. But I am beginning to experience God in a new way.  When I am stuck, I am absolutely convinced that God at work, preparing a table of blessings, holding me close, and reminding me not to be afraid of tomatoes.

Church Stopping. Less doing. More Being.

Underneath His Wings

(This photo has been circulating on Facebook and I cannot find a reference...however,

it is an amazing picture.  Thank you for sharing!)

"He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge..." (Psalm 91:4)

It's been a while since I have posted.  A little over three months.

However, this hiatus all began about sixteen months ago.  What started out as a severe sore throat and ear pain has progressed to a forty-pound weight loss and chronic fatigue.  I have seen five doctors, a chiropractor, a natural healer, and a spiritual healer.  I have been prayed on, over, and anointed.  And, about six months ago, my weight loss leveled out. Praise the Lord! He covered me with His pinions.  With the exception of the severe ear and throat pain, I was able to maintain my daily routine.

It was a lot of work.  My wife and I have always tried to eat good, healthy food, but we had taken it to an extreme in the last six months. I ate no sugar, no soy (soy is in everything!), I cut out dairy, wheat, and even meat-based protein.  We began to juice.  We juiced beets, and celery, and carrots, lemons, and even kale.  Our three boys weren't terribly enthusiastic, but they were good sports.

However, I was still waking up two and three times a night because of the pain.  And, in April, I began to lose weight again, my voice changed, and I began to have a difficult time swallowing.  We knew whatever was wrong was getting worse and we made another appointment with another physician for June 14, 2016.

That is a day my world shrank.

The doctor came highly recommended by our family's doctor. He asked me many questions, then pushed my tongue down and had me say, "Ahh."

"Oh," he said, "You have cancer." (oral-pharangeal)

My wife and I were stunned.  We couldn't believe what we were hearing.  We had been thinking food allergies. But the biopsy confirmed the diagnosis and on Wednesday, July 6, I go in for my first round of chemotherapy and radiation.  It has been devastating to us, but in the middle of it, we have seen God at work.  He has given us a peace. We have also had momentary meltdowns.  Then, in those low moments, God stuffs the mailbox with cards from friends, family, and church community.  We met with a friend who has survived this type of cancer. God has graced our table with dinners provided by parents of students from the boys' school and from the church. My parents made an 1100 mile drive to help us catch up with projects around the house and help with the kiddos while we met with oncologists and gastroenterologists and the specialists at Smoothie King.

It has been an amazing and beautiful thing to see how the church works.  It's been incredible, actually.

I find myself in a paradox of fear and peace.  I can't see the ground from this high branch.  I don't know how I am going to make it to the next one...but, somehow, I feel the prayers, and I know that under his wings, I have  found refuge.

Church Stopping. Less Doing. More Being.

The Harrowing of Hell

"The Harrowing of Hell" by Duccio di Buoninsegna (1308-1311)

For Christ died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous,

to bring you to God. He was put to death in the body but made alive by the Spirit,

through whom also he went and preached to the spirits in prison who disobeyed long ago when 

God waited patiently in the days of Noah while the ark was being built... (1Peter 3:18-20a)

...at the name of Jesus every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the Glory of God the Father.

(Philippians 2:10-11)

"He descended into hell." (The Lord's Prayer)

Holy Saturday. We don't talk about it much.  We are reminded of the cost of our salvation on Good Friday and then the actualization of our salvation on Easter Sunday. We skip over Saturday because we don't like to dwell on the dead body of Jesus lying in the tomb.

But Jesus wasn't dead. Not totally...

Crucified in the body but alive in the Spirit, Jesus went to Hades where he preached to the prisoners who had long ago died during the deluge.  

It makes us uncomfortable.

Because if Jesus was made known to those who did not have a chance to know him in their lifetime on earth, those that even "disobeyed" God, than there is the suggestion that those who die without a saving knowledge of Christ today will still have a chance to meet him face to face and accept Christ as Lord and Savior when they die. 

Perish the thought.

Because if the Lord really "descended into Hell" and if 'every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth," then our belief in Christ has to mean more than just life with Him after we die. If Jesus is available to the living and the dead, then those of us who are living can no longer think of salvation as just a divine insurance policy, redeemable upon death.  

At least, not according to Scripture.

The harrowing of hell means that no one is really beyond the love of God. And if this is true, than Christianity limited to a post-mortem, empty-tomb, reward is not enough. There has to be some merit to knowing the Lord before death. 

Of course there is. 

The veil has been torn between us and the holy. We have access to the Creator...the wonder of this world and the promise of the world to come. Our faith has one foot planted in the sealed tomb of Saturday and the other planted in the empty tomb of Sunday. We are Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday people.  We have life with God today and life with God for ever and we can never fall out of the reach of our Savior who will storm the gates of Hell for all who would follow Him.

Church Stopping. Less Doing, More Being.

Sleep on It

Nearly done with the tree house!

(Elijah) lay down and slept under a broom tree; and behold, and angel touched him, and said 

to him, "Arise and eat." (1 Kings 19:5)

When you walk, they will lead you; when you lie down, they will watch over you; and when you awake, they will talk with you. (Proverbs 6:22-23)

Have you ever noticed that the solution to a problem, or the answer to a major decision in life, seems more clear after you lie down?  We shouldn't be surprised. Neuroscientists  believe that the brain receives nutrients and believe that toxins are removed during sleep.  Researchers believe that the brain organizes and stores memories during sleep. And, I believe, God speaks to us as we sleep.

And, sometimes, angels come to us in the night.

When Elijah was on the run from Jezebel, he was led to a broom tree where he slept for two days before a forty-day journey to Mt. Horeb.  Angels came.  And it was God himself that spoke to young Samuel while he slept.   Jacob saw the ladder to heaven while he slept and Joseph dreamed dreams.  God appeared to Solomon in the dream where the king asked for wisdom.

Because wisdom, sometimes, comes in the night.

Over the last three months, working on the boys' tree house, I have often come up against various problems; Where should we build the tree house? How tall should the tree house be? How can the roof be sealed around the tree branch growing through the center? How are the kids going to get into the tree house when I remove the ladder?  How far apart should the floor joists be? Sometimes I can just call my friend Steve who has a lot of wisdom about tree house construction (and real house construction!). Sometimes, I don't even know how to ask Steve. Then, I just sleep on it.

After all, God speaks in the night.

I know, it is just a tree house, but it is also a backyard adventure, a secret hideout, a meeting place, and a place for boys to get off the ground and dream.  However, I am convinced that the solution to every problem that I have been faced with, not just with the tree house but in life...if I sleep on it...has become much clearer and often less scary.

And I believe that this is one of the main promises of Sabbath. We set down the hammer and nails and rest and allow God to speak to us, not just of floor joists, but of parental decisions and career moves, and relationships. God speaks to us, pragmatically, when we sleep, but also to that deep part of our minds connected to our hearts; that place where dreams live and we are reminded who we were created to be. 

Neuroscientists and researches talk about nocturnal brain activity in the form of nutrients and toxins and memories.  The faithful know that it is God that speaks in the night.

Church Stopping. Less Doing. More Being.

Road Trip: by Larry Snook

(The author hard at work on a tree house for the grandkids.)

Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. (Ephesians 6:4)

Just before retiring, Geoff, Burl, and I took an awesome road trip to LaGrande, Oregon where I met with a member or the Oregon Public Employees Retirement System and got signed up for my Oregon retirement. But, to get to LaGrande, we took a fun route.

We had decided to go to the Oregon Coast and see my mother and Geoff's grandmother. We decided to leave the main highway when we left Ontario and cut across country through the Owyhee and Steens Mountain area. It was scenic and wild and we were running out of daylight when we approached the National Antelope Refuge in south central Oregon. We pulled off on a side road and drove out through a sagebrush-covered landscape and decided to pitch our tent along the two-track road. Geoff and Burl took a walk down to a pond in the draw below and Burl had the time of his life harassing the Avocets who lived there. After dinner we walked down the road as the sun was just setting and seemed to be sitting right on top of the tall sage. It was an awesome and beautiful sight. Then things changed. The setting sun seemed to trigger the howling instincts of coyotes and they began howling from all directions. Burl wanted to be carried back to camp. When we bedded down in our small tent, we had a visitor for the night. Burl crowded in between the two of us and did not give up his spot until daylight.

The next day we traveled on than, shortly after getting back on the refuge road, we saw a sign which read, "No camping allowed on the refuge". We traveled on to the refuge headquarters and took a long soak in the hot spring pools. Then on to Grants Pass, Oregon and took a beautiful back road over the coast range, down the Rogue River, and on to Bandon to see mother.

After our visit there we were on to Eastern Oregon and LaGrande for my meeting. After the meeting, we traveled through Wallowa County and my old stomping grounds and over to Lewiston, Idaho, We camped on the Lochsa River that night. Then, on over Lolo  Pass the next day and we made it to Butte, Montana for lunch. We toured the big copper mine and Geoff insisted on taking me to the famous Butte landmark, Pork Chop John's, to have their famous park chop sandwich! 

(What a fun trip, Dad! Thanks for the reminder.  It's about time we do it again. I love you, Geoff)

Church Stopping. Less Doing. More Being.

Imitate

(Mom, Dad, and Gabby.)

“Follow Me.” (John 1:43)

   “We do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are…” (Hebrews 4:15)

When Jesus came into the earth, it changed the Jesus. Jesus has always been and will always remain God, 

our great High Priest, but, in His experience as a human being, Jesus was forever changed.

            When my parents' dog, Gabby was four years old, she was out on a "walk" with my mom and dad and she was running fast, full blast, through a field chasing something. She was a great hunter. Athletic, and had a never-give-up attitude.  What she didn't see, and what my parent's didn't see in the tall grass, was a left-over irrigation pipe. The pipe had an opening about the size of Gabby's head.  She ran directly into the opening of that pipe.  She was initially dazed. Then, she staggered away from the pipe, collapsed, and lost all

movement in her legs. Gabby was  paralyzed. 

My parents rushed her to a veterinary clinic eight hours away  where they had the capability of doing an 

MRI. The doctors discovered that Gabby had ruptured a disk in her neck and tore a hole in the sheath

around her spinal cord.  The doctors said that there was nothing that they could do. They

couldn’t operate. They just had to wait and see if the sheath would heal. My parents brought Gabby
home after a couple of days with explicit instructions to handle her very gently so there wouldn't be 
 any further damage.  

Gabby had a friend in the neighborhood, Duke.  He was about the same age and about the same

personality as Gabby, if not more energetic.  Every day Duke would come over and they would wrestle.
For about an hour, they would play together. They would wrestle and run and jump.  And on the day that 
Gabby came home from the hospital. he barked enthusiastically for Gabby.  Gabby, without lifting her head, barked weakly to let him know that she was on the porch, lying down.  My parents were worried because Duke and Gabby played rough and they knew that Gabby wasn’t supposed to move or be moved.
They didn't want Duke to paw at her or even to nudge her. However, they didn't interfere thinking that 
Gabby’s spirits might be lifted in seeing her good friend. 

Mom and Dad watched as Duke walked over to the porch and looked at Gabby. He didn’t touch her. 
He didn’t paw her. He didn’t nudge her or even touch her.  He just lay down with her, eye-to-eye, 
nose-to-nose. For an hour, every day, for several weeks Duke came and spent time with Gabby
until she could run and play again. Duke was different.

So are we.  When we imitate Jesus, when we get nose-to-nose with those Gabby’s 
in our lives we know that it will cost us something…and there is no guarantee that they will be changed. 
We may even experience loss; financial, temporal, and emotional, but we will be changed. And there will be joy and we will keep coming back, day after day after day because that is what love is.  And that is what Love does.
Amen.

Church stopping. Less doing. More being.

Quaresma

(Charleton Hesston in the Ten Commandments. Photo courtesy of Paramount pictures.)

Ballad of the Goodly Fere

            By Ezra Pound

Ha' we lost the goodliest fere o' all

For the priests and the gallows tree?

Aye lover he was of brawny men,

O'ships and the open sea.

When they came wi' a host to take Our Man

His smile was good to see,

"First let these go!" quo' our Goodly Fere,

"Or I'll see ye damned," says he.

Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spears

And the scorn of his laugh rang free,

"Why took ye not me when I walked about

Alone in the town?" says he.

Oh we drunk his "hale" in the good red wine

When we last made company,

No capon priest was the Goodly Fere

But a man o'men was he.

I ha' seen him drive a hundred men

Wi' a bundle o' cords swung free,

That they took the high and holy house

For their pawn and treasury

I ha' seen him cow a thousand men

On the hills o' Galilee,

They wined as he walked out calm between,

Wi' his eyes like the grey o' the sea,

Like the sea that brooks no voyaging

With the winds unleashed and free,

Like the sea that he cowed at Genseret

Wi' twey words spoke' suddenly.

A master of men was the Goodly Fere,

A mate of the wind and sea,

If they think they ha' slain our Goodly Fere

They are fools eternally.

John Eldridge in his book, “Wild at Heart,” writes: “Christ is no passive "capon priest ... no pale-faced altar boy with his hair parted in the middle, speaking softly, avoiding confrontation, who at last gets himself killed because he has no way out. He works with wood, commands the loyalty of dockworkers. He is the Lord of hosts, the captain of angel armies. And when Christ returns, he will be at the head of a dreadful company, mounted on a white horse, with a double-edged sword, his robe dipped in blood. Now that sounds a lot more like William Wallace than it does Mother Teresa. No question about it, there is something fierce in the heart of God."

Maybe we have forgotten that we have a rigorous faith.  Maybe we have forgotten that Christianity is not for the faint-hearted.  Maybe we have forgotten that Christianity is not, as Karl Marx once said, “an opiate for the masses.” While it is true, as CS Lewis has said, that in dying Christ did for us what we cannot do for ourselves, it is also true that we are expected to follow Him; and these forty days of Lent leading up to the Christian Passover is an opportunity for us to take our place with Moses and Elijah and Jonah and Jesus Himself.  There is nothing magical about the number forty, but there is something Biblically significant about 40; the Latin word is “quaresma.” When we think of “forty” we are reminded of all the old stories; The Israelites were in the wilderness for forty years.  Moses was on the mountain for forty days.  Jesus was in the tomb for forty hours.  So we give up chocolate and read the Psalms we do something; and whatever it is we do for forty days, in that time we rescue Jesus.  We rescue Jesus from being a gentle-hearted savior; we rescue God from being a sentimental weakling who will allow us to live without rebuke; we rescue our faith from being an opiate for the masses and we remember that we worship a sovereign and holy God and our faith is not one lived on couches by potatoes, but one lived by adventurers to undiscovered countries, and prophets to unrepentant people, and soldiers redeeming captive lands.  Our faith is one that will challenge us as well as comfort us; break us to fix us, and try us but ultimately bring us face to face with the One who has gone before us.  What will you do and where will you go in the next forty days for our Lord.  Blessings to you, Godspeed, and safety on Your journey. Amen.

Church Stopping. Less Doing. More Being.

A Look Back: Valentine's Day, 2015

Wow! Where does a year go!

(Photo from www.freeimages.com #683215)

Mostly, I have thought of Sabbath as a personal discipline.  It has been, for me, something I do on my own, like praying or going to church or eating less chocolate.  I know that this something is good for me even if it isn't always enjoyable.  Joy hasn't been the point.

But, maybe I've been wrong.

Maybe Sabbath was never intended to be a solo journey.  And maybe joy is specifically the point.  Maybe Sabbath is less like a solo discipline and more like a road trip or even a great-big block party:

       Set apart a tithe of all the yield of your seed that is brought in yearly from the field. In the presence of the Lord your God, in the place that he will choose as a dwelling for his name, you shall eat the tithe of your grain, your wine, and your oil, as well as the firstlings of your heard and flock, so that you may learn to fear the Lord your God always. But if, when the Lord your God has blessed you, the distance is so great that you are unable to transport it, because the place where the Lord your God will choose to set his name is too far away from you, then you may turn it into money. With the money secure in hand, go to the place that the Lord your God will choose; spend the money for whatever you wish—oxen, sheep, wine, strong drink, or whatever you desire. And you shall eat there in the presence of the Lord your God, you and your household rejoicing together.” (Deuteronomy 14:22-26)

It seems to me that the command here is to get to where God is and then celebrate with everyone else who has made the trip. Joy is specifically the point.  And if you can't make it to where God dwells, then invite everyone over and celebrate the blessings of God where you are. Only, be careful to avoid the BBQ if you are a vegan. Be wary of the punch bowl if you are a teetotaler. Forget about decency and orderliness.  The only command is to rejoice and to rejoice together.

Last Saturday, our family took a road trip.  Our oldest son was playing in a basketball tournament out of town. As luck would have it, there was a swimming pool in the same facility.  Our two little ones spent a lot of time perfecting their swan dives and belly flops between games.  My wife packed a gourmet picnic lunch.  We cheered wildly and almost won the championship. We finished the day at a Mexican restaurant eating salsa and chips and celebrating sky hooks and swan dives. We even had a little chocolate for dessert. It was a beautiful Sabbath, a lovely Valentine's day, and a great party!

I like Sabbath this way better: together and not alone.  In fact, I like the idea of a party better than worship and wonder would happen if we thought of church in the same way...as celebration..."you and your household rejoicing together."  I don't know.  It might be a disaster.  Someone may sing too loud, eat too much chocolate, or start to dance.  But, maybe in the midst of it all, we would laugh a little and give God some room to move.  Who knows what might happen if church were more of a party and joy was the point.

Church Stopping.  Less doing. More being.

A Look Back: Up at Night

Another flash back. This includes some original, beautiful art work by an original, beautiful artist..

(Picture painted by Jennifer Snook, 4/13/2015)

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, 

who for the joy set before him endured the cross, 

scorning its shame,

 and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

(Hebrews 12:2)

I had a sleepy Sabbath this week.  It is hard to rest when someone you love is sick.  

He may have been suffering through allergies, or a cold, or both...but on Saturday night, our middle son was miserable with a bad cough.  It was keeping him up and he was upset. "I don't want to miss church tomorrow," he said. I didn't want him to miss church, either. He loves worship and adores his Sunday school teachers. They have class in the church tower. It is pretty awesome.

I wanted to make it better. I wanted to take his cough away. But there wasn't anything I could do.  So I just sat on his bed and held his hand.  We talked until he calmed down and was finally able to sleep.  And, finally, he did.  Before I went back to bed, I watched him a while longer.

I found myself thinking about God, sitting up with his sick children, watching them cough and suffer through life, unable to rest until He did something about it.  The difference between God and me, I mused (at least, one of many of the differences between God and me!) is that God could actually do something to relieve the suffering of His children. He could come and take away the cough. Jesus could come and make us completely healthy and remove all sickness so that we would never worry again about suffering through another sleepless night. While He was at it, Jesus could heal everyone, not only physically, but emotionally, and spiritually...and remove all selfish desire so that there would be peace and joy throughout the world.  Jesus could do it.

But He hasn't...not yet.

Instead, Jesus came as one of us. Certainly, there were those times that He performed miraculous deeds...but mostly, He just worked with wood.  Then, He began to tell stories in a northern accent to fishermen who had told a whopper or two themselves.  Jesus knew hunger and thirst and wept for the loss of a friend.  After a while, Jesus walked to Jerusalem where He surveyed His Kingdom from a cross, ascended into heaven, and "sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."  Jesus did all of this, it seems, so that he could go to each and every one of His children who was miserable and suffering and hold their hand and talk until they found rest. That gave Him great joy.

All I could do for my own son was sit up and talk. I didn't make the news or get my star in Hollywood, but maybe it meant something to my son.  In the morning, Sabbath came sweetly and I entered the joy of my rest and our son was able to go to church and visit with Jesus.  

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Look Back: Dust and Dreams

Another reprise, in case you missed it. Re-enjoy!

(This is the boat, my friend Pat is building in his driveway...it is so awesome!)

I have reconnected recently with an old friend who, it turns out, is building a wooden boat. He plans on cruising to Alaska once he is done.  Then, he plans on taking the, "Epoxy Empress" down the Mississippi.  In the meantime, he is a pastor focused on shepherding a flock.  I know him well.  I know that he is a great pastor, one that takes the time to listen to his flock.  He is also very good at listening to his Shepherd.  His roots go deep.

As I was visiting with him about his boat, the One who dreamed the vast universe into existence began to reacquaint me with my childhood dreams.  

I began to remember how I poured through the encyclopedias and National Geographics when I was growing up. I recall reading of tropical islands and dreaming of lonely mountains.  I saw pictures of lakes as big as oceans and deserts as big as countries and trees bigger than any other living thing in all of creation. 

I also dreamed of having my own sheep ranch and writing a novel and learning to sail...my dreams come like a heaving sea. 

But somewhere along the way, I lost sight of those dreams.  I started to listen to the background noises...the worldly voices telling me, "It just isn't practical to join the Peace Corps." Or, "The Merchant Marines? What about settling down and raising a family?" "Be responsible." "Be successful." "Get an education."

So that is what I did. I settled down, got an education, and started to raise a family.  I have chickens and small fruit trees and a mortgage and three wonderful boys that demand most of my attention....and I am so thankful for them.  But I am also married to the one who gave me, "Dove" to read on our first date; the one who toured the Baltic states in college and flew to her native Ireland right after graduation. She is a constant reminder of which way our roots point.  

Since becoming married, we spent a summer in Alaska and two weeks in South Africa. We've seen those great big trees and a couple of lakes as big as the ocean.   Sometimes I don't, but she always hears the voice saying:

"This is the way. Walk in it." (Isaiah 30:21)

As you continue your discipline of Sabbath, don't be surprised when you start hearing voices. Just when you thought your dreams were lost safely under a layer of dust, they are brought to light again.  Your world becomes less safe, but more vibrant.  Your days become a storm-tossed sea but at night you see clearly as the beacon guides you back to the dreams you had when you were younger; when the world was your canvas and you really believed that all things were possible.  

Where is He leading you?

Perhaps your dream isn't cruising to Alaska or down the mighty Mississippi on a boat you made with your own hands. Instead, maybe it's medical school, or writing a book, or living in a tree, or raising sheep, or painting. Why not?  To be rooted in Christ is to be yoked, not with the earth, but with an itinerant carpenter who likes to wear His hear long, drink good wine, and get out on the open road. Don't be surprised if you hear that still small voice telling you to leave Ur and everything you know for that undiscovered country. 

Our Shepherd knows the way.

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being. 

A Look Back: Church Membership

Over the next several weeks, I will be revisiting some of the favorite posts of the past year. Re-enjoy!

Members, Don't Count (For expanded context, see "White Wave Manifesto" in Pages on this blog.)

Why do we count members in church?  It might be that our denominations require it for statistical/financial purposes.  Maybe increasing membership is a feather in our cap. Maybe decreasing membership is a concern in our hearts, but what is the theological reason that we count members?  Are we recognizing a certain group of people that have filled a certain battery of requirements?  And if this is true, if we are counting people who belong to the church, than perhaps we have forgotten to Whom the people actually belong. Hint: He’s the one who filled the requirements!

In ancient days, God divided the Promised Land among the tribes and the tribes divided their allotments among the founding families. Every family had an ancestral acreage.  The ancestral acreage was not only a source of livelihood, it was a constant reminder of the God who not only provided the rain, but provided the land itself. It was held in trust.  The family was a steward of the land.  Families didn’t own what they worked.  It ultimately belonged to God. 

Sometimes, though, there was a crop failure. Sometimes there was a sickness in the family.  Sometimes there was an unexpected mouth to feed and the ancestral land was mortgaged. Sometimes, a family would have to sell the land to pay the taxes or to make ends meet.  They would then hire themselves out as laborers for a different land owner, but only for a certain amount of time.  At the end of a period of fifty years, the land was restored to the original family.  We have heard of this restoration as part of the jubilee year:

You shall count off seven weeks of years, seven times seven years, so that the period of seven weeks of years gives forty-nine years. Then you shall have the trumpet sounded loud; on the tenth day of the seventh month—on the day of atonement—you shall have the trumpet sounded throughout all your land. And you shall hallow the fiftieth year and you shall proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you: you shall return, every one of you, to your property and every one of you to our family. That fiftieth year shall be a jubilee for you; you shall not sow, or reap the aftergrowth, or harvest the unpruned vines. For it is a jubilee; it shall be holy to you: you shall eat only what the field itself produces. In this year of jubilee you shall return, every one of you, to your property. When you make a sale to your neighbor or buy from your neighbor, you shall not cheat each other.  When you buy from your neighbor, you shall pay only for the number or years since the jubilee; the seller shall charge you only for the remaining crop years. (Leviticus 25:8-15)

The buyers of the land knew that at the end of fifty years, the horn would blow and the land would be returned to the original owners.  The sellers knew that their descendants would eventually be restored to the land of promise.  The purchase price, therefore, was based on the time left from the point of sale to the time when the land would be restored to its original owner.  If there were twenty years left until Jubilee, the land would command a higher value than if there were just ten.  If there were forty years remaining, the price would be higher still.   

When the horn blew the prodigals would return home.  The jubilee was a blank slate and a fresh start.  We see why the jubilee was sometimes called the, “year of the Lord’s favor.” Everything was new again. The people returned to their original property.  For Israel, that meant a return to the promise and a reminder of the One who made that promise a reality.  The trumpet blast was a reminder that God always brings his people home: through the call of Abraham and his barren wife Sara, through an extended trek across the ocean floor after hundreds of years of slavery, through the howling wilderness, against great odds and sure defeat, God was faithful.  God is faithful still.

The goal of jubilee was not a commandment to make the people more religious.  The goal was not to make the land more productive.  The goal was to set the people free.  Similarly, the goal of our Christ was not to make good church members.  The goal was, and still is, to delight in “the divine love that swamps both body and soul." (Barbara Brown Taylor, “Sabbath Resistance,” Christian Century (May 31, 2005): 35.) The goal remains for the church to experience communion with a God who delights in us. As a response, we glorify Him by joining the church and offering our praise. The church is not a substitution for a personal relationship and personal ministry, but a launching pad for it.

What if, in the church, we thought of the church membership in the same way the ancients thought of land ownership?  After a period of time, the horn would blow and not only would we let the land lay fallow we would release the servants by deleting the membership roles.  The people would then be free to suspend their membership obligations.  They would be free from serving the church and be reminded that they serve the One who created the church. 

This membership purge would be equally applied to both the newly baptized and the original charters; to those members that are shut-in and to those members that go out; to those members that are contributing financially and to those that aren’t; to those members that are attending worship every week and to those who attend faithfully every Easter and Christmas.  All are cut free.

But we hesitate at the thought of deleting membership rolls knowing that we would be raising judicatory ire.  We hesitate because there would be some in our churches who would balk and squawk at the idea of deleting our roles.  We know that church membership should be less about recruitment and more about deployment but we also know that such action would solicit a rare visit by denominational representatives suddenly concerned about our orthodoxy while protesting the loss of funding based on active membership.  

Furthermore, we are secretly proud of our membership.  “Our numbers are holding steady but our giving is up.”  “We had four people join last week.”  “We have over 6 thousand members.” 

But perhaps for all of our focus on membership, our focus is on the wrong thing.  Is our membership in the church more important than our relationship to Christ? Deleting the membership roles might remind us of the proper role the church plays in our relationship with God. Becoming a non-member does not mean we must be a non-attender.  In fact, there is nothing Biblical commanding us to be members of a church.  Indeed, I know of one church in town that doesn’t keep membership roles.  They never have.  The truth is, we are accountable to God, not the church. 

Membership has nothing to do with keeping our name on a membership list. It isn’t about paying our dues.  It isn't based on biannual church attendance.  So why do we have such a hard time wrapping our minds around the idea of deleting the membership roles?  Could it be that we are more concerned with church maintenance than spiritual maintenance? We need to remember that preservation of the church is not the same thing as preservation of the truth.  So let us blow that horn and delete those dusty and dated membership roles.  It is time for a blank slate and a fresh start.

It is time to announce that our church is deleting its membership roles!

Concomitant with the announcement that membership roles are being deleted, the congregation will need to be reminded that membership in the church was never the goal.  The church might make an announcement that membership roles will not be kept any longer. In some cases, the church will be required by the denomination to keep track of members.  Perhaps a new membership class might be offered for all former members to attend before they are added to the membership roles.

The announcement that the roles are being deleted should be well in advance of the actual act of membership roll deletion.  The interval of time between the announcement and its execution will vary from one community to the next. Along with the announcement, the benefits of such a decision should be disclosed to the congregation.  For instance, with the universal purging of the roles, there would be no more inactive church members on the books just because they went through confirmation thirty years ago or because their parents were members. The process of removal would be uniform for everybody and not based on an annual review of attendance or financial contributions or ancestry.  The ground is level at the foot of the cross.

As a result of this announcement, the church would have the real opportunity to address what church membership really means and who is qualified. Are shut-in’s members?  In what way?  Are college graduates that have moved away members?  What about children or grandchildren that attend occasionally, but don’t give to the ministry of the church?  And what about those that give to the church but don’t attend?   Is there something more to church membership then showing up and shelling out?

Most church membership lists are comprised of both active and inactive members.  The rolls include those that have faithfully attended worship for five decades, and those that haven’t attended church for five years.  There are some previously active members that haven’t attended worship since they had their feelings hurt.  Some active attendees have never participated in a ministry of the church.  Some have served faithfully but have never contributed financially. 

Membership alteration is a prickly subject among parishioners.  Nobody likes to be pricked and it seems that nobody likes to have the membership roles deleted.  Even those members that haven’t been to church in years, or perhaps on only a couple of Sundays every year, are offended if the suggestion is made they be moved to the inactive list…let alone deleted from the roles altogether.  Deleting all the members at the same time removes from the equation any suggestion that favoritism is being employed.

The spiritually mature who do attend and contribute to the church on a weekly basis will understand.

They will understand that there are benefits to deleting the membership roles.  They know that members would be freed from being in bondage to the church and it would free the church from being in bondage to its members.  They can appreciate that being set free from memberships is not akin to being severed from faith but rather remembering the one who set us free. 

When the membership rolls are deleted the necessity in serving the church is removed. We would have a chance to submit fully to the Lord and discern what God would have us do.  Our focus can be re-centered on Christ.   

 Finally, announcing that the membership rolls are going to be deleted would force the congregation to ask, “What are we really counting?” 

Joab reported to the king the number of those who had been recorded; in Israel there were eight hundred thousand soldiers able to draw the sword, and those of Judah were five hundred thousand. But afterward, David was stricken to the heart because he had numbered the people. David said to the Lord, “I have sinned greatly in what I have done. But now, O Lord, I pray you, take away the guilt of your servant; for I have done very foolishly.” (2 Samuel 24:9-10)

Does numbering our members help or hinder our focus on and our faith in Jesus?  In counting our membership, are we acting wisely or foolishly?

We have seen people join the church.  We have seen them stand before God and everybody and promise to be faithful members of the church and drop out of membership just a few months later.  We have had young people go through confirmation, make a proclamation of faith, and then, just a few short years later, we never hear from them again. It is not uncommon for the membership roster—those counted as active members—to be twice current attendance.  Inactive membership, well, forget about it.

Remember how you became a member of the church? Prior to that event, you had an opportunity to study the word of God and in that process, discovered for yourself who Jesus Christ was and what it meant to have a relationship with Him.   After that period of study, you had an opportunity to profess your faith in Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior in front of the whole congregation.  You had not been baptized and at that point you were.  I had been baptized as a baby, but then I had the opportunity to profess my faith as well.  We entered into a covenant and we embraced the promise and promised to be involved in the work of His church. 

One of the first disciples put church membership this way: 

Coming to Him as to a living stone, rejected indeed by men, but chosen by god and precious, you also, as living stones, are being built up a spiritual house, a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 2:4-5)

In those days before Christ, only the priests were allowed to get close to God. Priests were chosen by God to come into his presence making sacrifices before God on behalf of the people.  In the temple ministry, only the priests could enter into Holy of Holies, into the very presence of God and minister on behalf of the masses outside that sacred place. 

In these days after his death and resurrection, we have that same opportunity.  Church membership is not about being served, but serving God.  Not just priests…but an entire priesthood. Church membership is about an official relationship with Christ, now available not just to the priests, but to all.  The membership is a gift we give to the Lord.  It is not a gift that we give to ourselves.  We don’t have any special privileges because we are new members, old members, or charter members. However, in our churches, membership does not always equal relationship.  Instead of membership being a call to service, it is often a call to be served.  “Membership has its benefits.”

Members have votes…and influence.  Members have discounted rates for weddings, free counseling, hospital visits, and funerals.

Fine. But church membership shouldn’t be the pinnacle of our relationship with Christ but rather the result of it.  Still we hesitate. We have been focused on membership for so long that we can’t imagine life without it. We worry and we stew about membership and we try to increase it, at least maintain it. And we panic when it begins to dwindle.  We sometimes surmise that when it increases, God must be pleased with our efforts. 

Certainly there is the risk that the church might lose some members to other churches if the roles are deleted.  But that is okay for the kingdom is bigger than our local congregations.  The sheep are free to follow God wherever God leads.  If we had the courage to delete our membership roles, I believe that the non-churched might be drawn to see this new thing that God is doing.  We don’t have to work harder at increasing our membership roles.  Membership, after all, is God's business:

And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved. (Acts 2:47b)

Congregational Sabbath. Less doing. More being.

Photo from www.sxc.hu #563301

Sabbath: The Dark Side of Sabbath

"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day." (Matthew 6:34)

I believe that Sabbath, at its root, is the practice of being unproductive.  And being unproductive is a difficult discipline to master for two main reasons: 

      1) We have to believe that there are benefits to being unproductive.

      2) We have to believe that the consequences of being unproductive are worth it.

The first difficulty could actually be described as the "Light Side of Sabbath." After all, there are positive outcomes to taking a break.  For example, when we stop working, we are given the freedom to do something that fills us up.  For some, this non-work-related activity may involve reading a good book or playing a musical instrument.  For my wife, being filled-up means doing something creative; writing or painting or working in the garden. For someone else, the best Sabbath activity is inactivity. There is a reason that ancient Sabbath included an entire 24-hours; an entire sleep cycle is automatically included. In a week where many people get up early and go to bed late, a normal period of sleep sounds like a dream.  There are benefits, we Christians believe, in being unproductive

However, this "Light Side of Sabbath" does come with a cost.  If we are unproductive for a whole day, or for even part of a day, if we take seriously the call to embrace this divine hedonism, we have to let go of all the things that will not get done.  We have to believe that the consequences of our inactivity are worth it.  Jesus put it this way, "Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself."  In other words, the unfinished bathroom is a small worry in light of rest and clarity of thought. The dust bunnies under the couch don't really matter in light of the thrill of playing with the children. The laundry that has filled the hamper to overflowing will not get washed because we believe that our time with a joyful Creator is more important.  

The logic is easy, the implementation is hard.

At least it was hard for me on Sunday. On Saturday, I didn't get as much done as I wanted to get done. Then, on Sunday, we woke up, we hurried up, and got to church. We stayed for Sunday School, and then we came home.  I was already way behind and the weekend was coming to a close. So, during the preparation of lunch, I recalled numerous projects that are in various stages of completion.  There was this sinking feeling that I just keep getting further behind.  My checkbook beckoned with an irresistible siren's song. The bathroom taunted with its exposed studs and bare plumbing.  But there is also another voice. One that isn't so shrill. One that invites me to let the day's own troubles be sufficient for the day.

It took some doing. I failed several times.  But I finally pulled myself away from the checkbook and embraced the Light Side. I visited with my wife.  I watched an incredible arm-wrestling match between my son and his best friend. I had a good visit with our sons and some of their good friends that they hadn't seen for a while. We talked in front of the fire and reconnected...with one another for sure, but also with God.

The bathroom and treehouse still call.  But they can wait until tomorrow.

Church Stopping. Less Doing. More being.

    

Time Away

The Inn at Glenstrae
Wichita, Kansas

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest." (Mark 6:31)

Jesus was speaking to his disciples after a particularly busy season of teaching and ministry, however he could have just as easily spoken these words to my wife today.  She is a minister, a mother, a chicken farmer, a sheetrocker, and a horticulturist...not to mention baker, chef, event planner, and chauffeur.  There are so many people coming and going..and she is always coming and going...that she seldom has a chance to eat.  

So I sent her away.

Well, I am only partially responsible.  You see, I sent her to a bed and breakfast where she had performed a wedding a couple of years ago.  For her services as officiant, she received a one-night stay for two.  The problem has been that there are five of us and the boys aren't quite old enough to be home alone.  So I sent her away, by herself. No children. No laundry. No cooking. No ministry. I understand that it was her work that made the rest possible, but it was my insistence that made her go.  For one night and for one morning, I would be chauffeur, baker, and chicken farmer. I promised that the boys would go to school fed and fully dressed.  I couldn't guarantee brushed teeth or combed hair...but I assured her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they would be wearing pants when they got on the bus.

The children were nervous.

And, at first, the couple that runs the bed and breakfast didn't understand. "You aren't staying with us?" They were use to romantic retreats.  I told them that this was romantic. What could be more romantic? I told them that this was a retreat for her...time to reconnect with who she is and who God created her to be. No children. No chickens. No trips to the store or to the kitchen.  Not this night. Instead, she listened to some special music, relaxed in a beautiful room, and worked on some projects that filled her up.

Jesus was there. 

And he is is there for us, not begging us to come or demanding us to go, but inviting us away and giving us permission to rest; to leave all those things...those good, good things...behind; to go to a quiet place and eat.

The question for us as individuals and as churches is not whether or not the invitation exists, but whether the faith exists that is required to let go and let our spouse take care of the children and let our Heavenly Father take care of his...and go, to a quiet place, get some rest, and be filled.

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.

Back to Work

(Sabbath work.)

You may ask, "What will we eat in the seventh year if we do not plant or harvest our crops?"

I will send you such a blessing in the sixth year that the land will yield enough for three years. (Leviticus 25:20-21)

Whosoever loses their life for my sake will find it.

(Matthew 16:25)

It is sometimes difficult to come back to work after Sabbath.  It's even more difficult to come back after a day off.  After a vacation, Monday seems like cruel and unusual punishment.

You might think that I would be ready and roaring to go, refreshed and rejuvenated and full of zeal for the task at hand.  After all, I have probably slept in.  On the other hand, I have also probably stayed up late.  I probably caught up with some things that needed to be done.  The truth be known, I probably have tried to pack more in to that one day, or two, or five than I normally would in a regular day that involves a regular work day. I confess that I often exchange one form of work for another.  In fact, I often need a vacation after my vacation.

We do the same thing in church. We spend four weeks getting ready for Christmas.  And there are special programs. Their is special music.  There are special decorations. All of this happens in addition to the normal, everyday running of the church.  But we hold on and make that final big push to the end and it is glorious! It all comes together on one Silent Night. In fact, it is so glorious that we sometimes have two, or three, or four (!) services on Christmas Eve because we just can't get enough harking.  And just when we thought we could take a breath, we add twelve days of Christmas and slog our way to Epiphany. We celebrate that the light has come but we don't feel very light on our feet.

Just as there is some wisdom in getting out of the house and away from the work and routine of a normal day, there is probably some wisdom in the church getting away from the work and routine of a normal week.  We try to cut back on the non-essentials, but what is non-essential is dependent on who you ask.  Perhaps it is easier to shutter the whole thing for a week, or even two.  "Let the fields lay fallow," we are told. "You'll reap triple the sixth year to make up the difference."  (my paraphrase)

Now, I don't know of any church that has taken a year off; completely shuttered the doors for a cycle around the sun; no ministries; no sermons; no VBS for one whole year.  I like the idea and wonder what would happen if we dared, it just hasn't caught on.  However, I do know of a church in rural Kansas that shut down for the entire month of August prior to installing air conditioning in the sanctuary. It was just too hot.  They got along just fine for decades. Of course, now they have air conditioning and must have services in the summer to pay the utility bill.  And then there was a church in New York City that shut its doors for three weeks every summer.  It was a brave thing to do. Radical. And life-giving. When they reconvened, they shared together what they had learned and where they had worshipped. And they were growing, just not fast enough to keep up with an old building and the cost of upkeep. Eventually, they closed their doors for good.

False Sabbath, in our personal lives and in our churches, merely exchanges one type of work for another. It replaces boredom with exhaustion.  True Sabbath, in our personal lives and in our churches, involves the death of an old way of life but the promise of new one.  There is a false way of living where nothing changes and a true way of life where nothing stays the same.  It is much easier to cling to the status quo, but this year may we all have the courage to embrace what is true.

Church Stopping. Less Doing. More Being.