Pastoral Reflections Upon the Week that Was

To my sisters and brothers at Saint John's,

Every entrance and exit into the community of faith makes an impact. We feel it. We know it. Presence is felt as well as absence.

People are born into our family of faith. There is something singularly exciting about babies born into the church.

People come to us searching for "sanctuary" and a place to practice their faith and they find it here. Nothing is more liberating than to see someone once wounded by religion finding a safe place to be and know they are a beloved child of God.

And people leave us.

For some, life's travels move them on to other places and they go to new cities hoping they will find another Saint John's.

There are some who find that what we offer, who we are, no longer feeds them and they make the decision to find another community in hopes that there is a place to provide the bread for which they hunger to nourish their souls. My deepest and abiding wish for these is two fold: one, that they find what they're looking for; and two, that as they take their leave, they do so in the peace of Christ and that those who remain pray Godspeed upon them.

And then there are those who leave us because their days here are accomplished. They move into that "cloud of witnesses" who cheer on those of us who remain.

Entrances and departures matter. No one matters more than any one else. We are each bound to the other.

You know, that whole "Blest be the tie that binds" thing? It is real.

That being said, though, our congregation cannot ignore, nor should it, the impact of last week on who we are. In what can only be described as a shot to our spiritual solar plexus, we lost four people.

We grieve the loss of Jean, Ed, Lucy and Dot.

Saint John's members of the recent past will not know Jean or Dot. Due to their health neither has been a part of the active life of the congregation for some years. The devotion of their Sunday School class to keep them in prayer and reach out to them is a witness for the rest of us for how to care for our people.

Any who have been a part of the past couple of years will know Ed. His presence was known in any setting. It mattered not what subject we were studying, he was ready, he took notes, he asked questions, and all of his questions had at heart the same root question - "how can I know God more deeply?"

And then there’s Lucy. Lucy was in worship three Sundays ago. The embodiment of a warrior, she fought to the end. She was a member of Saint John's for over 80 years. She loved her Church. She loved Luther, to whom she was wed for almost 70 years. This woman, short of stature, did nothing halfway. In far more ways that can be counted, she was a giant.

True to the faith we claim, we celebrate their place in The Church Triumphant.

They were part of what Tom Brokaw called "The Greatest Generation."

This generation knows what it means to rise up and meet life's challenges. They know what it means to work in "team" to reach their goals. They also have a particular approach to their discipleship.

When I came to Saint John's over seven years ago, I used the example of this generation as a template for our renewal. Believing that each of us teaches the rest of us, even to the end, I have thought and still think that this generation's last and best lesson for those who come after them is to instill a sense of purpose and devotion to our common ministry on this corner.

• It is this generation who decided to stay at Peabody and Bellevue.
• It is this generation who heard that the Queen was dead and heeded the clarion call of the pastor to embrace the role of a servant church through whom a resurrected life would spring forth.
• It is this generation who gave their assent to the notions of pastor/doctor from Atlanta who looking to start the Church Health Center.

And it is this generation who has cheered the loudest as, in the words of the Acts of the Apostles, "day by day the Lord added to their number."

Last week was a rough week. It got to where I was afraid to answer the phone for the news I'd hear. But I left last week thankful for our congregation, for the ways we reached out and remembered our folks.

What we are is a reflection of what they were.

What the next generations will be will reflect who we are now and the bold journeys in faith we make together.

Wherever ministry takes me I don't think I'll ever forget last week. I won't forget those last hours and minutes with Ed and Lucy, and neither will I forget the congregation who honored them so well.

A View from the Coast

Last week I was among 11 folks from Saint John's who traveled to Vancleave, Mississippi, to participate in work projects related to Hurricane Katrina.

Katrina? Isn't that old news? Hardly. Folks down there are still talking years, as in 3-5, before they're done.

Katrina? Aren't we late to the game on this? After all, that happened so long ago. Maybe. But don't forget this - while this is our first time to go to the Coast to deal with the impact of Katrina on folks down there, we must never forget that Katrina came to us in the days following the storm, as we housed 30 survivors for over 4 months at Nelson Woods.

And so we went - a group that represented Saint John's in all its diversity. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

Our job for the two days we worked? To continue the rehabilitation of Retha's house. Retha lives outside of Lucedale. Her home had some significant issues. We painted, inside and out; we did plumbing and ripped out the bathroom. There were septic tank issues. Carpentry was needed.

And we 11 tackled it, as best we could, head on.

Although the days were long and tiring, to a person, I believe we'd say it was a blessing. Retha's face glowed not only with appreciation for the work being done, but with stunning gratitude when she was presented the prayer quilt that you had prayed over.

A few comments and then an anecdote:

I was impressed with the work and organization of the Mississippi Conference in this effort. Vancleave UMC, is just like any of a number of rural United Methodist Churches across the country. The difference is that just behind this church is this huge building that is part barracks and part warehouse for material to be taken for work projects. It was very well run and I was reminded of the words from the folks at UMCOR when I dealt with them in '99 during the first of what is now too many tornadoes to strike the Jackson area: "we won't be the first ones on the ground, but we will be the last ones to leave."

Churches from all the country have been to Vancleave to offer help. It was truly impressive. However, I grew weary pretty quickly of being told that our group is not typical in that we were only working a weekend when most groups come on a Sunday and leave on a Saturday. First off, you don't need to tell me that a group from Saint John's is not typical.

To that I say, "Amen, praise the Lord." But any of you who know me understand how little patience I have for being told "how we do usually do things." Sure, we should always be willing to adhere to the patterns, if not "liturgy," that goes before us. I'm all for that. But in this instance, although I don't think it was on purpose, it was easy to communicate our presence and our work was less important than a group who had been there all week. I reject that out of hand. Our presence and willingness to do what the moment required be it one day or two weeks is the same. It is the "giving" that is the sign of Christ alive in us. We can't quantify gifts and grace. It was a point I felt needed to be made to our group before we left.

We learned the value to doing our part, having taken up the task from those who had done work before us, and, passing on the work to be completed to those who come behind us. It's a lesson of stewardship and the continuity and interdependency on the body of Christ. And that was an issue, because we each were tempted to fall prey to that Protestant work ethic thing that WE have to finish what WE started.

The people there were very warm and understood that this "mission" was there opportunity and responsibility. I appreciated that very much, and know all too well that a congregation with a "mission" is one that is vital and alive.

And now the story -

On the last day, with just a couple of hours to go before we called it a day, and, with plenty more left to do, I, while cutting a notch in some drywall for the bathroom, because I was squeezed into an awkward position, and in a hurry, did the stupid thing that I have warned others not to do, and turned the razor blade toward me to cut the last bit of sheetrock.

It went through the last bit of sheet rock, of course, and across my forearm, where it opened about an inch and a half gash. It was obvious from the moment it happened that this was more than a band aid deal.

Retha, the one for whom we worked, had just arrived home from her place of employment. She was in housekeeping services for the George County General Hospital. She drove her truck, while Jaime Winton (almost six month pregnant Jaime Winton), drove and we followed her to the hospital.

So, in we walked to the emergency room. Me, absolutely filthy, and holding the laceration together along with some Steri-strips that Steve put on it, and "mama to be," who was our team leader, and had all the UMVIM insurance info.

It wasn't until I was being triaged that the hospital staff assumed that Jaime was "Mrs. Jeffords." I mean, after all, she came in with me, she had my information, and she was concerned for me, and, she was very pregnant!

When they moved me from triage to an ER bay, they said, "if your wife can check you in, we'll get you cleaned up." Jaime dealt with all of that, out front, and I decided it wasn't worth telling the whole story of who we were and why we were there. I just wanted to get sewn up and on my way.

Well, after the 3rd or so reference to "my wife," I decided I just needed to tell the story. But I led into it in a way that could have mis-communicated what was true. I said, "Oh, she's not my wife."

The look I got from the nurse seemed to say, "Oh, so, you got her knocked up but you're not going to make an honest woman out of her."

And then I said, "I'm her pastor." The next look I got did not indicate clarity, but confusion bordering on disgust.

Little did I know that at the same time out front, Jaime is having the same issue trying to communicate who she is, who I am, and what we're doing there.

"Oh, he's my preacher."

More confusion.

After a while, we each, in our own way, told the story of who we were and why we were there. After we got back into the car, I told Jaime of the confusion and the looks I had received when I decided not to let the assumptions they had about us continue. She laughed and said she had to do the same thing.

Moral of that story - never assume you know anything based on what you see, or, beware of what happens when you travel with your preacher!

Fertile Soil

It's been a pretty remarkable month here at Saint John's.

Think about it. In the last month, we've rightly celebrated Epiphany on January 6, the 12th day of Christmas. That doesn't happen that often. May not matter to you, but for those of us charged with planning worship, it's a gift, believe me.

We've heard a sermon preached by a candidate for ministry preparing to come before the Board of Ministry to be commissioned as a Deacon in The United Methodist Church. And true enough, Renee's gifts and graces are profound additions to the ministry of Saint John's. Matched with that sermon she preached was our annual observance of baptismal remembrance on "Baptism of the Lord" Sunday - an opportunity to reclaim our vows and chart our course aright in the new year.

We've had the extraordinary honor to have had one of the most influential figures in my ministry come to be a part of our worship. To have Bishop Ken Carder among us was itself a gift. In the day and time in which we live, to hear a bishop speak so clearly and prophetically was as a wellspring in an arid land.

To hear an ecclesiology and Christology from the Wesleyan perspective, after its conspicuous absence, made my little Methodist heart skip a beat or two. To have him preside at Table - cool off the charts if you live in my world. You all heard me say of him before he came that he is my Yoda. Those of you who are of the "Star Wars" mythology will know that it's not until the prequel movies that we understood just how ably Yoda could, uh, take care of business, if you know what I mean. . . so it is with Ken - he can get it done.

All of which is to say, and I hope you see this - what is happening on this corner is fertile soil. It is fertile in two notable ways. I've heard from many who have told me that it is this congregation that they feel at home, that they can grow, at last, spiritually. And, this is the place that is becoming an incubator for ministry to be launched from and into the church at large.

That is, we are becoming a "teaching congregation." There are those who seek to be engaged in ministry who desire to be here, if, for no other reason, to get a feel for how to be "church" in an urban setting, and do so unafraid of difference and embrace it instead.

What a remarkable thing - fertile soil - and get ready, church, for what grows!

"There Is a Season" Part Six of a Series of Sermons Based upon Parker Palmer's "Let Your Life Speak"

3For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: 2a time to be born, and a time to die;a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; 3a time to kill, and a time to heal;a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4a time to weep, and a time to laugh;a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6a time to seek, and a time to lose;a time to keep, and a time to throw away; 7a time to tear, and a time to sew;a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8a time to love, and a time to hate;a time for war, and a time for peace.

For these many weeks we have lived with this remarkable little book. I am amazed at the capacity of those mentors of mine, who, through their writings – those voices I gravitate toward – they seem to get said what they want to say, and, what I most need to hear, in about 100 – 150 pages. An economy of words – people like Parker Palmer and Henri Nouwen. And yes, while Frederick Buechner often goes beyond that mark, anything he writes is worth reading. These authors, and others like them, with concise language, makes the language of my own heart stir. Their words fill in the blanks of my own life experiences – those things I’m trying to make sense of, but have yet to find words – they help me to do that.

Today, this book concludes with the parallels to the scripture that was read. I can’t think of or hear Ecclesiastes 3 without a couple of pop culture images coming into my mind. That great song from the 60’s written by Pete Seeger and recorded by The Byrds, “To everything turn, turn, turn – there is a season turn, turn turn.”

Or, if you were in the movie house in the late 1980’s and saw a 27 year old Kevin Bacon, acting like he’s sixteen, standing before the city council of a Midwestern community reading that text to justify why the senior class of their high school should have a dance – then you know about Footloose.

Given the musical talent of our congregation, we may have needed to add both songs to our order or worship today!

Whenever you hear this text, before we lay it over Palmer’s words, let us consider this – in hearing these words of the extremes of life’s experience – we tend to think that somehow the scripture is giving us license to hate, to kill, to wage war. The Bible says its there and that there is a time for it. And it sits counterbalanced to its opposite. So, we think that we can be good for a time but then there will be a time when we won’t have to be so good and the decision to be anything other than that is biblically sanctioned because “there is a time” for it.

If you’ve ever lived with that notion, I hope that today we can dispel that. Because if the Wisdom Literature of the Hebrew Bible, and this reading in particular, allows us to know the truth of the human experience. Within the totality of our living, there will be times when any and all of these elements are present. And the truth is, even as we act them out, the best of us and the worst of us, it is understood that we are never apart from God’s presence, and neither has God relinquished any sovereignty over all that God has made and is creating.

Just a couple a sentences to hit the “reset” button so that you’ll know where we are in this series of sermons.
· The overarching question is this – is the life you are living the one your life wants to live – which is to say are you living in a way that befits how you were created? The way God made you? Have you embrace the gift, the birthright, the vocation that God has made for you and you alone as mantle to accept, to pick up and live out.
· Vocation, as we recall from Frederick Buechner’s words is that place where your deepest joys intersect with the world’s greatest needs. And that’s a sermon itself, folks, that we should always come back to. Because wherever that intersection is, which, strangely enough, takes the shape as any intersection does, that of a cross, pinpoints where you are called to be, to minister, to serve. It’s not a question of whether or not you are called to be clergy, although I do believe God does call some people to do that, otherwise what have I been doing for 20 years – Vocation and call are not the exclusive property of those of us who sit on this side of the chancel rail and adorn ourselves with flowing garments. You have a call to embrace, a vocation to claim, and to use the language of brother Charles Wesley, “A Charge to Keep.”
· Finding it though, is a hard thing – because to find that call requires that you plumb the depths of your our own heart and life, into those places you dare not go, at least not willingly or gladly, but once there you discover that God resides there, too, to make you face the truth of who you really are – and what your capacities to serve, to live, to be are.
· Sometimes that means, then, that we have to go “all the way down” to discover the One who was always there not to get us out of our moment of peril, but through it.

And so, today, we talk about the seasons. Palmer, in such beautifully descriptive fashion talks about the seasons, framed in no small part, by his own life experiences of living in the upper Midwest, where the seasons of the year reach extremes, particularly the winters.

Within our own spiritual journeys, we can resonate with that. He starts with Autumn – that place of duality, where outward expressions of life are glorious, as in the colors of the trees, yet it is that color that tells us the truth of what else is going on – there is something in us given way. There is something in us that is falling. There is something in us that is letting go – even getting ready to die.

As harsh as that may sound, Palmer tells us that we should not shirk from the autumns of life because the very seeding that will come, one spring day, breaking forth in new life, is a result of what has happened in autumn. How beautiful, yet, how profound. Some of you will travel great distances, no too long from now, to go to places where the colors are stunning and vivid. So, too, how is it for us in the expression of our living – what we show on the outside does not hide what is falling, letting go, even dying on the inside – and we are not fearful. For if we believe it to be true that with every door that closes, another opens, you have to believe that within your own heart, wherever you are and whatever you’re going through – whatever in you is dying, there is life in you yet to emerge.

Palmer then moves into winter. And winter, where he’s from, is at least harsh. He even comments about of friend of his who says he’s pretty sure that winter in the upper Midwest is Divine retribution because somebody up there must have done something really wrong. It is rough – cold, snow, wind. Hard to endure.

But we know a little something of the winters of our lives, too don’t we? And the same characteristics of a harsh winter up north hold true to the winters of our living. We know what this is. We’ve all been through them.

But then Palmer some counsel used by those who physically live in such climates. How do they make it through the rough winters?
Palmer speaks of winter’s greatest gift – “winter speaks its greatest gift with the sky is clear, the sun is brilliant, the trees are bare and the first snow has not yet come. It is the gift of utter clarity.”
The winter seasons of our lives, in parallel to that – there is no pretense in the winter, all has fallen, there is no cover – so, too, when you have been laid bare by spiritual winters do you discover, without pretense, the ground into which you have been planted.
The ground of being.
The soil of the Spirit.
Is it nurturing us, and how deeply rooted are we?
For the life that remains, in the winters of our being, is found not at the surface, but the rootedness that lies deeply within.
Palmer says that in the upper Midwest, where he’s from, the counsel given to any newcomer into that climate is that winter will drive you crazy, until you “learn to get out into it.” There’s a whole market of “winter-wear” encouraging people to get out in the midst of winter and live, otherwise, you go “stir-crazy” from saying inside.
What great counsel – whatever the winters are, in your spirit, don’t hold up, but get out there and walk through it.

From there, we move into spring. That season of new birth, new life – emerging from the muck and mire of winter’s thawed mess shoots out new beginnings of every conceivable kind.

When we lay that thought over the Ecclesiastes reading, we start to get where Palmer’s going – he says:
Spring teaches me to look more carefully for the green stems of possibility. For the intuitive hunch that may turn into larger insight. For the glance or touch that may thaw a frozen relationship. For the stranger’s act of kindness that makes the world seem hospitable again.

No wonder we feel so alive in spring.
No wonder we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord in spring.
No wonder the sense of the Spirit blossoms afresh in the springs of our being.

From there the seasons bring us back around to summer. And summer, where Palmer’s from, is glorious. He calls it a time of abundance. It’s a place where the fruit of the gardener’s labor is shared. It is understood that the good work done is meant to be shared with all. It is the place where community thrives.

Now, how all that fits with you, through this series, is really up to you. I don’t know what season you are in. I don’t know where you are relative to discovering God’s call for you – your vocation, but this I do know, you have one. No one is exempt. It is your be claimed. It is your birthright.

Congregations have seasons, too. I’ve thought about that this week. And I thought about 30something years ago when Frank McRae preached, “The Queen is Dead.” Those of you who are hear who heard it for the first time; I don’t know how you took it. Was it a relief? Was it powerful? Was it offensive? Preachers have a way of doing all of that at the same time, and Frank was pretty good at that. Perhaps that was a winter moment for Saint John’s, for the truth laid bare must be spoken. But the seeds of new life were planted by learning to give ourselves away differently, but embracing the life of the Servant.

We are in the spring of that winter. There is new life all around us. Not to be boastful, but to be thankful. Because death does not mean that life does not yet come. In a congregation, in your spiritual walk, in our life together – for everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

I hope that you are finding your call. I as put this series to a close, the conversations continue, for we have much to do to be about the good work of God’s kingdom.

Let Your Life Speak - There Is a Season

Part six and the last of the series - and, as last week, a transcript will appear within a couple of days.

Urban Strategy

Last week was quite a few days for Methodism in the city.

You may not have known that, or recognized it. The only local press on the event didn't quite capture what was going on (o.k. they missed it big time), and the only photo was yet another picture of the remains of the First Church building downtown.

Now, I don't want to diminish the impact of losing that historic building has had on the city - and especially so for the congregants of First Church, who really are First Church - but, c'mon, CA, there are more United Methodist churches in Memphis than First Church and, of course, all the press that is seemingly necessary when a new guy shows up at the little chapel on Poplar Avenue.

Oh yes I did.

So, what was it? This thing that happened last week that was launched in our very own L.P. Brown Fellowship Hall? Well, that's a really good question - and I'm still working on an answer. But here's what I can say.

We met, talked, prayed, toured communities all over the city in which we currently have United Methodist congregations.

United Methodists in Memphis, like so many urban centers, suffer from either inability, incapacity, and, in some cases, unwillingness to minister to those they find within their communities. It's something not unique to Methodists, but since that's the world I know, I'll speak to it.

In a rare instance of true leadership - the Memphis Annual Conference has asked that a 20 year strategy for Methodism be formed. Informed and shaped, in no small part, by the proven leaders of Methodist Healthcare, a team of clergy, laity, and denominational leaders were in the city last week to begin the task of articulating this strategy.

Now a true critic (not that I know any : ) would say that such an effort is at least 20 years late - but that perspective negates the reality of the moment, and the true belief that God has the capacity to work in and through God's people that will surprise us still - and I, for one, am holding hope that the winds of the Spirit will yet blow.

And we're going to need a whole lot of the Spirit's leading to be faithful to the task before us. We had representatives from every General Board of the church (even a couple of General Secretaries) present at these days of discernment and planning. At first, I thought they had come to tell us how to do it, but it became clear really quickly, that they don't know how to do it, either. They're hoping God uses our efforts to do something of meaning that they program into other urban centers where ministry is languishing.

Now here's what I want folks from Saint John's to know. Not only are we well represented on the team that will come up with this strategy, Saint John's will play a vital role in announcing the Good News of Jesus Christ through the United Methodist Church.

And while we'll be a part of the connectional effort to stabilize and revitalize the Methodist witness to the city - I say we don't need to wait for some larger strategy.

We already have one. What is it?

By doing what we do, and not apologizing for it - not boasting, but inviting - and always being willing to accept the challenge that comes with the true, radical hospitality of the Gospel - -

May God bless our efforts and may we be found faithful in them.

Transcript - LET YOUR LIFE SPEAK - Part 5 "Leading from Within"

As promised -

Parker Palmer tells a story of his own life’s experience that I will attempt to convey to you now. Coming out of a season of some depression in his mid-40’s in one of those “all the way down” moments that we have talked about previously – he thought that to shake himself out of it that he would go into a program called Outward Bound, which took place on Hurricane Island off the coast of Maine.

Upon further reflection, he thought that he would have been better served having gone to something called “Happy Time” rather than Outward Bound.

He talks about being out there at the summit of a cliff, some 110 feet above the surface. The leader tied a rope around his waist – a rope he was pretty sure has ill-kempt and likely fraying – and, according to him, begins to push him off this cliff, or push him backwards – and he finds that he’s hanging off the edge of the cliff with his body banging up against the wall of the cliff.

He has no control over his movement, and asks, “What do I do now?”

The instructor said, “The only way down now is for you to lean all the way back so that your body is at a right angle to the cliff and your weight will then be at your feet.”

Palmer was pretty sure that was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do, because it is so counter intuitive.

So, he argues that the best way down is really for him to hug the wall of the cliff and work his way down – but the result of that effort was continually losing control and banging again against the wall of the cliff.

Finally, he decides to take the counsel of those above him and leans all the way back only to discover they were right, and he had manageable control with his feet, where otherwise he would have none.

Working his way down and reaching about half way, he hears the voices from below warning him that he needed to look below him at where he was headed. You see, his pattern of descent was leading him toward an opening in the cliff wall.

He was trying to figure out if he could maneuver around it to the right or left, and now he’s panic stricken – what does he do?

About that time, he hears the voice from below that asks him, “would you like to hear our motto for Outward Bound?”

He says, “I’m hanging here on a cliff and you want to give me your motto?”

And the motto, simply, is this – “If you can’t get out of it, get into it.”

Which went from some pithy saying to a maxim to live by as he descended this cliff. Palmer uses that as a metaphor for what would spring forth for this chapter of his book

We’ve been using Parker Palmer’s book, Let Your Life Speak, as a guide through which to understand the holy things of God and how our lives, yours and mine, have a vocation to embrace.

Thus far, we’ve been encouraged to listen to our lives – for in the deepest parts of our being there is a call of God - a life, a vocation – a gift, a birthright, from the Divine that is for you to claim.

That vocation is the place where your deepest joys intersect the world’s deepest needs.

But that call, while present, is rarely discovered on the surface of our lives – it lives in the deepest recesses of our beings – the place where pain and shadows dwell, those places we never go to gladly, and avoid at all costs –

Today, we hear about leading from within. And the word “leadership” now begins to emerge in our conversations, for, as he has discovered, and, clearly, as the Scriptures indicate, as in the call of Jeremiah, we turn to leadership by turning inward.

And if you go inward, downward and through enough you realize that your life and your world is not about “you,” but it is about how you serve those in the world with you.

Palmer says,

“Great leadership comes from people who have made that downward journey through violence and terror, who have touched the deep place where we are in community with each other, and who can help take the rest of us to that place. That is what great leadership is all about.”

The Christian world has been abuzz this week. It appears that Mother Teresa of Calcutta had some spiritual angst. How could that be?

But truthfully, I found no more validation for faith than that story. Have we not always held her up as a paragon for all other comparisons? I mean, you might think you’ve done some good stuff in your life – but you ain’t no Mother Teresa! Right?

And her she was, this woman, this servant of God, who dealt for years with the dark nights of her soul wondering about life, about God – but notice through all the struggle, what never stopped – being the hands and feet of Christ for the broken in the world.

Her struggle, whatever it was, never stifled outward expression – day in and day out.

Can you believe it’s made the news this week? Mother Teresa had faith crisis issues, and I say “thank God,” she’s human. She lived her life. I have faith crisis issues, too, does that mean that I might yet be o.k.?

Isn’t it interesting? Some will make judgments of whether or not she qualifies for sainthood based upon these questions. I say, make it so, now – there’s no question of what her faith and life have been.

Not for her, now, but for you. Have you wondered how you are called to lead? The quote from the book earlier read tells you, you lead, whether you think you do, or not. By what you do or don’t do, say, or don’t say – leads others to understand what you think is important.

As you live your life, as you participate in your workplace, your family, your church, you city, the world – leadership is present whether you think it is, or not.

Parker calls upon the work of Annie Dillard to focus on this issue of leadership. And if you are called upon to begin our leadership from within, we must recognize the monster with which we must wrestle while we are in that inward journey.

The first is Insecurity – who am I really? Does what I have to offer, to contribute, really matter? Listen again to the call of Jeremiah – listen again to any call of God in the Scriptures and you hear elements of insecurity. It usually comes out as “me? God? Me? Really? Can’t you find somebody else?” Who am I to do that thing you call me to?

The second monster we must battle is what he calls the “hostile universe.” The reason, he suggests, that we shirk from leadership is that we are sure that everybody’s out to get us – it’s rough out there, not for the timid – so, do I engage the world or not?

The next is functional atheism – the only way to get something done is to do it ourselves. And then, he notes, ironically, you know who the worst people are at this - People of faith. Church people. Isn’t it amazing that people who think and use God language in their life and liturgy, when it comes down to believing that there is something more in the world to occur than we, ourselves can construct, that we can believe that God is the one who can make it happen?

Can we ever really surrender and believe that God is able to do something far greater than we could do on our own. And I know what you’re thinking, because I live there, too – is not the standard motto we live with, whether we speak it aloud, or not, that if “you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.” Right?

There may be some wisdom in that, but truthfully, such a posture eliminates others’ opportunities to lead.

The other two are this - fear and denial of death.

Fear is fairly obvious, for if you are called to lead, especially in the face of something new, it is a scary proposition. Fear cripples so much of what a spirit could be.

Denial of death is believing that if I work hard enough, and if I do it the right way, whatever the thing is I am a part of will live on forever. But just as we die, so do systems and structures. They have a death – and how often do we leave them on life support, when we really ought to let them go, but believing, as people of faith, by the way, that, just as we do for we humans, so, too, that if we give ourselves up, we will be resurrected by the power of God through Jesus Christ into a new creation.

Do you think of yourself as a leader. Palmer said of himself that he never saw himself as president of anything. Man, I get that, I really do, but you know, I do lead. Everyday, I’m announcing something of what I believe in by how I live. Not only by what words come from my mouth, but by what choices I make. I’m leading – always. And so are you.

In the 20th century, one of the great leaders thrust into the forefront of change who didn’t expect, or look for it, but embraced the moment was Vaclav Havel. Palmer quotes him briefly, and so shall I:

The power for authentic leadership…is found not in external arrangements, but in
the human heart. Authentic leaders in every setting – from families to nation states – aim at liberating the human heart, their own and others, so that it’s power can liberate the world.

What is it that you and I seek to be as leaders within the Realm of God? Is not the word of Jesus from Luke 4, when he calls upon the words of Isaiah not that for which we are called to lead?

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind,to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’

Right here! Right now!

You and I are called to lead from within, and we are called to go places within ourselves to find that vocation that might scare us a bit. But you’re never going to fully know what God has for you as vocation until you take that inward journey.

I close with a brief word by William Stafford – a poem titled “The Way It Is.”

There’s a thread you follow.

It goes among things that change.

But it doesn’t change.

People wonder about what you are pursuing.

You have to explain about the thread.

But it is hard for others to see.

While you hold it you can’t get lost.

Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die;

and you suffer and get old.

Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.

You don’t ever let go of the thread.

LET YOUR LIFE SPEAK - Part 5 "Leading from Within"

No manuscript to peruse before Sunday.

After a week’s hiatus, to allow one of my colleagues time in the pulpit to fulfill ordination requirements, I return to finish this six week exploration of Parker Palmer’s book Let Your Life Speak.

If you know anything about me, you are stunned to disbelief that the previous four sermons in the series have prompted me to write four distinct manuscripts.

I wanted and needed to do that. I stood in the high and lifted up pulpit of the Saint John’s sanctuary and offered these sermons. Not my usual m.o. – but something I felt brought validation to liberating word of the Gospel as understood through these very focused words of Parker Palmer.

For the last two – it’s time to do what I more normally do – acknowledge the pulpit’s presence, or course, but stand among the people to encourage and proclaim the God given vocation that resides in each of us to be lived into – fulfilled.

To do that – I use an outline, hardly anything I’d want to put on a blog post – but if you are among those who have followed the series, I will covenant to post a transcript of what is preached.

In addition – mp3 files of the series thus far are available our the church’s website www.stjohnsmidtown.org.

LET YOUR LIFE SPEAK - Part 4 "All the Way Down"

Part four of a sermon series based upon Parker Palmer's "Let your Life Speak."

The text employed for this homily is the Suffering Servant text of Isaiah 53

Who has believed what we have heard? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? 2For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground;he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. 3He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering* and acquainted with infirmity;and as one from whom others hide their faces* he was despised, and we held him of no account. 4Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases;yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. 5But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities;upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed.

I read recently the great fear that has most of Hollywood quaking in their collective boots – High Definition Television. The picture is so clear, so vivid, that the mirage of Hollywood perfection is exposed for the sham that it is and people whose projected image looks one way through traditional television – with filters and fuzzy resolution – have every pore - every “flaw” on display for all to see – the more the resolution, the sharper the image, the greater clarity to see people for who they really are. Whether it’s one actresses bad nose job, or another actor’s hairpiece – or just the amount of “make-up” some have to wear to keep up with their image – it is a frightening thing - In a world where physical beauty and image is everything – HD could well be the Hollywood stars’ kryptonite.

I don’t blame these folks – their livelihood is dependant upon a projected image – and we, the culture, obviously expect that. We pay for it, we emulate it, we have made an industry out of knowing who is doing what with whom and when. Truth is, we’re not sure we want to see these folks for who they really are. In the magic of movies and television – our actors pretend to be someone they are not. And we willingly suspend our disbelief and go along for the ride.

When the flaws turn from the external to the internal – things start getting a little dicey. When that happens to people in the spotlight, our star gazing become voyeurism as someone spins out of control in front of the public eye. With that may come sadness for what we observe – but also a little relief that there is no great audience looking in at us when we’re the one who is spinning.

We’re now beginning the home stretch of this series of sermons on Parker Palmer’s book, Let Your Life Speak. Last week we learned something about what happens in life when the way we’re on closes. So conditioned are we to keep on knocking on the doors of life that have closed that we forget to turn round to see the rest of the world that God has opened for us to pursue, to live, and to discover our Divine vocation – that life we are to live in which our God-inspired deep joys intersect with the deep needs of the world around us. Palmer reminds us that when way closes – rest assured, way will open – maybe not in the way we expect (and you can probably count on that) – but way will open. God will make a way. But will you take it?

But then there’s this – just because way has closed and way will open once, it doesn’t mean that’s it. We’re good. We’ve had our quota of what we hoped for being dashed only to find a new reality to embrace. Way closes in life again and again and again.

Sometimes the toll such a thing exacts on the spirit is something we can manage – and other times it knocks us to our knees leaving us unsure we’ll ever get up again. – a bruised spirit is a painful and debilitating thing.

You know of what I speak –

• unexpected death;
• loss of professional and vocational identity;
• victimization at the hands of the powerful;
• death of your lifelong dream;
• irreparably fractured relationships.
  

Like a shot to the spiritual solar plexus; these things leave us heaving for breath and believing we’re unable to draw in the breathe of God.

In Palmer’s story – he acknowledges with great vulnerability the crippling depression that resulted when way closed down for him. The stuff of his story is revealing and I commend it to you for your reading – but we need not read of someone else’s journey through the dark nights of their souls –

We know this dark place. Some of us have been in it, including yours truly, and some of us may be languishing there now.

As people of God, the Church, we have a tendency to place so much value on the Mountain top experiences of the spiritual life. It is as if we make such experiences the requisite encounters with God bringing validation that we’ve made it. If we know Jesus,

• we won't be down
• we won’t be blue,
• we won’t wonder what this journey is all about,
• we won’t question,
• we’ll be sure we have nothing in common with the Psalmist whom Jesus himself quoted from the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me.”
• we’ll just “smile, be happy, “ and, in the words of Monty Python – “Always look on the bright side of life,”

Well, if that’s the Christian illusion you want to live with – if that’s the projected image you want to claim like a Hollywood superstar – that’s fine – but it’ll cost you. Because life has a way of clarifying Truth despite our efforts to hide Truth. Like HD for the soul, we can run, but we can’t hide.

Too much of religion is based on such foolishness – negating the reality of life where we live it. The places where we fall all the way down – those rock bottom, wilderness wandering – valleys of the shadow of death – these are the places from which healing emerges.

And if I read Palmer right, while he might agree that we might find God on the Mountaintop experiences, we only really know God through the sufferings of our living. For it is there that God dwells, seeks to heal, and sets us forth to serve.

Palmer reflects upon his friend, Henri Nouwen and his seminal work The Wounded Healer,

"After all my attempts to articulate the predicament of contemporary
humanity, the necessity to articulate the predicament of the ministers
themselves became most important. For ministers are called to
recognize the sufferings of their time in their own hearts and to make that
recognition the starting point of their service."

Now hear me, we're not being asked to suffer someone else's pain. We're not being asked to take on the wounds of Christ as as our own.

We don’t need to take on the wounds of Christ for the world. We need to own our own wounds through which the reality of the God who heals is made known. In fact, you can’t really and truly know the One who sets you free until you own exactly what it is that enslaves you. From that - we know where ministry to and with the broken of the world emerges - for we, ourselves are broken.

Finding God through our pain – our wounds. May not sound joyful, but it is real, it is deep – it is that Tillichian “ground of our being” – and for any and all of us free-falling into the chasm of spiritual uncertainty, hear me – stop looking upward hoping against hope that God might swoop down from the heavens and spare you this hell you’re going through – when God is already standing in the deepest part of your deepest valley waiting to catch you and guide you back home.

A few days ago I got a call from my mother. It came about 10 o’clock in the evening, pretty late for her to call and usually in that black out period in which I’m not interested in hearing the phone ring at all. And, if it does, it means something has happened. We were talking a bit about Jack’s upcoming birthday party, and then she tells me of Brian. Brian, a friend of mine from the age of 4-6. He and his brother Craig lived just across the field from our house in Charlotte, Tennessee. Loretta and Roy, Brian’s parents, great people, who helped raise me in those days while dad was going to Vandy to seminary, serving as pastor to 5 churches. Just my sister and me in those days, although Jimmy arrived while we were there. I saw Loretta and Roy a little over a year ago when they attended my parents’ 50th anniversary party. Hadn’t seen them in over 35 years. In my life, they are confined to a particular time and place – and no real transcendent relationship unrestrained by the itinerancy – that thing we preacher’s families struggle with.

Mom wanted me to know that their son, Brian, someone I have not seen since the very early 1970’s, had died. He was 42. And then she said, “your father and I are going to the funeral.” I said, “o.k.,” and then she said it again in a way that said to me, “we know this pain – this pain of losing a child - and we’ve got to go.”

A resonant pain in someone else that moves you into action – sounds like the beginning of life – the beginning of ministry.

No image to project – no pain to protect – just the trust that comes from one’s own pain that is healing pushing us into the company of those who hurt.

Palmer closed this chapter with a poem he wrote called Harrowing as do I this homily -

The plow has savaged this sweet field
Misshapen clods of earth kicked up
Rocks and twisted roots exposed to view
Last year’s growth demolished by the blade
I have plowed my life this way
Turned over a whole history
Looking for the roots of what went wrong
Until my face is ravaged,
furrowed, scarred
Enough, The job is done.
Whatever’s been uprooted, let it be
Seedbed for the growing that’s to come
I plowed to unearth last
year’s reasons—
The farmer plows to plant a greening season.

LET YOUR LIFE SPEAK - Part 3 "When Way Closes"

I was fired from my first church job.

I was 19, a junior at Memphis State, two years into my candidacy for ordination – that’s right, I started this when I was 17 – and my first church job – “let go.”

It only lasted six months – a youth director at a church just south of the state line. I wanted to be relevant, and they wanted a glorified baby sitter, or at least some template for youth work back then that I didn’t fit.

Something about that in my make up - I guess. Don’t fit the mold? For better and worse, I am what I am.

Anyway, feeling the abject failure that I’m sure I was, I holed up in my bedroom for a couple of weeks wondering – what the heck am I doing and am I going to do with my life. I’ve declared my intent to be an Elder in the Church, and my first chance to express that call – I get canned. Hmmm. Time to give a serious thought of sending my vocal résumé to Chicago because word was that Peter Cetera was about to venture out on his solo career – and they were going to need somebody who could handle those high vocals for ‘em. I was their man. No doubt.

Oh, who was I kidding. So, in the midst of my ontologically angst-ridden, flights of fancy pity party, my dad came to see me – which is to say he opened my bedroom door because I lived with my parents in the parsonage of Grace Church in Whitehaven.

And I’ve never forgotten what he told me – when I deserved a kick in the backside – he shared something so stunningly grace-full it took me aback. – “Son, you have no idea how many times I have failed in ministry. . .” And I didn’t. And what I had observed was a deeply gifted and committed pastor all my life – to hear of failure was stunning. It is truly a means of grace to share your failures with someone - it is honest, and it makes our common humanity all the more real.

I obviously got through that season, thanks to a call I received only a few weeks later from Harrell Townsend, and I went to Whitehaven Church and experienced one of those moments in which call (joy and deep need were joined) was validated.

So here we are with part three of this sermon series on at Parker Palmer’s “Let Your Life Speak,” let me offer this reset on where we’ve been –

Each of us is made in the image of God – and we each have value because we are loved by God. What’s more – we are each have a calling to fulfill. This calling is our birthright to be discovered and embraced. It is not a matter of our will to make ourselves become something – it is a matter of receiving that gift and be good stewards of it.

Building upon our previous conversation – we know we have Divine value, we are beautifully and wonderfully made, we know that we have a calling to fulfill the determining factor of that call is discovering our deepest joy in life and matching it with the deepest need we see around us.

It all sounds so good – it’s almost too simple. “It’s easy for you to say that, preacher, you’ve already found yours.”

Which is not entirely true – See, there is a kinetic nature to this call, this gift. It is not fixed once for all – it evolves, its character moves as does the seasons of life and the needs of the world to which my deepest joy might fulfill. So, it is more accurate to say of those whom it would be far too easy to say “they’ve found theirs,” is that we are finding ours.

One of the greatest fallacies in the spiritual world is that knowing you are called and living into that call will be easy. And if you’ve ever found it troubling, frustrating, anger-making, to discover who you are and what you are to be – sister, brother, you’re in good company.

Palmer talks about this out of his own life’s experience – the disconnect between the inner stirrings of what he sensed he was to embrace as God’s call, and the “jobs” he had dabbled in as a “professional.”

Seeking the wisdom of his Quaker community, Palmer tells of Ruth, a woman who heard his quandary and offered this advice to have faith, and “way will open.”

His response was so typical – he has waited, in prayer, for “way to open,” and it’s just not happening – and she said to him, “…in 60 plus years of living, way has never opened in front of me…but a lot of way has closed behind me, and that has the same guiding effect.”

It’s one thing to know you have value, and a calling, it’s quite another to know just what the heck it is, especially when the way we’re headed closes. Isn’t God supposed to clear the path for us once we figure it all out?

When Way Closes – is more than a pithy saying, it is true, and we’ve all known it and been stung by it’s reality. It reminds us to be honest with who we are, what are true natures are. When we don't do that - we live in the false illusion that we are someone we're not - we live lives that are not ours, and in concert with the bulletin excerpt today, we will burnout from that simply because it is not our life to live.

But the way that closes, if we’re hearing the wisdom of Ruth, is a means of God’s leading, and it shows us a way.

“…we arrive at the heart of a paradox, each time a door closes, the rest of the
world opens up. All we need to do is stop pounding on the door that just closed,
turn around – which put the door behind us – and welcome the largeness of life
that no lies open to our souls. The door that closed kept us from entering a
room, but what now lies before us is the rest of reality.”

And that reality is of God, too – The Psalmist knows this too well –

4Some wandered in desert wastes, finding no way to an inhabited town; 5hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted within them. Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress; 7he led them by a straight way, until they reached an inhabited town. 8Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind.

Make no mistake about it, way will open and way will close – will we have faith until way becomes clear?

When way closes – People of the Way of Jesus of Nazareth - we know about this, don’t we – the life of Jesus is a continuing witness of what happens when way closes – there is still a way for the truth of his message to be made known.

• No room at the inn - another way opened, and here came the Christ, the promised one of God.
• Magi – fail to report back to Herod what they found - they went “home by another way.”
  Herod enacts the “slaughter of the innocents” with hope to silence this talk of the new King being born - Mary, Joseph and Jesus flee to Egypt where those of us who heard Bishop Ken Carder were reminded that Jesus lived his first couple of years on this planet as an undocumented alien.
• Religious leaders conspire with political leaders (can you believe that happens?!?) to end Jesus’ ministry – and yet the truth of the Kingdom of God would not be silenced – “even the very stones would cry out” this truth.
• When way closed – Their conspiracy would lead to Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion – and his followers thought it was over – way had closed –
• But then came Resurrection day – and way opened once and for all, and way will open for you - it may not be what you expect, or want, but it will be.
  
  
  

LET YOUR LIFE SPEAK - Part 2 "Now I Become Myself"

Have you seen the extraordinary series on Discovery Channel - Planet Earth?

Truly remarkable.

The film makers worked 5 years in this project to capture moments across the planet that are rarely seen, and sometimes, seen for the first time. It’s an incredible series and I’ve been mesmerized by it.

But as much as the pictures, and the stories they tell, is the stories and even dangers the film makers endured to get the shot they were looking for. Staged and planned, photographers would wait untold hours at times camouflaged in the habitat for the one moment when the subject of their film would appear and do something that we’ve never seen before. And despite their plans, the unexpected and unknown would always present itself.

Their goal was quite simple. They most wanted to get the shot of the indigenous animal behaving in a way that was authentic – without the animal’s knowledge that they were being watched or that someone was in their habitat that didn’t belong.

To capture the innate moment in its authenticity – it’s the quest of this mini-series.

So, too, it is for those of us seeking to discover the true self residing within. And like the animal in it’s habitat for which we must wait, sometimes an interminable length of time to find that moment of truth, we must wait, watch, and go to the places truly indigenous to our spirits to watch something amazing happen.

The larger question for us this morning is one of willingness and patience to catch the true nature of our spirits, and the God-indwelling call that resides there to be embraced and lived.

As we move forward in our conversation of vocation through the lens of Parker Palmer’s book, I want to assert a couple of points and ask that you stipulate with me that they are given. They are what they are – ultimately and universally true.

The first is this – as the Scriptures assert, “You are beautifully and wonderfully made.” That you are God’s child made, imago dei, is no small thing. In fact, it’s everything.

If you were in this sanctuary in February, 2003, we were blessed by the words of William Sloane Coffin, who, although affected and somewhat impaired by a stroke, could still get it done – if you know what I mean. What I remember best from Bill’s sermon (one he’d preached many times across the years), is his recitation of the words of YAHWEH as captured in Isaiah in which the LORD is making the case to the prophet that he has a call to answer, a vocation to live into. – Bill’s voice, slurring on some points of his sermon – was crystal clear with this one:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine. Isaiah 43.1

All of which is to say – your being matters, it has value. You may not fully know it, you may not have fully discovered it, but it is – as Bill would say - "God's love doesn't seek value; it creates it. It's not because we have value that we are loved, but because we're loved that we have value.”

The other given is this – not only is there inherent value in who you are – there is meaning, purpose, call, vocation that comes from the reality of your being.

Palmer talks about this so effectively, and his words open the eyes of our spirits to consider who we are and why we’re doing with our lives what we are: consider the excerpt in the bulletin today.

The upshot is this – vocation “is not a goal to be achieved but a gift to be received.”

In fact, it is your birthright. Palmer says

“It’s a strange gift, the birthright gift of self. Accepting it turns out to be even more demanding than attempting to become someone else! I have sometimes responded to that demand by ignoring the gift, or hiding it, or fleeing from it, or squandering it… and then he cites a Hasdic tale to make the point. Rabbi Zusya, when he was an old man, said, “In the coming world, they will not ask me: ‘Why were you not Moses?’ They will ask me: “Why were you not Zusya?’”

If you entertain the givens I’ve offered, hopefully the beginnings of the conundrum we live in will emerge. If I belong to God and have both value and a calling to fulfill, why do I spend so much time trying to be someone else?

These givens tell us that we each have inherent value – we are in the image of God – we have a Thomas Mertonesque “true self,” or what Palmer reflects on from his own Quaker tradition – the inner light, “that of God” residing in you.

Now I become myself,
It’s taken time, many years and places,
I’ve been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other peoples’ faces…

My God, the poet is so right. We spend so much of life wearing other people’s faces when the one God ever wanted us to put on was the one God gave to us at the beginning.

We don’t need to go out and “find” our vocation out there, the journey to be taken is within.

It can be a hard, arduous journey – sometimes there is wilderness wandering, sometimes we find we are in the valley of dark shadows, sometimes the journey moves us into places that surprise us, others frighten us. Truth is, external realities are tame by comparison – the true final frontier is inward.

But how? How do we know what this gift to be received is? What it looks like?

In our Gospel reading for today, Jesus is being asked a “how” question. How do we pray? How do we find that sense of God’s presence so long after sought but so rarely fully known?

Jesus’ answer, of course, included what we know as The Lord’s Prayer. But also other teachings including this – ask. Ask the One who is so eager to reveal the answer for you to discover.

We would do well to make such an ask a part of every prayer we pray – O God, please help me to become myself – that for which you made me from the beginning. Help me be who I am. Help me know what Palmer calls, “my true nature,” because until I know that, I can’t really embrace my call authentically.

Everything in the universe has a nature [he says], which means limits as well as potentials, a truth well known by people who work daily with the things of this world. Making potter, for example, involves more than telling the clay what to become. The clay presses back on the potter’s hands, telling her what it can and cannot do – and if she fails to listen, the outcome will be both frail and ungainly. Engineering involves more than telling materials what they must do. If the engineer does not honor the nature of the steel or the wood of the stone, his failure will go well beyond aesthetics: the bridge or the building will collapse and put human life in peril.

The human self also has a nature, limits as well as potentials. If you seek vocation without understanding the material you are working with, what you build with your life will be ungainly and may well put lives in peril, your own and those around you. “Faking it” in the service of high values is no virtue and has nothing to do with vocation. It is an ignorant, sometimes arrogant, attempt to override one’s nature, and it will always fail.

Here’s the key to the vocational answer we seek. Calling upon another masterful voice of this age in Christianity to point us to the answer - Frederick Buechner – Palmer reminds us that Buechner defines vocation as “the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s deep needs.”

Vocation is not your career – your profession – or anything about “YOU” on it’s own. Vocation – that is, the call of God that is your birthright to be embraced, matches your selfhood with service in God’s creation.

And notice, this vocation is not bound up in the “oughts” of this world. God knows we are far too captive to them. No, vocation bursts forth from the place of your deepest joy – for whatever it is – there is a deep need in the world whose chasm is matched only by the deepest joy of your heart.

In our lives we’ve known those people who have found that answer. They have taken the long journey and discovered the place where their deepest joy matched the deepest needs around them. And when that happens, movements begin, and things begin to change.

When that happens
• we start talking about economic justice and the living wage
• we start talking about healthcare differently and things like Church Health Center is born
• we start talking about the true freedom that comes from understanding that not only does my life have value and meaning in the eyes of God, so does everyone else. Everyone.

Palmer talks about Rosa Parks’ decision to sit in the front on the bus in Montgomery back in December of ’55. She’s quoted as saying that she sat down in that seat because she was tired. And in her autobiography she expounds on how “tired” she was. Physically tired? Sure.

But it was time to embrace her true vocation. “I will no longer act on the outside in a way that contradicts the truth that I hold deeply on the inside. I will no longer act as if I were less than the whole person I know myself inwardly to be.”

Thanks be to God for those whose deepest joys touch the world’s deepest needs. People like Harmon Wray, who taught and mentored me 20 years ago, whose embrace of his deepest joy with the greatest need, like finding community among the incarcerated and sharing with them, some for the first time in their lives that they are loved – such an authentic embrace of who he was both inspires and indicts me - And knowing him as I did, I’d know he’d remind me of that Hasdic tale - God doesn’t want me to be Harmon. God wants me to be Johnny. And simply wants you to be you - because for you there is a deep need only your particular vocation can touch.

And thank God, too, for the vocations in this room – those live out now, and those to be discovered – for when your greatest gladness touches the deepest needs – you are ushering in the Kingdom of God. Amen.

LET YOUR LIFE SPEAK Part 1 - "Listening to Your Life"

I’ve been eager to engage this material with you. Before we get started on this six week journey, a brief word about the author of the book on which we’ll base our conversations

Parker J. Palmer, Ph.D., is a writer, teacher, and activist who works independently on issues in education, community, leadership, spirituality, and social change. His work spans a wide range of institutions—colleges and universities, public schools, community organizations, religious institutions, corporations, and foundations. He serves as senior associate of the American Association of Higher Education, as senior advisor to the Fetzer Institute, and is the founder and senior advisor for the Center for Courage & Renewal. His publications include ten poems, some eighty essays, and several books, including The Promise of Paradox, The Company of Strangers, To Know As We Are Known, The Active Life, The Courage to Teach, Let Your Life Speak, and A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward An Undivided Life. His current work includes begin a senior advisor for the Center for Courage and Renewal at Bainbridge Island, Washington. He is a member of the Religious Society of Friends, Quaker, and lives in Wisconsin.

I first became familiar with Palmer when I purchased his book The Active Life – a Spirituality of Work, Creativity and Caring, back some years ago.

He is among a select faculty. Together with such distinguished names as Frederick Buechner, Henri Nouwen, Joan Chittister, Walter Brueggemann, and several others - they teach at the Johnny Jeffords spiritual academy in which, every time I open one of their books, I find that it is as if I’m in their company being gently guided, but genuinely prodded to explore my life in the face of the Sacred.

I come into this series with some assumptions framed from 20 years of pastoral experience. There is a commonality in any and every congregation I have or will serve. It’s a question asked by everyone in the room, clergy included, at some point or another.

That question is simply this - Am I doing and being with my life what God wants me to do and be?

This may be your question today – this very day. Maybe it’s not yet, but it will be. Or, maybe you’ve already wrestled with God like Jacob through the dark nights of your soul trying to resolve the question in your heart – and like Jacob, left with a limp.

The other assumption I come into this series with is this – this question is a timeless one. We revisit it as the seasons of our lives carry us from one time and place to the next, as our spirits rise and ebb as the tide. So, it matters not if you’re a child, or, a child at heart while your body has many more years on you than your frame of mind – you know the question and you’ve asked it many times.

It also doesn’t matter how successful or satisfied you are in your work at present, this question doesn’t come only for those who are out there, searching for some new path to take, those folks who never seem able to settle – and we usually think it’s only such people ask this question. No. it is ever present from the one of us who seems to have it most together, you know, the one who seems to be the “most Christian” to the rest of us who are, on are best day, “almost Christian.”

So, here we go –

When I was a boy, about 7, I think, my second grade class from Longfellow Elementary School, Mayfield Kentucky, traveled up old Highway 45 about 30 miles to the studios of WPSD-TV, Channel 6, in Paducah, to participate in the audience of the live broadcast of Capt. Dan’s Popeye the Sailor Man Cartoon Cavalcade. Now, what made Capt. Dan “Capt. Dan” and not the Dan you’d see on the evening news doing the weather, was that Captain’s hat he’d wear together with a US Navy looking top. He as Channel 6’s afternoon filler – and the kids loved him. You’ve seen those kind of things. If any of you were ever a part of Dick Williams’ Magicland here on TV5, you know what I’m talking about. Interspersed between cartoons of Popeye being beaten within an inch of his life, by Brutus, who had, by force, taken Popeye’s place in Olive Oyl’s life, until, Popeye gets his fill of canned spinach, and knocks Brutus into next week – and ends his episode with “I’m strong to the finich ‘cause I eats me spinach, I’m Popeye the Sailor Man – toot, toot! Interspersed between an afternoon of that, Capt. Dan would put the microphone in front of the kids’, on camera, ask them their name, where they lived, where they went to school, how old they were, and what they wanted to be when they grew up. Doctor, Policeman, Fireman – stuff like that was usually the pat answer. And then, he came to me – and I swear this was my answer – “I want to either be an Astronaut or a Cowboy.”

To this day, I’m not really sure where that came from – the Astronaut thing I guess because the Apollo program was hot and heavy, but a Cowboy? Really? Me?

I call upon that story in my own life, because we’ve all been put in a place in life where we’ve had to determine “what we were going to do with our lives.” In college we get a couple of years to figure that our before declaring a major. And then, once graduating with a degree with that major, we ask, “what am I supposed to do with that?” Every field has a “fish or cut bait” moment, when, you have to pick a lane on the highway of life’s workforce, and stay there!

Palmer begins his book with a poem titled “Ask Me” by William Stafford. There’s one line of that poem that opens the door for all that follows. “Ask me whether what I have done is my life.” To which he found himself being reminded of moments of his own life when it “was clear – that the life [he was] living [was] not the same as the life that want[ed] to live in [him].”

More than a psycho-spiritual riddle, there is something deeply of God in the question. The writer of Genesis, in the great creation story, tells us that humanity was made in God’s image – imago dei – not merely having the resemblance of God, as our children or relatives do in a family line – but the image as in the creative capacity to live in ways that reflect the truest nature – the essence of the Divine.

The temptation, because of pressures and expectations of family, of what we place on ourselves, of others, we find that we create a reality with values and expectations that are not ours discovered by our own discernment, but handed to us, and maybe force fed us by the predominant voices of our upbringing. Our religious affiliations, our particular work, our political leanings – how much of any of that is a direct reflection of what we’ve lived, seen and heard, or an opposite reaction to what we’ve lived. But are they the result of listening to God’s voice speaking to us, through us?

Let Your Life Speak, more than the title of Palmer’s book, comes from an old Quaker saying.

It’s not unfamiliar to us – is it? “You are the only Bible some people will ever read,” must be considered a variation on that theme.

But how do we do that? And for the weeks to come, where the heck are we going with this? We’re not all going to the same place in this journey – but we’re all on the journey together. But the first thing we come to today is that we cannot let our lives speak until we’ve listened to what our lives are saying.

As you consider the question of your life, its direction and the implication of choices you’ve made – what of your life’s direction is the result of the force of your own will and how much is of true “vocation?”

As reflected in the excerpt in the bulletin, vocation is not a matter of will; it is, quite literally, “the calling I hear.”

Hmmm. Jesus goes to Mary and Martha’s house. There was work to be done. Hospitality, after all, requires work. The expectations of the moment moved Martha into the kitchen. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, don’t you know.

But Mary heard something else, and the expectations of the moment moved her to Jesus’ feet to listen – to hear who she was and what she was to become – to hear her calling, her vocation. It’s always curious to me that Jesus tells the one who was busy “doing” that the one who was busy “being” was the one who chose the better portion.

The beginning of this journey – your journey, comes from listening well to your life to get the cues of what life you are to live – and then to discern what such cues mean. So, how do we do that? How do we listen to our lives? Palmer says:

[Our lives] speak in actions and reactions, our intuitions and instincts, our feelings and bodily states of being, perhaps more profoundly than through our words. We are like plants, full of tropisms that draw us toward certain experiences and repel us from others. If we can learn to read our own responses to our own experiences – a text we are writing unconsciously every day we spend on earth – we will receive the guidance we need to live more authentic lives.

It seems so basic, doesn’t it? Yet why are we so poor at doing it? Because as it is with so many other things in life, we only hear what we want to hear, and are expert at dismissing, discrediting, or out right ignoring anything we don’t. It’s easy to look at the grand stage of government at all levels – and in this day and time, from D.C. to Memphis City Hall, and see that maxim in play daily – but let’s be clear – it resides in each of us and is operative.

We hear what we want to hear – we speak to keep from listening – we want to be in control – of all things at all times – even and especially what we are to do with our lives.

Listening honestly to ourselves has to mean that we open to those things we don’t want to hear. Our sisters and brothers who live with 12-step programs get this point better than most. By quite literally taking a moral inventory they cannot avoid their truth. It is not easy, nor pleasurable. But ask any one who’s done it, and they’ll tell you that there is no healing – no sobriety – without it.

Neither can there be a full embrace of living the life God has for us without honestly acknowledging what keeps us from listening to God in the first place.

You’ve known people who’ve done that. I know I have. You’ve known those who’ve listened well to what their lives have to say to them, what God has called them to – callings they have heard and followed.

It’s a powerful thing. Sometimes such examples intimidate us and move us to envy because someone has found their answer and we’ve not yet found ours. But what we don’t take time to consider is that none of those who’ve lived their lives well have done so without first listening. Maybe then, such examples prove to us that not only it can be done, but is being done.

Listen to your life. Honestly accept what it tells you. And know this – those spiritual tugs pushing and pulling are holy. Even if it’s not what you want to hear, maybe especially if you don’t want to hear it. They are of God.

Sojos Representin'

The Sojourners' Class at my church - well, they're just cool.

I'm the old man among them, and yet, they put up with me.

We're just starting this book, brought to the group by one of our own, who, like all the rest, struggles with the incongruity of what the Gospel compels us to do in the face of systemic evil, and the relative silence of congregations, large and small on these issues.

Sometimes that silence is of our own making.

The prevailing spirit from this class, though, as led by Gospel mandates, is that, if there is silence in the face of such issues, it won't be from them.

I'm proud of this class, but not in a "pride goeth before the fall," kinda way.

Really, its more satisfaction wrapped in thankfulness, and a little bit of awe. I really believe these folks can change the world - I feel pretty sure they're changing me.

God knows we both need it.

Irrelevant Pursuits

We all want to matter.

Don’t we?

Don’t we all somehow want to think that at the end of our days that what we’ve said, done has made a difference?

It’s a noble thought, but only if what drives our desire to matter is clear – pure.

In our worship during these days, our congregation is living with Henri Nouwen’s profound book, “In the Name of Jesus – Reflections on Christian Leadership.”

My goal is framing my homilies around Nouwen’s words are not merely to have us somehow emulate someone else’s journey.

Rather, it is to use our awareness of who Jesus is to help give form and direction to our own, especially now as we believe we're called to lead the church into gospel hospitality.

This preaching series has been quite a point of departure for me. I have observed the lectionary as a discipline for 20 years. Quite literally, I took my first appointment as Associate Pastor at Old Hickory United Methodist Church outside of Nashville, 20 years ago this June.

So to give myself permission to veer from that is not something I feared, rather it was something I ran to.

I've found it a welcomed break from texts that folks who've been with me know into my sixth year have heard me preach twice.

And while I’ll return to those prescribed scriptures at Lent, for now, using the temptation of Jesus in Matthew and the post-Easter exchange between Jesus and Peter as a guide, Fr. Nouwen’s journey helps us deal with the spiritual dis-eases of our days and offers the way to lead the church.

The most notable of those things we need to give up – the desire, if not outright lust – to be relevant. In the wilderness temptation, Nouwen contends that the true meaning of the tempter’s encounter with Jesus was to convince Jesus that he mattered, but on terms not in keeping with who he really was.

God help each of us, when our lust for relevance gets in the way of our call. And what is that call? To walk in the way of the Servant, “who, though in the form of God, did not count equality with God something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, and became obedient unto death on a cross – so that, at his name every knee should bow, and tongue confess that Jesus is Lord to the glory of God.” (Philippians 2 paraphrase)

"Imago Dei" - Homily for Baptism of the Lord, January 7, 2007

My homily for last week, posted on our church website, click here.

"What Do You Want From Me?" - In Advance of Pentecost 19

17 As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ ¹⁸Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. ¹⁹You know the commandments: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.” ’ ²⁰He said to him, ‘Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.’ ²¹Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ ²²When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions. - Mark 10.17-22

So, a guy comes up to Jesus and needs help.

What's new about that? Nothing, really.

How many of those Jesus healed approached him first, sought answers to their problems, and found them in him?

This guy, incorrectly labled as "the rich, young ruler" has an existential question of the most serious sort.

Now, it's too easy for us to excuse ourselves of his issues because truly, we really don't think of ourselves as "rich." And I guess in comparison to big business CEO's, we're not. But on wordly standards, we know such an argument will never wash.

Because we know something of God's preferential option for the poor - it is chronicled in the whole of sacred texts. It cannot be denied, and to attempt to, I believe, is heresy.

We also know that money, in itself, isn't a bad thing. See "Of Hearts and Treasures" for more on that.

So, what's the big deal here - how is it that someone who seeks Jesus' counsel - seeks freedom goes away "grieving," and what has that to do with us?

Everything, really.

Don't we all, in some way or another ask Jesus "what do you want from me?"

And his answer is one that leaves us grieving more than we'd ever allow ourselves to admit in front of fellow church folks.

As I read it, Jesus simply asks of me to divest myself of what ever it is that I employ to define me. And let's make no mistake about it - we all seek to be defined by something or someone that communicates who we are without our ever saying so.

Power, position, prestige are all one end of the spectrum.

On the other end you'll find the capacity to perpetually wollow in misery, the adoption of victimization as a way of life, and the impotency of nondoing that accompanies each.

This "rich" man didn't go away grieving because he was rich. He went away grieiving because he was unwilling to divest himself of what he thought made him who he was.

The hard truth is, there is no room in our lives for the radical nature of Jesus' Kingdom program without some serious divestment in every realm of life.

And that means, each of us knows the answer to the question, "what do you want from me?" before it ever comes out of mouths.

Jesus is just honest enough to give us the answer we don't want to hear.

Turns out, I know what it takes to be free, to be whole - I've been shown the way - but I've got to want to go there.

"God Is Biased" Pentecost 14

The following is my sermon from Sunday last. It is based upon the lectionary readings from Proverbs, James and Mark.

There was some signficant response from this sermon, so I bring to this forum for any who may find value in it.

It is tied to my post from Monday "Of Hearts and Treasures."


There are some audio problems that are related to my wireless mic, and are not issues in the recording or playback.



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