Bowling, Celebrating, Grieving, Kissing, and Soaring

Saturday was a full day, and I'm still processing all of it.

I began as "Dad on Deck," and took my boys to their bowling league, and got to cheer for each of them, as well as for their teammates. You know, I suppose some folks look down their noses on this "lesser" sport, but I enjoy the crowd of parents and grandparents almost as much as watching the young bowlers. It's a very mixed group, with a few oddities. Most of them, though, come with good attitudes. Most seem happy to cheer for all the kids, theirs, mine, and others. The coaches aren't pitched against one-another; they wander the lanes and share the task of helping all the kids.

The weather was a lot better than the forecast, so when we got home I was able to fire up the grill. Pauline brought home some brats and buns. In no time at all, we had a brief reprise of summer in our house.

Then, my 8-year-old opted to go with me to celebrate another pastor's 25th anniversary of ordination. Steve was a former co-pastor with me 8+ years ago, so people from my current congregation were graciously invited by Steve's current members to join them in songs and sharing stories and memories. I was inspired yet again by the work God can do through people like Steve. He simply makes himself available to others, to play with them, to sit with them, and even to cry during those deepest moments. And through all of this with words and actions he preaches and assures and insists--against all that the world seems to say--that they are each worth the sacrifice of Christ and the love of God. I was grateful for our work together then, and grateful to God now for each time that I have called him up for his perspective and advice.

Home again, but I shouldn't skip over the gift of spending-time with one-son-at-a-time. In the car, or playing foursquare, or video games on my phone. Dang, it can be fun, and--when I think back on my own experiences and times with my dad--I suppose it's even more important than I usually realize.

Then, I received a call from a counselor from one of the area hospitals. One of my members died of heart-attack at the age of 54. His mother and much of his family are also members of my congregation. We gathered at the hospital's family room. Then, a few of us gathered around his body. We went back to their house. There was numbness, grief, tears, memories, laughter, deep moments of meaning, separated by light meaningless moments ...which also heal. Some of the laughter included teasing one of his nieces. She is now full-term, and looking forward to letting her restless baby do his kicking outside her belly! The promise of new life alongside of death. The promise of New Life from death.

Home again for me. Late now. Kisses for each sleeping figure: for wife who murmured a soft "good night," for son #1 who crept from his bed into my usual spot, and for son #2 who is sleeping sideways, long legs sticking out from beneath covers. It was beautiful and peaceful, if a little sad to return to a quiet, sleeping house...

Later still, I finished up notes for tomorrow's adult forum on the power of the Gospel. I should've went straight to bed from there, but I felt drawn to jot down the day's events and these few thoughts. Perhaps this is a way to cherish a few moments from an otherwise fleeting day.

Now, it's early morning. Sunday. I will head to bed for a few hours of rest, but I'll do it with the passage that was behind all the eagle images that surrounded the walls and shelves of the 54-year-old man's bed in his home: Isaiah 40:31 - "Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles."

Personal Mission for Ministry

I suspect that there is a file--somewhere in the back or at the bottom of a drawer--labeled "Approval Papers." In those papers, along with an essay, I described my sense of call to the "Ministry of Word and Sacrament." Then, and several times since, I have been asked to describe that sense in a brief paragraph or sentence. For grounding and inspiration, I always turn back to Paul's letter of encouragement to Timothy, especially 2 Timothy 3:14 - 4:5.

Over a decade ago, I printed and self-laminated that passage (with layers of scotch-tape), and stuck it in my wallet to keep myself reminded,  and take to heart those words once again. In these words Paul gives me strength and courage because he reminds me of both my gifts and how I can put them to use in this ministry. "Before God and before Christ Jesus who is to be judge of the living and the dead, I charge you, in the name of his appearing and of his kingdom: proclaim the message and, welcome or unwelcome, insist on it. Refute falsehood, correct error, give encouragement, but do all with patience and with care to instruct" (2 Tim. 4:1-2).

I am not especially good at church business, I'm even less organized than I once was, and I'm not as insightful as I used to think I was as new pastor. I can get distracted by my own or others perceived expectations of me. When that happens, my ministry, my passion for it, and the results all start to slide. It takes a lot of energy and time to do things that you aren't good at, and the results are not usually very impressive.

On the other hand, I have been given gifts and skills in teaching and preaching the message, and I have an ear and heart for encouraging people in their struggles with life and faith. When I stay firm and focus on these strengths, many of the other tasks slide in place, it leaves room for others who have different strengths and passions to pick up the pieces! With that in mind, this mission statement puts together what I am gifted and able to do, and the results that occur when I focus and use my strengths and passion as best as I am able.

My ministry mission...
Through Word and Sacrament, I will proclaim, encourage, and patiently teach the Gospel (the full story of God's creation and salvation through Christ Jesus) so that--with others--we will build a diverse and welcoming community that is held together by its focus on God's grace and forgiveness, and by its faith in God through Christ.

In God's Wilderness...

Last night, one of my friends must have been listening to the same thunderstorm. I suspect it was a happy distraction from some editorial or other work that had been occupying him earlier, because he posted his defiance against the notion that God can be understood best when he is "systematized." I doubt that he was denying that theology (or specifically systematic theology) has any value. Theology is a part of our desire to fully explore our relationship and creation's relationship with God. "Head" and "heart" are not opposites, but rather different parts of the same wave as it crashes against and attempts to cover the full width of a beach. Theologians explore the relationship we have with the Creator, and with words, metaphors, and systems they illustrate the height, width, and depth of God's love. Later, my friend posted that theologians are engaged in poetry. I think that might be true!

On the other hand, our drive to define and categorize God and godly things also reveals our desire to establish a sense of control over that which we have no control. Sometimes our study of things loses touch with the very things we study. Theology bites into that apple when it objectifies God, forgetting that he is the Living God who loves the theologian. It can create a very sterile and "heartless" view of the God of Creation, listing his parts and functions, but missing the motivating relationship. It would be like studying your crying child, observing how and where she fell down, noticing the skinned knee, and the falling tears, noting all of these significant things, but getting so lost in the observation and study that you forget to lift her, hug her, and tend to her wound with a bandage and soothing words.

A full theology freely confesses and bows to the God of and beyond theologies. Without that humility, in the face of a single thunderstorm, a systematized god can seem a bit lifeless. I responded to his post, "What? If I build a perfectly measured temple and fill it with godly things, do you mean to say I can't contain, study, and understand God within it? How will we ever understand him out in the wild?"

I'll admit to you that I deleted my question: I meant to support him, but it came across as arrogant and awkward in the midst of others' responses; it had a contextual problem.

In any case, the exchange reminded me of a few things. First, that God is best "understood" like any other living being: in relationship! Second, that God is not contained by our temples; he cannot be completely categorized or fully understood, and our theologies need to include and revel in this humility.

Third, I was reminded of a quote that I have always loved, but until now haven't shared: "In God's wilderness lies the hope of the world – the great fresh, unblighted, unredeemed wilderness." That quote from John Muir was on a coffee cup that I once had and lost. (I miss that cup.)

Some accused John Muir of nature worship. Druidism over-states Muir's appreciation for the cathedral which pointed him to the God who cannot be fully described... except perhaps by poetry and metaphor. Honestly, plants and creation often seem to obey and worship God more readily and emphatically than we do! 



 

“A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves. No wonder the hills and groves were God's first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches, the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself.”