All posts by Rod White

In the Bleak Midwinter: Suffering in the dark

A life in the Spirit, ,
John on Patmos

Many students of the Bible say that the fourth “gospel,” written by John, is the last one written. It sounds like that to me, too. It sounds like it is written by an old man who has been through a lot.

John did go through a lot: a lot of miracle, then crucifixion, then resurrection, then persecution, then evangelism, then church development and leadership, then church conflict, then a final persecution that lead to his exile on the island of Patmos where he had his amazing vision, and where he might have also written his account of Jesus’ work.

When John begins his brief, but poetic and profound, summary of the birth of Jesus, he strikes a mournful note in the middle of it. To me, he sounds like an old man who has suffered to bring the good news of Jesus to people who have rejected it and abused it. That bothers him.

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world,
and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own,
but his own did not receive him.
Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—
children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.” (John 1)

He is pondering light coming into darkness. He knows the darkness well. It is a darkness that does not recognize God coming onto it. It is a darkness as deep as being rejected by your own family — you come home and they leave you out in the dark!

Life born into the dark world

But John does not dwell there too long. He wants to tell the truth about what happened to Jesus and to himself as a result of meeting Jesus. He can’t wait for the big reveal, really. He almost breathlessly gets to the secret he wants to unveil: In the midst of this dark world where the light is not recognized as light, and family is not loved as family, the life of God is born into to the world and born in people who receive it, who recognize God in Jesus and trust him for renewed life.

I’m feeling with John this Advent. Last night, we spent our monthly Coordinators meeting celebrating our deep love for each other and the great successes of our work in 2010. It felt like an island of light, and spiritual depth in the middle of deep darkness. We need to make sure the light keeps revealed. 

Because on one occasion during my 35th-anniversary trip to Costa Rica, my host asked me what I did for a living. When I said, “I am the pastor of our church,” he immediately said, “In my family, we never talk about religion or money.” The darkness wouldn’t even let me be recognized for who I am. I got a gag order! (The order did not work that well, but I got it). 

Another time I asked my local guide, who had been so helpful in every way, when the festival in Nicoya was scheduled. I had read something about a Christmas procession in a guide book. She said something like, “Oh, people in the church do things. I’m not sure.” The church has a parade and a person can manage to be totally ignorant! (Putting Mary on a sedan chair and clogging traffic may not be the best advertisement, but it is pretty adroit ignorance to channel the input to some cranial “junk mail” folder!).

I have such wonderful Advents! Jesus is coming and I recognize and receive him. I am born and feel born of God. It is amazing. It was amazing to sit among my close colleagues and witness how the light came into their personal darkness. But that miracle happens in a world that seems to be turning its back on God-with-us even more deliberately, even among people who should know better,  

I hear a mournful tone that I have decided to hold on to this season. My carol has become “In the Bleak Midwinter.” John wants to rush to the joy of new birth, but he has enough discipline to let the whole truth be told. Self-giving love does not come to the world without suffering. In a dark, maybe darkening, world, the light continues to meet resistance. And yet it continues to shine.

Anti-adaptation for Advent

A life in the Spirit, ,

After a week, here in Costa Rica, I am acclimating. It did not frustrate me, this morning, when a chorus of howler monkeys and roosters woke me up at the crack of dawn. Yesterday I described the variations I wanted on my pizza with some forcefulness, in Spanish. We are an adaptable species.

God adapts to being a human

My own quick adaptation to this splendid environment for my pilgrimage this winter, reminded me of Nikos Kazantzakis musing about how God was invited to adapt to being human when he came for us in Jesus. In The Last Temptation of Christ, he adds a further temptation to the ones listed in Matthew 4. He imagines that it was tempting not to go to the cross because Jesus might have wanted to fully adapt to being human – be a carpenter, to have a wife and children, to receive the days as they came and die without any larger interest in the life of the Spirit or in restoring creation.

It is true that most of us are adapted to sin. It can be as obvious as deciding, “The ten extra, unhealthy pounds I carry are normal for me,” or deciding that, “Since I like smoking I can adapt to the long-term destruction it is creating.” Or it can be as mysterious as not pondering, “Why I don’t feel like I know God?” or “Why I can’t let go of my guilt and shame?” or “Why does my childhood trauma make more difference to my development than my salvation?” Or it can just be about going with the herd: “If all the other monkeys are howling for IPods, so do I.”  Or “If they all work seventy hours a week, so do I.” We are an adaptable species.

Advent refuses to adapt

Maybe one of the good things about Advent is that it is a season that refuses to adapt. It is an old discipline that keeps the heart of the incarnation accessible, even when “Christmas” adapts to all sorts of perverse influences. If you observe Advent, you are going against the flow. The local Costa Ricans down the street from the palace in which I am vacationing have some pretty basic accommodations; but they have a Coca-Colaesque Santa decorations, and their bodega plays “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” translated into Spanish (uh, it is going to be 84 today). “Christmas” has acclimated to what the world thinks is important. Even the world knows that and goes with it, anyway – sometimes people focus more on “family” as an antidote, but they go with it. To focus on the coming of Jesus and his refusal to adapt, even as he becomes one with us is quite a challenge.

We’ve got ten days left. Why not be unadaptable in the ways we are usually acclimated as a way to honor God coming to be one with us and fitting us for heaven? I think the season of Advent will call us to be in our bodies, but not letting them drive us, to be in our environments but not think they are our end, to appreciate our appetites but not just feed them, to see the sin around us and not be entangled, to have open, loving eyes for a world without God and not miss Jesus coming to it.

Be the Manger: Surrender unworthiness

A life in the Spirit, , ,

I guess I did kind of a mean thing at the Advent Day Retreat yesterday. I usually avoid coercing people to do anything, but I made the retreaters turn to a couple of other people and answer this question: “What makes you a good place for Jesus to be born?” Be the manger; be the bed. It is not so shocking that God should be born in us if God is born in a stable! What makes you a good place for Jesus to be born?

Be the bed

Their reactions made me feel a bit like Paul writing to the Galatians: “My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you, how I wish I could be with you now and change my tone, because I am perplexed about you!” (Gal. 4:19-20) Quite a few people seemed to be having a problem admitting, much less saying, that they were a suitable place for Jesus to be born!

They could easily go with how gracious God is to have come to a disintegrating, rebellious creation, to humbly be born in a stable and to act as a servant. But it was much harder for some to get their minds around the suggestion that the stable was quite good enough for God and that servanthood is a splendid means to express God’s self-giving love. God is delighted to live in us. Be the manger.

“But,” the immediate protest begins, “Won’t I end up being a prideful fool who is unaware of my sin if I start feeling good enough to receive Jesus?” There are many prideful fools around, after all.

But isn’t it also prideful to tell God that it is absurd for him to feel OK about filling you with his Spirit? Isn’t it foolish to keep an iron grip on your unworthiness instead of letting saved-by-the-grace-of-God be your new self-image? Isn’t it a bit audacious, in a bad way, to tell God she is crazy to love you so much, to want to snuggle in next to you like she apparently, historically does?

It is perplexing. Is Jesus so unformed in us that we would easily revert to being fearful slaves to whatever monstrous thing used to run us – so much so that we would leave Jesus perpetually knocking on the door of it?

As soon as people were given a chance to claim their right to be children of God, yesterday — to be the earthen jar in which glory is carried, to be the chosen friend in whom the secrets are confided, to be the sent one in whom the campaign for world redemption is entrusted, many were kind of tongue-tied. Maybe you are, too. I watched a couple of groups just sit there staring at each other, waiting, until it got too awkward and they had to say something. But even when they started talking, it was not like they were as appreciative of God’s home as God was happy to be there! They did not have a ready list of what made them a decent house.

Being self-critical is useless unless Christ lives in us! Otherwise we are like a dog in the manger – not saving ourselves and not letting the baby get in there!

In light of God’s delight to be with you, there are plenty of important ways to spend the season of Advent.

  • Maybe you are so full of yourself you need to empty out so Jesus can get a toe-hold.
  • Maybe you should stop being so preoccupied with whether Jesus is alive in you enough and go be an incarnation of the life you already have.
  • Maybe you need to wrestle with your disbelief and try to get to the bottom of it once and for all.
  • God knows what we should do; maybe we should ask him.

I stumbled on one important way many people need to spend the season. Be the bed. God wants to be born in you. Come on, you’ve got to be at least as good as a stable! Are you really going to tell him there is no room? tell him he shouldn’t even want to stay in you in the first place? he’s dumb to even knock? he should come back when you’re tidy? Don’t do that. If you have to do something other than enjoying your undeserved favor, at least fluff the hay a bit.

Can We Do Without the House, the Body, the Incarnation?

Doing Theology, The Mission,

We have been looking all over the region and all over the country for the people God is nudging into the proactive peacemaking work of Shalom House. I’m not sure we are the best lookers, but we are manifestly not the most successful finders. The fact that we are not successful recruiters raises the question, “Can we do the work of Shalom House without the house? Do we need an intentional community to incarnate our hopes?”

It is work

We could probably do the work without the house. I, for one, will have to keep working even if we can’t sustain it. But the work would not be nearly as brilliant. Enough of us in the church would shine the light, but it would probably be a dimmer light. One of the great things about Shalom House is that it gathers the radicals in one place and calls them to live in peace, not just talk about it. They get practical about peacemaking every day, not just write blogs about it. They get up each morning and conflict stares them in the face in the dining room, not only because it is on their bulletin board but because it is on their to-do list and it is sometimes staring at them across the breakfast table! The church needs intentional communities at the heart of us to remind us that community is possible, much more, maybe, do we need a community devoted to peacemaking.

The body

Finding the next people to join in with Shalom House is a specific case of our larger everyday search. We are scouring the region looking for the people God is nudging into Circle of Hope.  Being “in” Circle of Hope is a relative concept, of course. A man who lives in Brooklyn most of the time was at the PM last night and considers himself a part of BW. People who aren’t part of a cell and who attend a PM randomly consider themselves part of “Circle.” Their slight attachment brings up the question, “Can we do the work of Jesus without all the trappings of church – all the meetings, common bank accounts and obligations?” Do we need an organization to be our organism?”

People certainly think they can do without the Church. On the one hand, it is good that they feel like they carry their faith in their heart on their own and don’t require a lot of handling or support. On the other hand, it is so common that people lose their faith by swimming alone in the sea of opposition that it is a wonder that jumping overboard is so popular. We Christians in the U.S. are kind of a strange species; our strongest swimmers are often the ones who jump ship. They are busy with a brilliant, individual life that is conceptually attached to the body of Christ, but practically, is not much of an incarnation. Sometimes they parachute into “missionary” places looking for more individuals, such as themselves, who will leave their community to live an individualistic Christian life and find themselves having a tough time being connected to their own neighborhood (unlike the people they meet), because they don’t connect — at least for very long.

The incarnation

I suppose it comes down to the big question, “Could someone do the work of Jesus without Jesus?” No one reading this is likely to answer, “Sure!” But I am not so sure a lot of us aren’t trying it. The great challenge of turning from our godless way of life to a God-filled way of life is following the living Lord in the day to day, being an incarnation of Jesus as a member of his incarnation, the body of Christ, the church. The past 100 years of Christianity, in particular, seems to have allowed the faith to be one among many religions, a personal decision about meaning, a private experience that can’t be transferred, a “spiritual” matter, not a practical, legal, political, genetic or sociological matter, a collage of concepts, not a relationship with God.

Advent is the season when we are reminded that we can’t do the work of God without God-with-us. I suppose the fact that the season of Advent seems kind of weird to many Christians reflects our desertion of the doctrine of the incarnation —  so many of us are mainly concerned about right thinking or the heat of our personal feelings and less concerned with right living. But, as Paul says, “The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.” (Gal 5:6) and “Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision [or any other argument] means anything; what counts is a new creation.” (Gal. 6:15) Advent calls us to express our faith in God expressing his love — in a body, in time, in creation by birthing a new creation. We might prefer a more convenient “salvation,” one more personalized to our needs and desires. But we can’t do without the one we’ve been given.

Sit with the birthgiver: Finding glory in Morning Glory

A life in the Spirit, Film/TV, , ,

“[E]ven seeming emptiness is not sterile. In the times of waiting, it is enough if we do nothing more than sit with the birthgiver, offering a hand to be held.” – Margaret Guenther

God is so filled with love that he is repeatedly born in the empty, welcoming space of the soul. You can see that as a vision of eternal fertility. Or you can see it as an invitation to further tragedy as new life is aborted 1000 times a day and wasted. But, the truth is, the emptiness is teeming with life. Whether life-receiving or life-rejecting, we are not vacuums, even when we act vacuously.

We could miss the morning glory

Morning Glory (2010) - IMDbWe could miss the life. I walked out of Morning Glory and said, “That movie was charming and meant nothing.” But Gwen immediately and appropriately corrected me. “What do you mean? That movie was about staying with someone and hoping for change.” It dawned on me that, “I am Rachel McAdams having a moment of self-loathing as I leave the theater!”

Rachel is the struggling producer of a morning TV show. Harrison Ford is the curmudgeonly has-been anchor subjected to her care. With perpetual perkiness, indefatigability and hope, Rachel wins him over, saves the show, proves mom wrong about disrespecting her dreams, makes New York seem friendly and gets the supposedly hunky guy (although I wasn’t seeing the purported hotness, there).

On the other hand, we could pretend that cobbled-together plots like that bear some resemblance to reality. As I walked out of Morning Glory, my first reaction was ungenerous and narrow, but it was not totally wrong. I laughed. I teared up. I enjoyed Rachel running in slow motion past Prometheus in Rockefeller Plaza. But at some point, I had to hit my head and say, “What do you mean? She found an apartment in Manhattan in one-morning! She meets a guy and after one page of dialogue they have passionate sex! Jeff Goldblum was cast! Real life is not like what rich people fret about in New York!” The movie is purposeful delusion. It is systematically giving birth to wind

Wait for something to be born

So, as usual, there was birth planted in its emptiness. But, in the end, I think the life of God was aborted. So, as usual, my reaction was right and wrong. So I am glad to remember the original quote up top. It is probably the wisest response, most of the time, to patiently wait for anything that can be born to be born.

I want to spend this week holding hands with people as they are giving spiritual birth. If they give birth to wind, may I hold their hand again when the next spiritual pregnancy comes to fruit. Even the movies are clamoring for morning glory. I think it is up to me to see that yearning as an emptiness waiting to be filled by God. When the smallest bump can be seen, or even the discomfort of being sick with something that isn’t recognized as something, yet, it is good for me to sit and hold someone’s hand. I’m not sure what will be born, or not. But my comforting presence given freely to those making their fear-filled journey through the big city is not useless.

Development: Will we help or hurt the Philly region?

Building community, , , , ,

Development happens. Sometimes it is for the good. Much of the time it is the same old injustice in new clothes. Regardless, the church needs to develop along with it.

All weekend I talked about development — and I am not just talking about the in-town retreat the Leadership Team held with the discerning group to map out 2011 for Circle of Hope! No, I live in the Philadelphia region and we talk about development all the time: what’s happening in the casino district in Fishtown — the amazing speculation going on from Washington to Wharton in Point Breeze — the big ideas happening in southwest Germantown exemplified by the Kroc Center and the eviction notices given  to the people in the tower at Queen Lane — the changes on 52nd St. with the influx of new home owners pushing out from University City. What’s more: south of Temple is not what it used to be! — the Riverfront Prison site in Camden might get used well! — the South St. bridge reopened! It is exciting.

Church development

I was talking to a new friend in the Kimball St. Garden this weekend who said visiting St. Peter’s in Rome was the straw that broke the camel’s back of his faith. He gave it up when he saw that piece of church “development.” I understood. When I was there a few years ago I asked God for an earthquake to take care of what must be the worst piece of advertising for Jesus in history. God becomes a baby to meet us person to person and the church advertises him with an overwhelming building designed to make you feel small and powerless in the presence of God (and the pope)!

In most of Philly’s neighborhoods there are further shrines to the church’s pride and power housing congregations who are trying to figure out how to stay afloat and become useful in their developing neighborhoods. I told the man I was getting to know that he could come see us in our room over a check-cashing store if he ever felt like experiencing an alternative. He said he might show up. But I am not too heartened that Circle of Hope’s big contribution might be to provide a corrective for something done in 1626! We have our own development to consider!

This weekend we were considering our development in our developing region, and it wasn’t that easy. The pastors put out some ideas that seemed to come from the best parts of our discernment process including slight changes to our basic identity statements. We needed a lot of dialogue! Change is not easy! There were two ideas aired, in particular, that must feel like tearing down the Queen Lane public housing tower feels for some people. They want it gone, but they aren’t sure it doesn’t mean something important is going to be lost.

Being a developer

I guess I am like a “developer,” God help me. I don’t need change for change’s sake, but I think things can improve. When it comes to developing Circle of Hope, for instance, I think we should admit that we are diverse in race, class, background and location and stop talking about ourselves as if we are trying to become that. We became that. We can always become more, but we became that. Now let’s keep the heart of who we are and move on to what is next. Personally, I am not going to give up on any aspect of the work of reconciliation until I die. I want to keep overcoming the racist divides of our country (as were easily seen in the last election when Obama got his white backlash, even if no one will admit that), and I will keep being a proactive peacemaker (the need for such was also evident after the election when not one candidate on election eve mentioned the war in Afghanistan as a big deal to them). I think reconciliation is basic Christianity and I am not aspiring to it, I am it. I think we worked reconciliation into our DNA; we have it in our proverbs and mission teams. Let’s not talk about doing it as if it is still in question. Lets be it.

For another less tangible thing, I think we, as Circle of Hope, should admit that we met all our goals for development as an institution and now we should act like we are developed. We are four congregations, nearly 50 cells, four pastors, lead by  20-person leadership team, served by three staff people. We have two profitable thrift stores and a counseling center. We have compassion teams that many people consider radical. We need to get our minds around that and imagine what is next as that new entity. Let’s express ourselves as who we are now and stop dragging ourselves back into some nostalgic small thing. For anyone who just tuned in, we are just about what we were dreaming about becoming when we were a small thing. Let’s have the dreams of what a Circle of Hope that exists now would dream! This requires some maturity, of course. It is easier to just keep doing whatever was happening before. The people getting pushed out of North Philly into the lower Northeast and out of West Philly and South Philly into Southwest are just moving with the flow. They don’t create much flow. A lot of churches in town (like some churches on the street with BW) seem to be holding on as long as they can to what used to be great as the world changes around them. We were not created for that.

I am not up for not developing. Jesus is the source of a renewed imagination. Jesus continually renews our strength so we can face what is, now. I think he finds it exciting to work for redemption in the latest thing that has developed with the latest church he has developed. Let’s keep up.

Poetry in the Face of Power

Doing Theology, Poetry, The Mission,

Several people asked me for a reprint of the poem I quoted last night, so I thought I’d offer it to everyone.

Creating is a sure way to reveal the Creator; the Creator is revealed in our creativity. By re-imagining the world for everyone whose imagination has been re-organized by the domination system, we help restore the broken image of God we carry.

The poem is a “targum” by Brian Walsh and Sylvia C. Keesmaat from their book Colossians Remixed based on the following “poem” by the Apostle Paul (or one of his friends) included in his letter to the church in Colossae.

Apostle Paul

He is the image
of the invisible God,
the firstborn over all creation.
For by him all things were created:
things in heaven and on earth,
visible and invisible,
whether thrones or powers
or rulers or authorities;
all things were created by him and for him.

He is before all things,
and in him all things hold together.
And he is the head
of the body, the church;

he is the beginning
and the firstborn from among the dead,
so that in everything he might have the supremacy.
For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him,
and through him to reconcile to himself all things,
whether things on earth or things in heaven,
by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.
Colossians 1:15-20

Walsh and Keesmaat

Here is the expansion on Paul’s poem, designed to help us re-imagine with him for our time. I’ve made a few edits.

In an image-saturated world,
a world of ubiquitous corporate logos
permeating our consciousness
a world of dehydrated and captive imaginations
in which we are too numbed, satiated and co-opted
to be able to dream of life otherwise
a world in which the empire of global economic affluence
has achieved the monopoly of our imaginations
in this world
Christ is the image of the invisible God
in this world
driven by images with a vengeance
Christ is the image par excellence
the image above all other images
the image the is not a facade
the image that is not trying to sell us anything
the image that refuses to co-opt us

Christ is the image of the invisible God
the image of God
a flesh-and-blood
here-and-now
in time and history
with joys and sorrows
image of who God is
the image of God
a flesh-and-blood
here-and-now
in time and history
with joys and sorrows
image of who we are called to be
image-bearers of this God.

He is the source of a liberated imagination
a subversion of the empire
because it all starts with him
and it all ends with him
everything
all things
whatever you can imagine
visible and invisible
mountains and atoms
outer space, urban space, cyberspace
whether it is the Pentagon, Disneyland, Microsoft or Comcast
whether it be the institutionalized power structures
of the state, the academy or the market
all things have been created in him and through him
he is their source, their purpose, their goal
even in their rebellion
even in their idolatry
he is the sovereign one
their power and authority is derived at best
parasitic at worst

In the face of the empire
in the face of presumptuous claims to sovereignty
in the face of the imperial and idolatrous forces of our lives
Christ is before all things
he is sovereign in life
not pimped dreams of global market
not the idolatrous forces of nationalism
not the insatiable desires of consumerist culture

In the face of a disconnected world
where home is a domain in virtuality
where neighborhood is a common “like” on Facebook
where public space is a shopping mall
where information technology promises
a webbed-in, reconnected world
all things hold together in Christ
the creation is a deeply personal cosmos
all cohering and interconnected in Jesus.

And this sovereignty takes on cultural flesh
And this coherence of all things is socially embodied
in the church
against all odds
against most of the evidence
In a “show me” culture where words don’t cut it
the church is
the flesh-and-blood
here-and-now
in time and history
with joys and sorrows
embodiment of this Christ
as a body politic
around a common meal
in alternative economic practices
in radical service to the most vulnerable
in refusal of the empire
in love of this creation
the church re-imagines the world
in the image of the invisible God.

In the face of a disappointed world of betrayal
a world in which all fixed points have proven illusory
a world in which we are anchorless and adrift
Christ is the foundation
the origin
the way
the truth
the life
In the face of a culture of death
a world of killing fields
a world of the walking dead
Christ is the head of the resurrection parade
transforming our tears of betrayal into tears of joy
giving us dancing shoes for the resurrection party

And this glittering joker
who has danced in the dragon jaws of death
now dances with a dance that is full
of nothing less than the fullness of God
this is the dance of the new creation
this is the dance of life out of death
and in this dance all that was broken
all that was estranged
all that was alienated
all that was dislocated and disconnected
what once was hurt
what once was friction
is reconciled
comes home
is healed
and is made whole
because Grace makes beauty out of ugly things
everything
all things
whatever you can imagine
visible and invisible
mountains and atoms
outer space, urban space, cyberspace
every inch of creation
every dimension of our lives
all things are reconciled in him.

And it all happens on a cross
it all happens at a state execution
where the governor did not commute the sentence
it all happens at the hands of an empire
that has captured our imagination
it all happens through blood
not through a power grab by the sovereign one
it all happens in embraced pain
for the sake of others
it all happens on a cross
arms outstretched in embrace
and this is the image of the invisible God
this is the body of Christ

Conversion Stories

The Mission, , ,

In my circles, the word “conversion” sort of has a bad reputation. I think that is because strange, power-hungry men (for the most part) have been in the mass media for decades prowling for conversions. People feel like it would be a sign of low self-esteem to give in to them – sort of like owning the Pocket Fisherman because you saw it on TV.

That’s too bad. Because conversion is a good word. It basically means an event that resulted in transformation. Maybe we don’t like getting coerced into conversion, but people yearn for transformation, and that is the essence of what relating to Jesus is all about. So maybe I don’t need to be “converted” in the worst sense of the word, but no matter how many people try to get me to accept myself just as I am, I long for the transformation God promises. The more of it I experience, the more I long for the fullness.

Shalom House and conversion to peacemaking

I got to thinking about conversion when I was sitting at breakfast yesterday with the members of Shalom House and their Guidance Team celebrating the entry of Kristen into the household. We told peacemaking stories. Many of them included the conversion it took to be committed to Christ’s way of peace. I needed to be converted to that even after I was a Christian! My father was in the Navy. My brother was in Vietnam. I enthusiastically voted for warmongers. My conversion was mainly due to an honest reading of scripture. When Paul talks about the armor of God he says to have “your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.” (Eph 6:15). I don’t know why I would need to be a Christian at all if I have to undo Christianity so I can fit war into Christ’s peacemaking.

So I was encouraged by the Shalom House people.

As I was remembering them this morning, a flood of realization came to me. Last night at our PMs, I was surrounded by people who were experiencing conversion. Some of it was rather dramatic.

  • A person quit his high-paying and high-powered international job last week because he feels convicted to have a life in Christ.
  • A person risked her job to get off in time to get her family to the PM, now that they have just one car.
  • A person is making a covenant with the church, even though it goes against his grain to be so noticed and connected.
  • A person has been released from her former ambitions and is bravely looking into the brand-new future that is opening up before her.

Even as I am listing these conversations that all happened during the course of one evening, I realize that there are many more I could be listing — some small examples, some large. There is a lot of conversion going on. Knowing Jesus and being one of his people is changing people and allowing them to go with further change. I don’t know if transformation is breaking out, but I am glad to at least have my eyes opened to it a bit more. Are you noticing any conversion in your quadrants?

Kick a Sleeping Dog For Jesus

The Mission, , , , , ,

Chaucer wrote:

“It is nought good a slepyng hound to wake.” Troylus and Crisedye (1374)

By the time the saying got to Dickens it was,

“Let sleeping dogs lie.” David Copperfield (1849)

By the time it got to Pennsylvania in 2010 it was something of a way of life.

“Whatever you do, don’t cause a conflict. Organize your life around avoiding anything that might even smell like you causing trouble.”

This attitude kind of messes up the redemption project, don’t you think? — since being connected to Jesus (even if you don’t say anything about it!) will be something that causes conflict — at least for SOME imagined person.

So some Christians I know are even more determined to be as unobtrusive as possible, lest they “turn someone off,” or more likely just violate the family credo, “Let sleeping dogs lie” –- “Never risk a bite…It is mean to kick…You can’t tell if that dog is nice or mean so just don’t have a relationship at all and call that being nice to dogs.”

But this brings me to the other dog proverb that comes from the super-short Greek fable:

“There was a dog lying in a manger who did not eat the grain but who nevertheless prevented the horse from being able to eat anything either.” — Lucian (2nd Century)

This saying has been popular ever since. About the same time, a version came up in the colorful, but wisely rejected, Gospel of Thomas, attributing the thought to Jesus: “Woe to the Pharisees, for they are like a dog sleeping in the manger of oxen, for neither does he eat nor does he let the oxen eat.” It’s kind of similar to Matthew 23.13: “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the kingdom of heaven in men’s faces; you do not enter yourselves, nor will you let others enter.”

If you are a Jesus-follower committed to letting sleeping dogs lie, you are like a dog in the manger.

You have the spiritual food people need to eat, but you are so committed to not forcing it down their throats that you let them starve. In essence, you won’t even eat it yourself, because it might cause you problems if it really became part of your metabolism and made you like Jesus, dusting it up with Pharisees!

If you are following all this dog metaphor, I hope you are getting that we’d all be better off if we kicked a sleeping dog for Jesus (in a Jesus-like way, of course). Most of the people we know are not peacefully sleeping, they are in a spiritual coma and they need to be awakened. Worse, they have very likely taken an overdose of nonsense and if we don’t get them awake and keep them awake, they might die.

sleeping dogOf course, the same dire circumstance awaits believers who don’t get involved with the dogs (as Jesus even seemed reluctant to do!). We could end up being sleeping dogs in the manger! Sometimes I think that is exactly what we are like. It is not that we are trying to keep people away from our spiritual food. We’re like well-fed dogs bedded down in our little nests, oblivious to the world. Or if we are not well-fed and bedded, we are at least nested – likely to have this week go by and not one sleeping dog kicked, including ourselves.

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The Common Loneliness — Francis Day 2010

Poetry, ,

On Francis of Assisi Day, 2010

It could have been that Francis
crawled out into the bushes of La Verna to die
like an old alley cat —
scrawny from fasting
and disappointed that his dream turned so human.

Or it could have been that Francis
longed so much for home, he couldn’t resist.
Like the prodigal son,
he came to his senses
and gave in to seeking the meal his holy memory could taste.

Either way, he ended up in the wilderness
and the mountain was a lonely silence,
like nothing but a frightened man
with nothing to offer but emptiness.
And yet he had to keep going, step by step, up the hill.

Either way, he ended up alone,
experiencing the pain both of separation and union —
like a young man leaving home
and like a father letting go,
and he aware of it all, yet powerless before it.

It could have been that Francis
did very few of the things people recalled.
But what believer is not so lonely
with disillusion and desire
that they would dare to disabuse us of their own story?