I have this place. It’s a cute coffee shop that used to be a flower shop on E. Jackson not far from the Y. It’s a cozy place. Looks like it was a home at one time. I have my favorite table in that place, in a corner, towards the back.
I have this place where the people who work there know my name and they know that I like a cranberry oatmeal cookie with my coffee. And they know that I like strawberry-banana smoothies and I like my berry oatmeal bake warmed up and without milk; like a piece of coffee cake.
I have a place. I go there, not so much for the food (especially now that I am trying to be on a lower carb diet) but I go there because of the peace and grace I often find.
Earlier this year, I had a health thing which got me on edge for about a week while I waited for the biopsy result. I went to this place right after the tissue sample was taken and I received a much needed dose of grace – in the form of a free cookie and a warm smile. I never told the owner that she was an angel in disguise that day. Maybe I should tell her. The results of the biopsy came out as benign.
I go to this place alone to read, to think through things, to think about an upcoming sermon... I go there fairly regularly just to be for a while. To talk with God.
I go there to meet with a friend and talk about life. I go there with someone from the church to discuss ministry possibilities.
I was there this morning, with a pastor friend. I received grace from that person who has been more than patient with this green, searching, pastor on many occasions. He listened to me. Shared some thoughts for a little while. It was good.
Jesus had places too. In one place he would withdraw regularly and pray. He had another place which belonged to two sisters, where he could get away from the craziness of life and the business of ministry in order to be renewed and readied again for service. People – sometimes his own disciples - often tried to go after him and tried to make him feel guilty about not being with the people all the time as they eagerly waited for him to heal their broken lives and their broken bodies. But Jesus knew when to say “enough”.
We seem to have a thing against slowing down in this culture. Some seem to take pride in the fact that they are always busy. Seems like their worth is tied to how busy they are.
It almost seems like we will be judged as lazy if we stop on a regular basis to just be.
I struggle with business but I know, and realize anew as we are getting ready to enter the season of Lent, that busy does not necessarily mean effective. I also know that I won’t be able to serve in the long haul if I don’t stop on a regular basis to just be.
As Christians, I think we all need to become counter-cultural in how we use our time and how we define our worth.
Do you have a place? Do you stop on a regular basis to just be?
Friday, February 20, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Faith
There are some things in life that you just hope you never have to do. One of these things happened to me this past Wednesday: I officiated at the funeral of one of our nieces, 21 year old Jennifer in Ohio. The cause of death is still being worked on but it looks like a brain aneurism took her too soon.
I have officiated at several funerals before but they were always for elderly people who were not related to me.
Over 100 people showed up and stayed for her viewing on Tuesday and again for the service on Wednesday. She had been in band in High School and I would bet most of the band was present to honor her. It was just unbelievable how many lives she had touched in her young span of time here on the earth. Jen loved people and she loved horses. As she loved and gave in life so did she in death.
Jen was an organ donor. The doctors were able to use her liver, kidneys and corneas. That is such a comfort to know that she lives on through the recipients of these gifts of life.
The age old questions of how can there be a loving God when things like this happen surfaced. How is pain and suffering able to coexist with love? What kind of explanation can I give? This is not a sin related thing. It just is and I have no explanation. Job comes to mind.
In the end I have to trust that God walks with us in this time of trial and that He cares. I believe, help my unbelief.
I have officiated at several funerals before but they were always for elderly people who were not related to me.
Over 100 people showed up and stayed for her viewing on Tuesday and again for the service on Wednesday. She had been in band in High School and I would bet most of the band was present to honor her. It was just unbelievable how many lives she had touched in her young span of time here on the earth. Jen loved people and she loved horses. As she loved and gave in life so did she in death.
Jen was an organ donor. The doctors were able to use her liver, kidneys and corneas. That is such a comfort to know that she lives on through the recipients of these gifts of life.
The age old questions of how can there be a loving God when things like this happen surfaced. How is pain and suffering able to coexist with love? What kind of explanation can I give? This is not a sin related thing. It just is and I have no explanation. Job comes to mind.
In the end I have to trust that God walks with us in this time of trial and that He cares. I believe, help my unbelief.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Witnessing History
I have been watching quite a bit of news broadcasts these past few days and been emotionally moved a lot.
Monday (usually my day off) was spent between the History Channel, which honored the life and legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. and stations like CNN, MSNBC, and Fox as they each broadcasted the pre-inaugural festivities for Barack Obama.
I have usually voted for presidential elections but this is the first one when I find myself truly moved and with the sense of witnessing something important and historical. I find myself wanting to understand the political system better. I find myself wanting to learn more about Martin and the whole civil rights movement.
This is not part of my heritage. I was not born and I did not grow up in the United States. American history was not taught to me growing up. French history was. Twenty years ago I had a couple American history classes in college while Steve and I lived in Texas. I enjoy history, I just don’t have a lot of time to read about it as much I would like to, with the other things that I want to read and need to read. This is something I want to remedy.
I was surprised to find myself teary-eyed these past couple of days because I was 3 when Martin Luther King Jr, was assassinated. I believe what moves me is the dedication of one’s life for peace and justice to the point of accepting death as a very probable result of one’s involvement. The men’s dedication is not the only thing that touched me. With each of these men was a strong, dedicated woman and these men would not have achieved what they achieved without these women. What was true for Martin is true for Barack.
Whether one is Republican or Democrat (or something else), the hope that is currently present is undeniable and America desperately needs hope.
Hope is what some pastoral colleagues and I saw and felt when we shared Hawaiian pizza together (here goes the low carb diet) as we were watching Obama’s inauguration on TV. The pastor who invited us to her home said about the pizza, “if it is good enough for Barack, it is good enough for us” (and it was good pizza.) We had a great time together, sitting in this small living room. Giggled at Aretha Franklin’s hat. Commented on what we heard being said. There was this sense of unity despite the fact that we don’t all share the same views on several things (our host is a Unitarian Universalist pastor; we had a United Church of Christ pastor, a Presbyterian and me.) But we could all agree that it is time for a change; that it is time to work harder than ever toward peace and unity and we believe that this starts with us.
Now the danger is to place too much hope of the shoulders of Barack. His name means “blessed” but he is not the Messiah. The challenges are huge – and regardless of political parties and ideologies - it is going to take everybody working together to get us out of the mess we are in. Whether we agree with everything Barack is going to try to achieve or not, he needs our prayers.
Monday (usually my day off) was spent between the History Channel, which honored the life and legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. and stations like CNN, MSNBC, and Fox as they each broadcasted the pre-inaugural festivities for Barack Obama.
I have usually voted for presidential elections but this is the first one when I find myself truly moved and with the sense of witnessing something important and historical. I find myself wanting to understand the political system better. I find myself wanting to learn more about Martin and the whole civil rights movement.
This is not part of my heritage. I was not born and I did not grow up in the United States. American history was not taught to me growing up. French history was. Twenty years ago I had a couple American history classes in college while Steve and I lived in Texas. I enjoy history, I just don’t have a lot of time to read about it as much I would like to, with the other things that I want to read and need to read. This is something I want to remedy.
I was surprised to find myself teary-eyed these past couple of days because I was 3 when Martin Luther King Jr, was assassinated. I believe what moves me is the dedication of one’s life for peace and justice to the point of accepting death as a very probable result of one’s involvement. The men’s dedication is not the only thing that touched me. With each of these men was a strong, dedicated woman and these men would not have achieved what they achieved without these women. What was true for Martin is true for Barack.
Whether one is Republican or Democrat (or something else), the hope that is currently present is undeniable and America desperately needs hope.
Hope is what some pastoral colleagues and I saw and felt when we shared Hawaiian pizza together (here goes the low carb diet) as we were watching Obama’s inauguration on TV. The pastor who invited us to her home said about the pizza, “if it is good enough for Barack, it is good enough for us” (and it was good pizza.) We had a great time together, sitting in this small living room. Giggled at Aretha Franklin’s hat. Commented on what we heard being said. There was this sense of unity despite the fact that we don’t all share the same views on several things (our host is a Unitarian Universalist pastor; we had a United Church of Christ pastor, a Presbyterian and me.) But we could all agree that it is time for a change; that it is time to work harder than ever toward peace and unity and we believe that this starts with us.
Now the danger is to place too much hope of the shoulders of Barack. His name means “blessed” but he is not the Messiah. The challenges are huge – and regardless of political parties and ideologies - it is going to take everybody working together to get us out of the mess we are in. Whether we agree with everything Barack is going to try to achieve or not, he needs our prayers.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
A prisoner of Jesus Christ
“…I, Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus…” That phrase has been echoing in my heart and mind these past several weeks. It comes from Ephesians 3:1. That was one of the lectionary texts (3:1-12) for Epiphany Sunday, January 4. On that Sunday, we recognized and remembered anew that all the world, Jews and non-Jews (Gentiles), has been called into the family of God. That is the mystery that God has given Paul, this first century missionary pastor, to tell the people. I preached on that. On how good it is to be part of the family but also on the privilege and responsibility we have been given also to let people know… To let them know that they are not too broken, or too messed up or whatever to come and have a relationship with Jesus. They are loved and welcomed.
That is an amazing message of grace. A message that I have and continue to be the recipient of.
“…I, Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus…” But that phrase keeps rattling within me. I have thought about it off and on as I lay in bed at night, reviewing my day, talking with God, waiting for sleep to come…
“…I, Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus…” The immediate meaning is that Paul is telling the folks he is writing to (Ephesians and others since this is apparently a circular letter, commentators tell us) that he is in jail. Scholars believe he was imprisoned in Rome when he wrote the letter. But what I also think he is telling them and us – and that is the part that gets me - is that his love for Jesus is so profound, so deep, and so powerful that it controls him. All of him. Every decision he makes. Every moment of his life…
That statement must have jarred the folks at the Ephesus church. By all accounts, they were great folks. Paul writes, “Since I first heard of your strong faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for God’s people everywhere, I have not stopped thanking God for you.” (Eph. 1:15, NLT) But then the writer of Revelation says this about the followers of Jesus in Ephesus “Yet I hold this against you. You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first.” (v. 2:4-5a, NIV)
Paul is calling them and us to wake up, to not go through the motion of faith, to not play church. Instead he prays that passion – that fire in our belly for God and people – would be re-ignited.
There is something really powerful, really contagious, about a life lived with passion; in the best sense of the term.
I went to my seminary recently to a communion service in honor of Erland Waltner. Erland is 94. He was my spiritual director when I was in seminary. He is one of the most faithful, wise, grace-filled person I know. He has a passion for God, for people, for teaching… He and his wife are going through great times of changes and transition in terms of health and living arrangements. They have recently moved from the home they had lived in for years, across the street to the seminary, to a retirement place in Goshen.
When I read what Paul says about himself, I think of Erland. He is a prisoner of Jesus Christ. It is obvious God has all of him. He shines with a quiet, strong and steady faith. Erland is legally blind but the eyes of his heart and the discernment of his spirit are sharp. He could see right through the confusion experienced by this green pastor not so long ago. His passion and love for Jesus are inspiring.
I remember reading the newsletter from a local counseling agency and the director was talking about the passion that he has for what he does and the passion he sees in his colleagues and also in some of the people they serve. This therapist wrote, “The word "passion" itself has an interesting history in Christian tradition. It derives from the Latin passio, which meant "to suffer," and also "to allow oneself to be acted upon" ("suffer the little children to come unto me" reflects this meaning), and especially to allow oneself to endure suffering – as in Jesus' Passion.
Passion is what Paul had, what Erland has, what some pastors I know have. A passion for God, for God’s people which drives their life. This passion enables them to bear their cross.
A pastor friend was talking about that recently. He shared his deep concern for children and how they grow up in this society. He wants them to have roots, a solid foundation rooted in Jesus and His love. He says that he wants kids to have a faith which will enable them to carry the crosses that bring unspeakable pain and loss to all our lives at one time or another.
I want that kind of faith, that kind of passion. I want to be a prisoner of Jesus. I want people to see Jesus in me and for them to come to Him. Amen.
That is an amazing message of grace. A message that I have and continue to be the recipient of.
“…I, Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus…” But that phrase keeps rattling within me. I have thought about it off and on as I lay in bed at night, reviewing my day, talking with God, waiting for sleep to come…
“…I, Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus…” The immediate meaning is that Paul is telling the folks he is writing to (Ephesians and others since this is apparently a circular letter, commentators tell us) that he is in jail. Scholars believe he was imprisoned in Rome when he wrote the letter. But what I also think he is telling them and us – and that is the part that gets me - is that his love for Jesus is so profound, so deep, and so powerful that it controls him. All of him. Every decision he makes. Every moment of his life…
That statement must have jarred the folks at the Ephesus church. By all accounts, they were great folks. Paul writes, “Since I first heard of your strong faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for God’s people everywhere, I have not stopped thanking God for you.” (Eph. 1:15, NLT) But then the writer of Revelation says this about the followers of Jesus in Ephesus “Yet I hold this against you. You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first.” (v. 2:4-5a, NIV)
Paul is calling them and us to wake up, to not go through the motion of faith, to not play church. Instead he prays that passion – that fire in our belly for God and people – would be re-ignited.
There is something really powerful, really contagious, about a life lived with passion; in the best sense of the term.
I went to my seminary recently to a communion service in honor of Erland Waltner. Erland is 94. He was my spiritual director when I was in seminary. He is one of the most faithful, wise, grace-filled person I know. He has a passion for God, for people, for teaching… He and his wife are going through great times of changes and transition in terms of health and living arrangements. They have recently moved from the home they had lived in for years, across the street to the seminary, to a retirement place in Goshen.
When I read what Paul says about himself, I think of Erland. He is a prisoner of Jesus Christ. It is obvious God has all of him. He shines with a quiet, strong and steady faith. Erland is legally blind but the eyes of his heart and the discernment of his spirit are sharp. He could see right through the confusion experienced by this green pastor not so long ago. His passion and love for Jesus are inspiring.
I remember reading the newsletter from a local counseling agency and the director was talking about the passion that he has for what he does and the passion he sees in his colleagues and also in some of the people they serve. This therapist wrote, “The word "passion" itself has an interesting history in Christian tradition. It derives from the Latin passio, which meant "to suffer," and also "to allow oneself to be acted upon" ("suffer the little children to come unto me" reflects this meaning), and especially to allow oneself to endure suffering – as in Jesus' Passion.
Passion is what Paul had, what Erland has, what some pastors I know have. A passion for God, for God’s people which drives their life. This passion enables them to bear their cross.
A pastor friend was talking about that recently. He shared his deep concern for children and how they grow up in this society. He wants them to have roots, a solid foundation rooted in Jesus and His love. He says that he wants kids to have a faith which will enable them to carry the crosses that bring unspeakable pain and loss to all our lives at one time or another.
I want that kind of faith, that kind of passion. I want to be a prisoner of Jesus. I want people to see Jesus in me and for them to come to Him. Amen.
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Story does not end with Christmas
Steve and I took down the decoration off our Christmas tree and put the nativity set away today. The Christmas season is a bittersweet time for me because we are away from family and we don’t have biological children. The celebration is different, the food is different than in France... It is a busy time. But still I enjoy Christmas – not the marketers’ version of Christmas, mind you – I dislike shopping most of the time; but I like the lights and the ornaments, many of which have a history. We have stuffed teddy bears in winter outfits on our couch. One even plays music when you squeeze its paw.
And I never get tired of hearing the Story or telling the Story in various ways.
From as far back as I can remember as a child, it was my “job” to put up the crèche and that tradition remains. We have a neat nativity set. It’s not the “santons” (“little saints” in Provençal,) of my youth, those hand-painted clay figurines, dressed in traditional attire, prevalent in the south of France. My little resin friends of today look right out of first century Judea. The plaster houses look like what I imagine the houses back then would have looked like. I enjoy setting the scene and trying to imagine what life would have been like so long ago.
People, in my crèche rendition, go about their every day business, oblivious to the miracle happening right under their nose. That part has not changed all that much, has it?
The wise men are even part of my recreated story despite the fact that scholars don’t believe they reached Jesus until he was a 2 year-old toddler and long gone from the stable in Bethlehem. There are 3 wise men – an assumption based on the three gifts brought – again, probably not accurate either but frankly it does not matter all that much. The point, as our lectionary texts Sunday reminded us, is that outsiders: Gentiles (non-Jews), dirty-stinky shepherds… believed what they heard, responded and came to worship and became part of the family of God. Power, as the world understands it, was turned on its head, redefined, on that day.
So there is a little sadness because putting things away means that another year has gone by. The lights are put away and familiar and beloved carols won’t be sung for the next 12 months.
The end of the Christmas season kind of feels like I imagine the disciples must have felt coming down the mountain after transfiguration. There is part of me that wants to stay on the mountain, dazzled by visions and light. But I am reminded that I can’t stay on the mountain. Life happens on the plain and in the valley and occasionally there are mountain top experiences.
But “God is in us, God is for us, God is with us Emmanuel”; that is what the Casting Crown song I sang Sunday reminded us of. He is with us all year long, whether we are on a mountain or deep in the valley.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
The Gift of Presence
The gift of presence: That is the recurring thought and feeling I had the whole month of December. Several people I knew, or who were related to people I know, died in December. I found myself sitting with several grieving people during the season of Advent/Christmas. I found myself sitting also with people who had lost someone dear earlier in the year and for them, this would be their first Christmas without that beloved one. Before I did my Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) Chaplaincy training some years back and received a little more counseling training and before I became a pastor, I found sitting with grieving people more difficult than I do now. There was a need in me to “fix” the situation; to say something profound which somehow would take the pain away and make things “right.” I was uncomfortable with silence; with people’s pain and tears; with my own emotions being stirred by their pain. There was a need in me to “do something” and move on quickly away from the situation.
I soon realized that there was nothing I could say to take the pain away; nothing I could do to “fix” the situation; nothing I could do to bring a loved one back. I felt very helpless and inadequate.
But then people would be appreciative and often they would hug me to thank me for being there. They would say things like “it means so much that you are here.” This would puzzle me because I did not “do anything”, I was just there. And then I started to have a better understanding of the gift of presence; the gift of listening; the gift of holding someone when they cry… This gift comes into fuller fruition with the ability to be present to the moment.
Nowadays, I don’t mind silence so much; I don’t feel the need to “fix” things as I used to. I receive the emotions that people share with me with gratitude and hold their pain, and vulnerability and trust as a precious, fragile gift. I receive the emotions that others’ pain foster in me with awe because it means that God gave me a heart and the ability to care deeply. Being able to be present when people go through the tough moments in life is incredibly humbling.
I have been the recipient of the gift of presence recently as I am undergoing tests and am now waiting for the results. God is incredibly present throught people and the words of comfort they give, even when most don't know what a blessing they are.
I think about this gift of presence as we celebrated Advent and the Christmas season. I think about it as I look at this new year ahead of us. I believe there is a longing in all of us for this Presence which offers what the world cannot offer. We sang “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” (one of my favorite Advent hymns). There is a verse that we rarely sing which says, “O come, thou Key of David, come, and open wide our heavenly home. The captive from their prison free, and conquer death’s deep misery.”
This season, but also all year long, we must tell the world that this Presence who transforms, heals and sets people free from their man-made prison and from death is Jesus. We tell the folks we come in contact with through the way we live, through the way we love; through the way we give and through the way we die.
I am not sure where the tradition of making New Year’s resolutions comes from. In years past I used to make the resolution to loose weight (along with half the nation I am sure) and after February I soon gave that up. It will happen. It is happening but it is no longer a New Year’s resolution.
My resolution and prayer this year and every year to come is to become ever more present to people and be more open to the Presence, Jesus. He is the gift of Presence. The One we long for. Amen.
HisSpace.com
12/28/08 sermon - Luke 2:41-52
You know I am realizing a little more every day that I am getting older and that there are a lot of things around me that I don’t quite get but that I find fascinating nevertheless. A couple of these things are iPods and MP3s (I guess these are the same thing, aren’t they?): I remember buying LPs (33 rpm) and 45s (you know, the vinyl records with a big hole in the middle). I remember when cassette tapes were big and then when they faded away as old dinosaurs when the CDs came out. Now you can’t even give these things away. I guess I was good this year because I got an MP3 player for Christmas! :) I spent some time these past few days charging it and learning how to load songs into it. Pretty cool!
The other thing I find interesting is the phenomenon of websites like MySpace.com and Facebook and Blogs. Somewhere in cyberspace I have a MySpace account. That one was started for me by a youth at a former church I served a couple of years back. I have been invited by several friends to sign into Facebook. So I have one of those too somewhere. The sad part is that I am not sure how to get back on these accounts or how to post anything there. I have a blog now also you know. The good news is that I know where that blog account is and I know how to post texts, and pictures and videos on there too. Whether anybody is looking at my blog is another story. I learned to text from my cell phone this year too. (our youth is looking at me funny by then, like duh...) Communication sure has changed since I was a teen. These are signposts for a relational revolution which I think already started with emails.
Sites like MySpace or Facebook are sites where anyone can post information, pictures, preferences and musing by and about themselves.
On a quick aside, I read in a 12/17/08 Elkhart Truth article that an Australian court has ruled in favor of a mortgage lender using Facebook to contact delinquent payers. I wonder how long it will be before this is legal in America. Makes you think twice about using MySpace or Facebook, doesn’t it?)
While these are designed for people 16 or older, increasing numbers of preteens have been logging on too, declaring or manufacturing their identities for the world to see. On the surface, it seems kind of innocuous. Users can arrange themselves into groups by interest, musical preferences, hobbies, schools and the like. The interactions take place in ways that our kids love and that PC (that would be Pre-Computer – I fall in that category – yikes!) mistrust to varying degrees. On an aside I remember sitting in front of my first computer, an early Apple computer, in business school, holding a floppy diskette and wondering what to do with it. This was 1983 or 84.
Blogs, instant messaging, chat rooms, MySpace and Facebook: In a sense, these have created a virtual community where everyone can participate. The danger we are finding more and more is when predators, like child molestors and pedophiles, enter these sites and pretend to be what they are not. And that is one of the problems some parents and educators have with this. Anyone can participate and not everyone is whom they say they are.
Everyone’s identity is self-generated, which encourages embellishment at the least and outright falsehood at the most. Places like MySpace tap into one of the key tasks of childhood, adolescence and young adulthood, which is discovering one’s identity. Laura Kastner, a Seattle-based adolescent psychologist, says that the popularity of MySpace among young teens “makes perfect sense developmentally because of their burgeoning identity. They can try out different identities and make them up along the way.”
One almost teen we find today in our Scripture text is Jesus and he is growing into his identity and trying to figure things out like any other young person. This is an important passage in the gospel story. At that time, it was laid down by law that every adult male Jew who lived within twenty miles of Jerusalem must attend the Passover feast (The celebration of the Jews being liberated from slavery in Egypt after the Spirit came over the country and killed every first born child of each family, except for the families which had smeared lamb’s blood over their door frame and thus were sparred.) In fact it was the aim of every Jew in all the world at least once in a lifetime to attend that feast. A Jewish boy became a man when he was 12 years old. Then he became a son of the law and had to take the obligations of the law upon him. So at 12 Jesus, for the first time, went to the Passover celebration. Can you imagine what that must have felt like to be in the big city of Jerusalem during Passover for the first time for this country boy? All the sounds and smells and the cheer number of people present. And experiencing the Temple and the sacrifices… This is the only boyhood story of Jesus that is recorded in the canonized (accepted) Scripture. There are some crazy stories found in the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas.
(see http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/infancythomas.html)
When his parents returned home, Jesus lingered behind.
On an aside (I know, another one), I always wondered how come Jesus’ parents did not miss him until they were a day’s travel out of town. But they were not as careless as might first appear to us. Large groups traveled together. Usually the women in a caravan started out much earlier than the men for they traveled more slowly. The men started later and traveled faster and the two sections would not meet until the evening encampment was reached. It was Jesus’ first Passover. No doubt Joseph thought he was with Mary and Mary thought that Jesus was with Joseph.
For the Passover season it was the custom for the Sanhedrin (the High Jewish Court) to meet in public in the Temple court to discuss, in the presence of all who would listen, religious and theological questions. It was there that Mary and Joseph found Jesus. Luke says that he sat among the religious teachers, listening to them and asking questions. (v. 2:46) He is trying to figure who he is and we realize that he has started to find out. When Mary asks, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been frantic, searching for you everywhere” (v. 48), Jesus answered in the most natural way, as if the whole thing was obvious, “But why did you need to search? Didn’t you know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (v. 49)
What we learn from a 12 year old! Not only was he starting to understand WHO is was but he also understood WHOSE he was early on. This is a good reminder for our children but also for all of us adults: Our real identity, our authentic self are not something we create. Instead, we find our true value and purpose in vital relationship with God. What we’re talking about here is not our need for self-invention or reinvention, it’s about the discovery of self that can be fully realized only through relationship with God through Jesus. It’s when we move from MySpace to HisSpace that we discover who we really are and who we are destined to become.
I got an email invitation a few days ago from a friend inviting me along with others friends to join an online-based book group. As I understand it, the discussions, instead of happening face to face, would happen online. I will have to think about that one for a little while. For one, I am trying to get back to a book group I belonged to but stop attending because of my ordination work and too many moves. My other hesitation is that I spend too much time on the internet and e-mails already. I need more face to face contacts and relationships with people.
I believe that the proliferation of sites like MySpace and Facebook and blogs are an indication that we are a relationship-starved society. Things move too fast. People are too busy and our attempt to connect on-line tells me that people are more lonely and more disconnected than ever before. Families are fragmented and distant (geographically and emotionally). Email can be a great thing but it seems to me that people are also trying to feel connected, to feel a sense of belonging, by forming virtual families and friends. There is something a little sad about that. I believe the local church can fill that void and that hunger for relationship and provide a real community instead of a virtual one.
While I can understand how MySpace and Facebook can be a lot of fun - with proper attention to security risks - it cannot define who or whose we are. Virtual relationships on the web can never replace genuine, face to face, heart to heart relationships, especially with the One who made us and love us more than anybody possibly can.
As we are about to enter a new year, I think we need to ask ourselves who we are and who we will be but most importantly we need to ask ourselves WHOSE we are and WHOSE we will be.
Jesus chose to base his identity on the Father and to follow His Father’s will. Will you?
Amen.
You know I am realizing a little more every day that I am getting older and that there are a lot of things around me that I don’t quite get but that I find fascinating nevertheless. A couple of these things are iPods and MP3s (I guess these are the same thing, aren’t they?): I remember buying LPs (33 rpm) and 45s (you know, the vinyl records with a big hole in the middle). I remember when cassette tapes were big and then when they faded away as old dinosaurs when the CDs came out. Now you can’t even give these things away. I guess I was good this year because I got an MP3 player for Christmas! :) I spent some time these past few days charging it and learning how to load songs into it. Pretty cool!
The other thing I find interesting is the phenomenon of websites like MySpace.com and Facebook and Blogs. Somewhere in cyberspace I have a MySpace account. That one was started for me by a youth at a former church I served a couple of years back. I have been invited by several friends to sign into Facebook. So I have one of those too somewhere. The sad part is that I am not sure how to get back on these accounts or how to post anything there. I have a blog now also you know. The good news is that I know where that blog account is and I know how to post texts, and pictures and videos on there too. Whether anybody is looking at my blog is another story. I learned to text from my cell phone this year too. (our youth is looking at me funny by then, like duh...) Communication sure has changed since I was a teen. These are signposts for a relational revolution which I think already started with emails.
Sites like MySpace or Facebook are sites where anyone can post information, pictures, preferences and musing by and about themselves.
On a quick aside, I read in a 12/17/08 Elkhart Truth article that an Australian court has ruled in favor of a mortgage lender using Facebook to contact delinquent payers. I wonder how long it will be before this is legal in America. Makes you think twice about using MySpace or Facebook, doesn’t it?)
While these are designed for people 16 or older, increasing numbers of preteens have been logging on too, declaring or manufacturing their identities for the world to see. On the surface, it seems kind of innocuous. Users can arrange themselves into groups by interest, musical preferences, hobbies, schools and the like. The interactions take place in ways that our kids love and that PC (that would be Pre-Computer – I fall in that category – yikes!) mistrust to varying degrees. On an aside I remember sitting in front of my first computer, an early Apple computer, in business school, holding a floppy diskette and wondering what to do with it. This was 1983 or 84.
Blogs, instant messaging, chat rooms, MySpace and Facebook: In a sense, these have created a virtual community where everyone can participate. The danger we are finding more and more is when predators, like child molestors and pedophiles, enter these sites and pretend to be what they are not. And that is one of the problems some parents and educators have with this. Anyone can participate and not everyone is whom they say they are.
Everyone’s identity is self-generated, which encourages embellishment at the least and outright falsehood at the most. Places like MySpace tap into one of the key tasks of childhood, adolescence and young adulthood, which is discovering one’s identity. Laura Kastner, a Seattle-based adolescent psychologist, says that the popularity of MySpace among young teens “makes perfect sense developmentally because of their burgeoning identity. They can try out different identities and make them up along the way.”
One almost teen we find today in our Scripture text is Jesus and he is growing into his identity and trying to figure things out like any other young person. This is an important passage in the gospel story. At that time, it was laid down by law that every adult male Jew who lived within twenty miles of Jerusalem must attend the Passover feast (The celebration of the Jews being liberated from slavery in Egypt after the Spirit came over the country and killed every first born child of each family, except for the families which had smeared lamb’s blood over their door frame and thus were sparred.) In fact it was the aim of every Jew in all the world at least once in a lifetime to attend that feast. A Jewish boy became a man when he was 12 years old. Then he became a son of the law and had to take the obligations of the law upon him. So at 12 Jesus, for the first time, went to the Passover celebration. Can you imagine what that must have felt like to be in the big city of Jerusalem during Passover for the first time for this country boy? All the sounds and smells and the cheer number of people present. And experiencing the Temple and the sacrifices… This is the only boyhood story of Jesus that is recorded in the canonized (accepted) Scripture. There are some crazy stories found in the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas.
(see http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/infancythomas.html)
When his parents returned home, Jesus lingered behind.
On an aside (I know, another one), I always wondered how come Jesus’ parents did not miss him until they were a day’s travel out of town. But they were not as careless as might first appear to us. Large groups traveled together. Usually the women in a caravan started out much earlier than the men for they traveled more slowly. The men started later and traveled faster and the two sections would not meet until the evening encampment was reached. It was Jesus’ first Passover. No doubt Joseph thought he was with Mary and Mary thought that Jesus was with Joseph.
For the Passover season it was the custom for the Sanhedrin (the High Jewish Court) to meet in public in the Temple court to discuss, in the presence of all who would listen, religious and theological questions. It was there that Mary and Joseph found Jesus. Luke says that he sat among the religious teachers, listening to them and asking questions. (v. 2:46) He is trying to figure who he is and we realize that he has started to find out. When Mary asks, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been frantic, searching for you everywhere” (v. 48), Jesus answered in the most natural way, as if the whole thing was obvious, “But why did you need to search? Didn’t you know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (v. 49)
What we learn from a 12 year old! Not only was he starting to understand WHO is was but he also understood WHOSE he was early on. This is a good reminder for our children but also for all of us adults: Our real identity, our authentic self are not something we create. Instead, we find our true value and purpose in vital relationship with God. What we’re talking about here is not our need for self-invention or reinvention, it’s about the discovery of self that can be fully realized only through relationship with God through Jesus. It’s when we move from MySpace to HisSpace that we discover who we really are and who we are destined to become.
I got an email invitation a few days ago from a friend inviting me along with others friends to join an online-based book group. As I understand it, the discussions, instead of happening face to face, would happen online. I will have to think about that one for a little while. For one, I am trying to get back to a book group I belonged to but stop attending because of my ordination work and too many moves. My other hesitation is that I spend too much time on the internet and e-mails already. I need more face to face contacts and relationships with people.
I believe that the proliferation of sites like MySpace and Facebook and blogs are an indication that we are a relationship-starved society. Things move too fast. People are too busy and our attempt to connect on-line tells me that people are more lonely and more disconnected than ever before. Families are fragmented and distant (geographically and emotionally). Email can be a great thing but it seems to me that people are also trying to feel connected, to feel a sense of belonging, by forming virtual families and friends. There is something a little sad about that. I believe the local church can fill that void and that hunger for relationship and provide a real community instead of a virtual one.
While I can understand how MySpace and Facebook can be a lot of fun - with proper attention to security risks - it cannot define who or whose we are. Virtual relationships on the web can never replace genuine, face to face, heart to heart relationships, especially with the One who made us and love us more than anybody possibly can.
As we are about to enter a new year, I think we need to ask ourselves who we are and who we will be but most importantly we need to ask ourselves WHOSE we are and WHOSE we will be.
Jesus chose to base his identity on the Father and to follow His Father’s will. Will you?
Amen.
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