Engaged!

Well, I was right. Rebecca did not check my last post before we left, so she did not have any clue that I would propose. And, of course, I did. She did say yes and now we are excitedly planning for our wedding. I trust it will all work out, but already I see the challenges of school, work, and wedding planning--not to mention attending weddings galore (May through August). But the future is radiant with possibility and hope, and I am thankful for that.

In addition, the Hampu household welcomed a new addition: Ethan Douglas Einar Torgersen! He is a beautiful baby boy with two loving parents: Rebecca's sister Rachel and her husband Marc. They are so very happy to be parents and will do a magnificent job raising little Ethan. Oh, if you can't tell, I'm a little bit excited about being an uncle-to-be.

With all that taking place over the last few weeks the holidays have been a very exciting and joyful time. There has been much to celebrate and much to be thankful for. I will do my best to be thankful for the snow in Chicago that Rebecca and I must return to, but no promises. I hope everyone has had a blessed holiday season! Grace and Peace.

Holiday Thoughts

As the holidays approach, I've found myself with more time to reflect on the past quarter. It has been a wonderful experience thus far, although there have been many ups and downs. I eagerly await the challenges that await in the rest of the academic year, but for now, I am taking the opportunity to relax (and, yes, even get ahead!). I have been reading some for the upcoming New Testament course that will be taught by THE (once unknown to me) Margaret Mitchell. From what I've seen, heard, and witnessed, she is going to be amazing. In addition, the reading list that she has put together is tremendous and speaks to my interests directly.

In doing some of the reading and reflecting afterwards, I have come to realize that I am very interested in notions of hermeneutics. More specifically, I am interested in what we are doing when we are "meaning" and how we go about "meaning." In more general terms, I want to know how our conceptions of "meaning" affect our readings of sacred texts and the culminating implications for daily and ethical life. This is incredibly relevant to my parallel desire concerning parish ministry.

With all these thoughts swirling in my mind, I hope that these next few weeks will prove enlightening as I ponder my academic and professional direction. As great as a paycheck sounds in three years, I am feeling increasingly drawn toward further academic study and the pursuit of PhD work. The question remains, though, with whom? Who will I study with and under? My thoughts, as of now, are with William Schweiker, who, if you do not know, is an intellectual giant. I am excited to get to know and maybe study with him. But even if it isn't him, I rest assured that somebody here in this great big place will turn up with my interests in mind.

Oh, yeah, and I go on a cruise in a few days. That will be nice. And by nice I mean pretty much incredible as I've never done anything like this in my life. So, you could say, I'm stoked. To top it off, my girlfriend has a big surprise coming to her, and since she never reads my blog, I can safely make this hint here and now. If you catch this before Wednesday, December 19th, please don't make her aware of this little confession. I want it to be a surprise. But of course, I want to show her this public information afterwards. Oh her reaction will be priceless. 'Til then!

Experience Made Text: Text Made Experience

In thinking theologically, we can utilize a vast array of sources for our considerations, speculations, and reflections. In my own life, I have a remembered history: written, oral, and undisclosed; a present circumstance: immediate contact with the external world ; accumulated knowledge; a collection of read material, including sacred Scripture; and thoughts, both expressed and unrevealed. When reflecting on these very categories, I am made aware of the structures which inform my perception of the world and my operation within that world. I believe such a recognition is the starting point for conceiving of “experience” in relation to and a constituent of “text.” Moreover, theological thinking can reflexively draw on this relationship to reorient itself.

The term “experience,” used in our contemporary world in many ways, is filled with layers of meaning. The same phenomena can be observed in our use of “text.” To begin a reflection on experience as it relates to text, we must first identify what “experience” might mean, what “text” might refer to, and how these concepts are inter-related and inter-situated. Doing this in relation to the gospel accounts serves to place such reflections in a theological location within a Christian context. And it is out of this situation that we can self-consciously comment on the happenings of our world.

“Experience” is a term which can be considered an interaction with the world for an individual or group. What makes this term all the more interesting for theological reflection is integrating the notions of time and commonality. Many questions are generated from the conception of time and experience, and the commonality of experience between individuals and groups. If experience has a temporal dimension, what are its limits? Is experience instantaneous or prolonged? Can individuals share similar experience, the same experience, or no experience at all? Can groups do likewise or also not at all? How do the transmitted experiences of others affect or inform my experience? How does my experience affect or inform my group's experience?

Turning to the term “text” makes things more complicated as the term itself appears fraught with ambiguity. Is a “text” a collection of words? Does it refer simply to written or printed signs which suggest something about the world? Does a “text” constitute the world with its signs? Are “texts” only visual? Can music, theater, cinema, conversations, lectures, or silence be “texts”? What, then, is the relationship between a “text” and the world; between a “text” and “experience.”

All of these questions are relevant for theological discourse as it considers human relationship with God, human inter-relationship, God's relationship with the natural world, and human relationship with the natural world. In theological terms, then, the questions become: how do we and how should we interact with the natural world, each other, and God? And, how do these interactions affect our very conceptions of these realities? I believe theological reflection upon the categories of experience and text, especially as they contribute to theological thinking itself, can offer important self-conscious opportunities for the assessment of personal beliefs and practices; and social, cultural and religious happenings.

A particular text, especially one considered “scripture” or writings that should be set apart, can provide a concrete opportunity to see how we relate ourselves to the world and how we conceive of the world relating itself to us. Thus, I will consider the canonical gospel accounts of Jesus of Nazareth to begin an inquiry into “experience” and “text” as it relates to a particular theological perspective: the Christian testimony of Jesus as Christ. Situating myself with a theological text for reflection will, I believe, allow for the reflexive theological thought which I find to be necessary for self-conscious assessment of the world and action within it.

Scriptural Text and Experience

Many religions have special, sacred texts. These are most often written words collected, preserved, and revisited. These texts are most always central, providing a rich source of symbols and formulas for religious practice and thought. From a Jewish point of view, Michael Fishbane writes that “the Bible is a religious teaching, recording moments of meeting between God and man...”1 This understanding of the Bible as scripture can be applied to the Christian canon and the event of Jesus. Thus, this event, presented in the Christian scriptures, is a special moment for religious teaching; a moment filled with the meeting of God and humanity. Dr. Fishbane continues with an important insight: “The received text of Scripture is, as Plato would say, the rescued speech of these meetings.”2

The “rescued speech” is, then, some kind of recording. A way of transmitting the moment of meeting between God and humanity to a new audience, one not initially present. What is being transmitted, it appears, is some kind of experience: a moment in time when humans encounter God in some capacity. This is theologically powerful. It is an engagement with a defining experience in the life of a community which has relation to that experience. For Christians who consider the event of Jesus, their identity is in some way grounded by the experience of the people who presented portions of his life, death, and resurrection in gospel accounts.

But what is the nature of that experience? What is the nature of recalling the experience of Jesus on earth? What is held within the speech that the gospel accounts rescue? Dr. Clark W. Gilpin, in his book A Preface to Theology, writes “the category experience connotes many things. It can refer to what everybody knows or what is intensely private and inaccessible to the public gaze. It may underscore the immediacy of the present by calling attention to a 'defining moment' in the life of a group, or it may instead call to mind the seasoned professional whose 'experience' qualifies her for the job.”3

Text as scripture, as a source of special symbols contributing to the identity of a religious community, seems to presuppose an accessibility. There is something about scripture which members of a community can absorb or ingest. The absorption or ingestion may require guidance and teaching, a hermeneutic peculiar to a particular community; but there is nevertheless a degree of accessibility. Thus, it would seem, the experience recalled by the rescuing speech contains some element which can be commonly shared and understood, especially over time. This is an element which makes theological symbols, as they are presented in scripture, powerful.

And yet, there is something more happening with scripture. There is something which is not accessible in its rescued speech. In some sense, the commonality of experience we presuppose in communication breaks down when we consider the particularity of humanity in the world: the individual nature of human perception located in a layered background of cultural, social, and historical meaning. The meeting of God and humanity in its historical location that scripture attempts to rescue seems, at least partially, inaccessible. There is a tension within scripture: a rescuing and a losing. But it is here that something entirely new emerges.

Experience Made Text

In the act of rendering experience into words, sentences, and scripture “each 'rescued' event is expressed by a dense blend of a particular historical moment and inherited or spontaneous style.”4 Most importantly, there is an inseparable connection between this style—or form—and the historical moment—or content. As a result, “every textual formulation of an event constructs a unique literary reality; to imagine a different formulation of it would be to construct a different reality.”5 The experience is made into text. The process involved transforms the brute content of experience into a literary reality. There is something of this logic inherent in the history of the term “text”:

"An ancient metaphor: thought is a thread, and the raconteur is a spinner of yarns -- but the true storyteller, the poet, is a weaver. The scribes made this old and audible abstraction into a new and visible fact. After long practice, their work took on such an even, flexible texture that they called the written page a textus, which means cloth."6

In this line of reasoning, the portrayal of Jesus in the gospels is a new reality woven together from experiences of his followers. Whether the authors had direct experience of Jesus' life, simply collected oral accounts and disparate written testimonies, or some combination of these; the experience which gave rise to the construction of the text has been transformed by the text into a new literary reality. This is an emergent quality inherent in conceptualizing and expressing our interaction with the world. Sacred scripture as text, then, presents its religious communities with a new reality.

Text Made Experience

This new reality is a world; a world within the text. As such, it can be “experienced.” Here we see one aspect of the power of text, and, thus, one aspect of the power of scripture. Scriptural texts present their readers with an opportunity for a new experience. This experience takes place within a literary world of characters, values, events, behaviors, and objects which are imbued with peculiar meanings. This is a world which a community can enter into, whether in separate locations over time or when assembled together. The community seems to share something of the experience which gave rise to the literary world, but this is layered with the new reality presented in the text itself.

Thus, scripture comes alive through this new experience. Scripture as text not only presents an interpretation of the world, but presents itself for interpretation. Dr. Fishbane writes “As a literary artifact, the words of the Bible require an interpreter for renewed life... For it is the reader who performs the text in his mind, lingers in its silences and suggestions, and so serves as its midwife and voice.”7 The text is voiced by its reader, in mind and out loud, and is experienced by its reader. There is, as a result, a layering of experience mediated by layers of interpretation.

In addition, the emergent literary reality of the text, which presents itself to be newly experienced, in some sense, has a constancy. This constancy is the solidification of the content in a particular formulation: The text as such. Yet, there is the revisitation of the text by the reader. In this process of revisitation, the text is imbued with new life through the accumulation of a broader network of meanings. These are produced in the time between readings with the addition of outside interactions with the world. Thus, the life of Jesus presented in the gospel accounts are living sources for experience, capable of new life in each new reading; rediscovered, reconsidered, and reapplied. In my own autobiographical theological reflections, I noted that “My spiritual story is not a closed remnant of the past. It is a living rough draft: edited in each moment; re-layered by each new experience; reshaped by new people, old friends, and anonymous strangers; re-reflected, re-remembered, and re-lived; endlessly rewritten, reworked, and rediscovered.”8 It is this recognition of newness in a text which brings it to life.

However, sacred scriptures are not often changed, at least to the degree that autobiographical reflections are rewritten and reconfigured over a life time. Thus, when only this material constancy is considered there is a danger in thinking that scripture is “dead,” unable to be read again without finding something new. Yet, when we recognize that just as experience is transformed by the literary world where it is expressed, so too the literary world is re-entered by its reader with the accumulation of meanings gained from the compilation of experiences over time. Consequently, scripture is made alive by the passing time. Although human life seems to move endlessly toward death, texts have the peculiar potential to live into the future with abundant life.

Through this awareness, theology can reflexively consider its own constructiveness by noting the interactive production between text and experience which moves from experience to text, text to experience, and experience to new experience. Theology, as it is grounded in the symbolic universe of sacred texts, can, in a way, reorient itself by reapproaching a central text and rearticulating a new cultural, social, or religious direction through the reinterpretation and reuse of the sacred text. The self-awareness necessary for this conscious reorientation takes place within the reflective practice of encountering “text” and “experience.”

Within the re-experience of scripture the reinterpretation of the gospel accounts of Jesus as Christ occur, yet the theologian must both recognize that this is happening and consider the implications of this constructive process. Foreseeing the consequences of these theological reformulations of Jesus as Christ is an integral component to theological responsibility. And through this scripture not only lives, but, in a way, gives new life to a culture, society, and religious community. This, then, is yet another powerful result of scripture as text. For where there is text, there is experience, where there is experience there is interpretation, and where there is self-recognized interpretation, there is the possibility for new interpretations to carry out transformation.
------------------------------------------------
1Michael Fishbane. Text and Texture: A literary reading of selected texts. (Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 1998), xi.
2Fishbane, xi
3Clark Gilpin. A Preface to Theology. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 173.
4Fishbane, xi.
5Fishbane, xi.
6Robert Bringhurst. The Elements of Typographical Style. (Vancouver: Hartley and Marks Publishers, 2002). Quoted in Doug Harper. “Text.” Online Etymology Dictionary. November 2001. (6 December 2007).
7Fishbane, xi – xii.
8This quotation was taken from an autobiographical reflection presented in written and oral form to the 1st year Master of Divinity Colloquium at the University of Chicago, September 2007.

Pre-Reflections on Text and Experience

At the end of this quarter, my first quarter of divinity school, I will be asked to communicate my thoughts on the relationship between text and experience. Specifically, as I engage in theological thinking, I am asking myself how experience, writing, and thinking in terms of theology inter-relate, inter-situate, and inter-change. All of this is profoundly challenging, and yet, curiously provocative.

I thought it might be best to pre-reflect on text and experience. These pre-reflections are "pre" in the sense that they are my initial attempts to capture--in words--how I understand that interrelationship of text and experience, and "reflections" in the sense that I am looking again or looking anew on these categories.

I have found writing to be incredibly therapeutic. Not simply in the cathartic sense, but in the formative one. Writing, for me, is an opportunity to solidify my thoughts. However, the solidification is not one of permanence, but of reference. Only when I solidify my thoughts can I come to terms with myself: I can affirm or resist my initial descriptions and conceptions. This is an interesting process for several reasons:

First, the very act of writing shapes previous experience and current thought in unique ways. It takes content and molds it in the form of novel words, phrases, paragraphs, and entire narratives or texts. In a sense, I admit, this is a modification of experience. It is the act of selecting from experience certain things for certain purposes which then re-impose themselves on the unselected material.

Second, the act of re-reading one's writing is an opportunity for revision; literally a seeing again. We can choose to see that experience through the lens of that writing or resist that writing altogether for a better, fuller, or alternative formulation.

Third, the process of (re)formulating experience is an act of emergence. It is the emergence of ideas which might otherwise not exist. The ideas are caught up in the words themselves, and it is only in working and reworking these words that such ideas can ever be embraced or denied.

Finally, the interplay between vision and revision, writing and rewriting is a dialogical trajectory which builds upon itself. It is dialogue with oneself while simultaneously constructing oneself.

Thus, much of my writing is not permanent assertion--although it may initially be an assertion--but reference. It is a point of reference which I can revisit and reassess. But it is a necessary starting point from which to continue and build. I believe that with my time spent at the university I will be wrestling with the theological process of self-formation. I hope that what I construct will be helpful and meaningful for others as they journey alongside me.

First Quarter Reflections

The first quarter has flown by so quickly. Midterms have come and gone. Papers are being formulated for finals, and books are coming to completion (by coming to completion I mean I am scrambling to catch up on all the readings which I have not done...). Amidst the fury of the finale, I must say that life here is good. Good people, good food, good conversations, good classes, and good sleep (I think that has been the most helpful lately).

Good People:
I have had the wonderful opportunity to meet, learn about, and come to know many, many good people. People with good hearts, sharp minds, and strong wills. People who care for the oppressed, down-trodden, and marginalized in theory, and, as it seems, in practice. People who want to devote themselves to justice and the up-building of those around them. I have met social workers, future church leaders, future public-policy makers, and the probable campaign manager of our next generation politician. Whatsmore, it appears that these whom I have met are not just good people presently, but will continue to be so. For that I am thankful to be a part of such a community.

Good Food:
My dad recently came to Chicago and he was so kind as to take Rebecca and I out to eat. We visited a Brazilian resturaunt downtown, Fogo-de-Chao, which "made me want to be a better person." It was nice to change up my diet from canned soups and pb&j sandwiches to fresh fruit, vegetables and the most incredible selection of meats. It was a beautiful experience. Truly. I don't normally name my eating experiences "Beautiful"... but this definately deserves that description. The whole dining experience made me so appreciative to be in the city of Chicago where such opportunities are possible (although more for the financially privileged). Chicago is a cool place with cool stuff--good food being one such cool thing.

Good Conversations:
Whether its public church (at times) or the DDH basement, there are wonderful conversations which take place here at uChicago. Reflections on identity, God, meaning, purpose, freedom, destiny, culture, social responsibility, economics, and sports, along with the occasional silliness of sarcastic exchanges, all make the experience here so rich. I am fortunate to be in dialogue with a variety of different perspectives, backgrounds, theologies, ethnicities, concerns, and lives. There is much to discover, much to appreciate, and, as always, much to learn.

Good Classes:
Although some may disagree, I have found all my classes (for the most part) intellectually engaging. Public Church has reshaped my approach to ministry, Hebrew Bible has amplified my attention to the detail and constructedness of the Christian "1st Testament", Concepts of Religion in Modern Theology has introduced me to a number of new thinkers with provocative perspectives, and Greek is just plain cool. I think I love language. All this to say, I'm looking forward to next quarter when I can have a new smattering of classes to enjoy.

Good Sleep:
Thank goodness for good sleep. I don't know what I would do without it. Of course, its not good sleep all the time, but its good sleep enough to keep me going. I must say, I have yet to turn on my heater, which makes my room frigid as the season moves toward winter. But, the cozy comfort of my bed is a warm haven for deep sleep. It reminds me of growing up in Oregon. No heating except for a wood stove (which we huddled around to thaw out when we woke up in the dead of winter). Good memories. Good sleep.

Spiritual Chapter

My spiritual story is defined by vulnerability. It is a story of vulnerability.

My spiritual story is not a closed remnant of the past. It is a living rough draft: edited in each moment; re-layered by each new experience; reshaped by new people, old friends, and anonymous strangers; re-reflected, re-remembered, and re-lived; endlessly rewritten, reworked, and rediscovered.

This is one chapter in a spiritual story of vulnerability. My story of vulnerability is translated through the peculiar and important voices of each chapter, and it is in this particular chapter that I found the virtuous voice of humility. Against such a backdrop I recall moments of becoming, theological re-birthing, and religious reorientation.

Becoming

I am vulnerable. But I haven't always been aware of my vulnerability.
As a youngster growing up in Oregon I clung closely to my religious upbringing and “moral center.” A member of the Nazarene Church, my religiosity, faith, and morality grounded my confidence and motivated my movements. I didn't swear, I didn't run in church, I didn't celebrate Halloween, I always played nice (okay not always), and I learned from the bible through Sunday school, bible quizzing, memory verses, children's church, and family devotionals.

Just as “learning the bible” was important, so was learning. I was a good kid, and I did what good kids do: excel in school. Of course, as I found out, the whole learning process is not limited to absorbing the “facts” of the external world. The learning process may move us to engage ourselves, and to become, self-consciously, the subject of our own understanding. As my learning turned inward, my vulnerability emerged: What if the religion I practice, the faith I affirm, and the world as I understand it could be otherwise? My first answer: it can't be otherwise, so find reasons why everything is as you see it.

As a “high schooler” in Kentucky I was constantly in pursuit of justification for the Christian (specifically my Christian) way of life, way of thinking, and way of reading the bible. I felt that “knowing God” meant knowing God. I thought that reading the NIV student bible, through a few selected New Testament passages, was the only correct way to read the bible. And thus, from my proper reading of the bible, I recognized, logically, that there was a very limited way to correctly live. In all this, there was an underlying desire for total assurance to guarantee that my faith was not delusional, stupid, or ridiculous. I embarked on a Cartesian-like quest for spiritual validity. I wanted a firm, solid, tremorless ground for my faith to build a life.

It was in looking for a tremorless ground that I experienced an earthquake. College presented all kinds of challenges to my thinking, both religiously and otherwise. Hearing new theological perspectives, engaging alternative readings of the biblical text, and, most importantly, questioning the very assumptions which grounded my faith, denominational affiliation, and life proved—at least for a time—to be a faith crisis.

I was immersed in a chaotic course of questioning which drew me deeper into unsettling insecurity about the contingencies of my existence, choices, and cultural location. I began to sense that I might have been wrong, that I might not have it all together, and that maybe, just maybe, there were other ways of thinking, reading, and doing which carried purpose, meaning, and truth. At the core of my crisis dwelt the most problematic thought: What if the God I've “known”, the God I've enjoyed, the God I've lived for does not exist as I've understood it? What if God doesn't exist at all? What if Christianity is an invalid, abusive system of corruption and greed which inculcates blind followers toward meaningless existence? This was a bad thing: an earth-shaking, ground-rocking crisis. This was my crisis of faith.

If the world isn't just as I've thought it to be, just as I've known it to be, just as securely in my grasp as I've secretly wanted it to be, then what is this world and this “God”? What if the religion I practice, the faith I affirm, and the world as I understand it could be otherwise? My second answer: it must be otherwise.

I entertained thoughts of atheism, and, for a while, felt numb enough to consider myself “okay” with the world around me. But my vulnerability wasn't solved. I still had reasons to think God could exist, or that my now old “faith” might have had some valid grounding. It was amidst this endless questioning and reconsidering that I came to a sudden and transformative realization. Maybe my problem is not with the content of my questions or doubts, but with questioning and doubting itself.

Up until that point, I hadn't really admitted the possibility of being wrong. Sure, we all say “yeah, I could be wrong” but I hadn't really admitted it. I may have admitted being wrong at particular instances in the past. But I definitely hadn't admitted the possibility that in everything I do, think, or say, I might be wrong. I hadn't admitted my vulnerability. I hadn't entertained the possibility of fallibility authentically, truthfully... existentially.

Theological Re-birthing

I am vulnerable. But I haven't always been aware of its life-affirming power.
In a moment of authenticity and truthfulness, my vulnerability transformed itself into humility. The insecurity and insufficiency of my life became the groundwork for the meaning and direction which I applied to life's events. Christianity, religion, and faith no longer concerned me in terms of absolute epistemic justification. Instead, my faith became a transparent resting place before God. As a finite, limited, unsure person I knelt before the alter of sufficiency and declared my own lack thereof.

I finally admitted that I could be wrong about my faith, my religion, and my encounter with the world, but despite that admission I affirmed my faith, my Christian heritage, and my interaction with the world nonetheless. I found the courage to affirm myself—to live—in spite of my insecurity, vulnerability, and limitedness.

The result was a humble faith, ever aware of fallibility and insufficiency, but willing to push forward in spite of such difficult circumstances. This new courage was powerful. And my life took on renewed purpose as a Christian living with uncertainty.

Religious Re-orientation

I am vulnerable. And I must live that way.

He has told you, O man, what is good;
And what does the LORD require of you
But to do justice, and to love kindness,
And to walk humbly with your God?
--Micah 6:8

Through a succession of strange events I came across a Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) congregation where, eventually, I would be asked to pastor. Knowing full well that they recognized my lack of training, absence of previous experience, and young age, I agreed. In the most humbling experience of my life, I discovered the beauty of sharing my vulnerability with others. My vulnerability was not something I ran from, but something I embraced with others. It was in our vulnerability, admitted before each other, that I was able to connect and commune with a congregation of faithful men and women in such a way as I had never experienced before. It was in this communion that I truly shared myself, in all my weakness, with those around me. In so doing, I walked alongside a woman going through a traumatic divorce, a middle-aged man battling a life of drug-abuse and family hardship, a young girl leaving behind her family to chase academic pursuits, and a family concerned for the life-decisions of their daughter. It was only out of my humility, vulnerability, and weakness that I could approach these people, their concerns, and struggle with them to search for answers.

It was in this community of faith that I discovered a desire to pursue ministry: not out of strength but out of weakness. Out of my humility came a direction and path that I had previously never considered for myself but which made itself readily apparent to me. And it is here, pursuing that path, that I find myself reflecting, reconsidering, and remembering a life that resisted vulnerability only to find peace within it. My hope is that this vulnerability, manifested as humility in all my pursuits, would be a source of courage and strength as I continue to live out my spiritual story, chapter by chapter.

Faith, Justice, and Hands

Luke 18: 1 – 8

I don't have many opportunities to watch movies much these days, but I made some time recently to watch “Hotel Rwanda.” Several people had recommended this particular movie to me, and in my days at Centre College I overheard the conversation of a student, from Rwanda, who had experienced and survived the genocidal war that killed hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children. So, being ignorant of that conflict, I thought this movie might provide a little more than a night's worth of entertainment; it did.

There was one specific moment in the movie when I felt a flood of emotions cascading upon me: anger, frustration, shame, fear, and yet, through it all, hope.

It was a moment when the main character, played by Don Cheadle, thanks a television journalist for shooting footage of the atrocities afflicting the Rwandan people; images recording piles of bodies, machete massacres, and bloodied children:

Paul Rusesabagina: I am glad that you have shot this footage and that the world will see it. It is the only way we have a chance that people might intervene.
Jack: Yeah and if no one intervenes, is it still a good thing to show?
Paul Rusesabagina: How can they not intervene when they witness such atrocities?
Jack: I think if people see this footage they'll say, "oh my God that's horrible," and then go on eating their dinners.

I've been that person, casually acknowledging the injustices, brutalities, and afflictions that fill the world around me. I've been that person. I've ignored the calls for help and the shouts for mercy. I've been that person who went on eating dinner, satisfied and comfortable with my life, paying little to no attention toward the people who are suffering around me. I've been that person. Maybe, this morning, you have been that person too.

Or, maybe, you have been a person afflicted and crying out for help. Maybe you have been the recipient of the injustice in our world and cried out for God's mercy. This morning, I want to suggest that our scripture speaks both to the “comfortable” and the “uncomfortable”; to the afflicted and to those who can meet their cry for help. And through this I ask that we look for a dimension of our faith we may have forgotten, lost, or not yet discovered.

In our scripture today Jesus offers us a parable, which has already been contextualized for us: “Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not lose heart.” From the very beginning we are given a lens by which to understand this story. It is a way to see ourselves, to find encouragement, and to embrace hope.

Jesus continues with a parable about a marginalized member of society: a widow. With no husband for support and no right to inherit the husband's estate, widows were vulnerable, needy members of society. And it is no coincidence that Luke's gospel continuously references the plight and circumstances of widows, or that the early church ministered specifically to widows. I suggest to you this morning that our widow stands in place of the marginalized, the vulnerable, the needy, the forgotten members of our society, of any society.

In our parable, Jesus narrates the endless requests of a widow demanding justice from a judge. Our judge had no reverence for God, nor any respect for people (v. 2). This judge, characterized as anything but impartial, does not grant the request of the widow. Maybe he was waiting for a bribe. Maybe he was wanting to consider the power and status of the unnamed opponent. Regardless, this judge would not hear her cry for justice. And yet, our widow persists. She does not give up, she does not cease. And, finally, the unjust judge relents (v. 5). The unjust judge who eventually hears the cry of justice and submits to it is immediately contrasted with God: the swift benefactor of justice (v.8). We are made aware that God, unlike the unjust judge, acts quickly and establishes justice for the afflicted. Seen in light of verse 1 of Luke's 18th chapter, we recognize the importance of continual, ceaseless prayer, ever-hopeful for the justice of God.

And yet, this is not the whole story; it is not a simple reminder for the afflicted to pray, for the tormented to cry out to God. The final words of our parable this morning ask us a poignant question: “when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” Well, would he? Would the Son of Man find a faith where the afflicted take hope in God's justice and never stop crying out in prayer? Would the Son of Man find a faith which seeks out those prayers, which listens to the voices crying out?

In our parable this morning, I want to suggest that many of us may have been the widow, marginalized and afflicted, tormented and forgotten. But I also want to suggest that we are the justice of God, the physical hands of God's divine justice liberating the oppressed, welcoming the marginalized, comforting the afflicted, remembering the forgotten.

Our parable this morning speaks to the “comfortable” because it calls us out of our comfort toward action; toward service; specifically, toward justice.

I'm reminded of Chapter 8 verse 6 of Micah which asks: “And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (6:8)

Our parable this morning speaks to the “uncomfortable” because it reminds us to be persistent in our prayer, persistent in our crying out, persistent in our hope for the justice of God and God's comforting presence.

Our parable this morning speaks to us all because it not only encourages us to be persistent in our prayers and seek after God's comfort in our lives, but it also informs our faith. It informs our faith of the uncomfortable call to live out God's justice, to be the hands of God's justice.

I'm reminded of the hands of a southern farmer who was a tireless member of my last congregation. He was a man whose hands were rugged and tough, dirtied and soiled. He was a man whose hands told a story about his life; a man whose hands revealed his hard-working, laborsome efforts to provide food for his family, help for his neighbors, and services for his church. A man whose hands never quit.

When the Son of Man returns will he find faith on earth? I believe he will. Because I believe in the “hands of working people”... in the crusted, scarred, filthy, calloused hands of God's people, God's servants. I believe in your hands, I believe in my hands. And although our hands may not be perfect, I believe our hands can be God's justice.

I hope that when we see the atrocities of the world around us, that we will not haphazardly take note of yet another “terrible thing” and then, turning our back, go on with dinner, go on with our comfortable lives. I hope that tragedy effects us. That God's justice infects us. To borrow a phrase from David Vargas, the Disciple's President of the Department of Overseas Ministry, I hope that we are “contaminated with a passion” for God's mission, purpose and justice in our immediate world, and the world at large. I must admit that in doing this, there is not one “cookie-cutter” answer. We have the freedom to live out our passion, our “infection”, our “contamination” creatively, faithfully, uniquely. We can find a ministry in this church, in the regional church, or in the national church. Or, we can search for a ministry outside this church.

But I encourage you to find the place where your passion and God's passion converge. I believe that in doing this, in becoming and being the hands of God to the world around us, that we also receive God's healing hands upon our own lives.

I think the lyrics of the following song speak profoundly (hold paper):

I guess silence is not an option at this stage
I've been comfortable too long now, turn the page
I see shadows all around meBut to me it's proof of Your light

Show yourself to me, so I can show you to them
Give me what it takes to let me go
There's a world out there that's dyin'

Father please forgive them
For they know not what they do
Father won't You show me how
To have working man hands

You said if you love me you'll obey me, I've wondered why
You gave Your life for those around me, so should I
God forbid that I should stand before
YouOn that day, with unblemished hands

O God...
May our hands be Your hands of Justice.
May our hands be clasped in ceaseless prayer.
Amen.

Sadaam just needed his Islamic Bible...

I received an e-mail recently which not only shocked me with its “biblical geography”, but with the very revealing perspective many citizens of our country believe we have in the world (see the interpretive move with the symbol of the “eagle” at the end of the e-mail). This “chain mail” provides ample material for all sorts of reflections. Enjoy!


VERY INTERESTING-
1. The Garden of Eden was in Iraq
2. Mesopotamia, which is now Iraq, was the cradle of civilization!
3. Noah built the ark in Iraq
4. The Tower of Babel was in Iraq
5. Abraham was from Ur, which is in Southern Iraq !
6. Isaac ' s wife Rebekah is from Nahor, which is in Iraq !
7. Jacob met Rachel in Iraq
8. Jonah preached in Nineveh - which is in Iraq
9. Assyria, which is in Iraq, conquered the ten tribes of Israel
10. Amos cried out in Iraq !
11 Babylon , which is in Iraq , destroyed Jerusalem
12. Daniel was in the lion ' s den in Iraq !
13. The three Hebrew children were in the fire in Iraq (Jesus had been in Iraq also as the fourth person in the Fiery Furnace!)
14. Belshazzar, the King of Babylon saw the 'writing on the wall' in Iraq
15. Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, carried the Jews captive into Iraq
16. Ezekiel preached in Iraq ..
17. The wise men were from Iraq
18. Peter preached in Iraq
19. The 'Empire of Man' described in Revelation is called Babylon , which was a city in Iraq!
And you have probably seen this one: Israel is the nation most often mentioned in the Bible.

But do you know which nation is second?
It is Iraq !

However, that is not the name that is used in the Bible.
The names used in the Bible are Babylon , Land of Shinar, and Mesopotamia . The word Me sopotamia means between the two rivers, more exactly between the Tigris
And Euphrates Rivers ..

The name Iraq , means country with deep roots.

Indeed Iraq is a country with deep roots and is a very significant country in the Bible.
No other nation, except Israel , has more history and prophecy associated with it than Iraq

And also, This is something to think about: Since America is typically represented by an eagle.
Saddam should have read up on his Muslim passages...

The following verse is from the Koran, (the Islamic Bible)

Koran ( 9:11 ) - For it is written that a son of Arabia would awaken a fearsome Eagle. The wrath of the Eagle would be felt throughout the lands of Allah and lo, while some of the people trembled in despair still more rejoiced; for the wrath of the Eagle cleansed the lands of Allah;
And there was peace.

(Note the verse number!) Hmmmmmmm?!

This is a ribbon for soldiers fighting in Iraq
Pass it on to everyone and pray.

Pulpit, Power, and Purpose

A recent conference held at the University of Chicago considered the relationship of Pulpit and Classroom in terms of advocacy. The conversations were oriented around the ethics of "advocating" in a religious and/or academic setting. Thought-provoking, challenging, and inspiring, the conference furnished ample material for reflection. I hope that my thoughts prove interesting, useful, and/or helpful for you.

The keynote address was offered by Dr. Franklin Gamwell, who provided a theoretical framework in which to reflect on the issues being considered. Dr. Gamwell began by carefully and narrowly defining religious communities and academic communities. Specifically, he built his definitions around the engagement of the "original" human question: "What makes human life ultimately worth living?" Religious communities, he proposed, give answers to this question. Academic communities, on the other hand, do not assert an answer or any answer, but provide a setting for critical reflections on proposed answers in order to assess the truth of such claims. In religious communities, certain things are assumed and then used to provide answers to the ultimate human question. But in academic communities, nothing can be assumed. Everything must remain open to question and argumentation. This openness to question and argumentation is a parameter for "discourse": the suspension of beliefs to examine the truth-hood of a belief.

Narrowing the focus, Gamwell suggested that Christians cultivate authenticity (living with the true Christian answer to the human question) through acting on belief in Jesus the Christ. In relation to Christian belief, academic discourse suspends belief to determine the validity of the Christian answer to the original human question. Theology, then, as a subset of academic discourse, critically reflects on Christian claims toward the original, ultimate human question.

Given this framework, we can begin to ask important ethical questions. What is the role of the preacher (a member of a religious community)? And what is the role of the teacher (a member of an academic community)? Provided the above definitions, how are preachers to preach and teachers to teach? What ethical considerations guide the appropriate use of speech when thinking on what to say and how to say it? Are specific topics inappropriate for certain settings?

Gamwell suggested that claims, which are announced and not discussed or argued, are not, in fact, "discourse." Thus, advocating through claims, which are not eligible for discussion or critique, is not appropriate for the academic setting. In contrast, such claims may be acceptable in the religious setting (i.e. from the pulpit) where "complete discourse" may not be suitable.

This is not to say that "answers" to the human question cannot be provided in the academic setting, but that they must be bound by discourse and not simply asserted. Whatsmore, religious settings can offer opportunities for discourse, but that such discourse is difficult (if not impossible) in a "preaching setting" where there is only one voice (that of the preacher).

Dr. Gamwell's presentation and the subsequent discussions were fuel for thought as I considered my own preaching, my own teaching, and my own future. The questions “how did I preach?” and “how will I preach?” became the question “how should I preach?” In my year at Perryville Christian Church, I intended and attempted to espouse a conversational approach to preaching. Specifically, I hoped to spark discussion, dissension, and constructive consideration. Many times I was unsuccessful, but on a few occasions I found success in my attempts. Those moments of discussion and dissension were not only fruitful, but healthy for the congregation, myself, and the community.

Now, after attending the conference, I might couch my approach to preaching in new terms: discursive homiletics. Instead of accepting the dichotomy between preaching with claims (religious community) and withholding assent for deliberation of claims (academic community), why not (attempt to) bridge the gap between academy and religion through preaching with teaching in mind. In other words, instead of offering a sermon that is creatively interpreted truth, exempt from question or communal consideration, why not offer the sermon as the starting point for discussion, question, dissension, debate, and reflection?

The problem with this approach is the differing church structures within the Christian faith. Polity most definitely changes how we consider preaching. For me, a member of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), the “priesthood of all believers”, congregational autonomy, resistance to creeds, and a heritage of rational inquiry make a discursive homiletic possible. However, a church polity characterized by strict hierarchies and creedal affirmations complicate the matter.

As a Disciples preacher, I can offer my sermon as “presentation.” I can responsibly provide, within my sermon, my assumptions and hermeneutical framework. After exposing my assumptions and interpretive lens, I can also point to, describe, or offer complementary, competing, or contradicting perspectives about the content of my sermon. I can ask the congregation (rhetorically, of course) to follow my thinking down a particular road while admitting and even describing of other paths.

But for more hierarchical communities of faith, the clergy may, in practice, be forced into “re-presentation”; namely, re-presenting what has already been presented as true for the denomination or religious community as a whole. The priest, minister, or pastor may be communicating creatively what is asserted (claimed) hierarchically. There is no room (or at least much less room) for communal conversation regarding elements of faith, practice, and dogma. As a result, discursive homiletics is not (as) possible.

I believe there may be (or, in fact, are) creative ways to resolve this difficulty within more strictly structured churches, but I feel the freedom of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) provides an advantage for developing and practicing a type of preaching which will (I believe) effectively engage a post-modern culture interested in conversation rather than firm assertion. The growth of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) may depend on a discursive homiletic seeking an active, responsive mind and not simply a listening ear. I have come to find in my engagement with unchurched individuals, religiously disenfranchised individuals, congregants, youth, and new church movements that more and more people are desiring religious leaders who will preach “with” rather than preach “at”. Already I have seen churches (and not just Disciple Churches) make steps in the direction of “presentation,” and I hope that such a trajectory will be investigated, tested, and pursued.

The pulpit is a place of great power. It is a space which can be used to shape individual people, congregations, entire communities, and the world. Making room within that space for conversation may amplify the power the pulpit possesses, and it may intensify the transformation catalyzed by the Christian message.

Open Theism

There is a theological perspective, grounded in "free-will" thinking and augmented by a particular philosophy of time, which argues for a new understanding of God's foreknowledge.

(1) The classical view of God asserts that God is omniscient (or, all-knowing). To be omniscient is understood to mean that all things that exist can be known. What, then, exists that can be known? Typically, all actions and events-past, present, and future-are within the scope of God's knowledge. However, this presupposes that the future has, in some sense, already happened (a glorified "past" in the mind of God). But why must future events and actions already exist? The open theist is led to ask: How can future events, actions, and decisions already be objects of God's knowledge?

Open theists would argue that the future is not already determined; it has not already "happened" so to speak. The future, being OPEN to what WILL happen, is not within the scope of God's knowledge (omniscience). This is not because God DOES NOT know, but because the future is empty and has nothing which can be known. This open view of the future allows for God to remain omniscient, although augmenting what is possible for God to know. The future is no longer an object of God's knowledge simply because it is no longer concrete; no longer an object.

This shift in the understanding of omniscience changes how we concieve of God. But not entirely.

(2) The new "omniscience" does not hinder God's Will or God's Plan for human history. For open theists, God can still steer the course of human history toward a divine end which culminates in the triumph of God's goodness over the forces of evil and death. This is done not through absolute control, for God does not know and therefore does not absolutely control human decision, but through intimate present knowledge and unlimited reaction.

God, still omniscient, thoroughly knows the present. God knows all of the individual decisions that a person may or may not make, and has a specific reaction for each of those decisions (when they come about) which will ultimately lead to God's end. Thus, divine providence has not been evacuated from the picture, only modified.

(3) This view is not abstractly detached from the biblical text. According to open theists, the texts speak of a collective destiny which is still determined by God, but remains open to individual decisions, beliefs, and actions. This must be true, says the open theist, because moral decisions are punishable, which presupposes the freedom to choose between what is right and what is wrong. For this to occur, the future must not be closed, but open to the possibility of choice.

In other words, God knows where history will go, just not how, because that is up to us. In this view, there is no longer a God which makes humans passive recipients of what happens, but active agents of what will come about. And this, says the open theist, is worth understanding.

The Activity of Change

Before I left for the city of Chicago, my brother and I had a discussion about the limitations of consciousness. We both agreed that space and time are very apparent to us, but my brother argued that perception/consciousness could occur outside the boundaries of space-time. For him, it was possible to exist in space and percieve reality without the constraint of time. I argued (probably not well) for the impossibility of perception/consciousness without the constraint of space OR time. For me, both are fundamental to conscious existence; they are the framework for consciousness.

For me, such a realization--that we are active in creating the world we percieve due to our "framework of perception"--leads us to important theological, philosophical, and ethical projects. More specifically, when we become aware of our conscious activity in the world, it becomes evermore important to responsibly develop benevolent and meaningful belief structures which lend themselves to mutual up-building. It is easy to sit back and passively accept a "false world", one which we think asserts itself upon us. But I think we are agreeing to see the world this way; an active acceptance cloaked in passivity. The world isn't necessarily this way. The world can be different, and we can be a part of making that change.

I think this is most notable in expressions like "that's just the way it is" or "that's just the way I am." These expressions resist the activity which can lead to change. Although not all change is necessarily good, good change only results from betterment, and betterment can only be brought about by activity. The psychological implications of seeing yourself in an active world are far reaching because they require us to do, think, and say. We can no longer sit back and feel good about how things "must be." Instead we can see the world as a place that can be better; a place that can change. This is because we can be better; we can change.

"Liberal" and "Conservative"

I was speaking with a friend this week and during our conversation he informed me that a mutual acquaintance of ours had labeled me a "liberal." For those of you who do not know me personally, I strongly resist labels, especially the nomenclature of political idealogy. So, of course, I was a little disappointed to be pigeonholed so readily by someone who truly doesn't know my theological or political viewpoints. With that said, he was right.

After reflecting for a while I realized that I am a "liberal"... compared to him (at least I think). We often use these descriptive terms so absolutely to characterize ourselves and others, but I believe they tend to be more relative than we allow. For example, I was a substitute at Perryville Elementary this past school year and recieved the opportunity to play with third and fourth graders at recess. I shot basketball with them, chased many of them in fun, and went down the slides. While playing, many of the children called me "fast." I could run faster than them, and maybe faster than other people they had watched run. But--placing that ego-building compliment aside for a moment--am I fast?

As a football player, I was not fast. I wasn't slow either (although in high school I did have a coach inform me that he watched me score "the slowest touchdown" he had ever seen). I would consider myself of average speed. Now compared to some, specifically linemen, I was pretty fast. But compared to others, most notably Centre College's Adam Clark and Adam Blandford (who were exceptionally speedy), I was rather slow. So what am I? Slow? Fast? Well, I guess it all comes down to your frame of reference. Maybe the schoolkids were right: I am fast... compared to them.

The truth is terms like "conservative" and "liberal" are both very relative. They are descriptors which do not indicate the actual gradation of "conservative" or "liberal". For instance, what exactly is between a conservative and a liberal? Are these people neither conservative nor liberal? Or are they a convergence of the two, both liberal and conservative? Some may think one can't exist without falling neatly into one of the two categories. In contrast to this, I think we are all liberal, and we are all conservative. How much of each makes up our present perspective.

Whatsmore, our perspectives change over time. We might be a liberal liberal as a college student, and swing to be a liberal conservative after three kids and a mortgage (notice how "liberal" and "conservative" are both nouns and adjectives). It might not be fair to characterize anyone as a liberal or a conservative unless we are willing to acknowledge the historical deviations of that person's past and the potential changes of their future. I think it would be a good-faith gesture to recognize the descriptors "liberal" and "conservative" as being uniquely present-tense.

So, yes, I am a liberal. I am also a conservative. I am the individual who is both liberal and conservative, and if you want to know how that mixture is currently balanced, ask me. Labels are too often used for dismissals or uncritical support. I hope you do neither with me or anyone else. Instead, I hope you ask what people think, talk with people about their ideas and concerns, and work to make a better future for all of us. I don't care if you are "liberal" or "conservative." Because its the people who make this world better, not the names we give them.

Chicago!

Well, I've made it to Chicago, a city of many names which include the Windy City, Chi-town, and the Second City (just to name a few). I was welcomed by the short runway of Midway and a dreary drizzle of rain. Although the weather seemed unconcerned with my arrival, I still feel very excited to be in a city filled with new possibilities and continual challenges. I believe school will be daunting, rigorous, and rewarding; and city life will be large, loud, dangerous, and fun. Through all of this, I look forward to connecting with an academic and religious community here at the divinity school and throughout the city.

My immediate concerns are to finish unpacking, find a close banking site, figure out the mass transit system, and then think about visiting churches.

But for now, I intend to eat. Until next time, Grace and Peace.

August Letter 2007

It is difficult to come to terms with this my last letter to you. Eleven months have moved by so quickly. I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your kindness, gentleness, encouragement, involvement, and support in my development and learning process as your pastor. I came with no credentials, but I leave with lasting memories, important lessons, and a true family of faith. I love you all and hope the best for you as individuals and as a community of faith. I firmly believe that God can move in tremendous and transformative ways in Perryville, Kentucky. May God's Kingdom be made real here with you.

I want to spend my last lines of ink on a provocative question that I heard posed a year and a half ago and which resurfaced in the past few weeks: “If Jesus' bones were found, would Christianity cease to to be true?” This question is only hypothetical, but it asks us to traverse troubling waters of possibility and to exercise our minds and hearts in a way unfamiliar to many of us. Would the bones of Jesus nullify the claims of Christianity?

For some, avoidance is the best defense. Outright dismissal of the question allows us to safely live in the “reality” of our Faith: Jesus Christ has risen indeed! But the question posed to us asks us to explain what such a “reality” means. Namely, what did, does, and could “resurrection” mean. The issue of Jesus' bodily resurrection has been a central tenant of Christian faith for centuries, but is this necessary? I don't want to dismiss the faith of those who believe in a bodily resurrection, rather I want to challenge that such a faith must be grounded in a bodily resurrection.

Paul had to explore the issue of bodily resurrection in his letters found in the New Testament. When asked about the type of body resurrected believers might have, he responded in a very careful way. The Greek word for flesh (sarx) was not used to describe the resurrected body. The Greek word for spirit (pneuma) was not used to describe the resurrected body. Instead Paul referred to a heavenly body (soma), which appears to be both physical and spiritual, and which appears to give continuity with this life while liberating us to the heavenly realm.

To be honest, Paul's description of the heavenly body is vaguely understandable at best. However, we can recognize that there is something distinctively different about the resurrected body. It is not identical with our flesh and bones. Yet it has a physical relation to the reality we recognize and experience.

How does this apply to Jesus? Well, much like Paul's description of the heavenly body, the description of the risen Christ is a strange combination of physical and non-physical properties. Christ walks through walls, disappears, and ascends to heaven. Yet, Christ is touchable, just ask Thomas. Christ looks real, just ask (if only we could) the traveling duo who didn't even realize they were speaking with the risen Christ. The gospel accounts of the resurrection are very comparable to Paul's writings about heavenly bodies. So, what do we make of this?

I want to suggest that the physical bones of Jesus do not have any necessary cancellation powers over our Faith. The message of Christ's resurrection is not a matter of resuscitation. We do not worship the resuscitated Jesus, but the Risen Christ! The rising of Christ into God's presence is a powerful truth; one that is not invalidated by bones or a filled tomb. Resurrection is not limited to a purely physical revival. Instead it is different. Christ can be resurrected and the bones of Jesus available for archaeological discovery.

So what, then, does “resurrection” mean? Well, it could mean many different things to many different people. For me, resurrection speaks to the triumphant message of Jesus' cause: the forces of evil, the power of domination, the threat of exploitation, and the grip of death do not bind us; they do not hold us. Suffering, malice, and destruction are powerless in the reality of God's Love and Christ's Redemption. We can have victory over evil because for us God made Jesus' death the beginning and not the end. This is a truth we can all come to embrace as Christians, no matter our doctrinal divisions or orthodox suspicions. God Resurrected Christ to a purposeful presence which might saturate our world one day. And in that day I find hope. For that day I pray.

May the Peace of God be upon you as you live out God's Love, Grace, and Mercy.

July Letter 2007

July is most typically associated with “freedom.” The upcoming celebrations which will soon resonate around our country may remind us of the historic battles, “founding fathers”, monumental institutions, and trumpeted principles of our country. In last month's newsletter I commented about my perceptions of “freedom” in our country today, and about the liberty we can embrace through our faith in Christ as the realization of God's unconditional Love. I will shy away from more talk about freedom, and instead offer my thoughts and reflections on our country's history and what that means for our future.

The discipline of “History” has a peculiar way of providing differing and even opposing interpretations for our future direction and the subsequent action such a future would entail. We often look to our foundations and invoke the authoritative voices of our “fathers” as a way to navigate the turbulent waters of the current times: “What would G.W. (that's George Washington for the more affectionate) do?” What would he do? Unfortunately we don't have “G.W.” around to ask. But I wonder if it would matter? Is it best to cling to the “old ways” of the past? Is it better to abandon the past and look for a “new path” into our future? My answer to these last two questions is no and no, and yes and yes.

“The ways of the past” and the “new paths” of our current times are equally important informants for our collective future. Both must be considered, thought about, reflected on, and in conversation in order to successfully stand the test of time. Without “new ideas” and daring risks our country would not be here today. But it is also true that our country has survived by developing an identity grounded on lasting principles and traditions. We celebrate the fourth of July because we celebrate the America of the past, the America of the present, and our hope for the America of the future. In this we can celebrate all that being “American” has come to mean.

I hope to suggest that the future has never been identical to the past, and that as a result the future is always new. However, I also want to suggest that the future never leaves the past behind. Rather the future lives with the past whispering to it as it forges ahead, gently offering its advice, lessons, and tools for hopeful success. Let us not forget the voices of the past, and let us not shy from the new adventure of the future.

We cannot find ourselves living in the two extremes of past and future and sacrifice the integral connectivity between the two. The past is not necessarily better than the future. Societies do not inherently get worse as time moves on. But it is also true that societies do not inherently get better as time moves on. The future is not necessarily better than the past. What makes societies good, bad, or otherwise is the very path they trod as time goes on. I believe that our perspective and attitude regarding history can lend itself to interpret America's place in history in a prideful, arrogant way.

I fear that America suffers from an “Arrival Complex”: stopping in our path to admire where we are and forgetting to continue. This is the condition that distorts America into an “end” in itself. America is “it.” We, as Americans, have what we want and believe everyone else wants what we have. There is no need for improving ourselves because we are the standard, the measure of accomplishment. We are “developed”, “industrialized”, and “1st World.” We stand in the path to welcome others to us instead of moving onward together, sharing the ruggedness of the way.
Unfortunately this complex prevents us from fully realizing our own potential. We cannot be so bogged down with our past that we forget it was, and still is, taking us some place. It is toward that end that we—America—are a means. We must turn our thoughts toward the future, remembering from whence we came, and seek to arrive.

Imagine the greatest architect in the world pausing to admire her work and checking the blueprint to complete the task. Adjustments might need to be made. Corrections might have to be worked in. All of this is helpful and good. But while pausing, this carpenter does herself a disservice by scoffing at her assistants, contractors, and team, and confusing her greatness with the project itself. Her greatness will help create a masterpiece, but the project transcends her contribution.

We too can pause to see where we've come, what we're doing, but we cannot forget that we have somewhere to go. “Arriving” requires the arduous task of continual improvement through humble self-reflection and assessment. In this way we can move along the path. Yet just as tomorrow is never today, so too we have never arrived; instead we are always arriving.

May the path of our country, our community, and our church be a path of hope, love, and peace. May we remember the principles of our founding, the struggles of our history, and the hope for our future. America is not a beacon of light, but a bearer of light chasing a beacon. May we not forget that America has not arrived, but is always arriving.

June Letter 2007

The summer months are around the corner and we can already feel the warmth building each and every day. For students, the “summer” has already begun, and with it comes the incredible freedom and release from schedules once filled with school obligations, homework, and extra-curricular activities. It's amazing that in a country so “free,” we often feel imprisoned by our daily duties; our everyday activities. In fact, it might be that we really aren't as “free” as we think. Many are trapped by their occupations, emotions, families, or school. The chains of captivity keep us bound to our jobs, satisfying our families, securing our futures, or maintaining happy feelings.

In a country built on freedom, where is it that we are truly free? After all, we aren't free to purchase a ticket and just walk onto a plane. Instead we have security checks and even invasive searches. We aren't free to do whatever we want. We have laws and rules which govern how we are to act, preventing certain behaviors from becoming the norm (murder, rape, assault, etc.). We are not free to eat or drink whatever we want, whenever we want. There are laws and regulations which are designed to prevent the use of illicit drugs, underage alcohol consumption, and smoking in certain places. I have realized over the years that although we enjoy certain liberties, none of us are guaranteed total freedom. There is always something which forces itself upon us from the outside, keeping us “contained.”

Now we may recognize that many of these external forces (laws, for example) are good things. They help us to live together peaceably. However, there are external forces that are not always good. The way our “free” country operates makes it a “must” to work and prepare financially for retirement. That “must” can imprison people to the slavery of a job; to the fear of financial insecurity. The way our “free” country embraces education makes many students feel bound and tied to getting the best grades, no matter the cost. All of this creates prisoners bound by external forces.

The good news is that much of this is self-inflicted, meaning we have a means of escape. It does not have to be the case that we are bound to our job, our school, our families, or our desire for pure, unadulterated happiness. Instead, we can throw off the chains that bind us, and realize that life is about more than these things. Ultimately what imprisons us is a sense of necessity in having financial security, an enjoyable job, a perfect family, or the absence of turmoil. The truth is insecurity is a part of life, many tasks in life are not fun, even the best families fight, and challenges in life are inevitable.

Freedom is found not in achieving our pursuits, but in living regardless of whether or not we achieve them. The goals and objectives we have in our lives are not bad in themselves. But when they imprison us by causing us to believe that life is only about these things, then we risk our freedom and peace of mind and subject ourselves to slavery. True freedom is realizing that we are not bound to anything; that life is not about achieving anything; life is simply about living.

We as Christians can see this truth operate in our spiritual lives as we understand the slavery of sin and the freedom of Christ. Sin is slavery; it is the perpetual mindset that this life is about something else besides being a Child of God; an infinitely valuable person. Our faith in Christ focuses our attention on our worth and value as the recipient of God's unconditional Love; a Love that is not dependent on our achievements or life-goals. Thus, truly embracing this Love rids us of the chains and slavery brought on by thinking we “must” be financially secure, emotionally satisfied, academically impressive, or socially acceptable.

This summer, as we watch children run “freely” through the streets, may we remember that life is not about our jobs, our families, our grades, or how good we feel. Life is about living. Life is about living as a Child of God, as an infinitely valuable person who God has chosen to give God's Love. In that we are free. In that we find peace. And in that, we can find happiness.

May Letter 2007

Evangelism is an important phenomena in the history of our Faith. Paul's evangelistic efforts were responsible for the spread of the early “Jesus movement” in community after community. In more recent times, It was evangelism that led to the Great Awakening(s) in our Nation's infancy, and to the spread of Christianity westward into the frontier. In fact, it was the evangelistic spirit that led to Barton W. Stone's “camp meeting” at Cane Ridge which helped establish the Restoration movement, and, eventually, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). The Restoration movement, a partnership between Thomas Campbell, Alexander Campbell, Barton W. Stone, and Walter Scott, flourished thanks to the hard work and immense sacrifice of traveling preachers. These preachers disseminated a message of unity and called for a return to the Christianity of the original church.

Without the evangelistic spirit or awareness that Paul and the early Disciples possessed, our church would not be as it is today. However, like the development of new theologies and ministries, evangelism has changed shape and is practiced in differing ways. Some of these ways are more helpful than others. Some are more acceptable to certain people types, while other Christian groups shy away from evangelism altogether.

Over the last few years, I have reflected on Evangelism consistently. I have seen the abuses and misconceptions surrounding Evangelism that have led to internal and external strife in the Christian world. My hope is to offer my voice to you and to the Christian community.

We need a new Evangelism; one that speaks to our world. I am persuaded that Evangelism should be centered around Jesus' teachings and ministry. I believe that Evangelism should be built around the idea of table fellowship, which Jesus espoused. It is here, in the image of a communal meal, that we can truly make evangelism a productive and worthwhile endeavor for our church, and our Faith. When we sit down to eat together, we share something in common despite our many differences. Similarly, Christian community must be a place for diverse perspectives to come together and share in the work and message of Christ. Evangelism must fundamentally be an invitation into that community, the extension of fellowship to a person or peoples that desire such inclusion.

Unfortunately, this is not the form Evangelism has always taken in our world.

In many churches and for many people, Evangelism has been about committing people to special beliefs and creeds. However, I believe Evangelism is not about talking to people, but about conversing with people. Evangelism should not make everyone think the same way or believe the same things. Evangelism must be centered on invitational community. A community that shares in the work of Christ despite our diverse backgrounds, cultural locations, social perspectives, and political ideologies. The invitation must be open and should be unconditional.

Ultimately, people in our world do not need to hear why “we” are “right” and “they” are “wrong.” People in our world do not need to be told how to think, what to say, or that their particular culture is invalid. Instead, people need to be given an invitation; an invitation to commune and fellowship with their neighbors of good conscience and loving intent. When people are not treated as people, but rather as objects of conversion, Christianity loses its sensitivity, compassion, and missional message. Christianity is about God's Love for God's people; it's about community in spite of diversity, and up-building God's Kingdom. May that invitation, extended to us, be reciprocated to the people of the world.

March Letter 2007

Spring is arriving and we will soon rediscover the brilliant, green, life-filled world around us. Lawns will need mowed, bushes pruned, flowers gardened, and much more in terms of “yard work.” The abundance of green and the liveliness that accompanies the color is well captured in the energetic celebrations of St. Patrick’s Day the world over. Many will wear green lest they be pinched, many will eat Irish food, and many will drink Irish drink. No matter how you choose to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day (or if you choose to do so), pause to consider an interesting tale that grows from the man behind the day.

St. Patrick, born of the name Maewyn, took up a mission to Ireland to establish monasteries, schools, and make converts to the Catholic faith. Very successful at all three, St. Patrick retired after thirty years of service to the Church and to Ireland. His death on March 17th, 461 CE has been commemorated as St. Patrick’s Day ever since.

Many stories circulate about his mission work. There are stories claiming that St. Patrick raised people from the dead. Other stories claim he drove out all the snakes from Ireland (keep in mind snakes were never native). Although these are unsubstantiated tales, there is one that might speak to us today. It is said that the shamrock (three-leaf clover) is so closely related to the celebrations of St. Patrick’s Day because St. Patrick himself used it as a sort of sermon illustration. To better conceptualize the idea of the Trinity, St. Patrick held up a shamrock to demonstrate the connectedness of three separate persons in the one God-head.

As we reflect on our thoughts of God this month, may we recognize the many different ways we can come to see God. Some see God in a shamrock, others in a mountain, still others in a river. All of these natural symbols have their own way of expressing the beautiful depth and complexity of our God: a God of individuality and a God of community; a God of Majesty and Awe; a God of ever-flowing life. May the green color of St. Patrick’s Day and the shamrock itself point us toward the abundant life that flows from God. May we revel in that God-given life and use it for the Glory of the Kingdom of God.

February Letter 2007

February is already here, can you believe it? Just days ago we were ushering in 2007 and looking toward a bright future of endless possibility and potential. Now we have put the month of January behind us; a peculiar and warm winter month which surprised us day in and day out. It was 52 degrees one day and icy the next. All the peculiarities of the weather were compounded in my own life by the random misfortunes of health and wealth. In one week I managed to replace my battery, alternator, and timing belt (a substantial financial “investment”); and also punctured my lip with my very own tooth (not on purpose of course).

All of these strange events prompted a rather interesting process of reflection. My thoughts took me to the power and hope of the cross, but I found it quite difficult to put the events of my life in terms of sin and grace. Keep in mind that I have not lived a sinless month, free of failure and moral misjudgments, but I looked to find a way for Christ and the Cross to be meaningful where personal responsibility was not to blame. How could Christ and the Cross be meaningful, hope-full, and redeeming in events over which I had no control?

I remembered a book that I read by an author from Yale Divinity School called “Imagining Redemption.” In this book, the author, Dr. Kelsey, examined an example of redemption in terms of evil, rather than sin. So many times we think of Christ, the Cross, and God as instruments of personal salvation which free us from moral failures or poor ethical choices. We formulate Christ in terms of sin, and sin alone. Unfortunately that leaves half (or more) of the world's problems without a solution. What about all the things that happen to us over which we have no control?

Unlike Pat Robertson, who infamously charged Ariel Sharone's political actions as the reason for his heart attack, I do not find personal sin to be the operating force behind uncontrollable circumstance. Rather, there is just bad stuff that happens. There is the helplessness of the human race in a world that is riddled with evil. This takes the form of natural disasters, abuse, disease, illness, injury, social conditions, etc. These are victims who share no responsibility in the circumstances that are forced upon them. So how does Christ and the Cross prove to be meaningful in these situations?

Well, we have many times heard that Christ redeems us from our personal sin; our human fallibility before the Holy God. But many times we do not realize that Christ also redeems us from the evil that befalls us. Yes, Christ also makes those situations and circumstances uniquely hope-full. Dr. Kelsey pointed out that Christ provides each and every one of us with an identity. Paul said in 2nd Corinthians that we are each a new creation, a new human subject in relation to Christ (v. 17). As Christians, every evil circumstance which comes our way loses its power over us. Those circumstances cannot control who it is that we are as Christians. Instead, Christ gives us the power over these circumstances. Through Christ we have the power and hope to transform these circumstances by liberating ourselves from its grip. Evil circumstances do not define us. Evil circumstances do not control us. We are not victims of abuse, victims of disaster, or victims poverty. We are not confined by these past misfortunes. No, we have the freedom of our future in Christ. We have the infinite accessibility of a hopeful future thanks to the infinite Love found on the Cross.

So as I recalled my own situation: a fat, wounded lip, and an empty wallet; I realized that these circumstances are not what define me as “Michael Swartzentruber.” Rather, Christ offers me the identity of a Righteous God, the power of a purpose centered on God's Kingdom, and the hope of liberation from my past. I am not Michael, the fat lip substitute. No, I am Michael, Christian, Disciple of Christ.

I think this is a powerful way to see Jesus. In Luke 4 we read that Jesus unrolled the scroll of Isaiah and read: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor” (v. 18-19). Jesus ministered to those who found themselves helplessly captive to the forces of evil in society, to the evil of illness, and to the evil of poverty. Christ still ministers to us today, freeing us from the evil which befalls us.

Through the message of Jesus and the power of the Cross we have the infinite potential to form our futures as followers of the Christ. We are not defined by the evil that has come, is come, or will come. No, we are grounded in the God who was, and is, and will be. This is a beautiful message of redemption, one that magnifies and intensifies the reconciliation of our personal sin. What a Glorious God, what a Wonderful Redeemer.

January Letter 2007

The Christmas Season came and went. I hope and pray that the excitement, festivities, and celebration did not leave you stressed, disappointed, or exhausted. But it may have. Traveling, family interaction, planning, and preparation are time-consuming and energy-depleting endeavors. As the New Year sneaks up on us, my prayer is that whatever our circumstance, we find renewal and hope in the opportunities and potential that lie before us in the days ahead.

We prepare now to usher in the coming year. Many of you will celebrate the New Year with friends and family, while others will choose a more solitary approach. Regardless of how we decide to spend our time at the brink of the New Year, let us remember the comforting Hope that the it brings. This coming year is an opportunity to re-commit ourselves to the up-building of God's Kingdom; to the Divine work of the Most High God. It seems certain that we will find ourselves in situations testing our commitment to God's Kingdom. This might occur on a personal level, as we individually battle the difficulties and obstacles of maintaining a dedication to a Kingdom that requires sacrifice and selflessness. It might occur on a more communal level, as we struggle collectively to expand God's Kingdom. For there is much sacrifice and selflessness that accompanies a community: compromise, compassion, willingness to change and adapt.

It seems evident to me that a staunch opposition to change comes at the expense of other's emotions, spiritual health, and communal sanctity. If the church is dedicated to up-building God's Kingdom, then it requires we situate ourselves in a spirit of community. The spirit of community is inclusion: the effort to bring in those who otherwise do not belong. Inclusion has two sides. First, it seeks out those who have yet to belong. Second, inclusion seeks out those who already belong. Both of these factors must be present in order to build-up God's Kingdom.

How then, do we strive after both of these aspects of inclusive community? Well, quite simply, we elevate the sanctity of the community above our own desires and selfish aspirations. Good intentions can become soaked in selfish ambition when the result is excluding members of God's Kingdom. The only way to prevent selfish individuals—which we all are—from dominating a community is to hold fast to humility. We must humble ourselves before the community at large, God's Kingdom, so that we might serve as Christ called us. This means that “change” might occur, if it is in the interest of the community at large. In fact, Christ demands that change should occur, for this is at the heart of spiritual transformation. Those transformed by the Grace found in Christ should not be opponents of change, but should see the power and importance that change brings; for our own change in Christ brought us Hope.

Ultimately we must recognize that change should be guided by compromise and compassion, a submission to God's greater desire for a completed Kingdom. How we want things and how we have always done things do not make them the best now as we strive to continue the up-building of God's Kingdom. If change never occurred then we would not find ourselves living the very lives we enjoy. Change is not only inevitable, but necessary to growth, development, and God's Kingdom. Thus, we must be both accepting of change, but also cognizant of how we change. We change in the spirit of community, inclusively aware of those inside and outside our community. We change with humility, so as to keep our selfish ambitions in check. We change in Hope; in the hope that God's Kingdom will be made complete through our efforts, sacrifices, and servitude. As the New Year comes upon us, may we re-commit ourselves to God's Kingdom by embracing change, humility, and a spirit of community. For we have Hope that in this coming year, God's Kingdom might expand and move ever closer to completion.

December Letter 2006

The Christmas Season is upon us! It seems the years move past us with increasing haste, and here we are again at yet another joy-filled holiday. As I was reflecting these past few weeks, my mind was drawn toward the beauty of the Advent season. Yes, I was drawn to the Advent season, in part because it highlights a forgotten aspect of our Christmas holiday. But also because the meanings surrounding much of the Advent tradition was, and in some ways still is, a mystery to me.

As a child growing up in the church, I always knew what Christmas was “all about.” I knew that Santa was a wonderful compliment to the Christmas season, but that Jesus' birth was the central component. I recognized that Christmas was distinctly meaningful to me as a Christian because it commemorated the past arrival of Jesus. However, the only future arrival that I looked towards was that of the particular holiday: the Christmas event. I spent very little time, if any, recognizing that the very Christmas holiday I yearned for actually reminds us of a more splendid arrival. An arrival that is not limited to the past, but that is joyously longed for in our future. It is the arrival of God's Kingdom.

It seems so easy to narrowly focus our attention on the Christmas event, and leave behind the power and meaning of the Christ-event. In fact, this is directly a result of our commercialization of the Christmas season and our own forgetfulness of the past. But none of us go unscathed in the battle of remembrance; we all forget the Christ-event meaning of Christmas. Sure, we may not forget that Christmas reminds us of Jesus' birth, and we may aptly remember the stories of the wise-men, angels, and shepherds. But that is all part of the Christmas event, a commemoration of Jesus. What the Christ-event points toward is the eternal in-breaking love of God through Christ which established the beginning of a new Kingdom; a Kingdom yet completed. Thus, the arrival we truly celebrate is not as much the past reality of God's love in Christ, but the future realization of that love in our world.

The Christmas holiday means the future realization of that once established Kingdom of God in the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. So although we commemorate Jesus' birth, we also celebrate the coming Kingdom. The Christmas holiday has been turned into an event focused squarely on the past and has lost all touch with the powerful message for our future. But the future Kingdom is the very focus of the Advent spirit. It captures that lost component of our Christmas holiday. Advent embraces the fullness of the Christ-event during the Christmas season; the past, present, and future.

Advent originally was a time of fasting. Its intent was to use hunger to constantly remind the Christian that the meaning of Christ resides in the future realization of a past event, carried with us in each moment of the present. Advent has evolved many new meanings while losing certain rituals. But the season still embraces the idea of “Arrival.” The past arrival of Jesus and the future arrival of the Kingdom. Both these arrivals are so intimately related that we fail to fully understand the “true” meaning of Christmas when we leave one of these arrivals out of our thoughts and reflection.

As you celebrate this Christmas, remember the beauty, power, and depth of the entire Christ-event. Do not fall prey to the Christmas event and only await the gifts, family, and feasting while “faithfully” commemorating Jesus' birth. Do not remember just the past. Remember the future. Do not forget the coming Kingdom and the focus of the Advent season. For this is our hope, this is our Arrival!

November Letter 2006

As the cold weather that accompanies the end of fall directs our attention toward the wintry months ahead, I thought it would be appropriate to highlight the importance of a “warm” church. Perryville Christian Church, along with many churches in the state and nation, is continually threatened with the icy attack of stagnation and complacency. Many of you are aware that ice comes from water. As the winter months drawer near, this is evident all around us. Water attended by the cold yields ice. But what is it about the cold that makes ice? Well, temperature is determined by the speed of molecules. As those molecules slow, they becomes “colder.” Thus, when water molecules are slowed by cooler external circumstances, ice forms. What we notice is this: slowing down leads to ice.

If ice is the direct result of slowing down, then boiling water must be the exact opposite. The excited molecules bouncing around incessantly create “warmth.” So then, we notice something very important: If we hope to be a “warm” and welcoming church, we must have activity. The more we slow down, the more our atmosphere becomes cold, icy, and ultimately unwelcoming. The “aura” of our church is determined by the level of excitement we find in our members. The more our “excited” members “bounce” around incessantly, the warmer and more welcoming we will not only appear, but be. We must, then, be a church filled with “excited” members who are actively seeking out a place within our Faith community. It is one thing to attend church, it is yet another to be a contributor. Be a contributor. Make this your Winter's goal.

As you begin your preparation for the seasonal activities of work and home, do not forget the importance of contributing to the church. Do not let the iciness of complacent stagnation destroy the vibrant “warmth” that our church is striving to possess. May our church be alive like our God is alive. May we be active in this community of Faith as God is active in the greater world of Faith. May our warmth find its source in the Most High God.

Called By God

Questions: Am I called by God? What does a “Call” from God mean?

Galatians 1:11-24

BackgroundPaul wrote Galatians
Galatians is a polemic: refutation (in contrast to an apologia—defense) -->(gr.) lit. means “war-like”
Fierce, argumentative, “fiery”
Paul wrote a polemical epistle to the Galatian churches

Opponents (conjecture)
Outside opponents: Christian “Judaizers”--Jewish Christians who wanted all followers of Christ/God to obey Jewish customs (circumcision)
Inside opponents: Galatians reading Hebrew bible and following its customs/traditions
Inside opponents: Converts who incorporated Jewish/Pagan religious thoughts/rituals into Paul's teachings

Paul's Gospel? One of inclusion—Gentiles to be followers of God as Gentiles. Inclusive community which grounds its identity in the grace of God, not in physical actions/works/rituals (circumcision)Doesn't negate the value, worth, or place of circumcision, but situates circumcision as a uniquely Jewish custom that is not necessary for God's Grace, for “Justification” before God

Typically Paul begins his letters with words of thanksgiving, here he begins his letter with “astonishment”-->indicates something is wrong, immediately

Paul blasts Galatians for skewing his message (by incorporating circumcision-as necessity)

Paul has to re-establish his authority—claiming divine right to give this message and taking evidence from his own life to corroborate his claim

Paul's life is one of divine appointment (as he claims)--his message has divine authority—no human motivations

**Paul's words seem to imply that his authority and motivation have been questioned
[Paul issuing his response—reacting to his accusers]

v.13-24
Paul's “conversion” and missional purpose
Paul was in the Pharisaic sect of Judaism, he advanced eagerly, he persecuted followers of the Messiah, Christ

Revelation of Christ left him with an unforgettable encounter that drastically changed his world
From persecutor to motivator, from opponent to supporter, from Pharisaic Judaism to Messianic Judaism

Paul's antagonistic past was transformed by his encounter with Christ, so much so, that Paul took on a new purpose, a new meaning, and a new direction (symbolized by a new name—Saul to Paul)

Call from God was a Call to action
Immediately Paul went and proclaimed the message of God's Grace, the message of Christianity

Paul, called by God, devoted his life's work to the gospel message

It is not too late for us
We all have our regrets, failures, and imperfections
Yet we all have the opportunity to be confronted and transformed by Christ

Nobody is too far gone, too hopeless—Saul the persecutor became Paul the missionary
Problem: we are too complacent, too satisfied, too apathetic to change the world around us—being called by God is a compelling challenge to act, to labor for God.

Going to church, serving on occasion, doing “our part” feels like enough—but is that radical enough? Have I the radical shift in focus that Paul had? Have I really embraced my call from God? Have I met my call in action, in deed?

We are all “called by God”--we each have the opportunity to be confronted by God and transformed by God—coming face to face with Christ's message, sacrifice, and meaning challenges us to take upon ourselves that message, sacrifice, and meaning- transforming us
Will we be confronted, will we be transformed, will we hear God's voice calling us?

I pray you do.

“The final test of religious faith is whether it will enable men to endure insecurity without complacency or despair, whether it can so interpret the ancient verities that they will not become mere escape hatches from responsibilities but instruments of insights into what civilization means.”
--Reinhold Niebuhr

Finally, a Call by God is a call to endure, and whats more: overcome. Being called to action does not make life easy or simple. Being called to action is a challenge to overcome the new obstacles and difficulties that accompany God's Will for God's Kingdom. Paul, the disciples, and Jesus all faced the road of difficulty, but found a hope and peace that enabled them to overcome all they faced. They endured. A call from God is a call to action, a call to continual action, a call to endure.

I hope this morning you sense that God is calling you. That God is calling you to more than church attendance and spiritual superficiality. I hope you hear the voice of God calling you to service, to action, and to perseverance. For in those things we, as Christians, find our deepest sense of belonging, meaning, and purpose. May that be made real to us this morning. May we answer that call this morning. May we follow God's voice into the untamed wilderness of service and labor, and give God the Glory.

Hymn

Benediction:

God of Majesty and Grace, we come into your House and Magnify Your name, and Worship You. We offer to you our thankfulness and ask to be guided by Your hand of Peace, Your Will of Love, and Your Call to service. May we be listening and ready to do Your work in this world, to build it up for the good of all and the Glory of God. Grant to us mercy when we fall short of your divine appointments, and give to us forgiveness for our sinfulness and shortcomings. For it is in the cross that we find forgiveness, mercy, grace and a Hope that overcomes.

Amen.