Pray also for me, so that when I speak, a message may be given to me to make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel.
Ephesians 6:19
I wrote those words in the front of my BCP either while in seminary or shortly after arriving at my first call in Montana. I honestly can't remember which, but it doesn't much matter, because I put them there as a reminder to me that preaching is a job I should always take seriously, that the gospel is a mystery, that the message should come from the leading of the Spirit, and that I need to proclaim that message boldly. I haven't always lived up to that ideal, but I try.
There's another part to that verse that, while I haven't overlooked, needs to be considered, especially today and in the future – Pray for me.
I have been writing The Wednesday Word for a year now – the first official piece came out on September 24, 2014. I have written about the words of the Desert Fathers, verses of scripture and other readings or sayings I have come across in that time. I have been both surprised and humbled at the overwhelming positive response I have received from those who read these little musings.
But these “little musings,” originally intended for the parishioners and friends of St. Luke's, have led to something somewhat larger. You may remember Fr. David Baumann, who attended for a time with his fiancee Elizabeth. They since moved to Illinois where he is serving a small parish, but have chosen to remain on our e-mail list. Fr. David is much more connected to the wider church than I, and that's where this gets interesting.
Through his connections, the people of The Living Church (TLC) reached out to him asking if he would be willing to be part of a new project and write a variety of meditations for their website. He respectfully declined, but said, “I know a guy . . .” That guy was me, and I was asked to be part a new writing project. I had some questions and said I'd think about it.
The questions have been answered, I assented and I have been given my assignment. I, along with a team of other writers, will be offering meditations on the Daily Office for the next several months. My designated offerings will be during the weeks of November 15, January 10, March 6 and May 1. TLC will, at some point, evaluate the project and then do one of three things: fire us all and discontinue the project; continue the project and ask us all to keep writing; continue the project with a slate of different authors. But for now, thanks to Fr. David, I will be writing for a larger audience than that of the parishioners and friends of St. Luke's.
As I begin to think about what this will look like and how I will turn my thoughts on the Daily Office into a meditation series for a much larger readership, the words of the prayer I prayed in the sacristy before services early in my ordained life, and up to today before large services, come to mind: Please God, don't let me screw up. Amen.
And now, as that process begins, I ask you to heed the words of Ephesians 6:19 – Pray also for me, so that when I write, a message may be given me to make known the mystery of the gospel.
Amen.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
September 23, 2015
It'll be a lot of fun to go out there and risk our lives.
Sgt. Floyd Pepper
For those who do not know, Sgt. Floyd Pepper is the bass player for the Electric Mayhem, the band from the original Muppet Show and movies. I always wondered if he and Janice had a thing going on . . . But I digress.
I had a conversation this week with a parishioner and we were discussing the idea of risk. In general, is the short-term reward greater than the required risk, or does the risk outweigh the potential reward? This is the question we all deal with at some point, and this question has a multitude of implications.
Many a professional athlete has cut his/her career short in the pursuit of winning a championship “now.” But that idea is being challenged by Matt Harvey, pitcher for the NY Mets. The Mets haven't won a championship since 1986, and the Mets' fans want Harvey to pitch well into the playoffs. But he and his agent have stipulated an “inning limit” so as not to damage his arm and his long-term career. The argument is one of risk: does he risk his arm and future for a World Series, or does he risk a World Series for a long career?
At Celilo Falls, near what is now The Dalles Dam, Native Americans would fish for salmon, recognizing that the salmon provided food for their families, their tribe, and the generations of people who would come after them. When the white man showed up and saw the abundance of fish, they nearly fished the river dry. It was a question of risk: the Native Americans were willing to risk losing out on personal abundance in favor of long-term survival, whereas the white fishermen were willing to risk losing long-term production in favor of short-term gain and immediate profits.
But for us as Christians and as members of St. Luke's, risk might have a different connotation. The annual pledge drive approaches; are we willing to risk increasing our pledge toward the long-term health of the church? We are continuing to examine and tease out those dots in order to answer the question, “Who do you say St. Luke's is?” Are we willing to view them as an indicator of who we might be, and then risk making the necessary changes to live into a possible new way of being? The Episcopal Church in general, and St. Luke's in particular, has something to offer the people of this community. Yes, we have a website, and yes, we've painted the doors red; but are we willing to risk meeting people face-to-face and talking with them one-on-one? Are we willing to risk putting a public face on our private faith?
At some point we need to get up, get out, and take a gospel risk. We need to risk our self-esteem in the face of rejection. We need to risk our need to be “safe” and talk with those we might not normally talk with. We need to risk changing from the way we've always done things for new and challenging ways that, quite honestly, may or may not lead to immediate results.
In short, we need to risk our immediate lives for the long-term arc of the gospel. Maybe that means we risk being more outgoing. Maybe it means we risk increasing our pledge. Maybe it means we risk doing things differently. And maybe, just maybe, if we take risks for the gospel, we can echo the words of Sgt. Floyd and say, “Hey, that was a lot of fun.”
Amen.
Sgt. Floyd Pepper
For those who do not know, Sgt. Floyd Pepper is the bass player for the Electric Mayhem, the band from the original Muppet Show and movies. I always wondered if he and Janice had a thing going on . . . But I digress.
I had a conversation this week with a parishioner and we were discussing the idea of risk. In general, is the short-term reward greater than the required risk, or does the risk outweigh the potential reward? This is the question we all deal with at some point, and this question has a multitude of implications.
Many a professional athlete has cut his/her career short in the pursuit of winning a championship “now.” But that idea is being challenged by Matt Harvey, pitcher for the NY Mets. The Mets haven't won a championship since 1986, and the Mets' fans want Harvey to pitch well into the playoffs. But he and his agent have stipulated an “inning limit” so as not to damage his arm and his long-term career. The argument is one of risk: does he risk his arm and future for a World Series, or does he risk a World Series for a long career?
At Celilo Falls, near what is now The Dalles Dam, Native Americans would fish for salmon, recognizing that the salmon provided food for their families, their tribe, and the generations of people who would come after them. When the white man showed up and saw the abundance of fish, they nearly fished the river dry. It was a question of risk: the Native Americans were willing to risk losing out on personal abundance in favor of long-term survival, whereas the white fishermen were willing to risk losing long-term production in favor of short-term gain and immediate profits.
But for us as Christians and as members of St. Luke's, risk might have a different connotation. The annual pledge drive approaches; are we willing to risk increasing our pledge toward the long-term health of the church? We are continuing to examine and tease out those dots in order to answer the question, “Who do you say St. Luke's is?” Are we willing to view them as an indicator of who we might be, and then risk making the necessary changes to live into a possible new way of being? The Episcopal Church in general, and St. Luke's in particular, has something to offer the people of this community. Yes, we have a website, and yes, we've painted the doors red; but are we willing to risk meeting people face-to-face and talking with them one-on-one? Are we willing to risk putting a public face on our private faith?
At some point we need to get up, get out, and take a gospel risk. We need to risk our self-esteem in the face of rejection. We need to risk our need to be “safe” and talk with those we might not normally talk with. We need to risk changing from the way we've always done things for new and challenging ways that, quite honestly, may or may not lead to immediate results.
In short, we need to risk our immediate lives for the long-term arc of the gospel. Maybe that means we risk being more outgoing. Maybe it means we risk increasing our pledge. Maybe it means we risk doing things differently. And maybe, just maybe, if we take risks for the gospel, we can echo the words of Sgt. Floyd and say, “Hey, that was a lot of fun.”
Amen.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
September 16, 2015
The end is near; but then again, the end is always near for someone.
Everywhere you look it seems like we are seeing more and more signs of the End Times. Obviously wars and rumors of wars are big on that list. I read a description from a victim of the wildfires in California who said, “I felt like it was the end times. It was red and black and boiling.” Add to that the hundreds of thousands of displaced Syrians, and, well, it can feel like the End Times are indeed upon us.
Natural disasters bring on end times for people affected by them. Hurricanes Andrew and Katrina brought on end times for people in Florida and New Orleans. The Christmas tsunami brought on end times for people in the western Pacific. The wildfires that are tearing through the western states have delivered end times for homeowners and, unfortunately, a few firefighters.
For people involved in wars, the end times may indeed be here. They may lose their homes, their land, their friends, their families or their own lives. War creates end times for a lot of people.
Right now there are hundreds of thousands of people fleeing the war in Syria. They've lost their homes. They've lost their land. Many of them have lost friends and family members. The refugees have more reason to believe the End Times are upon them than any televangelist talking about some ridiculous “blood moon” prophecy.
Instead of focusing on the End Times and trying to read current events with an eye to the calendar and Jesus' return date, maybe we should be focusing on making the kingdom of God present and relevant in the here and now. Jesus said blessed are those who fed, watered, clothed and welcomed those who needed feeding, water, clothing and were strangers. Maybe this is where we exhibit and proclaim the kingdom and love of God.
There are plenty of resources and places to go if you want to be part of the solution; and one of those places is here: http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/where-we-work. It doesn't cover everything, and it's a limited resource, but it might not be a bad place to begin.
What would happen if we all stopped worrying about the End Times and began working for, and living into, Kingdom Times?
Amen.
Everywhere you look it seems like we are seeing more and more signs of the End Times. Obviously wars and rumors of wars are big on that list. I read a description from a victim of the wildfires in California who said, “I felt like it was the end times. It was red and black and boiling.” Add to that the hundreds of thousands of displaced Syrians, and, well, it can feel like the End Times are indeed upon us.
Natural disasters bring on end times for people affected by them. Hurricanes Andrew and Katrina brought on end times for people in Florida and New Orleans. The Christmas tsunami brought on end times for people in the western Pacific. The wildfires that are tearing through the western states have delivered end times for homeowners and, unfortunately, a few firefighters.
For people involved in wars, the end times may indeed be here. They may lose their homes, their land, their friends, their families or their own lives. War creates end times for a lot of people.
Right now there are hundreds of thousands of people fleeing the war in Syria. They've lost their homes. They've lost their land. Many of them have lost friends and family members. The refugees have more reason to believe the End Times are upon them than any televangelist talking about some ridiculous “blood moon” prophecy.
Instead of focusing on the End Times and trying to read current events with an eye to the calendar and Jesus' return date, maybe we should be focusing on making the kingdom of God present and relevant in the here and now. Jesus said blessed are those who fed, watered, clothed and welcomed those who needed feeding, water, clothing and were strangers. Maybe this is where we exhibit and proclaim the kingdom and love of God.
There are plenty of resources and places to go if you want to be part of the solution; and one of those places is here: http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/where-we-work. It doesn't cover everything, and it's a limited resource, but it might not be a bad place to begin.
What would happen if we all stopped worrying about the End Times and began working for, and living into, Kingdom Times?
Amen.
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
September 9, 2015
Maybe it represents the weight we carry when we wander off alone.
Durfee
Last week there was an article in the paper about a sheep which had been lost for an unstated amount of time in the Australian scrubland of Canberra. You may have seen it. We don't know for how long it had been lost, but it had been long enough that it had grown about 89 pounds of wool. The picture of the sheep that accompanied the story reminded me of those Looney Tunes cartoon sheep that Ralph E. Wolf was always trying to steal out from under Sam Sheepdog's watchful eye.
Durfee saw this article and gave me a copy after service on Sunday. Before that, she had sent me an e-mail asking if I had seen the article and her thoughts on it. In her e-mail, she was convinced that there was something biblical there, and gave me a litany of ideas that included Samson, hair shirts and the prodigal son.
But it was what she said at church that got my attention: “Maybe it represents the weight we carry when we wander off alone.”
The more I thought about that, the more I decided she was right.
We travel through our lives as individuals, but, for most of us, we are not alone. We have family members who, for however much they may annoy us, can offer support and insights we may not get elsewhere. We have friends who can lovingly call us back down to reality or lift us up to dream. We have partners with whom we can share our thoughts, dreams, fears, joys and whatever else might be on our mind. And, for us Christians, we have a savior who knows what it's like to make this human journey and who shows us what it looks like to be in unity with God.
But when we wander off on our own, we begin to take on burdens that we would normally share with others. The sheep in this story didn't grow 89 pounds of wool overnight. He didn't suddenly find himself unable to stand, struggling under the weight of his burden. Instead, it happened slowly, a little at a time.
The same is true for us. We don't wake up one day with the weight of the world bearing down on us. Instead, it's a slow process – an annoyance here, a crisis there, a lingering problem that just doesn't seem to go away. And, like good, self-sufficient Americans, we usually try to handle these problems ourselves. Whether that's out of a fear of being seen as incompetent, or not wanting to be a bother to others, or who knows what other reason, if we try to deal with all of our problems on our own, we will end up looking like that sheep carrying an extra 89 pounds of wool. We might be able to carry that burden, but it's not the best option for us.
If you find yourself wandering out in the scrublands alone, ask for directions. If you find yourself with a burden you think you can handle, ask for help in the beginning. Even God understood that it was not good humans were alone.
What might be weighing you down? What burdens might you need to unload? You may want to consider asking for help before you end up looking like that sheep.
Amen.
Durfee
Last week there was an article in the paper about a sheep which had been lost for an unstated amount of time in the Australian scrubland of Canberra. You may have seen it. We don't know for how long it had been lost, but it had been long enough that it had grown about 89 pounds of wool. The picture of the sheep that accompanied the story reminded me of those Looney Tunes cartoon sheep that Ralph E. Wolf was always trying to steal out from under Sam Sheepdog's watchful eye.
Durfee saw this article and gave me a copy after service on Sunday. Before that, she had sent me an e-mail asking if I had seen the article and her thoughts on it. In her e-mail, she was convinced that there was something biblical there, and gave me a litany of ideas that included Samson, hair shirts and the prodigal son.
But it was what she said at church that got my attention: “Maybe it represents the weight we carry when we wander off alone.”
The more I thought about that, the more I decided she was right.
We travel through our lives as individuals, but, for most of us, we are not alone. We have family members who, for however much they may annoy us, can offer support and insights we may not get elsewhere. We have friends who can lovingly call us back down to reality or lift us up to dream. We have partners with whom we can share our thoughts, dreams, fears, joys and whatever else might be on our mind. And, for us Christians, we have a savior who knows what it's like to make this human journey and who shows us what it looks like to be in unity with God.
But when we wander off on our own, we begin to take on burdens that we would normally share with others. The sheep in this story didn't grow 89 pounds of wool overnight. He didn't suddenly find himself unable to stand, struggling under the weight of his burden. Instead, it happened slowly, a little at a time.
The same is true for us. We don't wake up one day with the weight of the world bearing down on us. Instead, it's a slow process – an annoyance here, a crisis there, a lingering problem that just doesn't seem to go away. And, like good, self-sufficient Americans, we usually try to handle these problems ourselves. Whether that's out of a fear of being seen as incompetent, or not wanting to be a bother to others, or who knows what other reason, if we try to deal with all of our problems on our own, we will end up looking like that sheep carrying an extra 89 pounds of wool. We might be able to carry that burden, but it's not the best option for us.
If you find yourself wandering out in the scrublands alone, ask for directions. If you find yourself with a burden you think you can handle, ask for help in the beginning. Even God understood that it was not good humans were alone.
What might be weighing you down? What burdens might you need to unload? You may want to consider asking for help before you end up looking like that sheep.
Amen.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
September 2, 2015
Oh come on now! Really?
The Rev. Dr. Eric Funston
The first reading of Monday's Daily Office comes from 2 Chronicles and tells of the dedication of Solomon's temple. This was the temple where the people of Israel worshiped. This was the temple that Solomon built for the glory of the Lord. This was the temple that was the center of religious and social life for the Jews at that time. And we are told that, on the day of dedication, King Solomon sacrificed 22,000 oxen and 120,000 sheep. Even in Montana, that's a lot of sheep and oxen.
One of the blogs I try to read regularly is written by the aforementioned Rev. Dr. Funston. He tries to write a daily observation on one of the readings of the Daily Office, and this was the title of his Monday post in regards to the reading from 2 Chronicles. He labeled this particular piece of Scripture “fiction,” and then he went on to say why he thought it was a fictional account. I posted a comment in which I said that this piece of Scripture may be fictional in the same way that the story of George Washington chopping down the cherry tree is fictional.
On Mondays I offer a bible study at Rogue Valley Retirement Center. It's an interesting group of people. There is one lady who recently began attending who is very adamant, and very vocal, that every word of Scripture is accurate as written. This has generated a few lively discussions as we work our way through Matthew. She was none to happy with me when I suggested that Jesus could possibly have made a mistake at one point (“Remember,” I said, “mistakes are not necessarily sins”), or when I suggested that Jesus was using a particular image to show God to be feminine.
Following Monday's discussion of Matthew 24, one gentleman came up to me and said, “I have a question . . . I don't understand how people can think that the gospels contain the actual words of Christ.”
What he was getting at was that the gospels weren't written until well after Christ’s death and resurrection. He wanted to know where the authors got all of their information, and wasn't it possible that in gathering that information from an oral tradition, they might have gotten some of the words wrong? Yes, that's probably likely.
It's possible that we don't have the actual, verbatim words of Christ in the Bible. It's possible (likely?) that Solomon didn't sacrifice 22,000 oxen and 122,000 sheep as recorded by the Chronicler.
The Bible may not be factually accurate in places; but in all places it expresses truth. And what I’ve discovered over the years is that it is much harder to read the Bible for truth than it is to read it while blithely ascribing factual accuracy to it.
While Fr. Eric's question was a cute blog post title, maybe there's more to it than that. If we read Scripture with that same question on our mind, might we be challenged to dig deeper? If we read Scripture with that same question on our mind, might we be willing to search for truth rather than settle for easy answers of 'facts'?
How are you reading Scripture?
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Eric Funston
The first reading of Monday's Daily Office comes from 2 Chronicles and tells of the dedication of Solomon's temple. This was the temple where the people of Israel worshiped. This was the temple that Solomon built for the glory of the Lord. This was the temple that was the center of religious and social life for the Jews at that time. And we are told that, on the day of dedication, King Solomon sacrificed 22,000 oxen and 120,000 sheep. Even in Montana, that's a lot of sheep and oxen.
One of the blogs I try to read regularly is written by the aforementioned Rev. Dr. Funston. He tries to write a daily observation on one of the readings of the Daily Office, and this was the title of his Monday post in regards to the reading from 2 Chronicles. He labeled this particular piece of Scripture “fiction,” and then he went on to say why he thought it was a fictional account. I posted a comment in which I said that this piece of Scripture may be fictional in the same way that the story of George Washington chopping down the cherry tree is fictional.
On Mondays I offer a bible study at Rogue Valley Retirement Center. It's an interesting group of people. There is one lady who recently began attending who is very adamant, and very vocal, that every word of Scripture is accurate as written. This has generated a few lively discussions as we work our way through Matthew. She was none to happy with me when I suggested that Jesus could possibly have made a mistake at one point (“Remember,” I said, “mistakes are not necessarily sins”), or when I suggested that Jesus was using a particular image to show God to be feminine.
Following Monday's discussion of Matthew 24, one gentleman came up to me and said, “I have a question . . . I don't understand how people can think that the gospels contain the actual words of Christ.”
What he was getting at was that the gospels weren't written until well after Christ’s death and resurrection. He wanted to know where the authors got all of their information, and wasn't it possible that in gathering that information from an oral tradition, they might have gotten some of the words wrong? Yes, that's probably likely.
It's possible that we don't have the actual, verbatim words of Christ in the Bible. It's possible (likely?) that Solomon didn't sacrifice 22,000 oxen and 122,000 sheep as recorded by the Chronicler.
The Bible may not be factually accurate in places; but in all places it expresses truth. And what I’ve discovered over the years is that it is much harder to read the Bible for truth than it is to read it while blithely ascribing factual accuracy to it.
While Fr. Eric's question was a cute blog post title, maybe there's more to it than that. If we read Scripture with that same question on our mind, might we be challenged to dig deeper? If we read Scripture with that same question on our mind, might we be willing to search for truth rather than settle for easy answers of 'facts'?
How are you reading Scripture?
Amen.
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