The Biggest Loser

To give up my life even for a brief moment scares me to death. I yearn for control in every nanosecond of my life. I desire to have the world revolving precisely as I expect it will. I want nothing bad ever to happen to anyone I love or myself. As I reflect on these longing I realize the dark and dirty sin that is control. To give up my life even for a brief moment scares me to death, but God calls me and all of us to do precisely this.

“Those who want to save their life will lose it,” says Jesus in this Gospel lesson from Mark, continuing, “and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” The paradox of following Jesus comes precisely in this moment of letting go of all that control we work so hard to grasp. It is a paradox because somehow in the letting go we realize that we did not have control in the first place, and more importantly we gain something that we cannot possess if we are too busy holding on to this illusion of control.

Walking back just slightly in this Gospel account from Mark we discover Jesus’ first prediction that the Messiah, the Son of Man must undergo great suffering. Peter upon hearing this takes Jesus aside to rebuke his teacher. Famously Jesus calls Peter Satan, or stumbling block. Peter does not dress in a devil costume, but rather his reluctance to relinquish control of whom he believes the Messiah is causes him to stumble on his way of discipleship. If any want to follow Jesus they need only to pick up their crosses and do it. We say this often in church, but what does cross carrying look like in real life?

Today we remember John Coleridge Patteson who served as a missionary and bishop in Melanesia (think Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands, and Fiji) during the middle of the 19th Century. Patteson had a propensity for picking up languages, which he honed during travels through Europe after graduation from Balliol College, Oxford. While serving as a lowly curate he took a call from Bishop G. A. Selwyn to serve in New Zealand. Here Patteson learned twenty-three languages of the Melanesian people. Horrifically, while visiting an island in the Santa Cruz group some islanders mistook the bishop for a slave-trader stabbing Patteson five times in the chest. The attack killed others in the bishop’s party as well.

Patteson witnesses to us a literal laying down of one’s life for Christ. A gift of learning other tongues and a love of sharing the Good News in people’s native language may cause one to face real harm. While most of us do not hear the same call as Patteson, Jesus says the same words to us that he spoke to the crowds and to Patteson. If we are to follow Jesus, we must lose our life, take up our cross, and gain new life through walking with Christ. Somewhere along the way, perhaps when Christianity became the state religion, we lost the wild danger of following Jesus. What we do when we say that our aim in life focuses upon subjugating ourselves so that Christ might live within us stands out as nothing short of radical. However, we often do not know how we might go about practicing this in our lives.

When we take time to stop what we would normally do and pray; when we pray for the broken world; when we sit in silence so that God might look upon us and love us; when we give our time, talent, and treasure; when we say the daily office; when we read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest Holy Scripture; when we do not respond to someone’s hate with hate, but instead with love; when we sacrifice what we are doing to serve someone else; when we truly hear someone else instead of merely wait for our turn to speak; when we see through the disguise that someone is wearing to see the Divine within the other, then in all of these instances we are practicing laying down our lives. Each day in these ways and millions more practice martyrdom, the laying down of the self, so that we may pick up our crosses and follow Jesus into life, death, and resurrection! Laying down our lives might be the scariest thing we ever do, but nothing will ever be as fulfilling as Christ living in our place.

See the Cross Differently!

Perhaps you have heard the quote made famous by Lenny Bruce, “If Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic school children would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses.” This is shocking falling upon our ears; however, I wonder if we have become too sterilized to the sight of a cross. I mean think about it, when was the last time you were shocked to see a cross? Has this ever even happened to you?

In our Christian-saturated culture in the Southeastern United States we have become immune to the cross. Maybe if one happens upon a Catholic or Anglo-Catholic church with an almost nude Jesus crucified on the cross one might flinch, but otherwise it has simply become an important accessory to wear. However, on this Holy Cross Day we are charged to see the Truth of the Cross: what was an instrument of shameful torture and death has been transformed into a sign and symbol of, and gateway into eternal life.

We remember Holy Cross Day on September 14th as a result of the emperor Constantine and his mother the empress Helena constructing a monumental complex on the site of Calvary, which builders finished on this day in the year 335. What is now the Church of the Holy Speulchre had two distinct buildings: a large basilica used for the Liturgy of the Word and a round church for the Liturgy of the Table. This latter facility, which was merely called “the Resurrection,” had its Altar on the actual place where Jesus’ tomb was believed to be. What an image! The place of death transformed into the table of life! And, while this remembering of the constructing of this facility stands out as significant, what this day bids me to do is to see the Cross differently.

A few times in my life seeing a Cross affected me to my core. When I had my Cursillo crossed put over my head by Bishop Santosh Marray. The time I first served as crucifer when I was a child. And, most strikingly the day I stepped onto the campus of the Seminary of the Southwest where I was trained to be a priest.

Inside Christ Chapel no crosses hang on any walls. Very little, in fact resides on any of the funky asymmetrical insides of that space. Instead, the major feature that the space immediately calls one toward is the east window. Right outside that window sits a gigantic cross. This structure expands from bottom-to-top and the arms reach out to almost hug the viewer. Its three-sided nature ensures that wherever one is on campus the cross faces the seer. When I first saw this cross I was stunned. So many days I pondered how that cross reaching out in all directions calls us to remember how Christ Jesus transformed that shameful torture device into a way of resurrection for all of Creation.

In John’s Gospel for today Jesus could foresee that when he was lifted up he would draw all of Creation to him. On this Holy Cross Day we are drawn close to our Lord who forgave from the Cross, invited a thief into paradise from the Cross, and leads us into a life of Resurrection through that Cross. Jesus calls us to die to ourselves and no longer live for ourselves, but for Christ who died and rose again. It may not be every day that you are surprised by the Cross, but today allow the invitation of the Cross reach into your heart, so that you may die to yourself and live as a servant of Christ.

Results Based Spirituality

It happens to the best of us. We spend time and energy paying attention to outcomes whether they are how our favorite team fared over the weekend, how our candidate is polling, or how the markets end on a given day. Maybe it is human nature or our ever shortening attention spans, but something within us pushes us to oversimplifying everything down to only focus upon the results. Is this what God dreams for us?

In Acts 14:1-18 we hear two stories depicting heroes of faith sharing with others the Good News of God. However, the outcomes of the stories could not have been more different. Let us look back at Paul and Barnabas to learn about something beyond results-based living.

In a synagogue in Iconium the two apostles spoke such that many Jewish and Gentile people became believers. There were others who did not believe what the men said. And, as they continued to preach, teach, and show signs of God’s wonder many became angry. Both the Greeks and the Jews turned to violence in an attempt to shut the apostles up, as they attempted to stone the men, which led Paul and Barnabas to leave.

In Lystra the apostles did precisely the same thing, as they preached, taught, and showed signs of God’s wonder, but this time things were drastically different. A man who had been unable to use his feet and had never walked in his entire life heard Paul speaking. The message that the apostle spoke compelled the crippled man so much that when Paul intently looked at him his faith in God showed clearly. Paul said in a loud voice, “Stand upright on your feet.” The man sprang up and began to walk around, which amazed the crowds.

As a result of this healing the crowds were so enthralled that they thought that Paul and Barnabas were Greek gods who had come to earth. They called Barnabas Zeus, king of the gods, and Paul they called Hermes, as he was the chief speaker. The apostles revolted against such comparisons claiming they were mere mortals. They even went on to direct the crowd’s attention away from worthless worship of lesser gods, so that they might turn towards the One, True God. Even in this though they were unsuccessful, as the people wanted to direct sacrifices to the men they thought immortal.

Two stories in this passage from the Acts of the Apostles. One was unsuccessful and the other was seemingly successful in making the masses happy, but even in Lystra they struggled to direct others to taking hold of the message of Christ. These two encounters beg the question what does success look like in God’s eyes?

In the first story the apostles converted many. In the second they cured, but who knows if the crowd went on to believe in the One, True God. If we are purely focused on the results perhaps we might feel better about the second story, but was the first one any less significant? How do we measure good results in our spiritual lives and in our lives in general?

Life in Christ does not have a scoreboard, political tracker, or stock ticker. Faith focuses upon consenting every day to God’s will for us not with how many souls we save. While success may make us feel good for a moment, we would do well to learn to dwell in the Truth that God will take care of the results. God invites us to live life in Christ and to teach, preach, and share his ways with others. When we trust in God the results take care of themselves.

God’s Economic Plan

I am no economist. Most of the time I get my wise business practices from Marketplace Morning Report on N.P.R. In my new life as part of a married couple our household is working on having a better grasp of finances through taking Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University. Still I am no economic expert; however, if you asked me about how God’s economy might work, I have more than my fair share to say.

God’s economy does not run the same way that our worldly systems do. We often believe an undergirding assumption that there is a thing called scarcity in which not enough resources exist for everyone to get his or her share. This is what creates the demand for products in our world. In God’s world there is no such thing as scarcity, but rather everything exists in abundance. When everyone wants some collector item or is ogling over a new gadget or gizmo God is beckoning us to see what truly matters, what is of deeper value. Some of us get this more easily than others.

Today we remember Saint Aidan who was Bishop of Lindisfarne in England. For much of his life Aidan served God in a monastery; however, when King Oswald ascended the throne in Northumbria restoring Christianity to the realm he called for a new bishop. Most at the time would have looked to Canterbury for a bishop, but not Oswald. He had been exiled in Iona, so he called there for a new missionary. Aidan was sent from Iona and he not only restored Christianity to that area of the island, but south through the Midlands almost to London. More than his gentle spirit, Aidan was known for his love of the poor.

The Venerable Bede, the great historian, remembered Aidan in such a positive light. He wrote, “He neither sought nor loved anything of this world, but delighted in distributing immediately to the poor whatever was given him by kings or rich men of the world” (Holy Women, Holy Men, 552). Aidan knew the abundance of God’s economy. He understood that in giving away he still always had more than enough. At times though this reality can be hard to comprehend. We all may struggle with the concept of giving away all that we have.

Bishop Aidan understood this struggle, and so he often invited any person he saw, rich or poor, pagan or Christian, “to embrace the mystery of the faith” (Holy Women, Holy Men, 552). This overwhelming belief in something he could not fully comprehend emphasized how he could do what he did. If he trusted and embraced the mystery of God. If he was able to hold fast to a God who would take care of him, even when Aidan knew he would give away all things, then he could go deeper into the mystery of the faith and more fully embrace the overwhelming love of God.

This is the difficulty and the gift of our faith. We must have open arms to embrace God’s mystery. We must have open hands both to receive what we are given by God and to give to others from the abundance given unto us. This is the flow of God’s economy. It is not in hoarding and hiding away that we become rich, but it is in being like Aidan a good steward of God’s gifts who so freely shared of the abundance of this Creation!

No Fence Sitting

When the North American Consultation of Common Texts and the International English Language Liturgical Consultation publicly released the Revised Common Lectionary in 1994, I wonder if they even knew what they had set into motion that will become a reality this Sunday morning. When these groups of representatives and scholars from various denominations put together what text would be read on what day did they look ahead to September 4, 2016 and scoff? Did these people think, “Well, we know that will be Labor Day weekend, and we know that College Football typically kicks off that weekend, and we can see that the teams in Alabama are pretty good, but we do not care. Even after being so faithful as to wake up early enough to go to church on that holiday weekend the people present are going to have to hear a passage filled with a fiery, challenging charge towards Jerusalem from Jesus of Nazareth.” As I continue to reflect on our gospel passage for Sunday morning, I keep having to swallow hard to abate the ball of nerves jumping up to my throat!

As Evan Garner and I discussed this passage yesterday, he said a preacher could stand up and say, “Would you rather me tell you that Jesus is wrong or would you prefer that I tell you to give up all your possessions?” This question raised from the Good News leaves very little room to sit on the fence. And, as much as I want to find some place to hide within Jesus’ challenging words, I am finding that “there’s no shade in the shadow of the Cross” to quote Sufjan Stevens. So what do we do both as preachers and as ones who want to follow Jesus?

When I first moved to Decatur, I joined the crossfit gym. The very focused, high-energy, and countercultural atmosphere made it appealing to me. I had to take beginner classes before I could officially come to regular classes. When I finished learning how to do Olympic lifts, how to recover through eating well, and some of the crossfit jargon I felt ready to begin my life as a cross-fitter. For weeks I was sore. I was tired. I felt like I did not have clue what I was doing. Eventually though I got the hang of what I was doing and even improved my weight lifting, speed, and overall fitness level. A few months later though I realized I was not really recovering. I kept being tired and sore. Then, I heard first hand stories from others at the gym about their injuries, and after some consideration I stopped going to the gym. I could not cut it as a crossfit disciple.

I have no shame in my decision to quite that program. I love running. I love exercising in other ways and would suggest I am as healthy now as I have been since graduating from college, but what the crossfit experience taught me is that sometimes disciplines are too difficult for us to follow. Even my journey with Jesus sometimes causes me to wonder, “Am I really cut out to be a disciple?”

Jesus puts out there three different criteria in this passage that are criteria for becoming his followers:
1. You must put discipleship above all other things, even to the point of hating father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, even life itself.
2. You must be willing through your discipleship to even take on great suffering by picking up your cross.
3. You must give away all your possessions if you are to be a follower of Jesus.

God’s love invariably extends to all of us. Jesus’ loving sacrifice brought all of Creation to God, and we have no say in whether we opt in or out of this love. However, being a disciple seems like a very different thing than being the subject of God’s love. All of us get included in the unconditional love of Christ. All of us though may not be willing to take on the disciplines of following Jesus. Through this passage we are forced into weighing the costs of becoming a disciple. We are challenged by Jesus to either keep walking or go home. We cannot sit on the fence.

But unlike going to a crossfit gym in which we are weighed down by the choice to keep going, I would say there is freedom in choosing to follow Jesus as his follower. When we prioritize the Kingdom's values we do not automatically hate our families. However, following the Kingdom's goals of love, forgiveness, inclusion, justice, and faith will simplify our lives, even when our families may complicate it. Self-sacrifice and even knowingly taking on suffering for the sake of the Kingdom of God gives us a purpose that extends far beyond our own selfish ambitions. Finally, giving away things that we own will allow us not to be owned or weighed down by earthly obsessions.

Being a disciple is not a fence-sitting vocation. Rather, we are challenged to do something hard, but more worthwhile than anything else imaginable. We may not accomplish it overnight and we certainly cannot do it alone, but God calls each of us to walk more closely to Jesus in the way of Christ!

Hate Is Such a Strong Word

Hate is such a strong word at least that is how the saying goes. I would imagine that parents, teachers, coaches, mentors, and religious leaders have uttered warnings about refraining from saying, “I hate ________” for centuries. But why? Why all the hatred towards hate?

Perhaps people want to avoid the feeling of hatred itself. Maybe human beings fear that hatred will overcome them entirely (see Anakin Skywalker’s transformation into Darth Vader). And yet, when we attempt to ignore or avoid something by quietly sweeping it under the rug, rather than dealing with it, we tend to veer straight towards that object. If we do not want to get angry ignoring our anger is a perfect way to get angrier. The same may apply to hatred. Rarely can we control such strong, existential phenomena as angry, hate, or love. However, what if this is not what is really meant by the word hate?

In this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson (Luke 14:25-33) Jesus says to large crowds traveling with him, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” Hate may be a strong word, but Jesus does not shy away from using it when addressing a mass of humanity following him. Jesus, I believe, was not calling his disciples to some strange practices with harsh rhetoric, but rather was using hate in a much different way than we use the word today.

When Jesus said to hate life itself he was not blithely tossing around a power-packed word, nor was he carelessly dropping the h-bomb (hate-bomb in case you are wondering) to gather attention like an angsty teen. No, Jesus’ use of hate was a morally sophisticated challenge for all those who listened to him speak and even to us today. Hate was not a feeling of dissatisfaction, distaste, or repulsion, but rather the verb Jesus used implied making a decision about one’s life and choices.

The word μισέω (miseó) is the Greek verb meaning to hate (who doesn’t love looking at a Greek word for hate on a Monday morning?), and it is a translation of what we believe Jesus said to the crowds. This word calls one into making a moral choice, as it implies not so much a negative feeling as a preferred value. In other words, Jesus was not asking us to be brats towards our family or to carelessly throw away our lives, but rather he was saying to be a follower of Jesus means elevating that way of existing above everything else—even really good other choices like our spouse. Hate in this regard then is a very strong word and it requires us to examine how we are ordering our lives.

What must you be willing to give up, so that you may more fully be in relationship with God? What must you value more, so that you may deepen your relationship with the Divine? How must you live and move and have your being, such that you instinctively exude the love, peace, forgiveness, and joy of Christ? Hate is a strong word, but it is a word that requires you to make a choice. What do you choose?  

You’re Invited…To Invite!

My friend’s mother recently told me about an etiquette podcast featuring the grandchildren of Emily Post, the famed manners guru. I am unsure if I had done something to offend my friend’s mom, or if she was merely making conversation. For good reason I imagine that it was the former rather than the latter. I am woefully untrained when it comes to decorum.

I never attended Cotillion class. My mother and grandmother attempted to pass along good graces to me, but I could never quite grasp the finer aspects of how to behave at a dinner party. I still put my elbows on the table, which I will point out is not as big a faux pas throughout the rest of the world, like in France, as it is here. With an elaborate table setting I always wait to discover what utensil I am required to use with what course. Perhaps most embarrassingly I often forget to pause for all the ladies to be seated before I myself sit down, leaving me looking like anything but a gentleman. However, despite all my unruly manners I have learned one paramount rule of etiquette: never sit in a place of honor without the host inviting me to do so first.

Today’s Gospel lesson begins with what Jesus says is a parable. This seems far more like some sound dinner party advice rather than a challenging story in which one must re-imagine existence in light of the Kingdom of God, like the story of the Prodigal Son or the Good Samaritan. Instead Jesus paints a picture of a wedding banquet. We can recall a scenario in which we have attended such a gather at which we cautiously had to discern our place at one table or another. Who would possibly dare sit next to the Father-of-the-Bride if one were not his best friend, child, or spouse? Instead of assembling at the head table we would do well to find a place near the back of the room and have the host come tell us to move up closer. What happens though when we think about this advice in other settings?

While it was not a meal, I can distinctly recall a time when I felt like I was sitting in the worst seat imaginable. A couple friends and I decided to attend a Coldplay concert in Nashville a few years ago. As we were not making a lot of extra cash we had to scrape together money just to get seats near the back of Bridgestone Arena. We were almost as far away from the stage as one could be while still being in the venue.

In the middle of the show the band took a short set break. I thought they were going to change outfits or instruments, but all of a sudden the band appeared about 50 feet away from where we were sitting. They said that at some point they had been the boys in the nosebleed seats, but that those way in the back are no less fans. Then, they proceeded to play an acoustic set dedicated to the fans in the back of the coliseum. This was the first time I had seen a band show such a heartwarming gesture, but as I reflect upon it what they did is like the host of a party coming to raise up a lowly guest.

If Jesus truly is telling us a parable and not just giving us good advice about being exalted through staying humble, then this story must lead us somewhere more than just something that Emily Post might have written. The band coming and performing at the back of the auditorium is like the host raising up a lowly guest, and this is like what God does with us. God, in the person of Jesus, stooped down to come and dwell among us. Becoming incarnate in Jesus God came to lead us to the biggest feast, the most extravagant banquet imaginable.

If this is a parable, then we must move a little bit from where we started to see how the Kingdom of God looks, so what does it look like? Well, in the Kingdom of God the Table looks a little different than the Sabbath feast at the table of the leader of the Pharisees. Instead of only those who had the means to pay the leader back, Jesus recommended inviting “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.” In other words, Our Lord challenged the host to invite everyone to the meal because that is what will happen at the banquet in the Kingdom of God. While this appears uplifting, is it even pragmatic or possible?

In the Episcopal Church, we are fantastic at hosting events. I am so impressed when we have potluck occasions. So many people bring delicious food. So many hands help to prepare and clean up the parish hall or other venue. So much time and energy goes into these feasts, but inevitably someone will say, “Well, I can’t believe we do not have more visitors,” or “I wish we had more diversity here.” Me too. I want this so much, but so often I hear it and express it myself as an afterthought. So what?

In the wake of these statements I have a hard time discerning what to say. Instead of relying on the little wisdom I have we would do well to observe not the practical advice Jesus offered in today’s Good News, but rather how to reveal the Kingdom of God right now. If we want this community to grow as God dreams it can, we have two tasks that Jesus lays out for us. First, we must invite people who cannot pay us back, who may not have the same manners, who come from different backgrounds, and who look different than we do. This is not always easy. We sometimes fall into the trap of saying we are bad at Evangelism in the Episcopal Church. I think this is baloney! How do we invite people? We tell them of the ways that God is working here at St. John’s Church at Banks-Caddell, in our community garden, in our altar, flower, and bread guilds, in our children’s ministries, in our youth group, and in our Christian formation! This is actually the easy step.

The second step stands out as more challenging. We must also must be willing to give those who may not be able to give back the seats that we so often occupy. The most difficult thing for a new family or visitor to see when they walk into a church is no empty pew. If there is no spot for them they won’t come back. And, this extends not just to our Sunday worship, but to ministry in general. If there is no open spot for someone to join a ministry, then it is very hard for someone to feel welcome.

At this altar all people have a place, but we must extend this Table out into this community, into this city, and into this world. Jesus came to be with us and to show us the way back to the greatest feast. We are all invited to join in the festivities. God charges us to invite others into this feast and not just in insignificant ways, but God calls us to give up our places of honor, so that we might all share in a rich feast! In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.