Double Share

A lot of activity in the Late Night Bible Study community. We had a guest join us for a few days who wanted to let us in one some important opportunities. As one with Scots heritage who has never had a tan in his life, the offer of skin whitening cream didn’t interest me at all, but the spy software, now that was tempting. It is good to keep track of everyone, to have insider information, to know what is going on at all times. That would be cool, to say the least. Provided that it worked, which I doubt. As with most too good to miss kind of deals. So, despite my commitment to hospitality, I unceremoniously removed our interloper. So, you shouldn’t receive any further invitations of that ilk, at least for a while.

Unless you consider the invitations regularly issued in this space as also too good to be true. It isn’t usually a hard sell, I admit, but there is usually a call of some sort here. Sometimes it is a do or to be something. Sometimes it is to understand something. Sometimes it is an encouragement to take another look at something. And that something is often yourself.

This is the weekend before Lent begins and is, traditionally, Transfiguration Sunday. That’s that odd story in Matthew and Mark about Jesus on the mountain and the change in his face and clothes and the words from the cloud and the light. You remember that story. One of those we sit and listen to and say “huh.” Because it is, after all, about Jesus. It is just something for us to see, or to wonder about. It’s about Jesus and who he was and who he is. We are bystanders, observers, at best. It is about Jesus.

At least that is what we’ve always assumed. So, this year I decided to not read the Gospel story and to pick the Old Testament passage assigned for this Transfiguration Sunday. To see if maybe it might help us see this story a little differently.

2 Kings 2:1-12 Now when the LORD was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on their way from Gilgal. 2 Elijah said to Elisha, "Stay here; for the LORD has sent me as far as Bethel." But Elisha said, "As the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you." So they went down to Bethel. 3 The company of prophets who were in Bethel came out to Elisha, and said to him, "Do you know that today the LORD will take your master away from you?" And he said, "Yes, I know; keep silent." 4 Elijah said to him, "Elisha, stay here; for the LORD has sent me to Jericho." But he said, "As the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you." So they came to Jericho. 5 The company of prophets who were at Jericho drew near to Elisha, and said to him, "Do you know that today the LORD will take your master away from you?" And he answered, "Yes, I know; be silent." 6 Then Elijah said to him, "Stay here; for the LORD has sent me to the Jordan." But he said, "As the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you." So the two of them went on. 7 Fifty men of the company of prophets also went, and stood at some distance from them, as they both were standing by the Jordan. 8 Then Elijah took his mantle and rolled it up, and struck the water; the water was parted to the one side and to the other, until the two of them crossed on dry ground. 9 When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, "Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you." Elisha said, "Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit." 10 He responded, "You have asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not." 11 As they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. 12 Elisha kept watching and crying out, "Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!" But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces.

Like the Gospel story this “transfiguration” is all about Elijah. The old word was translation. This is the story of the translation of Elijah. It begins with the whole story in the first verse “When the Lord was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a whirlwind.” Wait. When the Lord was about to... When? That’s kind of an odd way to present the climax, the main point of the whole story, isn’t it? It almost makes you think that the point of this story is something other than the miracle. Something other than the special effects.

Please don’t misunderstand, I love the wide screen stuff. I like the lights and sounds and the awe-inspiring wonder of some of this Old Testament stuff here. Chariots of Fire, wow! Horses of fire, wow 2! A whirlwind carrying Dorothy off to Oz. I mean Elijah off to God’s heaven, wow to the max. I would have stood there with my mouth open not making a sound like the company of prophets who came and stood on the other side of the Jordan to watch the spectacle, standing at a safe distance so as not to get fiery horse droppings on their heads. I’m ready to applaud the awesomeness of God just like anyone else. But Jesus had a few words about miracles for show, as I recall, so I’m inclined to think that maybe the pyrotechnics are not the center of this story. Whether we are talking about the light show with Jesus on the mountain or the last round-up with Elijah and the whirlwind.

Let’s take another look at this story to see if we can figure out what it is really about. For example, why does God take Elijah on such an extended journey to the pick up point? Sort of a Close Encounters vibe, in a way. And yet would it profit Elijah (sorry, bad pun there) to make this journey? A farewell tour? If so, he didn’t say much, no proclamations, no final warnings or sermons. Just one foot in front of another, mile after mile - it was just a couple of miles short of a marathon, near as we can tell. Twenty-three miles of marching from place to place at the directions of a God who can’t read the timetables of the Jordan Cannonball.

Unless, it wasn’t for Elijah. What if, just suppose for a moment, it was all for Elisha? What if the constant suggestion that he go away was not a request from an old man about to meet his maker, but a test from a mentor prophet. The trip was for Elisha, a rehearsal of the activity of God with God’s people. The first destination was Bethel, where God dropped a ladder and made a promise of Presence. The second destination was Jericho, where God proved that there are no walls, no barriers strong enough to block that Presence and that Hope. Then there was the final destination, the Jordan River, the entrance, the welcome home, the gate opened by the hand of God.

Then because he went along, Elijah asked the question, what do you need still. “A double share,” answers Elijah. Greedy? Make me twice as good as you? Was that what he said? Well, no. A double share meant, let me be your heir. Let me stand for you, let me represent you, let me be you to those who miss you as I will miss you. Let me love like you loved, serve like you served. Let me be the one who carries on hoping in God, the one who points out the brokenness within only because there is healing to be found. Let me bring God’s word to God’s people.

Elisha was the one who was transfigured. Just like the disciples were the ones transfigured on that mountain with Jesus. Oh, I know it was His face and His robe that shown like light. But when that voice said “Listen to Him,” the disciples became something more than what they had been, something more than was within them to be. Transfiguration is about Jesus, yes certainly. But it is also about us. Like Elisha, we’ve been led on a journey and asked a question. Led through the Providence and Presence and Power of God and then asked what we need. And we reply, give us a double share. Let us speak for you, let us live for you, let us service for you, let us love for you, let us die for you.

It’s a hard thing, Elijah replies to us. We know that. We’ve wrestled with it before. But in the end it is an offer we can’t refuse. Give us a double share.

Shalom,
Derek

Spending Time

“Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I’ll spend the first four sharpening the axe.” In honor of Abraham Lincoln’s birthday on February 12th, I open with a Lincoln quote. He was one of our most quotable presidents, I must say. The difficulty was not in finding one, but in choosing one. There are certainly more profound ones that could have started this bible study. “A house divided” and all of that, that was Lincoln. Well, OK, it was Jesus to start out with, but then Lincoln picked it up when lamenting the civil war and what it was doing to our nation.

One of my favorite Lincoln quotes is “Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?” I like that one. Sometimes they are funny ones: “I can make more generals, but horses cost money.” He was a witty guy was our Abe.

But I chose the one I chose because we are in the second week of our series on time. The text that Pastor Chris chose is ... well, it is way long for one thing. It goes on and on and on. And it is from Leviticus. Now if that doesn’t scare you, I don’t know what would.

OK, just kidding there. Leviticus is a fine book, one of the big five, or Pentateuch as they called it then. So, I would never speak ill of it. Heck, some of my best laws are levitical. So there.

The passage is about the ordering of time. Or as Chris puts it in his sermon title “the re-ordering of time.” Which means what, exactly? Well, take a look. At least give it a skim if you don’t want to read all the way through. Like I said, a long passage.

Leviticus 23:1-38 The LORD spoke to Moses, saying: 2 Speak to the people of Israel and say to them: These are the appointed festivals of the LORD that you shall proclaim as holy convocations, my appointed festivals. 3 Six days shall work be done; but the seventh day is a sabbath of complete rest, a holy convocation; you shall do no work: it is a sabbath to the LORD throughout your settlements. 4 These are the appointed festivals of the LORD, the holy convocations, which you shall celebrate at the time appointed for them. 5 In the first month, on the fourteenth day of the month, at twilight, there shall be a passover offering to the LORD, 6 and on the fifteenth day of the same month is the festival of unleavened bread to the LORD; seven days you shall eat unleavened bread. 7 On the first day you shall have a holy convocation; you shall not work at your occupations. 8 For seven days you shall present the LORD's offerings by fire; on the seventh day there shall be a holy convocation: you shall not work at your occupations. 9 The LORD spoke to Moses:

10 Speak to the people of Israel and say to them: When you enter the land that I am giving you and you reap its harvest, you shall bring the sheaf of the first fruits of your harvest to the priest. 11 He shall raise the sheaf before the LORD, that you may find acceptance; on the day after the sabbath the priest shall raise it. 12 On the day when you raise the sheaf, you shall offer a lamb a year old, without blemish, as a burnt offering to the LORD. 13 And the grain offering with it shall be two-tenths of an ephah of choice flour mixed with oil, an offering by fire of pleasing odor to the LORD; and the drink offering with it shall be of wine, one-fourth of a hin. 14 You shall eat no bread or parched grain or fresh ears until that very day, until you have brought the offering of your God: it is a statute forever throughout your generations in all your settlements. 15 And from the day after the sabbath, from the day on which you bring the sheaf of the elevation offering, you shall count off seven weeks; they shall be complete.

16 You shall count until the day after the seventh sabbath, fifty days; then you shall present an offering of new grain to the LORD. 17 You shall bring from your settlements two loaves of bread as an elevation offering, each made of two-tenths of an ephah; they shall be of choice flour, baked with leaven, as first fruits to the LORD. 18 You shall present with the bread seven lambs a year old without blemish, one young bull, and two rams; they shall be a burnt offering to the LORD, along with their grain offering and their drink offerings, an offering by fire of pleasing odor to the LORD.

19 You shall also offer one male goat for a sin offering, and two male lambs a year old as a sacrifice of well-being. 20 The priest shall raise them with the bread of the first fruits as an elevation offering before the LORD, together with the two lambs; they shall be holy to the LORD for the priest. 21 On that same day you shall make proclamation; you shall hold a holy convocation; you shall not work at your occupations. This is a statute forever in all your settlements throughout your generations. 22 When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and for the alien: I am the LORD your God.

23 The LORD spoke to Moses, saying: 24 Speak to the people of Israel, saying: In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe a day of complete rest, a holy convocation commemorated with trumpet blasts. 25 You shall not work at your occupations; and you shall present the LORD's offering by fire. 26 The LORD spoke to Moses, saying: 27 Now, the tenth day of this seventh month is the day of atonement; it shall be a holy convocation for you: you shall deny yourselves and present the LORD's offering by fire; 28 and you shall do no work during that entire day; for it is a day of atonement, to make atonement on your behalf before the LORD your God. 29 For anyone who does not practice self-denial during that entire day shall be cut off from the people. 30 And anyone who does any work during that entire day, such a one I will destroy from the midst of the people. 31 You shall do no work: it is a statute forever throughout your generations in all your settlements. 32 It shall be to you a sabbath of complete rest, and you shall deny yourselves; on the ninth day of the month at evening, from evening to evening you shall keep your sabbath. 33 The LORD spoke to Moses, saying:

34 Speak to the people of Israel, saying: On the fifteenth day of this seventh month, and lasting seven days, there shall be the festival of booths to the LORD. 35 The first day shall be a holy convocation; you shall not work at your occupations. 36 Seven days you shall present the LORD's offerings by fire; on the eighth day you shall observe a holy convocation and present the LORD's offerings by fire; it is a solemn assembly; you shall not work at your occupations. 37 These are the appointed festivals of the LORD, which you shall celebrate as times of holy convocation, for presenting to the LORD offerings by fire-- burnt offerings and grain offerings, sacrifices and drink offerings, each on its proper day-- 38 apart from the sabbaths of the LORD, and apart from your gifts, and apart from all your votive offerings, and apart from all your freewill offerings, which you give to the LORD.

Whew. What was that all about? Well, the re-ordering of time. Or sharpening the ax. Or ... It is about choosing how we spend our time. And remembering that our first allegiance is to God. And therefore choosing to do that which prepares us for the task that God has given to us. Which is many and varied, but at the heart is about being the body of Christ. It is about ordering ourselves in such a way that we are honed in ways that are useful to God and to our deepest selves, fulfilling our purpose and building up the body.

So, then, what do you want to spend your time doing? Chasing the empty promises of a consumer culture? Or seeking after that which brings us the most profound joy - service, sacrifice, reconciliation and relationship?

Excuse me, but I have an axe to sharpen. How about you?

Shalom,
Derek

Time is a Fire

I ran across this poem recently. It is by Delmore Schwartz, an American poet of the early 20th Century. He lived in New York and many of his poems are of the observational type. He simply looks around him and describes what he sees. It is often the very mundane, people walking in a park, or sitting on a bus, but in his description it becomes something more. Something eternal, in a way.

The poem I am referring to is titled “Calmly We Walk Through This April Day.” It begins, “Calmly we walk through this April's day, / Metropolitan poetry here and there, / In the park sit pauper and rentier, / The screaming children, the motor-car.” The poet goes on to observe that things are passing by, all we see will one day be gone.

Time, like an ever rolling stream,/ Bears all its sons away; / They fly, forgotten, as a dream / Dies at the opening day. Maybe that seems more familiar. The hymn “O God Our Help in Ages Past” has as the 5th verse this somewhat depressing realization that we are helpless in the face of the march of time.

Or maybe it is just me. Having just come through an ordeal with my father in law and presiding over his funeral, maybe I am seeing things through a glass dimly. We took some time off, mostly because Ellen Rhoades, who is much wiser than I am apparently, knew I needed it. And she was right. The reordering of life, the re-examination of time is a difficult process that weighs on us more that I realized. “Time is the fire in which we burn,” Schwartz writes. And it isn’t easy, this being burned up thing. This being burned out.

Which might be why our passage for this week is one we avoid at all costs. Oh, it is familiar enough, thanks to the folk rock group the Byrds and their song “Turn, Turn, Turn” way back in the mid 60's. So, we know it, but do we really embrace it? Or even understand it? Read this, (and try not to let the tune enter your head while you do!)

Ecclesiastes 3:1-17 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: 2 a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; 3 a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5 a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6 a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; 7 a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8 a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace. 9 What gain have the workers from their toil? 10 I have seen the business that God has given to everyone to be busy with. 11 He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. 12 I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; 13 moreover, it is God's gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil. 14 I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has done this, so that all should stand in awe before him. 15 That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and God seeks out what has gone by. 16 Moreover I saw under the sun that in the place of justice, wickedness was there, and in the place of righteousness, wickedness was there as well. 17 I said in my heart, God will judge the righteous and the wicked, for he has appointed a time for every matter, and for every work.

We went on a bit long there. Longer than we are used to, anyway. We usually stop before verse 9 which raises a question we’d rather not think about. And you can’t help but feel, as you read on from there, that the Preacher (the author of Ecclesiastes, while tradition believed it was Solomon, calls himself Qohelet, which is translated as the Teacher, or the Preacher) says “what’s the point? Just eat, drink and be merry, cause that’s all there is!”

Some have tried to find some significance to the list of things there is a time for in the first part of this reading. Declaring that these are the weighty matters of life, these are the things that God makes time for, and anything else ought not to be engaged in. Sort of an ancient “never be triflingly employed” that John Wesley quoted much later on. And maybe there is something to this list. But on the other hand it just seems like an arbitrary list (a time to seek and a time to lose?) that we could continue almost ad infinitum – a time to sleep in and a time to get up, a time to eat Cheerios and a time for toast, a time to play ping pong and a time to read your Kindle, and on and on and on. And on.

So what do we do with this seemingly meaningless existence? Do we just enjoy it while it lasts? Or do we find something bigger to live for? Something more profound to build our existence around? And how do we find that in the midst of the ever rolling stream that bears all our sons, our loved ones, ourselves away?

I don’t know for sure, to be honest and I hope that Pastor Chris can figure this out for us on Sunday morning (you think I’d tackle something like this?), but in the meantime I offer you the conclusion of the poem that I found as perhaps a pointer to that something. Take a look:

Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.

Maybe that’s what we’re left with. Yes, there is the fire that burns, yes there is loss and grief and that which is no more. But there is also the school in which we learn. We are the result of our experiences and our encounters. I have learned from the past and from those I have known in the past. While some are now gone what I have learned remains with me and becomes part of what I have to teach and to share to others.

Which means maybe this fire that burns isn’t a consuming fire, but a purifying one. One that makes us stronger, better. Maybe when the Preacher says that God has appointed a time for every matter, we are that matter; a time for every work, we are that work. Maybe time is a gift, our gift and how we use it, what we fill it with is our response to that gift.

What time is it? Maybe that is a deeper question than we realized. Maybe it is more theological than we usually admit.

What time is it? Your time. My time. God’s time. It’s time.

Shalom,
Derek

Rise Up

Friday morning at around 4a.m. while his daughter dozed somewhat fitfully on the couch next to him having been up to provide medicines and words of comfort and love multiple times during this night and many nights before, Donald Riddle died as peacefully as he could given the days of pain and wasting away that had been his life for these past few weeks and months.

The breath we had been holding for so many days is now released with grief and loss, but also with relief and peace. With a sigh too deep for words, we breathe again as we put one foot in front of another into the new reality in which we now live. But we know we walk with arms of support around us, prayers of strength and concern, love and comfort. We thank all you who have held us in your hearts as we made this journey with La Donna’s dad. And we embrace God’s gift of death in this life as a end to suffering, and we praise God for memories that even now rise up in our hearts and minds and speak of a life well lived, well connected, well loved.

We will celebrate his life in many ways. There will be a funeral service in South Bend on Tuesday morning at 10:30a.m., visitation at St. Joseph Funeral Home on Mayflower Road, in South Bend from 2 to 8p.m. But for most of you reading this, instead of a long winter’s journey, the best way to offer condolence is through the website set up by St Joseph’s. Simply go to http://www.sjfh.net and click on his name, Donald Riddle. There you can read the obituary that La Donna wrote and sign the guestbook if you so desire.

Most of you reading this didn’t know Don, I realize that. And some have heard me speak of him, the man he was, the family he helped to shape, the life he led. I say without equivocation that he was a man of faith. He was not demonstrative in the least about that faith, rarely spoke of matters of theology or ritual, especially with his Pastor Son-in-law. There were a few occasions over our many decades together that he would quiz me on some theological issue or church historical event or, and this is what puzzled him most, ask my opinion about the behavior of people who claimed faith. Most of the time I had to join him in a shrug of the shoulders or wide-eyed shake of the head as we examined how allegiance to Christ is lived out in some quarters.

I treasured those conversations, as rare as they were. Because they invited me into the mind of a man who lived deeply, observed widely, considered profoundly, but most importantly who lived boldly. By that I don’t mean that he was loud or brash or coveted attention, by no means. If anything he was the opposite of that. He was a quiet man, who lived his convictions more than he declared them. And in so doing redefined for me what it means to be a prophet of God.

He would shy away from the designation, I have no doubt. But someone who lives as an example of obedience and service, who puts caring for neighbor above self, who remains faithful to his covenants, abides by his own word, he is an example of the prophet raised up in our midst. At least that is what comes to my mind as I ponder our words from Deuteronomy for this week.

We are concluding our series on Call with a reminder from the Old Testament that God will take care of making sure the Word is heard. And it just might be from a surprising source. Take a look:

Deuteronomy 18:15-20 The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your own people; you shall heed such a prophet. 16 This is what you requested of the LORD your God at Horeb on the day of the assembly when you said: "If I hear the voice of the LORD my God any more, or ever again see this great fire, I will die." 17 Then the LORD replied to me: "They are right in what they have said. 18 I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their own people; I will put my words in the mouth of the prophet, who shall speak to them everything that I command. 19 Anyone who does not heed the words that the prophet shall speak in my name, I myself will hold accountable. 20 But any prophet who speaks in the name of other gods, or who presumes to speak in my name a word that I have not commanded the prophet to speak-- that prophet shall die."

We tend to focus on the hard stuff. There is a high calling to the role of the prophet, there is appropriate warning that such a calling be not taken lightly. There is danger and threat and life and death wrapped up in here. That is important to acknowledge. We are often far too casual about these faith issues, as if they were only trivial matters like what to have for lunch or what to wear on a Wednesday, instead of the deep issues of value and purpose, of meaning and eternity. So, be reminded, pay attention to how you speak and how you live.

But for me, in this moment, this is less a warning and more a comfort, or a promise. The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet. What a blessing. What a promise, to know that there will be those who will speak for God, who will represent that Presence in a tangible way. And even better “I will raise up a prophet ... from among their own people.”

One of us, could be you, could be him or her, could be me. And maybe it is all of us in turn. It isn’t really clear whether this raising up is for an office or for an event. We tend to think of a prophet as a career choice. Do you want to be an engineer or a dancer? Well, no, I was hoping to become a prophet, do you know a good college that has a prophetic track?

Sounds a bit silly, I know. And yet when we envision a prophet what comes to mind is someone who signs up for the long haul, who joins the union, wears the name tag. But maybe the promise here in Deuteronomy is that when a word of God is needed, there will be someone who can speak it. When the community is struggling for direction or decision, God will put it in the heart of someone from among us to speak that divine word. Maybe it is a role we can all play in turn.

What it takes is a willingness to be used by God. It also takes a life of dedication to that Word, we study, we listen, we contemplate, we become familiar with the Word that God has spoken so that when God speaks to us and through us, we can recognize it. We can speak it and know that we bring a Word in season, know that we speak with authority.

Or do we? Maybe we don’t know that we are filling that role. Maybe we just speak a word that seems right to us, never realizing that is more than just our word, it is the Word. Maybe when God raises up a prophet, everyone knows who it is but the one raised up. And maybe we don’t even speak that Word, but simply - or profoundly - live it out in front of any who pay attention.

That’s what this passage is about too, paying attention. God says we are held accountable. For hearing and not doing, for doing and not hearing, but also for hearing and doing. And if we want, and most of us do, want our lives to count, there is no better way.

Though I don’t think I ever said it in words, I loved my father-in-law. And I will take his example to heart, and speak with my life more than just my words. Let us rise up to life shaped by the Word, colored by love of God and family and neighbor. Rise up.

Shalom,
Derek

And Then What Happened?

It is a beautiful day today. If you are sitting in your family room with a cup of cocoa and looking out over the pristine hillsides covered with their white blanket, glistening in the bright sunshine. But if you are out trying to make your way through roads not yet cleared, it is a mess. I’ve already made two trips to the high school to drop of kids who are engaged in extra-curriculars today and then a little bit longer trip to retrieve the crazy dogs from the kennel where they spent a couple of nights while I was off leading a retreat and La Donna continues her vigil for her dad.

Yes, that’s right, I was traveling over the past couple of days. I was part of the group that crawled along I69 and then was sent off on a cross country journey by men in reflective jackets, following big trucks from Tennessee, bumper to bumper at the blistering pace of 15 miles an hour until we could re-enter the Interstate a little further south, beyond the terrible accidents that closed the road.

I was only about fifteen minutes late to my first session because I made up time at a breakneck pace around and through Indianapolis and boy did I have a story to tell. I had so much fun telling it that the next day some of the participants asked how I would have started if I had not had such a harrowing trip down! Well, I causally replied, there is always something to tell.

There is always a story to tell. That’s is what I do, that is what I am, a teller of stories. What I love most of all, is to take an experience that is not unlike the one that you have had a million times, but to tell it in such a way that it sounds different, sounds funny, sounds fantastical, over the top. Sometimes for the sheer entertainment value. I love, for example, getting my nieces going at Christmas time. They are a great audience for family stories, especially ones about their dad. And the goofier I can make him look the more they like it!

Most of the time, however, because of my other passion, the story isn’t simply for entertainment, but to make us think. A story can help us see something of significance, even in our own lives, that we might have missed in the normal course of things. A story can make us laugh at ourselves, which is something we all sorely need since we have a tendency to take ourselves way too seriously most of the time.

Like Jonah. Now he is a guy who seriously needs to lighten up. He is unique among the prophets of the Old Testament in that the book that carries his name is not really about what God spoke though him to the people of God or to the world at large. Instead this is a book about a man who struggles with his call. And it is told in such a way that you can’t help but laugh at Jonah. This is one true comedy in the whole bible. There are funny bits throughout, but this is a laugh riot from beginning to end. And to spend a whole lot of time trying to figure out whether it is historical or not, whether there really was a fish that swallowed a man, whether there really was a herd of cows wearing sackcloth and ashes, is to miss the joke. It is better understood as a parable, like the wonderful and sometimes funny stories that Jesus tells in the gospels. Full of truth that is bigger than history. So, did it really happen like it is written? Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? But did you hear the one about the prophet of God who was called to go east and he jumped the first boat going west? Here’s how it turns out:

Jonah 3:1-10 The word of the LORD came to Jonah a second time, saying, 2 "Get up, go to Nineveh, that great city, and proclaim to it the message that I tell you." 3 So Jonah set out and went to Nineveh, according to the word of the LORD. Now Nineveh was an exceedingly large city, a three days' walk across. 4 Jonah began to go into the city, going a day's walk. And he cried out, "Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!" 5 And the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast, and everyone, great and small, put on sackcloth. 6 When the news reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, removed his robe, covered himself with sackcloth, and sat in ashes. 7 Then he had a proclamation made in Nineveh: "By the decree of the king and his nobles: No human being or animal, no herd or flock, shall taste anything. They shall not feed, nor shall they drink water. 8 Human beings and animals shall be covered with sackcloth, and they shall cry mightily to God. All shall turn from their evil ways and from the violence that is in their hands. 9 Who knows? God may relent and change his mind; he may turn from his fierce anger, so that we do not perish." 10 When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.

The lectionary skips verses 6 through 9, I put them in here to point out one of the themes of the Jonah story. From beginning to end, the outsiders get it before the insider does. The king of Nineveh gets it, from a one sentence sermon by a reluctant prophet, in a way that the prophet himself never does. “Who knows,” he declares, “God may relent.” It’s worth a try, let’s get on God’s good side. Which is the very side that Jonah, the card carrying prophet of God, didn’t want to be on. Or at. He wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Well, except inside a fish. Wasn’t happy about that.

When Chapter three begins, it says “the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time.” You almost have to read capital letters and italics in there: A SECOND TIME. And the word says “get up.” Why does he have to “get up”? Because he is lying on a beach covered in fish vomit, that’s why. Talk about God reaching out in your lowest moment. Can’t imagine getting much lower than that. God didn’t reach down with a helping hand, however, it was a mission, a ministry, a calling that came to Jonah in his fishy smelling moment.

God is nothing if not persistent. That’s part of the message of Jonah. God won’t leave you alone, will come back again and again with a call. Just when you think you’ve gotten away clean on your boat to Tarshish, or in the belly of a fish, God calls again. A second time, and a third and ... When God has something for you to do, you better believe you’ll hear that voice. Maybe not as directly as Jonah did. Maybe it will be an image that won’t go away. Maybe you’ll stumble across a need more times than could be explained by coincidence. Maybe the voice of God may sound like someone you know who raises a question or makes a suggestion. Who knows?

Unfortunately, the other message from Jonah is that a call from God is likely to be something difficult, or something you’d rather not do. It may be dangerous or risky, it may be uncomfortable or strenuous. Yes, it is possible that the call is your very heart’s desire. But more often it is not. And sometimes even when it is something you’d really like to do, there are hurdles to leap and obstacles to overcome. Or someone close to you won’t think it is a good idea and try to talk you out of it. That is just the way it goes, it seems.

But on the other hand, what a story you’ll have to tell! How God called you and you went, how you leaped tall buildings and mended broken hearts, how you diverted the course of mighty rivers and taught “Jesus Loves Me” to children who smiled so big you thought the sun was shining in the room, how you changed lives and set wayward feet back on the right path. We used to call those stories testimony. And telling those stories built up the church, sustained the faithful, and gave us all a good chuckle from time to time.

So, God called you, eh? And then what happened??

Shalom,
Derek

Voice in the Night

The hospice nurse says it can’t go on much longer. Even though it feels like we have been on this journey forever, it now appears that La Donna’s dad only has a few more days at best. Prayers are always appreciated, thank you.

Last Sunday we got a call that it seemed like the end, so instead of leaving on Tuesday, like she has been doing for a couple of months, she left on Sunday afternoon. Now it is Saturday and he is still hanging in. But because death seems so close, La Donna is not coming home this weekend. And in fact is making plans to be gone all next week too, should that be necessary. She is where she needs to be, and we are happy to make it possible for her to be there. But we seem a bit lost around here.

It’s not that I’m incompetent as a dad and runner of a household. No, really. It’s not. It’s just that we get used to certain patterns, certain rhythms. We get used to defaulting to certain ones to make certain decisions, to fulfill certain tasks. And when the one who usually makes those decisions, does those tasks, is no longer around, there is a void. An emptiness that seems to suck the life out of everything. It becomes hard to do the things that we would normally do ourselves. There is a lack of focus, a depletion of will, a general malaise that settles down up all of us and we don’t even know why for sure.

All of which describes the situation for the boy Samuel. But he didn’t know it. He was just a kid, doing what he was told. He didn’t have any sense of the big picture. He didn’t know what was behind the scenes, what was underneath the daily duties he performed without question, or what was above the ceiling which caught to wisps of smoke from the lantern in the holy place. All he knew was duty, and he did it. Mostly because there wasn’t anyone else to do it. Eli, his mentor, was going blind and could no longer perform the duties of his office. And his sons, who should have been stepping up to fulfill those duties had already made such a mess of their power and authority that faith in the institution of the priesthood was at a very low ebb.

But Samuel just did his job. No matter what was swirling around him, he performed his duties. And this was the result.

1 Samuel 3:1-10 Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the LORD under Eli. The word of the LORD was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. 2 At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; 3 the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was. 4 Then the LORD called, "Samuel! Samuel!" and he said, "Here I am!" 5 and ran to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call; lie down again." So he went and lay down. 6 The LORD called again, "Samuel!" Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call, my son; lie down again." 7 Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD, and the word of the LORD had not yet been revealed to him. 8 The LORD called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." Then Eli perceived that the LORD was calling the boy. 9 Therefore Eli said to Samuel, "Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, 'Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.'" So Samuel went and lay down in his place. 10 Now the LORD came and stood there, calling as before, "Samuel! Samuel!" And Samuel said, "Speak, for your servant is listening."

“The word of the Lord was rare in those days.” Seems an odd sort of beginning for a story that takes place in the temple of the Lord. And yet there it is. So, Samuel’s days were filled with the thousand little details that Eli could no longer perform in order to keep the rituals ready for the people of God, who were like sheep without a shepherd, because the word of the Lord was rare in those days.

Makes you wonder what people turned to when they didn’t have access to the voice of God, doesn’t it? What sorts of authority did people call on, what sorts of diversions did they obsess over, what sorts of voices did they listen to? To fill the empty nights and to cover up the loneliness of living what sounds did they ache for?

Living a directionless life is draining as well as pointless. It messes with your sense of self-worth as well as emptying you of ambition and of hope. So, what are we left with these days, when “the word of the Lord is rare”? Are we just supposed to generate our own direction? Are we left to our own devices? It is, indeed, all about us after all?

Or do we listen deeper? Is there something to hear after all? We’ve convinced ourselves that what we see is what we get, or this is all there is, or ... whatever. But even though the word of the Lord is rare, even though those who are supposed to speak for the are going blind, the “lamp of God has not yet gone out.” We may have given up on God, but God has not given up on us.

The Voice still calls. It may be night in our souls, the darkness of doubt and fear and emptiness, but the voice still calls. That is what our faith tells us, when our ears are wearying of listening to the silence. But then, there isn’t any silence any more, is there? That may be why we don’t hear, not because it is too quiet, but because it is too loud. Loud in our world with distractions aplenty, voices calling, blaming, warning, vying for our attention. Loud in our souls where we are filled up with our own questions and fears, filled up with our own failures and inadequacies. It is so loud we don’t hear the Voice any more, the Voice that leads and comforts, the Voice that challenges and guides. We don’t hear it anymore because we’ve stopped listening. Or if we do hear it it sounds just like all the other voices around us. No wonder Samuel thought it was Eli. No wonder we think it is a spouse or a friend, or a book we read or a song we heard. No wonder we thought it was indigestion or an impulse to do something really crazy. Because we’ve forgotten how to listen for the voice.

When Eli finally, finally!, figures out what is going on he begins to teach, he begins to mentor. Instead using Samuel as someone to do the grunt work, to clean now ask questions later, he finally begins to introduce him to the source of the voice. He names that source “Lord.” Say “Speak Lord,” says Eli, that’s what you say. That’s the beginning of putting yourself within hearing distance of the Voice. And then, having identified the source, put your self in position, “your servant” the one who follows, the one who obeys, the one who does. “Your servant is listening,” that’s what you say, says Eli. You say, I know who you are, I know who I am, and I want to hear what you have to say. I want to be led, I want to be taught. I want to be claimed, you say.

It isn’t easy, Samuel gets it wrong at first. Speak your servant is listening. Misses the address, missed the identification. But that’s ok, that will come. Because it comes from a servant’s heart. Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.

I got an email and now I have laundry to do. Listen, and follow.

Shalom,
Derek

Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

When I was on Sabbatical several years ago, I happened to be in Dallas Texas looking at churches to learn from, and I happened to drive past an Episcopal church with the banner advertizing an upcoming service called the “U2-charist.” Well, needless to say I was intrigued and changed my Sunday morning plans so that I could join this church for worship.

I have since discovered that this wasn’t unique to that Dallas congregation. There are a number of churches who have set a service of communion to the music of U2. Much like the study series on the old Mayberry television show, the church is often looking to popular culture as a way of connecting faith and life. Much of it seems shallow and desperate, but sometimes it helps us hear the gospel in new ways.

The Irish band U2 has always been upfront about their Christian faith, though many - inside and outside the church - deride them for it. But I have always found their subtle presentation of faith to be captivating. Perhaps, and this seems to be what upsets many inside the faith, it is their uncertainty that is so intriguing. U2 songs seem to be more about questions than about answers. The song reflected in the title of this study epitomizes that best for me. The final verse and chorus reads like this: I believe in the Kingdom Come / Then all the colours will bleed into one / But yes I'm still running / You broke the bonds / You loosed the chains / You carried the cross / And my shame / And my shame / You know I believe it / But I still haven't found / What I'm looking for.

Sort of an “I believe, help my unbelief” kind of theme. Where many of us live our lives, somewhere between doubt and certainty. Which just might be the oddest way possible to begin a reflection on the Baptism of the Lord.

If you keep up on all things liturgical then you know that the Sunday after Epiphany is the Baptism of the Lord. So, we go from Christmas and all that celebration, to Epiphany (which is on the 12th day of Christmas - hence the song) and the wisemen finding their way to the child, and then we leap forward some 30 years to the baptism of Jesus. The main characters of the story are Jesus (duh) and John the Baptist. And I doubt that you could find a couple of guys more certain about faith and their role in the world than those two. They seemed to radiate faith and confidence. That was part of John’s appeal, I believe. Folks flocked to this wild man from the desert with his questionable sartorial choices and fad diet from an entomologist’s nightmare. There was more than the curiosity factor at work here. There was a longing for certainty. Mark’s version which we year this time, pares down the conversation and the sermon, but the other gospels reflect a man who railed against doubters and the powers of this world that would confuse us. He hands out advice like a man writing a Dear Abby column. He knows what’s what and who is whom. Mark, on the other hand, just gets to the point, he knows his place, the role he is called to play in this drama of salvation and he plays it with passion. Take a look:

Mark 1:4-11 John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5 And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6 Now John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 7 He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. 8 I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit." 9 In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

So, where does all of my musing about uncertainty come from? I can’t read about John without remembering Jesus comments later on, in Matthew and Luke. Jesus says to the people and their fascination with John “What did you go out to see?” (Matt 11:7-15 & Lk 7:25-30) And in both accounts these remarks are occasioned by the questions that came from John when he had been imprisoned and faced certain death. Suddenly even John’s certainty seemed elusive.

What did they go out to see? Someone who knew. Someone who had found what he, and they, were looking for. So John gave it to them, with water and with words. They glimpsed in the gathering of the multitudes (I love the preacher estimate of the size of the crowd in our passage “the whole countryside ... all the people of the city”) That was why they splashed into the river to be baptized by this crazy man. He had something they wanted. He saw what they were looking for.

And he pointed it out. It’s not me, he declared over and over, though they thought it was him. That’s why they kept coming and kneeling and letting the water of his certainty wash over them. But it wasn’t him, it was another, it was that guy. That guy was Jesus, who came to be baptized by John. Not, I believe, because he needed the repentance and the certainty that was on offer. But because he wanted to be present. He wanted to align himself with a move back toward God, a movement toward certainty. And because he wanted to be a memory that would come back to them when the doubts came creeping back in.

Glimpses, that’s what we get. We want certainty, we want to be sure. But we get hints. We get whispers. And yet the baptism of Jesus reminds us that those hints are all around us. Just open your eyes and see and be reminded. See presence in the drops of water that bead up on our glass on a humid day. Because baptism tells us that if this water is a carrier of the Holy Spirit, then any water can be. The water you showered with this morning, the water you drank when you were thirsty after a long hard day, the water you gaze out upon in your favorite rest and renewal place, it is all vibrating with the Spirit. It is all a reminder that you were claimed, that you are a beloved child with whom God is well pleased.

Of course we need reminders of our baptism. It is too much of an event to keep in our hearts all the time. We forget what a transformative moment baptism is. We forget that everything old is torn away, like the heavens were rent apart, as Mark says. We forget that our orientation is from that moment, our new life is claimed in that moment. We forget that what we are looking for, longing for is already ours in that moment. We lose our grip, we forget it even happened. We are still running, we are still looking for what we already have.

Remember your baptism. It isn’t just an empty ritual for Sunday mornings. It is a way of living that keeps our eyes open for the descending doves of the Spirit. It is a choice that we can claim to embrace the possibilities in front of us instead of the doubts within us. It is an opportunity to know that we are loved and claimed and that whatever darkness is hiding away in our past or our hearts need not define us any more. It is a family we’ve entered into, who will run with us as we search for what we are looking for, and who will avoid saying “told you so” when you realize what you are looking for has been with you all the time.

Shalom,
Derek