Bob Kaylor

No Crying He Makes?

Anglican Bishop of Croydon Nick Baines has taken the traditional Christmas carols to task in a new book--"Why Wish You a Merry Christmas?" (Here's the article). Baines examines the carols for their theological and practical content, trying to separate the sentimentality of the song from the reality of the Gospel narratives. Take "Away in a Manger," for example. Baines writes:

"I always find it a slightly bizarre sight when I see parents and grandparents at a nativity play singing Away in a Manger as if it actually related to reality. I can understand the little children being quite taken with the sort of baby of whom it can be said 'no crying he makes', but how can any adult sing this without embarrassment? I think there are two problems here: first, it is normal for babies to cry and there is probably something wrong if they don't; secondly, are we really to believe that a crying baby Jesus should be somehow theologically problematic? Or, to put it more bluntly, is crying supposed to be sinful?"

I get Bishop Baines angst over this. Ask most people how many magi or wise men their were and they'll always say three. The Bible doesn't say how many, or that they were kings (most likely Persian astrologers), but "We Three Kings" plants the familiar image in our heads. Or how about "O Come All Ye Faithful?" Baines points out that it wasn't the faithful, but the faithless who first came to see the newborn king. 

Our nativity scenes already mash together the accounts of Matthew and Luke, with the shepherds and wise men all arriving at the same time so it shouldn't surprise us that our hymnody takes liberties with the text, too. Even people who aren't even marginally Christian know the songs and sing them, never realizing the message behind the text. Says Baines, "If we sing nonsense, is it any surprise that children grow into adults and throw out the tearless baby Jesus with Father Christmas and other fantasy figures?"

I'm always disappointed that people insist on singing Christmas carols during Advent and I find a kindred spirit in Bishop Baines. I know that it's culturally heretical to propose this, but wouldn't it be great if we could overhaul some of the old Christmas songs to make them more theologically correct and less sappy? Instead of always thinking of Jesus sleeping "in heavenly peace," for example, we might remember that, in Matthew's version, the baby and his parents were experiencing anything but peace as they ran toward Egypt to escape Herod's paranoia. 

My personal pet peeve, however, is the third verse of "Away in a Manger" which goes like this:

Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
And take us to heaven, to live with Thee there.

Given the fact that the baby Jesus would grow up to spend most of his time preaching that the kingdom of heaven was coming to earth, this is just plain wrong.

If all this sounds a little Grinch-y, well, just remember that we clergy types make our living by doing a lot of thinking. This is what happens when you start seeing everything through a theological lens. Yes, we'll be singing the traditional carols--even some that I'm not a fan of--on Christmas Eve. But if somebody out there could do us the favor of writing some good Advent hymns, we preachers would be eternally grateful!

Or, barring that, we could at least borrow some Advent words from Tom Petty: "The waiting is the hardest part."

"Oh, yes we need a little Advent, right this very minute"

When I was a kid I used to love all those animated Christmas specials that came on every year--you know, those Rankin-Bass stop action ones like Rudolph and other classics like Frosty the Snowman and, of course, A Charlie Brown Christmas. I remember my mom circling them all in the TV Guide and making us hot chocolate to sip while we sat by the glow of the tree lights and marveled at these sure signs that Christmas was just around the corner.

If you were paying attention, though, you'd notice that there was a thematic thread that ran through just about every one of these shows--the idea that Christmas was somehow about to be prevented from coming. "Christmas" was defined, of course, by the arrival of Santa at a given home to provide the precisely perfect present for happy girls and boys. The plot of your average Christmas special was based around the idea that some defective reindeer or misguided elf or evil villain was keeping Santa from making his rounds. No Santa, no Christmas.

Nowadays, after 15 years of ministry and as many Christmases, sometimes I find myself wishing that Christmas wouldn't come for once--or at least the thing that Christmas has become. For example, I find myself no longer seeing the Grinch as a villain but as a kindred spirit. After all, the dude just wanted to have some peace and quiet on Mount Crumpet away from all the hooting in Whoville.

I remember my first Christmas Eve as a freshly minted pastor. Having delivered what I thought was a homiletical masterpiece to a packed house I stood at the door to wish folks a happy Christmas on their way out when one of the church members stormed up to me not looking jolly at all. I stuck out my hand. "Merry Christmas!" I said. 

"Forget it," he said with a scowl. "You ruined my Christmas!"

I thought through the service and all the possible theological and/or cultural gaffes I could have made. I didn't even trash the idea of Santa, which I am wont to do. "How did I ruin your Christmas?" I asked.

"We didn't sing the First Noel as the second hymn," he said. "Without that, it's just not Christmas." With that, he stormed out into the night.

What do you know? I had actually kept Christmas from coming! I had become the Grinch!

I thought of that tonight as I picked up my phone messages tonight and had one from an irate person who was letting me have it about our Christmas worship schedule and a few other things. Didn't upset me too much, though. I've become used to this kind of thing every Christmas season. For many people, all their expectations, hopes, fears and grudges are bound up in whether their Christmas comes in the right way--a way that only they can define. I, and my clergy peers, are often cast in the role of Grinch for these folks because we kept their Christmas from coming, even when we didn't do it on purpose. 

I have come to feel a lot of compassion for these folks because I know that they are hurting in some way. There's something about the holiday that just brings up a whole lot of pain and loss for some folks in the midst of all that joy to the world and peace on earth stuff. Some people get madder at God during this time, too, so it's no wonder they'd lash out at their pastor, who represents God at least by association. It comes with the territory and I expect it. I empathize because I know that my own losses are also magnified at Christmas. Every time I watch my kids open their presents, for example, I feel a mixture of joy for them but also deep sadness that their grandmother, my mom, never got to see them or watch them open their presents. Every Christmas since I was 14, the year that she died, I feel her loss.

But I think there's a way to at least help folks journey through this time. What works for me? Focusing on Advent--the getting ready part of Christmas. Advent gives us a time to slow down, time to disengage from all the hoopla. Advent is supposed to be four Sundays where we're not yet singing Christmas carols but waiting upon the Lord. Advent is the slow march to Christmas, a time for us to prepare our inward selves to receive the Christ child and to gird ourselves for the time to come. I think if we had a little more Advent, Christmas would be a lot less a time of fear and loathing.

My new tradition is to take a couple of days in the week or two before Christmas to go up to a Trappist monastery for a couple of days and nights to sit in silence, chant with the monks, work on my Christmas Eve sermon and, mostly, to wait upon the Lord. It's a chance to go up on Mount Crumpet not to grouse but to feel grace. I go there because I need a little Advent. I hope you can find some space to have a little Advent, too.

Christmas will always come because Christ always comes. Advent teaches me to wait for him and with him.

A Letter from God

As a pastor I get a lot of interesting junk mail, and occasionally some that really gives me pause. It's interesting, for example, how churches are often the mail target of some random fringe individual who sends out an unsigned multi-page manifesto either warning of the evils of religion or, more often, indicting the church (not just our church, but every church except theirs) for being apostate and warning us to get our act together. I can't imagine how much it costs these people to send out letters to churches all over the country as they usually come first class with a handwritten address but no signature.

I opened one of these this morning with the title in bold, "A Message from The Lord God Almighty." Now, I've often felt the presence of God in prayer and received some guidance from reading Scripture, but I've never known God to use the U.S. Postal Service to get his point across. Then again, this is a God who has used burning bushes, clouds, and graffiti in the past, so I should think God could use the postman if he wanted to (though, at our church there's always the chance that the Lutherans will get it by mistake. Our address is 4501 Hwy 224, theirs is 4051. We get their mail all the time, but we just keep the checks...).

Anyway, this particular warning from the Almighty was addressed "To all church leaders in America who remain silent on the news of this my Day of Judgment" (extra points for not spelling "judgment" with an extra "e"). The text of the letter was full of apocalyptic warnings, spoken in God's first person voice. Specifically:

"Why did I allow you to become a church leader?
Was it not to spread my word and my word alone? Now therefore, I the Lord give you this command: Begin to warn my people now about my Day of Judgment...Begin to show my people how they can survive it, so that they will stand while all around them fall, and the pains of hunger will not touch them.

"Teach them to pray, to increase their obedience to my laws, to pass on this warning to their loved ones, and fearlessly wait."

And then comes the finale:

"If you refuse to warn them about the urgency of my word, I will bring you down in shame, and toss you out of the church. They will watch as you are swept away in the flood of disasters, and I will send you to hell to join the devil and his angels; and you will know that I am the Lord God your Master, the Governor of all the earth."

I usually just toss these things into the recycling bin, but this one struck me today--not because it makes me afraid or because the writer's elevator may not go all the way to the top floor, but because there is some wisdom here that may, indeed, come from God. The Bible does, indeed, talk about the great "Day of the Lord" where God will judge the living and the dead, and we are called as Christian leaders to have a sense of urgency about the present, redeeming the time and offering a message of grace and hope in the midst of a dark world. We do need to be teaching God's word every day.

What the writer fails to realize, however, is that God's judgment is going to be a very good thing, according to the Bible. A God who would not ultimately judge the injustice and violence in creation would ultimately be no God at all, certainly not a good one. God's judgment is what will ultimately, to borrow N.T. Wright's terminology, "set the world to rights." We are to preach judgment not as a point of fear, but as a reason for hope. The world will not always be like it is today, but will one day be filled with God's good and just Kingdom, a new creation that redeems the old.

There's a kernel of truth in every criticism, so I take the writer's point to some degree. But if this were really God writing this, I'm thinking there'd be a whole lot more in there about mercy, compassion, care for the poor and marginalized. Failure to do those things was what always got the Israelites in trouble, and that's the kind of thing that will bring us down "in shame."

I can think of a lot of reasons why God might want to toss me or any my colleagues out of a church. As James  would warn that those who are teachers and preachers of God's word "will be judged with greater strictness." Many are the pastors who have failed to live up to the call to ministry. I fear failing God and my people more than just about anything else I can imagine.

But the good news that's missing here is that even failure isn't fatal. God is a forgiving, restoring God--much more forgiving than we are of others or even ourselves. It's God's steadfast love that I find myself relying on every day, not fear and despair. If there's anything we should urgent about, it's spreading that love around.

My advice to these would-be prophets? Make sure you listen to the whole message God is trying to speak through you before you hit the mailbox!

What did we learn today? What happens in Vegas apparently doesn't stay in Vegas.

"Only Human?"

I was listening to the radio this morning as I drove down to the airport to pick someone up and was interested in all the talk about Tiger Woods’ admitted “transgressions” that have been dominating news coverage while more important issues like the war in Afghanistan and health care reform are pushed a little further from public consciousness.

What intrigued me most , though, was the repeated reference that “he’s only human” or that our sins merely prove that we’re “human.” I find it fascinating theologically because we’re told in Genesis that when God created humans, God created them in his own image, and called that creation “very good.” Being “human” was originally a very good thing, a holy thing. From a biblical perspective, sin doesn’t make us more human, but really less human—less than what we were meant to be. We tend to default to the idea that our sins and transgressions are unavoidable and inevitable because we’re human.

Think of it like a professional wrestling match (this is an odd metaphor, so work with me here). In just about every pro wrestling match, one of the combatants gets thrown across the ring, bounces off the ropes and comes careening back toward a stiff arm slam by his opponent. As he flies across the ring, he appears to be a prisoner of kinetic energy, helpless to stop his inevitable journey toward a face plant on the rebound. But, come on...how many times does this have to happen before the dude just grabs the rope and stops himself? Apparently, professional wrestling buys into the same worldview that most people have about humanity--we are prisoners of the kinetic energy of sin and are helpless to stop ourselves because we're "only human" and destined for the eventual body slam.

But what would happen if we would simply grab the rope? What would happen if we focused on living into our created goodness instead of assuming that sin is simply inevitable? The message of the Bible would seem to be that God wants us to live more fully into our created humanity, rather than seeing it as a life sentence for sinning. We’re not to be “only human” but “fully human,” as Jesus was. Yes, we sin and make mistakes, but we shouldn’t blame our inherent humanity for that. We should be blaming ourselves for the choices we make to be less than God wants us to be.

Our Wesleyan-Methodist heritage addresses this better, I think, than a lot of other theological traditions (I fully realize that strong proponents of original sin and the Reformed doctrine of "total depravity" will disagree with me here). John Wesley believed that it was indeed possible for us to live our lives free from sin, but only if we focused our full attention on growing in the grace and love of God. “Going on to perfection” for Wesley meant becoming perfected in our love for God and others to the exclusion of other loves and temptations. Wesley would never set the bar too low for human behavior, as is popular today, but would call the early Methodists to a higher standard of holiness—living into our full humanity (the term for it is “sanctification”).

Rather than focusing on the frailties of being “only human,” we should use this opportunity to remind ourselves and others that we have been called to be all that God has created us to be, and that we should structure our lives toward that end. We should never settle for less!

Check out Seth Godin's blog post "Watch the Money" at http://sethgodin.typepad.com . He talks about the fact that many non-profit leaders don't give to charity. Reminds me of the stewardship seminar I went to. When the presenter asked how many of the attending pastors tithed, there was a sudden interest in the doughnut table in the hallway.

The Word Became Flesh: A Theology of the Body

A writer named Shelley Jackson published a short story, but it’s not one you’ll find in a magazine or literary collection. To read it, you’ll have to track down 2,095 people around the world and get them all together.

See, Jackson’s story is entitled “Skin” and it’s written – tattooed, actually – on the arms of more than 2,000 volunteers, each of whom has just one word of the story on their bodies. If you want the full story, you have to be one of the participants.

A guy named Rob, for example, has the single lowercase word “back” tattooed on his left wrist. His lit professor, who told him about the project, has the word “pen” tattooed on himself, followed by a question mark.

Jackson calls her project a “mortal work of art” and was the first to get her tattoo, the story’s title, on the underside of her wrist. Interestingly, she had no trouble getting enough people to volunteer to get marked with the story – people from dozens of countries, from Japan to Jordan have taken all the words.

And these are people who have been permanently marked with a story – forever part of it.

Now is this a bit strange? Sure. But think about it – it’s actually quite an intriguing metaphor for us as we come to the First Sunday of Advent.

We read the gospel of John that tells us that, in Jesus, the “word became flesh”  - God’s ultimate Word written on the life, death and resurrection of Christ.

We call this the “incarnation”—the amazing fact that God became embodied in Christ, just as we are embodied. It’s an amazing thing, really, that God would do such a thing. We think of God as being “spiritual,” and that our bodies are mainly just vehicles to carry our souls around.

But that’s because we’ve been influenced so much by the philosophy of Plato, who is credited with the idea of soul-body dualism. When we read the Scriptures and, particularly the letters of Paul, we see that early Christian view of the body was much more cohesive—that personhood was lived out in an embodied, practical way rather than in an ethereal one. God is embodied in Jesus, says Paul, but God is also embodied in us. Our bodies are Temples of the Holy Spirit, and we present our bodies as an act of worship. It’s not just what we think or feel that matters for faith, but what we do with our bodies. God created us with bodies and wants to work through our bodies to do the work of renewing God’s good creation.

There’s a story from Anne Lamott’s novel “The Blue Shoe” about a girl named Mattie, who was afraid of the dark and had trouble sleeping. “But God’s with you, comforting you and protecting you” said her mother.

“But I need someone with skin on” the little girl said.

This is who Mattie wanted, writes Lamott. God with skin on, someone who would show up and listen, and bring you a glass of water when you were thirsty.

Jesus was God with skin on, God’s Word written on human flesh. As followers of Jesus, we, too, are to be God’s people on whom God’s word is written. The word of God, the story of Christ, is carried around by people like you and me – walking, talking, breathing human beings who are marked with his name, his love, his grace.

But not only are we bodies individually indwelt with the Spirit of God, we are also together a Body – the Body of Christ. Each of us has a role, a function, like members of the body. Baptism is a real expression of that holy mystery – a “marking” if you will of each of us as being members of the body of Christ – a sign that we are incorporated into the awesome story that God is continuing to weave – a sign that each of us, individually and collectively, is a “mortal work of art” on whom God’s word is written.

But we also must remember that God’s word is written on us so that we can be read by others. When Jackson’s volunteers run into a store or meet people on the street, everyone can see their mark – ask questions, want to know the story. The same is true for us who are baptized and called by God – as Paul said to the Corinthians, “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. ^3 You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.” 

When people meet us, they should understand that we are part of the story, a letter written from God to all of humanity – a story of good news, a story of mystery, a story that continues.

Truth is that you and I are the only gospel that some people will ever read. Everything we do, everything we say, speaks powerfully of who we are and whose we are. They are watching how we live out our faith in what we do with our bodies.

The body-soul dualism that has been so popular for so long in the Western world gets us into trouble, because it creates a dualism of action, too. We can say one thing and do another. In order for us to change, we need to embody our beliefs.

As someone once said, “What you are speaks so loudly that I can’t hear a word that you’re saying.”

Is the gospel word being lived out in our skin?

When people encounter us are they reading a message of acceptance or rejection? Inclusion or exclusion? Hospitality or hostility?

You’ve got a hard day ahead at work and you just had a disagreement with your spouse. As you go to work, what word is tattooed on you?

You’re in a restaurant and you short the wait staff on a tip. What word is tattooed on you?

You’re at your kid’s soccer game and the coach isn’t giving your kid enough playing time. What word is tattooed on you?

See, with every action, every word, we are showing forth an open book about the reality of the gospel – whether we believe it or not, whether we live it or not. It’s important for us to get real and start seeing our lives as “God’s letter” to the rest of the world.

There is a proverb about a spiritual master who spoke at a public meeting. All questions at the public meeting that day were about life beyond the grave. The Master only laughed and did not give a single answer. To his disciples, who demanded to know the reason for his evasiveness, he later said, “Have you observed that it is precisely those who do not know what to do with this life who want another that will last forever?”

“But is there life after death or is there not?” persisted a disciple.

“Is there life before death? That is the question!” said the Master enigmatically.

Living before death will require of us an acceptance of our neighbors. Living before death will require of us an awareness of our links with all living things. Living before death will require of us an appreciation for each moment and for all the wonders of creation that conspired together to give this moment to us. The mystery, says Paul, is that when we see that we are all one body, then we are freed to live now, before death.

As we prepare for the coming of Christ, it’s a great time for us to re-read the story and recommit ourselves to becoming part of it – to be the body of Christ in new and powerful ways, to be the word and transmit the story as we feed the hungry, welcome strangers, care for the sick, and tell the stories of Jesus. We carry the story in our bodies and we join Paul in helping “everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things.” (v. 9)

What word is tattooed on you?

 

Thanksliving: A Meditation for an Interfaith Thanksgiving Service

What a great opportunity we have to be here together with people from so many different faith traditions. That we can all gather here and celebrate together, despite some of the differences in our theology, is a model for the rest of the world, I think, and something to be thankful for in and of itself.

I got thinking this week about some of the things we hold in common as people of faith, and one is that we all have rubrics and rituals, many of them centering on table fellowship. Communion, Passover, all the feasts and festivals of different traditions are all part of who we are.

And while we celebrate differently, there are some common threads about sitting down at the table, which are important especially at Thanksgiving. I found a little essay in the Atlantic Monthly a few years ago by Ian Frazier that I think we can all agree on in the midst of our dining diversity. The Essay is called “Lamentations of the Father” and this section is ‘Laws When at Table” (especially for children)

Laws When at Table

if you are seated in your high chair, or in a chair such as a greater person might use, keep your legs and feet below you as they were. Neither raise up your knees, nor place your feet upon the table, for that is an abomination to me. Yes, even when you have an interesting bandage to show, your feet upon the table are an abomination, and worthy of rebuke.

When you chew your food, keep your mouth closed until you have swallowed, and do not open it to show your brother or your sister what is within; I say to you, do not so, even if your brother or your sister hath done the same to you.

Eat your food only; do not eat that which is not food; neither seize the table between your jaws, nor use the raiment of the table to wipe your lips. I say again to you, do not touch it, but leave it as it is.

And though your stick of carrot does indeed resemble a marker, draw not with it upon the table, even in pretend, for we do not do that, that is why. And though the pieces of broccoli are very like small trees, do not stand them upright to make a forest, because we do not do that, that is why.

Sit just as I have told you, and do not lean to one side or the other, nor slide down until you are nearly slid away. Heed me; for if you sit like that, your hair will go into the gravy. And now behold, even as I have said, it has come to pass.

On Screaming
Do not scream; for it is as if you scream all the time. If you are given a plate on which two foods you do not wish to touch each other are touching each other, your voice rises up even to the ceiling, while you point to the offense with the finger of your right hand; but I say to you, scream not, only remonstrate gently with the server, that the server may correct the fault.

Laws Pertaining to Dessert
For we judge between the plate that is unclean and the plate that is clean, saying first, if the plate is clean, then you shall have dessert.

But of the unclean plate, the laws are these: If you have eaten most of your meat, and two bites of your peas with each bite consisting of not less than three peas each, or in total six peas, eaten where I can see, and you have also eaten enough of your potatoes to fill two forks, both forkfuls eaten where I can see, then you shall have dessert.

But if you eat a lesser number of peas, and yet you eat the potatoes, still you shall not have dessert; and if you eat the peas, yet leave the potatoes uneaten, you shall not have dessert, no, not even a small portion thereof.

And if you try to deceive by moving the potatoes or peas around with a fork, that it may appear you have eaten what you have not, you will fall into iniquity. And I will know, and you shall have no dessert.

Perhaps you’ll want to post these at your house on Thursday. We must not eat turkey while committing iniquity.

What we also have in common tonight are all the things we have, living in the place we do. Most of us will sit at table with family and friends and eat well in a warm house, and we’ll end our meal with our belts a little looser because we’ve overindulged. Then comes the ritual of football, followed by the inevitable rubrics for dieting and exercise.

Another rubric we share has to do with generosity. All of us operate under the principle that to whom much is given, much is required. While the rest of the culture bemoans the scarcity of an economic downturn and tightens its grip on money, we are still called to give, recognizing that we are only stewards of the gifts God has given us. We give because God has given to us, and we share because we recognize that we are blessed.

Not too long ago I read a report that puts our economic crisis into perspective.

For example, just $2200 in assets (not just cash, but assets) per adult puts you household in the top half of the world’s wealthiest people.

To be among the richest 10% of adults in the world, you only need $61,000 in assets.

And if you have $500,000 in assets, you are part of the richest 1% of people in the world.

We live in a place where even if we consider ourselves to be poor, we’re rich in comparison to the rest of the world, where most people live on just $2 a day.

To be a person of faith is to be a thankful person, a generous person, a person who sees abundance where others see scarcity, a person who is focused more on the needs of others than his or her own.

We always hear a lot of talk at Thanksgiving about “counting our blessings,” and we should. We are thankful for the family and friends gathered at table, for a new day, for life, for strength—for a lot of things that are both seen and unseen. As Helen Keller once said, “The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or even touched; they must be felt with the heart." Paul would remind the Corinthians, “We look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal" (2 Corinthians 4:18). We are each thankful tonight because we are all children of God, and all richly blessed by God in so many ways.

But being blessed is only half of the equation. Many of us gathered here tonight share a common ancestor in faith in the person of Abraham, whom God called long ago to be the father of a people through whom God was going to bring about the redemption of the whole creation. In Genesis 12, God tells Abraham, “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you , and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing” (Gen. 12:2).

As children of God, and Abraham’s spiritual offspring, we remember that we, too, have been blessed…so that we will be a blessing.

Tonight I not only encourage you to count your blessings, but also to think deeply about how you will be a blessing. How will you be a blessing to your family? To your coworkers? To the community? To those around us who are in need?

As you gather around the Thanksgiving table, monitoring the six pea minimum law of dessert, I want to encourage you to go around the table and not only ask, “What are you thankful for?” but “How might you be a blessing? How might we as a family bless those around us?”

No matter where we worship on Friday, or Sunday, or whenever—let us together be a blessing to our community and the world!

Born to Run: The Life of the Apostle Paul

Many of you know how much I like to read. I recently got myself an Amazon Kindle—one of those electronic book readers—that enables you to download a book in 60 seconds. This is kind of like crack for clergy. I figured out that I read seven books last month, some of which were for my doctoral program, some for sermon prep, and some just for fun. Right now I’m reading David Halberstam’s riveting book about the Korean War in preparation for my trip to Korea in February as part of my doctoral program.

In a sense I’ve always been like this—always reading and trying out what I read. I read a biography of John Wesley awhile back that said that Wesley’s theology consisted of whatever book he had just read. I find that to be true for me, in some sense. When I was a kid, I read a whole bunch of different stuff on a variety of subjects. And I remember vividly one summer in high school when a friend of mine from church and I decided to read together Jim Fixx’s book “The Complete Book of Running,” which was on the bestseller list at the time (this was like 1979 or so).

So we started running…and we hated it. Now, neither of us was willing to admit that we hated it, so we kept running, shin splints and all. I went so far as to join the track team, but I could only afford high top basketball shoes, so I didn’t run far or fast and quit after the first week. I joined the Army, where I knew I’d have to run, but figured that I’d just tough it out if it meant that I could shoot and blow stuff up. My only day on sick call in ten years in the military came during Basic, when I got shin splints so bad I could hardly walk. They sent me to the hospital, where I got some physical therapy from a very pretty 2^nd Lt. nurse who spent most of the morning moving my leg around…which was nice. She gave me some exercises to do and sent me back to my unit after lunch, with no restrictions on duty…or running—not so nice.

I’ve pretty much hated running since then. Biking, yes, hiking, of course…but for the most part I would rather hike 25 miles with a pack on than run 5 without. I just didn’t like the pain, the sweating, the mental argument in my head over whether I should just stop or not. But mostly the pain.

So I haven’t run very much in the last 18 years or so…that is, until I read another book.

A friend of mine, who is not a runner, told me about a book called Born to Run which is about a tribe of native Mexicans in a remote wilderness area that runs obscene distances wearing nothing but very thin sandals—50 miles being very common for them and a hundred miles or more a clip certainly doable. And they do this…get this…simply because they like to do it. Unbelievable. So I read the book.

The author, Christopher MacDougall, investigated the Tarahumara tribe, along with other ultramarathoners (our own Greg Adams is one), to find the secret to their joy of running. Well, it turns out that one of the reasons they run hundreds of miles—and that most of us think 26 miles is insane—has to do with shoes…or, more correctly, the lack of shoes.

MacDougall uses a big chunk of the book talking about the fact that running shoes actually hurt us and keep us from running the way that our physiology is designed to. We are actually, to quote the title, “Born to Run,” it’s the very technology that we use to ostensibly make us run better than makes us hurt all the more.

MacDougall says that we were born barefoot and that when we walk our feet naturally seek out the most stable surface. The more padding we put under our feet, the harder the foot works to find solid ground and the more stress is put on our joints and muscles. Shoes also keep our toes from splaying naturally, providing balance, and alter our natural gait. Running shoes also keep us from running more upright, which enables us to use our uniquely developed lungs to the fullest capacity and which allows us to run longer distances that any other animal in the world.

Think about it—if you can run six miles on a hot day, you could very likely run down a deer, which can only sprint and can only pant to cool off. We’re the only animals that sweat, which is a natural cooling system. Our natural running gait, too, is actually longer than that of a horse. Ancient hunters could literally run down a deer—and do it barefoot or close to it. We were uniquely made to run.

MacDougall’s conclusion? Run barefoot, or nearly barefoot, and you’ll discover the natural joy of running. He writes, “If running shoes never existed…more people would be running. If more people ran, fewer would be dying of degenerative heart disease, sudden cardiac arrest, hypertension, blocked arteries, diabetes, and most other deadly ailments of the Western world.”

So, I read the book but was still skeptical. Right. I hate running. How would running barefoot make it better? I always chide my kids for chucking their shoes off every time they run outside because, by gum, you’re supposed to wear shoes all the time. But, according to MacDougall, they’re just doing what comes naturally. Hmmm.

Then I saw R.J. Guiney one Sunday wearing these shoes, called Five Fingers. They look really, really weird…a slot for every toe. But he swore by them. They’re just enough to protect your feet from the elements, but still allow you to have the sensation and experience of being barefoot. Now, RJ reads a lot, too, so we compared notes on MacDougall’s book and he brought me a sample pair he had to try out. I put them on and Jennifer says they look like “gorilla feet.” But I decide to try running in them, just to prove the theory wrong, you know.

Oh, man. The first day, I ran a mile with no pain, which I usually get in my left knee or my hips. OK, it’s only a mile. Got some weird looks at the field house. But then, a couple of days later, two miles, then three, now I’m up to four and…I like it. I mean, I really like it…like, I actually look forward to a morning run. My stride is shorter but more powerful. I run with my back straighter, so I get more air into my lungs. I can feel my calves and ankles getting stronger. I feel lighter, faster, stronger…I’ve been converted. I have come to love that which I have hated for so long because it came to me in a radically different way.

I thought about that when I read again the story of Saul’s conversion. Here was a guy, after all, who spent much of his life deeply hating the people of “The Way” – the early Christians – and who ran them down at every opportunity. As a zealous Pharisee, Saul believed, as did his compatriots, that this renegade sect of Judaism was threatening their way of life. By not keeping the Law the correct way and by insisting that Jesus was the Messiah, these people were flying in the face of convention and attracting people to a cause that he believed to be dangerously out of step.

And yet, one day there on the road to Damascus, Saul encounters a completely different story that alters his view of reality. The risen Jesus encounters him in person, which means that the story that these early Christians had been telling were true. He really was alive…he really was the Messiah. Saul’s old life of hatred, sprinting after the followers of Jesus, was being turned into a marathon for Christ.

This may be a questionable metaphor, but the equivalent in our day would be if Bin Laden became a Christian missionary. It’s that radical a shift. The thing Saul hated became the thing he loved the most.

Why does Jesus choose Saul for this big task, rather than simply go back to one of the more experienced and reliable disciples? Well, I think there are some good reasons why Saul is his choice.

First, Saul has his foot planted firmly in two worlds. He is a Pharasaic Jew, which means he knows the Law and is well-schooled in Jewish custom and practice. He will be able to frame Christianity within the context of Judaism perhaps better than anyone—an important resume to take into the synagogues in all the cities of the Roman empire.

But Saul is also from Tarsus, in present day Turkey—a Hellenistic city with influences from Greek philosophy and learning. He knows the philosophy and world of the Gentiles to whom he will be called to speak. And, he is a Roman citizen, which is a major deal in the first century world. He probably was born into it because his father was a citizen (likely a merchant who purchased his citizenship). Roman citizenship gave Paul safe passage on Roman roads, and gave him a right to the full protection of Roman law (which non-citizens did not have). Paul would use his citizenship status a couple of times in his travels to help his cause.

So, here we have a man who is highly educated in both the Jewish and Hellenistic worlds, a man who can speak to both worldviews, and, perhaps most importantly, a man with the tenacity to pull off the seemingly impossible mission to which God calls him—a mission that will take him all over the Roman world….a mission that will see great success and bitter disappointment. Paul will gain a hearing in the seats of power, but will also be the victim of a lot of pain…listen to his litany of trials in 2 Corinthians 11:24-29 –

²⁴Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. ²⁵Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, ²⁶I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false brothers. ²⁷I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked. ²⁸Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches. ²⁹Who is weak, and I do not feel weak? Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn?

Why is Paul so driven? Because he had encountered the risen Christ and began to see how the covenant promises he had so long hoped for had come together in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. It was a radical change of heart and mind that sent Paul running all over the Roman world to bring this message. No one was more responsible for Christianity and the message of the Kingdom being spread. We are here today largely because of him.

Paul goes from a persecutor to a runner, which is an image that was also popular in the ancient world. Being from Tarsus, Paul would have known about the games that were often staged throughout the empire, where the athletes competed naked (and barefoot). As Paul writes, you almost get the breathless sense of urgency of one who is racing against time, wanting to bring the good news to as many people as possible…Maybe that’s why running metaphors show up so often in his writing.

I Corinthians 9:24-26 - ²⁴ Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. ²⁵ Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. ²⁶ So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; ²⁷ but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.

Galatians 2:2 – Paul checks his mission with the other apostles, wanting to “make sure that I was not running, or had not run, in vain.”

Philippians 3:14 – I press on to toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.

2 Timothy 4:5 - I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

For Paul, Christianity was a running faith, and he was born to run. And all of us are called to run, too. Oh, maybe not putting on goofy shoes or going barefoot, but certainly to embrace our call to go into our world and tell the good news of Jesus. If we have been “born again” in the waters of baptism, we have also been born to run. As the psalmist says, “How lovely on the mountain are the feet of the messenger who announces peace and brings good news” (Is. 52:7).

When I was a kid I learned a little reminder that goes like this: What do the first three letters of the word “Satan” spell? SAT. And what do the first two letters of the word “God” spell? GO. Which will you follow?

Paul got converted, and started to run, to do the thing that he was born for. Have you every thought, “What was I born for?” How has God uniquely crafted me to do the work of his Kingdom during my life? Who needs to hear the message I can carry? Am I willing to leave behind a cushy life that gives me the illusion of stability, but really causes me pain, and run barefoot on solid ground the race that God has laid before me?

Like Paul, each of us is uniquely crafted and gifted for a Kingdom mission. I want to invite you to experiment with that reality, to try something new, to move outside your comfort zone, to strip off the insulation and touch the earth where God is calling you. Perhaps it’s a new ministry, a volunteer project, an idea you’ve had to help someone…maybe it’s a call to run overseas, or a call to join the race of full-time ministry. Whoever you are, you were born for this. Embrace it! Go with it!

As you read through his letters, I invite you to feel the passion and love behind the words. Paul is my favorite person in the Bible (other than Jesus, of course). Tradition describes him as a scrawny, balding, hook-nosed man with a grating voice and poor eyesight…see, we have a lot in common! But it wasn’t the package, it was the passion that changed the world.

Let us run the race that God has set before us!

 

 

Bishops say UMC needs restructuring (Hallelujah!)

Bishops say UMC needs restructuringRobin Russell, Nov 17, 2009 UMNS FILE PHOTO BY MIKE DUBOSEUnited Methodist bishops say the church needs to lower the average age of its members if it is to survive.By Robin Russell Managing Editor LAKE JUNALUSKA, N.C.—If the United Methodist Church is to survive the 21st century, it will need an overhaul to its structural system. The denomination’s bishops approved some “interventions” at their fall meeting, including working to eliminate the guaranteed appointment for clergy and revamping the format of General Conference, the denomination’s top law-making body. “We don’t know yet what that will look like, but there are steps that will lead us into that conversation,” said Bishop Larry Goodpaster (Charlotte Area). “We see through a glass darkly, but we are turned to the future, to see what God might yet do through the United Methodist Church.” The council’s Call to Action recommendations, drawn up by a steering committee in conjunction with the denomination’s Connectional Table and agency executives, will help “break through the inertia and reignite a movement at the local church level,” Bishop Goodpaster said. A 12-person steering committee, along with an outside consultant, will seek input from clergy and laity across the denomination to assess how church structures are operating, from the council itself to annual conferences and general agencies. A progress report will be given at the council’s spring 2010 meetings and final recommendations will be made that fall. According to the Book of Discipline (Par. 414), bishops are called to lead and oversee the church’s mission, ministry and structure. Bishops said the church’s structure is no longer able to support its mission and ministry, which leaves the denomination in trouble: Its membership has continued to decline over the last 40 years in the U.S. and is increasingly growing older than the national average. “Institutionalism has been embedded in our system,” Bishop Goodpaster said. “We are still trying to fit new wine in wineskins from 40 years ago. The mission is paramount; the mission is everything. Structure follows mission.” Sensing an urgency to their task, bishops even discussed the possibility of a special called session of General Conference—or some other churchwide gathering for “holy conferencing” before 2012—to move more quickly on engaging conversation around the action plan as well as develop a sustainable pension plan. That motion was referred to the bishops’ spring meeting. At Lake Junaluska, bishops agreed to engage in regional conversations to develop a set of standards across the church; work to redesign the church’s leadership development system to give priority to youth and young adults—with the intention of lowering the average age of United Methodists by a decade (the current average in the U.S. is 57); seek to eliminate guaranteed appointment for clergy; and help reorder the structure of the church, including the format and frequency of General Conference, to become more effective in fulfilling the church’s mission. Bishop Grant Hagiya (Seattle Area) said that while the guaranteed appointment system has offered protection for women and ethnic minority clergy who might not otherwise have received an assignment, clergy ultimately need to be deployed based on their fruitfulness. “Our present leadership development system is broken,” Bishop Hagiya said. “Guaranteed appointment will not help us.” And the structure of how and when General Conference meets needs to be evaluated, said Bishop Mary Ann Swenson (Los Angeles Area), because it’s not fiscally possible to continue with its historic pattern. For one thing, she said, though the body’s function is legislative, it has “slipped into governance as well.” What’s more, there’s not a way to respond to needs in between the quadrennial sessions, she added. “General Conferences have become so very political,” Bishop Swenson said. “We need to help shift them toward being missional. Is the four-year cycle appropriate for us? We start over every four years, and that’s a hindrance to moving forward in achieving our mission.” Bishops said reordering the denomination’s structure might mean reducing the number of general agencies, or perhaps the creation of a coordinating denominational office to enhance United Methodist ministries around the world. In other action, bishops also expressed concern over clergy pensions in light of the U.S. economic recession and approved a special task force to respond to the challenges of sustainability. Task force members are Bishops Jonathan Keaton, Scott Jones, Leo Soriano, Clifton Ives, Paul Leeland and Warner Brown. Barbara Boigegrain, top executive of the denomination’s Board of Pension and Health Benefits, said the task force will work on gathering data from 12 annual conferences that have not yet provided financial information on either the affordability of benefits or their financial difficulties, including debt and compensation. “We do not have a financial picture of the annual conferences,” she said. “Often the right information is not collected or is turned in intermittently or not at all. The task force is seeking to get the rest to help us make good decisions. “It’s time to take a measured stance, not a reactive stance. This will help us do that.” rrussell@umr.org Share

via www.umportal.org

Just saw this article from UM Reporter about the latest meeting of the Council of Bishops. Some really great ideas here that probably should have been implemented years ago. I'm encouraged to see our bishops thinking missionally and being willing to significantly change the culture and structure of our denomination. Getting rid of guaranteed appointments for clergy is a key leadership task, as is reducing the number of denominational boards and agencies (which, as it stands currently, is a bloated bureaucracy that sucks up a lot of our apportioned funds).

I have been saying for awhile that United Methodism has drifted farther and farther away from focusing its ministry on the needs of the local church. Missional thinking places emphasis on congregations serving within their local communities to transform them for the Kingdom. If the denomination can become leaner systemically and turn all of its resources toward insuring the best leaders are equipped as to lead churches as missionary outposts within communities, it will be a tectonic shift.

My only concern? That this gets studied to death (UM speak for we don't really want to do it). This is one of the problems that comes with having our primary decision-making being done by committees and conferences. I pray that our bishops will take a firm hand in this and work to the extent of their power and influence to make change happen. There are many of us who have been ready for a long time!