Be On Your Way

 "The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? Fill your horn with oil and be on your way;..." 1 Samuel 16:1

This was a tiny portion of the Old Testament reading last Sunday. It leapt off the page as I was reading it early that morning before most were up and moving around. I've talked in the past about grief. It is real and it should not be ignored. We must give ourselves time to face those emotions, to be honest about them, both with ourselves and with others. There is no shame in grief. And there is no shame in how long it might take us to move through it. So let me preface the coming thoughts by saying THAT is not what I'm musing on in this particular post.

In this section of the Old Testament reading, Samuel was still stuck in his expectations of Saul as king of Israel. He was not originally on board with the whole idea of an earthly king for Israel and spoke that to his people pretty honestly. But once Saul became king, he seemed to get on board. As time went on and Saul repeatedly showed Samuel who he was: proud, stubborn, willful... Samuel did not let go - it seems he could not move past Saul's failure. God made it clear that He was moving on - that Saul was not the king He would bless, yet Samuel was not following in step with God's next steps. And here's what we hear: "How long will you mourn?... Fill your horn and be on your way." -- Get on with reality! Not what you want it to be -- What. It. IS.

How often do you find your expectations of others to be a bit unrealistic? How often do you find yourself sitting in a deep sorrow - and truth be told, as you evaluate it, much of that sorrow is rooted in the fact that you are expecting far more from people, or maybe a particular person, than they are able to give - or have even shown a willingness or an interest in giving?

This girl. I do this.

So often.

I've spent the last several years recognizing that I need to lower my expectations of others - yet still find myself there, over and over again. I've also found that part of the reason I do that is because it begins with me -- I place extremely unrealistic expectations on my own self. Yes, there is *some* truth to the adage that people rise to the level of your expectation -- but those expectations must be grounded in reality. A portion of the Serenity Prayer that I had never heard until a few years ago says, "Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it,..." THIS is reality.

There are times that people will fail us in spectacular ways.

There are times that the future we imagined will shatter in to a million tiny, jagged pieces right in front of us. 

There will be times that we simply want what will never happen - others, with their own free will, do not do what we want and they likely never will.

There will be times that we want something, based on our own prejudices or skewed opinions or lack of knowledge, that should not be.

These circumstances, and these people, are not in our control. Ever. So what do we do?

It's okay to grieve the death of that dream, the shattering of that expectation, the confusion of realizing we are wrong. It is good to sit with it and follow it to it's root. If not, it will likely never heal, we will not grow any wiser. 

BUT...

Then what? "Fill your horn with oil and be on your way."

Do what I know to do next. Take the next step. Look at reality as. it. IS. - Not as I would have it to be. 

Facing what IS, what is the wisest next step forward? Then do that.

And keep doing that.

Samuel continued to be puzzled, even has he filled his horn and moved forward. His expectations had to be adjusted and changed on the fly, until he FINALLY saw what God was trying to show him. He stayed open. Flexible. Willing to see past his own expectations and presuppositions. To let God surprise him.

I really believe that when I'm willing to let go of all of that, He will show me things I would never have come up with on my own. Better things.

When I let people be who they've shown themselves to be, we can all move forward in reality - even when that reality may be excruciatingly hard.

I have to let go of what I expect people to be and face what they are.

I have to let go of how I want a particular circumstance to end up going, and face what is actually happening.

God is God. I am not.

So, I'll pick up my horn - and be on my way.

Perplexed

"Perplexed, but not in despair" ~ 2 Cor. 4:8 

I read this early this morning and it was exactly what this often weary, perplexed heart needed. I've spent much of my life wrestling with the need to be certain - about most everything. And while I'm learning to let go of this and rest easier in, "I don't know," I can easily find myself sidetracked when I'm not practicing mindfulness and presence.

• I want to know. 
• I want to fix.
• I want to control.
• I want to understand.
• I want answers.

But here's real life: I do not know. I cannot fix it. I cannot control it. I may never understand. I may never get an answer.

I can tuck-and-roll my way from perplexed to despair in record speed. -- OR -- I can also choose to rest in the perplexity. Perplexity may often not be the final destination, but it also will not be an uncommon space in this life. Being perplexed, confused, filled with doubts, does not mean God is not still faithful and present.

I am not God. None of us are. To think we can fully know Him is hubris. To think we are capable of controlling circumstances or other people is utter foolishness. To constantly strive to be more, and more yet again, is a battle that will ultimately kill us. Yet, we strive, don't we?

I can remain open to learning, to understanding, to the new and previously unknown. I can unclench my fists, open my hands and my heart. Let go. I can choose to speak gently to myself and others as I wait. I can choose hope, even in perplexity.

May it be so.

Perplexed, but not in despair.

Loving My Neighbor

 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Mark 10:36-37)

The one who had mercy - that's the definition of loving our neighbor. It is a love that is active. Practical. Inclusive. It is a love that gives up something of value for the sake of the other. It will consume our time. It will require that we show respect and compassion. It requires looking beyond, and putting aside, differences and instead looking squarely to the humanity, the imago dei, of the other.

Woof. This was a Word for me this morning.

I want "loving my neighbor" to be an abstract, woowoo kind of love that doesn't require much of me other than to "pray for them" -- to talk about them in quiet, concerned tones in my circle of friends at church or in Bible studies or around coffee shop tables -- with folks that are mostly like me. THAT is not love, according to Jesus. 

I want "loving my neighbor" to be spouting "the truth" on social media about them. THAT is not love, according to Jesus.

I want "loving my neighbor" to somehow include laws that dictate and leveraging power that pushes those I disagree with to the margins - or out all together. THAT is not love, according to Jesus.

I want "loving my neighbor" to leave space for casting dispersions, for judgement, for accusation. THAT is not love, according to Jesus.

I've heard my whole life, in bits and pieces, about the age old animosity between Jews and Samaritans and how Jesus was disrupting the status quo by making a Samaritan the hero of the story -- but the edges are always softened when we start looking for ways to make it practical today. It. Was. Radical. To many of His listeners, it was heretical. There was nothing soft-edged or even safe about the way Jesus crafted and told this story.

Who is my Samaritan? Who is your Samaritan? Who is almost beyond redemption in your mind? Whose sin, in my mind (in yours) does Jesus hate the most? THAT'S our neighbor.

Active. Practical. Inclusive. Respectful. Compassionate. Disruptive. Time consuming. Resource consuming. 

THAT is loving our neighbor, according to Jesus.

Learning From Job

I've been reading Job of late. In the past, this has been a tough book for me, but in the last few years, I've grown to appreciate it. As I've read this time, I've spent a little more time sitting with Job in his grief. I suppose just the act of staying alive for enough years will help us to acknowledge the reality of grief and the ways it wrecks us -- and eventually comes for us all. Job did not try to get through this with a lot of positive thinking. He did not look for silver linings. He did not ask for "good vibes only". He did not consider angels getting their wings. He wept. He mourned. He screamed at the heavens. He demanded (though he did not get) answers from God. He walked unimaginable grief out and through with honesty and transparency. And he did not take any crap from his "well-meaning" friends.

I've also spent time listening to what his friends had to say, once they decided that simply being present with Job in his grief was not enough (Spoiler alert: it was enough). They are just packed full of wisdom, aren't they? (*still needing that sarcasm font*). I think one of the things that has always bothered me about this book is just how much of what his friends spout sounds eerily similar to things Christians still spout today when confronted with the trauma and tragedy of others. It is so easy for us to "speak the truth" without stopping to consider that we just might be wrong this time - without stopping to consider that our words are ripping open fresh wounds again and again - without stopping to consider that we are. not. God. 

"Speak the truth in love." -- I cannot even count the number of times I've heard this verse quoted only to be followed by words that do not, in fact, speak or show any love, but are rather an excuse to shut down a conversation or put someone "in their place". I'm quite certain I have been among the numbered guilty. When our words alienate, when they kill conversations and relationships, when they are where curiosity and imagination go to die, when they isolate others rather than bringing them in, we've become "friends of Job" and are truly no friends at all.

I'll stop with words I read today from the lips of Job: If only you would be altogether silent! For you, that would be wisdom. Your maxims are proverbs of ashes; your defenses are defenses of clay.

If only.

What Are We Becoming?

 Dehumanize:

to deprive (someone or something) of human qualities, personality, or dignity: such as:

to subject to inhuman or degrading conditions or treatment

to address or portray in a way that obscures or demeans that person's humanity or individuality

to remove or reduce human involvement or interaction in (something, such as a process or place)

***************************************

Do you see it?

This is what our culture has done. I see it nearly everyday on social media. Choose someone you strongly disagree with and then begin to strip them of human qualities. Name-calling. Mocking. Retribution. War.

I see it in how we view the working poor. How we speak about those experiencing homelessness. How we talk about "those neighborhoods."

I see it in our justice system. The ways we speak about and treat people that have been incarcerated. The ways we DON'T speak of them, essentially forgetting they exist and have human needs. The judgements we presuppose of anyone with a criminal record.

I see it in our policing. There are many, many good men and women in our policing system. I know some of them personally. But far too often, they are trained and/or enculturated to cease thinking of some people as fully human. Beginning generations ago, when forces were formed to capture and return people escaping enslavement and carrying forward, through many generations of determining who is worthy of our compassion and humanity -- and who is not.

 I see it in the ways we excuse, dismiss and justify individual examples, even when they are glaringly obvious - this is also a participation in dehumanization.

• How many individual incidents must we be forced to read about, watch play out on body cams and cell phones, participate in on social media (less deadly at first, perhaps, but the end goal of hatred and dehumanization is no different) before we are brought to our knees? 
• How much do we soak ourselves in it, silently accepting, before we become what we are viewing? 
• How many stories must we read before we advocate for and demand new ways of living with one another and new ways of applying justice? 
• How many times must we punish and scream out for vengeance and retribution before we face that it simply isn't working? 
• How many innocent people, simply living their everyday lives, will we read have been gunned down before we're willing to sit down at tables with people we disagree with and work. it. out? 
• How much can we witness and participate in dehumanizing speech and behavior before we lose our own humanity?
• How many innocent people must we execute?
• How many people must we watch be tried, judged and executed without ever reaching a jail cell?
• How many must die in a jail cell without ever going to trial?
• How many must freeze to death on the street?
• How many of our friends will we silently sit by and watch gleefully mock and ridicule those they disagree with?

How long will it take us to realize that when we strip the humanity - the Imago Dei - from another human being -- from ANY human being, we are stripping ourselves of our own humanity. We become the monsters.

How many and how long?

Who Is My Audience?

I was listening to a podcast as I walked a few days ago that was reviewing a study they had read about how Democrats view Republicans and vice versa. It was such a sad commentary to listen to as it unfolded. There were several questions - things like: Are Democrats trustworthy? Are Republicans humble? -- that kind of thing. And each question was asked to both sides about the opposing party. The answers, unless you're living with your head in the sand, were sad but not surprising. Into the 90th percentile, every single question was answered in the negative about people in the opposing party. All of this renewed some thoughts I've been mulling on for a long time, so I thought I'd attempt to get it written down coherently.

This tendency to view those who disagree with us in the worst possible light is likely just a dark trait of human nature in general, but I strongly believe that social media and 24-hour news cycles and our tendency to live in bubbles with other people mostly like us, have exaggerated it to lethal proportions. It's moved beyond politics (though politics has become an identity that, for many, exceeds every other aspect of their lives), and is part of our theology, our worldviews, our lifestyles -- anything we see as "different" becomes suspect and "those people" eventually vilified.

When I see a quippy meme about the party that least represents me, what face comes into my mind as I read it? As I post it? Am I considering the person I know and love, that I break bread with, that I would literally die for that is a member of that party? Or am I considering the person I do not know, that I cannot personally verify, that exhibits horrific behavior in the cable news cycle? Now consider this... when I post that quippy meme (because it almost always makes us feel better to "stick it" to the other guy), which of those folks do you suppose is reading it? 

If I share posts that are demeaning or just plain mean, (but it'll get applause from those that agree with me), about people I do not agree with, either their politics or theology or lifestyles, am I picturing that person I KNOW or am I picturing the worst example I can find on the internet? And again... who is reading what I've shared? The person I love, that I work with, that sits next to me at lunch, that is watching me from across the sanctuary at church... the person that KNOWS me and knows I know them... that is who is reading what I've shared. Chances are pretty darn slim that Trump or AOC or Greg Locke or Nancy Pelosi are reading what we post. But people we love ARE reading what we post. 

When I approach differences of opinion, of politics, of theology, of justice and societal issues with disdain, with mean sarcasm, with arrogance, I am doing nothing to build bridges or to persuade with kindness and gentleness. I am much more likely to be driving people further away, driving understanding and nuance further from the discourse.

Here's what I'm NOT saying:

I am NOT saying we shouldn't have hard discussions. I am not saying we shouldn't stand up loud and clear for those who are being harmed. I am not saying we shouldn't share important issues and the reasons we feel like they're important to bring into the public discourse. I am not saying that nothing is worth getting riled up about. I am not saying that peace*keeping* is ever the goal. I'm not even saying that our goal should be that we always agree.

Peace*making* is the goal - and that requires dragging some uncomfortable, even ugly things into the light of day so they can be seen for what they are and dealt with. It requires hard, sometimes uncomfortable conversations. But HOW we have those conversations matters. Do we want a conversation or do we just want to shut them down, silence the opposition? This matters as well.

I am saying we need to see people rather than issues as our primary goal. (One of my favorite follows (Carlos Whittaker) says, "Stand with people, not issues." -- this is some truth.) We need to love our neighbor at the same time as we have super hard conversations with them. We must learn to recognize that we are not loving when we "speak the truth" in ways that shut down, demean, isolate. We need to be curious rather than trying to shut people out and down. This leaves people feeling judged, unaccepted and unloved. If this is how we leave people feeling, we can call it love all we want, but it is not love. I recognize that I've been this person at times, that I come on too strong or I become too passionate and run over people rather than engage them curiously. I don't want to be that person. 

 

My goal over the last year or so has been to carefully consider the words I both speak and post. To speak boldly, yes. To speak for justice and reconciliation, yes. To talk about the ways I've changed and why, with honesty and openness. But to never forget the actual people receiving those words and HOW they will be received. To consider whether I am speaking to retaliate, to "stick it" to the other side, to gain applause... or to actually effect better communication and ultimately, healing and change. I know I've failed at times, and likely will again (blood runs hot in my family genetics!), but I pray it is less and less frequent and that when it happens, I'll be humble enough to call myself out and apologize.

Keep in mind who is seeing the words you are writing, sharing and speaking. Jesus might have said something like, "Be careful how you post and share on Facebook and Twitter to be seen and applauded by others like you -- for THAT will be your reward in full."

I Am a Christian

Christian: A follower of Christ. 

One who belongs to Christ. 

One who strives to faithfully study, learn and follow the words and ways of Jesus of Nazareth. 

This word, Christian, has a meaning. 

Christian does not mean American. Or Republican. Or conservative. It does not mean Democrat. Or progressive. I know faithful Christians in ALL these categories. 

I am a Christian. And an American. And an Independent voter. And a Progressive. I have spent long hours studying, praying, discussing and listening on this journey. I have come to exactly none of my convictions lightly or quickly.

• Not for acceptance.
• Not for show. 
• Not because it's easier.
• Not so "the world" would love me more. 
• Not to destroy children or families.
• Not because I hate my country. 
• Not because I hate babies.
• Not because I hate democracy.
• Not because I want to distort history.
• Not because I am mean, or cruel, or deceived, or deluded.

All of these are categorically false, yet I have heard all of these as descriptions of people who would self-describe as Progressive. And not just in the virtual world of fringe extremists. But from people in my actual world, in sermons from folks who, it is clear, have not had a serious conversation with a progressive Christian, people who I know personally and have easy access to asking questions of those they're slandering (and yes, I know this is a strong word, but this is what is happening)... Folks who feel free to demonize without seeking to know or understand the actual people they speak and preach and "meme" against.

I see this tendency on both sides as we continue to push further and further apart, demonizing "the other" with greater and greater glee and self-righteousness. 

I speak of what I know. I lived most of my life in a conservative, Republican, very isolated pond. That is what I know. So I know that many within that group are also doing their best to follow the words and way of Jesus, even when I now deeply disagree with some important conclusions. 

I came to new convictions based on my firm belief that it more faithfully reflects the ways and words of Jesus. (Read that sentence again please. And then again, if you still aren't hearing it.) You do not have to agree with another person's conclusions (obviously), but disagreement does not mean that they are not sincerely held, faithfully thought out, prayed over and studied convictions. Every single "progressive" Christian I know personally defies the descriptions in the above list. Every one.

I am exceedingly thankful for a local community of faithful, committed followers of Christ that also hold, within this group, to a wide variety of political and societel opinions. I am thankful for pastors that lead us to walk together in our differences. I want to remain open and empathetic in a world that is screaming for me to close off, to isolate, to cast dispersions. This community is leading me in that harder but, I believe, more faithful way. We all get it wrong at times. I spent a lifetime of years mostly comfortable in my certainty. I want to spend the rest of my years willing to be somewhat uncomfortable, willing to sit with: "What if I'm wrong?" "What if there is something I need to learn here?"

This mindset, I believe, will more likely keep me kind, hopefully humble, gentle, curious. Love must be the driving force as we wade through this thing together.

I pray that our disagreements would drive us to ask better questions. To be curious. To think more deeply. To draw toward rather than away. To pray rather than disparage. To study rather than assume. To cultivate greater imaginations for what could be. 

This is hard work. Everything in us wants to pull away, to find comfort and safety in "likeness". Likeness will give us a sense of camaraderie. Kinship. Comfortable belonging. Peace-keeping. But it will not bring healing. It will not make for true peace. Or shalom. Or justice. 

I do not know all the answers, but I know these ways we are most prone to choosing will eventually destroy us. I know when we demonize and dehumanize, we are not only hurting others, but we are hurting ourselves as well. When we redefine people and words to fit our arguments, we've cut off any hope of real communication. We must lean into love - with all of its messy unknowns, if we're ever to find healing together.