Dear Hate

“God is love, and those who remain in love remain in God and God remains in them.”

1 John 4:16b (Common English Bible)

            Dear Hate is a deeply moving song, written as an epistolary conversation with hared itself, introducing hate as a character “on the news today” and having the capacity to “poison any mind.” Written by Maren Morris, Tom Douglas and David Hodges and performed by Morris and Vince Gill, the song pinpoints the garden – presumably the Garden of Eden from the pages of Genesis – as hate’s origin. The voices of Morris and Gill, supported only by two acoustic guitars, lead the listener along a serpentine path from Selma, Alabama (“you were smiling from that Selma bridge”), to Dallas, Texas ( “when that bullet hit and Jackie cried” ), culminating in New York City ( “You pulled those towers from the sky” ). Yet, hope remains, “But even on our darkest nights, the world keeps spinning ‘round.”

            Hatred’s power, made visible, is answered three times by a confident affirmation, “love’s gonna conquer all.” It is then that the last chorus flips the narrative of hatred’s destructive ambitions to address love as someone who is personal and omnipresent. Though doubt is identified, “Just when I think you’ve given up,” the presence of love becomes unmistakable once again, “You were there in the garden when I ran from your voice. I hear you every morning through the chaos and the noise. You still whisper down through history and echo through these halls.” Love then speaks, “love’s gonna conquer all.”

            Here in 1 John, love’s name is revealed, “God is love.” More, a promise is made. Anyone who clings to love, not as a feeling but as intentional conduct towards others, will discover that they are, in fact, taking-up residence in God and God in them. It is precisely the demonstration of love toward one another, in obedience to Jesus’ example and command, that the reassurance of love’s power over hate becomes unquestioned. By the intentional and active force of love, given freely to others, Christians are able to abide in God and God in them, in a state of mutual indwelling. And it is precisely by this mutual indwelling that we know we are loved and that the very best that hate can summon will not defeat us.

            Dear Hate stands among a growing canon of songs that grapple with hatred – most notably for this writer, Tim McGraw’s Grammy-winning, “Humble and Kind” – and offers a heartening message that love is stronger. Most days, it seems, the news swings the camera toward another appearance of hatred, moving among us at its foulest. All of us fight back tears and struggle with doubt. It is precisely at those moments that Maren Morris and Vince Gill seeks to encourage us with the good news, “love’s gonna conquer all. Gonna conquer all.”

Joy,

Nonconformist

“Don’t be conformed to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you can figure out what God’s will is – what is good and pleasing and mature.”

 Romans 12:2 (Common English Bible)

            Stand Up To Cancer is a division of the Entertainment Industry Foundation, a non-profit committed to mobilizing people and financial resources toward new treatments for those battling cancer in the U.S. and Canada. Their current marketing campaign, Whatever It Takes, invites people to join a growing movement of those willing to “swing for the fences” in seeking new advancements in cancer research that can have a life-changing impact. Implicit in the campaign are two classes of people: one small and one large – those who struggle together to challenge the ravages of cancer and those who stand on the sidelines and watch. It is the difference between those who are organized around a great cause and those who drift through life with no driving passion to participate in anything great.

            The apostle Paul makes the same distinction – a division of people in two classes – here in his letter to the church in Rome. The first class of people is one whose mind and opinions and values are shaped by the world. Uniformity to popular culture extends to dress and manners, speech and thought. They conform to the world and its ways without discerning if participating with everyone else is best for them or even wise. They drift through life as leaves drift down a river. Where life takes them, they go without objection, accommodating to the environment and yielding to social pressures.

            The second class is not shaped by the larger culture; they actively seek to transform the culture through a radical commitment to something larger, something nobler than simply going along. They say No when everyone else is saying Yes. They put character into their environment rather than take their character from the environment. Norms and conventions are challenged and a clarion call is made to strive for something larger than one’s individual life. In these few words of Paul’s letter to the Roman Church, Paul asks that the church pay attention to God and organize it’s life around God’s will.

            To which class do we belong? Is society molding us more than we are molding society? Are we conforming to what the world wants us to become or are we being transformed by paying attention to God and seeking God’s desires for our lives? Paul is seeking nonconformists, people whose lives are organized around a steady conviction that we were created for something more than just going along with the world. Paul invites us to open ourselves to the shaping influence of God and to experience strength in our inner life by God’s active work in our bodies. This is the invitation of Paul when he writes, “be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you can figure out what God’s will is – what is good and pleasing and mature.”

Joy,

Life's Disappointments

The following is from Doug Hood's Heart & Soul, Vol. 2

“I have shown it to you with your own eyes; however, you will not cross over into it.”

Deuteronomy 34:4 (Common English Bible)

     This is a remarkable picture of Moses! He is at the point of death, on a mountaintop, gazing out over the Promised Land, a land for which he led God’s people to possess, pondering God’s Word to him that he himself will never enter the land. A universal truth of life is captured in this tragic moment, a truth that neither the great or small among us escapes; life brings equal capacity to experience joy as well as disappointment. This singular moment of Moses’ life lays hold of our imagination as no other moment in his life does. Life sometimes falls short of what is desired and for which we intended our labors to provide.

     That moment is on the horizon for every one of us – that moment when we realize that our grandest dreams and the greatest desires of our heart may not be realized. Moses wanted to cross over into God’s Promised Land and the apostle Paul urgently wanted to take the gospel to Bithynia. Both were denied. Both their circumstances and own earnest efforts gave Moses and Paul every reason to believe their central purpose and passion in life would be achieved. But what would lie beyond their vision was the disheartening experience of watching their dreams tumble to the ground. “I have shown it to you with your own eyes; however, you will not cross over into it.”

     What are we to make of this? We do not have access to Moses’ inner thoughts as he sat upon that mountain, looking out over the Promised Land. Paul speaks little of his failed ambition to preach in Bithynia. What we do know is that both Moses and Paul had a choice to make. They could look back bitterly, questioning where it all went wrong, angrily regretting that they ever had dreams at all, and this decision producing tears of disappointment. Or, they can hold their heads up in their disappointment and acknowledge that God has blessed their labor, that in their struggle, God’s purposes were advanced and that by God’s power, they did step closer to eternal things.

     Perhaps there is no greater struggle than recognizing again and again that God’s view of success and failure is different from our own. And, it is God’s view, which really matters. Moses and Paul fixed their gaze upon a destination. Yet, what really matters to God is whether at the end of the pilgrimage those God calls have learned patience and humility, and have entered into an utter dependence upon God. Ultimately, the destination is quite a secondary thing. It is the quality of the pilgrimage that matters. We don’t have access to the private thoughts of Moses and Paul as they experienced disappointment. But they were great men of God and great people live their lives for God. I suspect that, at the end of their life, Moses and Paul lifted their gaze beyond failed aspirations and saw God’s smile at a life well lived.

Joy,

Sharing Our Faith Story

Doug Hood is on vacation this week.  

The following is a repeat of a Meditation from his book Heart & Soul: Volume 2.

"Let the redeemed of the Lord say so.”

Psalm 107:2 (New Revised Standard Version)

     Our daily conversations do more than provide a running narrative of our lives; such conversations shape our experiences, practices and life with one another. As we speak, our thoughts and understandings are more deeply formed and clarified. Through speech, we do so much more than transmit information to another. We process that information in a manner that deepens our convictions. When that conversation turns to matters of faith, my friend Thomas Long, brilliantly observes, “When we talk about our faith, we are not merely expressing our beliefs; we are coming more fully and clearly to believe. In short, we are always talking ourselves into being Christian.”¹

     It is uncertain that this is the conviction behind these words from Psalms. What is certain is that God’s people are directed to speak of their faith; are commanded to share their faith story with others. It is the duty of every person of faith. The man or woman who has been “redeemed” by the Lord must become a busy person. They are to be messengers of God’s love and transformative power. It is this kind of witness that captures the interest of ordinary people and wins their verdict. Clergy are expected to speak of holy things. But when ordinary people speak of God the testimony takes hold with arresting strength and considerable surprise.

     But, argues Tom Long, such conversation serves a sacred interest. Speaking with another person about our faith confirms experience; it sustains it and enriches it. Any experience which is denied expression speedily fades away, such as a second language that is never used. The loss may be imperceptible at first but, over time, more and more is lost until little remains. Yet, when voice is given to matters of faith, faith quickens and is given strength. A powerful dynamic is released: as we take hold of our faith, our faith takes hold of us. Doubts melt away like mist when we go public with our testimony of what God has done for us.

     The Bible is filled with miracle stories. They are the stories that shape the contours of our faith and reveal God to us; stories that bear witness to God’s power. But they are not the stories that are the most vital for living a transformed and transfigured life. The miracle that is most vital, that is most urgent today, is not the miracle that is read about but the one that walks about in every believer who gives confession of their belief. The Lord says, “Let the redeemed of the Lord say so.” That is the Lord’s command. The world is waiting for our obedience.

Joy,

  ____________________

¹Thomas G. Long, Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2004), 7.

Hesitant Believers

“At that the boy’s father cried out, ‘I have faith; help my lack of faith!’”

Mark 9:24 (Common English Bible)

            The boy’s father cried out, “I have faith; help my lack of faith!” His cry is our cry. We live in an anxious time. Natural disasters, terrorist activity, and anger unleashed in the midst of shifting cultural values have brought uncertainty and fear. We may profess faith in God but that faith is hesitant, uncertain, and unsatisfactory. The forces of evil, destruction, and pain can do that; diminish a steady and certain faith in the presence and activity of a loving God. Faith may remain but it isn’t the robust faith we desire. Mixed with our faith is a good measure of doubt: “help my lack of faith!”

            This father’s son is possessed with a destructive spirit. Since an early age, this spirit has thrown the boy into a fire and into bodies of water with one intention: to kill him. The Bible doesn’t tell us how many years this has been going on but the father has now exhausted all hope for his son. Hope extinguished is reflected in the father’s question to Jesus: “If you can do anything.” It is a frail request. It is what anyone who has nearly given-up would ask. In modern parlance, it is a resignation to, “What can it hurt to ask Jesus to help.” The father has moved way past desperation.

            It is then that the arch of the story shifts. Jesus confidently answers, “All things are possible for the one who has faith.” The father finds that he stands before a faith so glorious and strong, a faith that has sufficient resources to meet any need, that his prayer grows larger. Certainly, the father’s desire for his son’s wholeness remains. But suddenly present is something more. The father seeks to possess the faith he sees in Jesus, “help my lack of faith!” How many of us are represented by that father’s plea?

            Each of us has felt the desire to find within our faith the resources to counterbalance the tumult of the world. These are desperate days we are living through. And as one tragedy follows another, we grow weary. Jesus does heal the father’s son. And when the disciples ask how, Jesus simply answers, “Throwing this kind of spirit out requires prayer.” Apparently, Jesus speaks of something more than perfunctory prayers offered before a meeting, a meal, or bedtime. If we wish to be glorious believers who call upon uncommon powers, we will fulfill the conditions of a more thoughtful, robust life of communion with God. This is a deeper prayer life than many of us have ever known.

Joy,

Meditation

The following is a Meditation written by Doug Hood's son,

 Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University.

The Lord said, “Go out and stand at the mountain before the Lord. The Lord is passing by.” 

A very strong wind tore through the mountains and broke apart the stones before the Lord. 

But the Lord wasn’t in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake. 

But the Lord wasn’t in the earthquake. After the earthquake, there was a fire. 

But the Lord wasn’t in the fire. After the fire, there was a sound. Thin. Quiet. 

When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his coat. He went out and stood at the cave’s entrance. 

A voice came to him and said, “Why are you here, Elijah?”

(1 Kings 19: 11-13 Common English Bible)

     God had won. His fire had come down from the heavens and devoured the sacrifices of grain and meat, scorching the very alter to ashes. The 450 prophets of Baal who had desecrated his temple with pagan worship and idols had failed to summon their god, and in the face of the God of Israel’s majesty were seized and slaughtered on the spot. We don’t know how many witnessed this miracle orchestrated by the prophet Elijah on Mount Carmel, but all who did were amazed. All fell on their faces and worshipped the God of Abraham and Isaac. Among them was the wicked king Ahab, the very king who had welcomed the prophets of Baal. For a moment sanctity seemed to be restored to the throne of David, and Elijah rushed to the then-capital city of Jezreel in triumph.

     But it was in this greatest moment of victory that Elijah experienced one of his greatest moments of defeat. Unmoved by her husband’s recounting of the miracle, queen Jezebel threatened to have Elijah executed, forcing him into exile in the wilderness. And if we pay close attention to the text, we see that nobody tried to stop or help him, not even those who had seen the Lord’s fire with their own eyes.

     After fleeing over 250 miles south of Jezreel, an exhausted Elijah hides in a cave on Mount Horeb—the same mountain upon which Moses received the Ten Commandments. After spending the night, the Lord arrives and asks what he was doing there. Elijah explodes in panicked fury: he’s hiding for his life! Despite all his work, despite the prophecies and warnings, despite the miracles and wonders, the Israelites haven’t repented of their wickedness and now seek his life! He has, in short, done everything right. How can he be repaid like this?

     What follows is one of the most famous theophanies—or physical appearances of God—in the Old Testament. God calls Elijah to come outside the cave and stand before him. But before Elijah can, three calamities wrack Mount Horeb: a calamitous wind, an earthquake, and a fire. And yet, the Lord was not in them. Pay very close attention to the language being used here. Before Elijah’s eyes three earth-shattering, world-ending cataclysms erupted. And yet the Lord was not in them. As Terence E. Fretheim points out in his commentary on First and Second Kings, the pagans believed that Baal manifested in such disasters; he was “in” them. But these pass “before” the God of Elijah’s fathers. He is absent from their ravages and destructions, absent from the despair they cast and the ruination they bring. Only then does a soft, quiet sound come. Only then does Elijah wrap his face in acknowledgment of being in the presence of the one true God. Only then does God speak to him again, asking him the same simple question. Why are you here, Elijah? You still have so much work to do.

     One of the most common misconceptions Christians share is that faith in God is some kind of shield that protects one from tragedies and disasters. But they happen every day, even to the most sincere and devout followers. Jobs and opportunities are lost. Friends and family succumb to disease and accidents. Storms rage and devastate entire seaboards. What we must not do is mistake these things as righteous retribution from a vengeful God. A God concerned with heavy-handed retribution for even the most minor of mistakes would not send his only son to die for us. Ours is not a God who speaks with fire and fury. Ours is one who seeks a relationship with us, one who sees and knows all and loves us in spite of it. What we must do is seek it. And we can start by listening for his gentle voice of reassurance and comfort in our most trying times. Only then can we start to rebuild.

Hurricane Irma

“The Lord is good, a haven in a city of distress. He acknowledges those who take refuge in him.”

Nahum 1:7 (Common English Bible)

            There are times when God seems to go into hiding. So life is tested. With the imminent approach of Hurricane Irma, this seems one of those times. The next few days will be very similar to when gale force winds arose, and waves crashed against the boat of the disciples (Mark 4:37). The boat was swamped, yet Jesus was in the rear of the boat sleeping on a pillow. Like each of us, the disciples were frightened that they would die. They woke him up and said, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re drowning?” No longer are these words on a page of the Bible. We are experiencing the disciples’ fear.

            The difficulty of the disciples – and ours – is that we think that finite men and women can dictate the terms and procedures by which God must govern the universe which God has made. We are unworthy of this attitude and it remains impossible. We are not God nor are God’s thoughts our thoughts. There remains much that we simply cannot understand. These are the times when our faith is stretched and challenged, “Teacher, don’t you care?”

            The prophet Nahum has a word for just such a time, “The Lord is good, a haven in a city of distress. He acknowledges those who take refuge in him.” Here, Nahum acknowledges that there will be periods of distress, anxiety, and alarm. God remains good and a haven, a place to take refuge. The storm may churn and rumble and threaten it’s worst. But God remains near. Because you cannot see God is no reason to suppose God is not there. God made both the light and the darkness. God does not come to us with the dawn and slip out when darkness closes in. Darkness and light are both the same to God.

            Nahum calls us to trust in the Lord. Certainly, God has granted us the acumen to make wise preparations for the care and safety of our families. We are not helpless. But once we have done what we can, we look to God as a place of refuge, a certain help in our time of need. More, as a community called to be the continuing presence of Jesus in the world, we are called to be alert, eyes wide open, to see opportunities to be useful to God as God seeks to care for those who are weak, vulnerable, and in distress. The apostle Paul states it best, “Instead, we are God’s accomplishment, created in Christ Jesus to do good things. God planned for these things to be the way that we live our lives (Ephesians 2:10).

Joy,