Some People Do

“Love doesn’t keep a record of complaints.”

1 Corinthians 13:5 (Common English Bible)

Country music artist, Old Dominion, recently released a new song, Some People Do. Co-written with Thomas Rhett, this moody ballad explores how hard it is for most people to change, particularly abandoning unhealthy and hurtful habits. Old Dominion self-identifies this track as very emotional and personal, the story of someone accepting responsibility for behavior that has hurt someone very close to them. Considerably more raw and vulnerable than other songs in Old Dominion’s canon, Some People Do begins, “I know you’re hurt. I know it’s my fault. But I’ve kept ‘I’m sorry’ locked in a vault.” Such honesty is rare today. Perhaps that is because it is scary to admit – without reservation – that we are the one who is wrong. Many people are willing for relationships to remain broken than venture into the scary place of vulnerably; of confessing that all responsibility for the hurt falls on them.

Danya Ruttenberg shares in her spiritual autobiography, Surprised by God: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Religion, that following her parents’ divorce, she was angry with both of them. “I held on to my anger and resentment as tightly as I could, but my need for both of my parents was, it turned out, determined to emerge despite it all.”[i] That is precisely the journey taken by Old Dominion’s song, Some People Do. Love for another is so deep and determined that vulnerability is risked, “Most wouldn’t forgive what I put you through. But I’m here tonight, hoping some people do.” Hope is the dominate note that is struck by this song. Hope for forgiveness. Hope that the one who has been hurt will not keep a record of complaints. Hope for the opportunity for a new beginning.

1 Corinthians 13, often referenced as the “Love Chapter” in the Bible, is commonly read for marriage ceremonies. Certainly the author of these words, the Apostle Paul, would have no objection to his words used in this manner. What would unsettle Paul is how easily they are read and heard with apparently no grasp of the difficult terrain they cover. “Love is patient, love is kind, it isn’t jealous, it doesn’t brag, it isn’t arrogant, it isn’t rude, it doesn’t seek its own advantage, it isn’t irritable, it doesn’t keep a record of complaints, it isn’t happy with injustice, but it is happy with the truth.” The original readers of Paul’s letter will recognize his string of negatives. They are the prevalent qualities that draw from the attitudes and behavior of the Corinthian church. We recognize them as well. Little has changed in the human heart. We find it hard to ignore a slight, indifference, or a hurtful remark. As the song repeats three times, “Most wouldn’t forgive what I put you through.”

Ultimately, Paul appeals to his readers to look away from the wider culture and its negative manner of addressing the wounds caused by another. The hope espoused by this lovely song – the hope for forgiveness – is located in the values that come from Christ, not from the wider culture: “Love puts up with all things, trusts in all things, hopes for all things, endures all things” (verse 7). Some People Do begins with an uncommon honesty of the pain that has been inflicted upon another. And the song recognizes that “words by themselves can’t right all things.” Words often are not enough. Forgiveness requires more. What is required is a new orientation in Jesus Christ by the injured one. It is an orientation that makes possible what most people won’t do – forgive those who seek forgiveness. “Most wouldn’t forgive what I put you through. But I’m here tonight, hoping some people do. I’m hoping some people do.” It is a hope located in the values of Jesus Christ.

Joy,

---

[i] Danya Ruttenberg, Surprised by God: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Religion (Boston: Beacon Press, 2008), 18.

How To Know God Better

“That’s enough! Now know that I am God!”

Psalm 46:10

               A “thin place” is a term that is used to describe a place where the space between heaven and earth grows thin and the sacred and the secular seem to meet. That space can be as unique as one person is to another and does not necessarily need to be a physical space – there are moments in time where the space between heaven and earth seem to diminish. The term comes from Celtic spirituality and the Celtic Christians who were deeply connected to the natural world. They considered every moment of time to be infused with the rich possibility of encountering the sacred. Occasionally, some can identify a particular moment or experience that connects them to particular place in a spiritually rich and satisfying way. For others, there is simply a growing awareness that a particular place consistently envelops them with the unmistakable presence of God. That is my story. And my place is Bryant Park, New York City.

               Earlier this month I took a week of my sabbatical to study and reflect in New York City. Sitting in Bryant Park with my Bible and a collection of sermons by Harry Emerson Fosdick two young women approached me. They were college students and their approach was marked by hesitation and, it seemed, some good measure of fear. They each introduced themselves and asked if I was a resident or visiting the city. It was the requisite small talk they needed to move toward their intended purpose: they then asked, “Do you know God?” That thin veil that separated heaven from Bryant Park tore open and I felt as though I was speaking to angels. After some pleasant conversation they asked if they could pray with me – right there in a place where I have prayed for the City of New York, my church, and my family for nearly twenty years.

               Their question is a good one to ask ourselves from time to time: “Do you know God?” The question was not whether I went to church. It was wise that they didn’t ask that question. Persons who don’t know God may fill any particular church on Sunday morning. Presence in a service of worship only indicates that they know of God. The difference isn’t subtle. How can we enter more penetratingly into the unsearchable riches of a relationship with God?  Is there a pathway toward a larger knowledge of God that results in the experience of a “thin place” where God’s presence is palpable? Psalm 46 shows us the way: “That’s enough! Now know that I am God!” We use a similar variation in our common speech when we advise people to “slow down and smell the roses!” This counsel from the Psalms does not suggest the abandonment of all activity, but the relaxing of our movement from one thing to another on regular occasions to be present with God.

               Life fails to reach its highest potential if strain and stress are persistent. The same is true for increasing in the divine knowledge of God. Life demands that we settle down into a more steady rest for a fruitful relationship with another to flourish. That is true for a relationship with a spouse, our children, and meaningful friendships. It is true for God. Think of it this way. A rubber band, by design, stretches. That is what a rubber band was created to do; that is its function. But stretch a rubber band to far and it breaks. That is descriptive of too many lives among followers of Christ. We are in need of less stretch, less strain, and more rest. Psalm 46 says, “That’s enough!” The knowledge of God begins with releasing the strain of regular activity, moderating the speed of life, and easing down a little to pray, “Make me aware, this moment, of your presence, O God.”

Joy,

Ambition

“Whoever wants to be first among you will be the slave of all, for the human One didn’t come to be served but rather to serve and to give his life to liberate many people.”

Mark 10:44, 45 (Common English Bible)

            Ambition – that restless impulse that continually sets our eyes on more opportunity, more status, and more position – has been common from generation to generation. The love of self and the desire that others notice us is deep-seated in human nature. It may be one of the most elemental and voracious of all human appetites. Even among Jesus’ disciples we see the tightening grip of ambition upon the human psyche, James and John asking Jesus that he grant that they be allowed to sit, one on his right hand and the other on his left. It is careful choreography, competing for prestige and honor as though someone silently request another for a nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize.  It would be difficult to find a man or woman who hasn’t given yield to the desire for more.

            The impulse itself is neither good nor bad. The question is one of intention; is personal ambition driven by the desire for greater contribution or self-elevation? The young woman who works hard on a law degree so she may be useful to under-resourced people in the community has channeled her heart, energy, and intellect for the sake of others. Doctors Without Boarders is staffed with medical doctors who are driven to respond quickly to medical humanitarian emergencies without any thought of personal enrichment. Jesus speaks to a wider and deeper motive of positive contribution in the parable of the talents: those who sought to increase the value of what they have for the sake of someone else pleases God. Those who are handicapped by concern for their own welfare will lose everything.

            The disciples James and John were ambitious for the wrong reason. They were caught in the primitive craving to be seen, respected, and revered regardless of their fitness for the role they requested. They sought to look around and ask, “Who is bigger?” “Who is honored?” “Who has more?” Contribution seems to be absent in their desire to sit on either side of Jesus in God’s Kingdom. There is a convulsive struggle that their personal hunger for importance be satisfied. The problem is a moral one. The pursuit of it corrupts character. The Bible grapples with it on nearly every page. And Jesus had a great deal to say about it.

            Observe Jesus’ reply to the disciples, “Whoever wants to be first among you will be slave of all.” What a reversal of how ambition is understood! Here is a philosophy of life that has personal stature built upon the foundation of humility and contribution. For Jesus, nobody can be great until his or her life is driven by service to another. The highest ambition is not in jockeying for position in the social sphere; the highest ambition is achieved through saying “no” to self for the sake of someone else. Jesus wants the disciples to understand that what ultimately redeems life and provides the deepest meaning is not located in being recognized, served, and honored but contributing to the common good. It is a way of life that redeems from pettiness and offers something more enduring than selfish power.

Joy,

When Anger Is A Virtue

“He (Moses) looked around to make sure no one else was there. Then he killed the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.”

Exodus 2:12 (Common English Bible)

“Looking around at them with anger, deeply grieved at their unyielding hearts, he said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’”

Mark 3:5 (Common English Bible)

               Moses was born during a time of great darkness. A new king was seated in Egypt and he feared the growing strength of the Jewish people. They were a minority people in Egypt and their growing number unsettled the king. So the king resolved to “deal with them.” As a result, the Egyptians organized their military to harass the Jewish people and force them into slave labor. But the more they were oppressed, the more they grew and spread. Pharaoh’s contempt for the Jewish people grew until he looked upon them with disgust and dread. More had to be done to hold this growing, minority population in check. The first chapter of Exodus details the evil that was unleashed by the king: young children would be separated from their parents and the male children would be thrown into the Nile River and drowned.

               Born to Jewish parents, Moses was numbered among those who would suffer the cruelty of Pharaoh’s unsteady and fearful leadership. When his mother saw that Moses was “healthy and beautiful” she hid him from the Egyptian authorities for three months. When she could no longer hide him, she placed her son in a reed basket, sealed it, and placed the child among the reeds at the riverbank. Pharaoh’s daughter came to bathe in the river, found the child, and, moved with compassion, resolved to raise the child as her own. Raised as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, Moses lived a life of ease and privilege in the royal court. Yet, as maturity came on, Moses began to be angry. Perhaps he fought against the anger, this disturbing indignation at the intolerable injustice he saw day after day propagated against the Jewish people – his people! Nonetheless, anger took possession of Moses.

               Pay close attention to the developing narrative here in Exodus - it is when Moses found something to be angry at that he found God. Perhaps Moses’ anger was foolish. It did explode in such grand fashion that he killed the solider that was beating a Hebrew slave. Yet, Moses could no longer watch something so unbearably wrong and not take action. We might imagine the consequences to a pastor today for speaking the truth to power. Moses knew immediately that his response might not have been wise. He sought to cover it up. But intrinsic to this story is that Moses’ anger unleashed the beginning of the real Moses – the Moses portrayed on the silver screen and proclaimed from the pulpit. A quiet Moses would have made little difference, would not have been remembered. Soon, following this explosion of anger, Moses came down from Sinai with the Ten Commandments that have shaken generations. As Henry Emerson Fosdick writes, “His indignation against evil got him somewhere.”[1]

               Each generation presents some incarnation of injustice and evil. Occasionally it is hard to see God when the suffering of the present age presses so profoundly upon our consciousness. Well, perhaps if we permit the present injustice to arouse our indignation we will see God. We will experience God’s nudge to quit our moral apathy, untether our passion for fairness and justice, and in our own response experience something of the holy ground that Moses stood on. When our Lord, Jesus Christ saw a deed of mercy being withheld by some misplaced ceremonial allegiance, he looked around with anger and took action to correct an injustice. Jesus teaches us by his response that, in the face of evil or injustice, we are not Christian if we are not angry. Martin Luther once wrote that it is when he is angry that he preaches well and prays better.

Joy,

---

[1] Harry Emerson Fosdick, What Is Vital In Religion: Sermons on Contemporary Christian Problems, (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1955) 4.

A Christian's Strength

“I can endure all these things through the power of the one who gives me strength.”

Philippians 4:13 (Common English Bible)

            What is so remarkable about these words is that they are spoken by a man in chains. Paul is a prisoner in Rome. In a life dedicated to serving Christ, Paul has endured much – shipwreck, ridicule, hunger, and excruciating poverty. Now he sits in a Roman prison and writes that whatever the circumstances, Paul has learned the secret of inner strength and contentment. Perhaps even more remarkable, Paul lays aside his own needs and concerns to write a deeply personal letter to the Philippians to encourage them in their faith. Despite his imprisonment and impending trial, Paul’s one desire is to share with the church in Philippi that joy and strength does not come from outward circumstances but from an intimate relationship with Jesus. That power is so tremendous and so available that Paul feels he can face anything knowing that nothing can diminish his spirit. His spirit was invulnerable. Paul wants the Philippians to utilize that same power.

            The interesting thing about the New Testament is that we find that same power animating most of the early Christians. A profession of faith in Jesus usually pushed people to the margins of their communities. Families were torn apart – mothers and daughters, fathers and sons no longer in relationship with one another because one or the other decided to become a follower of Jesus. Worship services were conducted in secret and often disrupted by Jewish leaders eager to destroy the Jesus movement. The worst tortures that could be imagined were invented and performed to discourage participation in the new Christian faith. There was every reason for ignoring the swelling growth of the Christian Church, keeping your head down and simply avoiding trouble. Yet, for all the compelling reasons to remain separate from those following Jesus, men and women who risked believing in Jesus made one dominating impression wherever they went, the impression of uncommon power.

            That power has not been withdrawn.             It is not a closely guarded secret. Where men and women continue to take Christ’s attitude of loving others and serving others that same power is unmistakable. What is troubling is that few would say that the Church today impresses the world with the same power as it once did. Somehow those who claim discipleship to Jesus Christ show little evidence of a changed life, a life of uncommon power. Absent in many Christians today is a sense of adequacy for meeting challenge and adversity. Membership and attendance decline of the Christian Church has been tracked and documented for many years now. This has resulted is the publication of resources to perfect the church’s hospitality, increase the vitality of its worship, and harness the power of technology. However valuable these may be, the most urgent need is for followers of Jesus Christ to get back to that power which is possessed by the daily nurture of a personal fellowship with Jesus.

            Return for a moment to the first two words above, “I can.” Some years ago I was working with a personal trainer. One particular day he had me on my back, bench pressing what seemed to be an incredible weight for me. After pushing the bar above my head several times I did a controlled drop of the bar to my chest. I was depleted. I delivered an eye message to him to remove the bar from my chest. I will never forget his response, “That’s not my bar. You place it back on the upright supports.” Then he did what his training taught him to do. He placed his hands around the bar with my own. That was simply to ensure that I didn’t hurt myself. But the lifting belonged to me. I pushed with everything in me; I summoned all the power I could to lift the bar back onto the supports. As my strength began to fail, he matched the loss of my strength with his own until the bar had returned to rest on the support. Paul writes, “I can, through the power who gives me strength.” If you are depressed or in trouble say, “I can in Him” and you will find God’s strength come alongside your own. If you struggle with passions or addictions that frighten you, or if you feel that you are losing your grip on life, say, “I can in Him” and you will discover an unseen hand on the bar with your own, matching your strength. The Christian’s strength begins with, “I can.”

Joy,

A New Outlook

“In the same way, when we were minors, we were also enslaved by this world’s system. 

But when the fulfillment of the time came, God sent his Son, born through a woman, and born under the Law. This was so he could redeem those under the Law so that we could be adopted.”

Galatians 4:3-5 (Common English Bible)

            Instant Family, a 2018 American comedy film starring Mark Wahlberg and Rose Byrne, weaves a story of a married couple considering the option of adopting a child. The hopeful parents are brought to an adoption fair where they have the opportunity to meet children they may consider adopting. As the story unfolds, the couple becomes foster parents to three siblings, one a teenager – foster care a requirement on the journey towards adoption. As foster parents there are laws that govern the dynamics of the relationship they will have with the children. One such law is that the children’s cell phone cannot be taken away. Although this “new” family initially experiences joy, it doesn’t take long for things to get hectic. Though the movie is a heart-warming comedy, it does grapple honestly with the struggles and difficulties that are a part of any family, particularly with an “instant” family as this one. 

            We were very much like the three children in the movie. The three children were in a foster system with its own regulations and rules and we were in “this world’s system” with laws that made claims upon us. The Apostle Paul writes that we were “enslaved” to the world’s way of looking at things. We are no stranger to how the world sees things; to the values that shape a world outlook on life. The worship of money, the passionate pursuit of success and position, and the desire for comforts found in ease, food and drink form the tapestry of a world outlook. Initially, that outlook may not appear to be enslavement. It all seems to be quite attractive, particularly to those who are still striving for them. Yet, with all the promises of happiness with this outlook, those who are honest will confess to a deep-seated dissatisfaction with life. What remains is a hope for something more.

            In the movie, Instant Family, the three children desire something more than foster care with all of its rules, restrictions, and uncertainty. Realizing how much they love and care for the three children, the couple also long for something more, something deeper. Eventually they all gather for a court hearing to decide on the question of adoption. It has been a long, broken road to the court hearing but the three children and the couple all want to become a legal family. Love has gripped each of their hearts. The old system of foster care no longer brought deep satisfaction and joy. The adoption is finalized and the laws that governed foster care fall away. The relationship of the children to their adoptive parents will now be governed by a more generous and gracious dynamic. Each of the five begins the joyous discovery together of what it means to belong to each other.

            In the person of Jesus Christ, our own enslavement to the world and its values has ended. We have been adopted as God’s very own children. It is an adoption that has been secured by a God that desires something more for us, something less restrictive, and more gracious, something less uncertain, and more shaped by family ties. This adoption brings with it a new outlook on life, a new way of seeing things. Creation is the work of a purposeful God. It is not something to be exploited for personal gain but something that is to be managed well that it may be a blessing for all people. The possibilities of human life are no longer limited by our own ingenuity and strength but are expanded by God’s own creative purposes.  Adoption releases us from the pursuit of meaning and happiness in material things and invites us to experience these things in relationships with others and with God.  Those things that are valued by the world cannot satisfy and ultimately lead to brokenness and death. Attention to a relationship with loved ones and God is life and peace.

Joy,

Breakfast with Harry Emerson Fosdick

“I tell you that you are Peter. And I will build my church on this rock. 

The gates of the underworld won’t be able to stand against it.”

Matthew 16:18 (Common English Bible)

            In a recent episode of the television show, Young Sheldon, we see hung on a bedroom wall a poster of Albert Einstein. This particular episode develops as its primary story line Sheldon’s desire to become the next Einstein. Those familiar with the character of Sheldon from the television show, The Big Bang Theory, or this show, Young Sheldon, are quite acquainted with the breath of Sheldon’s intelligence. It often eclipses everyone in Sheldon’s orbit. What is often irritating about Sheldon’s character is his inability to be gracious about his intellectual capacity. Here, in this particular episode, young Sheldon has determined to learn all he can about the one he idolizes. Learning that Einstein was Jewish, it seems reasonable to Sheldon that his journey to become like Einstein must include conversion to the Jewish faith. In one poignant moment, Sheldon is counseled by a Jewish Rabbi that when Sheldon came to the end of his life, God would not ask him why he didn’t become like Albert Einstein. Rather, God would ask Sheldon why wasn’t he Sheldon.

            I am as guilty as young Sheldon. Near my desk is a framed picture of Harry Emerson Fosdick, a great preacher of another generation. I have read Fosdick’s autobiography and a biography of this man who was once called, “the least hated and best loved heretic that ever lived.” Many mornings I enjoy breakfast with one of Fosdick’s 47 books of sermons, biblical studies, and Christian apologetics. His life had sharp parallels to my own; his thinking stretching my thinking, and his writing informing my own reading – and understanding – of the Bible. Often, I place Fosdick quotes in the Sunday morning worship bulletin, and my preaching sparkles with Fosdick insights. A liberal Christian and preacher in those decades of our nation’s history when that was much more dangerous (Ordained in November of 1903, retired in May of 1946), Fosdick has shaped my own theological convictions and reading of the Bible to be more gracious and generous, less narrow and restrictive. Perhaps the critical difference between young Sheldon and me is that I harbor no illusion of becoming another Fosdick.

            Young Sheldon desires to be the next Albert Einstein and I deeply value the ministry of Harry Emerson Fosdick. The danger for both Sheldon and me is that we pay little attention to who God has uniquely created each of us to be. We are not alone. Many people today habitually wish they were someone else, or at the minimum, they wish they could be more like someone else. They wish they could possess qualities which they lack, to be more attractive, or more intelligent, or have a more outgoing personality. Perhaps their longing is simply to claim more courage, more patience, or more talent. The result is always disappointment. As Fosdick once shared from the pulpit, “Nobody can put qualities into us from the outside.”[i]  This lesson from Matthew’s Gospel suggest coming at this dilemma from another angle: claim who God has made us to be, “I tell you that you are Peter!” Jesus tells Peter that there is something already in Peter that is sufficient for planting and building the church.

            This presents both an encouragement and a challenge. It is an encouragement to accept that God has already made us sufficient for the work God has for us. It isn’t necessary to be someone else or to import into our lives qualities we don’t possess. “I tell you that you are Peter.” Jesus is asking Peter to claim that; to claim that God has uniquely and purposefully made Peter to be the man he is. The same is spoken to us through this text. We already possess all God needs for us to be useful. This also presents a challenge. Jesus saw something deep inside Peter that Peter didn’t see. Peter would be a rock, a strong foundation for the church of Jesus Christ. When Peter saw a reflection of himself in the waters of a lake, he saw a man that was temperamental, emotional, and lacking courage. Peter’s challenge was to see what Jesus saw, to reach down deep into himself, claim what Jesus saw, nurture it and make that quality the driving force of his life. It is our business in life to get out of ourselves what is already there; to lay hold of those virtues, and qualities, and passions that lay dormant within. It is then that we realize we don’t need to be anyone else. God’s grand purpose requires exactly who we were created to be.

Joy,

---

[i] Harry Emerson Fosdick, The Hope of the World.  (New York and London: Harper & Brothers, 1933) 186.