A Quote for Ash Wednesday

"There is no deeper pathos in the spiritual life of man [sic] than the cruelty of righteous people. If any one idea dominates the teachings of Jesus, it is his opposition to the self-righteousness of the righteous. The parable spoken unto 'certain which trusted in themselves that they are righteous, and despised others' made the most morally disciplined group of the day, his Pharisees, the object of his criticism. In fact, Jesus seems to have been in perpetual conflict with the good people of his day and ironically justified his consorting with the bad people by the remark that not those who are whole, but those who are sick, are in need of a physician...

The criticism which Jesus leveled at good people had both a religious and moral connotation. They were proud in the sight of God and they were merciless and unforgiving to their fellow-men. Their pride is the basis of their lack of mercy. The unmerciful servant, in Jesus' parable is unforgiving to his fellow-servant in spite of the mercy which he had received from his master.

Forgiving love is a possibility only for those who know that they are not good, who feel themselves in need of a divine mercy, who live in a dimension deeper and higher than that of moral idealism, feel themselves as well as their fellow men convicted of sin by a holy God and know that the difference between the good man and the bad man are insignificant in his sight. St. Paul expresses the logic of this religious feeling in the words:

"With me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of your or of man's judgment: yea, I judge not mine own self. For I know nothing by myself; yet am I not thereby justified: but he that judgeth me is the Lord."

...For this reason the the religious ideal of forgiveness is more profound and more difficult than the rational virtue of tolerance," - Reinhold Niebuhr

Following Christ

If you have any knowledge at all of human nature, you know that those who only admire the truth will, when danger appears, become traitors. The admirer is infatuated with the false security of greatness; but if there is any inconvenience or trouble, he pulls back. Admiring the truth, instead of following it, is just as dubious a fire as the fire of erotic love, which at the turn of the hand can be changed into exactly the opposite, to hate, jealousy, and revenge. Christ, however, never asked for admirers, worshipers, or adherents. He consistently spoke of “followers” and “disciples.” -Soren Kierkegaard

The Plot Thickens

One of the biggest misconceptions about the Bible is the idea that it is a "Book of Rules" or its "Advice for Living". I shudder when I walk into a bookstore and see the "Religion" aisle right next to the "Self-Help" aisle.

The Bible is a story. Its not fiction, but it is a story. Its the story of God's elaborate scheme to save the world. Its the story of how God has and will save you and me. Its a story God invites us to participate in.

There have been many days in my recent life where I feel directionless. As malaise occasionally visits me I think, "what's the point of it all?". The Bible says there is a point to it all. This elaborate scheme to save the world is the point of it all. God has a role for each one of us in the story. This isn't a time to float along and wait for something to happen. This is a time to move the plot along. When I'm bored and directionless its because I've forgotten that each morning is an adventure to see where Jesus is leading us into deeper places of love, truth, compassion, and justice. Each one of us encounters opportunities each day to do something good for the sake of God's creation and God's people. Consider the words of C.S. Lewis,

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.
Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations--these are mortal, and their life is to
ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with,
marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. This does
not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment
must be of the kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between
people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously--no flippancy, no
superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be real and costly love, with
deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinners--no mere
tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment.
Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object
presented to your senses. If he is your Christian neighbour, he is holy in
almost the same way, for in him also Christ vere latitat, the glorifier and the
glorified, Glory Himself, is truly hidden.

I'm feeling a renewed conviction to stop "wasting my time"; to remember that we are on a mission of the utmost importance. The busdriver, the barista, the coworker, the friend, the guy on the corner shouting obscenities-- each one of them is loved by God and each of them like you and I are waiting for the light of God's love to shine in. We need to be saved. We need to be helped.

Christ the Lord is Risen Today

What a celebration! Church this morning was so beautiful. The bells, the choir, the brass, the tulips, the lilies, the tapestries, the butterflies--all to praise our risen Lord. I've always wanted to take some pictures in the sanctuary at North Park Covenant, and I though this would be a good opportunity.


The kids had a quick Easter Egg Hunt on the platform!

The choir sang the Hallelujah Chorus and invited the congregation to come to the front and join in
Multicolored butterflies were a new addition this year

Jesus lives, and so shall I. Death! thy sting is gone forever!

Resurrection

I believe the Easter story not because I can prove it, but because I need it to make sense of everything else. A Poem:

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

-John Updike, Seven Stanzas for Easter

A Year is a Relative Thing

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your Presence?
If I ascend into heaven, you are there;
If I make my bed in the grave, you are there;
If I rise on the wings of the morning
or dwell on the farthest reaches of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me
and the night shall be light about me,"
Even the darkness hides nothing from You,
but the night shines as the day;
the darkness and the light are both alike to You.
-Psalm 139

Tonight marks an entire year since the night we held our daughter for the final time as she breathed her last. Easily, the darkest moment of our lives. Its something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. There are times when people pass away, and though sad, it is a holy moment to honor a life well lived. Many other times, premature death shatters all we know to be good and holy. The night Evie died was a night of bitter loneliness. I did not know where God was.

Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do their Spirits rise up to praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave?
Why do you hide your face from me?
You have taken from me...
Darkness is my only companion
-Psalm 88

In the following days, weeks, and months our friends surrounded us with care. They prayed when we could not. I grasped for faith, and occasionally, caught hold of something. Or perhaps, more accurately, someone got a hold of me. My mind still frequently remembers holding her cold body and wondering where God went. Eventually, I learned where God was. Here...

God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself
-2 Corinthians 5.19

Where was God? He was on the cross, befriending my daughter in his death. God the Father, grieving the grief that we know... that he knows. But that is not the final word.

In bringing many sons and daughters to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through what he suffered... Since children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. -Hebrews 2.10, 14-5

God knows. God cares. More than that, God saves. The love demonstrated in the death and resurrection of Christ means not only that Evie is not alone, but that she and I and all who belong to him will not stay dead. Death has been swallowed up in Victory! Where, O Death, is your Victory? Where, O Death, is your sting? -I Corinthians 15:55

=======

Still, we miss her so much. The passage of time has healed a lot of wounds, but in some ways its painful to think about how long she's been gone. Grief is a curious thing. It ebbs and flows and shows up in unexpected ways. Today has been a mostly good day. We've spent it together just being with one another and also finding some holiday activities to lift our spirits a little bit.

Studies have shown that couples who lose a child might triple their odds of divorce. There might be a few different reasons for this. For one, the inevitable depression that accompanies the loss can put incredible strain on marriage. The adage might also be true that "hurt people, hurt people". While certainly the pain of losing Evie impacted our relationship, remarkably our love for each other has been an incredible source of strength for the battle. We know we need each other. We're blessed to have each other to carry one another. We're also blessed to have such a wonderful community of people who look out for us and have helped us along this last year: both our biological family, our many church families, and friends from all over. We'll never be able to thank you all enough.

The Second Week of Advent

For a variety of reasons, I have been in a fairly significant spiritual "desert" place for the last few weeks. Life's circumstances, frustration, and guilt have taken their toll on my soul. As I felt my soul sinking lower and lower, this morning I was graced with the worship of the Church in Advent season. I have been gifted with some hope.

It was a morning where the hand of providence seemed to conspire circumstances that spoke significantly into my darkness. A time when many things come together from the music, the scripture, the sermon, and even the treasurer giving a stewardship report--all these things combined as the Spirit stirred something inside of me. It was something like this: though the checking account is precariously low, though the future is uncertain, and though my past is marked with pain--the dope is that there is still hope. You don't belong to this world and its vision of life, you belong to Jesus and his Kingdom- a place where money doesn't matter, where power doesn't influence, where status is out of style and all belong and are loved. We who are baptized into Christ have died to the old self and now live a new life. I need to live that new life.

The hours we spend on Sunday Morning in worship are a symbol and a sign that we believe the world is not as it should be. We bend ourselves to a breaking point to see the world beyond ours, to see the world through the eyes of Jesus. To look beyond the chaos and the sin and the tragedy and say, "there is meaning in this!" There is something out there beyond us! Trust, believe, and repent... and together we will wait for God.

So this morning was a time for me to hear the message of two prophets, Isaiah who says, "Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God... He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep," and John the Baptist who cries out for the people to confess their sin, repent, and be baptized. I needed to hear both. To know that God still cares, but also to know that I need to be reborn each and everyday--to put on Christ and live a resurrected life and reject the culture of death that is obsessed with power, status, consumerism, hollow sexuality, and cold hard cash.

Some refreshed hope makes waiting more enjoyable. Happy Advent!

One Year

She would have been 1 today. I'm not sure what to write. Its a tough day for us, but perhaps not as bad as we feared. Surely, there have been and will be tears; but while our hearts ache I think I can also say that I experience some measure of "peace that passes understanding". I've never been "Pollyannaish" about suffering and redemption, I read the bible too much to believe trite sentiments. Sometimes life really sucks. Still, sometimes grace gives you the strength to suffer today in order to see hope tomorrow. We love her and miss her so much, and today is yet another milestone robbed from us by the enemy. But we honor her short life by continuing to live ours. We spent some time away this weekend, just Nicole and I to be by ourselves and to escape. It was nice. We carry grief in our hearts, but also some joy at the privilige to have known and cared for her. We are also glad for the many kind words shared with us already as we face these painful anniversaries. Happy Birthday, Evie.

Children's Heartlink.

The Present Now Will Later be Past

Whatever your politics (I don't intend to start or participate in any kind of debate), its an understatement to say that last night was a moment of incredible historic significance. Dylan's much over quoted song remains stubbornly about the only appropriate thing to say, "The times they are-a changing." The stain of America's original sin is not entirely gone, but 400 years later... the cynics are being shown the door. A black man named Barack Hussein Obama beat the Clinton machine in lilly white Iowa, and then went on to be elected to the highest office in the land. He didn't win in a squeaker, he won outright--he won midwestern states, he won in the mountain west, and he's even won in the old south. This morning columnist Thomas Friedman even went so far to say this, "And so it came to pass that on Nov. 4, 2008, shortly after 11 p.m. Eastern time, the American Civil War ended, as a black man — Barack Hussein Obama — won enough electoral votes to become president of the United States."

Rod Dreher notes the poetic symmetry of history in the new American political landscape:

The modern conservative movement began with the crushing defeat of Arizona Sen. Barry Goldwater in the 1964 presidential race. The modern conservative movement ends with the crushing defeat of Arizona Sen. John McCain -- who took Goldwater's Senate seat upon his retirement -- in the 2008 presidential race.

Modern liberalism began its implosion with riots in Chicago's Grant Park at the 1968 Democratic Convention. Tonight, modern liberalism is reborn at Chicago's Grant Park, where a black Chicago Democrat will celebrate winning the presidency.

Whatever your politics, what lies ahead are great challenges. But we can now say for certain that anything is possible. So that's enough politics for now--let's all just take a deep breath. I plan to have a cup of coffee and do some housework. In the meantime, trust that the universe will unfold as it should--under the watch of our creator.

The Man in the Well

"Faith is not necessarily, or not soon, a resting place. Faith puts you out on a wide river in a little boat, in the fog, in the dark. Even a man of faith knows that we've all got to go through enough to kill us. As a man of faith, I've thought a considerable amount about a friend of mine (imagined, but also real) I call the Man in the Well.

The wooded slopes and hollows hereabouts are strewn with abandoned homesteads, the remains of another kind of world. Most of them by now have no buildings left. Everything about them that would rot has rotted. What you find now in those places when you come upon them are the things that were built of stone: foundations, cellars, chimneys, wells. Sometimes the wells are deep, dug to the bedrock and beyond, and walled with rock laid up without mortar. Those walls, laid underground where there is no freezing and thawing, will last, I guess, almost forever.

Sometimes the well is the only structure remaining, and there will be no visible sign of it. It will be covered with old boards in some stage of decay, green with moss or covered with leaves. It is a perfect trap, and now and then you find that rabbits and groundhogs have blundered in and drowned. A man too could blunder into one.

Imagine a hunter, somebody from a city some distance away, who has a job he doesn't like, and who has come alone out into the country to hunt on a Saturday. It is a beautiful, perfect full day, and the Man feels free. He has left all his constraints and worries and fears behind. Nobody knows where he is. Anybody who wanted to complain or accuse or collect a debt could not find him. The morning that started frosty has grown warm. The sky seems to give its luster to everything in the world. The Man feels strong and fine. His gun lies ready in the crook of his arm, though he really doesn't care whether he finds game or not. He has a sandwich and a candy bar in his coat pocket. And then, not looking where he is going, which is easy enough on such a day, he steps onto the rotten boards that cover one of those old wells, and down he goes.

He disappears suddenly out of the lighted world. He falls so quickly that he doesn't have time even to ask what is happening. He hits water, goes under, comes up, swims, or clings to the wall, inserting his fingers between the rocks. And now, I think, you cannot help imagining the way it would be with him. He looks up and sees how far down he has come. The sky that was so large and reassuring only seconds ago is now just a small blue picture of itself, far away. His first thought is that he is alone, that nobody knows where he is; these two great pleasures that were his freedom have now become his prison, perhaps his tomb. He calls out (for might not somebody chance to be nearby, just as he chanced to fall into the well?) and he hears himself enclosed within the sound of his own calling voice.

How does this story end? Does he save himself? Is he athletic enough, maybe, to get his boots off and climb out, clawing with fingers and toes into the grudging holds between the rocks of the wall? Does he climb up and fall back? Does somebody, in fact, for a wonder, chance to pass nearby and hear him? Does he despair, give up, and drown? Does he, despairing, pray finally the first true prayer of his life?

Listen. There is a light that includes our darkness, a day that shines down even on the clouds. A man of faith believes that the Man in the Well is not lost. He does not believe this easily or without pain, but he believes it. His belief is a kind of knowledge beyond any way of knowing. He believes that the child in the womb is not lost, nor is the man who's work has come to nothing, nor is the old woman forsaken in a nursing home. He believes that those who make their bed in Hell are not lost, or those who dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, or the lame man at Bethesda Pool, or Lazarus in the grave, or those who pray, 'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani.' Have Mercy."

-Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow

Linky Stinky

Some more things that caught my eye this week...

1. The story of a really great dog.
2. A fascinating photography exhibit of some of Chicago's tucked away churches.
3. Rod Dreher on artistry, honesty, and "Christian movies".
4. Michael Bird chimes in on Trinitarian debates.
5. Our friend Becky Eklund recently preached at the executive board meeting of the Covenant church on what it means to be "In it Together".
   

Decisions and Spiritual Reflections

Being in seminary was an experience that surprisingly limited the amount of decisions I had to make. Essentially the life of a seminary student is to show up, do what your professors tell you to do, and try and squeeze in a little sleep now and then. Sure, occasionally you had some life decisions to make carefully, but most of the time you're so busy just trying to stay afloat that you don't have time to consider other alternatives.

Now that I'm living a partway normal life again, I feel the pressures of making right and wrong decisions more clearly now. When prayer, reflection, dialogue, study, and critical thinking are part of you're assigned work--you do it. But now that I'm "free" from the watchful guidance of professors and colleagues, I find myself less and less practicing the art of moral discernment. In my day to day decisions, how do I decide what is right and what is wrong?

I've long believed that Christian life in its most basic principle is that God cares for us, thus we should care what God wants of us. It is that principle which shapes every decision of everyday. But this presupposes a couple things: one being that you believe God cares, and two being that you are willing to let your life be led by another--that you're willing to give up your freedom for the one who "took the nature of a slave... humbled... by becoming obedient to the point of death--even death on a cross!" (Phillipians 2.7-8). Christian life means admitting that you don't have all the answers and that you need someone else to show you the way.

For a Christian, the moral life must first and foremost be shaped not only by the example of Jesus--but by seeking to know Jesus intimately by way of prayer, devotion, and participation in Jesus' family (the Church). Here is where I've run into trouble. Without a disciplined life set up for me in the form of the seminary educational experience, I've found that on my own I've fallen out of practice in some of these things. Prayer life is too inconsistent, I've sometimes now gone weeks between times of good devotional reading and reflection, and since being finished with my internship in Lake Geneva its been hard to fully involve myself in the life of my local church--in fact, in two of the last three weeks I've missed Sunday worship for less than good reasons.

Now as I try and live my moral life I think I've been running and operating on some "moral capital" that I've built up in my life--but that my "tanks" are running a bit low without daily disciplines to know and follow Jesus. I still make the best effort to love and respect everyone, I still try and use my money and time as if they were gifts and not something owed to me, I try and live responsibly towards all. Not always successfully, but I make an honest effort a lot of the time. Yet nowadays, as larger decisions loom on the horizon of what direction our lives will go-- I find myself challenged to ask myself what does Jesus really want from me? Is what Jesus wants from me different from what society tells me is right? Is what Jesus wants different even from what my friends and family might think is right? Read the gospels and one finds that the moral commands of Jesus were often unpopular. The rich young man wants to follow Jesus and proudly admits he keeps all the commandments, but when Jesus tells him to sell everything and give all the money to the poor, the young man can't commit. I'm no different. Why should I think that Jesus expects less of me? All around us the world bombards us with admonition to seek out money, sex, and power. Jesus, on the other hand, invites us to seek out love, faithfulness, and service. That's not a good way to sell cars... or make friends.

When Evie was fighting for her life in the hospital, Nicole and I were prepared to sacrifice everything to give her the chance to live. We loved her and were prepared to do what it takes. The loving character of God is the same way, demonstrated in the loving sacrifice of Christ to give us the chance to live. After Evie died, Nicole and I took the break we needed to begin the healing process of grief and we've been consistent in finding ways to try and enjoy ourselves by taking time to recreate and relax--especially this summer. But at what point do we refocus our energy again to the loving sacrifice we were so prepared to make for Evie, this time for our friend Jesus? Have we crossed a line from "self-care" to "self indulgence"? Its not easy to live a good life right now. I've found vices creeping in more steadily. I have a feeling it not unrelated to the fact that my faith is still somewhat weak and that in the wound I felt at the death of Evie, I have not yet fully placed my trust back in my God. It is like a friendship strained-- you still know this friend and still have affection for them, but things just aren't quite the same between the two of you. In some ways I still struggle to know and love God in light of this tragedy. But I am nowhere near ready to give up. I know God has been patient with me. I ought to return the favor.

Our loving God is not some kind of fuddy-duddy from on high who doesn't want humans to have fun or enjoy themselves. God is for abundant life, God is the giver of good gifts. What God expects of us is that we use his good gifts responsibly-- for the good of both ourselves and others, trusting that the creator knows best where lasting joy and satisfaction are. Its a matter of trusting that lasting joy might exist elsewhere besides indulgence in physical and material pleasures or self-oriented human relationships. One only need look around at the abundance of self-destruction that happens among those who achieve all the money, sex, and power they want to see that lasting joy is not found there. If the good life is not found in such things, then perhaps St. Francis was right, "It is in giving that we receive... it is in dying (to self?) that we are born into eternal life".

Its not always a popular thing to talk about morality and there are a lot of self-righteous people out there who have tainted the discussion. These thoughts aren't about passing judgement on another--but rather an acknowledgement that all of us sinners who dare turn to Jesus have both a welcome embrace of his love but also an invitation to live a radical life of virtue. As Luther said of us who dare preach the gospel, "we're just beggars telling other beggars where to find bread."

Nurturing a good life takes practice: spiritual discipline. Creating daily habbits of charity, justice, faithfulness, self-control, and care will form us into the people who can make good decisions both big and small.

Annual Meeting Reflections

This past week I had the privilege to attend the Annual Meeting of the Evangelical Covenant Church. The annual meeting is the yearly gathering of churches, leaders, and pastors from the denomination. In a supremely democratic church culture as the ECC, the annual meeting of the Covenant church is the highest authoritative body. No pastor, bishop, council, president, administrator, or superintendent has any authority granted them greater than the annual meeting where every church is invited to send delegates to voice and vote on the life of our denomination. In essence, the three-hundred plus people gathered for those three days are "the Pope" of the Covenant.

I did not attend as a delegate. I went because I had the time off, it was only a 3-hour drive, and the historic nature of this particular annual meeting was appealing. I knew it would be a chance to see some old friends as well as get some face time with some important people to further help discern where I might end up serving the church.

For the next six years the annual denominational events are focusing on the Covenant Affirmations, this year is "The Centrality of the Word of God". The first night of the meeting my friend and professor Dr. John Weborg knocked it out of the park with a powerful sermon on the "capital" of scripture--that in the Bible is great, great resource for life and truth that we are far too unfamiliar with. The evening concluded with a celebration of the concluding work of outgoing president Glenn Palmberg. Presenters highlighted a number of Glenn's achievements and contributions to the ECC (presidential seminary scholarships, a new department of Compassion/Mercy/Justice, church growth, Congo missions, etc.). Glenn was rightly praised for his great work on big important projects. But I admire Glenn for another reason. Glenn spoke to us graduating seminarians this spring about earning the trust of the people we serve by faithful service. Glenn had earned my trust in this way. The president of a denomination spends a lot of time with people who have great influence and deep pockets. By comparison, I'm a nobody. Yet though Glenn keeps a busy schedule with important religious leaders, on a cold December night he came down to the small Benson funeral chapel to share his condolences with us after Evie's death. Glenn didn't know me from Adam, but he came anyway with genuine care. He earned my trust. Congratulations Glenn, thanks for your work-- for your faithfulness to things both big and small.

The next day our incoming president was voted in and in a moving ceremony that night Gary Walter was commissioned and anointed by the living former presidents of our church. I think Gary will be a great leader for our denomination. His perspective is a good and needed one, as he was not born into the Covenant tradition but came into it as an outsider--one not raised Christian but converted to the faith. By his story I think he'll have insight as how the Church should engage an increasingly post-Christian world. His inaugural sermon that night was on a text from the Epistle of James, "be doers of the Word" and he highlighted the doings asked of us in scripture as an integrated mission of evangelism, compassion/mercy/justice, and church unity. There are great challenges in our denomination already here and still coming for all three of these arenas. Here's hope and prayer for Gary and all of us who will lead this family of the Christian church.

The annual meeting was sometimes quite boring, but I had the fortune of not being a delegate, so I could skip out on some of the meetings for a round of disk golf or a walk by the lake. I was glad to be there to see many friends, worship alongside sisters and brothers from across the country, and to be a part of looking forward in our collective mission.

Summer in the Greatest City in the World

It's a little presumptuous, but that's how Chicago is frequently referred to by the DJ on one of my local radio stations. Some days I can almost believe it. My summer work requires me to awake at wee early hours to drive downtown before heading out to farmer's markets. Since today is the longest day of the year, it also happens to be one of the earliest sunrises. Having grown up on the west coast I've seen the sun set over the ocean a million times but I've never seen the sun rise over a body of water. Living in Chicago I've never been up early enough to watch it rise over Lake Michigan, and my job wakes me up too early most days for it (about the time he sun actually rises I'm down inside a sub-zero underground freezer). Yet this morning I got to behold the awesome sight. As I drove the expressway towards downtown, early morning light made the northern half of the skyline silhouette while the southern half of the skyline was still in enough dark sky to be illuminated only by the light of office windows. Very cool.

The summer I interned at Lutheran General Hospital I often volunteered for overnight shifts. I remember one particularly long night where six different deaths required some ministry from me. After all the sadness and pain of the evening I went up to the 12th floor caferteria to get some coffee to push through my last 30 minutes on call. I looked out the panoramic window worn down by a night of death but grace gifted me with a vision of hope, the sunrise over the city. Even though many living light's had been extinguished through the night, the sun still rose the next day and each and everyday. Long after I and everyone I love has passed on the sun will still rise each morning. The universe will unfold as it should. We are but a small piece of a larger symphony. The sun rises every morning--that does not change. Mercy is new every morning. Life goes on.

Its a lot like the promise of changing seasons. Long winter has now become welcome summer. Though I spent most of my afternoon stuck in traffic, I got to listen to exciting baseball as the Cubs and Sox played an exciting game ending with a walk off home run. A near perfect 72 degrees meant driving through the city with my windows down. Driving up Lakeshore drive I admired the city's fantastic architecture to my left, and summer fun in Lincoln park to my right... and Lake Michicagan beyond that. When the humidity is not oppressive, summer in Chicago is a lot of fun. There are an abundance of festivals and concerts--many free. For our birthday Nicole and I took advantage of the great ethnic diversity of our city to find some new cuisine to try (Ethiopian food has some charms, but we weren't entirely won over). Still, our city affords us lots of opportunities for adventure. Heck, there's even abundant wildlife! Just today they've found an alligator in the Chicago river. I've heard multiple versions of a North Park legend about a python in the north branch, but this is new. After our recent cougar incident, nothing surprises me.

I'm finding that this "in-between time" of being finished with seminary but not yet placed in ministry is just fine for right now. It's a great time to be in Chicago.

Xenophobia, Cowardice, and Donuts

I've always been fickle about Dunkin Donuts. Here in Chicago they're on almost every block, making them very convinient. Historically their coffee has been very delicious save for recently when it seems to have gotten weaker. Many people are surprised that a lot of DD franchises use Fair Trade beans exclusively. But before I can enjoy a socially responsible self righteous sip, I have to wave my finger at those Styrofoam cups--hardly biodegradable. I should also confess that I find the sausage, egg, and cheese bagel sandwich a calorie packed guilty pleasure. Yet with this new controversy out of bizarro world, I'm pretty disappointed in them.

Apparently Rachel Ray's black and white scarf looks slightly similar to a Palestinian keffiyah. Some loons decided to take offense... so Dunkin' Donuts pulled the ad, for fear that some Americans would be sent into the streets in a pants-wetting panic that someone in a donut ad might be wearing a black and white scarf that looks kindof sortof like something a Palestinian would be wearing. You know, if it wasn't a scarf but was a headdress. And if it had a different pattern...

What exactly is offensive about a scarf? Is it that Rachel Ray has olive skin? (She is Sicilian, not Arab). We don't want someone who marginally resembles a Muslim hawking coffee? Heck, what if she was a Muslim Arab? Do we really think a 30 second TV spot means a victory for Terrorism? That sausage bagel I mentioned earlier... yeah, basically Dunkin Donuts is anathema to Islamic Fundamentalists. This is nothing but xenophobia, irrational fear expressing itself.

A few facts Americans should get straight:

• Barack Obama has an Arab sounding name. He must be Muslim right? He's not. Feel very free to disagree with his politics (I do on a number of issues), but don't perpetuate lies.
  
• In the Bible, the book of Revelation makes no mention of Muslims. The New Testament was written in the first century A.D., Islam was founded in the seventh century A.D.
  
• Most people of Middle Eastern descent in America are Christian--not Muslim.
  

I don't discount the danger of Islamic Fundamentalism in our times. I don't disagree that Islam has a deep disfunction and a faulty worldview. But the truth is that living in the United States we have succumbed to an irrational level of fear that manifests itself in the willingness to trade freedom for "security" and to let prejudice trump sound thoughtfulness. The cholesterol and sugar in your Dunkin Donuts are far more likely to kill you than a suicide bomber.

More than Good Luck

Today is the feast day of Saint Patrick. Its also Holy Week, the week preceding Christ's crucifixion. Holy Week trumps Saints Feast days, that's why most of your local parades and municipal celebrations were moved back this year, because of the early date of Easter. The typical revelry one indulges in on St. Patrick's day is not very consistent with the penitent meditation we should make on Christ's journey to the cross.

Still, I always like to say a little something about St. Patrick on this day. Before it was an excuse for Fratboys to get hammered on green beer, this day celebrated the "Apostle to Ireland". Behind the legendary tales about shamrocks and chasing the snakes out of Ireland there is a fascinating historical figure. Patrick was not actually Irish, he was a Roman-Brit who lived in Britain until he was kidnapped by Irish raiders and became a slave in Ireland. After six years he escaped and returned to Britain, but Patrick then returned to his captors as a missionary. Before Patrick's ministry there, Ireland was an entirely pagan nation. Patrick baptized thousands of new believers, and within a generation the island was nearly completely converted and the practice of slavery was outlawed.

A rich tradition of deep Christian spirituality has come from the Irish, a spirituality steeped in the Triune nature of God and the immanence of God in creation. Here is one of the more popular prayers attributed to Saint Patrick:

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,

Through the belief in the threeness,

Through confession of the oneness

Of the Creator of Creation.

I arise today

Through the strength of Christ's birth with his baptism,

Through the strength of his crucifixion with his burial,

Through the strength of his resurrection with his ascension,

Through the strength of his descent for the judgment of Doom.

I arise today

Through the strength of the love of Cherubim,

In obedience of angels,

In the service of archangels,

In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,

In prayers of patriarchs,

In predictions of prophets,

In preaching of apostles,

In faith of confessors,

In innocence of holy virgins,

In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven:

Light of sun,

Radiance of moon,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of wind,

Depth of sea,

Stability of earth,

Firmness of rock.

I arise today

Through God's strength to pilot me:

God's might to uphold me,

God's wisdom to guide me,

God's eye to look before me,

God's ear to hear me,

God's word to speak for me,

God's hand to guard me,

God's way to lie before me,

God's shield to protect me,

God's host to save me

From snares of devils,

From temptations of vices,

From everyone who shall wish me ill,

Afar and anear,

Alone and in multitude.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,

Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,

Christ on my right, Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in every eye that sees me,

Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,

Through belief in the threeness,

Through confession of the oneness,

Of the Creator of Creation.

Now, Anxious Heart...

This semester I have the privilege of being classmates with Matt again. I decided to audit a class he's taking called "History and Theology of the Covenant Church." Since I'm auditing, I get the benefit of sitting in on lectures without the accompanying homework! One cool thing about the class is that we begin each lecture by singing a hymn and learning some history behind it. I love hymns, and many of these are ones I haven't heard before. I learned a great one that really comforted me today called, "Now, Anxious Heart, Awake from Your Sadness" written by Carl Olof Rosenius and most recently arranged by A. Royce Eckhardt (who incidentally played the organ so beautifully at Evie's memorial service). For those of you who may own the blue Covenant hymnal (It's probably also in previous editions, but I don't know the page number) it's hymn #472.

Now, Anxious Heart, Awake from Your Sadness

Now, anxious heart, awake from your sadness,
have you forgotten the things that remain:
grace and communion, unbroken union
with Christ arisen and ever the same?

Is God not still your heavenly Father,
has Jesus changed since he suffered and died?
Is not the Spirit, pleading and leading,
ever the counselor, helper, and guide?

Are not the saints a trifle confusing,
they speak of joy but great trials endure,
kingdoms possessing, pleading a blessing,
safe in God's keeping but never secure?

So, anxious heart, awake from your sadness,
rise to remember your blessings to claim.
Though skies be clouded and the sun shrouded,
never forget it is there just the same.

Expecting to be Surprised

It's funny, I didn't know Matt had written the previous post about faith issues, yet I felt compelled to write something along those lines today, too! I was prompted to think about some things today after reading a devotional that our friend (and one of Matt's classmates) posted on her blog, bornoriginal.blogspot.com. I want to share it here (I got her permission first, of course!) because it both comforted me and affirmed some of my current thoughts on God.

I never used to think that my faith could be changed by circumstances. God is always the same, regardless of what happens to little old me, right? But then again, I had it pretty good. Now, after losing what was most precious to me, I often ask myself those hard questions: Does God exist? Probably he does, but if he does why didn't he care enough about my family? Or maybe he cares, but isn't as powerful as I thought. These are thoughts I never imagined having (in truth I had never been forced to have them before), but I think just about anyone who encounters sorrow will have to ask these things, whether it be seldom or often. The fact is that right now God is not apparent to me--I don't see him, and I don't feel him. But that doesn't mean he's not there. And I don't expect him to be hidden from me forever. I anticipate that God will reveal himself to me in surprising ways. Just read what Ingrid had to say, if you have a minute, because she puts what I mean into better words than I can:

Chasing Denali

“The Mountain is Not Out.” So say Alaskans of Mt. McKinley (Denali is the native name) when the snow-covered titan lies hidden in the clouds of its own personal weather system, to which it has every right considering its status as the tallest thing on the continent. Such was the case when I was in Denali National Park this September during a visit to my dear friend Katherine. We drove 150 miles to the park through a heavily overcast morning. The tundra slopes lining the highway were rich in fall colors, and I was enjoying the immediate terrain too much to mind the low visibility ahead. Once we were in the park, the clouds started to lift, and by the time we had summited Mt. Healy, a nice little 3,400-footer, we could see mountain ranges all around us, but still no Denali. I became considerably exasperated with the elusive giant for refusing to reveal itself even as the sky cleared everywhere else.

Word has it that Denali is visible only one in four days, and even locals get really excited when the Mountain deigns to permit onlookers. The Mountain will not be taken for granted. This is for me a great deal like faith. Most of my experience of God comes from stories, reflections, and echoes. Only on rare occasions do I meet God in any way more solid than a subliminal nudge. I think that’s a large part of why we create idols. We want something that is tangible, predictable, and safe. God is not subject to our whims, and seldom appears how and when we expect.

This excursion to Denali was only for the day. We were spending the night at a cabin in Talkeetna, a little backwoods town that serves as an outpost for wilderness recreation. We peered between trees and into the sunset the entire drive home, straining for a glimpse. Even from designated viewpoints along the highway there was no sign of the Mountain. One starts to question, if not its existence, at least its magnitude. (What presumptuous creatures we humans are.)

At dusk as we arrived in Talkeetna, the veil dissolved, and there it was in the fading light, towering even from 100 miles away. Wow. The following morning was perfectly clear and we stared awestruck at the Mountain for awhile on our way out of town. It was plainly visible all the way back to Anchorage. Wow again. Breathtaking.

God hears us, calls us, seeks us. And we are to seek him, not merely in order to confirm his existence or to check it off the list of things to do, but because the rumor of his glory compels us through the journey that is life.

God’s unseen presence does not become more or less real with the changes in our lives. We can put distance between ourselves and God, have our senses cluttered with mundane details that obscure His majesty, or get our perspective distorted by mindset and circumstance. Yet He is there. He reveals Himself according to his perfect timing. We can no more discover God at will than roll back the clouds.

“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand. . . . Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place, that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it? . . . Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me, if you know all this.” – Job 38:4,12-13,18

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.” – Hebrews 11:1-2

Author of the Universe, Help us to trust and find comfort in your greatness. Heal our fear and confusion, and teach us peace. Give us the strength to be still and know that you are God when our questions have no answers we can understand. Help us open our hearts to wonder and joy. Amen.

The Short Version

No doubt that since losing Evie we've had some struggles with our faith. We ask ourselves the oft asked question, "how could a good god allow this to happen?" Over time I hope that as I share some of my own theological reflection, it can be a help to others. In any case let me say this, I still believe. I believe, but since the tragedy God has certainly felt distant. What used to be for me a deep sense of his presence is now a feeling of emptiness and loneliness... but it is not unique to me, consider the many characters of scripture who felt the same thing (Psalm 30, Job, Mark 15.34). But because I do not necessarily feel God near me does not mean that I don't believe. The very reason that I've ever believed is that the story of Christ's life, death, and resurrection made me believe that I was loved by God. Thats about as simple as it gets. I could get more elaborate, in reality this explanation is sufficient to me. Jesus proves God's love. I try and live in accordance.

There were plenty of answered and unanswerable questions in my life before Evie died. Now there are more. I live on borrowed faith; the faith of friends, mentors, prophets, apostles, and saints. It never really was just my own faith, but I hope and anticipate that I will "own" more of it again. In the meantime I still try and love God and neighbor, even though both can piss me off. They've shown enough kindness and patience that I can at least return the favor until I get my head back on straight.