Bad Movie...Good Line

Just finished watching a really bad movie called "All the Pretty Horses" with Matt Damon as a Texan cowboy who tries to find himself in Mexico and eventually ends up back in Texas after a series of very unfortunate events.

The movie was not good, but one of the final lines redeemed it a little for me,

"Lacey once asked me if I thought God looks out for people. I guess he does. I say he's just about got to. I don't believe we'd make it a day otherwise."

Birthday Grace

I remember going out to dinner when I was a kid for my father's birthday and not understanding why he wouldn't want everyone to sing to him and give him a free dessert, but now I understand. I am 29 and it makes complete sense. I don't want anyone to make a big deal or sing happy birthday. I don't mind people giving me stuff, but I would prefer it without the whole birthday thing.

Why do I care if people celebrate me being another year older? I am not sure, but my hunch is that I don't like being cheered on for something I had nothing to do with. I didn't do anything to get a year older, I didn't do anything to deserve presents or a cake or a special dinner and so I don't want to make a big thing out of it.

This clicked for me and I realized that I don't like my birthday for the same reason I struggle with grace. I don't like the idea of something for nothing. I don't like to be celebrated without accomplishment. The world has convinced me that I need to earn everything that comes to me, yet the gospel, along with everyone wishing me a happy birthday, screams out in celebration for me simply exisiting. Not for anything I have done or am doing, just simply for me being me because I am loved.

A Foot Washing on a Thursday

I cannot remember ever attending a traditional Maunday Thursday service before serving at ours yesterday. I have been to a number of seder dinners and informal gatherings, but never a service in a church with the foot washing up front among people that don't all know each other intimately.

It was a powerful experience. That shouldn't be surprising, but it was. I was blown away by the meaning and depth of that simple experience. I have always prided myself at being very open and okay with being vulnerable or exposed, even around people I don't know too well. Nevertheless, last night I was intimidated by the exposure of having your feet washed by someone you don't know that well.

It was beautiful and incredible and when it was combined with the powerful display of the stripping of the altar I melted. Thank you Lord for loving me. For giving your son for a slave like me.

Out of my Cold, Dead Hand...Munitions and Freedom

I heard a story on NPR last night about a nationwide ammunition shortage. Part of this shortage can be linked to how much is being sent overseas to fight two wars, but there was a more curious reason given by a gun store owner.

Dury, the man being interviewed, claimed that fear from President Obama's liberal and "socialist" agenda is bringing people in droves to gun stores as they stockpile weapons and munitions. Dury said that his sales have gone up 40 or 50% since the day of his election. He can barely keep anything in stock because people are buying new weapons and lifetime supplies of ammunition for them out of fear of possible restrictions and taxes from the current administration (one of the people he sold a case of ammunition was a 79 year old woman who wanted to stock up for her AK-47...I have no idea how much a "lifetime supply" of ammo is for an AK-47).

When asked how sales were the day he was interviewed, the store owner replied that it was, "an average post-Obama day."

These kinds of stories catch my attention because they emphasize the impotence of the law to accomplish what it desires, that even a fear of possible restriction sends people running for the gun racks. There is a certain irony that the desire to legislate a reduction in the number of guns and bullets circulating in America leads directly to the opposite effect. The reality that under President Bush, a gun toting Texan, there were actually fewer weapons in circulation and less of a motivation to stockpile them.

I have rarely, if ever, observed obligation or restriction succeed in establishing a "lawful" environment. This example is only one of many situations where the law has utterly failed to do what it has set out to do (and by law I mean not just legal realities, but any obligation or restriction placed on us by another).

In my short experience in this world I have only found one thing that accomplishes what it sets out to do and that is grace that flows naturally from love. The one-way kind of perfect love that comes from God.

A Word from Bishop Marshall

Here is part of a statement released by Bishop Paul Marshall (Episcopal Diocese of Bethlehem). I feel it is a good statement from the often silent moderate part of our Church:

As a Church we are increasingly a laughing-stock. Not because we welcome lesbian and gay people, and carry on social ministries that enact the sacrifice of Christ on a corporate basis, and certainly not because of our latitude and the conversation it engenders. We are a laughing stock because we do not consistently proclaim a solid core, words as simple as “all have sinned and come short of the glory of God,” yet “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself.”

Increasingly it seems that the Cross has become foolishness in the Church, and our former hallmark teaching of the Incarnation is seldom heard, and less seldom heard to matter. If our embarrassment is going to end, the voices of bishops as clear, traditional, and powerful evangelists need to be raised in the churches and in the market place. Many bishops find a number of techniques that come from the social sciences useful in their ministries, and have significant investment in Eastern meditation—their qualification to be bishops, however, is as the chief confessors of the creeds and presidents at the sacraments. They are to be unambiguously ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through them.

Our Dying Ecclesiology

I have been thinking a lot about church and talking to people who don't go to church. I hear comments like, "Churches are just full of hypocrites," and "I haven't found a church that works for me." These are comments I hear all the time from people who have given up on church and I have to say that it makes me want to give up on church too.

I am wondering if what people are describing is going to church and feeling judged by people who are no different than them. I notice that our churches have incorporated moralism into their DNA in a way that only focuses on part of the law. The sense of hypocrisy comes because churches have eschewed the whole law for a smaller set of "house rules" that everyone has subconsciously agreed to. These "house rules" are simple enough for the in-crowd to follow, but exclude a majority of people who walk through the door.

This is how pharaseeism works out in our churches today. We pick and choose from the law and create not a place for sinners to find comfort and rest, but a place for those who are not-gay, not-liberal, not-conservative, not-divorced, or not-sleeping around. Those who call it home find their own way of putting on the right face and everyone else just goes away angered by the hypocritical institutional church and when it turns out that one of their number is not living up to code, they are shamed until they leave too.

The church becomes a place for similar sinners as opposed to forgiven saints. We no longer need to be forgiven, we only need to continue living up to the local law. Our self-righteousness reigns. In fact, we reject no one more completely than the very savior who tries to tell us we are not righteous by our own merit and that we need help. How else does the Son of God who came and died for us end up becoming simply a "good moral teacher." Moses was a good moral teacher, Jesus was the savior of the world.

The church has to maintain the whole law because everyone who enters must stand condemned together and thus be in need of the same grace. Anything less than the whole law simply excludes some and makes room for others who can live up to some small set of rules. It is the whole law that crushes all equally. Everyone, from Hitler to Mother Teresa, stands in total violation of the whole law. It is inescapable in its crushing totality.

Church can either be a place where we find comfort, grace, and the word of forgiveness and adoption in the death and resurrection of Jesus or it can be a place that reduces the law to an "achievable" level that excludes all but the Pharisees and Scribes who are deluded into thinking they measure up.

Theology of the Body for Beginners: Legalism to LIberty

Since I was first introduced to Pope John Paul II's Theology of the Body as disseminated by Christopher West a few years ago, I have been a big proponent of his teaching on sex and the body. 

It is a shame how little of the Pope's teaching has spread through the Protestant church.  I guess I should not be too surprised considering the immense distrust of all things Roman in most Protestant circles.  If Protestants are honest with themselves, they must admit that we desperately need help when it comes to issues of sexuality and the body.  We have such a poor foundation for these issues.  The entire spectrum of Protestant theology is vapid. From the meager traditional teaching, "'don't have sex before marriage," to the more progressive teaching that seems to have even less to offer, we are floundering in our efforts to communicate solid and encouraging teaching on the body to our children.

To this end, I would like to recommend Christopher West's Theology of the Body for Beginners. It is solid and accessible.  There is plenty you will disagree with, but at least it will give you something to work with, which is more than most of us have. 

The following quote from his introductory chapter sums it all up for me, "[Pope John Paul II's teaching] is a message of sexual healing and redemption, not condemnation. With this compassionate approach-the Gospel approach-John Paul shifts the discussion of sexual morality from legalism to liberty. The legalist asks, "How far can I go before I break the law?" Instead, the Pope asks, "What's the truth about sex that sets me free to love?"

This is the premise of the Pope's extensive theology of the body and I commend it to everyone. It is time to break down some of the walls between the Protestant and Roman traditions.  We have a lot to learn from one another.

Theology of Grace

Here are some brief thoughts concerning a theology of grace over what I have found to be the more commonly accepted theology of grace and law (law being what we are required to do as Christians).  

As I have come to understand it, the scriptures and the tradition of the Church speak to a theology of grace alone by faith alone and this grace and this faith come to us through the mediation of Jesus Christ alone.

This is a difficult teaching for most people because we desire so much to retain some control over our lives.  Once we accept the grace of God through Jesus, we feel the need to go out and do something more.  No matter how much we hear about free grace, we cannot help but insist that there is more to be done.

“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.” (Eph 2:8-10, italics mine)

This is from the Epistle reading for the Fourth Sunday in Lent.  It is clear in just these few verses (and I promise you will find this same message throughout the whole of scripture) that our salvation and righteousness have nothing to do with us, but solely by the free gift of God, that even our good works after we receive this gift are not of ourselves, but prepared by God for us to live into them. Who we are as Christians has nothing to do with what we do and everything to do with what God has already done. 

It is hard for us to receive things freely.  Even gifts are most often exchanged and rarely given expecting nothing in return. We are much better and paying for what we get, even when it comes to gifts.  Just think about how you felt the last time someone offered to buy your coffee or lunch when you were out.  What is your first inclination?  I know mine is always about buying their coffee or lunch the next time, in other words, to repay them.  We don’t even think about it.  Our instinct is always to repay and we are flustered by our inability to repay God. This leads us to work and work toward living a “good Christian life,” which does not exist.

In this life, there is only the “Christian life,” and it is neither “good” nor “bad.” The message of the gospel is that despite our best efforts to be bad, God declares us good. We were unable to live up to the standards of God before faith in God and it is the same after that faith is given to us.  Christians remain helpless to live up to the standards of God, but despite our efforts God saw fit to have mercy on us, to declare us saints while we were still sinners.  Thanks be to God!

"Taken"

Any man reading this post should run, don't walk, to go see "Taken."  It was the most satisfying movie I have seen in a long, long time.

"Taken" stars Liam Neeson as Bryan Mills, a retired CIA operative whose daughter is kidnapped into forced prostitution.  The stage is set in the first 10 minutes and the rest of the movie is Liam Neeson wrecking people with cold and merciless efficiency.  At every turn are pimps, henchmen, kidnappers, bodyguards, and men who bid on women "certified 100% pure" at auction for unscrupulous purposes and Mills is there to obliterate them.

This in itself, while unassailably cool, would not be post-worthy if it were not for my excitement every time one of the offenders got wasted.  Every time Mills tortures a lead from one of the antagonists, every time he shoots someone without warning to extract information, every time he leaves someone in agony in his righteous pursuit for his beloved, I was putting up the horns in victory.

I could pretend that my emotions were driven by a heightened sense of justice and righteousness (being a priest and all), but that would be a complete lie.  I know myself well enough to know that it was not a sense of justice, but the "satisfaction" of revenge that riveted me at the movies last night.

I hear people talk about justice all the time: our president and political leaders, clergy in the pulpit, my friends at the bar, and protesters on street corners, but I am not convinced any of us actually have a sense of justice, true justice.  I am even starting to believe that there is no such thing in this world, that any system of justice humans have created, no matter how developed, is at best only playing at justice.  

If a stalker kills a young woman in the street there can be no justice for that situation.  His death does not serve justice, but revenge.  The young woman is never coming back and that pain will never go away.  

Even the idea of "social justice" is a myth.  Ask a young boy in a war-torn African village, as you hand him food and supplies, what he is experiencing and his response will never be justice. There is no justice for a starving boy no matter how much food, aid, and medication you bring from rich, white America.

Our world talks a lot about justice, but what we cry out for is blood and gore, revenge and misery, anything that will dull the pain of living in a broken world.  The crowds cried out for Jesus' blood on the cross out of the insanity of sin, not out of a sense of justice.  "Justice" is the sugar coating we put on our blood lust.  "Justice" is what we hope will fill in the hole in our broken and battered hearts.  

I know it is so for me.  I am terrified by the part of me that leaps with a dark joy when I watch movies like "Taken." I pretend it is really justice that I am seeking. That I am driven by my attempt to right the wrong I see all around me. But I am the source of that wrong and my justice, my good work, is filth.

It is only compassion, and not an attempt at justice that will move to heal a broken world.  Jesus came and died for us.  This is the only act in all of history where actual Justice was served and it was in the most unjust way imaginable.  Jesus came that we might know compassion and mercy, love and hope, joy and peace, not justice...never justice.

The Scandal of the Cross

I was having a conversation recently about the scandal of the cross.  I have always taken this phrase to mean that the reality of forgiveness for sinners based solely on the merit of another (namely, Jesus) is a scandal.  That the only person in existence who had no reason to be put to death was tortured and killed.  Worse yet, it was done precisely for those who held the whip, hammer, and nails (namely, me).

Part of our conversation concerned the genocide in Rwanda, now 15 years past.  For the first time, I did not focus on the victims who were butchered with machetes (many within the walls of the churches they sought out for comfort and protection), but on those holding the weapons of death and destruction.

A comment was made that some of the killers said they were Christians.  Whenever I hear the phrase, "said they were Christians," it catches my attention because it usually means that we don't believe someone is really a Christian.  That we hear the words, but their actions are un-Christian and so we don't really believe them. I do not intend to be overly critical, this is a very popular way of thinking.  Unfortunately, it is not Christian thinking because none of our actions are "Christian."  We are unsuccessful at loving loving truly and unconditionally and therefore we are unsuccessful at living as Christians should.  That is why Jesus is so important. 

With that perspective I can almost guarantee that there were in fact Christians on both sides of the Rwandan genocide (and almost any other genocide for that matter).  Being a Christian does not always prevent us from acting in anger and fear as opposed to God's love. Christians commit horrible acts everyday, even cold-blooded murder, and they are forgiven by God every time. 

That is the scandal of the cross for me.  The scandal is not that God forgives the things we don't think are a big deal, the scandal lies in the fact that God forgives the sin in us that we find unforgivable and unimagineable.  All sin is horrific if we consider it carefully and any of us is capable of terrible things if put under the right (or I should say "wrong") pressures and circumstances.  

Christ died on the cross for us and that means the worst of us and the worst in us.  The blood of Jesus is enough for all. It is enough for those poor souls who turned to violence and ethnic cleansing in Rwanda. It is enough for the worst of the worst like Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, and Idi Amin...it has to be, or it is not enough for me.  And I need it to be enough for me.

Thank you Timothy for helping to remind me of the power of the cross.

Reminiscing on Cowardice

On the way to work today I heard an old favorite on the radio called "The Impression that I Get," by The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones. I was struck by some lyrics that I have sung unwittingly many times before:

I'm not a coward

I've just never been tested

I'd like to think that if I was I would pass

I look at the tested and think there but the grace go I

I might be a coward

I'm afraid what I might find out

I have grown up imagining myself the hero, thinking that if I saw someone being attacked or was in the middle of a violent situation, I would rise to the occasion and play the hero.  I cannot say that I have been truly tested on this (and for that I am thankful), but all indications point to me being a coward and not a hero.

A couple years ago, my mother and I were hiking in Yellowstone National Park and we came across a black bear.  Black bears are all over Yellowstone and they are rarely aggressive or dangerous to hikers. This was not even the first one we had encountered on this trip, but it was the first one that was less than 10 feet away.

You talk about wanting to see a bear in the wild and how cool that would be.  I just remember being terrified.  There was this creature, minding its own business, eating something in the trunk of a tree, and I could not get over how easily it could utterly destroy me.  My instinct was not to stand my ground and protect my mother who was hiking right behind me.  It was to avoid it and skirt by as fast as I could.

Nothing happened, but my performance does not lead me to think, "that if I was [tested] I would pass."  I don't know how I will react in any given situation, but often in this life I find that the way I imagine myself acting is rarely the way I actually act when the situation arises.  I imagine being a good boyfriend and then when I am dating someone I do all kinds of stupid things.  I imagine being a good priest and end up making some really bad calls when things get difficult.  I imagine loving those around me, but end up putting myself first before all others.

So, "I look at the tested and think there but the grace go I." Only by the grace of God in Jesus Christ go I and without that I am nothing more than a coward, a liar, a cheat, and a beggar.  In all my failings (and they are too numerous to count) I am loved.  In all my work, I am used in spite of myself.  In all my relationships, I am able to live by the word of forgiveness given first to me by Jesus.  I am able to love because I have been loved first.

Amen.

Higher Standards

I have recently been ordained to the Priesthood and this has led to more than one conversation about how things are different now that I am ordained.  A common question concerns whether or not I feel that I should be held to a higher standard now that I am a priest. 

As you might guess most people say I should be, but my answer is and will always be an emphatic "No, absolutely not." 

This is not because I want to leave room for promiscuous or delinquent behavior, it is simply a reality.  As a priest, I should not be held to a higher standard because I cannot be held to one; there is no higher standard. The very concept is an illusion.

The Law holds all people to the same standard, "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." (Matt. 5:48)  There is only one standard for all, priest or not, and it cannot be any higher.

The problem is accurately expressed in the movie "Keeping the Faith" where Ed Norton (a Roman Catholic Priest) and Ben Stiller (a Rabbi) have this exchange:

Stiller: Jews want their rabbis to be the kind of Jews they don't have the time to be.

Norton:  Yeah, and Catholics want their priests to be the kind of Catholics they don't have the discipline to be.

...But we're not and we never will be.

The heart of the issue is not whether certain people should be held to higher standards because of their calling, but the degree to which we underestimate our own sin.  This is why we are quickly becoming a nation of atheists and agnostics.  We have such a low view of the Law and what is demanded of us that we think we are doing good enough to pass. We trick ourselves into thinking we are "doing alright" and that we are "good people." We lower the bar for ourselves and raise the bar for everyone else so that we feel okay about ourselves.  We don't realize that no one passes save Jesus himself.  We don't realize we stand under judgment in desperate need of a savior, a substitute.  This is why we stop thinking Jesus matters. We become secular humanists attempting to make the world a better place, where everyone acts like us.

So, go ahead and try to hold me to a higher standard.  I promise it will still be too low compared to the standard my Lord has for me.  But God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive in Christ while we were still dead in our transgressions.  Amen.

Fleeing from the Law

So I have a pretty close friend in the hospital.  She is young and had been there for a couple months now.  I visit her 2-3 times a week and am usually there anywhere from 2-6 hours at a time.  There are a myriad of reasons why I go, some noble and some selfish, but it was always a pleasure to visit her.  Even when she was doing very poorly and didn't really make any sense when she spoke I enjoyed our time together.  That was until last night.

A friend of the family called around to people who visited a lot and asked us to sign up for weekly time slots so that the family could have some planned rest and a regular-ish schedule.  My shift is Thursday nights from 6:30-10pm.  Last night was my first "shift" with her.  I arrived 15 minutes late and left 15 minutes early. 

Requirements and restrictions only breed lawlessness and rebellion.  I am convinced of this.  So many believe that Christians should be purveyors of morality and good living.  I say hang it all and let people live.  Let them come experience the grace of God in the face of their sin and see what they do.  People have a pretty good sense of what they need to do and if they aren't doing it, it isn't because they don't know any better, it's because they can't.  More clarity on the rules isn't going to help.

There is so much fear over what people would do if the Church really offered freedom.  How people would take the grace of God and treat it as if it were cheap and meaningless.  I can't speak for everyone, but I can say this...last week you couldn't hold me back from that small hospital room on 12 North and now I just think about how I have to go next Thursday.  I am not a better person for it.  Let's give freedom a try.

A Quote Too Good Not to Post

"Christianity is not a system for making people good, it is about helping people deal with the fact that they are not good."

Serenity

"Serenity" was a movie born out of a short-lived TV show called "Firefly."  To get an idea of the setting, think Wild West in space and then, if you can figure out how that could possibly be any good, you will be on the right track.

The power of the show is in the characters that make up the pirate crew of the Firefly class spaceship named "Serenity." They are remnants of a rebellion against "The Alliance" (the confederation of civilized and technologically advanced planets toward the center of the galaxy) and long after the war is lost they continue in their opposition while attempting to survive the harsh life of the outer planets.  Their ship is falling apart, they are poor, and every step of the way they are barely holding on.

As the plot unfolds, we discover that the Alliance is seeking to eliminate rebellion and  trouble in their civilization by destroying "sin" (yes, that is the actual word they use).  In their efforts they invented a compound that suppresses the violent urges of human beings.  They experiment with this compound on a planet of people who quickly become pleasant, docile, and peaceful.  The Alliance has created a Utopian society where all obey the law perfectly, there is no rebellion, and all contribute to the upward spiral of human civilization. 

Man has conquered sin...or so they think.

It turns out that as the compound's effects progress people stop doing anything at all.  Not only do they cease to rebel, but they cease to do anything.  Everyone lies down and stops working, playing, talking, eating, and drinking, until finally, they stop breathing.  That is, everyone but the tiniest percentage of those who have quite a different reaction.  Those few become monsters. They stop feeling anything at all and lose their minds.  These twisted lepers do not lie down to die, but spend the rest of their existence feeding off any life that they encounter, destroying it utterly.  Consuming all in their path.

Mal (the captain) and his crew discover this truth that has been hidden from everyone and set out to shed light where there is darkness.  They succeed, but with terrible losses to their own.

The movie concludes with this conversation as the Serenity is taking off to its next destination. In it, Mal and River put to words the central theme of all that has been portrayed to this point.

Mal: You know what the first rule of flying is?

River: I do. But I like to hear you say it.

Mal:  Love. You can learn all the math in the 'verse, but you take a boat in the air that you don't love and she'll shake you off just as sure as the turn of the worlds.  Love keeps her in the air when she ought to fall down, tells you she's hurting before she keels, makes her a home.

[Rain pattering as they take off]

River: Storm's getting worse.

Mal: We'll pass through it soon enough.

[They exit the atmosphere of the planet and the rain stops]

This crew of rebels love one another and it is this love that makes their story so incredible. Their messy lives are held together by love and it is that love that stands in direct opposition to a "civilization" who seeks to make a perfect world by their own might.  They resist because they know no such reality is possible by force or control or technology, but only by love...and that is the one thing The Alliance lacks.

I believe this is our experience too.  We fight so hard to make our lives better and to control the world around us.  We convince ourselves with technology and enough determination we can eliminate hunger and pain and suffering, but we can't and our attempts to do so only seem to kill people or turn them into monsters.  The only thing with the power to do so is love and the only access we have to that love is the grace of God mediated by Jesus Christ alone. The story of "Serenity" is our story as a civilization...and the storm is getting worse. But I promise we will pass through it soon enough as we are carried ever upward not by ourselves, but by the love of God.

No, We Cannot

"Our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please." (President Barack Obama)

Amen. Amen.  I can only hope that a fraction of what was promised today comes to pass.  It will not happen by force of arms or by the weight of American power and control.  It will happen through peace, love, and charity.  May we all live to see the day when that is the approach of the United States to the world.  May we live to see the day when that is the approach of the Church to the world.

Today is truly a great day to be an American...even if the Dow is going to fall a few hundred points today.

When the Wheels Come Off

It is amazing how often I seem to need to be reminded of what I already believe.  I teach, I preach that we cannot control anything.  That the more we try the more we mess things up, the more we mess people up.  Whether it is our families, our careers, our daily routine, or our lives themselves, the more we try to reign something (or someone) in and make it (or them) do what we want, the more quickly we lose control...and then the wheels come off.

It is this point where we get pissed off and frustrated with everything and everyone, including ourselves, and wonder what the hell we were doing, what on earth went wrong.  We had it all figured out.  We were going to drive to the mall to run some errands and got a flat tire, we went to pay for the cart full of groceries and found we left our wallet at home, we tell our kids how they should behave and they do the opposite every time.  We try to quit smoking or drinking or lying and by the next day we are lighting up, pouring 18 year-old single malt scotch over ice, or telling our wife we were out with the guys.

We think we can change and do it right the next time, but we really can't, we do it again.  We have the best intentions and somehow end up hurting those we love more than we do when we are not trying so hard.

This is why I need grace, I need forgiveness, I need a substitute.  I know I sound like a broken record, but I need it so bad.  I look out the window at the world where I am cursed and blessed in which to live.  I balk.  I stay in out of the cold, hide away from the challenges and defeats that await me, known and unknown, but sooner or later I step out and my only hope is that I am not alone.  The only chance of reaching my destination is on account of a loving God whose word to me is, "You are my son, I love you, I forgive you, in you I am well pleased."  

Trust in a loving God who does and can control all things and will always, whether I understand it or not, do it better than me is all I have to hold on to and it is all I need.  Thank you Lord Jesus for loving me.

Calling Good Evil and Evil Good

I was perusing the "Best of Craigslist" today and came across the posting CAT FOUND where someone apparently found a possum on their back porch and, thinking it was someone's lost cat, took it in and posted it on craigslist.

I have a hard time believing this post is legitimate, but it reminds me of how often I call possums cats, only when I do it, I am much less funny.

I see things in this world that disgust me, pain and suffering, natural disasters and war, extreme poverty and extreme wealth, and part of me questions the goodness of God because of them, but most of me accepts that I simply cannot understand the things of God.  This has nothing to do with putting blinders on to the world or trying to ignore the reality and so-called "problem" of evil. It has everything to do with the realization that I get possums and cats mixed up all the time. 

While I may not understand what God is doing in the world around me, I do know God has done inside of me. I am a wretched man and yet I am loved more than my feeble mind can comprehend.  The same part of me that questions a loving God in this broken world is the same part of me that calls this love bad and clings to what I hate.

And so here I am, doing the best I can with what I've got, knowing that it is not good enough. Knowing that I am not an expert on cats or possums. Carried ever onward by the knowledge that I am loved on account of Jesus and declared a son of God.

Imputation

Imputation is a strange word that theologians have used in attempt to describe the way we become righteous.  It means that we are righteous because we are declared so on the basis of Jesus' merit alone. It is righteousness given to us. It is not righteousness we earn with God's help.

To be honest, I am not even sure I have defined it well, but definitions are usually less helpful than illustrations.  So, here is today's story of imputation...

I am a newly ordained priest who for the first time is living his vocation as opposed to preparing for it. Now that I am here, I am terrified that I will not be a good priest.  Terrified because I have invested so much in this. Terrified because I truly believe it to be my call.  Terrified because it is the only thing that makes sense to me to do with my life...what if I can't cut it?

Today, I received a letter from a woman who has visited our church a few times.  The letter was written to tell me I would be a wonderful priest, that she knew I became a priest for all the right reasons.  I cannot describe in words the encouragement that she offered me through such a simple gesture.  Anxiousness fell away, fear dissipated, and I am left with love and joy.

I didn't do anything to illicit such a response.  She has little evidence of me being any good at this. There are many people better suited to make such a judgment and many of them may disagree with her conclusion, but she told me I would be a wonderful priest and it doesn't even matter if empirically speaking she is right, because it makes me so.

I may not be able to define imputation well, but I can say that this letter has made me a better priest than four years of seminary combined.

Digging Down Deep

I had a remarkable experience of forgiveness last week.  I was simply horrible to someone very dear to me and I was horrified.  I hadn't acted that way toward someone in many years (if ever), and worse yet, it was toward someone I have only known a short while.  I had no past hurts to draw upon to justify my action, nothing I could point to that would mitigate the offense.  It was pure and simple meanness that came solely and completely from me, unprovoked and undeserved. 

I rarely get upset or treat my friends badly, but when I am hurt I can be very nasty.  It is only after this very unique experience where there was not any harm done or even intended that I realize I have forgotten a big piece of forgiveness, the undeserved and unmerited nature of it. 

With so many of my friends and family forgiveness has become routine.  Its weight and significance lessened because I have turned it into a quid pro quo rather than forgiveness.  Instead of wiping the slate clean, the scales are balanced. Instead of loving, I am enduring.  I start to think that I deserve to be forgiven because others are wronging me. 

This is not the love or the forgiveness that God offers us through the merit of Jesus.  There is never wrong done to me by God and there is always wrong done by me to God.  Yet I am forgiven.  The slate is wiped clean, my relationship is restored, and I am loved, declared a son of God, an heir with Jesus.  I am not overwhelmed by anxiety wondering when I will go too far and sin too much and step outside the bounds of God’s forgiveness…I am simply forgiven.  Loved. 

This reality crushes me to the core, but I am distracted by my feeble imitation of “forgiveness.” And yet, there are moments like this past week when I am reminded of what I have actually been given and I can scarcely breathe.  I am overwhelmed by love, by forgiveness, by grace. 

So thank you K. for your inspired forgiveness and grace.