New

Remember

"God sets the lonely in families..." (Psalm 68:6).

We have a very broad view of home and family at the Ray house.

There are reasons for it, I suppose.

I'll start off with a biblical perspective. The scriptures teach us that taking up the cause of the fatherless, the stranger, and the widow is something the Father of fathers seems to value in His children. The author of the book of James says that pure and faultless religion means looking after orphans and widows (James 1:27). Jesus took it a step further. Rather than serving a cause, he says that whenever we feed the hungry or welcome the stranger we are actually doing that for him. The author of Hebrews says that by making hospitality our practice, we may be entertaining angels unaware (13:2).

I suppose the verses I've come to appreciate the most in this regard is found in Deuteronomy 24:17-18 which says, "Do not deprive the stranger or the fatherless of justice or take the cloak of the widow as a pledge. Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you from there. That is why I command you to do this."

Remember...

I remember. I was the fatherless child.

And I remember being redeemed from that place, and I am grateful for the rescue. So how can I not do the same? The core of my faith...that place where Christ met me...demands it from me. I will glady spend myself, open our home, and share our life to right the injustice that fatherlessness brings.

I remember.

Merry Christmas

Emmanuel

Me, Two

"When a man is wrapped up in himself, he makes a pretty small package" (John Ruskin).

I confess that my previous post "Me" was nothing but pure, intentional sarcasm. One could hardly take it seriously, but there is a point.

I have questions...

Just how much does our culture influence the church in America? How much of our understanding of the Christian faith is formed by our capitalistic zeal, consumerism, and greed?

I wonder how we could read the scriptures -- especially Jesus -- and come to the conclusion that Jesus died for our happiness, our prosperity, our success, and our American dream?

Donald Kraybill, professor at Elizabethtown College, says, "Modern culture produces individualists whose prime objective is personal fulfillment." One need not look to hard before finding the Christian bookstore specializing in some of the latests "it's all about me" products or a local church marketing itself to the spiritual consumer with promises of self-improvement and personal fulfillment. Personally, I believe there is more to the message of Christ than this "Jesus in a bottle".

Much more.

I believe we are called "out" and into a radical attachment to Jesus, not where we simply believe things about Jesus or even believe in Jesus but where we love Jesus, follow Jesus, and imitate Jesus. We value the Sermon on the Mount and hang onto his words as words of life. The teachings of Jesus challenges us (and even terrifies us) but yet we know he is right. "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me."

A radical understanding of Jesus teaches us to say "no" to our sense of entitlement. I will never forget the moment one of my youth in Northern Ireland told me that because she was a daughter of the King, God wanted her to have all good things...and that included the Mercedez she wanted (and apparently deserved). It's fascinating to me that we are already the most prosperous people on the planet and yet we think we are entitled to more. Perhaps one of the biggest weaknesses of our age is our inability to see the difference between our need and our old-fashioned greed.

A radical understanding of Jesus teaches us to say "no" to self-agrandizement. I recently received an email from an popular youth-oriented ministry promoting their new summer missions campaign they've called "One Million Acts of Service". "What if the world saw us do one million acts of sacrificial service?" the email asked. But should we be keeping score? Whatever happened to the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing, quietly serving in love and humility? What room is there for boasting and bragging about our "good works", even if they are for Jesus? "Service whose goal is to elevate the servant is no service at all. It is egocentric at best and exploitive at its worst" (David Augsburger, "Dissident Discipleship"). When we "serve", what is our motive?

A radical understanding of Jesus teach us to cease from assessing value to other people's lives based on their usefulness to us (or to "the cause" for that matter). Our culture teaches us to assign worth to people based on what they can do for us. Jesus teaches us to see the value of every life. Period. I cease to be a loving husband when I only value my wife for what she can do for me. I cease to be a loving friend when I base my friendships on what they can provide for me. I cease to be a loving teacher when I only appreciate the student who is cooperative and productive. I cease to be a loving neighbor when I place conditions on how I treat them. I cease to represent Christ when I judge, dismiss, ignore...

I may be branded a heretic for writing this, but the point of the Christian faith is not simply my salvation. I don't know how one could seriously consider the words of Jesus and come to that conclusion. Jesus challenges me to re-think my selfish ambition and vain conceit. It changes our lives to read about this Jesus who washed feet and asked us to do the same.

David Augsburger, from his book "Dissident Discipleship" asks some good questions: "If the goal of life is not to be better, bigger, more perfect, more capable, more competitive, more admired, or more famous, then what is it? If the signs of God's blessing are not prosperity, sweeping success, wealth, mega-spirituality, mega-acclaim, leadership in a mega church, or being remembered in generations that follow, then what are they?" (p. 97).

Really good questions...

I think Jesus will always challenge our cultural dispositions and norms...even our religious ones. He calls us to re-consider all things, and I think we must consider them often. We must, even, reconsider ourselves.

Gift

Me

Me me me me.

Me me me me me me me me me me me me. Me me me me me me me me me me. Me me me me. Me me me me me me me. Me me me me me me me me. Me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me. Me me me me.

Me me.

Me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me. Me me me me me me me me me me me me me me. Me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me.

Me!

Me!

Me!

Me!

Me!

Me me me me. Me me me. Me me me me me me me me me me me me me.

Love

Face

Present

"When mindfulness and attention embrace those we love, they will bloom like flowers."

A few years back, I was asked to teach a seminar in Ireland on youth ministry. In preparation for the event, I sent a quick email to many of my former youth asking them what was the single-most impacting part of my work with them. My former students were unanimous in their response: You gave us time.

I remain convinced that one of the most important gifts you can give someone is your presence. To "be there" is a rare thing these days, and just showing up can have tremendous and life-changing effects on a kid. It's quite humbling to know that nothing I ever taught, no program I ever created, no event I ever coordinated or overseas mission trip I ever organized made the impact that intentional time did. I've given a lot of sweat, energy, and time to program but time made all the difference.

Instead of spending so much time creating youth programming to compete with the world for their attention, I learned that the greatest asset I had was to simply be present in their lives.

Thinking back to my own childhood, it wasn't the advice of a father I missed; it was his presence. By and large, it's the absence of present people that seems to have the most significant detrimental impact on many of the teens I work with.

Authentic presence is a real gift to people. It's like giving the gift of you. Presence made one of the biggest differences in my life when growing up. There once was a man that God gave me as a gift. He was my pastor. Whenever I showed up, he dropped what he was doing and gave me countless, uninterrupted hours of his time. I don't remember much of what he ever said to me, but his time made all the difference. I thank God for Paul's presence. It's what I needed to get me through those years relatively intact!

We need to value being present with people. What we say when we're not screams volumes. We need to learn to turn off the cell phone and television and lay aside our schedules for those whose lives need our presence.

It is the perfect gift.

Word

Death

"Death is more universal than life; everyone dies, but not everyone lives" (A. Sachs).

Recently, we lost one of our students through death. In the weeks following the tragic incident that led to his ultimate passing, I spent a considerable amount of time with his family. It caused me to think a lot about death and recall some of my own losses and experiences. It's not a subject we tend to approach with comfort or face with ease.

While visiting my student and his family, I noticed that the waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit was packed daily with friends and family who were there to offer mutual support. Of course, because of his delicate condition, very few people were allowed into ICU to see him in person. When the family made the agonizing decision to remove him from life support and move him to hospice, there was increased freedom for visitation. People were able to come and go as they pleased, offering support in person or keeping a beside vigil.

But they didn't come.

The throngs that packed the hospital waiting room for a week or more were noticeably absent during the two weeks that followed at the hospice. They could have come. They could have visited. They could have said their goodbye's to their friend. But something wouldn't allow it. When the opportunity came to be close, the proximity to death was too much for some...and they stayed away.

I don't blame them.

I think death is very difficult for us to handle in this culture. All cultures grieve, but some cultures seem to take a more personal, earthy, hands-on approach to that grief and the rituals that surround death and dying.

In this country, people tend to die in isolated hospital rooms under the care of professional providers. Funeral directors remove the body and embalm it to delay decay and then seal it in a casket and vault to preserve it for years. The grave diggers arrive before the burial and then finish the task after the family has left. The casket is beautiful and pricey, and the hair and make up are so professional that we can approach the body for the 30 seconds we have to face it and utter the words "doesn't she look nice?". And then we have a potluck.

I knew quite a different experience in Ireland. The family gathers at the hospital morgue to be with the body before the undertaker removes it and embalms it just enough to keep the air fresh during the wake and funeral but not too long to delay decomposition. When they "bring him home", the body is placed in the dining room or a bedroom for family and friends to gather around, pay their respects, and mutually comfort. Usually, the men of the parish dig the grave before attending the funeral. The body is carried in a primitive coffin of wood on the shoulders of friends and family in and out of the church and to the burial site. After being lowered into the ground in the presence of all gathered, the priest and family take turns shoveling dirt onto the naked coffin resting on the clay. In Ireland, I saw the community embracing the death of their loved ones and neighbors, and they didn't make it pretty.

In primitive cultures, they would wash the body of their brother, sister, father, and mother before wrapping it and burying it in a shallow grave. They nursed their sick, wounded, and aged. They had to deal with the smell of death and bore with each other their naked grief. It was real. It was messy. It was life.

For many of us, the end care of our loved ones is no longer our responsibility, and we are seldom afforded the opportunity of walking with our loved ones into the valley of the shadow of death. Although the pain of my student's family was intense, I believe those weeks that they had at the bedside of their son was a precious gift. They sat with him, held his hand, spoke to him, and did not leave his side. They were with him when he entered this life, and they were with him the moment he entered the next.

I've spent a bit of time comparing and contrasting the death of my own parents. My father died alone, suddenly, in a laundromat as he waited for his clothes to finish washing. He died in a seated position, and for almost a half hour, people just thought he was sleeping. My mother, on the other hand, suffered with all sorts of health issues that left my brother and I with an awful and terrible decision that we had to make regarding how she was going to die. So we made the difficult decisions and spent the next week and a half at her bedside until the inevitable happened. She was surrounded by her boys, and I felt she was at peace. Those were precious moments spent by her bedside, and I know they contain memories I will not easily forget.

None of us get to choose our exit, but if I could, I'd prefer to be surrounded by those who loved me in life and who love me in death. I believe in the importance of sharing life with others, and there are few times as precious and foundationally real as those moments our loved ones make their transition from this life to the next.

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints" (Psalm 116:15).