Scripture

"Most people are bothered by those passages of Scripture they do not understand, but the passages that bother me are those I do understand" (Mark Twain).

Digging through an old chest full of memories last week, I stumbled across an old bible that had belonged to my mother. Other than records of her marriage and the births of those in our family, the only other writing in the book were a few verses that she had underscored (Matthew 10:32-33; Mark 8:34-38; and Luke 12:8,9). In all three passages, Jesus seems to be saying the same thing, so it caused me to wonder what my mother had been hearing from God so significantly those fifty-odd years ago.

Do you ever get this sneaky suspicion that you are being read when you read the Scriptures, as though Someone were peering into the window of your soul that you forgot to close? I have experienced that "living and active" part of God's word many times. I find quite often that while I am reading, the Spirit of God is reading me. It's as if he is leaning over my shoulder and whispering into my soul.

I've lost track of how many times I have experienced what Fr. Richard Rohr calls "the right hand and left hand of God". He says, "God clearly loves us with both left and right hands, total demands (commandments) combined with pure, unearned grace" ("Adam's Return", p. 85). This explains why sometimes as I read Scripture, I feel comforted while other times I feel disciplined. Sometimes it refreshes; sometimes it stings. Sometimes his presence is appreciated; sometimes it feels a bit invasive.

It's all the same God speaking.

I must confess, however, that the bible simply as knowledge doesn't really interest me that much. The inner work of transformation does. I've known people who were masters of biblical trivia -- people who would be able to skunk Moses in a quiz on Exodus --but don't possess an ounce of love for God or charity for their fellow man. The recitation of bible stories can do wonders for communicating truths about God, but that transformative element where the Spirit of God communes with our spirit to bring alignment and life...now that's the good stuff!

I've read the bible, and I've been read by the bible...and I know the difference. Reading a book on marriage can be a good thing, but it is no replacement for actually being married. Some of my most profound spiritual experiences have come through being "read like a book" as I moved through the pages of God's word.

It is inspiring.

It is invasive.

It is cutting.

It is healing.

God comes close, and it is significant.

"How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth" (Psalm 119:103).

Friendship

Place

"But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed" (Luke 5:16).

Isolated, wild places have always been spiritual places to me, and they have been the source of some of my most profound experiences of life and faith. I find it difficult to explain the sense of life and perspective that comes from removing myself from the busyness of city and planting myself in the midst of wild beauty.

I find God in those places.

It's not that he isn't among us in the Denver metro area. I've experienced his presence in the classroom and the living room, in traffic jams and coffee houses, in large crowds and one-on-one street corner conversations. Nor does he exist only in trees and rock and landscape since none of those natural things actually are God, but I can certainly touch, feel, and smell the creativity of God and be reminded of my place in his universe.

I suppose it's not that I find God in the desert or on the mountain, but I am certainly better tuned to hear the whispering of his spirit when everything that distracts or drowns is gone. I enjoy being stripped of all that is artificial and man-made only to sit exposed, raw, and real before him and without all those "things" upon which I have built my life. I can sit alone with my thoughts and sense the straightening-out that God alone can do when we take the time to be one on one.

He restores my soul.

When I am in the wild places, I go there in the tradition of the Desert Fathers, the Apostles, the Patriarchs, the Prophets, and Jesus -- all of whom went to wild places to commune with God stripped from distraction. They, too, knew the value of those lonely places and were nourished by every word that came from the mouth of God!

A couple weeks back, I joined my friend Jonathon in the Great Basin Desert on the Utah/Nevada state line. As we were driving along US 50, we came across a large, dry lake bed that seemed to stretch for nearly 30 miles. Never satisfied with staying on the main road, we took a diversion and headed out into the desert to find access to this fascinating landscape. Upon reaching the edge of this ancient lake bed, we left the truck behind and walked.

Surrounded by this vast expanse, I was keenly aware that I was but one small dot. I felt small but significant. I thought about those things which seem to loom large over my life, and standing in this great, open landscape seemed to put even those things into perspective.

Perspective.

Peace.

Presence.

I felt the ministry of God's spirit in that place, if only for a moment. A moment was all I needed.

Those solitary places are important to me, and so are the people with whom I share my life. Through both people and place, the Father continues to meet me.

In the next article, I will write about how I feel God meets me in service.

People

"While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew's house, many tax collectors and 'sinners' came and ate with him and his disciples" (Mt. 9:10).

When I was a child and on up through my teen years and beyond, I was afraid of people due to a lack of self-confidence and a deep-seeded insecurity that I'm sure sprung from my fatherlessness. My fear of people, consequently, kept me at a distance and made it rather difficult to establish deep, connected relationships with others unless they were willing to go the extra mile to meet me. I spent a lot of my early years missing out on substance and depth and the life-giving good stuff that comes from those inter-personal connections.

The writer of the Psalms says, "God sets the lonely in families" (68:6), and that has certainly been the story of my life. Even before I knew the significance of deep, connected human relationships, God began placing significant people in my life and began the process of healing even while I was unaware. I recognize the sacred, strategic placement of specific people in my childhood who I am certain brought the incarnational touch of God into my life. Fast forward to the present day, and God continues to meet me in such a way.

I believe as a follower of Christ matures, there begins a necessary outward focus of one's life. While we continue to receive the Father's ministry in our own lives, we are compelled by the Spirit of Christ within us to love and serve others as Christ. For me, this means that where God served me, I am serving others; the place where God met me, I meet others.

It is in the presence of people that I have some of my most profound, spiritual experiences.

When we take the time to be with people, I believe the Spirit of God is present whether I am with other believers or not. Where I go, he goes, and that gives every human interaction the potential for sacred significance. Those hundreds of daily interactions with students, friends, neighbors, family, and strangers become substantial as we bring the presence of God into their lives and deposit something of worth and value. I am keenly aware of this potential everyday as I seek to serve my students...

Where I go, he goes.

Incarnation.

The Spirit of God connecting with flesh and blood.

What a novel idea!

I've got a lot of time for people, and I enjoy those expected and unexpected interactions with others. It's satisfying to be with people and recognize the imprint of the Creator in their soul and enjoy their company as Jesus enjoyed the company of those whose tables he gathered around. It's good, also, to recognize my dependence on others and to be reminded of my dependence upon God. As I seek to follow Christ, I know now more than ever my need for interdependence and to trust his work in my life through those who come close. I do not want to live outside of this community.

Although there are times when I appreciate and need solitude and quiet places, I will not dismiss my call to come along side people and to allow the Father to do the same in my life through others.

In the next article, I will explore how I believe God meets me in place.

Dirty

Contact

"We are spiritual beings on a human journey."

I had a lot of time to myself over the weekend as I traveled 17 hours round trip to spend some time with a friend of mine. As if by design, my CD player in my truck quit working at the time I was crossing 500 miles of desert with few people in need of any sort of radio station. Consequently, I was left with my own thoughts and the ever-invading presence of God.

Not that I minded.

It was a great weekend, one of those weekends that refreshed and replenished what my normal day-to-day living can take out of me. In between the random John Denver and Pete Seeger songs that I couldn't get out of my head, I found myself thinking about some of my deepest and most profound spiritual experiences. When I say "spiritual experience", I am not talking about some artificially LSD induced euphoria or a sensational moment of enlightenment, but I refer to those places where I believe God continually meets me, those places where I sense a closeness to God.

Contact.

Although I've been warmed in the embrace of God through prayer and meditation, I've seen the miraculous before my eyes, and I've fallen on my face when confronted with painful life lessons, I realize that my most substantial moments of spiritual formation didn't come through the most common or even expected of Christian conduits. Those deep, inner moments of significance with God in my life have been primarily built around the frameworks of people and place, scripture and service.

Some would say that our experiences with God should be similar and uniform, and so they prescribe rituals and traditions to help their people embrace God and experience a sense of his presence. One of my most profound spiritual experiences comes through the ordinance of feet washing according to John 13 and as practiced among many congregations and Christian communities.

While I value the place of tradition, I'm not so convinced that simply following prescribed formulas produce great moments with God. They may or they may not. How often have I heard the following formula as the path to God: read the bible + pray + go to church + don't sin = success in the Christian life! How many believers have followed that formula only to feel disenfranchised, disappointed, and distant from God and then be told to read more, pray more, attend more services, and sin even less.

Most of those profound moments with God have been outside the sanctuary (or even the sanctioned).

While I value the spiritual disciplines, I sometimes wonder if God isn't a bit more creative in how he chooses to approach us and connect with us. What else can explain his presence at the table, or the encounter on the street with a homeless man that leaves me feeling as though I had just served Christ, or the peace with God I get in the middle of the wilderness? He knows our language, and he knows our need. I'm sure he knows just how to connect.

I am going to take some time to write about those four places where I believe God continually connects with me in the next few articles.

Mouth

Better

Life is better with people in it.

For those of you in my life, your presence in it does not go unnoticed!

Thanks for being part of my story.

Confession

"A true spiritual leader makes it safe for you to show yourself..." (R. Rohr).

The Anabaptist tradition of my upbringing instilled within me an appreciation for a doctrine called "The Priesthood of All Believers" which is an idea that we need no mediator between ourselves and God except Christ. (That's just part of the doctrine, really.) I was taught that I didn't need a priest to go to God and find forgiveness because that's what Jesus does. I wonder, though, how much of this belief gets translated into idealistic individualism that says, "I don't need a priest, and I also don't need you."

We do need each other.

By and large, there is a rejection of "confession" as a notion and as a practice among Protestant traditions, and many believers particularly reject confession as practiced by our Catholic brothers and sisters. Even within the Catholic community, the confessional is gradually falling out of use. I think the absence of confession is leaving a gaping hole in the spiritual health of the church. Let me explain.

Despite the mandate of scripture that we should confess our sins, many of us continue to keep our sin and struggles well tucked away from all others, wrestling with them quietly and giving those things leverage over our lives. I like what James wrote in chapter 5 verse 16 in the context of prayer and healing: "Therefore, confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed." The "each other" part is very significant here. If James were convinced that healing came from a man praying for himself, he would have said so. There must be something significant about bringing your sins and struggles to others.

The Christian faith must be lived in mutuality.

There's a big difference, too, in confessing your sins to one another and confessing your sins to everyone. Although we are a "kingdom of priests", not everyone can be trusted with the special care, grace, and discernment required for healthy confession. I wouldn't expose my jugular to anyone with a knife and a reputation for using one, nor would I confess my sins and struggles to someone who would use such information for leverage, power, or destruction.

True confession would lead to love (not leverage), freedom (not control), and healing (not condemnation). It would look like Jesus.

The point of confession among believers isn't just the forgiveness of sin but is also healing. I have experienced the washing away of guilt or pain or darkness when I have confessed my weaknesses, struggles, and sins with a trusted brother or mentor. For men especially, getting thoughts outside of the darkness of our minds can be liberating enough to bring about tremendous healing and re-set our course in the right direction. We don't do well alone with our thoughts.

Confession is also a sign of the spiritual health of a congregation and the individual believer. I think when people feel safe enough to confess, it surely must reflect an authentic presence of mercy and wisdom in the life of the one's hearing the confession. I tell you this...it is certainly humbling to be on the receiving end of someone's deepest confession. There are fewer things, in my experience, that are received with such a weight of responsibility.

It is my belief that people discover the love and grace of God when they experience it from God's people. By the look of things, I'd say we could use a little more of it.

Life

Transparency

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (Jesus, Mt. 5:3).

Where grace persists and people take seriously the communion of the Body of Christ (in other words, the community of followers of Christ), you will see transparency at work. I think our level of transparency with one another is a sign of health in a church and a measure of the loving, restorative nature of our ministry to one another.

Transparency is good for us. All of us.

Transparency puts to death our need to preserve our reputation rather than pursue true spiritual formation. Rather than giving in to the urge to portray ourselves as something we are not, honesty and transparency about our weaknesses keeps us dependent upon God's grace (and others!). Even Paul, whom many admire as a great man, understood the important role of "the thorn" to keep us from becoming conceited and in a state of dependence. For as much as we read all the bravado in Paul's writings, we cannot skip over his level of transparency and honesty about his own life!

Transparency liberates from the guilt and condemnation that comes from battling things privately in the secret confines of our own minds. I know it to be true for myself...when I talk things out with a trusted friend, things aren't nearly as dark and dismal as I had played them up to be. I've known a lot of personal healing through bringing thoughts out of the "darkness" in my mind and bringing them into the light or open. This has been one of my favorite aspects of authentic community!

Transparency teaches and leads others through our example. When we determine to live in transparency, others learn through us and often find the freedom to discover tangible grace for themselves. Doctrines and dogmas, facts and statistics do little to sway people, but the sharing of one's own personal stories, warts and all, can cause people to relate to the inner working of God's Spirit like nothing else.

Transparency stimulates gracious, merciful living towards others. I am convinced that the reason why people find it so difficult in practicing mercy is because of how little they have experienced it themselves. Once we have opened ourselves to being beneficiaries of the grace of God, we have the grace to dispense towards others. Mercy begets mercy, and it starts to defeat whatever remains of the "unmerciful servant" in us (Matthew 18). I believe it causes us to be less uptight and less judgmental of others and helps to develop an appetite within us for bringing people to life!

Through trusted honesty, our real, raw humanity can be met with the tangible grace of God. Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest with a men's ministry I admire, said this: "A man who owns his limitations and weeps over his sin is much more effective than one who thinks he has neither." Transparency and honesty -- especially in authentic community -- keeps us real and keeps us dependent (though we may fear both!).

A month ago, I was talking with a colleague who happened to be very outspoken at a team meeting while challenging some things that were coming out of his manager's mouth. I admired his ability to speak the truth on behalf of all of us, knowing that he was risking his job in the process. When I began to heap my admiration upon him, he stopped me and said this: "I don't want you to be under the impression that I am a brave man. I've just got a great job offer in the works and I have nothing to lose!"

I laughed.

How true! We've got nothing to lose! Apart from Christ, I have no reputation before God. "Jesus Christ is my only reason for boasting."

Hide

"...confess your sins to each other and pray for each other that you may be healed" (James 5:15).

The most common threat every child carries with them in their prepubescent vocabulary is the phrase "I'm going to tell on you!" Such threats can strike fear into the hearts of children in playgrounds and on monkey bars everywhere. Generally, there were just a handful of students who had the reputation of being tattlers, but we learned to avoid them altogether or alter our conversation and behavior whenever they came around. We learned how to survive by mistrusting those who couldn't keep their mouth shut or pretending to be doing something else whenever they were around.

As adults, we've perfected these techniques first learned in childhood. We were taught to hide, but we mastered concealment and secrecy by our teen years and on into adulthood. This, unfortunately, can have serious consequences for our mental health and even spiritual development and transformation. Our emotional, mental, and spiritual health is always tied into community, so whenever we attempt to "go at it alone", we seldom find success or resolve -- quite the opposite, in fact. Community, especially authentic Christian community that is immersed in wisdom and grace, has trememdous power to transform and heal. Despite biblical counsel to confess our sins to one another, it is probably not broadly practiced among believers today. It may be normal to hide, but it is not healthy.

"...confess your sins to each other and pray for each other that you may be healed" (James 5:15).

I think there are generally two reasons why people hide their struggles and sins, soft spots and sore points: shame and protection. I can understand both. No one likes to air their dirty laundry in the presence of others. Shame and the subsequent act of hiding is one of the oldest recorded behaviors of man (Genesis 3). God, in his mercy, made a covering for them so they would not be ashamed. So, too, should we be careful to cover those who have either been made vulnerable or have exposed themselves by their own choosing.

As far as protection, anyone who has had the awful experience of having their secrets or insecurities used as leverage against them by people who seek to manipulate and control has obvious and credible reasons to keep themselves tucked safely away. Why would anyone openly invite judgment, condemnation, ridicule, or isolation? I am convinced many people don't seek out confession within the Body of Christ because they do not feel safe to do so.

Our fear of one another causes us to bear false witness.

Hiding, among other things, prevents us from experiencing transformative grace, robs us of authentic living and deep community, increases our isolation, feeds self-destruction, and stunts the spiritual maturity and growth of the church. It gives us a sense of false-security but never quite takes away the fear of being found out. That's why the security is false.

When I first went into ministry, there were any number of elder pastors who advised me to be sure to never develop deepened, trusting relationships within the congregations I served. While I should move close to the people I was called to serve, I was advised never to allow them too close to me. For some reason, it was important to keep the insecure, weak, or worried parts of me hidden while the man of strength took center stage. I don't believe this now, and -- quite frankly -- it didn't sit right with me when I first heard it. What an unhealthy approach to life (and ministry)!

One of those irkish little things about being a pastor is how quickly some people morph and change their behavior whenever I am around. I say "some" because I have been priviledged to be around many truly authentic people. Just occasionally, I get to witness the verbal acrobatics some people perform in order to pull off the act of concealment. It's awkward. It makes me feel awkward, and they look awkward. I prefer the company of the authentic over pretense and posturing any day, yet I can understand why some would do it.

I can never forget those countless moments with youth and grown men who have quietly, in the confines of safe places, relieved themselves of the secrets of their hearts, the battles of the mind, or the bruises of yesteryear and found healing and redemption in Christ. I have seen grown men weep and broken men laugh as the mercy of God intersected with their greatest need.

Often I have heard comments about how young people these days are "so far out there". I believe what we are often observing is their backlash against face, pretense, and hiding -- a rebellion against the inauthentic...and this is one of the traits of post-modernism. They want to be known. While I can appreciate their "soul streak", many of them still lack the community and support of those who can offer the foundational things that they are craving. I dream of a church with a heart prepared to engage and serve others at their greatest point of need.

The survival techniques of our youth don't necessarily do us any good as we grow towards maturity. The challenge is in finding our way forward...

Next article "Transparency".

Calling

Hospitable

Every believer a priest.

Every home a temple.

Every table an altar.

Every meal an offering.

Every guest a treasure.

Slow

Frayed

A Thought for the Frayed

I feel so frayed

Like a rug

Trampled on

Torn at the edges

Worn thin in places

The people come

And go

I am left

With my holes

And my flaws.

But there is more

To me than this

I can be more

Because you made me

To be more

I am not a rug

Beaten and scorned

I am something

Beautiful

A tapestry -- a story.

I am loved

My imperfections

Are nothing

To the one Who wove me

He does not see

The worn out holes

Tattered corners

He sees the beauty

I am more

Because he

Made me to be.

-- author unknown

Life

Wilderness

Lost

"All who wander are not lost."

I heard a quote the other day that went something like this: "If you don't know where you're going, any road will do."

I have been lost more than my fair share while trying to get from point A to point B or while exploring some remote region of this country or that one. Isn't it funny how when you are trying to get somewhere, getting lost can cause a real sense of panic and frustrustion since we know we are not where we are supposed to be? I admit I am not the best in those moments I am lost...

On the other hand, there have been those times when I've been "lost" and didn't seem to mind it at all, like those lazy drives in the plains of America or while exploring the backroads of Donegal in Ireland where, if there are any road signs at all, they are most certainly pointing you in the wrong direction. Getting lost, in these occasions, becomes a chance to see the unexpected. Sometimes, it's a nice little diversion that offers a whole different perspective on the place you find yourself in.

For some people, being lost is the destination of choice. With no place in particular to go, some folks seem content to meander through life while enjoying chance encounters with people and place. I can understand the curiosity of the wanderer, those who seem to be seeking after what may be more ethereal than many would prefer. Many have wandered from well-worn paths to seek spiritual renewal or vision. Even Jesus escaped the common to find vision and clarity for his eventual return to the people he was called to.

Clearly, all who wander are not lost.

There is a difference between being lost due to one's own idiocy (which usually follows a period of wandering through the proverbial desert) and taking the less-traveled road to be refreshed, renewed, and even surprised. Many of the highlights of my life have come from the second type of journey; some of the worst moments have come from the first.

There is a Voice that leads us along the Journey. Some, having ignored the whispers have found themselves in the stinky belly of a big fish (or something like that). Others have enjoyed the companionship of the Voice and have appreciated the unique places that listening (and obeying) has taken them. I, for one, have enjoyed the diversion that these last couple years have brought and the perspective such a journey has offered.

I hear someone calling my name. Gotta go...

Give