Thursday, March 26, 2009

Midnight Ride

George is getting frustrated with me. I have been sporadic at best. Writing blogs has taken a backseat to writing sermons but perhaps I can be forgiven as Lent has appeared in the blink of an eye and I am surrounded by the blanket of wondrous responsibilities of a pastor in the busiest weeks of the year. But, aside from my attempt at proclaiming an excuse, I met with a friend of mine, Karen who told me something truly blogworthy.

April 19, 1775 was a night that still 'rings' with history for the United States. Some historians (especially George who is a government teacher, I think) will remember this as the evening of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. His name, revered (sorry) throughout the centuries as the patriot who warned the Americans that the Redcoats were coming. As told in the story by Henry W. Longfellow in 1860, Revere, through difficulties and darkness, warned the people of Concord and Lexington about the upcoming surge of military men from England. What Wadsworth left out was that Revere was not the only one sent out to Lexington to warned Samuel Adams and John Hancock. There was another man - William Dawes.

Only the stoutest national historians know the name of Will Dawes. A shoemaker in Boston, he was one of the earliest patriots. Sent out on horseback to Lexington, unlike Revere, he took the long way. Then, when near arrest, he was thrown from his horse and escaped on foot. Eventually he reached the towns of Concord and Lexington, but Revere had already been there. Folklore tells us though that William Dawes would not have succeeded anyway. Dawes was not intimately connected with the people like Paul Revere was. Supposedly, Revere was out in the communities all of the time getting to know people, their schedules, their lives. People trusted him. Again, tradition tells us that Dawes did not know the people and when he came to warn people of the approach of the British, they either did not believe him or they did not listen to his voice. So, William Dawes has fallen off the cliff of American history as the silent partner of Paul Revere on his midnight ride from Boston to Lexington.

Perhaps as Christians we can learn a bit from the midnight ride. People trust the voice of a person they know - someone that is intimately involved in their lives. Like Paul Revere, we need to get out into the community and be a part of the lives of our fellow humans - not forcing ourselves, or intruding, but supporting and encouraging others in wending their way through life. If we, as the vocal chords of Jesus, show up simply proclaiming condemnation, or the approach of the end of the world, they either will not believe us, or disregard our voice. We are called to proclaim the Gospel, that the kingdom of God is drawing near, to love even if not loved in return. Then, those that we encounter will trust our voice - they know that we have their best interests in mind.

Jesus speaks these same words in John chapter 10: "The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. the gatekeeper opens the gate for him and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice."

The sheep hear his voice and follow because of his voice, but he does not call from a distance, he enters the pen with them. He calls them from the midst of them and leads them to safety.

This is our calling - our vocation as Christians - to be in the midst of life and be Jesus vocal chords.

A few years ago, I was roused by a phone call. A youth from the church had called to tell the me the worst possible news: a teenager was killed in an automobile accident and the youth were gathering to meet at a house were they could commiserate and lean on each other in their grief. The voice on the phone cracked as she asked if I would come and sit in their midst.

Throwing on some clothes, I headed down to the car and began to drive to their house. What would I say? What could I possibly express to teenagers in the grief of losing a close friend? What if I said something completely asinine and they ended up throwing me out? (I have said some pretty idiotic things before). My worries were unfounded. The youth didn't want me to say anything - they only wanted me to listen and throughout the late night and into the early morning of my own Midnight Ride, those kids shared with me fears, sorrows, joys, loves - every possible human experience. And the word I spoke?

God's word at the end of the night. I got to be God's vocal chords.

What a ride.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Out of the Rut

I was late for church on Sunday. For most people, that may not be a cause for alarm; when you are one of the pastors, well...

My tardiness was due to the infernal Daylight Saving Time. It is Daylight Saving - there is no 's' on the end, although most people will place it there because it sounds better, I think. Benjamin Franklin dreamed up DST so that people could take advantage of an extra hour of daylight during the summer months. Many people 'waste' that hour of sunrise, he said, so why not move that hour where it can be put to best use.

His encouragement would be to have people go outside, breathe the fresh air, play with kittens - I don't know - whatever people would do if they could stay outside an extra hour in the sun. In recent decades, DST has been kept continually to conserve energy; less lights used - less energy consumed; it all adds up to good stewardship of resources. But frankly, it leaves me baffled. Originally, the first thinkers of DST wanted to add 20 minutes every Sunday in April and subtract twenty in September. Imagine how that actually could have been accomplished. Half the people would be twenty minutes late for everything. Ah, now I understand what happens on Sunday mornings!

I don't like DST; but my ire is not as great as my wife's who loves to sleep in in the morning. A night owl, she is, and staying up late and arising late is the pattern, the rhythm that works best for her. We do develop our own patterns and ruts that correspond to the endless circling and spinning around the sun. And when those patterns of life are interrupted, it is a jarring slap to the face. And, if we don't adapt to the corresponding newness of time, we will miss something very important (in my case, worship).

In the book of Mark, the first chapter, Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan river - then, he is led by the spirit out into the wilderness where it seems that he is brought to the realization that life from this point on will be much different. His baptism and subsequent testing are a preparation for his true life's work which he tells all of Israel in John 10, "For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down and I have power to take it up again. This command I have received from my Father."

Jesus' directive is to lay down his life for the all the sheep of the world and in this wilderness experience, in his testing, he finds the strength and power to understand the will of God. He is, I would think, jarred to his soul. The first thing he does after is his baptism is to go speak to the people. His first thought is to speak about the good news which is this, 'The Time is come (in other words, daylight saving has come; a new era of light has come into the world.) and the kingdom of God has come near! Repent and believe in the good news!"

The light has come into the world! Wake up! Don't miss it! Don't be sleepy while waiting for the savior. Wake up or the kingdom of God might pass you by (and for my own reference, the kingdom of God is not necessarily a place, but the person of Jesus).

But how is it that we wake up? How do we shake off the grogginess of the patterns of behavior that we are locked into? How do we scrape the sleep out of our eyes and climb out of the ruts that hold us entrenched?

Jesus says, "Repent." I think in many cases repent has become a very negative word. It usually is brought forth with a great pointing of the finger, a tongue wagging, someone much holier than me who looks at my sin, neglecting his or her own and shouts in my face, "Sinner! Repent! Say you're sorry for your sin!" My response is to look into to his or her eye and stare at the log that is jammed in it and turn back to myself. This pejorative interpretation of the word 'repent' has turned thousands of people away from Christianity and woefully caused a great amount of anxiety in a world longing to believe but one that can only see hypocrisy.

Jesus word, and the focus of his message, "Repent," is in the most positive sense. Repent means to turn back from the things that would cause you to miss the light that is rising. Turn away from that which hinders your ability to have life and to have it abundantly. 'Repent' is not just asking for forgiveness but acting as if you have been forgiven!

But we must also remember that we can never take Jesus words out of the continual sense of community that belongs in the body of Christ. When Jesus says repent, he is not talking to each person individually, but to the whole community. What we must always remember is that each one of our sins affects other people. We cannot isolate ourselves - insulate our lives - beyond the margins of life together. Thievery, adultery, coveting, killing - never affect only the person who succumbs but those who are injured. "Repent!" Jesus says - turn away from those things - live together in community - live together in life abundantly. Repentence is more about my neighbor than it is about myself. For the body to be healthy, the parts need to be holy.

And then believe in the good news. The light of the world has risen. Bask in it; breathe it in. Frolic in the freedom of an extra hour. Repent, not in the guilt of sinning, but in the loosening of the yoke - the weight is taken upon him whose burden is light. Believe this good news.

The Kingdom of God is near! Get out of the rut! Repent!

The Pit

In the beginning was the pit. Yesterday, I did something I hadn't done in a quarter century. To be entirely frank, that quarter century ...