August 15, 2013 · 3:09 pm

Every morning I build my own little Tower of Babel

tower of babel

Gustave Doré, found at http://www.textweek.com Art Index. Click on the picture for more from the artist

I held my daughter.  I crawled into her bed, and wrapped her up in may arms.  She nestled deeper into me.  I smelled her hair and kissed her soft cheek.  She took my hand, and pulled it under her head like a pillow.  The alarm clock flashed 6:30, but time stood still.  I prayed, thanking God for this moment.  I paused, And allowed. Myself. To. Stop. Breathe.  Deeply.  She was safe in my arms, and there was no reason for either of us to ever get up.

It would have been so easy to just remain there.  She was safe and warm, and as long as I could keep her there in my arms, nothing bad could happen to her. As soon as I whispered into her ear, “It’s time to get ready for school,” I would lose my grip.  As long as I held her there she would come to no harm.  She couldn’t have an accident.  She couldn’t stub her toe, or burn her hand, or get hit by a car.  No one could hurt here there.  No one would call her stupid or make fun of her shirt.  No one could exclude her from a game or break her heart.  We lay there together, drifting in and out of sleep, and there was no reason at all for us to rise.  Except for one: Babel.

The Tower of Babel story is found in the 11th chapter of Genesis.  The first 11 chapters are generally recognized as a separate section within Genesis.  Walt Brueggemann refers to it as the “Pre-History.”  Terrence Fretheim calles Genesis 1:1-11:26 the “Primeval Story.”  This section of Genesis includes the two creation stories, the first sin and expulsion from the Garden, the murder of Abel, and Noah and the flood.  These are the foundational stories of God and the people God created.  It is a myth in the sense that it is a story that explains why things are the way they are.  And like all myth, the truth of the story does not lie in the facticity of the events, but rather in the meaning we draw from it about God and God’s created people.

The story goes like this:

All people on the earth had one language and the same words.  When they traveled east, they found a valley in the land of Shinar and settled there.  They said to each other, “Come, let’s make bricks and bake them hard.” They used bricks for stones and asphalt for mortar.  They said, “Come, let’s build for ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the sky, and let’s make a name for ourselves so that we won’t be dispersed over all the earth.”

Then the LORD came down to see the city and the tower that the humans built.  And the LORD said, “There is now one people and they all have one language. This is what they have begun to do, and now all that they plan to do will be possible for them. Come, let’s go down and mix up their language there so they won’t understand each other’s language.”  Then the LORD dispersed them from there over all of the earth, and they stopped building the city.  Therefore, it is named Babel, because there the LORD mixed up the language of all the earth; and from there the LORD dispersed them over all the earth. (Genesis 11:1-9, Common English Bible)

Beyond the simplistic questions about historical accuracy, there are deeper theological truths that can be found from this story.  There are also troubling questions about the nature of God that rise quickly from the scattered remains of the people.

The main question is, “Why did God do that?”  It seems like a strange God that is in action here.  “There is now one people,” God declares.  This kind of unity sounds like a good thing.  In a world beset with division, barriers, walls, and wars, a united people sounds like a wonderful place to work toward, not a troubling situation that needs to be fixed.

The common interpretation of this passage is that the sin of the people was hubris.  Many see the problem to be the grandiose plans. The sky, they say, is no place for humans, but instead is the realm of God. The sin of the people was to make themselves too high, and to try to compete with God.  To understand the sin of Babel though, we must look closer at the motivation for the tower, and go back a little farther in human history.  The people state the mission of the tower is to “make a name for ourselves, so that we will not be dispersed all over the earth.”

The Tower would be a source of pride and strength.  A tower is an important part of any settlement.  The Tower draws travelers for trade.  Conversely, it helps detect invaders from a distance.  It provides a strategic advantage for defense, and serves as an economic hub.  The Tower is an important ingredient in protection, safety, and settlement.  The people knew that the tower will keep them from being scattered.  These things do not, on the surface, appear to be troubling.

It is no more troubling than laying in bed in the morning with the one you love more than anything in the world, and deciding to stay there forever.  Protection, safety, and settlement are not necessarily vices, but they are not innately virtuous either.

A look back at the beginning of the Pre-History reveals to us the problem with the Tower.  Look at the first creation story.  The work of God was started to create order and life out of chaos and emptiness.  This creative work culminates in Genesis 1:27-28, where God not only creates humans, but gives us mission in the world.

“God created humanity, in God’s own image, in the divine image God created them, male and female God created them.

God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fertile and multiply; fill the earth and master it. Take charge of the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, and everything crawling on the ground.'” (Genesis 1:27-28, Common English Bible)

God said, “Be fruitful and multiply.  Fill the earth and master it.”

The sin of Babel was disobedience.  Moreover, the people were creating their mission.  God gave them a purpose, and they were refusing to act.  The languages then, were not given as a punishment.  The languages were given to people to help them get the job done.  Not the job they intended, but the job God had given them.  What has often been seen as a curse is actually God empowering the people to do what they would not do on their own.  With this nudge, the Scriptures tell us that the people scattered.  They fulfilled their mission, were fruitful and multiplied.

I understand the sin of Babel, and I understand the gift as well.  I thank God every day for giving me those nudges.  Time and again I have thought to myself, “I’m settled.”  It seems like every time, God is there, confusing my language, pushing me to a new adventure, a new relationship, or a new mission.

Every morning I wake my daughter up to get her ready for school, I build my own little tower.  I crawl into bed with her and wrap her in my arms and want so badly to keep her from being scattered.  Every time I whisper into her ear, “Honey, it’s time to get ready for school,” I break the tower down.  It is one of the hardest things I do.

Settlement and safety are not inherently bad things, but anything that works against God’s mission for the world must be worked through.  It is so tempting to hold her and never let go.  It would be so easy to keep her in my own Tower, but in trying to protect her, I would be hurting only her.

God has great plans for her.  I’m not sure what they are, but who am I to get in her way?  Who am I to ignore God’s calling on her life?  She is made to love, to share kindness, to work for justice.  She, as she has said, “was born to dance.”  No one can dance with their Daddy weighing them down.  So I help her to get ready.  I send her out in the world equipped as best I can.

I kiss her goodbye, go upstairs and wake up her little sister.  Maybe I can stay in the tower a little longer with her today.

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August 9, 2013 · 3:56 pm

Rape prevention check list

I am the father of two daughters.  They are young now, but I hope that someday soon they will go to college.  At college, there are often safety tips.  I remember hearing them when I was a college student.  There will be warnings of the dangers of alcohol abuse.  There will be warnings about walking alone on campus, about finding yourself alone in someone else’s room, and even about how to dress.  The vast majority of these warnings will be directed toward girls, warning them of the ways that they can prevent themselves from being raped.

There are various statistics about the prevalence of rape on college campuses.  A quick google search put the number of women that are victims of rape or attempted rape at anywhere between 1 in 50 and 1 in 4.  The truth likely lies somewhere in between.  “Rape Culture” on college campuses seems to be growing, as evidenced by the recent debate that Daniel Tosh sparked when making “rape jokes.”  Much of the problem has lied with college administrations that are unwilling to punish, or sometimes even investigate, men accused of rape.  Notre Dame’s football program was one such case that gained noteriety, but activists across the country have been raising their voices.\

So I decided I would chip in.  I came up with this list of “Rape Prevention Tips For College.”  I think this is almost 100% fool-proof.

1. Don’t rape anyone.

2. If you go out on a date with someone, don’t rape her.

3. If there is a girl at a party, and she is dressed very sexy, don’t rape her.

4. If you are with a girl that has had way too much to drink, don’t rape her.

5. If you see a girl, and she is passed out; walk by her, or help her get home, or find her friends.  Don’t rape her.

6. If, at any time, you are unsure if what you are doing is rape, then stop doing that, immediately.

Maybe it is time that we start teaching men at college that raping someone isn’t okay.  Every girl that gets drunk is not looking for sex.  Every girl that wears a mini skirt isn’t waiting for you to get into it.  Should women avoid dangerous situations? Sure.  I will teach my daughters to be smart.  I will likely get them to a Girls Fight Back seminar someday, where they will learn to defend themselves.  I will teach my daughters to protect themselves.

As a father of two girls, I will do my part.  I will do my best to teach my girls to respect themselves.  But its not all on me, or on them.  You fathers of boys need to step up too.  Teach them, in no uncertain terms, that it is not okay to rape.  You teach them not to lie.  You teach them not to cheat.  You teach them lots of things.  You may be squeamish about it.  It might be an uncomfortable topic, so I provided you with this list to help.  Learn it.  Live it.

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August 8, 2013 · 4:26 pm

Bullets on the Tennis Court, or Mission trip to East St. Louis, part 1

Lessie Bates Davis logoThere was a bullet on the tennis court.  Not a spent shell. A fired bullet. Among the mess of leaves, sticks, and broken glass, one of our youth reached down and picked it up, looked at it for awhile then said, “I found a bullet.”  I knew right away he wasn’t joking.  I looked at the little cone-shaped piece of metal.  I don’t know enough about guns and ammo to know anything about its caliber, what weapon it was fired out of, or any details.  There was probably something else we could have done with it, but all I said was, “throw it away.”  So he tossed it in the garbage bag and we went about our business of cleaning up the tennis courts at Lincoln Park in East St. Louis, Illinois.

We were a group of nine youth and three adults.  Some were inside the Mary Brown Center, working with some kids from the neighborhood.  Most of us were outside sweeping.  It was unseasonably cool for late July in Saint Louis.  It was a gray morning, and we were looking for something to do.  Miss Terry had told us that the tennis courts were unusable because of all the broken glass, so we decided to try and sweep it up.  We had some rakes, brooms, trash bags, and a dust pan.  We raked the sticks, leaves, and grass into big piles and swept the broken glass into the dustpan.  Even when we were joined by about a dozen youth from the neighborhood, most working for a few dollars an hour, we realized there was no way we were going to clean up the courts entirely.  By the time we finished though, I would have felt a lot better about kids playing there, as long as they had good shoes on.

Of course, it was entirely possible that once the sun went down, the park would be filled with young people with nothing better to do than throw their empty bottles into the courts.  Miss Terry hoped though, that the presence of people cleaning it up would discourage them.  We could hope.

The first day of the mission trip did not go exactly as we had planned.  We had planned to show up at the Mary Brown Center at 8:15 so we had plenty of time to set up our version of Vacation Bible School for the 25-30 seven to nine year old kids that would arrive at 9:00 a.m.  We had planned to spend the two hours with them in neatly divided groups so we could have 20 minute sessions of worship, devotion, Spanish, art, dance, and closing worship.  We had planned to stay to do some other kind of chores around the center until having lunch, and then going about the rest of our day in Saint Louis.  They say that if you want to give God a good chuckle, tell him your plans.

The Mary Brown Center is a part of Lincoln Park. The geodesic dome houses a beautiful gymnasium. The Center is also home to most of the youth programs of the Lessie Bates Davis Neighborhood House.

The Mary Brown Center is a part of Lincoln Park. The geodesic dome houses a beautiful gymnasium. The Center is also home to most of the youth programs of the Lessie Bates Davis Neighborhood House.

On the first morning drive to the Mary Brown Center, I got turned around.  I took the wrong exit after crossing the bridge.  I read the map, but the streets I wanted to drive did not go through.  After a process that included about four u-turns, our two minivans arrived at the Center at about 8:50.  We were welcomed graciously by Miss Terry.  She gave us a quick tour of the facility.  There are two main sections of the Center.  There is the beautiful domed structure that houses an immaculate gymnasium, and there is the education wing, home to a computer lab, a youth room, a dining room, offices, and a larger room with tables for seating and table games.

During the tour she told us about the pool, which would be opening for the first time in five years, and the tennis court, which despite having the money set aside for new nets, rackets, and balls, was unusable because it was covered in broken glass.  We unloaded the vans, started setting up our stations, and waited for the kids to start coming.  At about 9:30, there were about four kids.  That’s when I asked Miss Terry what else we could do.  I thought of trying to clean up the courts.

Some stayed inside with the kids that came, and as the morning went on a few more trickled in, and others swept the courts.  That is when I felt the futility of what we were trying to do.  We were invading this space, not sure of our place, unsure of our role, wondering what the mission of this trip was really going to be.  We had all the right plans, but the reality of the situation weighed heavily on my heart.  And then we found the bullet.

“What the heck are we doing here?” I wondered.  Then I kept sweeping.  I could pick up glass, and if that was all I was meant to be doing, then I was going to do it well.  We worked for about an hour and a half.  When we left, there were still young people sweeping in the courts.  There were others outside the fences, laughing at those that were foolish enough to pick up a broom.  Later I talked to our youth about the courage it took to remain there while their friends taunted them.  We agreed that those that remained there to clean up their park were among the bravest people we had ever met.

To Miss Terry’s enormous credit, she sat down with us for awhile before we left and taught us about what the Lessie Bates Davis Neighborhood House was all about.  She told us about her struggles as a community leader.  She told us about the kids on the corner with no hope.  She told us about the adult leaders that give their time and their energy so that they did not have to lose another kid to the street.  When I asked her, “What do you mean by lose them?” I knew that the only answer anyone needed was that bullet we found on the tennis court.

Part 1 – “Bullets on the tennis court.”

Part 2 – “You were made in the image of God”

Part 3 – “Not ‘goodbye,’ just ‘See you later.'”

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August 8, 2013 · 2:05 pm

Slow Cooker Pulled Pork

I’ve shared some recipes on this blog before, but I thought I’d go with a full-blown food blog here.  I have been making slow cooker pulled pork for a few years.  I use lean pork, and add a little bit of brown sugar, but really it is a pretty healthy meal.  I started this with two two-pound pork loin roasts because they were on sale at my butcher.   Four pounds of pork is a lot, but the result is great for leftovers.  This meal fed three adults, four kids, and there were leftovers for four more adult lunches.

The ingredient list is pretty simple:

4 pounds pork loin
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup ketchup
1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
Spice Rub (I used my own mix that is roughly equal parts onion powder, garlic powder, chili powder, and kosher salt,  with smaller doses of ground black pepper, cinnamon, paprika, and a touch of cayenne.  I would have used more cayenne, but knew I was feeding kids).
1 medium yellow onion
1 tablespoon minced garlic.
2 tablespoons of liquid smoke (optional)
2 tablespoons of tomato paste (I used up my tube.  This amount is not that important.  If you want to use a whole little can, that will be fine)
Canola or olive oil (enough to saute onion)
Kosher salt and crushed black pepper.

I started by turning on the slow cooker.  I’m not sure where, but a long time ago I read you should put hot things into a hot slow cooker and add cold things into cold slow cooker.

Slow Cooker Pork, step 1Mince the onion, and add the minced garlic.  I use only fresh garlic for sauces and gravies, but for things like this, the little jar of minced garlic is a great addition to the refrigerator.  The onions and garlic were then sauteed in a skillet.  I let them get pretty translucent before shifting them into the warmed-up slow cooker.Slow Cooker Pork, step 2

Then I turned up the heat of the frying pan and rubbed the pork pretty generously with the spice rub.  I made my own spice rub and keep it in a little plastic container, but there are tons of marketed spice rubs on the market.  Most of them are mixtures of garlic, onion, and chili powder.

Slow Cooker Pork, step 3Once the pan was pretty hot, I added the loin to the pan.  Brown the meat on all sides.  Let it get brown, not gray.  To do this the pan needs to be pretty hot.  That carmelized meat will add texture and flavor to the pulled pork.

Slow Cooker Pork, step 4I did not scrape every last piece of onion out of the skillet, and that’s okay.  They will get cooked a lot more in this process.  After the meat was browned, I transferred it to the slow cooker.  Lower the heat on the skillet, and add the apple cider vinegar. Deglaze the pan, scraping any bits off it is you stir. Then add the liquid to the slow cooker. Dump in the brown sugar, the liquid smoke, ketchup, and tomato paste. Give it a rough mixing, and set the slow cooker to low, 6 or 8 hours. The liquid should cover about half of the meat at this point.

Slow Cooker Pork, step 5

After about two hours, turn the meat over so the dry side is in the liquid.

Slow Cooker Pork, step 6

After another two hours, take the meat out and cut it into about six big pieces.
Slow Cooker Pork, step 7

About half an hour before serving, shred the meat. I used my tongs. I jabbed the big piece with the closed tongs, then opened the tongs. You can do this to the big pieces, and use forks for smaller pieces. If the meat has been cooking for almost 6 hours, this should not be difficult. I’ve also been told you can shred the meat by putting it in a mix-master with the bread hook.

Slow Cooker Pork, step 8

Let the shredded stuff cook for a little while longer. You can serve it alongside your favorite jar of barbecue sauce, or eat as is. I also recommend some hot giardineira peppers or spicy pepperoncini peppers.

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August 7, 2013 · 2:58 pm

A prayer for the scariest room in the school

Students and teachers are preparing to go back to school.  For many students, the cafeteria is a terrifying place.  I created this prayer for those that will be searching for seats in the coming weeks.  Share this, especially with young people you know.  If they are anxious, let them know that people are praying for them.  If they are not, then remind them of how it feels to not know where to sit.  Hopefully they can show kindness in the coming weeks to someone that needs it.

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Cafeteria Prayer

 

If you would like to use it in worship, feel free (though I would appreciate an attribution somewhere in the bulletin).

 

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August 5, 2013 · 4:32 pm

To love another person is to see the face of God

Les-MiserablesI have seen Les Mis live four times, including yesterday afternoon. The first three times were on grand stages in Peoria, Saint Louis, and Chicago with touring Broadway casts. It is a story of grace and salvation that needs to be told, and it is a story that my heart longs to hear over and over.  Seeing Les Mis is a sacramental experience for me.  It at the same time convicts and uplifts me.  It reminds me of the stark cruelty of the world and of the sublime beauty that lies within us. The music, the power, the triumph, and emotion of it is something I crave like a cold glass of milk after an oreo.

Every time I see it, I have to resist the urge to sing along for the sake of those sitting next to me.    Every time I see it,  I laugh at the Thenardiers raunchy jokes.  Every time I see it, I shed a tear for the plight of Fantine and bristle at the cruelty of the world.  Every time Is see it, I am inspired by Valjean’s integrity, and lament Javert’s misplaced idea of duty. The tears have come every time that Gabrach is shot, and I ache for Eponine as she sings “On My Own,” as I remember the unrequited loves of my own youth.  They come again when Eponine dies, and I hang on the director’s decision to let them kiss before her last breath or not.  Since having daughters of my own, the tears have found new outlets, like when young Cosette begs to not go into the dark.  They come strongest now when Valjean sings “She was never mine to keep,” as he sees Cosette and Marius wed.

Every time I see it, I leave emotionally exhausted.  Yesterday afternoon was no exception.  The performance I witnessed was not as polished or grand as the others that I have seen.  The actors were not Broadway stars, and the stage and set was not in a world class theater.  It was in a re-purposed building, with simple costumes, a sparse set, and young actors.  Yes, young actors.  The oldest performers were 16.

centerI saw Les Mis at the Center For Living Arts.  It was directed by Dino and Tina Hayz.  The cast had three weeks from their first rehearsal to their first showtime.  In those three weeks, the rehearsed five days a week for 8 hours a day.  The youth at The Center are talented, but the show was not great because they blew me away with their singing.  The show was great because they poured themselves into it.  They captured the emotion and the passion that is needed to pull off a show as big as Les Mis.

Though I cringed a few times because of the adult-oriented themes, like when the brilliant Madame and Master  Thenardier sang their raunchy songs, or when the cast of young teenagers sang “Lovely Ladies,” there was something about their raw youth that made it even more real.  The performance of “I Dreamed a Dream,” by a very young Fantine was one of the best performances of that song I have ever seen.  I realized that the young girl singing was probably about the same age as a “real” Fantine would have been.  The harsh truth is that many of the sexual slaves of the era – and even today – are but young teenagers.  The youthful exuberance of the students in the taverns, willing to die for their cause took on a higher level of tragedy.  The love story of Cosette and Marius seemed more authentic than usual, as I’ve always felt the love-at-first-sight story seemed a little contrived when it was adults playing the roles.  Eponine’s “On My Own,” was as emotional as any I’ve witnessed as it was sung with a forlorn wistfulness than only a teenager can make believable.

By the time the whole cast came out to sing the finale, I was ready to stand and join them beyond the barricade.  The final vision, which is the Kingdom of God where even Javert can find the redemption he was never able to offer, is one that puts goosebumps on my arms and fills me with hope.   As I watched the group of young people stand and sing, I was filled with awe.

I have worked with Dino and Tina before.  I have witnessed what they can do with people with willing hearts.  All I can say about them is that they work magic.  Absolute magic.

Les Mis has long been my favorite musical.  Miss Saigon has always been my second-favorite.  I heard that the Center is considering it for next summer.  It will be an even taller task than Les Mis, but I can already see the Master of the House as The Engineer.  If anyone can pull it off, it is Dino and Tina.

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July 5, 2013 · 4:26 pm

The anatomy of a backslide

y intersectionThis feels like a crucial moment.  Right now.  I feel as if I’ve reached a crossroads.

For the last 16 months I have experienced a spiritual and physical transformation.  From January 2012 through June 2013 I lost 80 pounds.  By paying closer attention to what I ate, and dramatically increasing my exercise, I transformed my body.  I went from size 44 pants to having some 38 pants feel big.  My XXXL t-shirts now look like garbage bags on me.  My doctor stopped my cholesterol medicine.  My blood pressure has gone down.  According to this chart, my resting heart-rate is “Excellent.”  As I have undergone this physical transformation, I have also experienced a spiritual renewal.  My writing, preaching, and prayer life improved.  I found new energy, focus, and drive.  I discovered my mission statement to Love God, Live Well, and Do Good.

My work at church blossomed with new relationships, avenues of ministry, and a vision to create a new participatory worship experience.  My blogging life expanded with the launching of the Pulpit Fiction podcast.  I was invited to speak at the Lion and Lamb Festival, and I felt a need to open a FP Shop.

As I got my personal discipline in order, it felt as if all the other pieces were falling into place as well.  People started asking me if I was going to change the name of this blog.  I kept the name for various reasons.  I never considered that one reason might have been the unconscious fear that this was all temporary.

The world of weight loss and fitness is littered with stories of people losing weight, transforming their bodies, saving their very lives, only to backslide. Many people have shared stories with me about their own adventures in yo-yo weight loss.  I promised myself that it would not happen to me.   Last summer I had an extended plateau.  This was expected.  After losing about 30 pounds in three months, I spent the summer months gaining 2 pounds.  When school started in the fall, I rededicated myself to working out and tracking my calories, and I promptly lost another 40.  When I reached my first goal weight of 260, I kept going.  At the end of the school year, I dipped under 250.

Then the backslide started. This is how it happened:

The school year ended, disrupting my routine.  During the school year, my workout time was built into my day.  I dropped my daughter off at school, I went to the gym, then I went to work.  Four days a week I had a built in date with the gym.  I ran three days a week for nine months. As I approached my first 10-mile race at the end of May, I was running about 15 miles a week.

Annual Conference and Vacation Bible School.  In addition to the lack of routine, I had two major events disrupt my whole schedule.  These two week-long events in June took up an inordinate amount of my time.  I could have gotten to the gym before sessions.  I could have gone for runs after VBS.  I didn’t.  Instead I spent two weeks active, but with virtually no cardio vascular exercise.

I stopped tracking.  Lose It! is a great tool for counting calories, but it is a pain.  My weight loss started almost immediately after using it.  Last summer I stopped using it for awhile, and stopped losing weight almost immediately.

I didn’t gain weight.  After two weeks of not working out and not using Lose It, and amazing thing happened.  I actually dropped a couple of pounds.

At the Railroad Days 5K, I placed second in my age group with a time of 26:28.

At the Railroad Days 5K, I placed second in my age group with a time of 26:28.

I ran fast.  Since June 1, I’ve run four times.  One of those runs was a 5K that I finished in 26:28, my personal best.  I also won a prize for my age group in that race, a first for me.  I ran another 5K on the treadmill this week in about 26:30.  It turns out that my fitness level is at a place that it could sustain a short break.

The Fourth of July.  Two cookouts.  Lots of bratwurst, chips, baked beans, creamy cole slaw, chips, cookies, pop, beer, and chips.  Did I mention that I ate a lot of chips in the last week?

The combination of events created in me a sense of complacency.  After almost a year and a half of changing habits, it took about four weeks for me to slip.  This morning I found that I have gained 10 pounds in the last two weeks.  What’s worse than the weight is how I feel.  For the first time in months, I feel fat.  I feel tired.  I feel like making bad choices.  I feel like staying home is easier than going for a run.  I feel like getting a quarter-pounder is better than making myself a grilled chicken salad.  I put off getting up early to get to the gym.  I put off tracking my food, and working hard to stay under budget.  I put off working on refocusing the mission of this blog.  I put off planning a new way to experience worship.  I put off trying to change the world and settled for less.  It has only been a couple of weeks, but it ends today.

I share this because I’ve been told I inspire people.  I am constantly humbled when people say that to me.  Today I offer not inspiration, but a warning.  Backsliding happens.  It happens slowly, sometimes imperceptibly.  It happens when we get busy, or when routine gets disrupted.  It happens even when we’re feeling fine, and all outwards signs indicate everything is going well.

Right now I’m struggling.  I’m tired.  I’m a little worried.  Yet I never thought this would be easy.  I’m not ready to give up now.  I’m not going back to the person I was, for I have been made new by the power of the Holy Spirit.  I’m confessing my weakness, and I’m praying for guidance and endurance.  I believe God can still use me despite my recent backslide.  God’s still working on me.  God and I have new goals and a new plan.  Today, right now, I have a new chance to love God, live well, and do good.

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June 12, 2013 · 5:10 pm

My first Father’s Day gift came years before I was a Dad

I’ve been given a lot of Father’s Day gifts over the years.  I’ve gotten shoes, books, a basketball, shirts, and pictures.  When I was in eighth grade, I got a phone for my room.  This might sound strange.  Not many eighth graders get Father’s Day presents.  I remember once telling a friend about the gift my Dad gave me for Father’s Day, and he was confused.  My Dad always gave my sister and brother and me gifts for Father’s Day.

“Being a Father is the best thing that ever happened to me,” he would explain to us.  “And I couldn’t be a Father if it wasn’t for you.”  Although that was only technically true of my sister (his first born), I never argued the point.  The message was clear, and it was one that I don’t think I truly grasped until I was a father myself.  Becoming a father is the best thing that ever happened to me.

I am the father of two girls, and I adore them.  Their laughter is beautiful music.  Their smiles are the greatest of masterpieces.  Their imagination is mind-boggling.  Their dance is breath-taking.  I savor every moment that we are together.  They make me want to be a better person.  I want to give them everything.  On this Father’s Day, I want to give them a gift.

This year though, I’m not going to give them a doll or a toy.  I’m not going to give them a book or a Blackhawks t-shirt.  I’m going to give their gift to someone else, and they are compassionate enough to understand.  Instead of giving to them, I am going to give to other daughters, because everytime I look at my daughters, I can’t help but see the future.

I dream of my daughters growing up in safety and health.  I dream of them getting educated, finding their talents, discovering their gifts.  I dream of them making lasting friendships and falling in love.  I see tremendous giftedness in both of them, and my most important role as a father is to help them see and develop these gifts for themselves.  My dream for them is to fulfill who they were created to be.  My dreams for their future are a luxury that I will never take for granted.

My dreams for their futures are a luxury that most fathers in the world cannot afford.  For most daughters of the world, safety, dignity, education, and health are unattainable dreams.  So my gift to my daughters on this Father’s Day is to the daughters of the world.  My gift this Father’s Day is a word of encouragement.  It is a word of awareness.  It is a call to action.

Maternal health is not a women’s issue.  It is a global concern.  For millions of women, giving birth is the most dangerous thing they will ever do.  Motherhood should be a gift of life, but far too often it is a death sentence.  In many places in the world, women are valued for little more than giving birth.  They are treated as a walking uterus, to be valued if they give birth, and thrown away when or if they cannot.  Girls are forced into motherhood too soon, when it is biologically possible but anatomically dangerous.  They are not allowed to rest and heal between pregnancies.  They have little access to contraception.  If pregnant, health care is difficult to find, and often impossible to afford.  And postpartum care is not even on the RADAR for most.

My faith does not let me standby and allow this to happen.  Jesus raised the widow’s son because he had compassion for her.  He healed the woman that was bleeding for 12 years, returning her to a life fully integrated into the community.  He invited the women to learn at his feet, alongside the men.  He debated a foreign woman at the well, and exulted her faith.  Jesus believed that crazy notion that women are to be valued and treated with dignity and respect.

I believe the same, and so I am called by that same Jesus to do something.  I am called to give my daughters – and all daughters – a gift.

no woman no cry posterThings you can do:

  • Go to Healthy Families, Healthy Planet.  This initiative is funded by the United Nations Foundation, and housed by the United Methodist Church General Board of Church and Society.  On this useful website, there are fact sheets,  resources for worship, tips for hosting a panel discussion, and instructions on how to host a screening of the film, No Woman, No Cry.
  • Find or host a screening of the incredible film No Woman, No Cry, which tells the story of four women with at-risk pregnancies.  This is a touching, emotionally charged movie.  It is documentary film-making at its best.
  • Write to your Senators and Representatives, and tell them to support aid for international maternal health and family planning.  Supporting women’s health is the single most cost-effective form of aid that we can give.  Remember, Family Planning does not equal abortions.  Increased access and education about contraception can reduce the number of unwanted pregnancies, and reduce the demand for abortions. US Aid to International family planning efforts in 2012 provided contraception to 31 million families.  This helped prevent an estimated 9 million unintended pregnancies, and 4 million abortions.  Maternal health and family planning is Pro-Life. (source: the Guttmacher Institute)
  • Men, stand up and be heard.  Too many believe that maternal health is a woman’s issue.  In most of the world, men’s voices are the most influential in determining public policy and education.  If more men demanded that their daughters were taken care of, it would happen.  There are education programs being set up through developing nations teaching men about their role in family planning.  Stand up men, for your sisters, your mothers, and your daughters.  Do no take the dreams you have for them for granted.

Dads, give someone a Father’s Day gift.  Give a daughter hope for a future where she is not sold into slavery for her uterus.  Give a daughter hope for an education.  Give a daughter a dream for her future.  Give a daughter the gift of life, and life abundant.

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June 11, 2013 · 3:47 pm

Drafting hope

The 2013 baseball amateur draft finished this weekend.  1,216 young men were drafted, and 1,215 of them dream of playing for a Major League Baseball team someday.  They dream of running out onto a perfectly manicured green field, shagging fly balls out of the clear blue sky, swinging for the fences, and tipping their hat to the crowd.  Most of them will never make a big league roster, and still they dream.

One however, has no such aspirations.  The 34th round pick of the Arizona Diamondbacks was one of the top high school prospects in 2010.  He was drafted then by the San Diego Padres, but chose instead to attend college and play baseball for Arizona State University.  Cory Hahn played only three games for the Sun Devils.  In his third game he slid head first into second base.  During the play he collided with the second baseman, who was lunging for an errant throw.  Hahn’s head struck the second baseman in the knee, breaking Hahn’s C5 vertebrae.  The injury left Hahn paralyzed from the chest down.

Major League Baseball rules stipulate that players drafted out of high school have to wait three years to be drafted again.  When the Arizona Diamondbacks selected Hahn in the 34th round of the draft (Hahn wore number 34 at ASU), they were not drafting a five-tool player that would hit soaring home runs or make diving plays in the field.

Yet the draft was about more than a heart-warming publicity stunt.  Hahn has spent the last three years as a student coach at Arizona State.  In that time he has inspired many with his courage and tenacity.  The Diamondbacks plan to put him to work.

Diamonbacks President  Derek Hall told the Associated Press, “It’s not about us. It’s really about Cory and his family,” Hall added. “I was able to spend time with them right after the injury in his hospital room and he’s a wonderful kid. We want to make this permanent. We don’t want this to just be about the selection and him being a draft pick, but about him working in full-time employment with the Diamondbacks and hopefully we’ll make that come to fruition for he and his family here soon.”

I know a lot of people will be cheering for Hahn to make an impact for the Diamondbacks, even if it is never with a bat or glove.

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June 7, 2013 · 11:12 pm

Communion Liturgy lifting up Extravagant Generosity

The following is a Communion liturgy that I wrote for use at the opening worship service of the Illinois Great Rivers Annual Conference.  The service took place in Peoria, Illinois on June 5, 2013.  It was a great honor to be asked by my friend and colleague, Eric Swanson, to write this liturgy.  It was a great experience to be in worship with 1000 of my clergy and lay brothers and sisters to hear Rev. Jan Griffith and Bishop Jonathan Keaton read these words, even if there was a slight technical glitch.

 

The Lord of be with you

And also with you

Lift up your hearts.

We lift them up to the Lord.

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God, creator of heaven and earth, giver of all good gifts, and source of all blessings.

It is right to give our thanks and praise.

It is right and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Almighty God, creator of heaven and earth.  You formed us in your image and breathed into us the breath of life.

You created us man and woman in your image, and provided all that we would ever need.  You placed us in a garden to care for your creation so that we may know peace.

You delivered us from captivity.  Through days wandering in the desert you sent to us manna from heaven so that we could eat.  You let water pour from the rocks so that we could drink.  You commanded us to trust in what you provided, and warned us against hording.

You made covenant to be our sovereign God.  You gave to us the Law, the great gift that could guide our ways.  The Law commands us to honor the Sabbath, and to be satisfied with what we have.  Above all, the Law reminds us that there is but one God, and we are to love you with all of our hearts, our mind, our soul, and our strength.

You spoke to us through your prophets, who reminded us to care for the widow and the orphan.  They spoke the truth of your Word to the powers of the world, and stood up to injustice.  They raged against those that would gain wealth on the backs of the oppressed.  They commanded kings to follow God first.

And yet we fell away.  Our love failed.  We choose disobedience.    We try to horde the bread.  We pursue our own goals on the Sabbath.  We mock the Law.  We deny the prophets.  We forget your promises of plenty.  We ignore the needs of others so that we might protect our own interests.  We hold onto blessings with white knuckles, not trusting enough to let go.  Forgive us, O God, for the times that we have failed you.

 Hear the good news.  God’s love remains steadfast.   God’s Law is righteous.  God’s prophets still speak   the truth to power.  God’s promises endure.  God’s grace knows no bounds. Despite our sin and brokenness, God calls us to this table.  Even while we wander, God invites us to return.  Even while we cling to the things of this perishable world, God calls us to extravagant generosity.  In the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven.

In the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven. Thanks be to God, Amen.

And so, with your people on earth and all the company of heaven we praise your name and join their unending hymn:

Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory.  Hosanna in the highest.  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.  Hosanna in the highest.

Holy are you, and blessed is your Son Jesus Christ.  Your Spirit anointed him to preach good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty with those who are oppressed, and to announce that the time had come when you would save your people.

When no one thought there was enough, he fed the multitudes.  When no one thought the lepers could be healed, he cleansed them.  When there was no way to cross social boundaries, he talked to a Samaritan woman.  He told stories of a wasteful forgiveness, and unfair generosity.   When hope was lost, he raised the widow’s son and called Lazarus out of the tomb.   Here today, while we wonder if there is enough, Jesus reminds us that there is plenty.  There is enough food for all to be full.  There is enough water for us all to drink.  There is enough joy for us all to dance.  There is enough forgiveness for us all to embrace.  Here in this place, Jesus reminds us that there is enough love for us all to live abundantly.

By the baptism of his suffering, death, and resurrection you gave birth to your church, delivered us from slavery to sin and death, and made with us a new covenant by water and the Spirit. When the Lord Jesus ascended, he promised to be with us always, in the power of your Word and the Holy Spirit.

On the night in which he gave himself up for us, he took bread, gave thanks to you, broke the bread, gave it to his disciples and said: “Take, eat, this is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

When the supper was over, he took the cup, gave thanks to you, gave it to his disciples and said, “Drink from this, all of you; this is my blood of the new covenant, poured out for you and for many for forgiveness of sins.  Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”

And so, in remembrance of these mighty and generous acts in Jesus Christ, we offer ourselves in praise and thanksgiving as a holy and living sacrifice.  Let the generosity of Jesus, which enabled him to pour himself out for us, be embodied in all that we do.  May our every word and deed reflect a spirit of thankfulness for all with which we have been blessed, so that we may be in union with Christ’s offering for us, as we proclaim the mystery of faith.

Christ has died.  Christ is risen.  Christ will come again.

Pour out your Holy Spirit upon us gathered here, and on these gifts of bread and wine.  Make them be for us the body and blood of Christ; that we may be for the world the body of Christ, redeemed by his blood.  By your spirit make us one with Christ, one with each other, and one in ministry to all the world, until Christ comes in final victory and we may feast at his heavenly banquet.

Through your Son Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit in your holy church, all honor and glory is yours, almighty God, now and forever.  Amen.

 

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