Thursday, July 14, 2016

Out of Season

I was sitting n my front porch and noticed something odd. We have a magnolia tree that grows alongside the driveway. For the past two years in a row it has started to blossom like in past years. However, the weather being what it has been, a heavy frost hit and killed the normally beautiful and bright flowers.  The buds turned sickly brown and fell to the driveway below.

Yet, here I see something odd. In two different places within the upper limbs are two fresh buds growing. The pink and white striation piercing the dark green of the leaves. But, this isn't the season for this. This is not supposed to be the time for blossoming. Now is supposed to be the hazy mundane season of heat and rain allowing normal growth of the main trunks. Yet, there they are.

As I pondered I was taken to an odd piece of scripture.  During Jesus' final week, he walked past a fig tree while he was hungry. He found no figs on the tree, the writer pointing out that it was not the season for figs. Yet, even with the fact that it was out of season, Jesus still cursed the tree.

I understand the connection to be multilayered. The first is that we are entering into a new age whereby the normal rules for the normal seasons and predictable growth are no longer going to hold sway. The "church" has be so weighed down by man made rules and doctrine that e Spirit is no longer able to flow freely and this in the normal season the blossoms are no longer able to sustain. Instead the Spirit must move on his own terms and in His own time. He will call forth His fruit as He will. Those who are not alert and not able to flow with the shifting of this season will miss the harvest.

The other layer is that we are to be prepared in season and out of season to bear witness. As those bright colors contrasted with the dark green, so are we to be those bright colors as we allow the light of Christ to shine through us. Just because it does not "feel like" the right time, the right circumstance or he right season, these are excuses are not acceptable.  We are to be ready. 

We are in what hey call the post modern era. We are past the golden age of the Christian Church and mainstream denominationalism. We are in a new first century in which we, as Christian, are becoming less and less burdened by cultural acceptability and are instead moving into a new season as experienced by the first century church. A season in which the Spirit is able to flow as he wills. This is a potential time of Faith being raised up that will once again have the power to move mountains.  We need to watch and remain faithful.

The Grey

The Grey

So much talk about black and white
Polarized opinions
Pendulum swings of assumptions
Who's wrong who's right
Is just shades of grey

Seen a lot
Read even more
Explored and asked
Listened to reasons
Only to hear shades of grey

Wanted clear lines
Distinct judgments
And absolutes
Without variables
Yet they blended into shades of grey

Though there's a sense
And understanding of
Basic rights and wrongs
Knowing good n knowing evil
In the midst of the grey

Seeing the darkness
Seeing the light
Experiencing the good
Experiencing the fight
That takes place within he grey

Life framed by birth n death
Defined "in the dash"
A summation in short sentences
Anecdotes and quips
While here within he grey

Yet still I believe
Know in my knower
Blurred lines not easily visible
Yet able to be discerned 
Within the shades of grey

This purpose given 
A lighter shade 
Added to lighter shades
Dimming the darkness
Lightening shadings of grey

reality

What truly is real?
How can I trust what it is
now that I feel?
what has happened
what truth to be made known
so many questions
no where nearly enough answers

I seek n pray
asking for God to give some
advice
maybe that's the problem
looking for advice
like there are some options
always wanting to stay in control
is that my own
sense of reality
the illusion i can make it better

I've drifted far away
from time to time
found myself on a
stranger's shore
visiting for a bit
till my attention
He gets and
back to sea I roam

What is reality
that I may have a sense of the real
what is truth
what is it that will last
what is it that will last
When will it last

I keep circling round
asking of time and sense
what truly is real
what is left as illusion
could any of it be trusted
is it simply silky and slipping
the tighter the grip
the faster it slips,
slip slipping away

help me, please help me
pinch me if need be
let me know what is real
what is true
what is strong
what can't be moved
that I might stay
wandering no more
and not find myself
on a stranger's shore

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

messy things

So, pretty funny how much attention gets paid to numerous issues. In fact, it is sometimes rather surprising what people notice and what people do not notice. There are times when I have often have thought something was absolutely obvious and turns out no one noticed. Other times, I thought something was inconspicuous and it turns out that everybody noticed.

For example, I have allowed my facial hair to grow basically every year during the winter. It is a family tradition I recall from childhood. Men in the family were hunters and fishermen. The beards began in October and stayed through ice fishing until March/April. I usually wear a goatee anyways. The beard would often be kept closely cropped, but was there none-the-less. I thought it was obvious....until this past year.

This past year, I decided to give it freedom to grow without limits. The purpose to this was prophetic, basically. With many things, certain issues come out of my childhood. One of those things, that relates to this, is my need for close cut, very neat, items. For example, I once allowed my hair to grow and was able to get it to a point of a pony tail. Yet, as I look back, those days of having a ponytail included always pulling back all my hair as tight as possible. I used multiple levels of hair product in order to keep it from having any "fly aways" or extraneous curls. There is one picture I have of my hair being loose. It was wild, out there, completely untamed. I thought back on that day and if I recall correctly, my mood was similar to that; untamed, wild, a bit out there. Eventually, I had to cut my hair short. The amount of product combined with the tension I was putting on it in order to make sure it complied was causing breakage and balding.

I, being who I am, had to take it to the other extreme. So, for a time, I intentionally shaved my head. I liked to cleanness to the look. It was easy maintenance. With urging from others, though, I eventually grew it back and now maintain a closer cropped head of hair.

The Beard:

Many seemed to notice the beard more so this year. As I thought about it, I think I know why. The closeness of the cut I normally keep was less outstanding given normal men's fashion. I would go a couple of days between shaving even with the goatee--sensitive skin plus dulling razor equals breakouts. So, in the end it is far more reasonable that it is so noticed.

It is even more noticeable to me. As noted earlier, I have an issue with things not being in place. You wouldn't know it by my office, especially my desk, but lack of organization plays havoc on me. Yet, this year, the beard was allowed to grow as it would. I resisted the temptation to get it under control. I outlined the "flyers" to grow periodically grooming with comb or brush to bring them into something resembling unison. This would never last of course. Beards are beards. They grow without any sense of care for each other, the individual whiskers only caring for their self development and sustainability on the field of "face".  Talk about messy! The discord on my face was amazing.

Yet, let it grow I did. It continued to gain size and shape. Colors came through. Flyers grew out. Some whiskers came in straight. Others had varying degrees and directions of curl. Looking at it, I was going crazy. It was course. It was messy. It was a distraction. Until the day I allowed my perspective to be changed. I took a step back from a mirror and looked. The mess was less noticeable. I took another step backwards and another and another. Eventually, as I got a newer perspective, I was able to see that the mess was not as messy as I thought. There was shape to it. There was a sense of the way that it now had a purpose. Suddenly, the messiness wasn't gone, it was now purposeful. A whole new sense.

I continued to let it grow, and will do so until the end of March. I am now looking forward to next fall already when I reengage in the same "experiment".

So, what's the purpose?

The Church.

Yes, the Church. As I looked. As I pondered. I prayed. I sought what it might be that God might be saying. Though, not audibly, I know now what I heard. The Church looks messy when you put it under the microscope. There are places where it is "colored wrong". There are other places wherein the twists and turns fight against each other. It appears unruly as you compare one to another and expectations are in conflict with each other.

All too often, it seems that we approach the Church in the way that I too often approached my beard/hair. We label, have expectations, a desire to control and harsh reactions to that which we do not approve of. Yet, if we allow the quilt work of the church to be seen from our heavenly Father's perspective, this would all change. He does not see all the mess, or should I say, he is far less concerned with the mess, than he is with the overall effect. He sees the beauty of the widow putting the mite in the temple box. He also sees the beauty of the many streams of the church coming together for varied purposes. He sees the beauty of all those inconsistent hairs coming together to form one whole. This is the bride. This is his hope.

Conclusion: I need to back off from judging the messiness and allow myself to see through His eyes the beauty He sees. I have to let my sense of judgment be altered. I have to allow for a dramatic shift in perception. I have to allow my heart to become the same heart that Jesus has....please join me in doing the same

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Our Calling?

Yes, been a while......

This is a basic challenge to my priestly peers as well as a general shout out to the Priesthood of All Believers. Are you a shepherd or a pharisee?

I figure no gradual lead in. Let's just jump right in. After all, this speaks to so much of what we in the church are truly dealing with--a dangerous realization that faith levels have plummeted. Why? Maybe you don't care. Maybe you do care that your average Sunday attendance (ASA and the 'gold standard idol' of the Episcopal Church) is dropping. Maybe you don't.

Many years ago now I was sitting in Deacon's School on a Saturday afternoon. The teacher for the day was Arch Deacon Harvey Huth. He was expanding upon the understanding of shepherd as it related to the pastoral duties of our callings. He shared about growing up on a sheep farm. He talked about how you could always tell those who took care of sheep. How? Was it some convenient name tag with titles? Was it on their driver's licenses or non-driver's license id's? No....the way you could tell was a little more simple than that.

You could smell it.

He noted how, true shepherds, the ones who truly care for the flock, smell of that flock because of the time spent with them.  It did not matter the number of showers they took or how the clothes were washed or what they were washed in. There was always a certain smell that permeated everything. As a result, you can know the shepherds. And, as a result, you could tell the ones that were in it for show or only "part timers". They didn't carry the same level of scent to them.

This story has always stuck with me. Since the first time I heard it, it has sunk in and occasionally bubbles up to the surface again.

This morning, was one of the times.

You see, if we are truly called to be pastors, the same word in Greek also being shepherd, we are then probably going to smell like the sheep we tend. Does this frighten you? What might get in the way of this? How might others react?

To truly step up, as both a pastor and as part of the priesthood-of-all-believers, is going to require something of us that we may or may not be able to be overcome in a singular moment--we have to stop being afraid of hell.

Yes, I'm going there.

We need to stop being afraid of hell, the devil and the world.

When Jesus offered up his "high priestly prayer" in John 17, he asked that we not be taken out of the world, but that we no longer be a part of the world. He also, when Peter offered his confession of faith, Jesus said this (the confession of Jesus as the Christ and Son of God) would be the rock upon which he would build the church and, here's the kicker/gut punch/whatever you care to call it, the gates of Hell would not prevail against it.

Do gates move? Not that I'm aware of. Last I knew, gates are stationary. They sit and guard a stationary locale of a physical place. Even as a city might expand, the original gates still remain and new gates are merely added as the walls are expanded further and further out.

So, why would Jesus make these kind of statements regarding the gates of hell? Perhaps he had lost his mind for a moment? Or, perhaps, just maybe, Jesus was expecting the kingdom/the church, to move in such a way as to push against those gates? Ponder this for a moment. What does that mean for how we are to pastor our flocks? Behind closed walls in sanitized buildings with beautiful decorations? How does that push against the gates of hell? If anything, that allows hell even more building room.

I was trying to come up with some fancy way of articulating this. I am currently unable to. So, here it is in plain speak:

Our churches are failing because faith has been replaced with fear and pastors have been replaced with pharisees.

We fear the world and all that it has to offer. We fear pastoring those who may not be like minded or may struggle with numerous challenges that are "offensive" or maybe they are young and raw in their faith and this is something that feels prickly and uncertain. It raises anxiety and that anxiety bleeds out into the congregation and the congregation becomes more and more anxious. Rather than our focus being on introducing and cultivating a relationship with God, we focus on trying to create good church goers who will help out at the bazaar and give a good image to the local grocery store.

We don't smell like sheep. We smell like myrrh and fabric softener.

We seek uniformity rather than unity and, like the early Jewish counter parts, we teach the precepts of men rather than the word of God. How could I be so bold to proclaim this? Where in the bible does it say that men have to have short hair and women have to have long hair? Where does it say that a man should not have an earring? Actually, to that, the bible says the opposite. The levitical law included a provision for piercing the ear of a slave that did not want to leave his master's home.

My challenge to us, myself included, is to become more fully open to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Paul was driven to the gentiles and preached to them a strange new belief. They were not circumsised, ate crabs and munched on bacon. They did not follow any of the rules. Yet, he went boldly to them in order to share the message of the good news of Christ and the restoration of the relationship between Creator and creation.

Patrick went back into the very place in which he endured slavery in order to bring the good news. He did not stop their practices. He did not stop their songs. He did not stop their prayers. He offered to them the opportunity to turn these over to God. Thanksgiving prayers were given each more at the kindling of the fire. Now, rather than offering up that thanks to some other deity, they offered up the thanks they already had to the new light in their lives, the light of Christ. Celtic Christianity is filled with this. Patrick worked side by side with them in the fields, hauling wood, tending flocks, getting water, preparing meals, mending fences and roofs and all of the other day to day chores that went into life. Only when they would go to worship would they separate out.

We have sterilized our faith which has led to it losing all power and presence.

Brothers and sisters, it is time to begin walking by faith rather than hiding in fear. It is time for us to use our worship time as a time of refreshing only to empower us to more boldly spend the rest of the week in the world. How will they hear if no one is sent to them? How will they know that the love of Christ is available if the only thing they encounter in the world is our sneers and disdain for those who "are like we used to be"? How will they ever step foot into a church/worship service if all they know of it is how judged they already are on the outside of the building?

I have never ever seen one person successfully shamed into belief. I have never seen any one person sustain faith that is birthed in fear of hell (whether now or in the afterlife). I have seen time and time again that faith birthed out of desperation all too often fades when the pressure is taken off.

I have seen whereby someone comes to a different understanding of God as a result of my relationship with Him and with them.

Join me as I accept this challenge to live my faith boldly following the leading of the Holy Spirit unafraid of hell. After all, scripture says that He who is in me has overcome the world. The victory has been one. Time to stop living in fear of defeat.

God's peace and blessings to all.

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Lost the tune

So long having been lost
Expectations down to nothing
Never having tasted of the tune

Thoughts distantly dreaming
Of dancing n swirling
Arms wide n head back in utter abandon
But didn't have the tune

Glimpses of others
Gifted with freedom able to soar
Instead of sour jealously guarding 
That seemingly secret tune

Till the day chance stumbling upon it
Perhaps destined or purposes didn't much matter
I'ld found the tune

Now my time to dance with abandon
Love in the freedom no burden could take
Revelling  in that sacred tune

Dreams now probables
Hopes aren't just possibles
They hold a reality within the tune

Never noticed the clouds moving in
Failed to detect the fog with its bone chilling burden
That brought the fading of the tune

Instead simply dumb founded 
Or maybe dumb
As silence slipped between the notes
Of the tune

Till I listened with dread
The old stuff now clanging
Cacophony of noise without a tune

Where did it go how do I get there
Back to the place
I lost the tune


Saturday, September 27, 2014

Isolation

Isolation in crowded rooms
Self imposed rules 
With no origin or destination
Cut off from the crowd
Peering into empty black
Inky glistening off tear stained lashes
Knowing that no one
Or do they
Can they will they 
Questions best left unanswered
The twisting uncertainty of will over matter
The burdens magnified by their own substance
A quagmire of desperation leading only deeper
While crying so desperate with unheard whispers 
The matter doesn't nor ever did it
There is no real answer
Not now maybe ever
That point long since past
Searching for solid amongst 
Gelatin the illusion of substance
Only colored water that never freezes
Shifting and shimmering alluring 
Rainbows distracting 
Thoughts detracting 

And still sitting here all alone.