[wurd] of the week

contemplating the language of faith

Atonement sends out a weekly newsletter.  My contribution to this weekly publication is a column I call “wurd of the week: contemplating the language of faith.”  My goal is to take a church or theological word and make it less scary, more helpful in talking about faith.  I think people in the church do a lot of unintentional harm in the language we choose to try and describe this relationship we have with God.  As I learn this pastor thing and continue to talk about faith in a variety of settings, I do not want to contribute to throwing around words without thinking about what it is I’m saying, clearly.

So here I post the weekly words \wurds\ I choose to contemplate.  You’ll notice I draw inspiration from “Crazy Talk” edited by Rolf Jacobson of Luther Seminary.

This is the introduction I used for the wurd column:

I like words. I come from a family that likes words. We like to read them, write them, and of course, we like to speak them too.

Words matter. What we say matters. And as Christians, our tradition began first with the spoken word and now relies on the authority of the bible, written, read aloud, and preached. After all, we believe in the word made flesh.

Sometimes words related to church, God, faith, and religion look and sound scary. And since we’ve established that words do matter, I’ll do my best to root around in the meaning of a word and see if I can’t help shake the sting or the stink off of it. Even just a little.

vic·ar / [vik-er]

It seems fitting to start this column with looking at this word – my “title” for the year. I was often asked two questions when I told people I would be in Syracuse for my internship year as a vicar:

Question #1: “Where is Syracuse?”

Question #2: “What’s a vicar?”

A good friend of mine from MN said to me “I think being from Syracuse is like being born on Christmas: everyone gets all caught up in Christmas and your birthday gets lumped in with it.” I think she’s right. Most of us not “from here” think about NYC first and all the rest gets lumped in with it. Now I know better.

I could more easily answer question #1. I had to look up the definition for ‘vicar’ and found plenty of definitions connecting the term closely to the Catholic church. However, I found this definition that I like best: a person who acts in place of another; substitute.

In my worship class in seminary, we talked about the role of worship leader as one who serves in place of Christ to lead a community in worship of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Of course, this is also our role as Christians in this life – to be “little Christs” to one another, as Luther so wonderfully said.

So, thank you, Atonement Lutheran Church, for helping to broaden my vocabulary in “church speak.” Vicar has a nice ring to it.

atonement/ [uh-tohn-muhnt]

Did you know the name of this congregation is also the name of theological term that gets wrestled with and debated at length in seminary? And, if you think about it, it can be a difficult term to get your head and heart around fully.

If you break down the word, it gets at the center of what it means: “at-one-ment.” Through Christ’s death and resurrection, we are made one with God. Through the cross, we are at one with God. And don’t forget baptism! We are made one with Christ through the waters of death and baptism, where we die to our old lives and are raised to new life. There you go. Easy, right? Right.

Or maybe this will make more sense to you. In the words from the book, Crazy Talk edited by Rolf Jacobson, this is how atonement is described, tongue firmly in cheek:

“Sort of like attunement – the act by which the person next to you quits singing off pitch and gets in sync with the choir – atonement is the act of God by which God takes us, who are out of sync with both God and neighbor, and sets us right.”

 

/evangelical/ [ee-van-jel-i-kuhl]

It’s in the name of the very denomination we call Lutheran: Evangelical. But what does it mean? Do you picture Jerry Falwell, Joel Osteen, or Bill Graham? Does being evangelical involve being on television?

I suppose in a way, being evangelical is broadcasting the good news, whether you’re on tv or not. This word implies that we’ve got good news to tell. I know I’ve had some bad experiences where I’ve been on the receiving end of evangelizing. The evangelizer had the feel of a heavy-handed sales person, trying to get me into something I couldn’t really afford.

The good news is that we are loved unconditionally. We don’t need to take classes or follow a recipe card for how to evangelize. When we believe that we are loved by Jesus unconditionally, then we live this good news.

So instead of doing evangelism, we are evangelical. Because this is the good news that lives within us.

weal – [weel]: well-being, prosperity, or happiness

Did you spot this word in the reading from Oct 19^th? It was in Isaiah 45:7. It went like this: I form light and create darkness, I make WEAL and create woe; I the Lord do all these things.

Let’s just say that a concerned citizen, before worship, asked me if weal was a misprint. Perhaps it’s supposed to say REAL? Then we got to laughing and sounding like Tweetie Bird as we played with various pronunciations. “Is it weally a typo?”

No, it wasn’t a typo. In fact, I had looked up the word earlier in the week as I was reading the texts and preparing to preach. Isaiah is laying out just how singular God is: God creates light and dark. God makes you happy or sad. Only God can do these things.

And although the juxtaposition of weal and woe may cause us to cringe, this is the God of our life, the one who redeems us and loves us, who gives us new life through Jesus Christ.

Weally.

 

election –[ee-LEHK-shuhn]: God votes YOU in as a member of God’s family. (Congratulations!)

I’ll bet that word got your attention, didn’t it? November 4th will have come and gone by the time you read this article, so it’s time for a new view, a new attitude, about election.

God chooses us, elects us, to be members of God’s family. Although we may think we have a say in that, it’s really God who says “Hey you, yah YOU, I choose you. I love you.” The awesome thing about it is how free God is in doing this. Or maybe you’re frustrated about the way in which God does this because God chooses all kinds of people. If you look all the way back to Abraham and Sarah and counted all the times they gave up on God, God’s promises, and tried to do things themselves – well, they didn’t set the bar very high, did they.

Well, think of all the small and large ways you forget and neglect God’s promises in your life. Now remember that those around you, in the church pew, out in your daily lives, well, they just may be part of the elect to.

Just look at the company you keep!

saint and sinner –[seynt]-and-[sih-nuhr]: One person, yet at the same time, you are both saint and sinner.

Many religious denominations believe that you are either one, working your way toward the other, or vice versa. There seems to be a destination for that view, either you’re a saint or a sinner.

Lutherans are unique in this viewpoint. It’s a bit of a messy view, isn’t it. Let’s see if I can muddy the waters any more for you.

It’s our humanness that gets us into trouble. Because we’re human, things happen that we don’t necessarily want to have happen. We sin. We mess up royally. Even when we try not to mess up, inevitably, we do. Some days are just like that. Paul laments about this problem in Romans 7, so read that for comfort. You’re not alone. This would be the sinner definition.

It is through our humanness that God initiates and establishes a relationship with us. Because God desires and seeks out and makes this relationship happen with us, we can tell God we’re sinners. Of course, God already knows this. God didn’t enter into this relationship with eyes closed, you know. And it’s because of this relationship with God that we try and love and serve others in the world. This is more toward the saint definition.

And God loves us, sinning sinner and saintly saint. All at the same time.

worship–\WUHR-shihp\ What God does to us when we think we’re singing, praying, and listening on Sunday morning. (This definition taken straight from “Crazy Talk: A Not-So-Stuffy Dictionary of Theological Terms” edited by Rolf A. Jacobson.)

Of course, this definition would need to also include Wednesday night at Atonement, another important worship time in our lives together.

Aren’t there some days you leave church and you think “well, that didn’t work so well, did it.” Not because of the worship structure or content, but perhaps because your mind was busy thinking about other things, which then, of course, distracts your heart, and you find yourself heading home, thinking, “Did I hear anything? Did that worship even count?”

Lucky for us, it doesn’t depend on us. God is at work in our lives, in our un-attentive hearts, in our wandering minds. God comes to us through the word that is read to us, preached to us, sung to us and by us. God comes to us through the powerful action of the Holy Spirit at work in our lives in truly mysterious ways, even if we’re not sure what it is we’re doing. In fact, God is especially at work in our lives when we’re unsure.

So we gather for worship in our clumsy, loving attempts to give praise to a God who loves us because of and despite our best efforts to worship. Thanks be to God!

thanksgiving –\thanks-GIH-veeng\ Not just for the 4th Thursday of November anymore.

I’ve always yearned for Thanksgiving to be a church holiday. By doing so, of course, perhaps it would lose the breadth and depth of what I think thanksgiving means for us as Christians.

Of course we are thankful for our country, for the bounty many of us take for granted: enough food to eat, a roof over our heads, friends, and family. For some of us, these things may not be guaranteed every day, and so perhaps our thankfulness is even greater when we do have a good, hot meal or experience true love from a friend or family member.

But essentially, our lives can be offered to God as thanksgiving for, well, God. For God’s love. For God’s faithfulness to us that never fails. For that fact that, while we may pat our own backs at the end of a particularly good day, it is God we give thanks to for this mysterious, wondrous blessing of life. Even on the bad days.

When you celebrate this Thanksgiving day, take a moment and share with those you gather with what and who it is you are thankful for, realizing that it is God who is the source of all things.

Advent –\ad-vent\ Literally means “coming” or “arrival” of Jesus Christ.

Anytime I talk about a season of the church year, I usually say “oh, it’s one of my favorite seasons.” While this may seem insincere at first blush, it is earnest and true at the most basic level. Because all church seasons bring with them something new that we can appreciate only as we look over our shoulder at what is behind us now.

Advent is one of my favorite seasons of the church year. It is the start of the church year when we dive into a new Gospel and begin again our journey of faith. We begin the church year at a time of darkness and we yearn for light, just a little at a time, to remind us that Christ is born anew in us. And of course we know that Christ remains with us, as we look back over our shoulder at the church year we’ve just completed. We look forward, peering through the darkness at the light that will increase our hope and longing as Christ promises to come again and again and again.

wait –[weyt] Not now. Later.

Is this a word from our language of faith? Wait?

Just think how long Sarah waited to have a child.
Just think how long Israel waited to be freed from slavery.

In Lent, we wait for Jesus to rise from the dead.
In Advent, we wait for Jesus to be born in us again.

The dictionary gives a few definitions that I think go well together.
1. to remain inactive or in a state of repose, as until something expected happens: to wait for the bus to arrive.
2. to be available or in readiness: A letter is waiting for you.

As difficult as it can be to wait, waiting in expectation of what is to come helps us to prepare, helps us to be awake to what it is that is coming. Are we sometimes impatient, cranky wait-ers? Indeed. If you’ve ever been a kid or have kids, or still act like a kid, this feeling is familiar. Sometimes it is hard to wait for what we know is so good, what will not let us down. Ever.

We wait in expectation of the Christ child. And as we wait, we ready ourselves for this miracle that we can hardly fathom in our minds and our hearts.

Wait.

epiphany [i⋅pif⋅uh⋅nee] – Oh! I see!
Capital E on the front of this word designates it as a season of the church, the season we are briefly in right now. We celebrate the arrival of the kings (were there 3? hmmm) to the manger, guided by a star. “Oh, the Christ child! Here he is!”*

With the small e, this word means having a sudden insight usually inspired by something ordinary, something commonplace.

I still remember an episode of a sitcom where the main characters played a game of “epiphany ball.” As each person caught the ball, a look would come across their face that told you they had just had a grand revelation of some kind. Then they would say something funny and throw the ball.

All through Advent, we waited with anticipation, lighting just one more candle each week as we waited for the Christ child. Christmas is a burst of color, red poinsettias, flashing lights, candles blazing. And we still remain in the light, it’s just less programmed and has less commercial appeal.

It’s pretty common for a baby to be born, isn’t it? Births happen every day, all over the world. And yet, this is how God chose to reveal his love for us – through the birth of his son, born to teenagers, surrounded by animals with all of their sounds and smells. As any woman who has ever given birth, they would tell you the process and the result is anything but ordinary.

Pay attention and see how the ordinary things in your life cause you to briefly pause as new depth and life are revealed to you. God works in mysterious ways.

*Comment not actually known to have been said by the kings at the manger.

promise – [prom-is] What God says to us again and again: “I promise.” God keeps promises.

Picture this: a young child, standing in a somewhat “polite” manner, hands clenched, face contorted into an expression of good intention, eyes dripping with tears of sincerity. Now, hear this: “Plleeeease!?! I promise I will________________.”

Who of us has not been in that situation, either as the one making promises or the one hearing them? Some of you may even be able to add in some foot stomping, and I would love to hear the promises proclaimed in each situation. What is it that we promise? What motivates us to make such promises? And then what is our undoing as we, most often, break promises made to one another?

We are on a journey that is paved with God’s promises. This journey leads us to a stable, then to the foot of the cross, and then to en empty tomb, an empty cross. God says to us again and again, “I promise to love you and to show you that love in the most radical way.” God hears our heartfelt, earnest promises that we make to one another and to God. And God continues to love us and to fulfill God’s promises to us.

Promise.

volunteer –[vol-uhn-teer] and member [mem-ber]

Well, I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I? Choosing two words instead of just one! Stick with me and hopefully you’ll see why they are paired in this one dramatic episode.

It’s incredible to look around and see the many dedicated people do the work of the church. This includes work within the church building that is both seen and unseen. This also includes work outside the church building, seen and unseen. Visiting and folding and mailing and cooking and praying and cleaning and counting only touch a few of the areas in which people serve the world.

So, dear reader, (yes, you!) when you are going about these things in your every day life, do you think “I’m doing this as a volunteer for the church (or the rescue mission, or the red cross) “? Or, is your thinking more along the lines of “I’m doing this as a member of this particular organization”? What is the difference?

Well, if we’re going to look at what this means for us as Christians, then being a member means you are a member of the body of Christ. So really, you’re a partner with God in ministry to and for the world. So sometimes that means you raise your hand and say “I’ll do that!” Other times it means you labor over something because you’re passionate about it and because you know your partner in ministry is God.

Take a good look around you. Whether you’re in church, in your home, at work, or out in the community somewhere, think of all the potential and realized partners in ministry. It can be hard work, and it most likely is most of the time. That is prime time to remember that you’re not in it alone, but are in a partnership that God never abandons.

kneel –[neel] Snap, crackle, pop

We don’t kneel too much as Lutherans. Perhaps during Lent there will be more kneeling here at Atonement – I’m about to see for myself. Growing up in the Lutheran church, I found myself kneeling for communion and then, most often, during the season of Lent. Kneeling is found in the Psalms, the Gospels, and in letters of Paul as a sign of reverence and humility as well as a posture for prayer.

There is something to that, isn’t there? I know when I have been in tough times, kneeling in prayer has somehow drawn me closer to God and made it clearer to me just what it is I am bringing to God in prayer. Just as kneeling at the table for communion reminds me that I am among a whole host of kneelers, begging for mercy, and receive it again and again from a loving God, who hears our prayers when we’re on our knees or not.

star –[stahr] Any of the heavenly bodies, except the moon, appearing as fixed luminous points in the sky at night.

In my every day life, I most often hear the word “star” associated with someone who is popular, famous, infamous. And yet, when I really think about the word and it’s primary meaning (see definition above), I am assured that this heavenly version of star will outlast the careers of countless “stars” we hear about and read about every day.

And yet, we walk beneath them without a glance skyward most of the time. Well, clouds don’t help. But, when we do remember to look up, and are in a position to actually see stars (lack of city lights), it’s something, isn’t it? I still remember the first time I ever saw stars from a mountain, camping with my family in Colorado. It was breath taking, how close we seemed, how crisp the night air was – it seemed like we were breathing stars.

Stars get some good ink in the Bible, and are an important feature in this current church season we call Epiphany. Stars get mention in the creation story in Genesis, and God compares the number of Abraham’s descendants to the sweeping stars of creation. Joseph did not earn extra love from his brothers when he shared his dream where even the stars were bowing down to him. We are also advised not to bow down and worship them in Deuteronomy. Stars are associated with the passage of time, with images of war, and try to help us imagine the height of heaven. Stars in the Bible are singing, shining, leading, guiding. Jesus is even referred to as the Day Star.

Stars in the Bible are most often associated with the descendents of Israel, of God’s chosen people, of you and me, heirs to the promise. We number like the stars! Think of that the next time you have the opportunity to take a good look at the stars in the sky – it will take your breath away.

love — [luhv] It’s all we need.

It’s about time to talk about love, don’t you think? What with a heart being the chosen visual for this column, it’s time to put some words to it.

The heart you see at the top of this column each week suggests that the language of faith is wrapped up in matters of the heart. It is, isn’t it? Our faith taps into human emotions, our human lives, yet involves a kind of love that is, most days, beyond us. Our human hearts can be fickle, overly-emotional, closed off, hardened, and sent soaring on the whims of things seemingly shallow, inexplicable deeply complicated.

We’d be so done if it ended here. Faith in God due to the consistency of our own hearts? Showing love for others and ourselves on the strength of our own hearts? Not gonna happen.

The love we are called (commanded!) to live is a love like no other. It is a love that demands we love others before we love ourselves. It is a love that says we love God, and so because we love God, we love others. Nowhere does the Bible mention how much we are to love the things in life, but again and again — others. We are to love others.

It is because God loved and continues to love us. God loved us first, and because of this God whose nature it is to love, we love. Don’t you just love God for that?

lent — [lent]
1. n. clinging bits of fiber and fluff; fuzz.
2. n. my mom’s least-favorite season of the church year

I’ve got my tongue firmly in cheek right off the bat, but stick with me and it just might come together. Maybe.

Growing up, Lent always seemed a “navel-gazing” time to me. It was a time of looking inward, acknowledging my sin, my status as a wretch, a reprobate. Now, as a teenager, this is how one spends a great deal of each day anyway. It just seems to be the nature of that time of your life, at least for me it was. So (here it comes) Lent, just as being a teenager, involves examining the bellybutton lint for what it is, one bit at a time. If lint can be compared to sin, next time you find some lint in an unexpected or unwanted place, check your reaction to it. “How did that get there!?” or “Oh, yuck.” These are similar reactions we might have to sin, don’t you think?

But staying in this introspective place too long is not a good thing. Looking up and out are important parts of engaging in the world around us. Living in community takes both introspection and relationships with other people. Our introspection contributes to our ability to be in relationships with other people.

My mom never said this to me in so many words, but it seemed that when we got around to Lent, it just magnified what Lutherans are already pretty good at doing – journeying in the dark toward the light. I think my mom has understood the theology of the cross for a long time. And we, as Lutherans, seem to come by this nighttime wandering naturally as Martin Luther had a tendency to wallow in the dark. Luther’s confessor became tired of Luther’s relentless, detailed, and unending confessing. He became so weary of it that he advised Luther to go out and commit real sin and then to come back and confess! Perhaps Luther was a moody teenager long past his teenage years.

But, we don’t lose sight of the light – that gives us our purpose, our direction, the reason we continue to journey. And we journey in good company, praying together, all the while looking at the light cast on the cross. And we journey toward this cross, because without the cross, without the promise and miracle of the resurrection, well, we’d stay in the dark. Yet I think my mom, though she does not look forward to Lent, appreciates the relationship we have with light and dark and living with both.

prayer –[prair] —dialoging with God

I used to think prayer was all about me – what I said, how I said it, when I said it.  Sure, God was involved, but only as a receiver.  I mean, what with all the people praying around the world, God was busy simply hearing our prayers, keeping track of them, cataloging them.  What a terrible monologue God must have endured for so long, politely smiling like a loving parent enduring a terrible speech contest.

I don’t honestly remember when my concept of prayer changed, but I imagine it’s because God finally got through to me, busting through the chatter, challenging me to hear God, to listen for God.  To talk with God.  Huh.

Prayer can be tough.  Listening for God can feel like an eternity, or sometimes you wish you had a little more breathing room.  Praying alone and praying in community; praying in a panic or praying at your leisure; praying in anger or praying in great rejoicing – God is there with us.

Patience.  Persistence.  Passion.  Prayer.  For those of you who attended the Ash Wednesday service, you have a small, metal fish that is jingling in your pocket, lost in your purse, or in a coat pocket.  It is a reminder of patience during this challenging journey, encouraging your persistence, igniting your passion in the midst of Jesus’ passion for us.  Let that fish remind you to pray, to be patient and persistent.

bless⋅ed [bles-id]  [bless-t]

1. consecrated; sacred; holy; sanctified

Wow, read that definition again.  Now think of all of the times you use the word “blessed” – no matter how you say it.  You may use it as a way to sign off an email, a letter, or a phone conversation.  You may say it when asked how your day is, how you are feeling.  Or you may refer to this word when you talk about your life.

But what do you mean?  What does “being blessed” look like?  What does it feel like?  Is there a prescription you can fill, a recipe you can follow?  Is there actual physical proof of this condition, this blessedness?  I propose the answer no.  Sprinkled with a little bit of yes.  (Don’t you just hate that?)

I think explaining what I don’t think a blessing is might be helpful.  As Lutherans, we don’t follow a program that leads to blessing, with benchmarks of accomplishment along the way.  Blessing does not guarantee monetary wealth, success in business and in life measured by possessions and notoriety.

Being blessed comes from God.

Do you feel that whatever or whoever you feel blessed by was somehow earned, or begrudgingly bestowed upon you?  That there is some sort of hook in the blessing?  That it’s not quite done with you, but in a bad way?  Danger!  Danger!  I would hazard a guess that it would not fit in this category of blessing.

This does not mean, however, that blessings bring about instant happiness and contentment.  There is a deep joy associated with living in and amongst the mysterious blessings of God.  We are can be blessed through difficult situations.  We are blessed through other people’s actions and words.  We can be a blessing to others through actions and words, whether accidental, intentional, broadcast, unseen, or unknown.  And it is through God and the incredible work of the Spirit that these blessings are experienced, realized, and lived.

re⋅pent⋅ance–[ri-pen-tns, -pen-tuhns] – about face!  (Ok, try it again…)

(I like that the dictionary gave two specific ending pronunciations.  I think if I was really feeling guilty about something, I’d go with the “tuhns” ending, wouldn’t you?)

Usually, when you see this word, (REPENT!) it’s in ALL CAPS, followed by an exclamation point and some sort of declaration about what will happen if you don’t repent, or about what’s about to happen that might encourage or persuade you to repent.  The end is near!  Believe the Good News!  Hellfire!  Damnation!  It’s enough to make you, well, repent.  Or turn around and run.  Change your crooked ways.

The thing about repentance is that it seems we’re never done doing it.  Because we’re alive, breathing in and out, we are bound to sin and therefore remain in this cycle.  It can seem a little daunting, can’t it?  A little repetitive.  You’d think we’d learn by now.  But the thing is, the more we’re in conversation with God about what troubles us (along with our joys and thankfulness to God), the more likely it is that we’ll hear and see God active in our lives, the more likely it is that God will work true and lasting change in our lives.  This doesn’t mean we’ve become sin-resistant and no longer in need of repentance, but it may become an important and fruitful part of our lives as faithful people.  Repentance suggests motion, movement.  One step forward and two steps back, perhaps, but movement and change nonetheless.  This cycle, this turning around and around and around is preferable to banging your head against a wall isn’t it?  I thought so.

giv⋅en [giv-uhn] – For me?!  You shouldn’t have…but I’m so glad you did.

There is a standard practice in parts of the Midwest where, upon being given something, the “givee” (ok, receiver, but this is not about football, dad) tries to refuse it.  Like at least one time, if not two or three times.  “Oh, no thank you, I couldn’t.”  OR “It’s just too much!  You shouldn’t have!” OR “You’re too generous” are common responses to being overwhelmed with whatever the person is trying to give to you.  Sort of a cultural thing, I suppose.  You just might seem a little too eager if you accepted too soon, or worse yet, greedy.

For those of you new to this phenomenom, if the person didn’t like what they were being offered, they would say it was “interesting,” and in that italicized way that tells you “That is the last thing I’d want!”

But I am convinced that it does stem from the feeling of being overwhelmed by someone else’s thoughtfulness or generosity toward you.  It shows that they have been thinking of you and thought enough of you to offer something to you, something that you just might like.  To know someone has taken time to consider you, and then to try and please you, well, it’s the stuff of love, isn’t it?  And sometimes, in the face of love shown in the simplest of ways, we stammer and shuffle our feet and try and refuse it, although in the most polite of ways.

Can you see the tie-in I’m about to make?  We’ve been given Jesus, people!  We are journeying to the cross with Jesus, who was given to us so that we might know the depth of God’s love for us.  And in turn we are given forgiveness.  Bold and grief-stricken, but constant in the face of our refusal of God’s love. We may not be so Midwestern Polite when we refuse God’s love, God’s forgiveness.  In fact, often times we are downright rude in our refusal of God’s love, God’s forgiveness.  But God doesn’t take it back from us, saying we don’t deserve it.  Because of course we know this, and maybe this is why we put out our hands and say “No, that can’t be for me.”  But God does not take “no” (Midwestern Polite or otherwise) for an answer.

And for that, we say thank you,God.

re⋅mem⋅ber [ri-mem-ber] – Hmmm, what was that again?

I can still remember the first time I knew when my grandmother no longer remembered me. The look of panic on her face flashed before she could recover, trying to hide that she didn’t recognize the three young ladies at her door. This is a heartbreaking kind of not remembering, for my grandma and for those who loved her.

As we get closer to the cross, to Good Friday, it is difficult, once again, to remember what is going to happen to Jesus. I almost shudder as I re-read familiar scripture passages of Jesus’ trial, the beatings, the humiliation. It is heartbreaking. There is a large part of me that wants to forget this, to push it away, to get right to Easter.
Yet, we remember these events weekly if not daily in our lives of faith. When we splash water on our face in the morning, we remember the waters of our baptism and the promises that this water brings to us. We gather at the table and remember the night when Jesus was betrayed. We remember that we have new life through the bread and the wine.

We are not forgotten by the God who created us. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom,” utters one of the criminals on the cross next to Jesus. The criminal who sees Jesus as the one to bring about a new kingdom wants to be part of that kingdom, that promise. We believe in a God who forgives our sin and remembers the promise made to us through Jesus.

heal [heel] – there, don’t you feel better?

It was near Christmas and the heater on the church bus was not at all reliable. Many a chilly Wednesday night (and Sunday morning) was spent, huddled in oneself, as the bus made its way to and from church. We jokingly talked about performing a healing rite on the bus, but never did do that. Then one night, the night we’d be on the bus a long time looking at Christmas lights, the heat worked. About half way through the route picking people up, I noticed a warming sensation and tentatively looked over at Marie and said, almost in a whisper, “Do you feel that? Do you feel heat?” She smiled and nodded that she, too, felt the heat. Knowing the hours ahead on the bus would now be warm, I shouted “It’s a Christmas miracle! The bus has been healed!”

We never appreciated the heat on that bus until it no longer worked. And then, when there was actual evidence of warmth, it was hard to believe. (If you’d like the whole story about the miraculous healing of the bus, ask me – I’d be happy to share.)

When I don’t feel my best, I appreciate my good health so much more when it is regained. What about you? Perhaps your health is not good and it is something you struggle with from day to day. Or maybe your good days even don’t feel so good, really. What is it to be healed? Does it mean to live without pain, to feel young? Often we are caught up in that notion of healing being equivalent to feeling our best and we limit it to our physical bodies. What about our minds? Our spirits? Our emotional health?

In the 23rd chapter of Luke, as Jesus dies on the cross he says “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” It is through Jesus we are made new, made whole, healed of our wounds and sickness. Some days it sneaks up on us, like the unexpected heat on the bus, and other days it looks and feels like the most obvious thing in the world.

Here we are, on the final leg of the Lenten journey toward the cross, and we yearn for wholeness, we yearn to be healed in the shadow of the cross, a device of torture. And yet, it is through this suffering that we are made whole, that we are healed again and again. It is through the cross that we are taken, blessed, broken, and given to the world to be the hands and feet and heart of Christ. And through these great actions of love, we are healed! We are made whole.

bap⋅tism [bap-tiz-uh m]- splish, splish, SPLASH!
“Splish, Splish, Splash” was a favorite water-day game at day camp. The game works like “Duck, Duck, Gray Duck” (or “Duck, Duck, Goose” as you might call it), only the person who is “it” uses water. A little splish on one person, another little splish, and then a big SPLASH (all of the water in the container) dumped over the head of the person you want to chase you. Of course, everyone wants to be picked. Well, most. The anticipation of all that water being dumped over your head is nothing compared to the shock of that water streaming down your face, followed by screams of delight by everyone else in the circle.
In the Lutheran church, we could be called “splashers” when it comes to baptism. Or “sprinklers” or even “dribblers” in some cases. We’re not known as “dunkers” or “divers” when it comes to the act of baptizing.
But it’s not really about us anyway, is it? It’s about God’s activity in plain old water, mingled with God’s word. The impact of that word and water changes us; God changes us. While we may not be “divers” when it comes to the act of baptism, I’d argue that we’re “divers” when it comes to the word. Dive into the word and you’ll discover the promise of God’s love and faithfulness to us never fails. We might forget, we might think we’ve somehow “undone” our baptism, that we’ve dried off, but it’s not true. God’s promise of love, of forgiveness, of making us new again and again never fails. Ever.
Now doesn’t that feel like a splash of water dumped over your head amidst the delight of all those around you? It’s pretty darn good news, isn’t it?

Celebrate with us in knowing that this past Saturday at the Easter Vigil at Atonement, 10 people were baptized! SPLASH!

holy [hoh-lee]– set apart by God for God’s purposes.

When someone uses “holy” in an exclamation – “holy cow!” for instance – the use of the word holy reveals a sort of amazement at what has been witnessed. Of course, it’s not always used in a reverent way, but that’s a whole other column, folks.

God is certainly holy, we know that, right? Of course. And if holy means, in part, to be set aside by God, then God is certainly set apart from the ways of the world without being absent from it. In fact, God is present and active in our lives and in the lives of all creation.

Holy is a way to designate something as “other”- as set apart. While we want and need ways to relate to God that speak to us personally, that does not mean that our relationship with God somehow “de-holies” God or the relationship. On the contrary! God makes us holy. (Don’t let this go to your head, people. Or I’ll have to write about “holier-than-thou” next time.)

God sets us apart through the powerful waters of baptism. We are set apart through forgiveness of our sins. So we too are holy.

Holy forgiveness of sins, Batman!

 

creation

Earth Day was a few weeks ago now, and it got me to thinking about creation in the Biblical sense.  All I mean to say is that even when I think about “Earth Day” I think about well-meaning people who are trying to remind us that we should take better care of the earth and celebrate it.  I tick it off in my brain as a secular holiday.

Those well-meaning people I mentioned above?  That’s us.  And not just on one day a year in April when we hope it feels like spring, but year-round.  Earth Day is a concept that is ingrained in us, natural to us, that pulses through us.  Because we are creation!  We were created and we are re-created new each day through Jesus Christ.

Caring for creation means not only that we recycle and try to make choices that don’t abuse anyone or anything else, it also means that we care for one another as part of creation.  Caring for creation means we realize it’s not an action that is outside of us, but that it is bound up in our very being of who we are and what we do.  We have been given great responsibility and trust from God to care for creation – take that in to its deepest depths within you and see what happens.

Community- [kuh-myoo-ni-tee] You, and you. And you over there, you too. And you and you and you.

I worked with a man, Ben, from Papua New Guinea years ago. He came to the United States to be a camp counselor for the summer and was an absolute people magnet. Young or old, it didn’t matter, people were drawn to him. Ben taught us a song called “Jesus Loves You and You.” There was a lot of pointing during the song and the song itself took measures to name as many different people as it could that would be included in just who Jesus would love. It was a cute song and people often felt dorky singing it, so we sang it a lot because feeling dorky is something I enjoy. I think it opens people up.

What I didn’t realize about that song until now is that it’s about community. It’s not “Yes, Jesus loves me,” it’s “Jesus loves you and you and you and you and you…” Yes, of course it includes you, but it is definitely not limited to you.

Again and again in Scripture, Jesus will talk about something being “for you.” And if you were to dig into the meaning of that “you,” you would discover that it means a plural you, a royal we, a southern all-ya’ll. It pokes us right in our prideful individuality, which is a most tender spot. But once we get over the smarting from looking beyond ourselves, we discover that we were not created to live here on our own, with no regard for others, good, bad, or ugly.

Community is hard – that I know is not lost on Jesus who lived in community with us and is still present with us now, beckoning us to look beyond ourselves and to pay close attention to the “you” that is indeed not you.