Darkness

It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the 
temple was torn in two. 

Luke 23: 44-45

Darkness.  I don't know about you, but I feel like everywhere I look these days there is darkness.  When it is dark we are unable to distinguish what is real, it is hard to see even that which may be right in front of our eyes.  I don't remember if I was scared of the dark as a child, if nightlights were a part of my life or if I feared monsters or the like.  I have wonderful memories of being outside at night, playing basketball with my Dad or swimming in the pool with the light on and watching the fireflies and other night creatures with curiosity.  Darkness allows for our minds to make great leaps.  Imagining what is in the dark is what can get me scared.

As an adult I have had some amazing adventures, travelling places I never thought I would go and building relationships with people I never thought I would meet.  One of these places is in Kenya, at our children's home.  The darkness in Kenya can seem really dark, as there is limited access to electricity.  We would wear headlamps and the children would laugh.  They were so used to being in the dark that it didn't phase them.  Should we have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night it meant crawling out of your bed, which was covered by a mosquito net that had been tucked in around you, and then heading for the outhouse type bathroom.  Walking out in the dark in Kenya could be a little scary.  The noises were different, the air was different, and I was always expecting a large spider, snake, or bat to follow me right into that little space.  Thankfully it didn't because I know if I had screamed the children would have come running as they were always concerned about our safety.

Another time I found myself on a trail in the Monongahela National Forest in West Virginia with my soul sister and our bikes.  We took a wrong turn and ended up trying to ride our bikes on a trail that got smaller and smaller, covered with nettle, and then it started raining.  In the midst of all of this it was getting darker and darker and we kept seeing bear poop all over.  I knew the bears were eating dinner by this time and I was certain that I might be the evening meal.  My mind raced as I began to sing loudly every song I could think of, in hopes that the bears wouldn't want to eat me.  Now that I am out of that forest I realize how ridiculous I was, but at the time, in the emotion and fear of the moment, the threat seemed very real.

Today is Good Friday, one of the most solemn and holy times of worship each year.  It is the day we recognize and embrace the sacrifice, the suffering, and the grief of Jesus and those who loved Him.  Everything is dark in worship this day, though the sun was shining and it was a beautiful day outside.  Darkness can sneak up on us sometimes.  I wonder as the people gathered around the crosses if they were really aware that darkness had descended upon them.  The events of the last days of Jesus' life unfolded so quickly, from parades and donkeys to courts of law and criminals.  It all seemed to go downhill so quickly.  The disciples were afraid for their own lives so they hid, their lives turned upside down with the arrest and punishment of the one they had come to know as the Messiah.  Darkness hung in the air as their identities as leaders of this new movement became something to hide.  Darkness can cause us to ask that difficult question, "Who am I?"

I imagine this is the very question Jesus' mother asked herself many times, the same for Lazarus who'd been brought back to life, the same for the blind man, the bleeding woman, the woman at the well, Jairus and his daughter, and the countless other people that had been touched by the ministry of Jesus and his disciples.  Perhaps you have experienced that creeping darkness too.  I have.  There have been times in this last year when pondering that question of "Who am I?" has overwhelmed, saddened, and defeated me.  When things seem so complicated that a solution is nowhere to be found, when that voice in my head tells me I'm not doing enough, working hard enough, just plain enough...that's when the darkness creeps in.

Today I have been thinking about this darkness.  I think in some ways darkness defines our worth.   That day as Jesus was nailed to the cross and the darkness fell over the earth I can only assume that the people began to wonder about their identity.  The darkness only emphasized the mission: that God would go to the scariest, worst, murkiest place in order that we realize our worth.  Maybe it's in the dark times that we set aside our pride, our egos, even that which makes us self-conscious or passive. The darkness is a level-playing field, the place where we like those who were there that day near the cross, realize that it is the love of God that connects us, and that we really are all in this together.  If Jesus went through this for me, He did it for you too....and for all other people.  Suddenly all that divides us seems so petty, so ridiculous, so sinful.

The death of Jesus is easy to overlook as we head quickly into Easter celebrations and resurrection worship services, but I think we need to stay right here.  In this space of grief, of fear, of the unknown, this is where we can grasp onto the immeasurable gift of a God who knows us, not one who judges us harshly for our failures and weaknesses, but a God who embraces us in our sadness, one who comes alongside when the road gets dark, when we can't see our hands in front of our faces, when we think the "bears" that we cannot see are going to come and get us.

Who am I?  Who are you?  Really think about it.  Who ARE you?  Whose are you?

What gives us worth, what defines us?

Oh God, help us live with intention, help us relate to one another as human beings, show us how to make peace, show us how to bring light into the darkness of power-hungry politics and warring madness.  Help us to look in the mirror and recognize that our very breath is of You, that if we have life we have purpose.  Make us light.

Turn them Over

It's Holy Week.  That's why lots of the preachers you know are blogging today.  I am joining the bandwagon, I suppose, but as always expect that you all know that this blog is just the place where I empty my brain after it chews on things for way too long.  
I preached yesterday for Palm Sunday.  It was the most difficult Palm Sunday sermon I've ever preached because I spent so much time reflecting on the juxtaposition of the two worlds in which we live.  We are citizens in the Kingdom of God, yet we are also people of the world.  We are the people living in a world where children are the victims of chemical warfare, where bombs are dropping, where equality seems mythical and racism and stereotypes run rampant.  Into this mess and chaos rides in Jesus, the Prince of Peace while on the other side of town Pilate enters on his stallion surrounded by battalions of soldiers told to keep the people in line.  Struggles for power, chaos, greed, all these continue to plague our communities just as they did at that very moment in Jerusalem.  And I wonder what my role is in this in-breaking of Christ. What happened to the power and prophetic voice of my denomination?

Today the Scripture speaks of Jesus turning over the tables in the temple.  

I think Jesus was a pretty understanding guy, all in all.  I mean his patience and care for people who just didn't get it is clear in nearly every part of the Gospel stories.  That's not an easy task, to genuinely care for the very people who question and doubt your identity.  This day Jesus got mad,  he'd had it.  Turning the Temple into an opportunity to exploit the poor by charging extra to change money for the purchase of sacrificial animals was unacceptable.  I really don't think Jesus was mad that they were selling things, but that in doing so it became another way to harm, persecute, and shame people who were already marginalized. The tables were turned and the message was clear.  It was one of Jesus' boldest moves - an emotional reaction at this highly dramatic space of time when it seems that everyone was watching his every move.  He must have been frustrated, Jesus must have just plain been done.  Done playing the games that society had demanded of him, done keeping his mission out of the light of day, just plain done.  

Do you ever feel like that?  I do. Sometimes situations seem so chaotic, so utterly broken, so hopeless, so maddening that we just have to act, to say something, to turn over the tables of injustice.  There are some tables I'd love to turn over in my larger church context.  These are the things that we are so distracted by, so entrenched in, so afraid of, that we have become unable to focus on what it is that we are called to do as the Body of Christ in the world today.  The tables in the temple of the UMC are keeping us trapped, stuck, and limiting our ability to live out our own theological truths.  

Here are some of the tables I'd love for Jesus to turn over:

• TABLE ONE:  FEAR OF SCARCITY.  When we are afraid that there will not be enough to go around we make rash decisions about what is most important.  We begin to hold onto the things that are most important to us, rather than what is best for the health of the whole.  Often the things we grip are the very archaic understandings and "things" that got us into the space we find ourselves.  When we operate out of scarcity it is impossible to think creatively or come up with God-sized vision or hope.  

• TABLE TWO:  JUDGMENT.  Judgment is also often rooted in fear and an attempt to maintain control or to keep things manageable or the same.  We judge based on our understanding and experience of what is right and wrong, often without regard for the "other."  Some judgments are helpful and keep us safe, but right now our church is divided and trapped by useless judgment.  We will not welcome people into our fellowship if they don't love who we want them to.  We won't allow persons called by God to preach, to do so if they are in loving relationships that are different than what we have been used to.  Judgement causes us to look backward to the 'good ol' days' though those days are long gone  (or never really existed) and this prevents God from doing a new thing in our midst.  We are so busy deciding what God would do, that we seem to be forgetting that it's God that judges, it's God that calls, whether we like it or not.  Imagine what could be accomplished through the UMC if we set our judgments aside looked beyond our differences, and stood together to bring light into the darkness of the world.  

• TABLE THREE:  SELF PRESERVATION.  This one is more personal for me than it should be.  In a denominational system that was built upon "boots on the ground" ministry with and for all people, we have become a top-heavy, slow-moving institution.  What if we tipped this institution on its head, giving the local churches the power and authority, asking those who reside "above" us in the hierarchy to think out of the box, to work with and not against the little people (like me) at the very bottom of the food chain?  What would it mean for funding to be sufficient for dreams to become realities for small communities of faith, for budgets to be less focused on paying the good old boys and more focused on listening to the movement of the Holy Spirit.  Yes this would mean change, yes this would mean ministries may stop, but it also means that we could have some space for new birth, for cooperative ministries, shared power, and relationships based on listening and trust.  

• TABLE FOUR:  CONVENTIONALITY:  Jesus was not a conventional Messiah.  He was not concerned with living into the Messianic identity that the people desired.  He wasn't in ministry to please the establishment or further the Pharisaic notions of rule-following faith and obedience.  He did what he was called to do and he did it in the name of the God who called him to act, to love, to live and he didn't apologize.  We can't be so afraid of failure that we become meek, politically correct, and voiceless.  This is what makes ministry so much fun, and so terrifying at the same time.  When God gives us ideas, when the Spirit takes us places we've never dreamed, when we face the giants of budget cuts and buildings falling apart, that's the very time we must think and embrace something new.  Change our hearts, Oh God....help us not only to think bigger, but to take the steps to make unconventional ministry the new norm.  Friends, we can't become so concerned with keeping things comfortable that we allow ourselves to be held hostage by the past.  Standing still, or looking back leads to death.  

There are other tables that need to be turned over.  There are tables in our own lives that prevent us from fully living out the life of discipleship that God has in store for us.  We are a work in progress, but can only reach our God-potential when we, like Jesus, look beyond the boundaries and barriers that keep us separated and divided and stay true to our call to LIVE our faith, to be uncomfortable and open minded, to be Spirit-led, to speak for those who are voiceless.  

We are living in a time of chaos, in a time where truth is hard to discover and uncover.  The time is now for us to get over ourselves and be the church God has called us to be.  

See, this is the thing that taints you when you work with college students.  They're not afraid to dig deep into their beliefs, they know what kind of church they want, they know that living faith is the only kind of faith to have in response to Jesus, and they make those of us "older adults" that  love them realize that life is too short to sit around assuming we know what God wants/thinks.  

My prayer for today is that Jesus would turn over the tables in my life and in the life of the UMC, that we would boldly and courageously step into the future as the church that offers grace, mercy, freedom, salvation, and hope to ALL people.  

Boy do we have a long way to go.