From Where I Stand: Limiting God?

Language is important. The way we think about things and the way we talk about things and people affects the way those things and people seem to us. When my daughter was a baby, she didn't have much hair. Joy and I would take her out somewhere, and people would come up to see the beautiful new baby. (She was and is beautiful). It didn't matter if she was dressed in a frilly pink dress with a pink bow on her head, people regularly said he was a good looking young boy. 

The perception of who they thought our daughter was didn't change who she was, but it limited their vision to see her.

That is one of the ways that we limit God. Our language about God is often gendered. I think most people would agree that God is neither male nor female, but calling God "he" all of the time overtly and covertly limits who we think God is. If God is primarily male, that means God is only secondarily female. If we continue in that line of thinking, we can see where people might continue in sexist thought. The same type of problems arise when we think of God as a particular ethnicity, gender, color, or whatever limiting factors we want to throw in there. If God is more like one sort of people, then God is less like another sort of people. The way we think about and speak about God doesn't really limit God, but it limits our ability to see God.

There's another limiting factor that we place on God--the ability for God to call whomever God chooses. In the United Methodist Church there has been a recent ruling against allowing people in the LGBTQ+ community to be ordained clergy. A push for the same type of ruling is happening within the denomination I serve. Here's why I think this is a bad idea.

Humans are little like God. In our understanding, our power, our abilities, we are not like God at all. Yet we strive to become like God. That is at the heart of the story of the first sin. The tempter said if the humans ate of that particular fruit, they would be like God. Of course they tried it. If there was a chance of being like God, that would be pretty hard to resist.

Yet, we are still nothing like God, not having God's understanding. We can't even understand out neighbors across the street who are so much like us in so many ways. The efforts to determine who God can call to ministry and who God can't call are like people trying to eat of the fruit. People want to put themselves in the place of God and say this one's in, and this one's out. That's limiting a limitless God.

Scripture is filled with examples of surprising people who were called by God. That is to say, the surprises are for us, not for God. God saw the qualities in people in scripture that we would never see, and many that those who were called did not even see themselves. God called them, and they served. Thankfully an institution didn't stop people like Moses, David, Abraham, Jacob, Mary the mother of Jesus, and many others from serving. They heard the call from God and they responded.  

The people of this time will continue to disagree on many things. Limiting God is something we should agree about. God cannot be limited. Our language, our culture, and many other things limit our ability to understand God and other people. But let's not make the mistake of saying that God intends for us to limit God's work in the world. I think if we'd just accept people who have been called by God to serve, and if we'd step back and get out of their way, we'd see some awesome work that God can do through loving people. That may be surprising to some of us, but it isn't a surprise to God.

Anyway, that's the view from where I stand.

From Where I Stand: Letting Go

It is Lent in the Christian church, and many people choose to observe Lent by giving something up. It can be a time of letting go of something, ideally something that gets in the way of our relationship with God. I have found that some of the things that we hold most dearly can be things that interfere with our relationship with God. That makes Lent a powerful time for those who have courage enough to let go of some really dear things.

In the life of ministry, sometimes we have to let go of some really dear things. I have found that one of the hardest things to do in ministry is to let go of people. By that I mean people who have been part of the church, who have stood side by side with you as you face difficulty, who have worshiped with you and then choose to leave the church. I have also found that it is hard to find a safe space to discuss the pain one feels as a leader of a congregation in the middle of these types of losses. It is easier, and in some ways expected, that leaders just put on a happy face and focus on the positive aspects of ministry, while wishing those who choose another path well. And while that is assuredly the best way to move forward, it is important to acknowledge that there is grief that goes along with it.

Thankfully, you probably aren't all like me, but I spend time wondering what I did or could have done, what was missing or what was off-putting, and how this can inform my service to God. Of course, losing people in relationship is hard enough, but the added pressure (certainly added by myself) of wondering if this is an indictment of how I am serving God in this context makes this process even harder.

But letting go is about more than that. I need, as a servant of God and as a servant of people, to trust that God and others know what they need better than I do. I need to step back and give thanks for the service we shared during that season, and simply trust in the grace of the Holy Spirit that we are all where we are supposed to be.

And in doing that, I need to give up something I have a hard time giving up for Lent, and for good. It is something that I struggle with daily, hourly, all the time, and yet, I have to give it up and let it go. I need to let go of my pride. It doesn't all come down to me, it comes down to God. I may be in the role of leader, but more importantly I am a servant. I serve the people of my congregation and I serve God. If my pride interferes with that service, it is getting in the way of my relationship with God and with people, and it has to go. And not just for Lent, for good.

I am working on it... I thank you for patience with me while I work on it.

As always, may God bless you all.

Pastor Chris

From Where I Stand- Ashes to Ashes

Today the church enters into a holy season, the season of Lent. Lent is the forty days before Easter, not including Sundays, which are reserved as days to celebrate the Resurrection. We remember our mortality during this time. We impose ashes today, Ash Wednesday, as a reminder of our need to repent.

In the "old days" when something happened and people wanted to get God's attention, they would impose ashes and put on sackcloth. In the book of Job, Job does this to symbolize his mourning before God. This is a common practice in the Old Testament. Ash Wednesday is a recognition that, as sinners, we all need to repent before God. The time period before the holiest day of the year, Resurrection Sunday, is an appropriate time to take stock of who we are, what we have done and what we have been, and determine to be better.

Years ago I had an experience that gave a new significance to repentance for me. In an interfaith worship experience, I was led by a Jewish colleague in what is known as a t'shuvah service. The word t'shuvah is a Hebrew word for turning. The point of repentance isn't simply to stop whatever behavior is an issue, it is the process of turning from that behavior.

Since that time, I have associated repentance with "turning." This is something the worshipers in my congregation will hear about tonight in our worship service. But I want to turn some attention to the idea of ashes being a reminder of our mortality and what that can mean for us as people, whether we are Christians or not.

Most people do not want to die. Studies in psychology or in literature often focus on our fear of death. We cannot imagine that someday we will not exist. It is so stressful to think of this that we resist even the thoughts. We put off conversations about how we wish to be remembered or how we wish to be cared for at the end of life.

There are some who think this stress about the end of life is at the root of religion, especially at the root of religions that teach there is an afterlife.

But thinking about death is not so bad. I recognize that I will not live forever. That is one of the things that motivates me to do my best right now. It reminds me that I need to work toward something. It reminds me that if I want to leave my mark on the world, hopefully a mark for good, I don't have time to spare. In my tradition, it reminds me that if I want to be as good a person as I can be, I don't have time to dilly dally. I need to work on it all the time, every day.

And then, if I know me, even when I come closer to my end, I will worry that I haven't done enough. For those who know me well, that will not be a surprise. My hope is that if we can think on these things now, most of you won't have that worry. My hope is that if we can imagine a future world where we are no longer alive, it will give us the ability to live for that future so that the world will be better because we were here.

Ashes to ashes...When I am one day ashes, I hope that the world will be better because I lived. To me, that is the point of repentance, the point of Lent, the point of Ash Wednesday, and the point of recognizing our place in the universe, for the believer as a tiny part of the creation of the infinite God, but much the same for others to recognize their small part in such a vast universe.

Perhaps all we can do is a small part to make a better world, but we can do that. As we realize we will one day be ashes or dust, we remember that we need to turn now.

At least that's the view from where I stand.