Keeping God in the Equation

Recently, someone called me a hypocrite. As far as I can tell, it was because I wasn't fitting into the little box into which she thought all Christians should confine themselves (so they don't bother her?). She herself has disregarded the Church as a irrelevant and hypocritical institution, so I fit right into her presuppositions, I guess. I won't argue the facts of the accusation - it's neither important nor relevant to the point I want to talk about. I was left with this sense that I had been completely misunderstood - as a Christian and as a pastor. It made me go back and look at the stories of Jesus, when he called the religious leaders of his day "hypocrites." How does that title fit me?

The religious leaders of Jesus' day were so wrapped up in the day-to-day requirements of religion, they'd forgotten about God. That's the message we see from Jesus in the Gospels. He pulled out the "hypocrite" card whenever the religious leaders were trying to catch him at breaking one of the 713 "commandments" of Jewish law. Jesus spoke harshly to them about their legalistic ways, and then turned the law into something life-giving that pointed to God. He healed on the Sabbath. He allowed his disciples to harvest food on the Sabbath. He forgave sin.

Jesus took issue with those who followed the commandments carefully, but didn't grasp the importance of the God-Human relationship. They didn't seem to get it, that the Sabbath requirements (for example) were intended to give life and rest to us humans so that we could be more fully engaged with God in our rest and in our busy-ness ("The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath").

When I look at the religious leaders of Jesus' time, and compare them to myself I would have to say - yes... I am a hypocrite. I'm not overly-concerned with legalistic interpretations of scripture as they were, but I do fail miserably at trying to keep God in the equation of my life at all times. I get wrapped up in the way I see the world, and forget that God has a different perspective.

I have this little booklet that I have kept with me for years. In the 90's when we all carried around Daytimers, it was tucked into the front cover behind my business cards. It now occupies digital space on my smartphone. This little booklet is called, "The Practice of the Presence of God" by Brother Lawrence (Nicholas Herman). If you've ever heard me teach, it's likely you've heard me mention this little booklet. Brother Lawrence was a lay-brother in a 17th century Carmelite monastery in Paris. He did nothing to distinguish himself - in fact he was a kitchen assistant in the monastery, and did his best to remain anonymous. But Brother Lawrence provides for us this amazing testimony of living your life as worship. It is described this way,

When a young man is in love with a girl, he does not think of his beloved every instant if he has important work to do. But his devotion to her permeates all that he does with an overtone, and when a pause comes his mind naturally turns to the loved object; for our minds by their very nature turn ever so swiftly to the point where our treasure is, and they do so without effort.

That same principle is at work if God is your heart's desire. Such is the "practice of the presence of God" of Brother Lawrence. For him, the opportunity to peel potatoes for the brothers was an act of worship. In his second conversation with his scribe, M. de Beaufort, he says that his goal is that the love of God should be "the end of all his actions."

I think that's what Jesus was trying to get across to the scribes and Pharisees. It's not about the potatoes - it's about why you're peeling them. It's not about the Law - doing all the right things at the right times. It's about living a life of communion with our Creator - and doing it through every day actions as well as through spiritual disciplines and rigor.

So yes, I guess I am a hypocrite because I forget, like the scribes and Pharisees, that my motivation for action is worship. I forget to keep God in the equation.

When God isn't what you expect

There's something about expecting something and not getting it. Or getting it in a way that is not quite the way you expect. Or even when you get something unexpected. I have a really hard time with all of the above - but especially the latter. I just don't know what to do, and am often flustered enough that I can't react well. This is why my husband has been told quite clearly that there will be NO SURPRISE PARTIES. I really don't like surprises.

Sometimes God surprises me, too. Okay, maybe more than sometimes. I get an idea in my head what God is like, and it seems like just when I've got God all figured out, God must get a little impish grin - much like my son does when he's figured out a loophole in one of the rules - and God throws me a curve ball. And again, I usually don't like it.

Debates that have clashed in the Christian church for a millenia (or more) are one of these areas in which I see God doing surprising things. Take the predestination vs. free will debate. If you are not familiar with it, it goes like this:

Side One (Predestination):
Your salvation is based fully upon God's grace - there is absolutely nothing you can do to change it. So, either you are "predestined" to salvation, or not. There is no personal choice in the matter - just God's choice. (Double presdestinarians would say you are either predestined to salvation or predestined to eternal damnation.)

Side Two (Free Will):
God's grace is offered to everyone, but you must accept it in order to receive salvation. Each individual has the ability to choose whether they will accept God's grace, or refuse it.

I tend toward believing the latter - somewhat because that is the faith tradition in which I was raised, but mostly because I have a hard time believing that God would intentionally leave someone out. It's much easier to say that God offered, but people have refused. But there is also enough of the former in me (and sufficient Biblical evidence to support either theory), to believe that I've been uniquely chosen. Maybe that's ego-centricity. LOL.

But I am convinced that the truth is somehow both-and. We are both uniquely chosen, and have the free will to accept it. I believe that God's grace IS freely offered to everyone, and that some will accept it and some will not. But even more fundamental is my understanding that God is bigger than our doctrinal debates, and just because I want a finite answer to questions such as these, God's character is such that the answer is infinite.

But still, God surprises me. When I am reading a Hindu text and sense God's spirit moving through it - that's surprising. When I am talking with Muslim women about their faith and can see God's hand in their religious decisions - that's surprising. I struggle with the thought that friends who are atheist (or, worse in some ways, agnostic) will potentially not get to spend eternity with me. But then I feel comforted that God has "ways" that are unknown to me - and that God will be consistent with God's character (love and justice would be the primary characteristics at play here) when the time comes (aka "Judgment Day"). Does that release me from feeling that sense of urgency to tell those friends about Jesus? Not at all - God's justice is nothing to trifle with. But it also frees me from feeling responsible for "converting" my friends - I know I can't do it anyway, it has to be that irresistible call of the Spirit (hmm... "irresistible" - sounds predestinarian) that changes lives. And I know for a fact that God loves each and every one of us with a depth and breadth that is incomprehensible to me.

I look forward to that surprise - that day I get to heaven and see how God has worked all of this out. There may be a bit of the older brother in the Prodigal Son story in me - "but God... REALLY??? Whatever did HE do to get here??? I've been your servant all along and he gets the fatted calf?!?!?" But I hope that I will be too pleased with seeing how God has surprised us all, to get grouchy about it.

On Christian Unity

**WARNING** CHRISTIANESE SPOKEN HERE.

My brother and I got into this fascinating discussion about the church. Or maybe I should say, The Church. I have always thought that all the different denominations and varieties we have reflect our personal uniqueness and individuality in the sense that, there is always a church for everyone at every moment in their lives. I was raised American Baptist, but during college spent whatever Sundays I actually attended church at an Episcopalian service because I loved the reminder of the agelessness of my faith. I needed that at that point in my life. Over the years I have attended several different denominations, but I never really left my American Baptist roots. My brother didn't disagree, but his comment was, "but what constitutes the church? Is it a universal thing where all congregations fit in? Or is it a particular congregation or building?" Seems like an easy question - but he went on...

What's the marker of being a Christian? he asked.

Love. (At least in theory.)

What does institutionalized love look like? (what does it mean for an institution - like the Church - to love?)

Unity. (Again, at least in theory.)

So why is it that we have two "sacraments" we all agree on as Christians, but we can't even practice them together? Baptism is more universal - if you are baptized as an infant or adult it will work for most denominations. But still, some Baptists will not accept an infant baptism, and the Orthodox church does not accept baptism from any other denomination. But that's pretty good... a gap, but not a huge gap in how we practice that one.

Then there's the Lord's Supper / Communion / Eucharist. The Lord's Supper is communal - it's about sharing "a meal" with the community to commemorate the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. But the thing that is supposed to be about community has become horribly divisive in the Christian tradition. When he asked his Catholic students if they would participate in a Lord's Supper service in a baptist church (where the bread and "wine" are said to be symbolic of Jesus' body and blood, rather than actually becoming Jesus' body and blood) - his students unanimously said NO. And there are some baptists who would not participate in a Catholic Eucharist because of the differences in doctrine as well. Communion has become one of the most divisive acts in Christian tradition.

To my brother and I, that was rather inconceivable because he and I were brought up to be accepting of differences and, if put into a situation where we disagreed with something like that, to find the beauty in it and celebrate it in our own hearts the way we understand it. (Side note: this is probably why I can walk into a Mosque and walk through their worship service without taking issue - I'm glad to spend the time on my knees, praying to God - following the Muslim practices but mentally adjusting it to fit my own understanding of God and faith.)

So why is it that doctrine is so divisive, even in regard to the one act that is supposed to be most unifying and communal? I don't have any answers to that - just asking the question. If we are, indeed, to be One Church - the One Body of Jesus Christ - how can we be one without neglecting issues of doctrine and tradition, but using those to strengthen our unity rather than destroy it?

Cultural Context and Faith

I think I've said before that I am fascinated by the sociology of religion. What I mean by that is, how much we are influenced in our views about God by our social and ethnic surroundings? A person raised in Banglore will have a far different theology than one raised in Tokyo, than one raised in the jungles of Brazil, than one raised in the western United States. The question that haunts me is - is one more "right" than the others? I know... not a very good Christian thing to wonder, is it? Christians are taught that there is one way to know God and that is through Jesus Christ (Christian theologians call that "special revelation" - as opposed to "general revelation" which are those things that everyone can know about God through creation, etc.). I'm going to set aside that particular Christian affirmation for a little bit, just to see what happens. However, please don't get upset if you think I'm saying I don't believe that Jesus is the key - I do believe that. But I want to explore what happens when you open up to seeing God through a different lens.

I was talking to my brother yesterday - he's a lot of fun to talk to because he's a really smart guy and we have a lot of overlap in our areas of interest. He's a medieval history professor at a small Catholic college, so I started prodding him for information on some recent decrees the Pope made that seemed outrageous to me. He was able to put it into Catholic perspective for me... and the conversation drifted into how even Catholics and Protestants have such huge differences in the way we understand religion. His Catholic students can't wrap their minds around the idea that a single church can have full autonomy (a cornerstone of what it means to be Baptist - it means each individual congregation gets to choose everything about themselves and don't report to any greater authority other than God). It made me think how even our understanding of a "minor" detail of religious polity is so deeply based in our social context. Those Catholic students couldn't see the church as a democracy (basically, that is how Baptist churches function - and the lore goes that the United States' democratic republic system was taken from a Baptist polity book - so think checks and balances and you're on the right track to understanding how that works in a church). Whereas I have a really hard time understanding how so many people can follow a single, fallible, human being without questioning what he says or does. Especially when he says really stupid things (like calling the "attempted ordination" of women a grave crime against the church - grrr, although my brother sufficiently explained the thought process in that particular decree).

So take that another step further... let's just say that I'm born and raised in India and my family and culture teaches me that the Trimurta (the Hindu godhead - Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva) are actively engaged with humanity and working out their own purposes here on earth through their various avatars and demigods. How is it even possible to see the world differently, if that is all you know? So it's logical that you begin to worship whichever avatar of whichever god is considered your local deity - we'll say Krishna, since he's a popular character; an avatar of Vishnu. Krishna is playful and a bit mean at times - so you definitely want to keep him on your good side. You learn that the gods aren't really interested in you personally, but will use you and take advantage of whatever situation will bring about their own interests. God becomes a fearful prospect; unknowable and unreliable. But the ways in which Hindu spirituality has come to deal with their imperious gods are stunning. The deeply religious use a variety of different meditation, worship, and service techniques from which our western Christian culture could learn a great deal about devotion.

I think there is something really beautiful and truthful in Hindu religion, just as I see beauty and truth in Buddhism, Judaism, Islam, and Christianity (Protestant, Catholic, or Orthodox). I can learn so much about God if I keep my mind open to seeking out those kernels of truth from another expression of faith. How can I find God through another cultural perspective? What do I see in another religion that rings of truth? I hope that I have my eyes open enough to allow God to use any religious expression to teach me more about the character of God.

I think that's the purpose of religion anyway, right? It is a framework upon which we contruct our understanding of who God is and how God works. It was never intended to be a full-constructed box into which God would go sit quietly and wait to be let out.

Thoughts on Prayer

In my last post, I made a comment about praying for a parking space. A friend of mine sent me a message on Facebook about it, telling me that she uses those types of prayers as practice for a life of praying without ceasing, so when the big things come up her first response is to go to God with it. It's a great way to inhabit your life with God's presence - I will not disagree with that; in fact, I think it's a practice that has great validity. Recently, I have been trying to practice the "Jesus Prayer" - an ancient monastic practice wherein you rehearse the same phrase as a mantra-like experience. The phrase is practiced with breathing - breathe in, saying, "Lord Jesus Christ Son of God," and out, saying, "Have mercy on me, a sinner." It's an interesting practice - I managed a full 10 minutes once, before my mind started wandering off to other things. The monks who practice it "religiously" (pun intended) will say it 1000's of times in a day, spanning most of their waking hours. I'm not quite there. ;)

What I find frustrating about "parking space prayer" is when people try to control God using prayer as their marionette strings. If I am judging God's worthiness by whether or not I get to park three spaces closer to my destination on a rainy day - I misunderstand the purpose of faith altogether. Faith isn't about whether God gives you everything you want. I know some churches will teach that you will get everything you want if you ask with enough faith. I don't believe that at all. Jesus said to take up your cross and follow Him. That doesn't sound much like getting everything you want. Jesus said we would be oppressed, mocked and berated (just as He was) for following Him. Again, doesn't sound like the cushy life of someone who can pray for a great parking spot and get it because they really believed they would. I won't go so far as to say God WON'T give you a good parking spot if you ask. But to use that as a standard is a tragedy.

A few years ago, I was going through a rather tough period as Lent approached. Practicing Lent is not something that my faith tradition really does much, but since college I have tried to do something (a "give up" or a "pick up") each year for that season in an effort to participate in the suffering of Jesus and refocus my spiritual energy a little. Well, this particular year I had decided I was not going to do anything. I was somewhat figuring that I was giving up enough at that moment and didn't need to add something else - a rebellion of sorts, maybe. God had a different plan for me that Lent. Instead of giving something up of my own accord, God provided me with the opportunity to see others' pain. That sounds really weird, and trust me it was even more odd than it sounds (although in a very normal way - which made it even more strange). It's not that I could see the source of pain that people carried - that would feel like a peep show and would be uncharacteristic of God to give access to what only God should know. What I saw was like a brown aura that hovered around people - darker and thicker for those in the most pain. I saw it on people I knew, and people I didn't know... people walking down the street, and people with whom I spoke. The whole thing started on Ash Wednesday, and ended on Easter - although every so often I will get a glimpse still.

That experience was quite revealing to me. It felt like I was getting the tiniest introduction to seeing people the way God sees them. It didn't seem at all like I was ogling over another's grief. It really wasn't about the pain. With each vision I felt a deep, inner longing for that person to know healing, hope, and love. It was a feeling far beyond what I could conjure up myself - I don't typically start crying on behalf of someone walking down the street that I've never met. But in those moments I felt such an assurance that God's intervention was needed that I found myself instantly telling God about it. It was a compelling experience that drove me to a new level of understanding of the God-human relationship. It reminded me of the times it is said that Jesus looked over the crowd and felt an overwhelming compassion for them. I think that describes the experience quite well, in fact.

I have not told many people about this experience because it kinda makes me sound like a freak or a religious wacko. I'm not really - just an average person who needed to be shaken up a bit to get out of her own head for a while. But that experience taught me something about God. It taught me the depths of God's caring for others. The Greek word for "compassion" is splangthna (looks even funnier in Greek), which literally means "intestine." If you've ever found yourself feeling like you've been figuratively punched in the stomach over a few words or the action of another person - you get that feeling. It is when your gut is wrenched from emotion. I think that Lent brought me to a new level of understanding God's splangthna. And it compelled me to reach out to my Creator in a new way.

That experience also changed the way I thought about the whole idea of "praying without ceasing." Before, I had thought of it as talking to God all the time. Hard to do that when you're talking to a friend, or playing a game of soccer, or many of our everyday activities. That seems impossible to me. But after my Lenten experience I found myself understanding prayer without ceasing differently - it's not another standard to (fail to) live up to. It's how we experience the world. Do we consciously seek God in all things? Do we see God in the faces of others? Do we experience our human relationships as extensions of our God-relationship?

Wow, I could go so many different places with that idea... that brings up thoughts on Hindu spirituality and Christian sexuality to start off with. One at a time, one at a time... maybe I'll get to those, maybe not.

On Religion and Relationship

I am fascinated by religion, but I don't consider myself "religious." Religion is a human construct - not a God construct. God wants relationship, but us humans need to frame that somehow in a way we can understand it and express it. So we create religions that start out with good intent, but somehow or another get twisted along the way. Was it Marx who called religion the "opiate of the masses?" I get that, on one level, because religion does have the tendency to separate, define, and condemn - leading to the stifling of creativity and uniqueness, and causing a radicalism that alternatively oppresses its followers and those who do not follow. I get that sentiment, because so much of our "religiosity" comes from fluffy feelings and tugs on the emotional heart-strings. I can see what Marx is talking about when we sing worship songs, or do emotional tugs to create an effect. That stuff doesn't go over well with intellectuals - they see religious fervor as "dumbing down," or, "turning off the lights" (to quote a friend of mine).

Opiates are narcotics, which have the effect of numbing or loss of feeling. When he said that religion is the "opiate of the masses," Marx was saying that religion makes oppression (physical, economic, intellectual) tolerable, and thus hands over the control of the people to the religious authority. If that religious authority is corrupt in any way, the corruption only spreads if the people are immune to its poison. Religion can very easily become the scapegoat, the reason, the purpose behind an oppressive regime - and the more numb the people become, the more the power of oppression corrupts. I think that's what the Reformation was about - clearing out the corruption of the current regime and giving each person responsibility for their own understanding of God based on the revelation given (sola scriptura - scripture alone holds authority, not tradition - a HUGE counter against the Roman Catholic Church which held all Christian religious authority of that day).

But God is not a narcotic. If anything, belief in God calls us to greater responsibility for and greater awareness of our world. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the stuff of life, but my belief that God loves each person forces me to treat them differently than I would otherwise. My belief that God wants to have a relationship with each individual forces me to approach my interactions differently than what might come naturally. My nature is to be a very selfish person; egocentric and self-righteous. But because I believe that all persons have value in the eyes of my God - wow, I just can't be that selfish any more. I can't see the world through my Mona-colored glasses; I see it through God-colored glasses and it looks so different.

So... I don't say that I am "religious." I love God, I follow Christian teaching (because amongst all religions, it is best supported by what I know of God). But to me, God is the central factor, not theology. God desires relationship with me, and I am learning more and more that the deepest desire of my heart is to nurture that relationship with God.

Early morning ramblings on the nature of love

So last night in Bible study we talked about love... not that ooey gooey fuzzy feeling you get, but real love that goes beyond the feelings and translates into action. When I love someone, I want to show my love to them in ways they can receive it. My son is a very physically affectionate child, and I always know that after he's gotten into trouble the best thing I can do for him is to give him a big hug. Sure I can tell him that I love him, but he will mumble something back to me and walk away looking like that backpack he' is wearing has got a load of bricks in it. But if I give him a hug, he will cling to me as if his life depended on it, and when he finally lets go he bounces away with his backpack on as if it's the lightest thing in the world.

Loving someone is hard. Sure it might come with the ooey gooey, gushy feelings... but it also comes with pain and heartache. Not like a broken heart type of heartache (although that happens, too), but,"I want so much for this person and it breaks my heart that I can't give it to them," or, "I hate to see her cry," or even, "This is what I want, but it is not what is best for this person I love so I will not take it/do it/etc." That is painful. Even, at times, we have to cause pain for our loved ones in order to love them well. Ouch.

I was talking to my best friend about a particular situation I really do not know how to manage - I foresee, at best, hurt feelings, and at worst, anger. The people involved are all people that I love... and dearly. My friend said, "I guess the question is, what does it mean to love each person in this situation?" With that as the bar with which I measure my actions, I certainly hope that the hurt feelings and anger can be mitigated a bit. But it will be painful nonetheless.

I think that's the thing about God's love that resonates into the deepest spaces in my heart. God knew that loving us humans was going to cause a lot of personal pain and suffering. But, God loved us anyway. God loved us in a way that we could receive (not that we all do) - a way that our fractured human souls could see, touch, hear, smell, taste.

There is a song by Out of the Grey, called, "Love Like Breathing."

There are times I catch my breath, just to let it go again
Funny how I don't forget to breathe
The air it comes and goes with or without my control
Something in me just takes over

I want to love like breathing, spontaneous, like breathing
Imagine just how lovely it would be

That is the desire of my heart... to love as easily as I take each breath. It is hard to do - especially with people who are annoying or frustrating. But then I think how God loves me even when I'm disobedient, not paying attention, and (I'm sure) extremely frustrating. All those "5 Love Languages" I manage to do the opposite with God, and yet God's love is offered to me daily, hourly, every moment with every breath. I'm trying to learn to breathe in God's love, and breathe it out to others.