Author Archives: hummingbird

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Blood, Ash, Tears: The Ashiest of Days

We are too removed from ash.

Our furnaces soil our hands only as much as a stray clump of dust falls from the filter when we wrinkle our nose and change it with another high-efficiency, allergen-reducing plane of fibers designed to keep our lives clean.

Maybe there’s a stray bonfire, an occasional fireplace mess that dirties our palms or leaves a smudge – extra, chosen warmth for recreational purposes.

If you and I see ash it’s usually on the news, somewhere far away: the 90’s business women with ash around their noses and mouths, the result of breathing in smoke, emerging from the first foreboding basement bombing of the World Trade Center in New York. The dusty, sooty cheeks and noses and foreheads of the bombed and shot-at and chased in Other Parts Of The World as loved ones are pulled limp from rubble. The dazed eyes crinkled in old war photos, peering stark from ash and dirt, smoke-caked faces hiding shellshock.

Lucky us. We get to choose our ash.

Why has ash become #chic? Growing up only the old-school Catholics wore it on their heads and my child eyes tried hard not to stare. “What is Ash Wednesday?” I pointed to the calendar, asking a parent. “A Catholic holiday,” I was told, until our denomination started observing “40 Days of Prayer and Fasting,” and a blink and a few boy bands and technological advances later and there are ashes to go, there are people who never go to church bending and asking for dirty foreheads, what?

What is this impulse for a mark of sorrow, grief, repentance, confession? Why are strangers at train stations asking for ash, in our culture that let black arm bands of mourning drift down to the floor, an old dated practice to be left by the wayside?

Complaint or neuroses or hoarding or entitlement all cover one thing: call it sadness or terror or emptiness or grief, it’s behind the rant at the employee or the compulsive behavior or longing for attention. Mother Teresa spent so much time in dirt and recognized the sadness in North America. She called it a poverty of love.

Oh, God, love – it hurts. It hurts to want to be loved. It hurts to refuse or betray love. It hurts to lose love. And the pastor or priest bending with blackened thumb, murmuring says, I see your pain. It is recognized. Today others will see it too. You have a chance. Love Made Flesh bleeds for you.

Communal grief is necessary. You might stumble on a rare wake among Irish Catholics, or a Jewish family sitting shiva. For the most part, grief has become privatized, something you discuss with a therapist and hide away from the world – unless you sink down into it, let it engulf you, put it in album form and earn a deal with a record label.

Maybe we get to choose our ash. But we don’t get to choose our grief. No President can carry it away, no amount of veganism can remove our guilt, no amount of safe space can really protect us. You play Candy Crush or sew a new quilt or join a fantasy football league or secretly read Fifty Shades of Grey or join a club, anything to distract, but we all close our eyes at night, trying to go to sleep. And whatever you try to numb during waking hours comes to life.

Do not feed after midnight…

I’ve been waiting for this day, ever since two days before Christmas, when weeks of wrapping paper and pain and the Grinch and blood finally contracted into finality, and I avoided looking at my beloved nativity set because Mary had her baby, and mine was lost, the heartbeat ended.

Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel – born is the King of Israel.

My favorite time of year screeching out of control, the beautiful depth of the liturgical calendar and Advent and hang on, little buddy, is it a boy or girl? Then the baby is gone, missing from the manger. Two children up at six on Christmas morning, starry-eyed and bouncing and laughing. I smile and laugh, turn my head, try to hide the grimace of pain, the tears rolling hot.

Chunks of grace, substantive and heavy, held the doors of our souls open. A girl named Micah wrote this, published it just a couple of days after Christmas when I was sure there was nothing in a devotional email pertaining to an Advent miscarriage.

I’ve been waiting for this day, this thundercloud of a day on the horizon of church life, when liturgy would finally match my insides. I do not want a sunny day when I’m sad.

The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

From dust you come, to dust you shall return. Repent and believe the Gospel.

Your body is feeble. Every life involves pain.

Today we acknowledge it.

And we confess not only our frailty but our hope that blood, ash, and tears do not have the last word. In Revelation, blood and smoke and tears can indicate new life.

“And when he had taken it, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb. Each one had a harp and they were holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of God’s people. And they sang a new song, saying:

You are worthy to take the scroll
and to open its seals,
because you were slain,
and with your blood you purchased for God
persons from every tribe and language and people and nation.
You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God,
and they will reign on the earth.

Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!'”

We are dust without you, God.

Your Kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…

Make us new creatures. We can’t live this life without you.

Amen.

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Good Reads

Sometimes in the frazzled frenzy of Life Every Day, you feel a tug to retreat even momentarily into an imaginary monk’s cell of silence for a sanity-saving minute of prayer or reflection or prayer and reflection – sometimes it’s hard to distinguish between the two.

If your soul and mind need quieted and fed at the bird feeder before flying off into the storm again, here are a few good reads from around the online meadow. Maybe one of them will sustain you in flight. Sparrows aren’t forgotten, no matter what tasks on your to-do list regularly slip your mind.

Eugene Peterson’s old “The Unbusy Pastor” has resurfaced. It is worth a(nother) read (click here) more than almost anything else that comes clunking into your inbox.

If I vainly crowd my day with conspicuous activity, or let others fill my day with imperious demands, I don’t have time to do my proper work, the work to which I have been called, the work of pastor. How can I lead people into the quiet place beside the still waters if I am in perpetual motion? How can I convincingly persuade a person to live by faith and not by works if I have to constantly juggle my schedule to make everything fit into place?

If I’m not busy making my mark in the world and not busy doing what everyone expects me to do, what do I do? What is my proper work? What does it mean to be a pastor? If I had no personal needs to be fulfilled, what would I do? If no one asked me to do anything, what would I do? Three things…

Dr. Timothy Tennent is revealing some interesting findings from 60,000 miles of travel. The Asbury Theological Seminary President has ministry experience on four continents and this past summer, he traveled to five. His thoughts on “Escaping the Fog” will have you reflecting over days and weeks.

When you walk into a vibrant church you can immediately sense the difference.  At every point you meet gospel clarity.  The church exudes confidence in the unique work of Jesus Christ.  They understand the power and authority of God’s Word.  They feel the lostness of the world and the urgency to bring the good news to everyone.   At every point you observe gospel clarity.

In contrast, when you walk into the churches in decline you are immediately brought into “the Fog.”  What is the fog?  It is the inability to be clear about anything.  There is no clarity about who Jesus Christ is and what He has done.  There is no clarity about the Scriptures as the authoritative Word of God.  There is no clarity about the urgency to reach the lost.   When you listen to a sermon, you go away shaking your head, saying, “What exactly did he or she actually say?”

As we edge closer to Ash Wednesday, these words from The Wesleyan Church General Superintendent Dr. Jo Anne Lyon are worth mulling over. In 2014, she spent time in Washington, D.C. fasting with people she had never met – an oddly anointed and overlooked communal discipline. Let us know how you incorporate some of these principles in your own church Lenten practices.

Do you need your wonder and imagination restored? A German forester has written a fascinating book – on trees. It turns out that while human nature is to miss the forest for the trees, this man’s knowledge illuminates the communal life of trees – their intricate networks and means of communication. In charmingly anthropomorphic language, he describes forest life – read the New York Times article about his journey caretaking forests. Close your eyes and think of J.R.R. Tolkein and, farther back, Eden. After all,

You will go out in joy
    and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
    will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
    will clap their hands…

-Isaiah 55:12

Sometimes it’s easy to feel smothered by the inevitable chronological egocentrism that defines our communal life together. In other words, we get near-sighted about topics that affect us and sometimes lose perspective due to our focus on our own lives. World Methodist Evangelism has put together a fun Pinterest page titled, “Roots Matter.” An eclectic collection of old photos, portraits, biographies, and Wesleyan Methodist “ephemera” stretches around the globe and across time. You might need to browse a moment over a photo of the first missionary in Korea to use a motorcycle (a Methodist) to regain perspective in time for that committee meeting about carpet colors.

Apparently at one point Wesleyan Methodists were known for their buns. And not just the circuit riders who spent all that time riding horseback. Cornish saffron buns (also known as “revel buns” or “tea treats”) are baked goods celebrated in Cornwall back to the point at which it was defined by tin mines. And it was Methodist groups and societies who baked the treats for the community for special events. Apparently, they were quite good with clotted cream on Good Friday. For a recipe with North American measurements, click here.

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Leadership Qualities that Can’t Be Faked

Leadership is a tricky subject.

I had a great college professor who modeled it, taught it, instilled it, and theorized about it (only a rare person can do all of those things). He posed a question: are you born with leadership abilities, or are they learned? (A probable admittedly false dichotomy, to be sure, but a great way to think about how one gains the qualities of leadership.)

Rather late to the party, I watched the painfully exquisite Band of Brothers miniseries (2001), a carefully rendered tribute to a deep slice of modern history. “Band of Brothers” follows American paratroopers who served in Europe in WWII. The men were real, the stories are real, it all really happened – a fact which shakes me. It ought to shake all of us.

I’m in a generation that’s extraordinarily cynical about leaders, largely because of scandal in every sector and at every level of public life. A President misuses power in the Oval Office, Catholic priests are brought up on charges around the world, Congressmen and Governors accidentally Tweet explicit photos or try to sell Senate seats, Bernie Madoff bilks millions, star athletes admit to doping, unarmed Black men are strangled and shot in the back by police officers, 40% of North American pastors surveyed admit to using pornography. The development of the internet means we don’t learn of things slowly – we’re bombarded by information almost as soon as something happens.

Whether or not it’s fair, integrity isn’t assumed. Lack of integrity is.

It is assumed there’s a dichotomy in your life between image and reality – an Instagram filter, if you like. Everyone knows you take 20 selfies to get one good one, right? So the Sunday morning you – why would I assume that’s the real “you”?

There’s good news and bad news. The good news is that the world desperately needs strong leaders. Leaders won’t have to go busking on street corners with their guitars for loose change. Additionally, the good news is that there are still strong leaders in the world.

The bad news is that it costs. Additionally, the bad news is that many strong leaders don’t get much recognition.

Here are a few of the leadership qualities that can’t be faked. The hard part is answering whether you and I are willing to be the real deal, when a Photoshopped head shot is so much faster and easier.

You can’t fake sacrifice.

You can fake generosity, though. But real sacrifice – real sacrifice – isn’t faked. Usually only a few people know about it. When someone talks too readily about themselves and their sacrifices, watch out: often, real sacrifice is learned of from and through others.

To take the battlefield imagery alluded to above, you can fake generosity by offering to do something you were already signed up to do. But you can’t fake the sacrifice of offering to go on a patrol so someone else can rest or sharing the last of your supplies.

If you’re not willing to sacrifice regularly and quietly, don’t be surprised when people follow you when you’re successful but abandon you when the going gets tough.

You can’t fake humility.

False humility is visible a mile away. False humility still finds a way to put other people down privately and publicly. False humility asks followers to do things the leader isn’t willing to do. False humility gets mean at perceived slights. False humility goes hand in hand with a strong self-protective instinct. It sees humility as a social tool rather than a quality of Jesus Christ.

Real humility is comfortable with confidence – in the right things. Real humility doesn’t take potshots at others in order to masquerade as wisdom. Real humility leads from the front and picks up the cleaning rag first, not last. Real humility means a mild response when someone insults you. Real humility puts self-preservation to death.

You can’t fake consistency.

This doesn’t mean glossing over temperamental differences and personality traits. It does mean that whether you discipline yourself to become knowledgeable about property insurance or Greek verbs, the latest studies on PTSD or the life of Bonhoeffer, you see discipline and consistency as qualities that allow you to serve others better when the moment arises.

Or as Major Dick Winters put it (portrayed in “Band of Brothers,” he fought at Normandy, in Holland, and at the Battle of the Bulge), “war exposes the best and worst of those who are called to fight. I know of no man who lacked character in peace and then discovered his character in combat.”

There are very few leadership qualities that can’t be faked. You and I both know that real leadership costs something – and that every newly elected President of the United States who has worked hard to prove him or herself a worthy leader finds out quickly just what it costs to be one of the leaders of the free world.

What leadership qualities are you tempted to skate by on? What leadership qualities are valued by your peers? Do your peers value apparent leadership qualities easier to counterfeit or do they value less-apparent qualities harder to fake?

We want to follow Jesus Christ faithfully – don’t we?

After all – we live in a shell-shocked, battle-weary world.

Are we willing to raise a hand?

“Here am I…

send me.”

Featured image courtesy Tyler Callahan on Unsplash

Kimberly Reisman ~ The “E” Word, or, We Don’t Talk About That in Polite Company

A few years ago, I was at an art exhibit with my husband when we ran into an acquaintance of mine from the community. As we introduced our respective spouses, he mentioned to his wife that I was working on my PhD, but he was unsure of the area. When I replied, the theology of evangelism, both he and his wife physically recoiled with expressions of horror. He was immediately embarrassed that their response had been both so negative and so visible, and he attempted to recover by stammering, “Evangelism, wow. I never would have thought. You’ve always struck me as being so open-minded.”

Not for the first time, I struggled to explain that evangelism and open-mindedness were not mutually exclusive, with one clearly preferable to other.

Repeatedly, across denominations, both within and outside the church, I have encountered hesitation, frustration, misunderstanding, denial, negativity, and even outright hostility in response to the entire topic of evangelism. Few people, it seems – at least in Western context, are comfortable talking about evangelism, much less engaging in it.

Kudos to Ed Stezter (@edstetzer) for pointing this out recently. He’s spot on when he says, “Today, too many of us roll our eyes at evangelism strategies, calling them hokey and ineffective, and, instead of coming up with other evangelism strategies, we just don’t evangelize.”

Double kudos to Ed for not just talking, but doing. He’s organizing a conference and convocation to mobilize the church for evangelism. He’s calling it Amplify and it will focus on learning what others are doing and (most importantly in my opinion), cultivating “a lifestyle of showing and sharing the love of Jesus.” I’m honored to be able to be a part of this gathering and look forward to the way God will move when we come together.

Here on the Methodist/Wesleyan branch of the Christian family tree, we’re also doing our part. Since 1996 we’ve been gathering for the Order of the Flame conference to instill in young pastors the DNA of evangelism, to help them see that evangelism lies (or should lie) at the heart of all that we do. As evangelism is holistic, the focus of the Flame conference is also holistic: not only on equipping and training, but on spiritual renewal and the strengthening of faith.

We’ll be celebrating the 20th anniversary of the Flame conference March 14-18, 2016 at Epworth-by-the-Sea on St. Simon’s Island, Georgia. As in years past, there will be an invited group of new members for the Order; but to commemorate our anniversary year, we are offering existing members of the Flame the opportunity to return. As we gather old and new members of the Flame, we expect our time together to be marked by spiritual refreshment, celebration, the fostering of community, and encounters with the Holy Spirit.

Unique to this Flame conference, we will provide new learning opportunities for both returning and first time participants. New members will be able to experience the strong teaching that has marked all Flame conferences, while returning members will be exposed to a fresh crop of gifted speakers such as Andrew Forrest, Rosario “Roz” Picardo, Brent La Prince Edwards, Jeremy Steele, and others. All will encounter Holy Spirit-inspired worship, strong bible teaching, breakout sessions, and other opportunities for growth and learning.

I share Ed Stetzer’s desire to cultivate a lifestyle of showing and sharing the love of Jesus. I’m excited to be a part of what he is doing and excited about what World Methodist Evangelism is doing as well. These are two great opportunities to more fully embrace the call to share the love of Christ with a hurting world. I hope you’ll join us for Amplify and, if you’re a member of the Order of the Flame, I hope you’ll return for the 20thanniversary celebration.

To register for the Order of the Flame, contact World Methodist Evangelism.

 

Featured image courtesy Neal E. Johnson via Unsplash.

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Testify: Many Voices, One Song

Note from the Editor: Wesleyan Accent is pleased to share a rich chorus of voices who have answered questions posed in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Participants considered the following questions: 

Growing up, who did you look up to? Who did you want to emulate?

Growing up, I wanted to emulate my mother. She had such amazing style and strength. She grew up in the segregated South, the daughter of an interracial couple (a black mother and a white father). She was always involved in our community, speaking out on issues, and taking a stand.

– Rev. Yvette Blair Lavallais, Associate Pastor: St. Luke’s Community UMC, Dallas, Texas

Years ago my uncle, who was a history teacher at Evanston Township high school, had a picture of Dr. King on his wall. And there was a snippet of a quote. “The time is always ripe to do right”…For years that line always stayed in my soul, even when I didn’t really know what it meant. I looked up to my uncle. I would often help him organize all of his classroom papers. He would talk to me about black history. I was always fascinated with the “Eyes on the Prize” series. That’s where I really began to understand the struggle of Africa Americans in America.

– Rev. Marlan Branch, Pastor: River of Life AME Church, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

I looked up to my grandmother, because I thought she was the funniest, hardest working, craziest
person ever and all these people that would come to her house or we would run into somewhere genuinely loved her, so I wanted to be her.

-Makayla Burnham, Student Leader: The Wesley Foundation of Wichita Falls, Texas

Definitely my father. He taught me to be proud of who I am as a black man, to work hard, and get an education so that I would not be overlooked for promising opportunities. One of the most valuable lessons learned from my dad was that as a black man in America, I always needed to work twice as hard just to be somewhat equal to my white counterparts; and three times harder to get ahead. But his Christian example in our home and his savvy business sense is why I will always seek to emulate my dad.

-Dr. Kevin Murriel, Senior Pastor: Cliftondale UMC, College Park, Georgia

Growing up, I most wanted to emulate my mother. She showed incredible strength in difficult situations — most notable being a single mother to five girls. No matter what obstacle came her way, she had the strength to overcome it. She was a praying woman and before most people knew anything about a “War Room” my mother had dedicated one room in our house to prayer. I wanted to be like her, a woman of strength and prayer.

-Rev. Karen Bates, MDiv: Alabaster Box Ministry Services, Bowie, Maryland

What is your first memory of the name “Dr. King”?

Because I’m from a rural and conservative hometown in south central Pennsylvania, it was rare to learn about black men and women who were whitewashed from our textbooks outside of home or church. So my first lessons about the Civil Rights Movement and the men and women who led it like Martin Luther King, Clarence Mitchell, Thurgood Marshall, Daisy Bates, Rosa Parks, Joseph DeLaine and so many others were from my Grandmother and Mother. They demanded that I emulate these men and women and commit my life for justice as well. Because of their model I continue to work to establish and maintain a nonviolent culture on the streets of Rochester, New York where I serve.

– Rev. James C. Simmons, Senior Pastor: Baber AME Church, Rochester, New York

I don’t remember the year that I first learned about Dr. King, but I do remember the story that surrounded the introduction. I vividly recall the time my dad, a United Methodist pastor, told me about his first time being confronted with “Whites Only” drinking fountains and rest rooms while on a road trip during his years at Wesley Theological Seminary. The year was 1961 and my dad was returning to Washington, DC from spring break in Florida when he stopped at a gas station to use the restroom. Appalled at the condition of the restroom, my dad complained to the service attendant. “That restroom is a mess,” he reported. “It is?” replied the attendant. “Oh, you went in the wrong restroom. That is for ‘Colored People.’ You were supposed to go into the ‘Whites Only’ restroom.”
Raised as a farm boy in rural Pennsylvania, my dad had never been exposed to “Colored Only” restrooms or “Whites Only” water fountains. My dad’s traveling companion from seminary counseled my dad to just get back in the car and forget about the ugly experience. No such luck. In no uncertain terms, my dad made it clear to the attendant that the conditions of the restrooms were inexcusable and that the restrooms should be open to all men. My dad’s scolding may have only had a temporary effect on the attendant who grew up in a segregated culture, but that lesson was etched deeply into my soul.

– Steve Beard, Editor-in-Chief: Good News magazine

My first memory of the name Dr. King was from a movie that’s called, “Our friend, Martin” and I thought the man speaking gave great speeches – but I also thought at a young age, from that movie, that Dr.King really liked walking!

– Makayla Burnham

My earliest memory of Dr. King is when I was four years old attending preschool at Bethel AME. I was born the year after King was assassinated. Our church wanted to make sure we knew who King was and what he stood for. Back then, TV went “off” every night around 11pm and each station would play excerpts from Dr. King’s “I Have A Dream” speech.

– Rev. Yvette Blair Lavallais

My first memory of the name Dr. King was in church. Each year we had to recite a speech during Black History Month and our Sunday school teachers made sure we knew about the significant contributions of Dr. King and others to American history. Church taught us things about the Civil Rights Movement and its heroes that our school system never took the time to teach us.

– Dr. Kevin Murriel

If you could do one thing in the next year to impact national and international race relations, what would it be?

The one area of national race relations that I hope to impact this year is helping people understand that Black Live Matters is not about race, but about justice. Until all lives are given the same value, there is an inequality that exists in this nation and it must be addressed. We have to understand that it is a continuation of the work of Dr. King and a reminder that all men are created equal. Until the scales of justice balance, there is work to do.

-Rev. Karen Bates

If there was one area of national or international race relations I could directly impact this year, it would be the attitude of evangelical Christians towards immigrants and refugees. My feeling is that much of the anti-immigrant and anti-refugee sentiments that came from many Christians this past year (especially in Facebook posts!) finds its origin in racism. While many of these Christians claim they just want to keep America safe, ironically the best thing they could do to make America safe is by showing love to our “enemies” (people different than us). I love this quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.: “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.” If Americans were to feed, clothe, and educate Muslims around the world, it would be a lot harder for IS to recruit them to harm Americans!

– Rev. Daniel Szombathy, Senior Pastor: Journey Church, Robinson, Illinois

One area of race relations that I probably could impact this year would be awareness of any individual’s culture, religion, or background, so there’s a level of accountability to respect another person’s history.

-Makayla Burnham

One area of race relations that I’d like to directly impact is the disparity in our educational system. Hispanic and African American students in lower socioeconomic neighborhoods often are not exposed to the same textbooks, learning opportunities, and academic information as their white counterparts. Just because children are on the free or reduced lunch program does not mean they should be treated with reduced learning opportunities. I’d like to see intentional investment in the academic excellence of all students regardless to race, ethnicity and socioeconomic status.

– Rev. Yvette Blair Lavallais

“The time is always ripe to do right” – that quote is really where I wish I could get people to begin to work out, especially in race relations: there are so many on both sides who know the truth but for whatever reason choose to stay silent and not speak. I dream for the Beloved community, the community that King began to speak of right before his death. We will not heal as a people until we believe that we are all God’s creation, equal in potential and promise and presence.

– Rev. Marlan Branch

There are many areas of concern, but I truly want to help the Church better understand its role in racial reconciliation. The Church should be leading the effort towards greater race relations. It is the prophetic voice of the Christian collective that has the power to transform the world following the example of Christ. My personal mission and commitment is to keep this perspective in front of the people of God in hopes that our culture of racism and prejudice will change as the Church stands for what is righteous.

-Dr. Kevin Murriel

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Everyday Saints: Faith and Cancer

 

“Unified and fearless, we charge ahead into a fun and adventurous life as a family. We are kind-hearted and fervently loving toward each other. We serve others to enrich their lives. Jesus is our strength and our song.” – The Jones Family Mission Statement

A year and a half ago I felt kicked in the gut. A dear friend’s sister-in-law – a young mother, wife of an Air Force pilot – had cancer.

Bad.

I raged at the universe that night. Since entering my thirties, I’ve entered a macabre new stage of life: the mortality of peers stage. A respected college acquaintance dying on an Ohio highway, leaving her husband, five children, and faith community behind; a church planter friend of several of my friends in my small home denomination who came home from the gym to find his pregnant wife dying after their home had been robbed.

My rage sits oddly beside the fact that I really enjoy conducting funerals, even when they’ve been tough. It sits oddly beside my curiosity in the anthropological side of death – burial rituals of southeast Asian tribes or funeral practices of the earliest Christians, martyr’s bones decked out in valuable jewels or the (to me) mysterious folk practice of North Americans who leave balloons and flowers, not at graves, but at sites of death.

It’s the same rage that made me literally stamp my foot when a favorite old cantankerous codger died at the nursing home where I worked for a while.

But this isn’t about my rage.

It’s about Lori Jones’ peace and faith.

Lori has been enrolled in hospice – and un-enrolled. She’s been through multiple kinds of chemo, of drugs that required special special permission to try. And while she uses words like peace and faith, I keep thinking of the word grace.

I think it’s because her peace and faith become grace to the rest of us.

The daughter-in-law of a now-retired United Methodist pastor has, in the middle of treatments for her terminal cancer…launched a website.

A really good one.

And isn’t that part of what a saint does or who a saint is? Someone whose spiritual virtues become grace to us in our trek of faith? Lori’s peace, Lori’s faith, are now a widely available grace to others. As I think of everyday saints in this new year – people who I want to emulate in the best way possible – I look forward to sharing about people like Lori. Recently, reflecting about resolutions, I posed this challenge to Facebook:

Think of one person you admire. Think of one thing they do that sticks out to you. Now think of your average day. How might you do that thing or a version of that thing in the stretch of an average day?

Write that action or quality and post it on your mirror. Honor them this year by beginning to practice your small embodiment of that action or quality.

Resolutions are individualistic. Qualities and virtues are found in community.

We need to mimic the Christlike qualities we experience in other people, whether it’s someone who died 500 years ago or someone down the street. While we hear a lot about brokenness and sin and humility, we damn ourselves to missing out on the promises of God if we don’t highlight and celebrate virtue, fruits of the Spirit, and transformation.

Sometimes it’s easier to understand faith or patience or hope or joy when we see it mid-narrative, embodied by a real person with a real biography and real struggles, not just as an abstract word flourished on an inspirational poster.

Or, in Lori’s own tested and battle-worn words: “I am a 34-year-old mother of three (6,4,2) married to a wonderful husband (Mark) who is an Air Force pilot. I was diagnosed with metastatic Triple Negative Breast Cancer (TNBC) when I was 32 (BRCA1 +). Since then, our family has been through so much together! We have resolved to live life without fear!”

Because just a few days before her diagnosis, the Jones family had come up with the family mission statement above: “Unified and fearless, we charge ahead into a fun and adventurous life as a family. We are kind-hearted and fervently loving toward each other. We serve others to enrich their lives. Jesus is our strength and our song.”

I pray you note something in someone’s life this year, 2016, that you see and recognize as beautiful and worthy of copying. I pray God gives you the grace to, in some small way, introduce it into your own daily rhythm of action and response and being. Whoever that may be for you, whatever their quality – the consistency of a beloved grandparent, the generosity of a friend, the quiet prayer of someone you’re attempting to minister to – I hope it finds a home in your heart.

And maybe you need Lori to be one of those people for you. Maybe you know someone who needs to be sustained by some grace, and Lori’s peace can be a measure of that grace.

She’s put together a practical website designed to help people navigate a tough cancer diagnosis.

It’s also an inspirational website, displaying the timeline of her treatment, diagnoses, ups and downs.

It’s an intensely personal website, updated with current challenges and treatment decisions, yet very much a testimony to the God of heaven and earth.

And it’s a formational website, a place where Lori occasionally writes short devotionals on a variety of topics.

To read a devotional reflection written by someone with terminal cancer – now that is grace indeed. This is not a website – or a story – of platitudes. It’s a site and a story of deliberately chosen adventurous fortitude, by God’s grace.

While the web address is www.peaceincancer.com, the name of the website – without irony or bitterness – is simple: This Ideal Life…

May it be grace for your journey, whatever this year holds.

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Kimberly Reisman ~ Three Things You Need to Know about Refugees

I thought I knew the extent of the refugee crisis until I was invited to a gathering of Christian leaders to discuss how Christians can better respond. Turns out there’s a lot I didn’t know. I’m betting I’m not the only one, so here are three significant bits of info:

ONE

The numbers are staggering. 59.9 million forcibly displaced persons worldwide.

Never have so many people been recorded as being displaced, put in danger and forced to move. Globally, 1 in every 122 humans are classified as refugees, internally displaced, or seeking asylum. If we put them all in one place, they would be the 24th largest country in the world (right behind Italy.)

TWO

Half of all people displaced by political and military conflicts are children. That’s almost 30 million kids.

THREE

Refugees possess the image of God and therefore are infinitely valuable to God.

All persons, regardless of citizenship, ethnicity, or religion, are made in God’s image. It is precisely because we bear God’s image that every human has inherent worth and that every person, regardless of nationality or any other differentiating marker, deserves to be treated with respect and dignity. Because refugees are infinitely valuable to God, they are (or should be) infinitely valuable to us.

As Christians, number three must always provide the foundation for our decision-making regarding refugees. If this truth is not enough, we would do well to recall – especially in these days after Christmas – that the Gospels tell us about Jesus as a refugee child, whose family was forced to flee to Egypt to escape the wrath of a murderous monarch.

This is not an easy issue and governments are rightfully responsible for matters of security.

But we are not the government – we are the body of Christ.

And as the body of Christ we are called to care for the hurting, embrace the stranger among us, and show the love of Jesus to those in desperate need. This is what Jesus did; he cared compassionately for the vulnerable and brought peace to those in despair.

Our calendars have moved beyond Christmas and we wind our way toward Epiphany, the season that marks the arrival of the magi to worship Jesus. With the arrival of the Magi, came the warning to Joseph to flee, to become a refugee seeking protection and safety in a foreign land.

In the midst of this dramatic human crisis, that must be the starting point for our reflection.

 

***Christians are coming together to address ways in which we can respond to this unprecedented crisis. Here are two links for more information:

Christian Declaration on Caring for Refugees

GC2: Great Commandment + Great Commission

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ The Most Underrated New Year’s Prayer

It’s my (not unkindly meant) guess that tomorrow’s slew of sermons across North America and probably other parts of the world are, in the main, fairly predictable: having grown up as a pastor’s kid, a pastor’s grandkid, pastors’ niece, now pastor’s daughter-in-law, and having preached three years myself, along with having a great number of valued friends in ministry – well, sometimes one can feel along with the famed biblical text that there is nothing new under the sun.

Not that the Word of God doesn’t hold an inspired moment of revelation and transformation for us every time its opened: it does, by the grace of the Triune God, whether or not we feel it or realize it. And by God’s grace, you or I could hear the same sermon every Sunday for a year and grow remarkably through it.

Pastors, parishioners, hear this truth: the Word of God has beauty, truth that is worth hearing, observing, listening to, reading, singing, painting, proclaiming, on its own merit. You don’t have to dress it in a fancy hat, set fireworks off over it or make it go viral. You do have to submit to its terrible, beautiful power: but that’s a very different thing than feeling like Sunday worship is the time of the week you have to market Christianity.

It is in the hard road of following Jesus Christ himself that the Spirit of God sweeps across lands and populations. Actual, painful, weighty life change as we, like Bunyan’s pilgrims, climb, is used by the Spirit in a haunting way – the way that costs.

And so we come to one of the most underrated prayers for the New Year, quietly tucked in a humble corner of the New Testament. “And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart,” wrote the Apostle Paul in a letter to the Galatians.

Let us not grow weary while doing good.

That’s the big New Year fear, isn’t it? That we’ll grow weary of carrying out our resolutions. That we’ll grow weary of driving to the gym in cold wind. That we’ll grow weary of eating lettuce instead of crispy golden potato wedges. That we’ll grow weary of monitoring our spending, going on another blind date, volunteering at the dingy soup kitchen.

Or worse, we think – that we’ll grow weary of extra Bible reading. That we’ll grow weary of an early alarm allowing us 15 extra minutes for prayer. That we’ll grow weary of helping with Vacation Bible School. That we’ll grow weary of singing hymns in a cramped nursing home activity room smelling of stale urine. That we’ll grow weary of bearing with our obnoxious neighbor who we secretly hope never visits our church – our church: our safe haven, our refuge, interrupted by the person we avoid.

Let us not grow weary while doing good.

G.K. Chesterton captured this with stark but hopeful clarity:

Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.

Let us not grow weary of doing good: no running down the clock here. Lord, let us not grow weary of doing good this year. Our world groans and lurches. We read how we can feel overwhelmed by the sheer scale of suffering, but God calls us to serve one more anyway. In the middle of shootings and terror, Ebola and malaria, cancer and autism, addiction and infertility, let us not grow weary of doing good. In the midst of cruelty and hurt, loss and abuse, panic and depression, anger and pride, let us not grow weary of doing good.

Mother Teresa described it this way:

What we need is to love without getting tired. How does a lamp burn? Through the continuous input of small drops of oil. What are these drops of oil in our lamps? They are the small things of daily life: faithfulness, small words of kindness, a thought for others, our way of being silent, of looking, of speaking, and of acting. Do not look for Jesus away from yourselves. He is not out there; He is in you. Keep your lamp burning, and you will recognize Him.

These words of Jesus, “Even as I have loved you that you also love one another,” should be not only a light to us, but they should also be a flame consuming the selfishness that prevents the growth of holiness. Jesus “loved us to the end,” to the very limit of love: the cross. This love must come from within, from our union with Christ. Loving must be as normal to us as living and breathing, day after day until our death.

When we handle the sick and the needy we touch the suffering body of Christ and this touch will make us heroic; it will make us forget the repugnance and the natural tendencies in us. We need the eyes of deep faith to see Christ in the broken body and dirty clothes under which the most beautiful one among the sons of men hides. We shall need the hands of Christ to touch these bodies wounded by pain and suffering. Intense love does not measure-it just gives.

What indicators in your life light up when you’re getting weary? Do you binge-watch television, finish off the pint of ice cream, overexercise compulsively, shout at loved ones, drink a shot or three of whiskey, gossip on the phone, click on the site you avoid, miss the appointment with the friend who knows you so well?

This year, catch yourself when you’re starting to get weary. Ask why. Look around at your life. Friend, it does not all rest on your shoulders; if it feels like it does, something is awry. But next December, if you’re able to look back and point to moments when you persisted in doing good, persisted in hope, persisted in humor, persisted in grace, persisted in humility – then it will have been a good year.

Let us not grow weary of doing good…Father, Son, Holy Spirit, may it be so.

Kimberly Reisman ~ Darkness: Why Advent Breaks My Heart

I’m an Advent geek. I love it. I treasure the familiar feelings my faith evokes during this time of year – a deep and abiding sense of hope, expectancy, and joy. I love the preparations – the feeling of my house as I finish decorating at 3 AM with only the quiet sound of Christmas music (Charlie Brown or maybe Ray Charles) playing in the background; the joy of finding just the right gift for someone I love and imagining their face when they open it; the way it smells when John (yes, John) finishes baking Bishop’s Bread.

Despite being one of my favorite times of year, it’s also a difficult time for me because the message of the season always seems out of sync with my experience of the world. There are almost too many disconnects between the Advent season of hope and peace, and our world of violence and heartbreak to mention. I hurt inside every time I scroll my newsfeed.

This internal conflict is not new for me. Every year it seems my heart sings with joy at the same it is breaking with sorrow. That’s because the disconnect isn’t just in my own mind and heart, it’s a foundational contradiction between the Jesus way and the way of the rest of the world – a contradiction and disconnect that’s been around since Jesus came on the scene in the first place.

I suppose that’s the point. It’s the disconnect that caused the prophet Isaiah to promise, “The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine…For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His government and its peace will never end.”

As Christ followers, in all times and seasons, but especially during Advent and Christmas, we declare to the world that we’ve seen that great light. Yet even as we make that proclamation, we can’t ignore that the world remains in deep darkness – God’s dream for the world remains a far cry from the nightmare that’s the reality in so many places today.

That is why proclaiming the good news of light in the midst of darkness isn’t about sentimental visions of Bethlehem’s deep and dreamless sleep as silent stars go by. It’s about recognizing that Isaiah’s promise of a great light is twofold: not only will a son be born to us, but that son, that Prince of Peace, will be “despised and rejected – a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.” (Isaiah 53:3)

Isaiah says that we will turn our backs on that Prince of Peace and look the other way. He will be despised but we won’t care. He will carry our weaknesses and our sorrows will weigh him down. He will be pierced for our rebellion and crushed for our sins. Isaiah says that the one on whose shoulders the government will rest – that Prince of Peace – the one whose peace will never end, will be beaten so we can be whole. He will be whipped so we can be healed.

Every December my heart sings with joy and breaks with sorrow because there is never a manger without a cross. The peace that the angels sing about isn’t a peace that can ever come through violence – no matter how “redemptive” we may believe that violence to be; no matter how much we believe we need to “teach our enemies a lesson.”

The peace the angels sing about is a peace that comes through self-giving love. Our Prince of Peace rules a kingdom whose goal isn’t victory on it own terms but peace on God’s terms.

That our Prince of Peace entered the world as a helpless child and left it as a crucified outcast tells me that God’s kingdom is one in which self-giving, vulnerable, love reigns supreme; a kingdom that at it’s very core is a radical repudiation of violence. And that stands in stark contrast to the kingdoms of this world.

Yet that disconnect raises as many questions about ourselves as it does about the world. I do not doubt that the issues that face us are complex, nor am immune to an intense desire to see those who are doing so much harm brought to justice. But do we not mock the One we claim to follow when we fail to offer the merciful, forgiving, healing, redemptive, saving, love of Christ to all people – even our enemies? The witness of persecuted Christians in Nigeria and across the Middle East in contrast to our own shrill rhetoric convicts me of that painful truth.

We’re about midway through this holy-day season, this Advent season of disconnect. Maybe as we proclaim the good news that will bring great joy to all people, we ought also to recall the words of our Prince of Peace, who told us that God blesses peacemakers. Maybe in this season of peace and beyond, we need to ask how might we become more active in our peacemaking?

How might we love rather than hate our enemies?

How might we turn the other cheek, give freely, walk second miles, lower barriers, and come alongside others?

In other words, how might we live more into the likeness of the son whose birth we celebrate?

The questions remain. The disconnect remains. Yet we pray: Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

We pray that light will penetrate darkness, that violence and war will end, that the kingdom of our Prince of Peace – a kingdom of shalom – will indeed come.

Photo by Viktor Talashuk on Unsplash

Kevin Murriel ~ Why I Need Jesus: An Advent Reflection

Less than two weeks ago I was in my office preparing for mid-week worship when the phone call came. “Kevin, your cousin was killed in an armed robbery this evening.” I felt numb. A young, educated man only thirty-six years old with a family and a promising future murdered in a senseless act.

I am perplexed, saddened, and confused. More like angry, distraught, and indignant.

In the past month we have witnessed on the world stage a slew of insensate acts of violence from terrorist attacks in Paris to police brutality in Chicago. This week in San Bernardino, California fourteen people were killed in another mass shooting. But aren’t we in the first season of the Christian year? Is Advent supposed to begin this way?

As unpopular as it may seem the reality of Advent is that it doesn’t need to occur in the best of circumstances. In fact, Jesus was born in the midst of terrorism and heinous acts against human life as King Herod terrorized the small town of Bethlehem having all male babies up to two years old killed. Yet, Jesus still came. Hope still emerged.

In the midst of the news reports and the extensive litanies of horrific news, Jesus is still present. Advent it still here.

I am teaching a series in our mid-week worship experience titled, “A Glimpse into Heaven” which tackles pressing questions about our life in heaven based on what the Scriptures present to us.

There is one chapter in Scripture that has continually brought comfort to my soul during this series. That is, Revelation 5. In it, Jesus Christ takes the scroll from the hand of God that has written on it the lamentations and suffering of humanity. A forcible reminder that he is still Lord over all.

This Advent, I need Jesus to be more than a nativity baby in a manger. I need him to be God incarnate among us–the one who wipes away tears, consoles the broken hearted, and brings healing to the nations.

I definitely need Jesus, and so do you.