Author Archives: hummingbird

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ How We Die

I was thirty-two years old when a woman took my advice on how to die.

Sitting in her low living room banked with windows that overlooked butterfly-laden bushes, I watched her shallow breaths. She had lost strength and energy: her frame seemed diminished, as if her soul were clinging to her body by mere tendrils.

While disease sapped her vitality, her mind was still quietly at work.

She did not want to disappoint the children.

But the last-chance sign was a few miles behind her. She had tried the best last-ditch effort that modern medicine could offer. It would work for some people. It would not work for her.

She did not want to disappoint the children.

My eyes took in her papery skin, her closed eyes, her quiet words – breaths barely bounded by consonants. Each inhale seemed as negligible as the air movement around the butterflies in the yard. They might outlive her.

I breathed deeply.

“If you want to keep fighting, we are all with you. You know how loved you are. But if you are tired, no one can blame you for that. You have fought the good fight, you have finished the race, you have kept the faith. Give yourself permission to let go. Sit down and tell your kids that they need to give you permission to go, that they need to let you go. And if you feel it’s time to call Hospice, that’s alright. They’re a wonderful organization, they will take care of you, and they will care for your family.”

Dishes and pans clinked in the kitchen, familiar sounds of home coming from a much older woman who was watching her daughter slowly fade. I glanced over the form in front of me. I couldn’t tell whether she was still awake – just exhausted – or whether she had drifted off to sleep. Not long after, I took my leave. The encounter weighed on me over the weekend.

And then I received a shock: after my visit, the rapidly fading grandma who seemed almost transparent with approaching death had heeded my counsel. She had called her grown, grieving children around her. And then she had called Hospice. Within two weeks, she died.

I still miss her. For all her seeming diminishment, her absence is palpable.

But I also mourn the absence of ministries related to holy dying. I think, in our culture, their absence is palpable (as so many roadside memorials testify).

How you die matters: not the mode of dying – be it aneurysm or asteroid, tachycardia or exploding toilet. Even the ethics of death – assisted death by physican or other forms of suicide – trump the conversation on expiration.

No, how you die matters. Do you die at peace with your God, at peace with others, at peace with yourself? Do you die with a weathered faith that murmurs, ‘til the end, “I know that my Redeemer lives…”? Do you die with the taste of communion bread in your mouth? Do you die hearing the voices of your sisters and brothers in the faith read Psalms, read prayers, sing words of comfort, hope and truth? Do you die, confident of the goodness of Life? Do you die, knowing that soon, your tomb will be full, but that The Tomb That Matters Is Empty? Do you die with curiosity about what it feels like to caper with Triune Eternity?

Most humans will never choose the mode of death – big rig, pneumonia, hurricane, malaria. A few humans will choose heroic action as their mode of death. But all of us, fragile like seasonal butterflies on the breeze, can choose how we die. Even those of us with Alzheimer’s or other forms of dementia can choose how to slip into the deepening twilight; and who knows what subterranean choices are made in the depths of human consciousness, even when the surface is blank and staring.

Yes, how you die matters. Funerals are a surface ministry to grieving family and community members. Important, yes; but what if we move from a funeral ministry to a ministry of holy deathbeds?

A holy deathbed is a community event; a sacramental event; an evangelistic event. It is pure in its unity of purpose: to proclaim the Risen Christ.

Each breath that slows still further etches “Christ has died…” in the firmament of time and space. Each fluttering pulse that weakens yet more beats “Christ is risen…” to the rhythm of the spheres. Each flickering eyelid that closes to this world counsels “Christ will come again…” to the rising and setting sun.

How do you choose to die?

 

Kimberly Reisman ~ Godbearers: Let It Be

Have you ever seen a sonogram of an unborn child? The technology today is absolutely amazing! It transforms a pregnant abdomen from an unknown experience into the carrier of God’s creation.

We can’t always see what God is creating in our lives or through our lives. We’re like pre-sonogram people. We know something’s happening because life is always unfolding. We just can’t see deeply enough to know exactly what’s going on.

That is why Mary’s story is so amazing. I’m talking about Mary, the Mother of Jesus – the one who’s labor culminated in the birth we celebrated on Wednesday. You can find her story in Luke 1.26-38.

Do you remember the Beatles’ song Let it Be? Most of us – of a certain age – remember at least the first part.

When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

But do you remember the next verse?

When the brokenhearted people, living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be.

Who would have thought – especially in 1970 – that God would use Paul McCartney to further God’s kingdom message? I’m pretty confident the church didn’t! But there it is: though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see. There will be an answer – let it be…

The good news of the kingdom of God is that when God became human in Jesus of Nazareth, all the barriers that separate, all the walls that keep us estranged from God and one another, have been torn down. The answer we and all the world need to see is that we are no longer parted. In Jesus Christ we are reconciled – all of creation is reconciled with God!

That is why Mary’s story is so important. Mary was a theotokos – that’s the Greek word for Godbearer. [1] Now you are probably saying, of course she was a Godbearer, she had the baby Jesus and laid him in the manger – that’s what we just celebrated. But here is a deeper truth: Mary’s story isn’t important simply because she gave birth to the baby Jesus (even though that is a very big deal). Mary’s story is important because she shows us how we are to be Godbearers as well.

Let me reassure you, I’m not talking about having babies. I’m talking about being a theotokos – a Godbearer, each of us. In a world filled with brokenness and estrangement, poverty, violence and death, we need Godbearers.

Here is a reality check as we move forward from the Christmas event: Mary may have been the first Godbearer. She may have been the ultimate Godbearer. But if you are in relationship with Jesus Christ, then you are a Godbearer too. Everyone who follows in the Jesus way is called to be a Godbearer. That is a huge part of what it means to follow Jesus – bearing God to others.

We can learn a lot from Mary, but three things stand out about her as a theotokos – a Godbearer: she bore God within herself, she bore God to others through her faithful witness in word and deed, and she bore the suffering of others. [2] Those three things provide the paradigm for our Godbearing: we bear God within, we bear faithful witness to God through our words and actions, and we bear the suffering of others.

One of our claims as Christians is that Mary is the only human being to have literally borne God within. Robert Jenson says that Mary makes a “space for God.” “Her womb is the container of the uncontainable.”[3] We tend to take that openness for granted, but think about it. Mary was a teenager, pregnant and unmarried – not an easy combination in our day and age, but even more so in Mary’s day – actually a deadly combination for her given the law of Torah.

That makes Mary’s response to Gabriel worthy of a second look: Here I am. I’m a servant of Lord. Let it be with me according to your word. This isn’t passive resignation. This isn’t the “whatever” of a typical teenager. This is the quiet strength of someone who freely assents to God’s choice to use her to inaugurate God’s kingdom.

The words she uses are important. She calls herself God’s doulē. Most translations use the word “servant,” but the Greek word literally means “slave.” That word may make us uncomfortable, but it moves us closer to what is happening. Mary isn’t choosing to serve. That is frequently the way we think of Christian service; I choose when to volunteer my time, how much money I will give and where that money will go. We like to be in control of how we serve.

But Mary has been chosen to serve. This way of serving wasn’t her idea. So what Mary does is freely assent to God’s plan and God’s authority. Let it be with me according to your word. Tim Perry is helpful in understanding what is happening, “If Mary is God’s slave then she is no one else’s – not even her husband’s. God calls, Mary assents, the redeemer is conceived and Joseph is not even a witness to the events.”[4]

The ironic thing about being a servant of God is that in choosing Mary, God opens space for Mary to act, speak and decide. She isn’t simply someone’s property (as wives and fiancés were in those days). Mary has been empowered. She has free will and agency and she uses that power to freely assent to the way of the Godbearer – let it be…

This is important for us as we seek to bear God within. It is about making space within ourselves for God. God’s grace comes to us as a gift freely given. God opens up space for us to act, speak and decide. God empowers us with free will and agency. We respond to that grace by making space within ourselves – let it be…

When we freely respond, we become God’s servants – God’s doulēs; but rather than being oppressive, that service is liberating and self-fulfilling. If we’re God’s doulēs, then we can’t be anyone else’s – no matter what messages society may send us. The fact that God chooses Mary in the first place indicates that God doesn’t play by the rules of society. Service to God clearly allows for all kinds of initiative in the face of social convention – that’s why Mary could just take off and go to Elizabeth’s house by herself, with no chaperone, with no one’s permission. That was pretty radical behavior – but hey! When you’re God’s doulē you’re nobody else’s.

Mary’s story tells us that anyone can become a participant in the life-centered activity of God in the world – as long as you are open to possibility, as long as you choose to respond, as long as you are willing to be changed in the process.

So we bear God within. We respond to God’s grace by making space for God within ourselves, freely assenting to God’s lordship in our lives – let it be…

But Mary as theotokos, also shows us a second aspect of Godbearing: faithful witness. Shortly after Gabriel leaves, Mary goes to visit Elizabeth. That was a radical act of witness in and of itself. While she is there she sings what we know as the Magnificat or Mary’s Song of Praise. (Luke 1:46-56) This is Mary’s prophetic witness to the message and ministry of Jesus. Jesus the Christ brings mercy. Jesus the Christ brings down the powerful and lifts up the lowly. Jesus the Christ fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty.

Did you know that in the 1980’s the government of Guatemala banned any public reciting of Mary’s Magnificat? They deemed it too politically subversive. And all this time we’ve relegated Mary to a stable in December.

It is no wonder so many people find comfort in Mary. She is a symbol of strength and hope for poor and oppressed people everywhere. Her witness tells us that faithfulness to God doesn’t mean our lives will be perfect, or painless, or predictable; but her witness show just how powerful our words and lives can be when we receive and share the life of God. Let it be…

The third aspect of Godbearing we see in Mary is the willingness to bear the suffering of others. In so many beautiful renderings of the Pieta, Mary bears the broken body of her crucified son on her lap – the Messiah Jesus, the Incarnate One, fully human – one of us. Mary stayed with Jesus to the bitter end. She didn’t run away when he was experiencing an excruciating death on the cross. She remained steadfast when he was humiliated and abandoned by almost all of his followers.

Godbearers cradle the brokenness of others in their arms and share in their suffering at the hands of a death-dealing world. As Christ followers, we cradle the brokenness of others and share in their suffering at the hands of a death-dealing world. Let it be…

Bearing God within, bearing witness through our words and actions, bearing the suffering of others, this shouldn’t be news to us. This kind of Godbearing is the way it has been for over 2000 years. This kind of Godbearing is what it means to follow in the Jesus way.

But bearing God within doesn’t just happen. It takes commitment – commitment to things like bible study or small groups, things like Emmaus Walks or other opportunities to have the renewed image of God blossom within you. If you want your congregation to grow, start by looking within yourself. Are you in a small group? Or a bible study? Following Jesus Christ isn’t just about showing up every week or so on Sunday. It’s about attending to the growth of our spirits; it’s about making space for God within ourselves through prayer, and study, and spiritual conversation.

Bearing faithful witness takes effort too. It’s easy to answer the question “Do you want your church to grow?” Of course we do! Everybody wants their church to grow. The harder question is are we willing to do the things that are necessary for our church to grow? That’s an entirely different thing. One of those things is bearing faithful witness. We do that in our daily lives, the way we treat others, the stands we take on sensitive and important issues, how willing we are to speak out on behalf of those who have no voice or to stand with those who lack support. We bear faithful witness when we share our personal stories of faith, what Jesus Christ means to us and how we’ve experienced the Holy Spirit working in our lives.

We bear faithful witness when we worship together – especially when that worship is dynamic and infused with the power of the Holy Spirit. Especially when that worship is focused not on us and on our own likes or our own needs or our own preferences; but when our worship is focused on God and focused on enabling others – especially those others who aren’t here yet – to experience the presence of the living God for themselves.

And bearing the suffering of others. Big surprise! The Christian life takes effort. Following Jesus is work. It’s work because it requires that we stand in solidarity with those who don’t have enough, to pray and intercede and visit the sick and care for the dying and bind up the broken – to cradle in our own arms all those who suffer at the hands of a death-dealing world.

Mary is our prototype. Let it be according to your words. Each of us has to bear God in our own life. How will you do it? How will you bear God within? What change will you need to make to be God’s doulē and no one else’s? How will you bear faithful witness? Whose suffering will you bear?

Each of us is to be a theotokos – a Godbearer. I pray that it would be so…AMEN.

[1] I am grateful to Orthodox theologian, Kallistos Ware for his assertion that the term Theotokos is more accurately translated “Godbearer” than “Mother of God.”

[2] I am grateful to Elaine Robinson the three-fold description of Godbearing.

[3] Robert Jenson, “A Space for God,” Mary, Mother of God, ed. Carl E. Braaten & Robert W. Jenson (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004) 51.

[4] Tim Perry, Mary for Evangelicals: Toward an Understanding of the Mother of Our Lord (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2006) 73.

Kimberly Reisman ~ In the Flesh

An intriguing commonality between those who follow the Jesus way and non believers is a general distaste for evangelism. Certainly this dislike doesn’t apply to everyone, believer or not; nor does it stem from an accurate understanding of what evangelism is all about. But the dislike is there.

From the world’s perspective it’s an aversion to anything smacking of proselytizing, any attempt to “convert,” alter, or change another person in the area of faith. From the Christ follower’s perspective it’s a deep embarrassment about sharing something as profoundly personal as the experience of being in relationship with God through Jesus; it’s a strong fear of being seen as manipulative, coercive or simply overbearing. The negative image of the televangelist looms large in all our consciences.  Mary Chapin Carpenter sings about this sense of leeriness in her song I Take My Chances (CD:  Come On Come On):

I sat alone in the dark one night,
tuning in by remote.
I found a preacher who spoke of the light
but there was brimstone in his throat.
He’d show me the way according to him
in return for my personal check.
I clicked my channel back to CNN
and I lit another cigarette.
I take my chances…yes…forgiveness doesn’t come with a debt.

Yet those who follow the Jesus way actually have great news to share: the truth (to mention only one) that forgiveness really doesn’t come with a debt! And that news, when shared as it should be, is not the least bit coercive or manipulative. But our dislike for faith sharing is so great, our fear of being lumped in the same category as the preacher who speaks of the light but has brimstone in his throat is so paralyzing, that Christ followers have abdicated the witness of our faith to others, seeing it as something that happens at special times, in special places, led by special people with special gifts.

How sad that sharing the good news, news the world so desperately needs to hear, has been limited to such special (and seemingly rare) environments, when instead it could be a natural part of the relationships of trust that make up our daily lives. How sad that we’ve missed the foundational concept of faith sharing – that it is incarnational.

As Christ followers, our relationship is with an incarnational God – a God who came to us in the flesh, willingly choosing to become human in Jesus. That’s not just part of the message we proclaim, it’s the model for the way we live in the world and the way we share our faith. When we come to see following the Jesus way and sharing our faith in that way – as an incarnational undertaking – we realize the importance of entering the world of those we seek to reach – being with them in the flesh, not just on the surface. As the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, entering our world fully and completely, we seek to be vehicles through which Jesus enters the worlds of those around us – our co-workers and friends, our neighbors, strangers we meet as we go about our day.

Incarnational thinking broadens our understanding of what it means to share our faith, moving it beyond special events and attractions toward a more holistic concept, one that emphasizes entering the worlds of others fully and completely, through word, deed and sign.

Our entire existence as Christ followers – the connections we make between our faith and our daily lives, the way we live in the world – should be laid on the holistic framework of word, deed and sign. A deep and lively faith will always hold these three elements in balance.

As we live each day, we proclaim the good news – both formally and informally – in our conversation, in our expression. This is the framework of word. The world hears our words, the words of every Christ follower, not just those of our preachers and teachers. All those beside whom we live and work and play hear and listen. When we struggle, they hear our struggle. When we celebrate, they hear our celebration. When we enter their struggle – in the flesh, not just on the surface – they hear those words as well. When we share their celebration – in the flesh, not just on the surface – their joy is enhanced by the sound of ours. For every divisive word spoken by a Mark Driscoll, or other polarizing figure, the world waits to hear a word from us – what will our word be? A word of confirmation or a word of the gospel?

As we live each day we proclaim the good news and we act – practicing what we preach and preaching what we practice. In this way word and deed come together. They are as intimately entwined as breathing in and breathing out. As Eddie Fox has always said, deciding which is the most important depends on which one you did last. As the world hears our words, the world watches our actions. The world watches as we live out our faith – in the flesh, not in theory – even in the most mundane elements of our lives. The world watches the way we treat or mistreat others, the way we reach out or ignore those who suffer, stand with or against those who are oppressed, work for or against reconciliation, trust and love. What will our next step be? Will our actions reflect our words? Will our words ring true when illustrated in the flesh, by our behavior?

As we live each day we proclaim the good news, we act in ways that provide evidence for that good news, and we engage in activities of significance that point to Jesus Christ. This is the framework of sign. We participate in and provide opportunities for those around us to experience signs of our living God, those visible tokens of invisible realities that are spiritually significant – Eucharist, prayer, art, music, miracles, healings – any and all pointing to Jesus Christ and his redemptive power. 

Word, deed and sign. In the flesh, not just in theory or on the surface. That’s the only way to follow in the Jesus way with integrity and faithfulness. That’s the only way to avoid the world’s image of Christians as those who speak of the light but have brimstone in their throat. So what is your next step? What will you do next? Word? Deed? Breathe in? Breathe out? I suppose it depends on whatever you did last.

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ A Reasonable Doubt

On a recent hot summer day, I pulled down the flap of my mailbox and discovered an official-looking summons. For the first time in my life, I had Jury Duty – those dreaded words that bring pained expressions to millions of Americans every year.

Being a woman of a thousand and one opinions, however, I immediately waved the paper under my husband’s nose. (My armchair interest in crime – most notably evident in the time I spend in armchairs reading old Agatha Christie stories – came bubbling indecently to the surface.) The case, however, ended up being a relatively boring one (because somehow I did get on the jury). Before the proceedings began, the defense lawyer and the prosecutor each gave their pitches on the nature of reasonable doubt.

Employing two heavily loaded words – reason, and doubt – the two men attempted to lay their early groundwork. One needed to convince us beyond a reasonable doubt. One needed only to create a reasonable doubt. And in the end, assuming innocence as we were sworn to do, the six of us came to the consensus that, like it or not, reasonable doubt was present.

And what, I wondered as I drove home, does reasonable doubt look like to a person of faith?

Not reasonable doubt as it exists in the criminal justice system, but reasonable doubt as it exists in its dance with faith.

Many believers position doubt as one pole and faith as the other, opposites that most people slide back and forth between on a spectrum. But as a citizen, I had just sat with a “juror” tag on my shirt well aware that we were deliberating, not between doubt and faith, but between doubt and certainty – a reasonable doubt, a reasonable certainty – which would the evidence – and the portrayal of the evidence – create?

It’s fascinating to note that if you read the words of the author of Hebrews from the NRSV, chapter 11, verse one renders, “now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” – faith is assurance and conviction of the longed-for invisible. But if you flip the pages of a worn King James Bible (or flick the screen of your iPad), you will read, “now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” – faith is substance and evidence.

And so we come to the mystery of our faith – Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again…

I love reasoning about my faith. Intellectual curiosity and faith, far from being antagonistic towards each other, fuel each other.

But part of the mystery of our faith is that faith is evidence; not faith in evidence, or certainty about evidence, but faith, the evidence of things not seen – which conjures Flannery O’Connor’s words in the novel Wise Blood, “faith is what someone knows to be true, whether they believe it or not.”

Because, as anyone who has slogged through the dark night of the soul eventually learns, faith is never blind; faith, instead, knows all too well. And until your faith has a head that is bloodied but unbowed, you will look for evidence that will strengthen your faith. But of course the logic of faith is that your gritted teeth, your plummeting down into the void until you fall through the other side – these are the evidence.

This makes sense only in the mystery of the dead Christ, the risen Christ, and the coming Christ – which means that it makes all the sense in the world…

Kimberly Reisman ~ Aha Moments and the Kingdom of God

I’m excited about what’s unfolding at A Wesleyan Accent. We’ve got a group of younger voices in the Methodist/Wesleyan world who have a great deal to offer those of us seeking to live out the Christian life “with a Wesleyan accent” in the Kingdom of God. One of those is Phil Tallon. Recently, Phil wrote a piece on teaching youth about justification that really struck a chord in me. I believe he’s spot on to connect it with allegiance to a new kingdom.

Justification (or more formally – justification by grace through faith) is that aha moment when you see things in a new light. Like that moment when instead of seeing the wine glass, you suddenly see the two silhouettes. Or when you’ve struggled to get a concept in math for what seems like forever, but then things click and you suddenly just get it.

In Christian tradition, especially when spoken with a Wesleyan accent, we associate that moment with a realization of sin and the need for pardon and forgiveness – our need and Christ’s self-giving on the cross intersect and we suddenly just get it. That’s an amazing moment, but it’s usually a moment that’s taken a while to arrive.

The challenge Phil points out in dealing with youth, I think is the same challenge we face in the context of our wider culture – we don’t feel sufficiently guilty about our sin to feel the weight and impact of pardon. It’s not that we aren’t guilty, or that we might not eventually come to the realization of our need – as I said, that aha moment usually takes a bit of time to arrive. But to start there no longer makes sense in our self-esteem worshiping, everyone-gets-a-trophy culture.

As my mentor Billy Abraham has said, some things may need to be said before other things can be said.

One of the things that may need to be said before other things can be said involves trust. At its core, in the Kingdom of God, faith is about trust. So the question for everyone is who do you trust? Where does your ultimate trust lie? Is it in God or something/someone else? Is it in God’s authority over your life or something/someone else’s authority over your life?

A few weeks ago I was in Budapest, Hungary for a United Methodist meeting. While there I was able spend time with folks from the Methodist Church of Hungary as well as other Hungarians in the Methodist/Wesleyan family. They know all too well the importance of choosing who and what will hold your ultimate trust and allegiance.

Hungary has an amazing history – over 1,000 years – with much of it spent under the rule of outsiders. Most recently, Hungary suffered under the totalitarian authority first of the Nazis and then the Soviets. Only since 1989 have they been free to govern themselves. During those years of oppression, Hungarians faced a daily choice: where and with whom would they place their ultimate trust and allegiance? Would they trust the Nazis? Would they trust the Communists? Or would they trust in the authority of God? Would their ultimate allegiance be to the Kingdom of God, even as it lay hidden from their sight?

In the U.S. it’s easy to assume that our choice isn’t as significant because our government isn’t oppressive in the ways that the Nazis or Communists were. But that assumption is deeply flawed. Placing our ultimate trust and allegiance in any government or political system is a dangerous mistake. Even a quick review of U.S. history (which, among other things, includes slavery, Jim Crow, and the forced sterilization of people with disabilities) makes that fact painfully obvious.

So we’re back to the question of trust. Where does your ultimate trust lie? To what authority will you be most fundamentally accountable?

Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all strategies of the devil. For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places. (Ephesians 6.10-12, NLT)