Advent's Troubling Question

Mary said to the angel, "How can this be...?"  (Luke 1:34)

 

“How can this be?” Mary’s question is rooted in the absurdity of what the angel has told her. She knows the way these things work. If not at a purely biological level, at least at a functional one. And so she asks: “How can this be?”

As I reflect on Mary’s question, I’m mindful of the many other situations that cause this question to arise from the depths of one's being.

·         The news and the images coming out of Aleppo move us to ask, “How can this be?”

·         Childhood cancer. “How can this be?”

·         Broken relationships. “How can this be?”

·         A young man walks into Emmanuel AME and kills nine beautiful people because they were black. “How can this be?”

·         4 years ago this week was the tragedy at Sandy Hook elementary. We asked then and we ask today: “How can this be?”

Behind this question in these and so many other situations is the gut-wrenching recognition that what is taking place is not right and that things are not as they should be. As people of faith, our belief in a God of love and justice only complicates matters. What we know of God revealed to us in Jesus adds to our confusion. How can this be?

As we light another candle on the Advent wreath, I’m coming to see more than ever that this question gives expression to the space we occupy in the season of Advent. Our prayer in this season is that God would come. Not in a mannerly way, but in a fashion expressed by the prophet Isaiah: O that you would tear open the heavens and come down… (Isaiah 64:1) We need God’s intervention. And so we raise Mary's question, we wrestle with things we can't understand, we pray, and we sing, “O come, O come Emmanuel…”

New Vistas

I just finished a great run that took me through some recently harvested corn and bean fields, past grazing cattle, and along the shores of a lake. More on that in a moment.

 At the outset of 2015, I had my running and racing schedule for the year all set.  I had registered for two half-marathons and one fall marathon. By March, I was experiencing terrible pain in my hip. By April, I was seeing an orthopedic surgeon, had x-rays and an MRI, and started physical therapy. Running was out of the picture. Doctor’s orders. This was difficult for me on several fronts. One, race registrations are non-refundable. So I was out a few hundred dollars. But even more troubling than that was the prospect that my marathoning days might be over.

This might be difficult for those who don’t run to understand, but this prospect sent me into a period of grief. Running is a big part of my identity. I‘ve got a 26.2 insignia on my car that identifies me as part of the tribe. Running is a spiritual practice for me. There have been many prayers said on my early morning runs. Training plans and group runs give structure to my week. (I call it structure, but my wife calls it obsession.) I was now faced with a future without something that has been an important and identifying part of my life.

It seems to me that the difficult work of grief is imagining a future without someone (or something) that has been a regular, important part of your life. I see this in those who lose a spouse and must make the difficult transition from husband or wife to widow or widower. In times of loss, a new future without those identifying markers is difficult to imagine. Over the years I’ve been with those who have recently lost a loved one and the only thing they could say was, “I don’t know how I ‘ll be able to go on.” 

Contrary to conventional wisdom, the work of grief is not a linear process that moves through defined sequential stages. Rather, it is chaotic, circuitous, and hard. One moment you’re fine, and then for no apparent reason, you’re in a puddle of tears. That’s why I refer to grief as work. But when done well, one can emerge with a new vision for the future.

My wife’s grandmother died last year. Lisa grew up a quarter mile down the road from her grandmother on the family farm and had forged a very special bond under those precious circumstances.  In the months that followed her grandmother’s death, Lisa spent many weekends at her grandma’s home taking care of matters at the house that is held in trust. Those were important times for her to work through her own grief as she reminisced, remembered, and pondered a future without the woman who had such an influence on her life. 

The farm is only 80 minutes away from our house, but I would stay home on those weekends to participate in my Saturday morning long group runs in Kansas City. When the doctor said “no running,” Lisa encouraged me to join her at the farm on the weekends. There was work to be done that could use my help, she said. During those first weekends, we took down wallpaper and painted a couple bathrooms. I then moved outdoors to clean gutters, mow the lawn, and clean out the garage. We planted raised bed gardens that produced awesome vegetables. I soon brought my smoker from home because something had to be done with those briskets in the deep freeze!  On Friday evenings, we spend time at the new Grindstone Valley Winery in town. My weekends become an eagerly awaited respite.

One evening in early summer, I decided to do a little exploring on my own. The Pony Express Lake is nearby, but I hadn’t ever taken the time to check it out. To my surprise, the most amazing vista opened up before me that evening as I entered the conservation area less than a mile away! How had I missed this all these years?  

I’m back to running again. I’m not logging extensive miles, but I’m lacing up the shoes and getting my endorphin rush. That’s how I ended up in a bean field today. The route is a peaceful part of my weekly routine. It takes me through the fields, around some pasture, and into the conservation area. It occurred to me today that this new discovery, this new route, probably would not have been discovered without some loss in my life. In the grand scheme of things, this loss is nothing compared to other losses we all can and do face. But it is illustrative of something important.

This Sunday, November 1, is All Saints Day. On this day when we remember our faithful departed, we read these words from John in the book of Revelation: Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away …(Rev 21:1 NRSV). John’s vision reveals something about the promises of God, especially for those who are engaged in the work of grief. The pain, the anger, and the disorientation that are part and parcel of grief are not an end in and of themselves, but open up new vistas that are made possible by the God who makes all things new.

Mindful Meditation and the Lenten Fast

There’s been a definite uptick in the number of folks who are engaging in the ancient contemplative practice of mindfulness meditation. Spiritual roots aside, a recent edition of Scientific American addressed the studies that have revealed the very real physical, emotional, and mental benefits of the practice. I’d venture a guess that this increased interest correlates with the ever-increasing pressures and demands imposed upon us by a digitally mediated existence.  Those moments that can be carved out for quiet meditation offer a welcomed, healing respite in an often frenzied life. 

I recently finished reading Running with the Mind of Meditation by Sakyong Mipham. The Sakyong is from the Tibetan Buddhist tradition and is the leader of Shambhala, a global community of mediation retreat centers. He’s also an avid runner who sees the relationship between meditation and running.  That was, in part, why I picked up his book. I’ve long embraced running as an opportunity for prayer. When I’ve got an issue I’m struggling with, a gripe that I need to express to God, or am filled with thanksgiving, the miles have afforded me the opportunity to engage in the personal spiritual practice of prayer. I was interested in learning how the Sakyong integrated these physical and spiritual practices.

Mine was also a seasonal interest. Christians have now entered the season of Lent; a forty day season of preparation for the celebration of Easter. The season of Lent encourages the spiritual practices of prayer, charity, and fasting. Of the three, fasting is probably the most foreign to those of us living in a culture and economy driven by consumption. Don’t believe me? This commercial shows how Lenten fasting is being accommodated these days: 

What I’m coming to see is that fasting is not meant to be some form of punishment or deprivation, it’s really about letting go of all that is unnecessary. Fasting is really about creating space for the Spirit to work in and through us. To me, that’s the appeal of mindfulness meditation. It’s also what makes it so darn difficult. The meditation practice introduced in the book is not complicated. It begins with the instruction to sit in a comfortable and upright position. (For many runners with tight hips and hammies, that's work in and of itself).  Once comfortable, you focus on your breathing. This is known as “placement.” By focusing on your breath, you keep other thoughts at bay. Simply learning this practice and successfully engaging in it for 5 minutes is a goal that could occupy you for several weeks!  The Sakyong admits the difficulty of the practice and that it requires training the mind. The mind constantly wants to drift off to work, the dry cleaning that needs to be picked up, or the pain from sitting in your "comfortable" position. Coming back to your breath and letting go of these thoughts takes work.

In subsequent chapters, the Sakyong offers instruction and insight into ways this practice can be incorporated into running and into becoming present in one’s daily activities. The chapters are more like running conversations. There’s some occasional repetition, but like a running partner who is on a roll, you don’t interrupt to say, “I’ve heard this before.” 

Perhaps it was my Lenten mindset, but his chapter on Pride struck a chord. He says, “With ego, we are too big to fit anywhere. With egolessness, we can go anywhere. The practice of panoramic awareness has connected us to a larger world, and we see that we are part of it.” In reading this comment, I was reminded of Jesus’ words: “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God" (Mark 10:25). Ultimately, isn’t this the goal of the Lenten fast? It’s about freeing ourselves from all that would control, burden, or consume us so that we might be more fully immersed in God’s work of healing, love, and reconciliation.

God's Work. Our Feet.

How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who announces salvation, who says to Zion, "Your God reigns." (Isaiah 52:7)

My denominational tribe, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) came up with a tag line a few years ago that I assume came out of the missional church conversation: God’s Work. Our Hands.  As a church, we recognize that we don't have a mission, but rather, we’re called to participate in God’s mission of reconciliation, repair, and restoration of the world and those in it.

Now, whether they know it or not, runners provide a lot of charitable dollars and awareness for many great causes that help a lot of people. Runners raise funds for clean water, cancer research, foster care, brain injury support…the list goes on and on. Even if they’re not intentionally running for charity, many of the races that they run in support charitable causes.

One of the great people at Holy Cross is a lovely young lady by the name of Allison. Allison was diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis at the age of five. You can read her story here. A few years ago, Allison set up a 5k race to raise money to help support the Kansas City chapter of the Myasthenia Gravis Association and those affected by this auto-immune disease.

I thought that it would be a lot of fun to not only get the experienced runners in our congregation to participate in this race, but to welcome and introduce a whole new group of people to running and its many benefits.  So, this year we’re going to use the season of Lent to kick-off a 12-week training program that will provide instruction, support, encouragement, motivation and community. We’re going to meet every Sunday at 11:30 for a brief talk about shoes, technology, snot rockets, proper stretching, etc. We’ll also work into the program some thoughts about running and the spiritual life. In the process, we’re going to use our feet to participate in God’s mission of healing and hope.

We’re having an informational meeting this Sunday, Feb. 15 at 11:30 at Holy Cross Lutheran Church. In the weeks to come, I plan to use this blog to share insights, tips from our coaches, and updates on how things are going.

Training Plans and the Lectionary

When people discover that I enjoy running marathons, they will often tell me, “There’s no way I could ever run a marathon!” To be honest, there’s a part of me that thinks that same thing at the start of every training season. The long cold winter months (along with a few too many tall cold brews) make the prospect of 26.2 rather daunting. This past Saturday, my “long” run was 11 miles, and it seemed to last an eternity.

One doesn’t just decide to pin on a bib number and run a marathon like you would a Thanksgiving Day turkey trot. There is a significant amount of preparation that goes into making sure your body and your mind are properly prepared for the endeavor. This preparation includes incrementally increasing daily mileage that is laid out in a training plan. These plans also include things like speed work, tempo runs, cross-training, fartleks, etc. There are a variety of training plans available that can meet the needs of beginners as well as elite runners. I’ve used a higher mileage plan based on the concept of cumulative fatigue. I’ve used plans that emphasize lower mileage but higher quality speed work. I’ve even used an “old guy” plan that had me run for specific periods of time rather than a particular distance. 

I got to thinking about these training plans as the church prepares for the season of Advent and a new liturgical church year. This year at Holy Cross, we’re going to begin using the Revised Common Lectionary once again. Several years ago, I moved away from the RCL and began creating thematic sermon series for our worship life. In his book Shrink: FaithfulMinistry in A Church Growth Culture, Kansas City pastor Tim Suttle would refer to this decision as one rooted in church growth techniques and strategies that seek relevance that creates church fans rather than faithful disciples. The whole premise behind the development of a sermon series is to produce a marketable product that appeals to the felt needs and wants of the worshipper. It also allows the preacher to shape the congregation’s worship life in ways that support the pastor’s ministry priorities. This is an important critique that preachers ought to keep before them at all times. It’s also an important critique that preachers ought to keep in mind when the goal is drawing people into God’s mission to heal the world rather than the parochial needs of the local congregation. 

Personally, I began to tire of searching for and creating the next appealing sermon series theme that would capture people’s attention. A return to the RCL offers freedom from these demands and immerses me in the liturgical rhythms of the wider Church. The appointed texts, along with the daily lectionary, function like one of those marathon training plans. The structure of the lectionary not only lays out the appointed readings, but some of those readings are going to feel like a difficult speed session. Each week, the appointed texts draw us into the seasonal rhythms in which God speaks to us in both law and promise. The texts interpret us and the world in which we live and shape us for lives of faithful discipleship. In an interview from 1966, Karl Barth said: “The Pastor and the Faithful should not deceive themselves into thinking that they are a religious society, which has to do with certain themes; they live in the world. We still need - according to my old formulation - the Bible and the Newspaper."

As I write this post, the community of Ferguson, Missouri is in crisis. Race, culture, economics, criminal justice, and violence have a community reeling and a nation seeking answers; even more than answers, redemption. This is the world that the biblical text critiques and speaks a word of gospel. This is the world that God loves. This is the world to which the church is sent to make the Kingdom of God a reality. As preachers, leaders, and communities of faith, we have the holy calling “to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, ¹³ until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ” (Ephesians 4:12-13). That calls for a really good training plan.