Coyote Dreaming

Midsummer night's Coyote,
Were you dreaming of me?

Five years ago you howled,
And I dreamed,
And you laughed.
Were you my friend?
I did not know.

Now I think,
Dearest Coyote,
That I was dreaming
Of you.
My midsummer
Night's dream was
All about me.
And you are me.

Don't growl at me
Like that.

If the earth dreams
The Dreamquest,
Then the earth dreams
You too.
We are both actors
In the dream
Of the earth.

Nevertheless,
Coyote,
I won't shake your
Hand.

What kind of dream
Would that be?

Coyote Two Face

Sometimes,
Dearest Coyote,
I don't know what to
Make of you.

Unexpectedly you bring
Delightful gifts.
Why?

And then you howl at
And mock all
Thoughts I have of
Meaning, and order,
And God.
Why do you do that?

If I could grab your
Tail I'd throw you in
The lake.

Would I sink,
Or swim?

Morning Coyotes

Running at dawn
I met two coyotes
On the path.

I said good morning
To both.
They just looked at me
Across their long snouts.

I kept running.
One coyote kept his
Eye on me.

Got him.

Not In Kansas Anymore

Good morning. Before I became an Episcopalian, one of the most interesting religious experiences I ever had was at a Greek Orthodox Pascha, or Easter, service. Worshipping Orthodox style was something I had never experienced before. You stand almost the whole time, three hours, and you chant all through the service. Incense fills the church, beautiful icons cover every wall, and you truly feel like you are in heaven. The Orthodox really know how to do Easter.

I was an evangelical at the time, and this was definitely not your three hymns and a sermon service. Part of me wanted to draw back from this kind of all-encompassing worship, but part of me wanted to let go, body and soul, and plunge into the heavenly rhythm. At one point in the liturgy, as I thought about letting myself go, for the first time in my life I was right on the verge of a full-blown mystical experience. I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I wasn’t a Baptist anymore.

I’ve had three thoughts as I look back on that experience. First, I wish I had let myself go. I was a bit afraid, and I wish I had trusted that if i let go God would catch me. Second, what really moved my soul was the Orthodox emphasis on the Trinity. In every possible way, through chant, liturgy, and icons and incense, the triune fullness of God was lifted up and exalted. I had never experienced the Trinity like this before.

Third, once I became an Episcopalian, I realized that everything I had experienced in the Orthodox church that morning I experience every single Sunday morning right here. In a different way, but in just as profound a way, we Episcopalians lift up and worship the Trinity in a deeply mystical way. Our tradition, our faith, and our liturgy are thoroughly, and wonderfully, Trinitarian.

Today is Trinity Sunday, and our readings this morning give us a glimpse into the great mystery of the Trinity. The early church was guided by three principles as they worked to understand and define the Trinity, and I want to use those same principles as we examine both the scriptures and the nature of our triune God. As we journey together this morning, we will discover, as I did, that when Christians gather together in the name of the Trinity, we are not in Kansas anymore.

Let me set the stage. Last week was Pentecost, and all kinds of people were having “I’m not in Kansas anymore” experiences and coming to know Jesus. This continued week after week, year after year, as the early church continued to grow. Over time, as Christians began to think about their faith, a need arose to define what these experiences were all about. Experiences without explanations can get out of control.

But there is a danger in explanations. Sometimes they detract from, and get in the way of, experiences. This was the tension the early church faced. In other words, how could the church become more definitional, while still remaining heavily experiential? We face the same issue today. As an evangelical, I could define and explain the Trinity as well as anyone, but I can honestly say I never experienced the Trinity in worship. Sometimes definitions seemingly bar the way to experience.


So, to insure that people could keep getting out of Kansas, and at the same time be able to talk about what was happening, the early church came up with three principles to walk this fine line between experience and definition.

The first principle that guided the early church in experiencing and defining the Trinity was this: “God is not a doctrine. God is a person. Sometimes, when we think and talk about the Trinity, it is easy to get lost in our thoughts. The early church was deeply concerned about this, so they insisted that no matter what our theological musings, we must never forget that God is not a doctrine. God is a person.

Our reading from Exodus perfectly illustrates this principle. Moses was in the desert, tending sheep, when he saw a bush that was burning, but never consumed. He knew something was up, and then God spoke to Moses from the bush, saying, “dude, take your shoes off, you’re standing on holy ground.” Moses was being addressed, not by a doctrine, but by the holy God of the universe.

God then says, “I am the God of your fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and I want you to return to Egypt and set my people free.” Moses looked around and said, “You talking to me?” God said, “yeah, I’m talking to you.” Uh oh. Moses was in big trouble. This holy God wanted Moses to step out in faith, and do something he could never do on his own without God’s help. That’s what happens when we encounter God. So Moses says, “okay, fine, but when I tell my people you sent me, what do I say? What is your name?”

And in one of the most famous lines in scripture, God answers, “tell them I am the philosophical first principle of all things. Tell them I am the existential ground of all being. Tell them I am the prime mover of all things that move. Tell them I am the first cause of all other causes and effects. Tell them I am the center of the web from which all things are connected.” Right Judy? Isn’t that what God said?

No. God doesn’t give Moses an explanation. God gives Moses an experience. He says to Moses, “tell them my name is I AM.” Wow. I imagine when God spoke His name the whole universe shook with God’s majesty and holiness. Moses must have been absolutely awestruck. God didn’t give Moses an explanation. God gave Moses Himself.

It is exactly the same with us. God doesn’t give us doctrines. He gives us Himself. When God gives us Himself, we are standing on holy ground. This is why the early church insisted that no matter what we are thinking about the Trinity, we must begin and end in personally encountering God’s holiness. We can talk all we want about explanations. But we must live experiencing God.

We are standing on holy ground right now. The minute we step in these doors God is giving Himself to us. In the music, the readings, the sermon, the creed, the peace, and especially in the Eucharist, God is with us. When we bow, when we cross ourselves, and when the bells ring, God is especially close to us. And we are never closer to God than when we receive His body and blood. Our whole church is full of burning bushes. We should all be on the verge of a mystical experience every time we gather.

Not only that, we should see God’s holiness in burning bushes everywhere we look. Nature is a burning bush proclaiming God’s holiness. The lost, the suffering, and the least of our brothers and sisters are all burning bushes full of God’s presence. LIke Moses, we cannot escape God’s holiness.

Even if we have the perfect understanding of the Trinity, if we are not living in the experiential knowledge of God’s holiness, then it just doesn’t matter. We’re stuck in Kansas. God is not a doctrine. God is a person. (By the way....)

The second principle that guided the early church as they sought to experience and understand the Trinity was this: liturgy precedes theology. (Repeat). This principle flows from the first principle, but at first glance it doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense. Surely, our liturgy flows from our theology, right? Well, maybe not.

We tend to think the early church worked out the doctrine of the Trinity like this: Christians at that time looked at the old and new Testaments, and said, “well, we see a lot of references to the Holy Spirit. Jesus taught about the Holy Spirit, and several times Paul seems to imply that the Spirit is God. We know what happened at Pentecost, we know the Spirit was present at Christ’s baptism, and if we put everything we know together, then the most reasonable theological conclusion is that the Holy Spirit is God. Therefore, our liturgy and our worship, our creed and our hymns, our life and our prayers, should all reflect the fact that we believe that the Holy Spirit is God. Sounds good.
In fact, however, just the opposite happened. Here’s how it worked. The early church was saturated with the presence of God. The Holy Spirit was pulsating and throbbing through their worship and liturgy. People were being healed of diseases. Miraculous gifts were being manifested. Thousands and thousands of people were coming to know God. Lives of sin were being transformed into lives of holiness. The Holy Spirit was so intensely present to the early church that they knew, as Paul tells us in Romans, that God was not just Father, but also Abba, daddy. The Spirit testified powerfully that Christians were children of God, and not only children, but co-heirs with Christ of God’s eternal Kingdom.

The church’s incredible worshipful and liturgical experience of the Spirit gave birth to its theology. Liturgy and worship precede theology. The Spirit who was so powerfully moving through the church could only be God. So, a theology was worked out that enshrined the church’s experience of the Holy Spirit in doctrine. We call that doctrinal understanding the Nicene Creed.

The problem for us today is that we start with the theology, but sometimes we never get to the experience. We recite the Creed, but sometimes we never encounter the Spirit. We never get out of Kansas. Let me give you an example of how this works.

We go into a great restaurant, the waiter hands us a menu, and as we look over the menu our mouths start to water. Oh man! Every single selection looks fabulous. Our stomachs are getting fired up, and we can hardly wait to get started. So what do we do? Well, of course, we start eating the menu. We rip that baby to shreds, and as the cardboard and plastic slide down our throats, we think to ourselves that this is by far the best menu I have ever tasted.

The Creed is a menu of our deepest beliefs. It is an incredible menu, put together by some of the best minds that Christianity has ever produced. But it’s just a menu. It’s not the meal. If we don’t get past the menu to the meal, then we haven’t had dinner. If we don’t get past the Creed to experience the Living God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, then we don’t know the Trinity.

That’s why the early church insisted that liturgy and worship precede theology. The ultimate goal is not to understand the Trinity. The ultimate goal is to experience the Trinity. When someone asks us to explain the Trinity, the best thing we can tell them is, come and worship with me. Taste and see the goodness of the triune God. But if we do this, we better be sure our lives, and our worship, are saturated with the presence of God.

The final principle the early church used in walking the fine line between experiences and definitions concerning the Trinity is this: “What is not assumed cannot be redeemed.” I wish I could tell you that the early church’s working out the doctrine of the Trinity was a straight line of agreement, of Christians slowly coming to a consensus about what the best definition of the Trinity was, and of the profound experience of Trinity shaping in a seamless and holy way the production of the Nicene Creed. But I can’t. There were many rough and dark places along the way.

As the Creed was being written, Christian history gets especially tough. Everyone did not define the Trinity the same way. It came down to one letter, the letter “i”. Those who accepted the Creed as we now have it believed that Jesus was, in Latin, hom “o” ousian, or of the same nature as the Father. Those who rejected the Creed as we now have it believed that Jesus was hom “oi” ousian, (one letter “i” added), that Jesus was of a similar, but not the same nature, as the Father. And then the wars began. Making a long story short, when the Nicene definition of the Trinity eventually triumphed, those who adhered to the Nicene Creed instantly declared everyone else heretics, they threw them out of the church, and they asked the emperor to declare these heretics traitors to the Empire.

It isn’t easy to know what to make of all this. Each of us must come to our own conclusions about what the best way is to deal with differences of opinion in the church over critical theological issues. For now, let me give just a bit of insight into the mind of those Nicene Christians who believed that adding a single “i” to the Creed required such drastic actions. It boils down to the principle that what is not assumed cannot be redeemed.

The early church was deeply aware of humanity’s sinfulness and brokenness. They were also profoundly aware of God’s majesty and holiness. The question that Nicodemus was groping for in John’s gospel today was the same question the early Christians were trying to answer: how are we saved from our sinfulness and brokenness? How does God’s holiness come to our humanity and heal us?

Jesus gives the answer in John chapter three: we must be born again. Unless a person is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the Kingdom of God. Unless God’s holiness transforms us in a second birth, through the Holy Spirit, then we are lost in our sinfulness and brokenness.

We are born again through the death and resurrection of Jesus, who is the bridge between God’s holiness and our sinfulness. In Jesus divinity takes on humanity, and so we are healed. Divinity assumes humanity, and so we are redeemed. This was the faith of the early church.

Now, what if Jesus is not God? How could humanity be redeemed if Jesus, the bridge between God and humanity, is not divine? How could humanity be assumed into divinity if Jesus is not God? How could we all be born again?

This was the key issue. The early church instinctively understood that our doctrine of the Trinity is intimately connected to our doctrine of salvation. If we define the Trinity in the wrong way, then we aren’t saved. If we get the Trinity wrong, then we’ll never leave Kansas, because there isn’t anywhere else to go. The church could compromise on some things, but they would not compromise on our salvation. A non-divine Jesus cannot assume our humanity. Thus the rallying cry, “what is not assumed (our humanity), cannot be redeemed.” If adding a single “i” to the creed would make Jesus like God, but not really God, then we are not born again, and Nicene Christians decided that keeping that “i” out of the Creed was worth fighting for, sometimes, literally, to the death.

It all boiled down to experience. If the early church knew anything, they knew what it meant to be born again. Under no circumstances would they let this absolutely sacred experience be defined away. We too must know experientially what it means to be born again. In our transformed, born again lives, people will see, and experience, the Trinity.

As I look back, my almost mystical, out of Kansas experience of the Trinity in the Orthodox church was actually my first step in becoming Episcopalian. I found everything about that experience, and more, right here.

The Nicene faith of the Episcopal church preserves for us, in a wonderfully delicate balance between experience and explanation, a holy Trinity, experienced in our worship and liturgy as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, in whose triune-divine life our humanity is taken to heaven, and we are born again.

I can think of no better way to end this sermon than by singing one of the greatest hymns of the faith, Holy Holy Holy, hymn 332. Please join me as we worship experience the Trinity together.

Lift High The Cross

Good morning. When I was in my mid-twenties, I knew something about me wasn’t right. I was sad and depressed a lot of the time, and I was anxious and fearful about many things. I was intelligent and had a good education, but I felt lost, and I couldn’t decide what to do with my life. I had some good friendships, but my romantic relationships were, how should I say, less than satisfactory, characterized much more by need than by love. I started having panic attacks. I had absolutely no idea what was the matter with me. All I knew was that I was one messed up dude.

Then, one day I was in a book store, and I happened to pick up a book called “Co-Dependent No More.” As I began to browse this book a gigantic light turned on in my life. I had grown up with an alcoholic mother, and I knew this must have affected me somehow, but I had no idea how. As I began to read Co-Dependent No More, everything about my life began to make sense. The portrait the author painted about the psychological baggage that children of alcoholics carry described me perfectly. This book was a mirror that clearly showed me who I was. Now I knew why I was messed up. Now I knew why I had boundary issues, and why I was taking care of people all the time. Now I knew I wasn’t crazy. Now I knew there was hope. Picking up that book that day changed the course of my life.

During the season of Lent, the church provides us with many mirrors that show us who we really are. The ashes of Ash Wednesday are a mirror that show us that we are dust, and to dust we shall return. The stations of the cross are a mirror that show us that our earthly journey is often a journey of sorrows and death. The stripping of the altar on Holy Thursday is a mirror showing us that one day we too will be stripped of all that we are. When we look into the mirror of Lent, we see ourselves.

Our Lenten readings this morning tell us about a very special mirror in which we can clearly and honestly see our reflection. Like the book I picked up in the bookstore, looking into this mirror can change our lives.

In the gospel of John, Jesus says that when He is lifted up from the earth, He will draw all people to himself. In John chapter three, Jesus says something very similar. He says that just as Moses lifted up the snake in desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in Him may have eternal life. The story of Moses lifting up the snake in the desert gives us some powerful clues to how Jesus’ death will bring healing to the world.

In the book of Numbers, chapter twenty-one, God’s people are having a very rough time. They are wandering in the desert, and they are not happy campers. In verse five they spoke against God and Moses, saying, “Why have you brought us out of Egypt to die in this desert? There is no bread! There is no water! And we detest this miserable food!! In other words, “why aren’t we there yet!!”

Well, Yahweh didn’t like their attitude, so He sent venomous snakes among them. The snakes bit the people, and many of them died. Why did God do this? God was teaching His people that the face you present to the world is the face the world presents to you. In other words, the world mirrors our attitude.

We know what principle this is like. If we approach the world in a suspicious and paranoid way, then the world is always a conspiracy of people trying to get us. If we approach the world as victims, then the world always finds a way to victimize us. And if we approach the world like snakes, with biting anger and bitterness, then the world always finds a way to bite us right back. This is what was going on with God’s people in the desert. They were angry. They were bitter. They were venomous against God and Moses. So, in order to teach them that the face we present to the world is the face the world presents to us, God sent them poisonous snakes as a perfect mirror of their attitude.

And the people got it. Sort of. They knew things had gone very wrong, and that they had sinned against God, so they begged Moses to do something. The people realized they were wrong, but they didn’t really know why. So, in the midst of this horrible disaster in the desert, what does Moses do? He walks into the middle of the people, and he doesn’t say a word. All he does is hold up a pole with a bronze snake on it. And the people must have thought, great, here we are dying of snake bites, and all our fearless leader can think to do is hold up a stupid snake on a pole? But you know what? It worked! Everyone who looked on the snake was healed.

Why? Because they realized, for the first time, that the snake was them. The symbol of the snake was a perfect mirror of the bitter, venomous condition of their hearts. When finally they saw themselves clearly in the mirror of the bronze snake, they were healed.
As a psychotherapist, I absolutely love this story. It is so psychologically right on. The right symbol, the right mirror, at just the right time, can be incredibly healing in our lives. When I picked up Co-Dependent No More in the bookstore, I was in the same condition as the people of God in the desert. I didn’t know the true condition of my heart, and the world had been beating me up real good. But at just the right moment, when I was ready to see it, that book showed me who I was. And I began to be healed.

Now, Jesus says that just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so too must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that all who believe in Him might have eternal life. What does this mean? It means that Jesus is the perfect mirror, and when we look into God’s perfect mirror, we see ourselves, and we are healed. That’s big stuff. That’s the whole gospel right there.

What do we see when we look into the perfect mirror of Jesus? First, we see Jesus’ divinity. Teilhard de Chardin, the great Roman Catholic theologian, says that we need very much for Jesus to be fully human. But Teilhard says, even more, we need Jesus to be God. Humanity yearns for someone who transcends both humanity and mortality, someone we can hope in and worship, someone who is the fulfillment of our highest aspirations. Jesus perfectly reflects, and fulfills, our deepest yearnings, hopes, and dreams.

When we look into Jesus we see a perfection reflection of God. In Hebrews chapter one, verse three, the author says that Jesus is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being. The Greek word for exact representation means something that bears the exact imprint, or the exact stamp, of the original.

In the Roman world when a government official sent a document to another official, he placed his personal stamp on wax that sealed the document. The imprint in the wax bore the exact representation and the exact imprint of the original. Jesus is the exact imprint, the exact representation of the Father. In perfectly reflecting God’s being, Jesus, when He is lifted up, shows us what we have been longing for our whole lives. In clearly seeing both God, and ourselves, we are healed.

Next, when we see Jesus lifted up, we see His lifelong struggle against evil. Jesus said now is the time for the prince of this world, the devil, to be driven out. Jesus battled evil from the very beginning. Shortly after He was born Herod tried to kill Him. As Jesus began His ministry He was tempted by the devil in the desert. Several times the crowds and Pharisees tried to stone Him. One of His best friends, Peter, was used by the devil to try to undermine Jesus’ need to suffer and die. Another friend of Jesus, Judas, betrayed Him. All His friends deserted Him in the end.

Just like Jesus, all of us have struggled against evil. We have all felt that scary, cold something in ourselves, in certain situations, in particular people, and in the world, that can only be described as an evil force working to destroy us and the ones we love. We all know if we are not careful, that evil force uses our weaknesses to turn us away from God. In one way or another, we have all been wounded by the prince of darkness. We have all felt the devil knocking on our door.

I didn’t ask for my mom to be an alcoholic. She didn’t ask for her dad to be an alcoholic. We are both victims of the evil of addiction. No one here ever asked for the evil things that have happened to us. Being human means evil sometimes touches us.

When we see Jesus lifted up on the cross, in the supreme act of resisting evil, we see ourselves, the victims of an evil world where the devil still has power. Jesus on the cross is the perfect mirror, portraying our own personal struggles against the devil. In seeing our deepest struggles with evil in Jesus’ struggles, we are healed.

Next, when Jesus is lifted up, we see His innocence, the innocence of a lamb being led to the slaughter. Jesus lived only to serve others, and yet, the world too often turned against Him. His own brothers and sisters doubted that he was the Christ. The Pharisees, the guardians of Jewish orthodoxy, rejected His message and hounded Him every step of the way. His disciples never really caught on to what Jesus was saying. The crowds thought He should be a conquering King. In a show trial His own people handed Him over to the Romans to be executed. He was crucified among thieves. Jesus was innocent of ever harming anyone, and yet the world harmed Him whenever it could.

Jesus’ experience is our experience. Sometimes, no matter what we do, life just doesn’t work out. We can do everything right, and still lose. We can pour ourselves out for our families and friends, and nevertheless be utterly rejected. We can give ourselves unselfishly to our work, and then be fired for no reason at all. We can take wonderful care of ourselves physically, and still contract a terminal disease. We can love and nurture our church, and still have it wounded by something completely outside our control. We all know what its like to give life our very best shot, and end up totally defeated. We are all lambs being led to the slaughter.

Jesus knows what we are feeling. He lived a perfect life, and lost everything. When we see Jesus lifted up, in His innocence we see our own innocence in the face of a world that is often very cruel, and in seeing ourselves in Him, we are healed.

In addition to Jesus being an innocent lamb led to the slaughter, Jesus was also the sinless lamb of God. Jesus committed no sin, yet he took on the sins of the world. In the face of everything the world and the devil could throw at Him, He prayed that God would forgive because we know not what we do. As the prophet Isaiah said, “Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered Him stricken by God, smitten by Him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.”

Beholding the sinless life of Jesus reveals our own sin. We have not only been victims of evil; we have perpetrated evil. We have not only been defeated by a cruel world; we have defeated others by our cruelty. We have not only been tempted by sin; we have tempted others to participate in sin. We have not only been betrayed by our friends; we have betrayed our friendships and forsaken those we love. When Jesus is lifted up, His sinless life reveals how far short we all fall, and His life reveals how much we all need Jesus to be our Savior. When we see this, we are healed.

Finally, when Jesus is lifted up, we see Him participating in the great mystery of death. Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The person who loves his life will lose it, while the person who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

The entire story of the universe is a story of life and death. Galaxies are formed, and galaxies die. Stars are born, stars die, and from the supernovae death of stars come new stars and planets. Seasons bring life, and seasons bring death. Life gives birth to new life. Death of life provides the food and sustenance for new life. Relationships are born, and relationships die. Our parents are born, they love us, and then they die. We will follow them to the grave. In creativity we build and give meaning to our lives. In death we will be remembered no more.

Jesus, the Son of God and the Son of Man, participates fully in this great mystery of death. The God who gives life to all things dies lifted up on a cross. The story of the universe becomes God’s own story. Death is trampled down and transformed by God. It is an incredible mystery.

As we experience death in our lives, Jesus asks to trust Him. He tells us to remember the lesson of the seed. Unless the seed falls to the ground and dies, it will not bear fruit. We need not fear death. There is life on the other side, and fruitfulness that we can’t even begin to imagine. When Jesus is lifted up on the cross, and we see him participating in and transforming the great mystery of death, we know that though we will die, we will never be abandoned, and in this certainty we are healed.

Just as the bronze serpent became a mirror that healed God’s children in the desert, so too gazing into the mirror of Jesus’ perfect life shows us who Jesus really is, and who we really are. In seeing this, we are be healed. But how? How does seeing ourselves in a mirror heal us?

The answer is that we become what we gaze at. If we stare at potato chip ads all day on T.V., then we become a couch potato. If we gaze deeply into the materialism of our culture, then we will judge our worth by how much money we make and how many toys we have. But if we focus our attention on who Jesus really is, and who we really are, then we become honest and authentic Christians. Honestly and authentically knowing who we are is healing. Honestly and authentically knowing who we are builds character.

In our reading this morning from Jeremiah God says that He will make a new covenant with His people, a new covenant where “I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God and they will be my people.” God does not want His people to follow the law as an exterior code of conduct. He promises to write His law on our hearts, and make it a part of our very being. In other words, His law will become part of our character. His law will imprinted on our souls. When we focus our gaze on Christ, we become Christlike.



Remember the Greek word I mentioned earlier from Hebrews that said that Jesus was the exact representation of God? That Greek word is ‘karacter’, from which we get our English word character. To be the exact representation of something means you bear the character of something. You are authentic because you carry the character of the original.

We are authentic Christians because we carry the imprint and character of God in our hearts. We are children of God because His law, through the New Covenant, is not an exterior code but His character imprinted on our souls. Through beholding Jesus on the cross, we honestly and authentically know who we are, we know who Jesus is, and in this knowing God’s character is burned into our souls. We are authentic. We carry the character of the original. We are little Christs. We are children of God. We are healed.

When I picked up “Co-Dependent No More” in the bookstore, I saw myself for the first time. That was not the end of my healing, but the beginning. Because of that experience I immediately got into therapy, and I am still healing today. It hasn’t been easy. But it has been good. Very good. And I am very happy to report that my mom has been sober now for over twenty-five years. God is healing us both.

Lent is not an easy time. It is never easy to see ourselves honestly and authentically. The church gives us many mirrors during Lent in which we can see God, and ourselves. Through these holy reflections God is building his character in our souls. May we continue to gaze at Christ lifted up during the remainder of Lent, and may His imprint in our souls become a light to the world.

Watch Your Step

Good morning. Before I was married, my apartment mate was a man named Roger. Roger loved God deeply, attended seminary, and is now married and the father of six. Roger continues to walk with Jesus, and I am glad he is still my friend and brother in the Lord.

However, when I lived with Roger, I learned that he had some very, how shall I say, “curious” ideas about Christianity. For example, Roger believed that slavery was not a bad thing. The apostle Paul never condemned slavery, so neither should we. Roger believed, therefore, that the American Civil War was a tragically unnecessary conflict, because North and South sacrificed over five hundred thousand young men for something that God had no problem with. Curious.

Roger also believed women should never speak in church, and that women should never teach men or have authority over them. This was, in Roger’s opinion, the apostle Paul’s rule in the New Testament church, and if it was good enough for the New Testament, it is good enough for us. Again, curious.

In addition to these beliefs, Roger was convinced that those who believed slavery was wrong, and those who believed that women could speak in church and teach men, needed to repent. Roger didn’t seem so curious to me anymore. Now he was getting personal. Roger was not aggressive. He honestly thought I was wrong, and that if the church were to be an effective witness in the world, then people like me needed to get our act together, and return to the Bible. Needless to say, my discussions with Roger about these issues were “spirited”, and sometimes we “spirited” at the top of our lungs!

Our readings this morning deal with the same issues Roger and I discussed: repentance, slavery, how we relate to our culture, and how the people of God can be a light to the world. When dealing with repentance, the most important thing is, we have to watch our step.

Our gospel reading gives us the theme for all our readings, and this theme is something that Roger and I would both agree on. After John the Baptist was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee preaching the same message that John had preached: “The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe the good news.” Then Jesus saw Simon and Andrew, and he told them, “follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Repentance, and being fishers of men, go together. If we are going to attract others to Christ, then first, we must repent. We must return to God before we can lead others to God. On one hand, it is just that simple. If we are going to be a light to the world, then we must be sure our light is clean and shining. On the other hand, it is not quite so simple. What is sin? What precisely do we need to repent from? What does it mean to walk in the light? This is where Roger and I began to disagree.

Our scripture from Jeremiah gives us a good idea of what sin is. Israel had been unfaithful to God and needed to repent. Why? Jeremiah tells us the people of God had perverted their ways, and had forgotten the Lord their God, by what they did on the High Places. What were the High Places? The High Places were spiritual sanctuaries, on mountain and hilltops, where the nations surrounding Israel practiced their religion. The religion of the High Places was not the religion of Israel. The religion of the High Places was an abomination to God.

For example, sacred prostitution, both male and female, was practiced on the High Places. Here is a quotation that gives a good sense of what female sacred prostitution meant to the religions surrounding Israel: “Every woman, at least once in her life, received in the goddess’s name a man who was a stranger to her who himself represented an incarnate god. Sexual intercourse, through sympathetic magic, assured fertility of the land, of the flocks, and of the family. Here female equals blood, milk, body, fertility, and continuity of life. She is not yet an individual person, but a primordial natural force, awesome in its power to bring life, to convey the transcendent through sexual ecstacy. In this sense her body is not just a vehicle, but a presence, divine energy housed in the flesh. Through it she opens a man to the penetration of the divine and opens herself to the encompassing of it.”

Besides sacred prostitution, infants were sacrificed on the High Places. Infant sacrifice, again through sympathetic magic, offered innocence and potential to assure fertility of the land, the flocks, and the family. An infant was not yet an individual person, but a primordial force of nature whose sacrifice could alter the course of nature.

Clearly, the spirituality of the High Places was not the spirituality of Yahweh and the Bible. The key point is this: In Jewish spirituality, men, women, infants, and God, were fully persons. This was a tremendous step forward in religious thought. Men and women were not just primordial forces of nature, who could be used to manipulate nature. They were individuals. Persons. Infants were not just primordial forces of nature, who could be used to manipulate nature. They were individuals. Persons. Sexuality was not just a participation in the primordial forces of nature. Sexuality was a sacred relationship between individual persons. Most important of all, God was not just the greatest primordial force of nature. God was a person, His name was Yahweh, He could not be manipulated, and He was extremely ticked off that His people kept backsliding into High Place spirituality.

Why was Yahweh so angry? Because to treat men, women, infants, and God as less than individual persons was a tremendous step backwards for the Jewish people. At the time, they were the only people who understood that God was a person, and that because He was a person, all people were persons too. If they lost this, they lost everything. The Jewish people kept stepping backwards into High Places spirituality. God through His prophets called them to repent. They could not be a light to the Gentiles, and fishers of men, if they kept stepping backwards.

Though we have come a long way, we “modern” people still have our High Places. There are four areas where we can step backwards into High Places spirituality if we are not careful. First, sometimes it is tempting to reduce our spirituality to something less than personal. I know we all love Star Wars, but as Christians, we just don’t do the Force. Sorry Judy. The Force is great fun, interesting psychology, and great mythology, but its just not good theology. Our God is a person who is all good. He is not a force who can be used for good or evil. Careful we must be. Strong is the dark side. The Force, nature, psychology, science; any of these can become a less than personal substitute for God.

Second, we can seek guidance in life in ways that resemble High Places spirituality. Psychic readings, astrology, ouija boards, and other occultic practices promise to provide guidance for important decisions we make in life. The problem is, it is guidance without a Guide. In Christian spirituality, when it comes to guidance, we are, unfortunately, promised nothing. We get no looks up ahead, and we get few clues about what might be coming. All we are promised is that the Guide, Jesus, will walk with us no matter what comes. If we seek guidance without a personal Guide, then we are slipping into High Places spirituality.

Third, sometimes our “modern” sexuality resembles High Places spirituality. When a man looks at Internet pornography, is he not saying that that woman is a primordial force of nature and sexuality, and not a person? In many ways, the computer screen has become an entrance and initiation into High Place temples of sacred prostitution. Also, when sexual attraction overwhelms us to the point that we leave our marriages and families for someone else, haven’t we allowed the primordial forces of sexuality to overcome our personal commitments to other persons and to God? Isn’t this High Places spirituality?

Finally, when we reduce any group of people to a category only, then we are practicing High Places spirituality. I was guilty of this last summer. When gangs of thugs were looting New Orleans and shooting at medical helicopters after hurricane Katrina, I mentioned to Andrea that these people had gone sub-human, and should just be shot on sight. My feelings were understandable, but my thinking was wrong. No human being that God created ever goes into the category of sub-human. No matter how despicably they are acting. They are still persons. Whenever we categorize, we are in danger of making people less than persons. The poor and the homeless are persons, they are not a category. Even terrorists are persons. Terrorists are individual persons who do what they do for very specific political reasons. With all human beings, we must move beyond the categories, and see the real people.

Up to this point, Roger would agree that when we take a step backwards, we need to repent, or we will not be fishers of men. But when we move to our New Testament reading, Roger and I quickly go in opposite directions.

In Corinthians Paul gives one of his rules for the church, and that rule is that each person should remain in the situation they were in when God called them. Are you uncircumcised? Don’t get circumcised, don’t become Jewish. Are you a slave? Don’t seek to be free. Wherever you are in life, stay there. This is an interesting approach to church life. Why did Paul say this?

As Christianity was beginning to spread through the Roman Empire, apparently Christians were not remaining in the life situation in which they found themselves. Christianity was a mighty wind that was moving and energizing Christians, and this was causing problems. Paul’s great principle, found in Galatians 3:28, was that in Jesus Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female. All are one in Christ Jesus. Christians were taking Paul seriously. If there is neither Jew nor Greek, maybe I am free to stop being Jewish. If there is neither slave nor free, maybe I am free to leave my yoke of slavery. If there is neither male nor female, maybe I am free to do things that women could never do before. Clearly, the social implications of all Christians being one in Christ Jesus were explosive.

Paul had to make a decision. The revolutionary and socially explosive power of Christianity could easily shatter the young church and destroy the gospel. If Jewish Christians started renouncing their Jewish heritage, then Christianity could easily come to be seen as some bizarre anti-country movement. If non-Christians saw Christianity that way, then the gospel would be destroyed. If Christian slaves started walking away from their owners in the name of Christ, then Christianity could easily come to be seen as an anti-slavery revolt like the revolt of Spartacus. If non-Christians saw Christianity that way, then the gospel would be destroyed. If Christian women started speaking in church, and teaching and leading men, then Christianity could easily come to be seen, in the eyes of an extremely patriarchial culture, as some crazy Greek mystery religion, where women did all kinds of crazy things, and if non-Christians saw Christianity that way, then the gospel would be destroyed.

Paul decided that, for the sake of the gospel, Christians in the Roman Empire must limit their freedom in Christ. Everyone was to stay where they were. If Jewish, remain Jewish. If Greek, remain Greek. If a slave, remain a slave. If a woman, remain silent. If, in this culture, walking in all the freedom of Christ would destroy the gospel, then we won’t do it. To step forward in freedom when the culture isn’t ready, is wrong. If we step forward at this time, then we need to repent. If we step forward now, we will never be fishers of men.

For Jeremiah, if we step backwards away from a personal God of the universe, and if we step backwards by seeing men, women and infants as less than persons, then we must repent. For Paul, if we step forward, and our freedom destroys a person’s chance to know the personal God of the universe, then we must repent. For both Jeremiah and Paul, it is all about knowing God, being a light to the nations, and being fishers of men.

Roger, unfortunately, never bought any of this. The stuff about Jeremiah was okay, but he thought I was absolutely, totally wrong about Paul. In Roger’s view, which is the view of many, Paul was saying that what happened in this world was not important compared to what happened in heaven. Because we are all one in Christ Jesus, it really doesn’t matter if we are Jew or Greek. Because we are all one in Christ Jesus, it really doesn’t matter if some people are masters and some people are slaves.

Roger thought that because we are all one in Christ Jesus, it doesn’t matter if women can’t teach or have authority over men. A slave-owning culture is not important. A strongly patriarchal culture is not important. What is important is heaven. What is important is that we are all saved. Christians should stay in the situations they are in because these situations really don’t matter. Knowing God no matter your situation is what counts. If we try to change culture to more perfectly conform to Christian ideals, then we confuse heaven and earth, and from this confusion we must repent.

On this subject Roger and I were on totally opposite shores. In my view, what we believe about heaven has EVERYTHING to do with how we behave on earth. All situations matter. But, I had one more weapon in my arsenal, and with this weapon I could get personal too. When I did, oh boy did Roger ever get “spirited.” My secret weapon was that I told Roger, nicely but assertively, that he needed to repent. Two could play that game. When I told him to repent, watch out.

You see, I believe there is implicit in Paul’s teachings the idea that though there are times when we limit our freedoms for the sake of the gospel, there are other times when we demand our freedoms in Christ, also for the sake of the gospel.

In the Roman Empire, the full implications and freedoms of Galatians 3:28 could not be implemented without destroying the gospel. But cultures change. The hope and the promise of Galatians 3:28 percolated through Western culture, over many many centuries, until in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds people in England and America began to see that slavery just wasn’t a very good idea. And a little bit later people began to see that women should have the same rights and freedoms as men.

At this crucial point, when culture has caught up to Christianity, if the church doesn’t stand up and say now is the time, and if the church doesn’t demand that slavery end, and if the church doesn’t demand that women be fully equal with men, then we greatly damage the gospel. If the world has figured out that slavery is wrong, and Christians insist on defending it, then we undermine the gospel, and we must repent. If the world has figured out that women should be equal in every way to men, and Christians insist that women cannot do what men can do, then we undermine the gospel, and we must repent.

One of the most tragic ironies in church history is that when one of Christianity’s most sacred treasures, Paul’s idea that we are all one in Christ Jesus, finally begins to transform culture in a truly wonderful way, what is the one institution in society that is most resistant and most opposed to these changes? THE CHURCH!!!!! AAAAAHHHHH!!!!! What is up with that? What are we thinking?

If we are going to be a light to the nations, and fishers of men, then we must repent. If we step backwards away from a personal God, then we must repent. If we step forward in freedom when we shouldn’t, and keep others from seeing our personal God, then we must repent. And if we fail to step forward when we should, if we fail to insist on those things that God is bringing forth in the world to make all people more fully human, then we must repent. It’s just that simple.

As all of us at Christ The King strive to be faithful fishers of men, let us help each other to watch our steps. Like the people of Israel, we are surrounded by a foreign culture and foreign gods. It isn’t easy to see the ways we have stepped backwards, and it isn’t easy to know how and when we should step forward. May we help one another as we keep pressing on to know our personal God more deeply, and may we help one another as we strive to introduce our personal God to the world.

Amen

Sad Coyote

Dearest Coyote,
Is that a tear in your eye?
Did the moon make you sad?

Why did they all have to go?
I don't know.
You have to do what
you have to do,
They said.

Oh well.
Carry on.
Will we never see
That every group is me?

Sad Coyote.
Only your howl
Greets the stars tonight

Wireless Coyote

Behold the wireless Coyote,
Sitting in a coffee shop,
Connected to the internet,
Sipping his mocha,
Posting to his blog.

Digital Coyote.

Do you howl at the moon
In binary code?

Epiphany

Epiphany


Human beings are remarkable creatures. We seem to have an innate drive, deep in our souls, to leave our homes, and explore the world. If scientists are correct, early humans left Africa and spread over the whole earth. In these migrations humans spread through Asia and crossed the Bering Straight into North and South America, and, from Asia humans got into boats and traveled to Australia. It is an amazing story. Why did they go? What were they looking for?

In modern times, European explorers “discovered” the world. As the world was being discovered, scientists began exploring the mysteries of mathematics and science. Now telescopes and astronauts explore the heavens, while microscopes and particle colliders explore the world of the very small. Human beings are many things, but perhaps first and foremost, we are explorers.

My great grandfather was an explorer. In 1849, while he was living in Ohio, gold was discovered in California. My great grandfather and a group of friends talked it over, formed a team, and set off across the great plains to rush for gold. He wrote a diary about his adventures which was later published as a book. Why did he leave his job and family, and undertake a punishing seven month trip to Sutter’s Mill? Because he hoped that if he could get lucky, and get rich, his life would be different forever. He got reasonably lucky, though it took him three years. And his life was changed. Forever.

Today we celebrate the feast of Epiphany, and I have always thought of the Magi as explorers. We know almost nothing about them, but we can figure out some things, and I’ll bet they were like my great grandfather in many ways.

Like my ancestor, word came to them that something important, something precious, had happened in a far away land. They were probably astrologers, and one day they realized that all the stars had lined up, and a new king had been born. But the new king was far away. Like my great grandfather, the Magi had to decide if it was worth making a long trip. Were they up to it? Was the “pull” of finding the new king strong enough to overcome the “pull” of staying home? Sure, a long trip could be fun. But it could also be very dangerous. If they didn’t go would they regret it? If they did go, would they regret it? These are the questions that all explorers ask.

Like my ancestor, they decided to go, and in my mind it was, all things considered, a more difficult journey than the one my great-grandfather made. The biggest problems my ancestor faced were indians, disease, and snow. But, it only took seven months. My guess is that it took the Magi close to three years to get to Jerusalem. We know this because after the Magi met Herod, he ordered all boys three years and younger to be killed, so the Magi probably saw the star three years before they arrived. Three years on the road is a long, long time. I am sure many times they asked themselves, “why, again, are we doing this?” And, “what exactly are we looking for?”

It was a journey where they had no idea if they would find the “gold”. Every good astrologer, then and now, knows there is a great deal of interpretation involved in predictions. Before they left, I imagine they talked among themselves, saying things like, “are you sure that star being in that house means a king?” And every year that went by, that question got louder and louder. My great-grandfather knew for sure there was gold in California. He hoped he would find some. The Magi didn’t know for sure that there was a new king in Israel. And there must have been times when they had virtually no hope of finding him. But still, they pressed on.

And, they found the gold. They found the king. They probably stayed a few days, maybe a few weeks, and then they went home. It was worth it. They made the right decision. And I imagine when they were old, they believed, like my great grandfather did, that those years, and that journey, were the best times of their lives.

All of us are on a sacred journey. And I believe that all of us are explorers. Most people in this world simply live life. The good that comes their way, and the bad, are simply lived and experienced. But we, as Christians, are looking for more. We believe that the journeys we are on have meaning. We believe that in the journeys of life, both easy and difficult, Christ is conforming us into His image.

And so, in each journey, we explore. We search out God’s will. We try to figure out what we should do, and then we try to do it. We ask ourselves, “What is God doing,” and, “what are we supposed to be finding on this journey?” We believe with all all hearts that there is pure gold in everything we experience, and so, at all times, we are looking for that gold. We believe that both the destination, and the journey, are infinitely valuable. We already know it is worth it.

For that reason, I believe that many times the journey of a Christian is the hardest journey of all, because we seek meaning where the world screams at us that there is no meaning at all. Sometimes nothing is harder than to trust that God is there, when all the evidence seems to say there is no God. We do everything we can to go the distance, when going the distance is the hardest journey of all. We believe, and that is both the best thing, and the hardest thing, we will ever do.

That’s why none of us can journey alone. We need help in finding the gold. We need the help of our brothers and sisters. We can do it, we can get there, but only in community. We can go the distance, but only if our brothers and sisters help us and encourage us along the way. We will find the gold only as we deeply rely on the gold in the hearts of our fellow Christians.

Human beings are explorers. Christians are the greatest explorers of all. The Magi are an example for us of faith, commitment, perseverance, and ultimately, reward. As we journey into Christlikeness, within the community of the Body of Christ, may we too find the gold, and the King, in the year of our Lord two thousand and six.

Advent Matrix

Good morning. One of the best Christmas seasons I ever enjoyed was fourteen years ago. I had recently completed my psychotherapy degree, and I was working at a small counseling center in Loveland. On the hour-long rides up and back I listened to Christmas music, and Chuck Swindoll, an evangelical radio preacher, was teaching a wonderful series on the life of Mary. It was a special contemplative season, and I was sorry to see it end.

I wish I could tell you that all my Christmas seasons were like that one. But I can’t. Too many times I have arrived in January feeling sad that the season went too fast, and that I did too little to make it a meaningful time.

I’m sure we have all regretted Christmas seasons that got away. Why do we do that? In this most special season, why is it so hard sometimes for Christians to enter into the holy mystery of Christmas? Well, I have a theory about that. I believe the day after Thanksgiving, we are all given a choice. We can swallow the blue pill, or the red pill. Far too often we swallow the blue pill, and next thing you know, Christmas is over, and we missed it.

You all know what I’m talking about, right? I’m talking about the movie “The Matrix.” In this very popular movie that came out several years ago, a young man named Neo comes to believe that something about this world just isn’t right. There is something mysterious he can’t quite figure out. A John the Baptist figure named Morpheus sits Neo down and puts two pills in his hand, a red pill and a blue pill. Morpheus tells Neo that if he takes the blue pill, he will wake up in bed the next day, and he will have no memory of anything being wrong in the world, no memory of any mysteries, no memory even of Morpheus. But, if he takes the red pill, he will begin an exciting and dangerous journey which will show him the truth. The red-pill journey will strip Neo of his illusions, and reveal to him the true nature of the mystery of life.

The day after Thanksgiving we are all given a red pill and a blue pill. If we take the blue pill, we will wake up on January 2nd, and we will not remember anything about Advent, or Christmas, or truth. The Christmas season will simply be a hazy memory of consumer pressures, mall Christmas music, and too many things to do. But, if we take the red pill, we will begin an Advent journey where we will find the truth, where we will be stripped of our illusions, and where we will better understand the deep and holy mysteries of life. If we take the red pill, we will wake up on January 2nd, and we will be different people.

Our readings this morning are a call to a red-pill journey. Our readings show us that Christmas is about miracles, about home, and about hope, but miracles, home, and hope stripped of illusions and misconceptions. Our readings are a call to truth. And to battle. So, join me this morning as we take the red pill, and follow the white rabbit into the Matrix.

The first illusion and misconception we must battle at this time of year is what I call the illusion of the ordinary. This illusion says there is Christmas time, and there is ordinary time. Our culture works hard to cultivate the illusion that there is the holiday season, and there is regular life. In the church we have our own version of this illusion. After Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, and Pentecost, what is the rest of the church year called? Traditionally, we call the rest of the year ordinary time. But the idea of ordinary time is an illusion, and our Old Testament reading blows it up.

In Second Samuel chapter seven, the prophet Nathan announces to David that he will be greatly blessed, and that his house and throne will endure forever. From David’s house and line will come the Messiah, who will give Israel a home where they will no longer be disturbed, and where wicked people will not oppress them anymore. One of David’s descendants would be, in the angel’s words to Mary, the Son of the Most High, who will sit on the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and his kingdom will have no end.

What a miraculous blessing and promise for King David! For me, what is just as miraculous is that David lived long enough to get this promise at all. That is a miracle. David could have been killed by Goliath. Saul tried to kill David for years, and he almost succeeded. David survived dozens and dozens and dozens of battles with surrounding tribes. He was so discouraged that at one point he even fought for the Philistines. But through it all, David survived, he became King, and one of his descendants became the Messiah. All of David’s life was a miracle.

The fact that David’s line survived down to Mary was just as miraculous. After the promise of the Messiah, David had to endure the consequences of his sins of murder and adultery. His own son Absalom waged a civil war against him. The Kings who followed David were, for the most part, not so good. Israel’s fortunes declined, and the kingdom was destroyed and taken to Babylon. Somehow they returned, reorganized, and continued. Israel then survived the invasion of Greek culture, and later occupation by the Romans.

Absolutely miraculously, David’s line survived, until one day and angel appeared to David’s descendant Mary, and announced that she, a virgin, would give birth to the Messiah. Mary said, “how can this be?” The angel said, with God, nothing is impossible. Indeed.

At Christmas, we focus almost exclusively on the miracle of Christ’s virgin birth. We lose sight of the fact that God had been working miraculously in ordinary history for thousands of years to bring about Christ’s birth. The subtle illusion and misconception is that when the angel tells Mary that nothing is impossible with God, we think he is talking to Mary only about the virgin birth. In reality, the angel is talking about all of life.

The truth of Christmas is that there is no ordinary life. In exactly the same way that God miraculously worked in history to bring about the birth of Christ from the line of David, so too He has worked in “ordinary” history, from the beginning of time, to bring forth each and every one of us. Christ’s miraculous birth is the confirmation that all of us are God’s miraculous handiwork.

If you are like me, there are many times when I don’t feel particularly special. I look at all the billions of people in the world, or at the trillions of galaxies in the universe, and it seems likely that I am not very important. How could I be? Certainly, my joys and sorrows, my successes and defeats, are not at the center of anyone’s reality but my own. But the glorious truth of Christmas is that, in a very special way, I am at the center of reality. And so are you. If Christmas confirms that God worked through history to preserve the line of David, then Christmas certainly confirms that God has worked through history to miraculously create, love, and preserve each and every one of us. The angel tells us, with God, nothing is impossible.

All of life is miraculous, not just the big events. If we believe there is a difference between the special and the ordinary, then we have taken the blue pill. There is no ordinary life.

The second illusion and misconception we must battle at this time of year is what I call the illusion of activity. Our culture works hard, especially at this time of year, to make us think that we must do, do, do, and if we do, then we will be happy. Activity results in happiness. As Christians we have a similar version of this illusion. We believe we must do something for God, before He will do something for us. Good works result in God’s blessing. This sounds logical. And many Christians have taught through the years that before God can work in our lives, we must first do something for God. But David’s story in Second Samuel tells us that this kind of thinking just isn’t right.

After the death of Saul, David succeeded in uniting the tribes of Israel under his kingship. He made Jerusalem the capital, and he brought the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem. But David wanted more. He said to Nathan the prophet, “Here I am, living in a palace of cedar, while the ark of God remains in a tent.” David wanted to build a glorious temple for the ark. But God had other ideas.

God says to David, “you want to build me a home? Well, let me tell you about the home I am going to build for you.” And then God proceeds to tell David that his son will build a temple, and that through David’s line the Messiah will come. God promises to make his home with David, David’s son Solomon, and David’s entire lineage, down to Mary. That comes first. Once God makes His home with us, then we can make a home for God.

At this time of year, the picture I have in my mind for God making His home with us is a great symbol of the faith. No, not the credit card, and no, not even the manger. The picture I have in my mind is a picture of a giant funnel. At the very top, at the open end, God decides to make His home in humanity. Then, moving down the funnel, God chooses one nation out of all nations in which to make his home. Israel. Then, further down the funnel, God selects one tribe of Israel, the tribe of Judah, which will be His home. Moving down the funnel, God then tells David that out of this one tribe, one family line, David’s, will be home to the Messiah. And then moving down the funnel to the very bottom, the angel tells Mary, your womb has been chosen to be the home of the Messiah, the Son of David. The entire Bible is a story about God making his home with us.

Christmas is the confirmation not only that there is no ordinary life, but also that there are no ordinary people. Each of us is the home of God. In exactly the same way that God funnelled all of life down to Mary, so too God funnels all of life down to each of us. The funnel that culminated in Mary united her humanity to Christ, the second person of the trinity. The funnel that stops in each of us unites our humanity to the third person of the trinity, the Holy Spirit. We are the dwelling place of God. The good news of Christmas is that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us.

Sometimes, however, we don’t get this home stuff right. We labor under the illusion and misconception that there is something we must do before God will make His home with us. We must pray first. We must repent first. We must do our Advent devotional first. We must get our holiday shopping done first. Then, when we are ready, God will come to us.

Sometimes it feels like the church fosters this illusion. We hear a lot about the need to attend services, partake of the sacraments, pledge our money, and give our time. We might think that we need to do these things first, so that God will be happy with us, and make His home with us.

Wrong. God making his home with us is always the first movement in the dance. Always. Before we were born, God is making his home with us. Before we ever went to church, God is making his home with us. Before we committed ourselves to following Christ, God is making his home with us. Before we begin the search process for a new priest, God is making his home with us. God making his home with us is always the beginning. The second step in the dance is what we do in response. If we believe that we must do something for God before He will do something for us, then we have taken the blue pill. God is always saying to us, just as he said to David, “you want to build me a home? Well, let me show you the home I am going to build for you.”

The third illusion and misconception we must battle this time of year is what I call the illusion of hopelessness. Our culture says, eat, drink, and be festive, because the rest of life is pretty meaningless and hopeless. Our Christian version of this illusion is the belief that Advent and Christmas are beautiful Christian oasis surrounded by the rest of the year, and the rest of the world, which are bleak and hopeless. Certainly, the rest of the year, and the rest of the world, appear to be dark places. Natural disasters kill hundreds of thousands. Human beings kill hundreds of thousands. Terrorists never seem to disappear. Relations between countries never seem to improve. The world does not seem to be getting any better. It seems to be getting worse.

And when we look at our own lives, our lack of spiritual development can be pretty discouraging. I turned forty eight yesterday, and I was thinking, “Jimbo, you are still dealing with some stuff you were dealing with twenty years ago.” Maybe I’m not getting any better either.

But this is an illusion. The apostle Paul tells us that things are getting better. God is building something special in the world. In Romans Paul tells us that there is a great mystery, hidden in ages past, but now made known and revealed through the prophetic writings. And this great mystery is that the funnel doesn’t stop with Mary and Jesus. It is with Mary and Jesus that another kind of funnel actually begins.

Imagine again that the funnel of God making His home with us is completed with Mary and Jesus. Now imagine that another funnel begins with Mary and Jesus, slowly getting broader and broader, spreading throughout the entire world. This funnel slowly spreads from Judea, to Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. This funnel is a community, the new Israel, the literal children of God, where God now makes His home. This new community understands that that there is no ordinary life, and that there are no ordinary people. This is a new people who have God living in their hearts. This people is the church.

The church is the mystery hidden for ages past, but now revealed in Christ. Though too many times it appears that our world is going to hell, the church shows us that there is a heavenly drama being played out, if we can just see it, where this world is getting better and better.

That drama, hidden in ages past but now revealed to everyone, centers on Jesus and Mary. From before the foundations of the world the Father chose humanity, and within humanity He chose one people, and from that people He chose one tribe, and from that tribe he selected one family, and from that family one person, Mary, gave birth to the Messiah. Mary and Jesus are the centerpiece of the drama. The funnel came down to Mary and Jesus.

But now, the funnel flows from Mary and Jesus. As the funnel gets wider and wider, God calls every tribe, and every race, and every people and every person to become a part of His body, the church. The funnel will keep getting wider and wider, until Christ returns. That is the true story of Christmas. That is the mystery of the church. Our world is not a hopeless place. Christ’s body, the church is spreading through time and all over the world. That is good news.

And the Holy Spirit who is spreading the church in hope is the same Spirit who is working in our hearts, changing us into Christ’s image from one degree of glory to another, even if we are dealing with the same stuff we dealt with twenty years ago. We are all becoming more Christ-like, and that is good and hopeful news.

And that is why we return, every December, to the image of a mother giving birth to a child. As only the Eastern Orthodox can phrase it, so poetically, Mary, the centerpiece of both funnels, is both the mother of God, and, the mother of the church. On that most holy night, Mary gave birth to the Savior, and she gave birth to all those who would be saved. You and me. It is a great, and beautiful, mystery. If we can’t see it, at least a little bit, then we may have taken the blue pill, because this mystery of hope is what Christmas and everything else is all about.

In the movie The Matrix, when given the choice, Neo takes the red pill. His journey to comprehend the truth is a difficult one, and it takes him a while before he can distinguish truth from illusion. But, at the end of the movie it all comes together for Neo, and he sees reality, both truth and illusion, as it really is.

In this Christmas season, when truth and illusion get more mixed up than usual, may we all resist blue pill temptations to fall asleep, and may we have the courage to take the red pill and see God’s reality. And may we all feel the Christmas joy of knowing that we are extra-ordinary people, living an extra-ordinary life, in a world filled with extra-ordinary hope.

Amen

I am Protecting You

I am taking away your civil liberties because I am protecting you.

Okay.

I sense a plot to destroy the Jedi.

What is the Supreme Chancellor up to?

Coyote Think

Coyote, do you believe in intuition?

No he says, but I have a strange feeling someday I will.

Like He Said

I don't agree with everything Charles Krauthammer says, but I love the way he writes. This gem says in a paragraph what I have believed for years.

"How ridiculous to make evolution the enemy of God. What could be more elegant, more simple, more brilliant, more economical, more creative, indeed more divine than a planet with millions of life forms, distinct and yet interactive, all ultimately derived from accumulated variations in a single double-stranded molecule, pliable and fecund enough to givew us mollusks and mice, Newton and Einstein? Even if it did give us the Kansas State Board of Education too."

Or if it gave us Pat Robertson. Nothing is perfect.

A Field Of Dreams

Good Morning. Over the course of my life there are three movies I have had a very emotional response to, and no, none of these three is a Star Wars movie! The first movie that really moved me was Born Free. This movie tells the story of a lioness, Elsa, who was born in captivity in Africa, and who must be returned to nature. Her return to the wild is incredibly difficult, but ultimately successful. I still cry every time I think of her heart-rending journey. The second movie that tugged at my heart was Forrest Gump. Forrest, a simple man with a giant heart, loves Jenny his whole life, after many years he finally gets to marry her, and then she dies. It gets me right here every time I see it, and that is all I have to say about that.

The third movie that really got to me was A Field Of Dreams. Ray Cansella, played by Kevin Costner, hears a voice telling him to plow up his Iowa corn field and build a baseball diamond. He builds it, and then baseball players from the past start showing up and playing on Ray’s baseball field. At the end of the movie Ray’s dad, who is long dead, appears, and Ray gets to play catch with him for the first time since he was a kid. Oh man! I remember seeing this movie with Andrea before we were married. Afterwards, I took Andrea home, went back to my apartment, and then bawled my eyes out for an hour. The strongest response I have ever had to a movie was to A Field Of Dreams.

Today we celebrate the Feast of All Saints, and my soul always responds to this Feast Day in a very deep way. And, I often think of the movie Field Of Dreams when I think of All Saints. This morning I want to use Field Of Dreams as a guide to understanding both our scripture readings and the Feast of All Saints. Both the movie and the Feast remind us that when we keep dreaming, and obey the Voice, we will find heaven.

So here is how Field Of Dreams starts. Ray Cansella is out in his cornfield, and he hears a Voice saying, “If you build it, he will come.” He knows the Voice is telling him to build a baseball field right in the middle of his corn. And so, he obeys the Voice and builds a baseball field. Eventually one baseball player, long dead, Shoeless Joe Jackson, shows up to play baseball. And then, more and more players, the heroes of the game, all dead, start showing up to play. In one scene Ray tells his daughter about all the players in his corn field, what they were famous for, and what great ball players they were.

Ray Cansella was having an incredible All Saints experience. He was living in presence of the saints of baseball, he was reliving their experiences and praising their accomplishments, and, he got to actually play ball with his heroes. For a baseball fan, could this be heaven? Our Old Testament reading this morning encourages us to do exactly what Ray Cansella did. We are to sing the praises of our famous ancestors. We are encouraged to remember the prophets, rulers, musicians and other great people of our sacred past, who were godly and righteous followers of our Lord.

The author of Hebrews in the New Testament encourages us to do exactly the same thing. In Hebrews eleven, verse two, the author says “This is what the ancients were commended for,” and he then goes on to list, for an entire chapter, saint after saint who, by faith, followed God.

Why is it important to remember the saints, celebrate their lives, and praise their accomplishments? The main reason is this: within our remembrance, our celebration, and our praise, the saints are alive. When a baseball fan praises and celebrates dead players, it feels like those players are alive. But when we celebrate, remember, and praise the saints, we acknowledge that they actually are alive in Christ. The Feast of All Saints has nothing to do with the dead. The Feast of All Saints is a giant party when all living saints, whether in heaven or on earth, join together in worshiping God. Is this heaven?

So Ray Cansella plows up his corn, builds a baseball field, and baseball saints from the past start showing up. So far so good. But all is not good for Ray. He is running short of money, money from his corn crop that is now buried under a baseball field. How is Ray going to pay his bills? Just about then Ray hears the Voice again: Go the distance. Go the distance. What does that mean? The Voice is telling Ray that even though the journey is difficult, don’t give up. Go the distance.

On the Feast of All Saints, the saints are telling every one of us, go the distance. We finished the race, and so will you. After the long list of saints in Hebrews eleven, the author says: therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses (the saints), let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. When the going gets tough, we can go the distance, because the saints are cheering us on every step of the way. Switching sports metaphors for just a second, the image in Hebrews is running a race like the Bolder Boulder. When you run this 10-K you get very tired near the end, but as you hit the home stretch there are people lining both sides of the road, cheering you on, and many of those people are runners who have already finished the race, and who have come back to encourage those still running. That encouragement is like extra energy that carries you through the last mile. You know that if they went the distance, you can too.

In our gospel reading this morning, Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, and our companion on the journey, encourages all of us to persevere to the end. Blessed are you when you are poor in spirit. Go the distance, for your reward will be the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when you are sad and mourn. Go the distance, for you will be comforted. Blessed are you when you are meek. Go the distance, and you will inherit the earth. When the injustices of this world crush your soul, blessed are you when you hunger and thirst for righteousness. Go the distance, for you will be filled. Blessed are you when you show mercy to others. Go the distance, and mercy will be shown to you. Blessed are you when you heart is pure. Go the distance, for you will see God.

In this world of violence and destruction, blessed are you when you make peace. Go the distance, for you will be called children of God. Blessed are you when you are persecuted for righteousness sake. Go the distance, for yours is the kingdom of heaven. And blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil things against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, go the distance, because great is your reward in heaven.

The Feast of All Saints says with the saints cheering us on, and with Jesus at our side, we are going to make it. We will go the distance. Could this be heaven?

Now we come to the real turning point in the movie Field of Dreams. Ray is hearing voices again. This time the Voice says, “Ease His Pain.” What on earth could that mean? In the movie this means several things. First, Ray is supposed to go to Boston, find Terence Mann, and ease his pain. Terence Mann, played by James Earl Jones, is a sixties icon who is burned out. He used to dream dreams. He used to hear the Voice. But now he just wants to be left alone. Ray is to ease his pain by showing him his baseball field.

Second, at the end of the movie, Ray’s dad appears on the baseball field, and Ray realizes that he is supposed to ease his father’s pain. Like Terence Mann, Ray’s father had become burned out. Years of hard work and taking care of a family had worn him down. He wasn’t dreaming or hearing voices anymore either.

And Ray, with his baseball diamond in a field of corn, was on the verge of losing his dream too. Ray was about to lose his faith. He had obeyed the Voice, and seen long dead heroes of baseball show up on his field. But there was one big problem. The bank was about to foreclose on his farm. He was following his dream, and obeying the Voice, but he didn’t have the resources to make it work anymore. He was bankrupt. He could either stand by his dream and go under, or sell the farm and lose the dream. What would he do?

I think we at Christ The King know what Ray Cansella was going through. There has been a lot of change around here recently, and many of us are wondering, to greater and lesser degrees, where will we find the resources, both individually and corporately, to do what we have to do? How will we ease our pain?

Lets be honest. Sometimes, belonging to a church community is the pits. There is no other way to say it. Losing both our rector and assistant priest within one week is the pits. Even if it is God’s will, its still the pits. And it leaves us asking, who are we now? And, where will we find the resources to to what we have to do?

I have talked to many of you, and I know some of us are feeling sad, and angry, a bit panicky, and even orphaned. I understand these feelings because I have felt exactly the same things. And we are all wondering, how long will the search process take? How long will Christ the King be in this uncertain place? Where do we find the resources to deal with our uncomfortable feelings? Where do we find the financial resources to get us through this transition?

These are important, and sacred, questions. Though I can’t provide many answers, I can, I think, provide us with a direction. When we feel anxious about where we are going to find the resources to deal with all the feelings and issues we have to deal with, I say we must turn to the one and only place that has all the resources we need. And that place is, baseball.

When Ray Cansella had to decide whether to sell his farm or stick with his dream, Terrence Mann told him this:

“People will come, Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. Its been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past Ray. It reminds us of all that was once good, and could be again. Oh, people will come Ray. People will most definitely come.”

Isn’t that wonderful? Though America is like a blackboard that has been erased, rebuilt, and then erased again, baseball is a like a constant, never changing river that flows down through the generations. And when people connect to that transcendent, never changing river of baseball in Ray’s cornfield, they will find all the resources they need, and give the resources they have. Ray is not bankrupt. His field will pay for itself.

It is exactly the same for us. For us, the never changing river that flows down through the generations is the liturgy and the Eucharist. It is the one constant that marks the time. And though life sometimes steamrolls right over us, and though sometimes at church it feels like we build something, it is erased, and then we have to build it all over again, the liturgy and the Eucharist always continue. We are not empty. In the liturgy and the Eucharist we find all the resources we need. And having deeply connected with the liturgy and the Eucharist, we will give the resources we have. Priests will come and go. We have come. And someday, we will go. But the bread and wine becoming the body and blood of Christ continues forever.

At the end of Field of Dreams, Ray’s father asks, looking out over the baseball field, “is this heaven?” Ray says no, it’s Iowa. Then he looks around and says, maybe this is heaven. And then he asks his dad, “is there a heaven?” And his dad says, “oh yeah. Heaven is the place where dreams come true.” We all long for heaven. Our deepest yearning is for permanence, for joy, and for home. Many times this world seems far away from heaven, so we all hope that, someday, in the future, we will find our home with God.

But if you were to ask me, is there a heaven?, I would say, Oh yeah, it’s right here. The Eucharist is our field of dreams. The Eucharist is our heaven. If heaven is being in the presence of God, and worshiping Him with all the saints, then we are, right now, in heaven.

Every Eucharist, all the heroes of the faith join us in worshiping God. That is heaven! Listen to these words from Eucharist prayer C: “Therefore we praise you, joining with the heavenly chorus, with prophets, apostles, and martyrs, and with all those in every generation who have looked to you in hope, to proclaim with them your glory....Heaven doesn’t begin when we die. Heaven is right here. Right now. The Feast of All Saints is a yearly reminder that every Eucharist is All Saints. Every Eucharist is heaven. Every Eucharist we come home. When we anchor ourselves in the Eucharist, we anchor ourselves in All Saints.

So, in the spirit of All Saints, how do we navigate our pastoral transition? I suggest that we devote ourselves more than ever before to meditating on the mystery of the liturgy and the Eucharist, to prayerfully partaking of the Eucharist, and to seeing the whole world Eucharistically. In this time when church life is somewhat up in the air, we must be grounded by immersing ourselves in the timeless and changeless liturgical river that flows through the generations. In other words, we must fully explore the mystery of All Saints.

If you build it, he will come. As Christ is truly present in the bread and wine, so too he is truly present in His body, the church. Christ is eucharistically present in His people just as He is eucharistically present in the bread and wine. Therefore, we must continue to build and nourish the church, for in so doing we participate in the mystery of the Eucharist. We must continue our ministries, we must fulfill our mission statement, we must keep up our tithing, and we must reach out to the suffering and the lost. These are not just activities we do. These are participations in the mystery of the Eucharist.

Go the distance. In normal times life can sometimes be rocky. In a period of transition, rocky times are magnified. Issues that were small three months ago may feel much bigger now. That is why we must all hang in there and go the distance. Together. Perseverance through time is the preeminent characteristic of all the heroes of the faith. As we eucharistically worship with all the saints, we can learn from, and even lean on, their lives of perseverance.

Ease his pain. Some parts of our transition will be very exciting. Nevertheless, this is a painful time for all of us. And it is okay to talk about our pain. This is a wonderful time to listen to our brothers and sisters, and bear each others burdens. One of the great mysteries of the Eucharist is that Christ, in His sufferings, has healed the entire world. As we allow His healing to flow through us to others, we not only participate in the Eucharist, but we also represent Christ eucharistically to others.

Last week I read a small story about Lani McCool, the wife of Willie McCool, who was the pilot of the Space Shuttle Columbia when it disintegrated over Texas a few years ago. The story was about how Lani had tried to put her life back together after losing her husband in the shuttle tragedy. One line in the story really struck me. It said that Lani tried to go to church, but every time she got close, she started crying, “because the Eucharist is as close as we get to someone who’s dead”, and that reminded her of the times she and Willie attended church together.

What a wonderful statement about what All Saints is all about. May we all know what All Saints is all about that deeply and that instinctively, and may that participation in the Eucharist and the communion of saints bind us all together as we move through Christ The King’s pastoral transition.

Amen

Mysterious Coyote

Greetings
Dear Coyote.
You seem awfully quiet.
If I didn't know better,
I'd think you were sad.

You've been gone for so long,
And now, there you sit,
With your back to me.
What are you looking at?

You have something in your mouth.
Is it me?

Interesting Christian Music

Check out Sufjan Stevens at:

http://www.kcrw.com/cgi-bin/db/kcrw.pl?tmplt_type=spec&tmplt_name=find_results&p
ast_shows=all&radiodate=button_fixed&any_text=sufjan%7Cstevens&sort_order=AirDat
e&order_type=ReverseOrder&show_code=mb

A remarkable musician.

Could It Be Me?

Here's a fun quiz: http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=43870

You scored as Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan.

You are an evangelical in the Wesleyan tradition. You believe that God's grace enables you to choose to believe in him, even though you yourself are totally depraved. The gift of the Holy Spirit gives you assurance of your salvation, and he also enables you to live the life of obedience to which God has called us. You are influenced heavly by John Wesley and the Methodists.

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan
89%
Emergent/Postmodern
79%
Roman Catholic
71%
Neo orthodox
68%
Charismatic/Pentecostal
57%
Classical Liberal
46%
Fundamentalist
39%
Reformed Evangelical
29%
Modern Liberal
21%

What Might have Been

If you like Civil War stuff, be sure to read "Gettysburg", "Grant Comes East", and "Never Call Retreat" by, of all people, Newt Gingrich. Good stuff. It all begins with Lee winning the battle of Gettysburg, and concludes with the end of the Civil War in the fall of 1863 instead of 1865. These books really get you to thinking about what might have been.

Fate, Destiny, and Dancing With The Garth

Looking back on the memory of
The dance we shared beneath the stars above
For a moment all the world was right
How could I have known you'd ever say goodbye

And now, I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance, I could have missed the pain,
But I'd of had to miss the dance

Holding you I held everything
For a moment wasn't I the king,
But if I'd only known how the king would fall,
Hey who's to say, you know I might have changed it all

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go,
Our lives are better left to chance, I could have missed the pain,
But I'd of had to miss the dance

Yes my life is better left to chance
I could have missed the pain, but I'd of had to miss the dance

A Theology Of Nature

What if we made one simple change in the way we think about nature. What if we viewed nature as a subject, and not an object. I am not sure, but I think that one small change would completely reshape the way we approach the earth, science, other species, and one another.