Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Grief, Acceptance, and Psalm 13

How long, O Lord?  --Psalm 13:1

This is the question I keep hearing in my head.  How long will we be stuck in this COVID-19 holding pattern?  How long until things get back to normal?  Will things get back to normal?  In some ways, yes, and in other ways, no.  In our various responses, it occurred to me today that we're seeing in ourselves and our leaders the stages of grief.

We started out with lots of denial.  It's not going to be so bad.  I'll be ok because I'm young, healthy, living in a rural area etc.  We keep circling back to this.  It's not as bad as we thought it would be.  It's not going to last that long.  It's not as big a deal as it seems.

We have anger.  We have sadness.  Both are stages of grief.  So is bargaining.  We're doing that, too.  If we work hard enough at washing our hands....  If we do really well at staying home... If we do enough good deeds... then will it go away?  These are all good things to be doing and they will help, but they're also a part of our processing the losses we're experiencing.  Loss of life.  Loss of connection. Loss of security.  Everything is changing, and change is loss.

We're also seeing acceptance, and if grief happened in a nice, linear progression, this would be the end of it, but it doesn't work that way.  We keep circling back.  Plus, our losses aren't a once-and-done deal.  Every day something changes. The death toll grows.  The stock market drops.  Companies shut down.  More stay-home orders issued.  New losses keep happening, sending us back around the grief circle again.

For me, recognizing that these are normal feelings helps.  Talking to people and finding that they are experiencing similar feelings helps.  Talking to God helps. Reading the psalms and their laments and praise helps.  Remembering that grieving makes us tired helps.

Acknowledging, like the writer of Psalm 13, that in the midst of all the swirling uncertainties it feels like God is far away, helps.

How long will you look the other way?
How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul,
    with sorrow in my heart every day?
--Psalm 13:1b-2a

It helps because it's real.  The alternative is pretense and, let's be honest, lies.  Saying I'm ok, or that this is ok, when it's really not ok, is a lie, and I'm just fooling myself and shutting out God.

God, I'm not as ok as I'd like to be. We're not as ok as we'd like to be. But because I know you love me and you are good, I'm trusting in you.

Acceptance for today.  And, lest I forget, my star word for 2020.
Thanks, God.

But I trust in your unfailing love.
    I will rejoice because you have rescued me.
 I will sing to the Lord
    because he is good to me.
--Psalm 13:5-6

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Easter Earthquake - Shaking the Powers

This is a sermon that was preached on Sunday, February 18, 2018 (the first Sunday in Lent) at United Presbyterian Church in Sterling, KS.  Listen to the audio here.

Read Matthew 27:62-66 & Psalm 25:1-7 here.

--
Many of you know that I grew up in California, which means I grew up with earthquakes. Even though I haven’t lived in earthquake country since 2005, I still live in some ways like I learned to there.  For instance,
·      I don’t have anything hanging on the wall over my bed. 
·      I am careful how I stack things in cupboards and on shelves. 
When you live in earthquake country you live with the expectation that shaking can start at any minute, and in an instant everything can change.  And so you plan accordingly.  Buildings are built differently.  Knick knacks are anchored to shelves with putty.  Because even though you don’t know exactly when earthquakes will happen, you know that they will happen.
Figure 1 Probability of earthquakes
Earthquakes are also common in Palestine, which may be why Matthew is the only gospel writer to tell us about them – the one that happened when Jesus died on the cross, and the other that happened when he was resurrected.[1],[2]  There’s a major fault line that goes right along the Jordan River, up through the middle of the Dead Sea and the Sea of Galilee, because it’s the edge of a tectonic plate.  Earthquakes are so common in Israel[3] that they just spent almost $10 million to upgrade their earthquake detection and warning system.[4]
If you live where earthquakes are common, you plan accordingly, just like we plan here to be prepared for cold weather and tornadoes.
The expectation of earthquakes and cold weather and tornadoes changes how we live.  How does the resurrection change how we live?
Nobody expected it, but they should have. Jesus had told his disciples several times that he would die and then three days later rise again. ( mt 16:21; 17:23; 20:19, 27:60) When the Pharisees asked Jesus for a sign, he told them that their sign would be Jonah.
“ Jonah spent three days and three nights in the belly of a great fish, as the Son of Man will spend three days and three nights in the belly of the earth.” (Matthew 12:40 The Voice)
The Pharisees remembered this, and in today’s reading they ask Pilate to seal the tomb where Jesus is buried and post a guard – not because they believe the resurrection will happen, but because they want to make certain nobody tries to make it look like it happened.  Ironically, in doing so, they also ensure that when it does happen, we have additional evidence because of the seal and the guard.[5]
Posting guards to watch a dead man is kind of like something we probably have all done – asking somebody to watch our stuff.  Someone will say, “Watch my bag while I go to the bathroom.”  And I’ll say, “Why?  Is it going to do tricks?” 
No, of course not, it’s an inanimate object.  We don’t really expect an inanimate object to do anything.
Expecting an inanimate object to move or a dead man to rise both sound like an exercise in futility.  How in our lives are we doing like Pilate did and doing things that are futile?  Why are they futile?  Because the resurrection changes everything.
We sometimes live as if the resurrection didn’t happen, and death is the end. We pray but so often we don’t really expect God to do anything.  Maybe Paul realized our tendency to live this way when he wrote his prayer to the Ephesians:
I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, 18 so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, 19 and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. 20 God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead. (Eph 1:17-20)
The immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe…. resurrection power.  Nothing, not even death, can separate us from the power of God’s love (Romans 8:38). When we pray we are asking God to bring that resurrection power into the situations and people for whom we’re praying.
Resurrection changes everything.  Resurrection shakes our assumptions about the world, about life, and about death.[6]  Resurrection changes our past, present and future.
Resurrection changes the past
·      Releases the tension
Most earthquakes happen along the fault lines that exist on the edges of the earth’s tectonic plates.  Those plates are not fixed and static.  They are moving.  Tension builds up along those fault lines.  For example, in California, the Pacific plate is slowly drifting north, while the North American plate is drifting south at a rate of about 1” per year.[7]  Tension builds up where these plates are sliding against each other, much of it along the San Andreas fault.
When something happens, and people are trying to figure out what happened, they’ll ask, “Who’s fault is it?”  And of course the answer is, “It’s San Andreas’ fault.”
Sorry.  California joke.  Anyway, earthquakes happen when the tension is released.  Similarly, our lives build up tension when we are hanging on to things – guilt and hurts from our past.  But we don’t have to. The resurrection shows us that because of our faith in Jesus, death and sin don’t have power over us anymore.  Jesus conquered sin and death.
Romans 6:6 (The Voice) We know this: whatever we used to be with our old sinful ways has been nailed to His cross. So our entire record of sin has been canceled, and we no longer have to bow down to sin’s power.
Living in the resurrection’s power means we let go of the baggage of our past, let go of our guilt and shame, and accept the forgiveness and new life that Jesus offers us.
Paul Laurence Dunbar[8] was one of the first influential African-American poets. His home in Dayton, Ohio is open to the public. He died young – he was only 33. When Dunbar died, his mother left his room exactly as it was on the day of his death. At the desk of this brilliant man was his final poem, handwritten on a pad.
After his mother died, her friends discovered that Paul Laurence Dunbar's last poem had been lost forever. Because his mother had made his room into a shrine and not moved anything, the sunlight had bleached the ink in which the poem was written until it was invisible. The poem was gone.[9]
It would have been wonderful to have shared that poem, but in trying to hold on to the past, it was lost.
If we make our faith a shrine, it fades and no one benefits.  But if we share it, it lives on, and we find that….
Resurrection changes the present
We know that it’s hard to change old habits, and so during Lent we give up a bad habit or try out a new discipline.  Sometimes we get to thinking that we need to do this, that we need to do something difficult, to punish ourselves, to do something that makes us suffer because Jesus suffered.
But we attempt hard things during lent not because Jesus endured death on a cross, but because he overcame it and was resurrected.  Whatever we decide to do during Lent ought to be something we truly want to change, something we attempt because we trust in God’s power to resurrect us, to change us, and to make us new.
·     “anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!” (2 Cor 5:17)
Resurrection power is at work in our present, even we can’t see it.  As we work on trusting, this can be our prayer from Psalm 25 (1-2, 4-5):
To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul. 2 O my God, in you I trust
Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.
5 Lead me in your truth, and teach me,
    for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long.
We wait on God and keep on walking forward in the present, knowing that …
Resurrection changes the future
Even when things look bleak now, we know that God’s resurrecting work continues, and we keep on praying and seeking God’s guidance because we DO know that God changes things, and even if we don’t know what exactly to do right now, we trust that God will show us what to do, and point us to opportunities to help others know God’s resurrecting love.
We grow impatient like the prophets did and cry out to God to do something NOW.
·      Isaiah 64:1 Lord, rend the heavens and come down. 
God doesn’t act in the timing we would like, but if we believe in the power of the resurrection, we are believing that God does and is acting, and will keep on working through willing hearts and hands.
I read this week about a teacher who is making a difference in a surprising way. She knows that loneliness is a major factor in determining which kids become bullies or are victims of bullying. 
“Every Friday afternoon, she asks her students to take out a piece of paper and write down the names of four children with whom they’d like to sit the following week. She also asks the students to nominate one student who they believe has been an exceptional classroom citizen that week. All ballots are privately submitted to her.
And every single Friday afternoon, after the students go home, she takes out those slips of paper, places them in front of her, and studies them. She looks for patterns.
Who is not getting requested by anyone else?
Who can’t think of anyone to request?
Who never gets noticed enough to be nominated?
Who had a million friends last week and none this week?
[This] teacher is not looking for a new seating chart or “exceptional citizens.” [She] is looking for lonely children. She’s looking for children who are struggling to connect with other children. She’s identifying the little ones who are falling through the cracks of the class’s social life. She is discovering whose gifts are going unnoticed by their peers. And she’s pinning down—right away—who’s being bullied and who is doing the bullying.[10]
This teacher is looking for ways to make things better for the kids in her classroom.  Reading her story made me wonder who I might be overlooking in the places I go.  We pay more attention to the people who we know, the people who engage us and connect with us, the outgoing and gregarious people, and in the process we may be unwittingly ignoring those who are suffering in silence, those who most need to know that resurrection changes everything.
There was a little boy named Philip who was born with Down's syndrome. He attended a third-grade Sunday School class with several eight-year-old boys and girls. Typical of that age, the children did not readily accept Philip with his differences, ... But because of a creative teacher, they began to care about Philip and accept him as part of the group on the surface. 
The Sunday after Easter the teacher brought L'eggs pantyhose containers, the kind that look like large eggs. Some of you may remember those.  They stopped making them in 1991.  Each child was given one, and told to go outside on that lovely spring day, find some symbol for new life, and put it in the egg-like container. After running around the church property in wild confusion, the students returned to the classroom and placed the containers on the table. Surrounded by the children, the teacher began to open them one by one. After each one, whether a flower, butterfly, or leaf, the class would ooh and ahh. 
Then one was opened, revealing nothing inside. The children exclaimed, “That's stupid. That's not fair. Somebody didn't do their assignment." 
Philip, the boy with Down syndrome, spoke up, "That's mine." 
"Philip, you don't ever do things right!" one student retorted. "There's nothing there!"  
"I did so do it," Philip insisted. "I did do it. It's empty. the tomb was empty!" 
Silence followed. From then on Philip was fully accepted by the class. He died not long afterward from an infection most children without Down Syndrome would have shrugged off. At the funeral this class of eight-year-olds marched up to the altar not with flowers, but with their Sunday school teacher, each to lay on it an empty pantyhose egg.[11]
Resurrection changes everything.  It changes our expectations and the way we see the world.  Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we know that sin and death do not have the last word.  They do not win.  Love wins.
I really love that this book we’re reading for Lent is called Easter Earthquake,
·      not just because I grew up in earthquake country,
·      and not just because there were earthquakes in the gospel story,
·      but because knowing God’s love has rocked my world, and it is my hope and prayer that everyone would know God’s earth-shaking love. 
·      Everything can change in an instant, but God’s love does not change.
Though the earth gives way and the mountains fall into the sea, the steadfast love of God is ours forever. (Psalm 46)
This season of Lent, let us seek God with all our hearts and ask him to help us take to heart the victory that Christ has already won through the resurrection,
·      to help us let go of our baggage from the past,
·      trust in God’s work in the future,
·      and see our present with resurrection eyes,
·      watching for opportunities to be the hope and victory of the resurrection in the lives of those around us,
·      that all might know God’s amazing, life-changing love.




[1] Mathew 27:54, Matthew 28:2
[5] Michael Wilkins, NIV Application Commentary: Matthew (Zondervan), pg. 915.
[6] James A. Harnish, Easter Earthquake: How Resurrection Shakes our World (Upper Room Books, 2017) pgs. 11-12.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Anchors & Kite Tails


I recently learned from an episode of “How It’s Made” that it takes a really huge anchor to hold a really huge boat, otherwise the boat keeps moving and just drags the anchor along after it.  I got to thinking today about how people can be like boat anchors, because if someone is digging in their heels about an issue, they can be like an anchor that is too small for the boat it’s trying to moor.

I realize that the Bible says that hope in Christ is like an anchor for the soul (Hebrews 6:19), but I think sometimes we get caught up in trying to tie more things down than we really need to.  I have always loved Gamaliel’s words in Acts 5, “…if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail.  But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God.”  If we are digging in our heels against something that is from God, we will be like a tremendously under-sized boat anchor being dragged along.  In such a situation, the anchor is causing only minor slowing to the boat, but the anchor itself is getting scratched and bounced around by all the rocks and other things that hang out at the bottom of the sea.

I suppose the most difficult part is figuring out whether or not we have become the anchor pulling against God.  It’s especially hard because sometimes resistance is part of God’s plan—it refines our thoughts and helps us grow stronger.  We are told in the Bible to expect persecution and trouble as we follow Jesus.  We even see the disciples being beaten and put in prison.  But we also see them responding with joy (e.g. Acts 5:41; Philippians 4; et al).  Similarly, Isaiah tells us that, “those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”  The idea of soaring like eagles reminds me of an analogy that my husband uses to describe our relationship—he says that I am the tail to his kite.  That’s sort of like an anchor, except instead of making the kite stop altogether like a boat anchor does, the tail provides balance to the flight of the kite.  They work together as they fly—but the point is that they DO fly.

So how do we tell whether we’re the anchor or the kite tail?  It takes the wisdom of Solomon. When he asked God for wisdom, he literally asked God to “give me a heart that listens” (1 Kings 3:9 GWT).  We too gain wisdom by listening—to God, and to people.  In the cacophony of voices it can be hard to sort out which ones are worth listening to.  Maybe that’s another reason we become boat anchors—it’s easier than having to decide who to listen to.  So maybe we just listen to God.  That’s a great start.  Let’s ask him to give us listening hearts—and to help us to hear his voice and to know when to dig in and when to fly.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

It's All Over But the Shouting

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland. (Isaiah 43:19)

This verse has been in my email signature for quite some time because I like the freshness and hopefulness that resonate in it.  But today, thinking about some difficult things that have happened in our family, and also thinking about the difficult events in Jesus’ life that we’ll be remembering in our worship services over the coming week, this verse takes on a different flavor.  And it’s a good reminder for me that indeed God is always doing new things, and we can trust that in the long run these new things are good, but they are not necessarily easy.  In fact, sometimes they’re really hard and painful.  And naturally we like to avoid pain, and we fight against it.  Sometimes by fighting it we can push it away, or postpone it.  But if God is in it, it won’t go away forever.

So today this verse got me to thinking about things I have been fighting against.  Change is on the horizon and although I like change, I don’t like some of the ramifications of change.  The funny thing is that I didn’t realize how much I’d been fighting.  “Fighting” sounds so active that you’d think it’d be hard to miss, but with me it’s been subtle and I didn’t catch on.  I don’t know if awareness makes it any easier, but at least I can understand it more and maybe talk about it some…with those involved and with God.

I heard the passion story again today in a new way watching this video about Good Friday.  As I was watching, I thought of this verse from Isaiah.  God was doing a new thing through Jesus but it was not a pretty thing like the new buds on the trees or the new grass coming up for Spring.  It was an awful, painful thing.  But it needed to happen to fully accomplish our reconciliation with God.  And the reality is that in life some things are like that.

Are you fighting against something new that God is doing in your life, too?

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Quiet Time, Showers and Blindness

There is a sort of conventional wisdom that says profound thoughts come from sitting on the toilet. The sitcom “Scrubs” pokes fun at this in an episode in which the janitor installs an “epiphany toilet” on the roof of the hospital: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmn1ts_AIhA . But, for me, the best place for profound thinking is the shower. I’m not sure why, although I suspect that is partly because I frequently take a shower right after I finish praying and reading the Bible. So, I suppose, it’s no surprise that today’s shower brought forth this profound comparison: Taking a shower is like daily quiet time.

You may be thinking, “Why on earth would a shower be like quiet time?” Or maybe you’re saying, “Well, of course it is, and why didn’t you think of this sooner?” Just in case you’re one of those thinking more in the why vein, I’ll tell you, and for those of you who think you know, you may be surprised, because here’s my reason: Both of these are something I religiously do daily but which I also tend to want to avoid. There are some obvious aspects to this, and some not so obvious. Sometimes I don’t really feel like I need a shower or my time seeking God, but logic tells me that whether or not I feel needy, there is benefit to doing it anyway and it just plain must be done. Sometimes I just do not want to take the time required for showering or seeking God, because I am anxious to move on to other things. And sometimes I am not looking forward to dealing with unpleasant issues. In the shower, this might be shaving my legs, which is one of those annoying chores that goes with being a woman. In seeking God, this might be confronting some bad behavior I need to change. None of these things stops me from doing what needs to be done, but instead keeps me from getting to it as quickly or with a willing spirit.

It occurs to me that in both cases, sometimes I dread taking a shower or spending God time, not because of the action itself, but because of what comes afterwards. In the case of the shower, this means deciding what to wear, a process I hate. To get around this, I made a deal with myself that rather than spending 30 minutes trying things out and exhibiting my tendency toward extreme indecision, I would put on the first thing I saw or thought of and stop there. It works pretty well most of the time, but I still have a bit of reluctance about it. Similarly, what comes after my quiet time is sometimes the need to put into practice what I have just learned, or to wear what I thought about, in a sense. If I have faced a difficult issue or made a life-changing realization through seeking God, I cannot just walk away as if it never happened, although I’ll be honest, sometimes I try to.

Now to the more obvious comparison: Both showers and God-time make us clean, and frequently in ways we cannot necessarily see. We know that sometimes we cannot tell for ourselves how badly we need to be clean. We cannot always smell ourselves, but on the chance that others might smell what we can’t, we shower. I think prayer and Bible reading work in the same way. We do not always know what God needs to do in us, but we seek him, and then he does his work in us in ways that we cannot always see. He makes us cleaner on the inside, just like the shower gets us clean on the outside.

Ok, in the end, maybe it’s not so profound, but isn’t it a little fun to think about? In case you just said “Yes” or even “Yeah, I guess, maybe,” I’ll tell one more thing I thought about in the shower today: Blindness. When I take a shower, I have to take my glasses off, so I can’t really see much except colors and rough shapes. I find my way because I’m pretty careful to keep everything in its place, but sometimes I have to feel my way around a bit—like when the shampoo and conditioner get switched around or moved, and I have to feel the shape of the bottle to figure out which is which. Or if something falls on the floor, I have to close my eyes to keep the water from getting in and feel around to find whatever fell because I can’t see it. If I could wear my glasses or keep my eyes open, things would be easy to find and the whole process might be quicker, but I can’t and I just have to deal with that. I trust that it’s there somewhere and I keep going until I find it. I think our spiritual life is like this, too, only in a much bigger way because there is so much we can’t see. For instance, we can’t see what’s going on in someone’s mind or heart. Sometimes we think we can, but really we can’t. Nor can we see what’s going to happen next year or tomorrow or even an hour from now. We can predict, and sometimes we do pretty well at that, but we never know for sure because things can all change in an instant. We are walking through life like people without their glasses on and even sometimes with their eyes closed. And because of this sometimes we bump into things and get hurt. But we trust that moving forward brings us closer to God and closer to wherever we need to be, and so we keep going…and going, and going.

Which brings us back to showers and quiet time. Both are vitally important, so we keep doing them. . Ok, maybe not “vitally,” exactly. You will not die if you skip either one…at least not right away…and once in awhile I give myself a day off from one or the other. But I almost always notice the difference when I do, and I would hate to see what I would be like if I went several days without either one. Both my body and my attitudes would start to stink! Not that I don’t have my moments of stinkiness anyway, but I do my best to be preventative as much as I can, and wash daily. It’s the least I can do.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Change

I love this time of year for many reasons, but one reason I particularly like the week after Christmas is that it is a time of change. We have new stuff, we're anticipating a new year, and we're getting rid of the Christmas decorations.

At our house, we always decorate for Christmas right after Thanksgiving. I'm not a Martha Stewart type, so this is the only season for which we radically change our decor. All the usual nic nacs and many of the pictures get put away and replaced with nativity scenes, angels, Santas, holly, garland, and all that stuff. It's a pretty radical transformation, further impacted by the addition of a tree to our already crowded living room. Then, right after Christmas, we take it all down. Sometimes we put everything back the way it was before and sometimes we don't. Either way, it feels fresh and new because it's been different for a whole month.

Making this change to our house is great preparation for the new year. There's something refreshing about newness, whether it's a new furniture arrangement or the prospect of new adventures in the coming year. We hope for something more out of it, in whatever form that might take. We embrace change in a way we might not at other times of the year. We're ready to let God do something new in our lives.