A Thought For The Week Of May 28

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God." (Matthew 5:9) The seventh Beatitude. Peacemaking is hard work.  To try to reconcile those who on the surface would appear to be irreconcilable is risky business at the best of times, because it's easy for the peacemaker to get caught in the crossfire between the combatants. I do wonder what Jesus meant by "peacemakers" though? What kind of peace? And between whom? I suppose there could be a double meaning here. Most obviously we think of those who try to bring peace between warring factions.  God undoubtedly blessed those who brought peace between Egypt and Israel, for example, or those who built friendly relationships between former enemies at any time. But there's probably also (and perhaps primarily) a spiritual meaning to this too. As Christians we are called to be reconcilers - those who try to bring peace between individuals and between people and God. In doing that, we may not face guns, grenades and mortar, but it's still a tough job. But there is great blessing involved in finally seeing someone at peace who had known no peace - regardless of what type of peace we're talking about. Remember that God "gave us the ministry of reconciliation." It's a hard calling, but the rewards - and the blessings - are priceless! Have a great week!

May 27, 2012 sermon - The Sounds Of The Spirit

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will. (Romans 8:22-27)

     “Sound is a mechanical wave that is an oscillation of pressure transmitted through a solid, liquid, or gas, composed of frequencies within the range of hearing and of a level sufficiently strong to be heard, or the sensation stimulated in organs of hearing by such vibrations.” So there you have it. Technically correct, but … I don’t really think that definition quite captures what we mean by sound. Sure, I understand that there’s a physical component to sound that can be captured in that type of technical language. But it still isn’t sound. It’s like describing a dog as a four legged animal. That doesn’t capture the feeling you have for the dog! And like dogs, sounds are about the feelings that they produce in you. Some of them are pleasant. Depending on your musical tastes, you might be moved by listening to a Bach concerto or the punk rock group “The Devil Dogs.” But whatever your tastes run to, either can be a moving experience. We listen to birds singing in the morning. Last weekend in Buckhorn, I listened to the call of loons across the lake at night as well as to the crackling of a bonfire and the laughter and chatter of children. All of which were wonderful. But then there’s also the sound of the construction that starts next door bang on 8 o’clock in the morning on the day you expected to sleep in, or the screeching of tires that makes you flinch at what might follow, or the wailing of a siren that startles you, or the wonderful sound of fingernails on a chalk board - a sound that makes me shiver a bit just to think about it! Sounds touch us both physically and emotionally, no matter how old or young we are. Sounds mean something. A little girl named Shaina wrote this poem in Grade 2:

Have you seen the sound of dark, mean thunder?

Or maybe the sound of solid, crystal wind.

Have you seen the sound of beautiful, sweet voices?

Or maybe the sound of leaves, carefully falling to the ground.

Have you seen the sounds?

If you haven't, 

This is what they look like.

If you look close to where the sounds are coming from

Little tiny, diamond - shaped crystals float away from the sound.

They look beautiful in the dark sky,

Rolling away from you.

Down the hill

They become...

Invisible.

     Shaina captures the idea of sound so much better than that technical definition I offered to open - wouldn’t you agree? Let me ask you: have you ever seensound? Maybe I have. I’m not sure. But I’ve experienced sound, and right from the beginning of creation, God understood just how important sounds were going to be, which is surely why we’re told in the Creation story that God created with the sound of a divine voice that spoke everything into being. Sound was around before we were around. And God still speaks. We believe that. Our sister denomination in the United States - the United Church of Christ - launched an ad campaign a few years ago using as the tagline the words “God is still speaking …” And that’s true. God is most certainly still speaking. - speaking tous and speaking throughus. But do we listen? Do we hear? That’s one reason I wanted to use the You Tube video for the reading of the Pentecost story. It gives a different sound to the reading than someone standing and reciting at a lectern; it reminds us of the power and drama and excitement of Pentecost - the coming of the Holy Spirit. Maybe it reminds us to listen - because two thousand years later God isstill speaking. The question, indeed, is whether we’re listening!

     Maybe we don’t hear because we don’t know what to expect. What would God’s voice sound like anyway? The ancient Hebrews were terrified by the sound of God’s voice at Mt. Sinai and begged never to hear it again! I remember an episode of the old TV series “WKRP in Cincinnati.” Dr. Johnny Fever thought that he had heard the voice of God telling him to give up his gig as a radio disc jockey and instead become a golf pro. He talked to Mr. Carlson about the experience, because Mr. Carlson was one of the few people he knew who went to church. Mr. Carlson told him that God probably hadn’t said that because “if God wanted to speak to you you’d know what He said!” I don’t think so. Mr. Carlson was wrong. Many of us spend much of our lives working on discernment - trying to discern just what exactly it is that God is saying to us. It isn’talways that clear. Or there’s the story of Elijah, who expected to hear the voice of God in an earthquake or in a mighty fire, but who was surprised to discover that God’s voice didn’t speak through either of those mighty and terrifying events but only revealed itself through a gentle, quiet whisper. How easy it is to drown out an gentle, quiet whisper? How easy it is to let other sounds drown out the sound of God?

     Two weeks ago I became interested in God’s voice - or in the sounds of the Spirit, if you will. If you recall, I preached on the story of Hannah - poor, tormented Hannah, abused and bullied, with nowhere to turn, who went into the temple and in great torment prayed her heart out - except that the sound was one of complete silence. I wonder if that wasn’t actually the Spirit of God speaking through her? We have enough evidence in Scripture to justify the belief that maybe the times when we have no words are the times when the Spirit is speaking most powerfully! Hannah prayed in silence, her lips moving but no sounds emerging, only to be accused of being pitifully drunk. But I wonder if the sound of silence wasn’t exactly the sound of the Holy Spirit, Who knew that at that moment and in those circumstances, what Hannah needed most was quiet respite? I wonder if just sitting and praying and moving your lips but making no sound isn’t a way of inviting the Holy Spirit to give you the peace and comfort you so desperately need? If you remember it worked for Hannah. Her spirits were immediately lifted. Silence isa golden sound sometimes. Quakers worship in silence. Did you know that. They gather together and they sit. No music. No singing. No sermon. No prayers. They sit. And they listen in the silence for the sound of God’s voice. And the silence is only broken if someone believes they’ve heard the sound of God’s voice and they want to share what they’ve heard. And sometimes the silence is never broken, and there’s just a moment when everyone understands that worship is over - and they leave, refreshed by the experience of listening. We, on the other hand, get uncomfortable with 30 seconds of silent prayer in the middle of an otherwise very verbal worship service. The Spirit speaks and the Spirit comforts in silence.

     It wasn’t silent, though, on Pentecost. There was a sound like the rushing of a violent wind. You know what that sounds like. We have wonderful wind storms here in Port Colborne sometimes, don’t we. Do you ever listen to the wind howling and wonder what you’re going to discover when it’s over? The one thing we know is that something will be changed. Trees might be uprooted, shingles might be blown off your roof. It can be frightening and destructive. It can also be creative and beautiful. The desert is an ever changing landscape of sand dunes sculpted by the wind that blows uncontrollably across it. When the Spirit sounds like wind, we’re being changed; the Spirit is getting our attention. That’s the work of transformation from what we are into what God wants us to be. It’s not an easy process. It’s not necessarily painless - emotionally or physically. Unlike the sound of silence, it’s not comforting; it can actually be shattering - at least at first. When the Spirit comes like the rushing of a violent wind we don’t know what to expect. We just wait to survey the landscape once the Spirit stops speaking!

     On Pentecost, the sound of the Spirit was also the sound of the disciples of Jesus suddenly breaking into the sounds of languages from around the Empire, even though they hadn’t learned the languages! What do we make of that? How is it even possible? How can you speak a language you don’t know? I don’t know of anyone who’s actually been able to explain this in a satisfactory way. The story stands there - unexplained, mysterious, amazing to all who heard it and bewildering to those of us who read it centuries later. And again, the same words that were expressed to Hannah in the temple - “they’re drunk.” But somehow, what was happening to those who listened, was that barriers were being broken down. Language and race and nationality didn’t matter anymore. The gospel was there for everyone; Christ had come for the world; His disciples had come with a message to all humanity. There could be - or at least there should be - no place for any feelings of superiority in the thinking of a Christian; the Kingdom of God was for all and was to be denied to none. Parthians and Medes and Elamites; Jews and Greeks and Romans; people from all parts of the Empire welcome to hear and be touched by the word of God. Canadians and Americans and Iraqis and Afghans. Europeans and Asians and Africans; people from all parts of the world welcome to hear and be touched by the word of God. Available to all; withheld from none.

     And then Paul says, in today’s reading from Romans, that “we do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” Paul is probably talking here about that mysterious phenomenon most commonly associated with Pentecostal churches called “the gift of tongues.” But it’s not only for Pentecostals. I know United Church folk (good, solid, respectable United Church folk) who speak in tongues. Many people call it a personal prayer language. It sounds like babble; it makes no sense; it’s not a language - as we know it, anyway. It’s - well - sounds. Sounds that come deep from within and yet also far from above - the “groans” of the Spirit, reaching out to us when we just don’t know how or what to pray. Have you ever been in that situation? You know you should pray; you know you have things to pray for; but you just can’t find the words. Those are the situations Paul is talking about. Be open to the Holy Spirit and let the Holy Spirit speak through you. It doesn’t matter if you understand the sounds. It doesn’t matter if anyone else understands the sounds. It doesn’t even matter if someone looks at you and says that you’re drunk or crazy. They said the same things about Hannah and the disciples of Jesus. It doesn’t matter, because at that moment you’re communing with God. The Holy Spirit is interceding for you “with groans that words cannot express.” God never leaves us helpless. God even helps us to pray!

     Sounds are all around us. They fill our lives. If they’re not there - we notice it! But there’s one sound above all others that we need to listen for and hear and experience and be touched by. The sound of God’s Spirit, speaking tous and speaking throughus, pointing us and others to the Christ Who loves us and gave Himself for us.

A Thought For The Week Of May 21

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God." (Matthew 5:8) The sixth Beatitude. The Old Testament tells us that if we actually see God, we'll die. That's in Exodus 33:20. I suppose it has to do with the impossibility of mortal humans actually seeing an eternal and holy God. But Jesus says that the pure of heart will see God. Did he just mean after we die? I think he means that living a pure life (one that follows the great commandments to love God and neighbour) does in a way bring us face to face with God. After all, to love God means that we'll be moved to love those in need, and to love those in need brings us face to face with Jesus - "whatever you do for one of the least of these you do for me." To be pure in heart isn't as hard as it seems. It means to let go of the things that can close us to love and serve others, to replace selfishness with selflessness and to do it all not for our own credit, but for God's glory. That's all it takes. Then, we too will be able to see God! Have a great week!

I've Been Thinking About Blessings

My newspaper column of May 17, 2012 in the In Port News

     I don’t think we really understand the concept of “blessings” or “being blessed” today, and the end result of that misunderstanding is that there are a lot of people who walk through life thinking that they’ve never been blessed; more than a few, perhaps, who feel as if they’ve been cursed. Over the last few weeks I’ve been working my way through some reflections on what are known as The Beatitudes – that portion of the Sermon on the Mount in which Jesus pronounces blessings on a variety of people. What’s truly shocking is to see exactly who it is that Jesus declared blessed. They’re the poor in spirit, they’re those who mourn, they’re the persecuted. To those seeming unfortunates – and more – Jesus says “Blessed are those …” But why those people? Many in the modern world would look at those in such conditions and think of them as anything but blessed, and when we face such things we don’t feel ourselves blessed. So what does Jesus mean?

     One of the problems is that we’ve started to equate “blessedness” with “happiness.” In fact, one popular translation of the Bible (the Good News Bible) translates the Beatitudes not as “Blessed are those …” but as “Happy are those …” That’s a problem, because blessedness and happiness are not the same thing. Happiness is merely an emotion. It comes from within us. It’s what we feel when things are going well in our lives and many good things are happening. It’s something we generate for ourselves. It doesn’t even have to be big things. If happiness is all Jesus meant in the Sermon on the Mount then He might as well have said, “Happy are those who are eating ice cream.” It would make more sense than “Happy are those who mourn.” I’ve mourned. It’s not a happy time. I was anything but happy when I was in mourning. That’s the problem with thinking of blessedness as happiness. Happiness is just temporary; it’s totally dependent on your circumstances at any given time. People being persecuted are not happy people. People at picnics are happy people. Let’s understand the difference.

     Blessedness is not something that we generate for ourselves. Blessedness is something that’s given to us. Who gives it? In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus pronounces a state of blessedness upon the most unexpected people, which means that blessedness is a little bit like grace – it comes from God, even to those who seem to be the least likely to receive it. Blessedness is offered to us by God no matter what our circumstances are. Blessedness in fact comes to those who may be the most desperate, unfortunate, poverty-stricken (spiritually or otherwise) people in the world – because God offers His blessing most powerfully to those who need it the most.

     It isn’t happiness. You can be both sad and blessed at the same time, or you can be entirely happy but bereft of blessings. Happiness is human; blessedness is divine. Blessedness, in fact (at least if we take Jesus seriously in the Sermon on the Mount) seems to come most powerfully and most directly to those who might be the least happy.

     So if life doesn’t seem to be treating you fairly right now, if you’re down in the dumps, if everything seems to be falling apart around you, and if you feel as if you have no place to turn – it isn’t so. There’s one place you can turn without any hesitation – and that’s to Jesus. Let Him pronounce a blessing over you. Let Him give you peace rather than happiness. Happiness is only temporary, but God’s blessings will last for an eternity. Perhaps that’s what Jesus meant when He said “I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

A Thought For The Week Of May 14

"Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy." (Matthew 5:7) The fifth Beatitude, and on the surface perhaps the easiest to understand. Mercy is a fine quality. We'd all agree with that. Mercy is a good thing. It's amazing, though, how difficult it actually is to show mercy. Most straightforwardly, we probably have trouble being merciful because we find ourselves caught up with our own problems. Whatever bad thing is happening to us right now is the worst thing that could possibly be happening! That's an understandable reaction, because if it's happening to "me" then it's very direct and in my face. It blinds me to the needs of others. I start to think I'm in need of mercy, not that I should be offering it. But there's another problem too. The growing (at least that's my perception) "blame the victim" mentality. We probably see that directed most obviously toward the poor or those on welfare. To many people, they don't need mercy - they need a good kick in the behind! "Get up and get a job," I hear people say. "We shouldn't make it so easy on these people." "They're not grateful." "My taxes shouldn't support them being lazy." I hear such things a lot. The funny thing is - even though being poor and on welfare is apparently so great, I never hear anyone who says those things also say that they want to be poor or on welfare. Curious. Where's the mercy? Let's find it in our hearts and show some today. Then Jesus can bless us, too! Have a great week!

May 13, 2012 sermon - "The Joy Of Unexpected Answers"

Once when they had finished eating and drinking in Shiloh, Hannah stood up. Now Eli the priest was sitting on a chair by the doorpost of the Lord's temple. In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the Lord. And she made a vow, saying, "O Lord Almighty, if You will only look upon Your servants's misery and remember me, and not forget Your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head." As she kept on praying to the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk and said to her, "How long will you keep on getting drunk? Get rid of your wine." "Not so, my Lord," Hannah replied. "I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief." Eli answered, "Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of Him." She said, "May your servant find favour in your eyes." Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast. Early the next morning they arose and worshiped before the Lord and then went back to their home at Ramah. Elkanah lay with Hannah his wife, and the Lord remembered her. So in the course of time Hannah conceived and gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel, saying, "Because I asked the Lord for him." (1 Samuel 1:9-20)

     This passage is not really about Hannah praying for a son! That was one of the first things that occurred to me when I started to take a close look at this passage. I had it in my mind that this was the point of the passage, and I originally chose this passage for Mother's Day, because – well – Hannah prayed to be a mother and I thought there would be all sorts of heartwarming content and reflections about motherhood in the passage. And then I read it again – and believe me, I wasn't reading it for the first time. I thought I was pretty familiar with this passage. I've read it a lot. We chose this name (“Hannah”) for our daughter – connecting us forever with this woman, because she's the only Hannah in the Bible. As long ago as November 13, 1994 I preached on this passage at the United Churches in South Brook, Hampden and Sop's Arm, Newfoundland. I re-read that sermon a few days ago and, sure enough, although the subject matter was about something else, the sermon seems to presume that the passage is all about Hannah being desperate to have a child. And this past week I discovered that I was wrong. Hannah's prayer in this passage wasn't really for a son. Yes, she asked God to “not forget Your servant but give her a son,” but that isn't really what she's praying for. That's the surface issue. That's the presenting condition, you might say. But to get to the real issue, you have to start to peel back some layers in Hannah's life and when you do that you discover that there's more going on here than simply a woman who wants to have a child. So the first lesson I learned this past week is that even after more than 2000 years and even when you think you've read and studied and preached on a passage long enough to now what it's about, Scripture can still surprise you when you take the time to really work with it! This is a living word that's always at work revealing fresh insights for modern people, not a dead word that just records the events and reflections of the ancients. So, if, in spite of her words, Hannah's not really praying for a son, then what is Hannah praying for and what does her prayer teach us? I've often felt that you learn a lot about people by hearing them pray. You learn their hopes and their dreams; you learn their fears and their disappointments. When we stand before God we can't hide. Things come out. Our souls are bared.

     To peel back the layers of Hannah's life and get to the root cause of her anguish and then take a fresh look at her prayer  we need to know a little more about this woman named Hannah and what her life was like. Hannah was one of two wives of a man named Elkanah. The other wife was Penninah. Penninah had children and Hannah didn't, but interestingly enough the story seems to suggest that it was Penninah who was jealous of Hannah. You see, Penninah may have had the children, but Hannah was the one who really held Elkanah's heart; she was the one he loved more. And because Penninah was jealous, she held the one thing over Hannah that she had - Penninah was cruel to Hannah because (in a society in which having children was seen as the ultimate sign of God's blessing) she had children and Hannah didn't, and so she spent her time rubbing Hannah's nose in that fact, so to speak. The way the story is written (and you have to read the verses right before what we read this morning to see this) I don't get the sense that Hannah was jealous of Penninah. She was simply tormented by her rival. The constant putdowns (in spite of Elkanah's efforts to make Hannah aware of how much he loved her) caused her to question her own worth and her own value. Her life started to seem meaningless. More than that, her life beame a torture because of the hell Penninah was putting her through. It's similar to a child being bullied. No matter how much your parents tell you that they love you, the constant putdowns hurt and eventually they kill the spirit. Finally, in her pain, Hannah turns to God. Here's where the learning begins for those of us who read the story many centuries after the fact.

     When in trouble or distress, turn to God. In fact when we're really in trouble and really in distress, where else is it that we can turn but to God if we want to have real hope of moving on. I think here of Jesus, who many years later said to His disciples, “Come to Me all you who are tired and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest.” It's only God – revealed to us by Jesus – who can take the loads or lighten our burdens or at least strengthen us enough that we'll be able to carry them ourselves. No one else can do that. Nothing else can do that. Only God. Hannah seemed to understand that. She was tormented and in grief, but rather than turning away from God, as so many are tempted to do in dark times she turned toward God. She didn't give up on God. She had faith – she turned to God in spite of the temptation to believe that God had let her down and didn't care.

     Faith she may have had, but the story suggests that this was no pious prayer. “In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the Lord.” She prayed from deep within her soul. Strangely enough and wonderfully enough, the passage once again surprised me. I may be quite familiar with this passage but for the first time as I read it I was reminded of the story of Pentecost. The Book of Acts tells us that on Pentecost the people thought the disciples of Jesus were drunk because they were speaking in tongues, and in this passage Eli the priest thinks that Hannah is drunk because he can't understand what she's saying. I wonder: when we come to God “in bitterness of soul” or in great anguish or – at the opposite extreme – in heights of joy and immeasurable bliss (when our prayers are passionate and from the heart rather than mere dutiful words directed heavenward) - is there something so wonderful about being "in the spirit" in that way (being so totally focused on prayer and on one's relationship with God) that others simply can't understand it or make sense of it and so they immediately dismiss it as unreal? But what we see here is that Hannah's words weren't important - in fact, the text suggests that she may not even have been speaking. So prayer is not about pious outward religious observance; prayer is about quietly but passionately opening ourselves to God and letting God fill us. And she wasn't embarrassed to be praying this way and she wasn't going to apologize for it. “Eli thought she was drunk and said to her, 'How long will you keep on getting drunk? Get rid of your wine.' 'Not so, my Lord,' Hannah replied. 'I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.'” She defended herself, just as the apostles in Acts insisted to the poeple “we are not drunk as you suppose.” She was talking to God – and no one and nothing was going to get in the way!

     And the result was that her burden was lifted from her. “Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast. Early the next morning they arose and worshiped before the Lord ...” She was no longer downcast and no longer feeling tormented. - she could stand before God no longer in anguish, but to worship; to offer praise and thanksgiving. Her prayers were no longer mere petitions; they had become expressions of joy and gratitude – not because her prayer had been answered (because Samuel hadn't been born yet) but because her burden had been lifted. God saw the problem far more clearly than she did – and far more clearly than I have for many years. Hannah's problem wasn't that she didn't have a son; Hannah's problem was that she had been put down so much because she didn't have a son that she felt worthless. Hannah needed that burden lifted from her. That's the answer to her prayer. Yes, she eventually had a son, but that came later. What mattered was that she realized that in all her torment God was still with her and had always been with her. It was several hundred years before Jesus would be born, but Hannah would have understood His words - “Come to Me all you who are tired and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest,” because she had experienced their power. She came to God tired and heavy burdened and she went away rested and refreshed.

     All this happened before Hannah even had a son! Her prayers were answered - but not in the way she expected, because neither she nor we saw through to the real issue – at least not right away. Hannah didn't need a son. The birth of Samuel is almost secondary to the story (it's important only because of who Samuel became.) Samuel was a blessing. Let's not mistake that. Not everyone is called to parenthood, but for all those who are called to parenthood, a child is a blessing. We know that. But what Hannah needed wasn't a child, she needed peace in her troubled soul. The real meat of the story is that prayer allowed her to give up her burden and it strengthened her to go back to her home to deal once again with Penninah. She had no promise of a son; she had simply - through prayer - experienced the empowering presence of God - enough to see her through. Everything else was a bonus! Sometimes we find ourselves like Hannah – troubled and burdened and in torment. Hopefully, when those times come, we'll follow Hannah's example and we won't turn away from God; instead, we'll turn toward God in prayer. Hopefully, from time to time, our prayers will burst forth in praise and thanksgiving and gratitude. Hopefully, ultimately, our times of prayer will leave us grateful for what we have rather than grasping for what we're lacking. Hopefully.

Challenged To Think About Prayer

Sometimes spiritual challenges come from the most unlikely sources. I'm not big on the whole "Progressive Christian" movement. In fact, "not big" is an understatement. My reasons for feeling that way aren't the issue at the moment. I just don't care for the theology espoused by the movement. But I have to confess that I came across a Progressive Christian line that made me start doing some thinking about prayer. It said something along the lines of "prayer is just a passive aggressive way of telling God we think He's lazy." Hmmm.

"Passive-aggressive" basically means to show aggression in indirect ways; to hide aggression behind a thin veneer of non-aggression. Some believe it's a personality disorder. Others - such as Marxists - believe it's a rational response to a situation in which direct and active resistance for one reason or another is impossible. I'm no psychologist, but I suspect that it could be either, depending on the circumstances, although I've seen the Marxist concept differentiated and referred to not as passive-aggressive but as passive-resistant. The term "passive-aggressive" was apparently coined by the US military to describe soldiers who made clear their unhappiness at obeying certain orders even as they obeyed them to the letter. So, how does prayer fit in?

One thing I have noted with some people is that prayers can sometimes resemble little more than a shopping list. "God, I want this and this and this and this. Give it to me. Now. Amen." I can see how that might fit the definition of passive-aggressive. The fact that all a person is doing is asking God for things is an expression of dissatisfaction, but clearly someone who believes in God can't actively do anything about it, so they hide their dissatisfaction and anger behind a seemingly pious life of prayer. They pray a lot. They look faithful and committed, but really behind the veneer of piousness is a lot of anger at God for not doing things the way they think things should be done. It's a little bit like the spouse who constantly says to his or her partner "I love you dearly - now change." And I know more than a few people who didn't really marry the person they loved - they married the person who was available on the assumption that given enough time they could force that person to become the person they love. Some people's prayers seem like that. There's even a biblical basis for it, I suppose. Abraham bargaining with God for the people of Sodom; Moses doing the same for the Hebrews. Both are upset that God is going to do something that they see as un-Godlike, but rather than openly expressing their anger, they have "holy" conversations now considered Scripture. So maybe it's not passive-aggressive; maybe it's passive-resistant? You assume you can't beat God, so you find less direct ways of telling God "You're wrong." Maybe Marx was on the ball here. To be perfectly honest, though, I kind of prefer the example of Job, who didn't hide behind a veneer but who let God know bluntly that he was angry, or Paul - who pleaded with God to take away his thorn in the flesh, or - of course - Jesus, who pleaded "Father, take this cup from me." They laid it on the line, but in the end they accepted whatever God's will was. In the end, what real choice do we have? It's just a matter of how we react to God's will, especially when that divine will seems to affect us very directly and personally.

Of course, we're all going to have petitions to bring to God in prayer, and sometimes we're going to come to God at times when we're really not happy with what God seems to be doing. Maybe even there will be times when we think we could do a better job. We're human after all! And prayer probably shouldn't just be a big cosmic cuddle time. If there's something we desperately need, we're probably going to ask for it. Even if it's something we just want really badly we might ask for it. But rather than just asking - maybe we should be honest with God about how we're feeling (especially since God knows anyway!) So if we're hurting, we should express it. And if we're angry we should let it out. Because God can take it - and it's in the resolution of these things that we finally gain what we really should be looking for through prayer - which is an abiding and life-affirming relationship with God.

Paul - after all his struggles with God and with himself and with his opponents and with the churches he loved that could frustrate him so much - could still eventually write "I have learned to be content." Contentedness is the opposite of passive-aggressive, I think. If we're content we can express all our feelings and wants and needs to God, but at the same time still be thankful toward God - because, while it would always be nice to have "more," what we do have comes from God. Ultimately I think that's what prayer does. If we pray sincerely, from the depths of our souls, we find contentedness; we find relief from turmoil; we find peace.

Maybe the Progressive Christians are right to some extent. Maybe there is an element of passive-aggressiveness in our prayers sometimes. Maybe behind a veneer of piousness we are actually telling God what to do because we don't think God has done it right. But hopefully not all the time. Hopefully, from time to time, our prayers burst forth in praise and thanksgiving and gratitude. Hopefully, ultimately, our times of prayer leave us grateful rather than grasping. Hopefully.

A Thought For The Week Of May 7

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled." (Matthew 5:6) The fourth Beatitude. Many people would run as fast as they can from a word like "righteousness," mainly because so many people are unaware of what it really means. They confuse righteousness with self-righteousness - and who wants to be self-righteous. Let's be honest. Self-righteous people are an irritating pain in the neck. They think they're good - and they let everyone know it! In fact, more than just thinking they're good - they think they're GOOD ENOUGH! And that's the problem. But Jesus didn't offer blessings to the self-righteous. If they think they're good enough, they probably don't much care about getting a blessing anyway. They think they are a blessing! Jesus offered HIS blessings to those who passionately desired righteousness. Righteousness has nothing to do with us - and everything to do with God. Righteousness is a quality we gain when we're made right with God - which we can't bring about by our own efforts; that's God's doing. That's the reconciling ministry of Christ. That's the grace of God in action. A person who's self-righteous doesn't really perceive a need for God, although they might pay lip service to God. But if you truly hunger and thirst for righteousness you'll never be turned away from God. God will fill you. Have a great week!

Michael Coren and Mainline Protestants

In an interview with the National Post, broadcaster Michael Coren was asked the following question, and offered the following answer:


Q: Do Christians in Canada stand up for themselves enough or are they cowed by secular society telling them to keep their religion at home or in the church?
A: First of all, forget mainstream Protestants (Anglican, United Church, etc.). They’re barely Christian anymore, and they’ll accept anything.


As a minister of the United Church, I'm often critical of my own denomination, but  cannot let this go unchallenged. Even if I take the parenthetical addition as an explanatory note by the National Post and not as something Michael Coren actually said, I still think that Michael Coren seems to have forgotten one of the most basic lessons Jesus taught: "do not judge, or you will be judged." 


I always wonder what it is that causes some people to feel the need to condemn others for their faith. Coren doesn't have to like the United Church or any other mainline Protestant church. That's why there's a Roman Catholic Church for him to belong to, or any number of evangelical and charismatic denominations. He's a faithful Roman Catholic, which I respect, and in spite of having some substantive theological disagreements with the Roman Catholic Church, I would never accuse the Roman Catholic Church of not being Christian. Yet Coren reserves the right to make that judgment on others.


I've always felt that if you need to spend your time attacking or being rudely dismissive of those who disagree with you rather than simply celebrating what it is you believe, then you're clearly operating from a position of weakness. Generally, we attack those we feel threatened by. Coren clearly isn't very convinced of what he believes or he wouldn't feel so threatened.


Perhaps he needs to stop focusing on others and start to look inward a bit. Perhaps he needs to confront whatever it is that scares him about we "mainline Protestants" who are "barely Christian." Perhaps he needs to learn a few biblical lessons about humility. Perhaps he needs to remember that Jesus himself told his disciples that there would be a few surprises when they found out who was in or out of the Kingdom.


I suspect Michael Coren has a few disappointments ahead. Since he's clearly claimed for himself the right to play God and to define who is and who isn't a Christian - which, shockingly enough, just happens to mean that everyone who thinks like him IS a Christian, and anyone who disagrees with his ISN'T a Christian -  he may be startled to discover that he's going to be spending eternity with more than a few of those mainline Protestants who are "barely Christian" and who "accept anything."


We do tend to accept a lot, Michael - in fact we'll even accept holier than thou folks such as yourself, who feel that you have a right to do God's work for him.

May 6, 2012 sermon - "The Choice: CON-formed Or TRANS-formed"

"Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God - this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." (Romans 12:1-2)

     For the last couple of weeks, I've been speaking about "life." More specifically, I've been speakng about life as God wants us to live it. A life freed from the things that enslave us and hold us in their bondage. A life in which we're lifted out of the troubles around us and freed to live abundantly as children of God who neither worry about nor fear the future, because we know that God is with us. I want to continue on with that general theme this week, continuing to look at how to truly live life as God wants us to live it. I don't think we should be satisfied with simply waking up every day and having just another day just like all the other days we've had. I don't think we should be satisfied with things the way they are and simply resigned to the idea that things can never be any different. I don't think we should be satisfied with just being followers of Jesus - I think we need to live as disciples of Jesus. To follow is a rather passive activity, but to be a disciple is more active, snd suggests that we're learning from what we're seeing as we follow Jesus, and that we're going to put into practice what we believe Jesus wants of us. That would be a wonderful, blessed and abundant life - but in all honesty it also wouldn't be an easy life. As I searched the Scriptures for an image that I thought might bring forth into our minds what this type of life might be, I was drawn to Paul's description of a disciple of Jesus as a "living sacrifice." There's a lot of imagery connected with those words - some of it challenging, some of it troubling, some of it promising - all of it helpful as we try to discern what it is God seeks from us and the kind of life God calls us to.

          The whole concept of a "living sacrifice" seems to be a contradiction. Perhaps that's not surprising. Paradox is a big thing in the life and ministry of Jesus after all. He tends to turn things upside down; He tends to surprise; people were constantly amazed that He didn't do things the way others did them or the way they expected Him to. But I still find myself struggling with this a bit. A "living sacrifice." "Living." "Living?" In my mind I have to work with that image. Sacrifices are dead! I can't read those words without my mind immediately going back to the Old Testament and the complex system of animal sacrifices that the people of Israel lived with and depended on. Those animals were killed. But, of course, that's only partially true, isn't it? The sacrifice has to be alive until it's actually sacrificed. A dead sacrifice would be meaningless. Nobody ever sacrificed a dead goat or a dead bull in ancient Israel. They needed a live one. So maybe there isn't as much of a paradox there as I thought there was. If we are "sacrifices" of any sort, then surely we have to be "living sacrifices" because if we're not living we're not of much practical use to God. Of course, the biggest difference is that the implication of Paul's words would seem to be that as a "living sacrifice" we'll continue living. The old sacrifices of the old covenant didn't. They died. It was part of the required mechanism for the forgiveness of sin, which isn't necessary any more, of course. Christ did away with that. So "sacrifice" today means something completely different. So, perhaps the issue isn't the tension between the words "living" and "sacrifices." The issue, perhaps, is what kind of sacrifice we are. What does it mean to say that our bodies are “living sacrifices?”  What is the sacrifice of our bodies meant to accomplish? Even more basic - how do we sacrifice our bodies?

     The more I think about what Paul wrote, the more I realize that maybe he means nothing more than that we should be offering ourselves to God by not offering ourselves to the world. A sacrifice is also called an offering. We offer something to God for God's use. We're called to offer the best we have for God's use; the most precious thing we have for the service of God. What's more precious than our very selves? It's easy to sacrifice a bit of money or time or effort. Those sacrifices aren't unimportant. But they only point us to what we're really called to – which is to sacrifice ourselves. Giving something that belongs to us is the symbolic reminder that we're really called to give ourselves; our very being; the best of what makes us who and what we are. Maybe this is about making us what we should be by changing the whole way in which we view life. Maybe this is about formation. God asks us to be “living sacrifices” to remind us that the “things” we sacrifice aren't enough to enable us to enjoy a full and abundantly rich life as a child of God. To do that, we have to give “everything” - as Jesus said to the rich young man who came to Him saying that he had given and done everything God had asked for but still needed to know what he needed to do to have eternal life. You have to give “everything” Jesus said. In essence, He said, “you have to give yourself.” I don't believe Jesus was speaking of martyrdom, and I'm certainly not talking about martyrdom. I'm talking about understanding that everything – up to and including our very lives – belong to God and need to be available for God's service and for God's work. And as much trouble as I might have had at first coming to grips with the seeming paradox of being a “living sacrifice,” Paul actually goes on to explain what he's talking about in very simple terms.

     “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” There's the choice for those who truly want to be disciples of Jesus. You have to be willing to stand out. It isn't a matter of pride. It's not about saying “look at me.” It's not about showing others how good we are or how religious we are. It's about pointing others to God by the simple way in which we live - freed from all those things that others still struggle with and are still held captive by. This choice is how we start to understand what Paul meant by calling us “living sacrifices.” To be conformed is no sacrifice at all. To be conformed is to live as people expect us to live. This means not standing out, accepting the status quo, not making waves. This is passive. It requires no effort; it asks little of us. But to be transformed is different. To be transformed is active. It's perhaps even radical. We're being made into something different; we're running the risk of standing out and being noticed, with all the risks and dangers that implies. If we allow ourselves to be transformed, we may change the world - or at least our little part of it. If we settle for being conformed, then we guarantee that nothing will ever change.

     "Sometimes it's safer to fly under the radar" is an old saying. To CON-form is to do that; to hide our presence; to blend in; to be unchallenging and unchallenged. To TRANS-form is to be gloriously above the radar for all to see. If we're transformed, then there will be no mistaking that we're there; no mistaking who we are and no mistaking whose we are. This means we will both challenge and be challenged! If nobody notices you, you'll probably stay quite safe and secure – but at the risk of the life God wants you to live. If you stand out, then you are automatically “living sacrifices,” because to live a transformed life is an inherently risky and costly business! But it's God's call upon all our lives – and it's the only way to live life as God wants us to live it – freely and richly and abundantly and truly in the service of others!