sermon by Torin Eikler
Galatians 5:19-25 Acts 1:16-17, 21-25
Third Sunday of Passionate Spirituality Series
As most of you know by now, we are in the midst of a series of Sunday worships that are delving into passionate spirituality through the exploration of some of the spiritual practices that have been significant for Christians across the centuries. All of these practices, as I’m sure you will discover, tend to flow together, overlapping in our spiritual lives to the point that it’s hard to truly separate them. And, that’s particularly true of the first two.
Carrie started us off on the topic of “Saying Yes and Saying No” which, for those of you who we missed last week, is all about paying attention to how we use our time. It is a way of carefully picking our commitments so that, on the one hand, we are not crowding God out of our lives, and on the other, we are creating space for God to come into our lives and shape who we are and how we live. In essence, I suppose, it is the practice of choosing for a life that is actively rooted in God rather than a life that is so busy that we hardly notice God speaking to us.
Today, we will be looking at discernment which Frank Rogers Jr. defines as “the intentional practice by which a community or an individual seeks, recognizes, and intentionally takes part in the activity of God in concrete situations.”
I realize that a definition like this doesn’t necessarily clarify things … especially when it’s read out loud and quickly, but I also think that most of us have a sort of gut feeling on what discernment is all about. What it boils down to is that discernment – Christian discernment – is the spiritual practice of seeking out what God wants us to do when we are faced by decisions and then (and this is the part that we rarely make explicit) doing it.
The question at the heart of things is, what do we do when we “come to [that] place where the streets are not marked, and some windows are lighted while others are darked?” Dr. Seuss certainly had it right when he said that there’s no simple answer and that confusion seems to reign supreme. But, the practice of discernment offers us hope because it puts legs on our belief that God is always present, offering guidance and direction in times when we feel lost and alone.
Across the years, various Christian communities have put together a variety of concrete, workable methods for doing discernment. They mirror the many ways in which we make decisions in everyday life ranging from flipping a coin to weighing the pros and cons to consulting with people whose experience and opinion we value. The big difference, though – the thing that makes discernment a decidedly spiritual experience – is that all of these practices put an openness to hearing the voice of God’s Wisdom at the heart of decision-making rather than relying on human logic or ingenuity alone.
Take the story that we just heard from Acts for example. The disciples were faced with the question of who would take up the work that was left behind when Judas died. They did their best brainstorming and came up with two options – Joseph and Matthias. Then, they turned the final decision over to God. They prayed for guidance as to who was the better choice, and they cast lots in the faith that God would show them the way. It’s not a method that most of us would use for discernment today because casting lots just sounds silly to us, yet it’s not all that different from flipping a coin except that the gathered body had spent time in earnest prayer for guidance before hand.
Perhaps if we approached the process from such a faithful, prayerful position, coin tossing wouldn’t be such a bad option. But, I still don’t find the idea too palatable, and I think you all would agree that there are other options that would serve us better or at least give us more confidence in the outcome.
One of those other practices was refined by Ignatius of Loyola and has been regularly practiced by the Jesuit order he founded (and others as well) for centuries. For Ignatius, the process of discernment aimed at enhancing our participation in the work of God for the glory of God and the healing of the world. So, we start by enhancing our passionate commitment to follow God, an attitude of indifference toward all other drives and desires, and a deep sensitivity to the ways and being of God in a period of time set aside for prayer and/or retreat. Then, we do our best to understand as many aspects of the decision before us as possible and clarify the choices available to us – much the same way the disciples did. After that, we leave behind our ambivalence and spend several days living out the reality of the option (or options) that we feel less inclined to choose.
During that time – and this is the difficult part - we prayerfully and honestly reflect on what it is about this particular choice that we don’t like and whether our motivations are rooted in divine guidance or something less desirable. As the test period nears its end, we ask ourselves, “Is this a life-giving decision or is it destructive?” For Ignatius, the answer to that question lies in whether we feel a sense of consolation – meaning are we more joy-filled, loving, creative, and at peace – or a sense of desolation – meaning are we more confused, alienated, despairing, or discordant. This part of the process requires real honest and deep self-awareness because we tend to shy away from the difficult and dark parts of our nature, and it is often easier to deceive ourselves than face the truth…. Like I said, this is the hard part.
Once we have lived into one possibility for a time, we follow the same path with each of the others that we have identified, noting each time whether the choice is life-giving or destructive. Then, we take some time to reflect on and compare the different experiences. Using both our minds and our hearts, we determine which option brought us the most consolation – which option was more life giving. Even then, we are not quite done because as we act on our decision, we need to keep a part of ourselves actively engaged in listening for God’s confirmation that we have made the right choice.
One other way of discernment that I have found particularly helpful fits right in with our Anabaptist heritage of trusting the community for guidance. It also comes out of the story of the early church in the 15th chapter of Acts where the council of leaders met in Jerusalem to discern God’s will concerning the circumcision of gentiles, and it has been formalized in different ways by different Christian communities over the years. I am most familiar with the process used by the Quakers, a process called the clearness committee.
Again, the process begins with a time of prayerful re-orientation to the voice and the will of God. Then, we call together a diverse group of people whose wisdom we trust though they may often have widely different viewpoints on many issues. This group of people gathers for two or three hours and listens as we explain the situation and the decision to be made as well as all the best thinking we have done and the feelings that has raised in us. For a time, the group holds what they have heard in silence. As they feel led by the Spirit and the search for God’s will, they ask questions with the goal of helping us untangle our feelings and reach greater understanding of how the voice of God is speaking to guide us.
After the time together is over, the group leaves. We make our decision on the issue and share that decision with the group. Over time, they check in on how things are going both for accountability – to make sure we are living according to the decision we made – and for reassessment – to help us with the process of confirming that our decision is actually in line with God’s will for us.
As you may now have realized – or may know from experience – one of the great challenges of discernment is that it rarely yields absolute certainty. Another is that it takes time. That’s a hard reality for us to deal with caught up in we are in the gray-ness and busy-ness of life and the desire for something, at least, to be black and white, short and sweet. Often, it feels like we’ve just found our way to the waiting place. Yet, when we take time to make decisions – especially important decisions – in a prayerful attitude of seeking first God’s will and wisdom, our choices are rarely bad, even if they are a little off the mark. And, as we move out of the waiting place – which we must do if we are true to the process – we can trust that not only have we done our best to find the way, we have also moved closer to the Spirit of God and are more likely to notice the divine nudges – big and little – that will help keep us on the right track.
Well, that’s a lot to chew on, and I’m sure that as you sat there listening moments from your lives and decisions that you have made have come to mind. So, I invite you now to take out the journals that were provided at the beginning of the series (if you didn’t get one or forgot yours, there are a few extras back by the entrance to the sanctuary) and take some time to write down your thoughts about your experiences with discernment or your ideas about how you might engage in decision-making as a spiritual discipline in the future. To help you along, there are a few leading questions printed on the insert in your bulletins. There are also summaries of the two methods of discernment that I described today on that insert if you would like to review them.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Saying Yes and Saying No
sermon by Carrie Eikler
Passionate Spirituality Sermon Series
Genesis 1 excerpts
Luke 18:18-22
Story for All Ages: Green Eggs and Ham
(This is the second sermon in our summer sermon series on Passionate Spirituality, inspired by the book Practicing our Faith by Dorothy Bass. Accompanying each sermon is a "Story for All Ages" where we will read a Dr. Suess story that ties with the theme. Shorter sermons lead into greater time of congregational reflection, which are posted below the sermon)
At some point in our lives who has not felt like either Sam-I-am or Grumpy Man (as referred to in our home)? Big questions and big responsibilities come our way and we are either saying no-no-no or encouraging someone else to say yes-yes-yes. Forgive me for an alternate comparison, but often in my life I’m not so much on a Green-eggs-and-ham conundrum, but more the conundrum posed by one of the original British punk rock bands…The Clash. (Yes, I confess. One of your pastors is a fan of British punk). In one of their most popular songs The Clash asked the question “Should I stay or should I go?” followed with an answer “If I stay there will be trouble, if I go there will be double.”
Should I say yes or should I say no? Should I accept or should I decline? Should I add another responsibility or should I let go of a commitment?
I know that many of you struggle with this, because when we surveyed the congregation on which spiritual practices you were most interested in exploring, “saying yes and saying no” was at the top of the list…along with prayer and forgiveness I might add. I have a feeling many of us in our lives have said yes to so many things, that we are looking for permission to say no. I have a feeling that many of us are looking at ways to clear the decks, to begin rebuilding our lives with just those things that are really important--hose things that fill us, that energize us.
Saying yes and saying no to the demands that come our way may not seem like a traditional spiritual practice. But as we talk about passionate spirituality for the next seven weeks, I think we’ll soon realize that each step towards God will be a process of saying yes to making space for God and saying no to those things that crowd God out.
In the words of M. Shawn Copeland, a Catholic laywoman, “If we are to enhance and build up the capacities for a good, wholesome, and holy life, we must learn to say yes to what affirms and renews wholeness and life. And we must learn to say a related no to what induces and brings about destruction and ruin.”[1]
Deep and passionate spirituality is a constant dance of accepting and declining dance partners, weighing and evaluating the music that guides us, and refining and improving our steps. When we learn the deeply difficult and deeply blessed discipline of making space for God to dwell deeply in us, the steps may seem a bit more fluid, more true to who we are, more graceful as we dance in and through this life.
But then, life is a constant balance of yeses and no’s, isn’t it? When you wake up in the morning and get out of bed, you are saying “yes” to meeting the day. When you go to work or school you are essentially saying “yes” to the life of occupation or study. When you eat food you are saying yes to nourishment and essentially saying yes to life.
You could stay in bed, you could stay home from work or school (although if you’re in school, you might have to do a bit of work to convince your parents), you could say no to eating healthy food and no to nourishing your body. Those no’s have consequences. But essentially, your actions are responses to life’s questions an affirmative or negative answer. Each moment you live is a balance, often an unconscious one, of saying yes and no.
But this is not to make it seem like saying no is a bad thing. In fact many times by saying “no” we are opening up space in our lives for God, especially when we say no to things that clutter our spirits and depress our energy, those things that leave us feeling exhausted rather than passionate. Yeses and no’s often exist as “companions in the process of a whole and holy life.”
Perhaps our Brethren and Mennonite ancestors were best known for their “no’s” in life: no to material trappings, no to violence, no to creeds. But it would be shortsighted for us to think this was simply a way of negativity, preferring to embrace all that is harsh and grim and rejecting life’s pleasures.
What if we took to heart our ancestors’ wisdom: that by saying “no” to materialism allows us to say “yes” to the simple abundance of God’s creation. No to violence and war and oppression means yes to affirming life for everyone, yes to peace for all God’s children. No to creedal doctrine and dogmas means yes to an openness in the spirit in which we all can live by God’s work through the living Gospel.
And that living Gospel and the story of Jesus is filled with people seeking balance and the faithful rhythm to their dance of life… Jesus encountered a rich ruler. This man wanted affirmation that all he was doing was exactly what was needed, that there was plenty of space for God in his life since he was doing all the right things. But for this man, Jesus pointed out, one thing kept him from God: his money. We are to assume that since he was rich, he likely said yes to many things that kept him at a distance from God: perhaps exploitation of his work force, perhaps valuing luxury over charity. Jesus said if you want to join me in this dance, you’ve got to say no to those things and if that can only happen by giving away your money, by reconciling and readdressing financial wrongdoings, then isn’t it worth it?
But it wasn’t just about saying no, saying “sell everything you have and renounce your wealth.” It was about picking up a yes in its place. Sell what you have and give it away, take action. Simply saying no isn’t good enough. Letting go of all your commitments and saying no to every request that comes your way won’t necessarily bring you closer to God. It must be bound up with a positive, even if that positive is protecting that extra space you’ve made (by giving up a habit or responsibility) space to continue discerning God’s work in your life.
And God’s work had its limits, too. Saying yes also means knowing when enough is enough, when to say no more is needed. God created earth, sky, wind, light, dark, water, life…and God knew when to rest. When to call it good.
If we were in charge of re-creating this earth, and in many ways I believe that we are, it is likely that our pride would get in the way don’t you think? We might say, “Well if I don’t do this or that then who is going to do it?” or “If I stay up just two more hours I can perfect this world.” God didn’t call it quits, God simply called it good…enough…that’s enough. God said yes, I can rest. And so can we.
Living a life in which we can faithfully and confidently say yes and no is a life long project. It is a spiritual practice, something to work with, something to engage our relationship with God, and help us see more clearly the priorities in our lives. M Shawn Copeland wisely understands this practice as one in which “we are invited and challenged to make a fully conscious choice about what it is we are…
and who it is we shall become.” May we each find the strength and grace to do so.
And now, may the conversation continue…. You have each been given a sheet of reflection questions and I invite you to gather in groups of two or three and each take time to reflect on one of the questions that jumps out at you. You don’t have to all reflect on the same questions, just share as the spirit leads. Let each person have about 3 minutes to share…
(Guiding questions in bulletin)
[1] “Saying Yes and Saying No” by M Shawn Copeland in Practicing our Faith edited by Dorothy Bass (Jossey Bass, San Francsico, 1997).
Passionate Spirituality Sermon Series
Genesis 1 excerpts
Luke 18:18-22
Story for All Ages: Green Eggs and Ham
(This is the second sermon in our summer sermon series on Passionate Spirituality, inspired by the book Practicing our Faith by Dorothy Bass. Accompanying each sermon is a "Story for All Ages" where we will read a Dr. Suess story that ties with the theme. Shorter sermons lead into greater time of congregational reflection, which are posted below the sermon)
At some point in our lives who has not felt like either Sam-I-am or Grumpy Man (as referred to in our home)? Big questions and big responsibilities come our way and we are either saying no-no-no or encouraging someone else to say yes-yes-yes. Forgive me for an alternate comparison, but often in my life I’m not so much on a Green-eggs-and-ham conundrum, but more the conundrum posed by one of the original British punk rock bands…The Clash. (Yes, I confess. One of your pastors is a fan of British punk). In one of their most popular songs The Clash asked the question “Should I stay or should I go?” followed with an answer “If I stay there will be trouble, if I go there will be double.”
Should I say yes or should I say no? Should I accept or should I decline? Should I add another responsibility or should I let go of a commitment?
I know that many of you struggle with this, because when we surveyed the congregation on which spiritual practices you were most interested in exploring, “saying yes and saying no” was at the top of the list…along with prayer and forgiveness I might add. I have a feeling many of us in our lives have said yes to so many things, that we are looking for permission to say no. I have a feeling that many of us are looking at ways to clear the decks, to begin rebuilding our lives with just those things that are really important--hose things that fill us, that energize us.
Saying yes and saying no to the demands that come our way may not seem like a traditional spiritual practice. But as we talk about passionate spirituality for the next seven weeks, I think we’ll soon realize that each step towards God will be a process of saying yes to making space for God and saying no to those things that crowd God out.
In the words of M. Shawn Copeland, a Catholic laywoman, “If we are to enhance and build up the capacities for a good, wholesome, and holy life, we must learn to say yes to what affirms and renews wholeness and life. And we must learn to say a related no to what induces and brings about destruction and ruin.”[1]
Deep and passionate spirituality is a constant dance of accepting and declining dance partners, weighing and evaluating the music that guides us, and refining and improving our steps. When we learn the deeply difficult and deeply blessed discipline of making space for God to dwell deeply in us, the steps may seem a bit more fluid, more true to who we are, more graceful as we dance in and through this life.
But then, life is a constant balance of yeses and no’s, isn’t it? When you wake up in the morning and get out of bed, you are saying “yes” to meeting the day. When you go to work or school you are essentially saying “yes” to the life of occupation or study. When you eat food you are saying yes to nourishment and essentially saying yes to life.
You could stay in bed, you could stay home from work or school (although if you’re in school, you might have to do a bit of work to convince your parents), you could say no to eating healthy food and no to nourishing your body. Those no’s have consequences. But essentially, your actions are responses to life’s questions an affirmative or negative answer. Each moment you live is a balance, often an unconscious one, of saying yes and no.
But this is not to make it seem like saying no is a bad thing. In fact many times by saying “no” we are opening up space in our lives for God, especially when we say no to things that clutter our spirits and depress our energy, those things that leave us feeling exhausted rather than passionate. Yeses and no’s often exist as “companions in the process of a whole and holy life.”
Perhaps our Brethren and Mennonite ancestors were best known for their “no’s” in life: no to material trappings, no to violence, no to creeds. But it would be shortsighted for us to think this was simply a way of negativity, preferring to embrace all that is harsh and grim and rejecting life’s pleasures.
What if we took to heart our ancestors’ wisdom: that by saying “no” to materialism allows us to say “yes” to the simple abundance of God’s creation. No to violence and war and oppression means yes to affirming life for everyone, yes to peace for all God’s children. No to creedal doctrine and dogmas means yes to an openness in the spirit in which we all can live by God’s work through the living Gospel.
And that living Gospel and the story of Jesus is filled with people seeking balance and the faithful rhythm to their dance of life… Jesus encountered a rich ruler. This man wanted affirmation that all he was doing was exactly what was needed, that there was plenty of space for God in his life since he was doing all the right things. But for this man, Jesus pointed out, one thing kept him from God: his money. We are to assume that since he was rich, he likely said yes to many things that kept him at a distance from God: perhaps exploitation of his work force, perhaps valuing luxury over charity. Jesus said if you want to join me in this dance, you’ve got to say no to those things and if that can only happen by giving away your money, by reconciling and readdressing financial wrongdoings, then isn’t it worth it?
But it wasn’t just about saying no, saying “sell everything you have and renounce your wealth.” It was about picking up a yes in its place. Sell what you have and give it away, take action. Simply saying no isn’t good enough. Letting go of all your commitments and saying no to every request that comes your way won’t necessarily bring you closer to God. It must be bound up with a positive, even if that positive is protecting that extra space you’ve made (by giving up a habit or responsibility) space to continue discerning God’s work in your life.
And God’s work had its limits, too. Saying yes also means knowing when enough is enough, when to say no more is needed. God created earth, sky, wind, light, dark, water, life…and God knew when to rest. When to call it good.
If we were in charge of re-creating this earth, and in many ways I believe that we are, it is likely that our pride would get in the way don’t you think? We might say, “Well if I don’t do this or that then who is going to do it?” or “If I stay up just two more hours I can perfect this world.” God didn’t call it quits, God simply called it good…enough…that’s enough. God said yes, I can rest. And so can we.
Living a life in which we can faithfully and confidently say yes and no is a life long project. It is a spiritual practice, something to work with, something to engage our relationship with God, and help us see more clearly the priorities in our lives. M Shawn Copeland wisely understands this practice as one in which “we are invited and challenged to make a fully conscious choice about what it is we are…
and who it is we shall become.” May we each find the strength and grace to do so.
And now, may the conversation continue…. You have each been given a sheet of reflection questions and I invite you to gather in groups of two or three and each take time to reflect on one of the questions that jumps out at you. You don’t have to all reflect on the same questions, just share as the spirit leads. Let each person have about 3 minutes to share…
(Guiding questions in bulletin)
1. Think of one commitment you have in your lifeWhy did you say “yes” to this commitment?
Does it help you encounter God, or does it crowd out God?
If it crowds out God, is it possible that there are ways to encounter God within it? If not, what would happen if you let go of the commitment?
If you encounter God within it, how do you feel it enriches your life?
2. What are you currently saying “yes” to that feels like it crowds God out (a habit, responsibility, decision, or life choice)?
What might happen if you said “not” to it, and let go?
3. What are you currently saying “no” to that may enhance your life and relationship with God (a habit, responsibility, decision, or life choice)?
If you choose to say “yes” to it, what needs to happen to make space for it to enhance your life?
4. What has this worship on “Saying Yes and Saying No” brought up for you in your mind and heart?
[1] “Saying Yes and Saying No” by M Shawn Copeland in Practicing our Faith edited by Dorothy Bass (Jossey Bass, San Francsico, 1997).
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Passionate Spirituality - The Call
sermon by Torin Eikler
Mark 13:32-37 Matthew 5:13-16
In the last week, crude oil prices have fluctuated between $80 and $53 per barrel. Gas prices are down about 5 cents. General Motors made it through bankruptcy in an amazingly short 40 days and 40 nights, and its new CEO seems to be confident that the job cuts and debt relief will allow the company to thrive despite the depressed car market and the fact that the governments of the United States and Canada now own about 72% of the company. The G-8 summit ended with pledges totaling $15 billion in aid for farmers in poorer countries. California is still trying to come to terms on a budget that stands any chance of dealing with $26 billion short fall, and the national debt currently stands at $11.5 trillion with deficit spending in the range of $2 trillion dollars threatening to drive it on up. 5 more soldiers were killed in Afghanistan. Bombings in Mosul and Baghdad resulted in at least 41 deaths. And the protests of the Uighur minority in Northwestern China have brought on a police crack down leading to at least 156 dead and 1,000 injured.
Well, that’s a rough summary of the news that I heard on the radio Friday afternoon, and it all seemed to be about the numbers. To be honest, I’m not really surprised that the news is more than a little obsessed by numbers lately – though it left me feeling anxious and confused rather than informed. As the recession has gone on and on and on with its bank failures, bail-outs, massive stimulus packages, and substantial cases of fraud the economy has taken over the media’s center stage just as economic concerns seem to have come to the fore-front in people’s lives. And, economics – be they household or national – are all about numbers. And our focus on the economy has affected our whole perspective, making the relevant information about any given situation the numbers involved.
So, it doesn’t seem to matter quite as much what is actually happening in Iraq and Afghanistan or what’s behind the Uighur and Tibetan protests in Western China. What matters is how many people – soldiers, insurgents, and innocent bystanders – are killed or injured. It doesn’t seem to matter quite as much that people are having trouble getting food or health care for their families. What matters is that their ranks are growing by the thousands and the unemployment rate might soon top 10%. It doesn’t matter … unless you are one of those caught up in the struggle for survival, and we are hearing less and less about those people.
Now, I’m not saying that we shouldn’t keep an eye on our finances or those of the government under which we live. Nor should we ignore the number of people killed on the battle field or threatened with death by hunger or illness. On the contrary, I think that it’s a very good idea to pay attention to the flow of money in and out of our lives and to bear in mind the cost of “life as we know it” in human suffering. But, I do find something within me rising up against an excessive concentration on numbers and statistics when that focus erases the individual lives involved, numbs our hearts’ compassion, and blinds our spirits’ vision of what could be – what should be.
That’s particularly troubling when it enters the world of the church as it has been lately. With church membership and attendance in decline, many people have become obsessed with church growth by the numbers. Study after study has shown that the unchurched in this country number in the millions, and it’s probably safe to assume that they number in the tens of thousands in Morgantown. Researchers, church leaders, pastors, and even members have latched onto this as the answer to church growth, seeking ways to bring those people into the fold so that churches can return to the size and stability they knew in the last century. Yet, here too the focus on numbers can bog us down us. Certainly, it would be nice to have a full sanctuary every Sunday …. But, that is not the end all and be all of church life.
I wonder, in fact, if concern for attendance at or membership in a church really has a place in the life of the Christian community. Certainly we should care about people, and we should take to heart the call to share the good news of Christ with everyone – especially those who have not heard the gospel (who, I think, may be surprising large in number). Yet, the work of conversion is ultimately the work of Spirit and not, perhaps, our work. What we, as a community, are called to occupy ourselves with is our own spiritual growth and the lives of discipleship that spring from it. When we lose that focus, we risk falling into a spiritual doze when we are called to be a light for the nations.
Let me share a story that I heard from a colleague not long ago. It is the story of a small, struggling congregation in the midst of Missouri’s farmland. Even though the church stood in the middle of fields miles from any cities, it had once been a thriving community filled with the families that worked the surrounding land. Over the years, the congregation shrank as the farmland was consolidated and new generations moved away to work in other areas. And, for the last twenty or so years of its life, it had just a few dozen members.
Even as the congregation struggled to keep up the building and members worried about what would happen in the future, they continued to meet together faithfully. Eventually, of course, the church closed its doors. But on the final Sunday, the atmosphere was not one of sadness and regret, though those emotions were certainly present. Over the years, and especially in the final few decades, the passionate faith of the membership had profoundly affected those who were part of the community. Of the people who had grown up in the congregation and left, twenty of them had gone out to do mission work both overseas and in the inner cities of this country. Another fifty had found their way into non-profit organizations dedicated to the welfare of the marginalized in our society. And, six had become pastors themselves – three of them planting congregations marked by the same vibrant spirituality that had characterized the small country church. So, instead of mourning, the congregation along with many former members celebrated the powerful ministry the church had carried out during its life and the way their presence would continue to be felt throughout the world. And, every one of those who returned to mark the end of this particular era told stories of the many times that others had shared with them how the example of their lives and their faith had brought them back to the church.
It’s an inspiring story. A little sad, perhaps, but all great stories have a bit of sadness in them. More to the point, though, it reflects the picture of the church we have in the Bible.
From the beginning, the story of Christ and his followers has been about a passionate desire to follow the new way taught by Jesus. During his life and ministry, Jesus called people to wake up and see the Kingdom of God around them. He challenged the status quo and the humdrum lives lived by those who followed it. He invited people to lay down that life and find a powerful new connection with the Life that God had in mind for them.
And, for some that invitation was irresistible. They heard the good news, and they left behind or changed their old lives – sometimes even leaving behind their family – in order to follow. They risked their lives, literally as well as figuratively, because the joy and passion they had found. And, against all odds (at least according to the wisdom of the time), their numbers grew. Despite all the forces working against them, the “Spirit added to their numbers” – not arbitrarily, but through the powerful light of their own powerful faith and the passionate spirituality that drove them out to live lives of discipleship and service to one another and to those they lived among.
Another inspiring story, isn’t it? And, if we might pass the other story off as not our own, we cannot do so with this one. It’s our history, and it’s the story that inspired our spiritual ancestors to reform the church they felt had fallen asleep. It is our story, and as we read it each week, it reminds us of Christ’s call to each of us – a call to continually seek a passionate spirituality within ourselves and shine our own light into the world.
Now, if you are like me, you might hear those last words and think, “That’s all well and good, but that’s what I’ve been trying to do all along. Where do I go from here?” And, that’s a very good question. Sadly, I don’t have an answer for you. Or, rather, I don’t have the answer because passionate spirituality is something that we each have to discover for ourselves.
But the good news is that those who have gone before us have left us a sort of guide to what they found helpful on their journeys. And, for the next several weeks we will be exploring some of those spiritual practices together, and though the list of possibilities is extensive, we will be focusing on saying yes and saying no, discernment, hospitality, forgiveness, healing, dying well, and prayer in response to the input we received on the surveys last month.
As a part of the process, we will be inviting you all to participate in some new and different ways. Instead of a time of silent reflection following the sermons, we will invite you to join in a variety of activities including small group discussions, congregational conversation, and individual journaling all guided by some leading questions. It is our hope that this process of group study will help our faith community awaken to a renewed sense of vibrant faith that will shine an inviting light for those who are seeking the One it is our passion to follow.
We will begin this process today with a time of individual journaling. So, please pick up one of the journals we have provided, get a pen or pencil, and spend the next several minutes writing about one or all of the following questions:
What do you find exciting or challenging about exploring some new spiritual practices?
Are there any particular practices that feel more inviting to you and why?
How do you hope this experience will change or enhance your own spiritual lives?
Please feel free to take the journals with you to use throughout this time of exploration if you wish, but bring them with you on Sundays so that they are here for future journaling times. Or, if you don’t feel they would be a helpful tool during the week, you may leave them here. Either way, please put your name on the front cover so that we are all able to respect one another’s privacy.
Now, I invite you into a time of silence as we continue to worship through this medium of expression. The leading questions, once again, are:
What do you find exciting or challenging about exploring some new spiritual practices?
Are there any particular practices that feel more inviting to you and why?
How do you hope this experience will change or enhance your own spiritual lives?
Mark 13:32-37 Matthew 5:13-16
In the last week, crude oil prices have fluctuated between $80 and $53 per barrel. Gas prices are down about 5 cents. General Motors made it through bankruptcy in an amazingly short 40 days and 40 nights, and its new CEO seems to be confident that the job cuts and debt relief will allow the company to thrive despite the depressed car market and the fact that the governments of the United States and Canada now own about 72% of the company. The G-8 summit ended with pledges totaling $15 billion in aid for farmers in poorer countries. California is still trying to come to terms on a budget that stands any chance of dealing with $26 billion short fall, and the national debt currently stands at $11.5 trillion with deficit spending in the range of $2 trillion dollars threatening to drive it on up. 5 more soldiers were killed in Afghanistan. Bombings in Mosul and Baghdad resulted in at least 41 deaths. And the protests of the Uighur minority in Northwestern China have brought on a police crack down leading to at least 156 dead and 1,000 injured.
Well, that’s a rough summary of the news that I heard on the radio Friday afternoon, and it all seemed to be about the numbers. To be honest, I’m not really surprised that the news is more than a little obsessed by numbers lately – though it left me feeling anxious and confused rather than informed. As the recession has gone on and on and on with its bank failures, bail-outs, massive stimulus packages, and substantial cases of fraud the economy has taken over the media’s center stage just as economic concerns seem to have come to the fore-front in people’s lives. And, economics – be they household or national – are all about numbers. And our focus on the economy has affected our whole perspective, making the relevant information about any given situation the numbers involved.
So, it doesn’t seem to matter quite as much what is actually happening in Iraq and Afghanistan or what’s behind the Uighur and Tibetan protests in Western China. What matters is how many people – soldiers, insurgents, and innocent bystanders – are killed or injured. It doesn’t seem to matter quite as much that people are having trouble getting food or health care for their families. What matters is that their ranks are growing by the thousands and the unemployment rate might soon top 10%. It doesn’t matter … unless you are one of those caught up in the struggle for survival, and we are hearing less and less about those people.
Now, I’m not saying that we shouldn’t keep an eye on our finances or those of the government under which we live. Nor should we ignore the number of people killed on the battle field or threatened with death by hunger or illness. On the contrary, I think that it’s a very good idea to pay attention to the flow of money in and out of our lives and to bear in mind the cost of “life as we know it” in human suffering. But, I do find something within me rising up against an excessive concentration on numbers and statistics when that focus erases the individual lives involved, numbs our hearts’ compassion, and blinds our spirits’ vision of what could be – what should be.
That’s particularly troubling when it enters the world of the church as it has been lately. With church membership and attendance in decline, many people have become obsessed with church growth by the numbers. Study after study has shown that the unchurched in this country number in the millions, and it’s probably safe to assume that they number in the tens of thousands in Morgantown. Researchers, church leaders, pastors, and even members have latched onto this as the answer to church growth, seeking ways to bring those people into the fold so that churches can return to the size and stability they knew in the last century. Yet, here too the focus on numbers can bog us down us. Certainly, it would be nice to have a full sanctuary every Sunday …. But, that is not the end all and be all of church life.
I wonder, in fact, if concern for attendance at or membership in a church really has a place in the life of the Christian community. Certainly we should care about people, and we should take to heart the call to share the good news of Christ with everyone – especially those who have not heard the gospel (who, I think, may be surprising large in number). Yet, the work of conversion is ultimately the work of Spirit and not, perhaps, our work. What we, as a community, are called to occupy ourselves with is our own spiritual growth and the lives of discipleship that spring from it. When we lose that focus, we risk falling into a spiritual doze when we are called to be a light for the nations.
Let me share a story that I heard from a colleague not long ago. It is the story of a small, struggling congregation in the midst of Missouri’s farmland. Even though the church stood in the middle of fields miles from any cities, it had once been a thriving community filled with the families that worked the surrounding land. Over the years, the congregation shrank as the farmland was consolidated and new generations moved away to work in other areas. And, for the last twenty or so years of its life, it had just a few dozen members.
Even as the congregation struggled to keep up the building and members worried about what would happen in the future, they continued to meet together faithfully. Eventually, of course, the church closed its doors. But on the final Sunday, the atmosphere was not one of sadness and regret, though those emotions were certainly present. Over the years, and especially in the final few decades, the passionate faith of the membership had profoundly affected those who were part of the community. Of the people who had grown up in the congregation and left, twenty of them had gone out to do mission work both overseas and in the inner cities of this country. Another fifty had found their way into non-profit organizations dedicated to the welfare of the marginalized in our society. And, six had become pastors themselves – three of them planting congregations marked by the same vibrant spirituality that had characterized the small country church. So, instead of mourning, the congregation along with many former members celebrated the powerful ministry the church had carried out during its life and the way their presence would continue to be felt throughout the world. And, every one of those who returned to mark the end of this particular era told stories of the many times that others had shared with them how the example of their lives and their faith had brought them back to the church.
It’s an inspiring story. A little sad, perhaps, but all great stories have a bit of sadness in them. More to the point, though, it reflects the picture of the church we have in the Bible.
From the beginning, the story of Christ and his followers has been about a passionate desire to follow the new way taught by Jesus. During his life and ministry, Jesus called people to wake up and see the Kingdom of God around them. He challenged the status quo and the humdrum lives lived by those who followed it. He invited people to lay down that life and find a powerful new connection with the Life that God had in mind for them.
And, for some that invitation was irresistible. They heard the good news, and they left behind or changed their old lives – sometimes even leaving behind their family – in order to follow. They risked their lives, literally as well as figuratively, because the joy and passion they had found. And, against all odds (at least according to the wisdom of the time), their numbers grew. Despite all the forces working against them, the “Spirit added to their numbers” – not arbitrarily, but through the powerful light of their own powerful faith and the passionate spirituality that drove them out to live lives of discipleship and service to one another and to those they lived among.
Another inspiring story, isn’t it? And, if we might pass the other story off as not our own, we cannot do so with this one. It’s our history, and it’s the story that inspired our spiritual ancestors to reform the church they felt had fallen asleep. It is our story, and as we read it each week, it reminds us of Christ’s call to each of us – a call to continually seek a passionate spirituality within ourselves and shine our own light into the world.
Now, if you are like me, you might hear those last words and think, “That’s all well and good, but that’s what I’ve been trying to do all along. Where do I go from here?” And, that’s a very good question. Sadly, I don’t have an answer for you. Or, rather, I don’t have the answer because passionate spirituality is something that we each have to discover for ourselves.
But the good news is that those who have gone before us have left us a sort of guide to what they found helpful on their journeys. And, for the next several weeks we will be exploring some of those spiritual practices together, and though the list of possibilities is extensive, we will be focusing on saying yes and saying no, discernment, hospitality, forgiveness, healing, dying well, and prayer in response to the input we received on the surveys last month.
As a part of the process, we will be inviting you all to participate in some new and different ways. Instead of a time of silent reflection following the sermons, we will invite you to join in a variety of activities including small group discussions, congregational conversation, and individual journaling all guided by some leading questions. It is our hope that this process of group study will help our faith community awaken to a renewed sense of vibrant faith that will shine an inviting light for those who are seeking the One it is our passion to follow.
We will begin this process today with a time of individual journaling. So, please pick up one of the journals we have provided, get a pen or pencil, and spend the next several minutes writing about one or all of the following questions:
What do you find exciting or challenging about exploring some new spiritual practices?
Are there any particular practices that feel more inviting to you and why?
How do you hope this experience will change or enhance your own spiritual lives?
Please feel free to take the journals with you to use throughout this time of exploration if you wish, but bring them with you on Sundays so that they are here for future journaling times. Or, if you don’t feel they would be a helpful tool during the week, you may leave them here. Either way, please put your name on the front cover so that we are all able to respect one another’s privacy.
Now, I invite you into a time of silence as we continue to worship through this medium of expression. The leading questions, once again, are:
What do you find exciting or challenging about exploring some new spiritual practices?
Are there any particular practices that feel more inviting to you and why?
How do you hope this experience will change or enhance your own spiritual lives?
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