Leggo My Ego

It has taken awhile to get it through my thick head, but I’m finally coming to terms with the length of the road toward healing and transformation. For the last three months of my life and ministry my refrain has been taking my ego offline. At first it seemed a relatively straightforward affair. In the familiarity of my home and my ministry I was able to navigate this change with great confidence. All seemed to go well. Then came our Annual Conference session…I was prepared to stay focused on taking my ego out of the equation and intentionally living into a ministry of renewal rather than reformation. What I was unprepared for was the strength of the pull into the institutional mentality of the Conference. I felt sucked back into old mindsets of the shortcomings of the institution and the need for reformation. In spite of my best efforts, my ego went for a swim in these dark and murky waters. In the process, I got hurt and frustrated in all the ways that I tried to avoid. I felt angry. I felt a deep sense of entitlement. I felt a deep frustration with an ego driven assessment of the short sighted opinions of others. I definitely need to repent.

A week of vacation in a warm, tropical location helped to decompress the anger, hurt and frustration and to lick the wounds of not being as far along the journey as I thought I was. I discovered that life in the institution demands a strength and vigilance that is seldom needed in the local church. The experienced also reinforced for me the counter productivity that often goes hand in hand with heavily invested and competing egos. In the healing of that week of vacation I began to experience new power in not simply focusing on the removal of ego but the intentional focus on the presence of Christ.

This focus came, as is often the case, in God’s time. Two days after returning from vacation I embarked on a 10 mission trip with 5 other adults and 20 Senior High youth. If there was ever a time and a need to take one’s ego off line, it was then. I love working with youth (for more than 25 years) and I’ve been taking this mission trip since I graduated from Seminary, but this particular trip proved to be different. With so many young and developing egos stretching and flexing new muscles there would have been plenty of opportunities for a heavily invested ego to do battle. Only when I turned my attention to Christ present in our midst and in each of the youth and away from my own ego, my own needs and my own need to be right did I realize a new richness of relationship and possibility for growth in faith that could come for my self and for these youth. Times of potential conflict became times of learning and growth. I hope and pray that I was able to model a different picture of faith, authority and leadership. I pray for the grace and strength to continue to build on what I’ve begun with these relationships.

The experiences of the last month are also lengthening my view of time and instilling in me the patience to walk this road the requisite one step at a time. This has become a corollary for me. Just as I learned of silence as the fullness of God not the absence of sound, I’m learning that faithful discipleship is the fullness of Christ rather than merely the absence of ego.

Getting Smacked in the Face, Again

Have you ever had one of those moments on the journey when a hole just seems to jump up and bite you? You know, you’re just tripping along minding your own business and out of nowhere you get tripped up, snared, knocked over… The thing that sucks about that scenario is that it comes when we least expect it. Typically it comes, also, when we need it most. I write this posting at an Annual Conference Plenary. Conference is nearly over, and as I reflect on my experience of this Conference in light of experiences of grace I’ve previously shared, I realize that I’ve been smacked in the face. I found myself tripping over my own ego.

I suppose that this should be considered a confessional. In spite of my desire to take my ego out of my faith and my service, in this setting, I’ve allowed it to sneak back in. In a place that could offer great hope and possibility for faith, transformation, discipleship and grace, I lament the ways that I have participated in ambition, jealousy, suspicion and mistrust. Those pieces that I had hoped to be in the process of being healed from that I recognized as having no place in my life suddenly were much closer than I expected or like. OUCH!

The irony of this confession is that the Bible studies that have begun each of our Conference days have talked about the power, reality and promise of God’s Shalom in the midst of a broken and uncertain world. Even as we’ve talked about shalom and challenged toward embracing the full depth of shalom, I’ve been stung by the absence of shalom in my own heart in these few days. I’m caught in the tension of claiming renewal as the authentic shape of my ministry and seeing the need to work toward the change of systemic practice and understanding in the life of the Annual Conference. It has created a decidedly unsettled feeling in my spirit.

How do I bear witness to the power and possibility of transformation in an unwieldy and cumbersome institution whose culture is permeated by suspicion, cynicism and apathy? How do I bear witness to the need to faithfully live in kairos (God’s time) in a culture that is obsessed with rapid answers? How do I bear witness to the possibility of shalom within a culture that struggles to be gentle with self and with other? At the risk of sounding petulant, how do I bear this witness in a community in which I don’t have a voice? Perhaps it’s only that I don’t have the voice that I think I should have. Perhaps I do have a voice, but it is that I don’t think I’m being heard. In any case, I’ve got to deal with my own perceptions of being voiceless or not being heard. I’ve tripped over my ego. It is time to be led in the next step of healing.

Authentically Living Into Change

For about a month I've been living with the knowledge that something has changed deep within me. The deep interior work of the Holy Spirit has brought deep healing and transformation into my life. When the Spirit's work hit critical mass in my spirit, the recognition of the change came quickly.

As quickly and easily has the change came to me, I've discovered that living into this change, into this new reality is an altogether different challenge. Throughout my ministry I've endeavored to live with all of the integrity and authenticity that I could muster. For the most part there have been few tectonic changes in my experience. This has given me the luxury of transitional living. Incorporation of new experiences, ideas and understandings have been experienced more like a steady flow rather than a earth shaking change. Because the most recent change has been so deep and so immediate I have floundered a bit.

Because of the profundity of the change I felt called and compelled to mark the change. I wanted to have an outward and visible sign of the interior and spiritual change. Due to the nature of the change itself, the most meaningful expression was shaving my head. This wasn’t about being a spectacle to the world and drawing attention to my self. I did it to have something that would be a reminder of the change that I’ve felt. It has been the constant reminder of transformation and surrender to God that I hoped it would be. Each day I've been approaching shaving as a spiritual discipline. I will offer my breath prayer and/or think of people I know who need prayer. This has been very helpful. But there is still a piece that is missing.

What I am now discovering is that nurturing the root of this change will take a level of discipline that I have very little experience in practicing. I have a new identity, a new self-conception, and with it must come new practices, deeper practices. Suddenly the image of new wine in old wine skins takes on a new depth of meaning. Daunting or not, this is my path, this is my journey. Lord, may each step be marked with the grace that has seen me this far.

A New Community

The experience of tectonic movement in my life and spirit is becoming more common. For many months now, I’ve been sharing my journey and the deep interior work of the Holy Spirit in my life. As I conceived of this work, celebrated it and gave thanks for it I unconsciously thought of this work as a largely singular practice. My experiences of the Triune God have become so deeply personal; there was an element to it that seemed to be just me and God. Even though the Academy for Spiritual Formation experience has been anything but a singular experience, the place and power of that covenantal community experience hadn’t filtered down through the layers of my life to nurture the depth of my faith.

I’ve come to learn that involvement in an intentional covenantal community is vital to spiritual formation. There is no such thing as the solitary spiritual life. I’ve also learned that even in the desert hermitages of the early aesthetic movement there was an intentional, supportive and spiritual community. The extraordinary experiences of healing, grace and transformation that I’ve had would have had no meaning without the movements of prayer, conversation, worship, accountability, table fellowship, joy, laughter and tears that mark the life of the Academy Community that has been drawn together by the Holy Spirit. The Spirit brought each of us to the Academy experience. We all came with different expectations, different experiences, different hurts, different biases and different desires and yet this grand group of diversity has become a means of God’s unique grace for each one of us. We have become a covenant community.

This is having a truly amazing impact on my conception of the church as a Community of Faith. I’m moving beyond a 30 year old paradigm of the church as simply a functional and organic reality. For most of my life I’ve known the power of the community of faith as a force for ministry and God’s reign of love and mercy. Through ministry teams, service projects and hands on community outreach I’ve seen lives changed in some powerful ways. By the great, powerful and reconciling work of the Holy Spirit, the church is drawn together not as an institutional reality but as a living, breathing body of believers. The Body of Christ is called to a work of transformation and yet, this transformation work must be rooted first in the Body’s experience of the transforming work of grace in its life and the life of its members.

Through an intentional and covenantal commitment to prayer, accountability to God and one another, worship, study and growth we become spiritually formed. This work is not solitary it is necessarily the work of the community. The work of intentional covenant community doesn’t supplant the work of mission and evangelism; Matthew 25 and 28 are still quite specific on that matter. The life of being spiritually formed is what gives breath to our outreach. It is what gives us strength when the obstacles get us down. It is what gives us a vivid picture, not only in knowledge but also in experience, of God’s preferred future and the patience to work with God and walk with God instead of thinking that we do it all on our own.

Strength in numbers is not simply a formula for mission. It is the life blood of a covenant community intent on being spiritually formed.

The Master Artist

A clear picture…a beautiful picture…painted on my heart with colors so vibrant that it could only have been a masterpiece brushed by the Master Artist. A sweeping image of the power of promise, possibility and redemption that shine light across and into the darkest corners, this image rendered on flesh and bone, substance and spirit has taken a lifetime to fashion…my lifetime. The Artist has painstakingly crafted this masterwork to make known to all who would gaze upon it the overwhelming power of light to reshape and redefine the world, one life at a time.

This painting is not a museum piece. It was not created to hang on a wall with perfect light in a climate controlled environment. This piece is on perpetual tour. It is to be out in the world, walking the sidewalks and roadways to take its message of hope wherever the path leads. Out in the world the painting becomes vulnerable. This masterwork is always at risk. The hazards of the road can damage and deform the work. The debris that floats on the wind can damage the paint surface and canvas. Salty tears can erode the vibrant colors. Gentle rain and howling storms dilute the clarity and run the picture together. Light begins to fade from the image, darkness and shadows gather. Before too long the image becomes unrecognizable. It becomes a caricature of its former self…damaged, twisted, torn and diluted. It becomes a mockery of the vision that fashioned it.

Too long on the road and the masterwork would simply break apart.

Thankfully the Artist is not merely a gifted Creator. The Artist is also a Master Re-Creator. No matter the path, the Artist’s Studio is never far away. In the safety and security of the Studio the Artist goes to work to restore the original vision and the original hope. The canvas and frame are repaired and strengthened. The sharpness of focus is deftly restored. The vibrant colors are renewed and once again the light shines across and into the dark spaces. The power of promise, possibility and redemption once more shine through. The beauty and luster are restored.

While the artist may have a fleeting thought of hanging the restored masterwork on the wall to protect it from the harsh reality of the world, it is only a fleeting thought. The Artist gives the painting the once over and then sends it back out into the world to share its message of hope. After all, that is what this work was created for…that is where it belongs.

SURRENDER!

The retreat I anticipated at the beginning of this week has been fulfilled in ways that I couldn't possibly have imagined. The interior work of the Spirit has run deep...deeper than I've yet experienced. In fact, the Spirit has taken up rather obvious residence in the deepest recesses of my life, faith and ministry and begun to take the sheets of the furniture and raise the shades on the window. The dark and dusty depths are being exposed to the light. Even though these areas that have been covered over a long time are now revealed and I suppose I should feel a little vulnerable, instead I am rejoicing at this. With the light has come liberation.

This work can be centered around once concept...Surrender. This has been the theme for the day. In the morning I considered the nature of my striving and my struggles in faith and ministry. I considered how the need to prove myself, particularly in stressful and challenging times, and what becomes a sliding off in my spiritual practices demonstrates a fundamental lack of trust in God, in others and in myself. The word that kept coming up was "surrender." I came to terms with a truth that I have known and preached and was able to apply for the first time to my own deep need. The times that I am least inclined to surrender and most likely to hold things closely and go my own way are the times I most need to surrender.

This afternoon as we were considering spiritual practices of leadership and in particular spiritual practices in the area of conflict new insights were born. I've long struggled with and argued with myself about my own predisposition away from conflict. I had to come to terms with my own fundamental errors in regard to conflict in the church. There will never, ever (at least on this side of heaven) be a time when conflict will not exist in the church. Christ himself reminded us of this. There is no way whether by leadership acumen, force of will, depth of spirituality or force of personality that will stem this tide (I knew that, but I chose, instead, to believe a narcissitic fairytale). Into this came surrender. Suddenly a spiritual practices approach to conflict became a concrete way toward submission.

I continued my walk, praying my breath prayer "Shepherd of the Flock--show me Your way." I reflected on the vision that God was springing forth in my life and I continued to reflect on surrender. As I walked and communed with the very obvious presence of the Holy Spirit, the weight of surrender began to grow. With each step, surrender and the thought of it became more and more a burden.

At that moment the most amazing transformation took place. I began to recall the joy, the exuberance and the sense of liberation that flowed out of the healing and release that I had experienced yesterday. It struck me in that moment that surrender was not a burden to carry. It is laying down the burden of feeling that I need to be the focal point of ministry, that I needed to be the catalyst for change and that the success and failure of the church was not dependent on wholly on ME!! (I already new this, too; I just wasn't sure I believed it). That was the burden that I needed to lay at the feet of Christ. That is what has been tripping me on my journey. That is the burden that I am called to lay down. That is what I must surrender. This surrender is what will enable me to take the next steps where Christ will lead me.


Shepherd of the Flock--Show me Your way.

Escape or Retreat

As I fly high above California's Central Valley on my way to the 7th week of the Academy for Spiritual Formation the question of escape or retreat is beginning to focus my awareness. I had noble intentions to post last week. I had a wonderful reflection on the book of Ezekiel, which I will probable post in the future. Life and death got in the way of those intentions. Monday began with the tragedy at Virginia Tech University. The week became increasingly impacted as each day passed. Pastoral care needs grew as parishoners entered the hospital and one returned home from the hospital with hospice care. By midweek it was already a full week, but it was not over. I caught wind of a threat at one of our local high schools. It was a graffiti threat invoking the memory of the Columbine High School shooting of 1999. The threat was eventually deemed a hoax, but the emotions were already raw given the events in Virginia and the growing reports of campus and workplace violence across the country.

The sermon that I had intended to preach about the transformational power of the resurrection was taking on new and very real dimensions. Bearing witness to the power of the resurrection to continue to transform lives was becoming more and more necessary as we became increasingly confronted with the pain, grief and brokenness that was expressing itself in violence across the country.

Thursday's early morning sleep was interrupted by a call to the home of a church member whose adult daughter had been murdered in her home by her estranged husband, who then took his own life. This crime was witnessed by the couple's three children. I have been concerned about family violence for a number of years. I have, in my previous congregation, held annual domestic violence awareness events to raise people's consciousness about the epidemic. I didn't realize how much I'd back burnered this ministry until I was confronted with the pain of this family. It became very difficult and much more real than it had ever been as I ministered to this family.
I have arrived in San Francisco now and am sitting in a Starbucks enjoying a relatively quiet moment in anticipation of the beginning of the week. As I feel myself begin to unspool from the week's events I'm working through the conflicted feelings of whether I'm "escaping" or "retreating". There is a significant part of me that could very easily run away from this. I think about the Bob Seger song, "Against the Wind" where he speaks these words that cry out from my heart today: "I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then." I could be content with keeping these tragedies, this kind of violence at arms length...someone else's family, someone else's congregation. I suppose that there is a certain amount of sanity and normalcy to a comment like this. But I also realize that that train has left the station. I do know now what I didn't know then. So I guess one could make the argument that escape is simply not possible.
Therefore, if escape is not possible what do I do with the idea of retreat? Retreat feels different. It isn't desertion. It isn't a permanent state of separation. It is not withdrawal with no thought of ever returning to the fray. As I begin this week my only thought is to take a deep breath. I want to slow down enough to breath in deeply the Spirit and the Spirit's power. I want to draw into my soul the Spirit's healing and wholeness. This is a time to rest a little, retool, resupply and reorient myself. One of the things that I know about myself is that I can very easily develop a bunker mentality. I sharpen my focus and narrow my field of vision in order to address a crisis. It happens quickly and almost imperceptibly but I have found it very difficult to break out of it without some kind of retreat.

Last week was a seminal week in my life and my ministry. It shook me in a lot of ways. By the grace of God, I have an opportunity this week. I have a retreat laid out before me and I pray that I might experience the grace that I will need to grow into this new experience. This is not simply a prayer for myself. It is a prayer for my church family. It is a prayer for all whose lives have been touched and forever altered by violence. It is a prayer for all those who are searching for a new way through.

Is Monastic Community Possible?

This may seem like an odd question in the early 21^st Century. In our highly individualist culture this may seem an inappropriate question. The prospect of living in cloistered communities, under order, taking spartan vows and living in poverty may seem completely out of step with post-modern culture; however, I believe that there are important lessons about the modern church that we can learn by taking a fresh look at monastic life.

There has been a lot of evidence in the media about a growing trend toward narcissism in the society at large. I’ve seen emerging evidence of a “me” culture and the obsessive drive toward personal satisfaction. From user defined content on the internet to a consumer driven culture that packages patriotism with material consumption we are being sold on the notion that we owe it to ourselves to satisfy every desire. This culture is creeping into the church. I’ve seen a creeping trend toward a satisfaction-based commitment to the church. What I mean is this: As long as a person is satisfied with what they are getting from the church everything is fine. When something happens to destabilize that satisfaction some will leave in search of a church that will satisfy their needs. The Church of Jesus Christ, the Body of Christ, is not built on a satisfaction-based model. The church is fashioned by the work of the Holy Spirit and through our unparalleled commitment to Jesus we come into alignment with that Body that exists independently of us.

In the last few weeks I’ve been reading through the monastic rule of Benedict of Nursia. This monastic rule has established a community of faith that has existed for more than 1500 years. This rule raises commitment to Christ to be the first and unequaled commitment. No other human want or commitment can compete with this commitment to Christ. This is an austere path to community, but given the current trend in our culture, there may be something to be said for this sort of commitment. While Benedict’s call to physically live in community may not be part of Christian’s calling, we can live in the spirit of that kind of radical commitment to Christ in which we put our commitment to Christ and the community above our own wants.

As I’ve read the Benedictine Rule, I’ve been confronted with some of my own shadow side. As I’ve lamented the emerging satisfaction-based commitment to the church, I’ve realized that the ego-centric roots of a consumer culture church have been present in my own life. I’ve labored with my own sense of entitlement about what the church should be like. I’ve come to the difficult realization that simply because I am the Senior Pastor I’m no more entitled than anyone else to have my wants satisfied. Since I have no intention of leaving and I can’t expect all of my wants to be satisfied, I’m forced to come up with a middle way. I’ve known for a while that the church wasn’t about me and my ego but this represents a much deeper learning of that truth. It’s been relatively easy to not invest my ego in the church when things were going fairly well. It has been in times of conflict that I realized I haven’t completely taken my ego out of the equation.

Through reading Dietrich Bonhoeffer and reflecting on my own frustrations and anxieties I’ve come to understand more completely that the Church, the Body of Christ, exists independently of us. The Church exists before us and it is not our creation. We don’t shape the church. The Church was created through the work of the Holy Spirit as the means by which God calls us out of our sin into a life of faith. Through the Baptismal Covenant we become initiated into the community that existed before us. It is pure hubris to expect the church to conform to our wishes. It is our faithful work to bend our wishes and wants to the community through our singular commitment to Christ…even for pastors this holds true. I can not expect everyone to be on their best behavior and to fly in formation all the time.

Pressing on Through the Desert

Perseverance is a critical Christian value. We are reminded by Paul to persevere through the difficult times of our life when we face illness, brokenness and adversity of any sort. Paul reminds us of the powerful words of grace that inspire strength in tribulation. I've been thinking about perseverance in relation to the spiritual journey and realizing the importance of Philippians 3 where Paul encourages us to press ahead and to strain toward the goal of knowing Christ more completely.

I'm writing this posting from a mountaintop in Joshua Tree National Park. I have a beautiful view toward the community of Twentynine Palms, CA and the pristine desert valley that stretches toward the horizon before me. It is a gorgeous day and I see this as a moment of grace.

It was no easy task to get here. It required hiking through sandy washes, over rock strewn hillsides and up countless hillside switchbacks. In 90+ degree heat it was a chore to get here. All along the trail I continued to meditate on Paul's encouragement to the church to press ahead, to strain forward to knowing Christ more completely. I felt those words as encouragement on the trail. This is the first time I've ever hiked this trail, so I didn't know where I would end up, but I had the expectation that it would be excellent and that the destination would make the strain of the journey worthwhile.

Pressing ahead, straining toward the prize of knowing Christ more completely, even through the desert, is a vital practice in the spiritual life. The desert has a life and vitality of its own. Perhaps it is more barren than we might be comfortable with, but if we are willing to look beyond the surface of the seemingly barren places on our journey, we will find life and grace in unexpected places. While trekking through the arid and desert regions of my life isn't a trip I'd want to take with great frequency, I suppose God is showing me that the desert is not something to be feared or disdained.

A Normal Day

With all of the movement and changes in my life and spirit in the last few weeks I was beginning to lose the sense of God's presence in the ordinary. The tectonic movements in my faith and self-understanding have been so large that normal, everyday days were feeling a bit dry. I suppose that this is predictable if only by comparison. I have experienced so much healing in my life and spirit that my sense of renewal is off the chart. The shadow side of the feeling of liberation with which I've been blessed is that I've found it very easy to avoid having my feet on the ground.

This week I've found the sustaining grace of God in the everyday, not in the loftiness of ecstatic experience but with my feet firmly planted on the ground. The grace in this is that it is changing my view from the street level. Even as I write this posting I've been confronted with the reality of the messiness of sin and the human condition in my work and ministry. Standing in the midst of the mire even today, I’ve had the assurance of the Spirit which has served to remind me that the transformational power of the Spirit operates at eye level as well as in the clouds.

As I reflect on my journey of faith I'm experiencing again the truth that the healing, transforming and empowering grace of God is a companion on every step of my journey. Whether God leads my journey along the heights, above the clouds, or through the mire and muck of the world I am called to be rooted in the reality of the constancy of God’s transforming work unleashed within me and in the world around me.

Coming to Grips with God’s Timing

Change and growth are an inevitable part of our faith journey. As we move through our life, and hopefully move closer to God in the process, there is an amazingly intricate dance that we do with God. There is no doubt that God has a purpose for our life. There are things that we are created to accomplish. There are certain lessons that we need to learn to accomplish them. There are hurts that need to be healed and there are experiences that have to be overcome. At the same time, God will not run roughshod over our free will. God’s purpose for our life doesn’t negate our free will. The result is that our life, our growth in grace and faith and our faithful and effective service aren’t likely to follow a seamless trajectory; hence the image of the dance.

The challenge for our perception is that we don’t always learn things, get the healing or overcome previous experience in a logical order. In these past several months of near vertical learning curve I’ve had experiences of growth in which I’ve asked the hypothetical question: “Why didn’t I learn this before?” or, “Why am I only learning this now?” It didn’t take long before I came to grips with the truth that for one reason or another, I simply wasn’t ready…small consolation, but I’m learning to deal with it.

After the learning that I experienced two weeks ago with regard to my family of origin issues (a story dealt with in my previous posting) and particularly the healing that came as a result of it, I never articulated it fully, but the question of why I was only learning these things about my life and family now lingered just below the surface. While I wasn’t actively seeking the answer, God offered me a gift. This is my journal entry from the very next day. While it won’t be customary to share my journal with the world, I share these two entries (my previous posting and now this one) because I wanted to share the immediacy of the experience. Both of these entries were written while in the throws of what for me were profound experiences of grace.

February 15, 2007

I thought that today would be a pretty mellow day. Yesterday was so eventful, so inspiring, so cathartic and so exhausting. It felt like the first truly healthy day that I had ever lived. It was the first day that I felt free of the oppressive influence of my dad. It scared the crap out of me to feel so vulnerable, but I could feel the presence of God sustaining me.

Then comes this morning’s input session and a brief consideration of the topic of Wesleyan Spirituality. As I read and heard the familiar words of Wesley’s inspiration, I could feel the Spirit’s movement and power stir deep within my soul and my experience. I began to imagine a road stretched out before me. The truths that my practice and belief have taught me have given me a framework and have been a means of God’s sustaining grace. The came the question that drew me into silence: who are you indebted to?

I began to think of all the people that have taught me, supported me, sustained me and guided me on the path, even to this day. I reflected on the fruit that, by God’s grace alone, my life and ministry have born. I lamented the ways that my life and ministry were compromised by the narcissism that I engaged in. I began to imagine the choking off of possibilities by the fear, the approval seeking and the move toward unhealthy self-protection. Into this awareness the Spirit thrust the Parable of the Wheat and the Tares. There was an immediate, physiological response that was profound. It took my breath away! I realized that yesterday was harvest time. The weeds that were sown in my earliest days and could not be removed without doing damage to the plant could now be safely pulled and thrown into the fire! This image was powerful and altered my perception, but for several minutes I remained out of breath. I wasn’t scared, per se, but it did have my attention. When I reached the destination where I had intended to write and reflect, a hymn came to me…"Breathe of my breath of God, fill me with life anew. That I may love what thou wouldst love and do what thou wouldst do.” Indeed, grace is my constant companion…a dept that God freely carries in order for me to be the person that God created me to be. My breath was restored. My life is restored.

A Fresh Look at My Journey

My postings have been pretty sparse in recent months. Three months ago, during Week 5 of my Academy experience I was confronted with a truth about myself and my family that shook me to the core. For years I knew that my family was dysfunctional and that the bulk of the dysfunction orbited my dad. I had made assumptions about why my dad lived and related the way he did, but three months ago those assumptions came crashing down.

With the help of a trusted friend who is a therapist, I was able to recognize that my dad presents the classic behavior of a serious personality disorder. As I read more about the disorder, learned that it was largely volitional and looked more closely at the impact that being brought up in that environment had on me I became increasingly angry. I was angry at my dad and I was angry with myself. I saw significant chunks of my life, my relationships and my ministry adversely impacted by my choices and fears that were shaped by the influence of my dad and his disorder.

I was hurting in ways that I had never hurt before. I knew that I needed to be healed. Through my experiences in the Academy I could sense God at work bringing that healing. I had expectations of what I wanted it to be. As I shared my expectations of God's healing with a trusted colleague and friend, little did I know that by morning's end it would all change. The following is my journal entry from that life-changing morning.

“I had hoped for and prayed for an experience of healing that would provide me with a safe place to stand. As I have opened myself to grace I was still setting terms. I could sense that God was going to do a new thing in me this week. I hoped it would be something that would help me get over the anger that I still harbor toward Dad. I hoped I could learn forgiveness of self for the ways that I still act out of his example and influence. I was looking for a safe place to stand so that I could do battle with the demons of my past that are still bound to pop up from time to time. Then came the question: ‘Where have you experienced grace?’

The grace came when I realized that God did not fulfill my hope…but God did answer my prayer. I was looking for a quick resolution for something that developed in a lifetime. I suppose, at least subconsciously, I was looking to avoid the hard work of healing and transformation. In the end, I was looking to be set free from the pattern of avoidance that perpetuated the problem from which I needed to be healed. OUCH! Thanks God!!

Healing is not a place to stand that provides an advantageous battle ground. The answer to my prayer is the acceptance that the healing I seek is part of my lifetime journey of faith. It is a journey in which grace is my constant companion. It is a journey taken with a community of caring and accountability. It is a journey of vulnerability during which I won’t be able to count on having the most advantageous ground to fight from when the demons come. Therefore it is fundamentally a journey of trust. This is a journey I can take, not because of any particular ability that I possess. I take this journey without the benefit of a map. I take this journey with no pretense of leadership or control. I take this journey willing to take God’s hand and be led.”

Putting Down Roots

In worship a couple of weeks ago I spoke of prayer as a way of putting down roots into God wherever we happen to be. I used the illustration of a Banyan tree to make the point. In particular, I had in mind the Banyan tree that has stood on the grounds of the Old Courthouse of Lahaina on the island of Maui. This is an amazing tree! Planted in 1873 the tree now covers nearly 2/3 of an acre. Needless to say it is a sight to behold. The pictures included in this posting were taken when I visited in 2005.

This Banyan tree illustrates a truth about prayer that has taken hold in my life and faith. As this tree continues to spread out covering so much ground the branches end up further and further away from the roots. To overcome this distance, presumably, the tree will drop roots down from the branches that seek out the nourishment of the ground below. When the roots reach the ground and take hold in the life giving soil they solidify and thicken they become not only sources of nourishment but also strong support for the ever expanding tree.

In my life of prayer there is great value to this image. If my life was to cover but a little area, like most coniferous or deciduous trees I would remain close enough to my roots so as to keep nourishment close. However, the tree of my life is anything but modest in scope. I think the image of the Banyan tree speaks so deeply to my experience because like it, my life seems to take off with abandon in every direction. I also realize that I need all the support that I can get as I move farther and farther from my root, the core of my being. Continuing to put down roots for nourishment and support as my life ventures out in every direction is not simply essential. I’ve come to discover that deep and vibrant prayer, sinking down roots into the nourishment of God’s grace and presence, is not just vital. It is the difference between life and death.

Each day I grow deeper into this pattern of prayer that is more than simply something I do, I learn that it is the grace that I receive from God in return that enables me to reach out, live and grow in faith.

Remembering Who I Am

I love the sound of running water. The sound of the small table top fountain in my office provides a soothing background soundtrack to my day. Summer evenings in my backyard are often taken up next to the small pond complete with waterfall. The sound of water flowing is a powerful reminder of who God has shown me to be.

I’ve always enjoyed the sound of running water. One day, I will have a baptismal font in our Sanctuary that features running water. There is such a strong connection for me between water and baptism. In general, I will seek out whatever opportunities I can to touch water and remember my baptism. Like my United Methodist colleagues, I don’t believe that re-baptism is necessary, but frequently remembering our baptism (or that we have been baptized) is a vital part of growing in faith, spirituality and discipleship.

Lately though, there has been some movement for me at the core of this experience. For most of my life, I’ve been quite uncomfortable with the idea of crossing myself (ala the Roman Catholic tradition). I understand the act of crossing as a convenient way to remember the means of Christ’s sacrifice and the Holy Trinity, but it always seemed so perfunctory. However, in the last month, as I’ve touched the water in my office or the water at the entrance of the sanctuary at the monastery I often visit, I find my self drawn to crossing myself. As I engage in this act, I’m not specifically thinking about the Holy Trinity. Instead I’m remembering that in the waters of baptism and my subsequent call to ministry I’ve been claimed by and for the cross of Christ. It is this claim that must define who I am and how I view my ministry and the world.

What is earth shaking for me is not the simple realization of this truth. I’ve known this for a very long time. The shaking comes from deep within my spirit. I’m claiming this not as an intellectual truth or belief, as it is something that is simply attached to me. I’m experiencing this truth at the deepest level of whom I am and who I am with God. I realize more deeply than I ever have before that I come to the font, the table, the pulpit, the sick bed and to the manger not as a spectator but as a participant. I belong there not because of my choice but because of God’s choice of me.

What I’m finding is that this deep and deeply personal transformation that is happening in me is continuing to well up and spill over into every aspect of my life and ministry. Distractions and detours still come up from time to time, but the durations are shrinking and I’m more quickly finding my way back to the path. Remembering who I am at such a deeply spiritual level and the ability to touch this truth is keeping me and drawing me ever closer to Christ.

The Difference Between Being Productive and Being Faithful

Here I sit, dutifully typing this posting an hour before my final appointment of the day. As I bask in the afterglow of a day in which I was able to cross off a lot of items on my task list, I’m reflecting on the changes in my spirit that have increased by motivation and discipline to have a day like this. I can hear the voice of God speaking to me about the difference between productivity and faithfulness.

Task planning for me has always been drudgery. I just don’t like it. As one who has raised flying by the seat of my pants to the level of spiritual giftedness, I would often wonder why I should bother. Yea, I know…not very mature. GUILTY! This is something about which the Lord has been working me over for a several months now. Until recently I’ve been working toward a change of attitude regarding task planning, with only marginal results. There has still been an obstacle. Without getting into the gory details of how, the Lord blasted the obstacle. Since I was a lot closer to the obstacle than I would have imagined, I got pretty singed in the process (but that is a different story).

From this experience, the Lord has given me the vision of a clear difference between being productive and being faithful. In many respects it is rather simple to be productive. Have a vision, establish goals, clarify a strategy of different tasks that will provide measurable results and follow through on the strategy. Go simply and quickly from A to B to C to D and you wind up at the end. Production made easy. However, if we’re talking about discipleship and more so professional ministry there is a significant wrinkle to the equation.

When our emphasis is on accomplishing a preconceived (and even well conceived) action plan it is easy to become very heavily invested in the outcome of the plan. The more heavily invested we become in a preconceived outcome, the easier it is for us to ignore a variety of other needs and possible outcomes that don’t fit within our expectations. Very soon, even ministry plans become wrapped around our personality and ego. As disciples called to follow Christ we are constantly being reminded that ministry isn’t about us.

When we seek to be faithful, we seek to empty our self before God. This doesn’t mean that we completely divest our self from the ministry we do. We do invest our passion for Christ. We do invest our passion for God’s reign. We do invest our deep desire to be an instrument of Christ’s peace. What we do not invest is our ego, our sense of self-worth or our feelings of self-importance. I’m being drawn to apply this truth into even the most “mundane” task. I can see how to empty myself in the face of such a task so that I don’t resent the task as a waste of my time. Instead, I’m learning how to see such things as pieces of the larger whole that is my call to servant ministry.

Learning to empty our self is wrapped up in prayer. As we learn to pray in silence, to engage in meditative or contemplative prayer, we learn to step out of the limitations of self and ego that would obscure our experience of God. Learning a rhythm of prayer that allows for the lifting of self, of our needs, the needs of those around us, our fears and anxieties and then trusts God enough to step outside of self enables to more clearly see the limitations of self that limit our ability to be faithful in ministry.

Working the Field

This is a bit of a departure from routine…

It began as the smallest of patches…the tiny parcel of my life where Christ was at work. At first Jesus only used others as the tools to break up the soil of my life, clean out the debris and fertilize my soul and prepare me for planting. The first harvest did bear fruit and yet Christ dreamed of more for me. Wider and more abundant harvests were what He had in mind. Jesus began to push out the boundaries of this little plot of land. In this expanded plot the process of clean-up, fertilizing and planting continued. In due season, the harvest came and all of Jesus’ work, and the work of so many others was rewarded with greater abundance and a pleasing sweetness.

In God’s time I awoke to what Jesus was doing in me. By His grace and teaching he sharpened me to turn the soil deeper, bring out the rocks and obstacles and bring up the richness that had been created in my life. With each new season of preparation Jesus pushed out the boundaries still further. As the parcel of my life grew, the seed He planted never ran out. The Master Planter always had enough. The harvests began to grow and after each harvest Jesus would share his plans for the next year’s planting. Now, we are partners in the work of tending my field. There is no fear left, occasionally some anxiety, but nothing that passes for fear.

My small patch has now become a vast plantation. It bears its fruit in due season according to the grace of God. How something is different! It is no longer enough for me to work my own field. It is time to go with Jesus and be a laborer with him in someone else’s field. It’s time for me to share with others what has been given to me.

The Seven Year Itch

It hit me recently that I’m starting my seventh year in my current church. I realized that I haven’t been in the same place for seven years since I was a teenager. Furthermore, this is the longest appointment of my ministry. That was somewhat startling for me. Even though I’m not itching to leave (I hope to be here for many years), I’m realizing that there is something different about a seventh year for me. It’s a little unsettling because I’m forging new ground, but at the same time there is a certain sense of exhilaration.

This morning as I was spending time with God I had a moment where I looked back on the year that has been. I looked back from a good place, a peaceful place from which I’ve known and experienced and ever deepening awareness of God’s presence. There was a brief moment where the question “why did it take so long?” floated into my consciousness. This is not the first time that I’ve had that thought. My learning curve has been so steep the last year that this particular question has been an almost constant companion. I learned to live in this question and instead of it producing anxiety, recrimination and guilt it has become an open door through which I’ve learned to recognize God’s hand in the intricate weaving of my life. I know now that all of the seemingly disparate events and circumstances in my life have been joined together by grace to form something extraordinary. Even the painful experiences, those marked by rejection and failure, have added something special to the picture by their contrast. God has indeed made something beautiful out of my life in spite of my best efforts to buck the trends, second guess and just generally not pay attention.

So, back to this morning…as I looked back from this vantage point bathed in grace I could see all of the different pieces of last year form this beautiful whole. It looked almost like one of those cool computer animations. I could see the pieces move. As the picture of the last year came together I began to look farther back in my life. I wanted to see where this all started. I was looking for square one. Methodically I looked back over my life hoping to find that one time, that one experience where it all began. I was looking for that day of new birth. While I was disappointed that I couldn’t find square one, I realized that this simply meant that there was no end to the string. I celebrated the realization that there was no time in my life (let alone my conscious memory) where God was not at work weaving this unique tapestry that is my life. Even when I remember my confirmation, when I made my profession of faith in Jesus, I realize that this blessed moment was a culmination and the weaving of my life to that point.

I suppose that the question of why certain things in my life, my faith and my understanding seem to take so long to be recognized will always be part of my life. Maybe that’s God’s way of keeping me from taking too much for granted. I hope and pray that when those times do come up in my life I will remember the picture that God painted for me this morning.

Surviving the Flash Flood

By a strange twist of grace I find myself back in the place where my journey toward ordination took a huge leap forward. I am spending three days at the Passionist Retreat Center at the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains. This is the place where, in 1988, I was interviewed by the Conference Board of Ordained Ministry and recommended for Deacon Ordination and Probationary Membership in the Annual Conference. It was a daunting time and a very humbling time. Once of the most cherished memories of that experience was taking a hike back into the dry wash that lets out of the mountains nearby the Center. All of us who had been recommended for Deacon’s Ordination went for a walk and forged bonds of friendship that sustained us in those early years of ministry. In addition to that cherished memory, today, the wash holds a new and very different image.

If you’ve followed my blog the last few months you’ve noticed that the postings have been a bit lean both in content and frequency. The last few months have been pretty arid for my spirit. I’m not sure that I can account for how I became so dry, in fact I’m not sure I need to account for it. It was a dry time. I’ve come to understand from reading the desert mothers and fathers that dry times will come and go. To use another image, the dark night of the soul is a frequent companion on our spiritual journey.

I’ve experienced enough grace and enough assurance of God’s presence in the last year that I wasn’t freaked out by this period of barrenness. I knew that these times would come and go. It didn’t make it any less dry. It didn’t dull the impact of feeling less of God’s presence and more of God’s absence. I still lamented the sense of spiritual isolation I was experiencing. I missed the feeling of God walking in the garden of my life. (I should clarify that I don’t believe God was absent…I know God was there. I simply was not in a place where I could experience God’s presence as joy) Thankfully, one of the things that this period didn’t do was wear down my senses. In the last week or so I could sense a reawakening of my spirit. I was emerging from this barren time as the first gentle drops of autumn rain fell in my life. The dry and thirsty soil of my spirit came back to life.

The dry washes in my life were laying in wait for the torrent of water that was about to barrel through. These washes were unable to fulfill their primary purpose of facilitating the movement of grace through my life. They lay in wait unable to generate by sheer force of will the grace that would move through them. Though the falling rain of God’s grace was felt first as small drops in my life, above me, just out of my sense it was raining buckets and cascading down. The flood gates of God’s ever presence had opened up, my parched spirit was satisfied and what had just a few days ago felt stagnate has now roared to life. Today I sense with renewed clarity the power of God’s Spirit blowing through my life. I’ve learned to appreciate the barren time, even though it had its feeling of heartache and separation. That barren time was a time of preparation for what God is bringing next in my life, my spirit and my ministry.

Be prepared, hold onto hope, if you can identify one of these dry washes in your life where grace may have once freely flowed, it will flow again. Even it seems now that you are in an intractable drought, droughts don’t last for ever. Just as the rains eventually come, so too will God’s grace. Your spirit will spring to life once more and your life will be renewed.

Starting Over or Starting Again

The last few weeks seem to have been nonstop. Aside from a week of vacation (in Maui, very relaxing) I’ve been on the go. This morning as I paused to do my devotion (a far too rare event in recent weeks), I got hit with a stark realization. It felt as though I had suddenly regained consciousness, as if I’d been walking around unconscious for a number of weeks. This was a powerful image. It reminded me of the insidious nature of a life that becomes too busy and unbalanced. It was troubling for me to realize that all of the progress that I’d made, to that point, in having my time with God be intentional and sacrosanct crumbled (if only temporarily) in the onslaught of a too-busy life. It was a time of lament as I came to terms with the things in my life that edged God out of the center.

While I have spent a fair amount of time today mulling over the last few weeks, I’ve not wallowed in feelings of guilt. God poured out grace. In times past when I’ve gone through this cycle of attention and lack of attention I’ve often been left with the feeling of starting over. I’ve had times when I felt like I had to start over, from square one, after this period of inattention to my spirit. This feeling would often inspire a fair amount of guilt. Worse still, I’d feel pretty stupid for feeling like I was having to go back and learn lessons and do things that I’d done many times before. The double-whammy in this is it has often taken me longer to reengage in my devotional practices because I didn’t want to confront the feelings of guilt and stupidity that came with thinking that I had to start over.

I sense that my feelings are probably not unique. I don’t know too many people who relish the idea of constantly starting over. I suspect that it is not in our nature to run in small circles in our life. I don’t know too many people who embrace the idea of living in a “habi-trail”…you know those small tanks with tunnels and wheels that make up the domesticated habitat of mice and other small rodents.

The gift that God gave me this morning is that this regaining of consciousness doesn’t mean that I’m starting over. I’m simply starting again. Semantics? I suppose you could make that argument; however I don’t think so. To say that I’m starting over suggests that everything that I’ve experienced in my life with God, all the things that I’ve shared in this blog had somehow reached an expiration date because they lay fallow for a season. Furthermore, this would suggest that the Spirit’s work in my life was somehow not eternal but temporal and unable to withstand action or inaction. It might even suggest that during the times that I might become too distracted to pay attention to my ongoing life with God that God takes a vacation from me. I just can’t buy that.

No, I believe that I’m starting again…Dusting off the pieces and picking up where I left off. The pieces might be a little dull. A few of the pieces might need a little oil. One or two may not fit well because they’re a little parched. But, all the pieces are still there. In fact, if I’m truly paying attention, I may reflect on the causes and nature of this “season away” and discover that there are things to learn that might help me prevent or get on track more quickly from these times of inattention. Who knows…upon reflection I will very likely discover that even though I may not have been diligently paying attention to God, I’ll be shown the evidence that God was paying attention to me. That is my hope.

Swimming in the Mystery

As I reflect on the last year and the renaissance of spirituality that I’ve experienced, I can’t help but marvel at the ways that I’ve experienced God and how my perspective of the world, myself and my ministry have been transformed. I’ve come to terms with the indefinable mystery of spirituality. I know that I am simply not able to describe the nature of my relationship with Jesus with the same precision (if you would call it that) that I might describe my understanding of who Jesus is (Christology). This is a difference for me and a striking one at that. So what is a theologian to do when trying to describe the indescribable? While words and concepts may not be up to the task, I have discovered the power of memory, metaphor and image to describe the mysteries of spirituality.

The image of swimming in the mystery of Christ’s presence in my life is an image that is rooted in childhood memory but speaks so powerfully to what I’ve experienced in the last year. Before moving to California at age 15, we lived on a small private lake in Michigan named Jeffrey Lake. Up to the time we moved west the lake had always been a part of my life as the house that we lived in had been built by my grandparents in the mid 1950s. This beautiful little lake was always quiet as no motorized boats were allowed on it.

Summers at the lake were life-giving. There was a small raft just off shore that made for a wonderful swimming platform. The lake itself was clear and pristine. A rock dropped off the raft could be seen for 20-30 feet before it disappeared into the murky depths. The lake itself was very deep with a soft bottom, so no one was really sure how deep it was. Through the years people who drove cars out onto the winter ice when it was too thin, would lose there car forever. In all the years my family was there, I don’t ever remember something being recovered. The water on the top layers, when heated by the summer sun, made for excellent swimming. By the time I was a teenager I could swim across the lake and took great pride in the accomplishment. As I swam across the warm surface waters of the lake I was often surprised with a spout of cool water rising from one of the many springs that fed the lake. As shocking as it was, it was always a joy. Only about half the shoreline was developed, leaving much of the lake a wild mystery occupied by swamp and forest, lily pads and giant bullfrogs, all manner of teeming creatures including water moccasins. To explore these wild edges in the family paddleboat was always an adventure for me. Even though there was a lot of unknown and even some danger around the edges and below the surface of this charming little lake I knew it as a place of comfort and peace.

In the last year, as I have explored and been challenged by a deeper spirituality and a more profound relationship with the risen Christ, it’s as if I’ve returned to the time of summertime swims in Jeffrey Lake. As I explore the edges of my relationship with Christ it is with that spirit of adventure and discovery. I know that I will find things that may challenge me and even create discomfort within me at the edges of my faith. I also know that there are depths to this experience that are beyond comprehension. However, I also know that the waters are warm and inviting, even with the occasional burst of cold water that comes unexpectedly I am comforted in its normalcy. Even though I feel now similar to how I felt when I swam across the lake for the first time, feeling that sense of conquering the lake, I know that I’ve only just begun to swim in the mystery of Christ’s presence in my life.