Finding the Christ in Hidden Places

I ministered the funeral of D. last week, a 94 year old woman. When I first met D. she was at home, but over time she was forced to reside in a nursing home. Most of D.'s family had died, but she was not alone. Her best friend (who also had died several years ago) had a son (J.) who took it upon himself to care for her. J. is single, but, when not at work, he diligently cared for D., even as as her health failed, and he was with her when she died. This is one of those small stories about little people which most often goes untold, but which teaches us so much about true faithfulness, loyalty and the essence of discipleship.

When I complimented J. about his care giving he pushed back and told me that he had done nothing extraordinary; he felt like D. was a second mother. I accepted his response and I noted that his naivete was honest but misguided. In my experience his years of sacrifice for someone not of his own are rare indeed. I also decided that my cynicism is also misguided, and that there may be this kind of care giving occurring all around me. I hope this is true.

Worms in the Heart

Of late I have been grappling with God’s providence and the worms that evil and meanness leave in the heart. First, God does not do or cause evil. (I say this as a belief statement -- one that cannot be proven) This makes me not a Calvinist, so called, but surely there must be a Calvinists out there who does not believe God is the cause of all actions. But, perhaps not. Second, God is at work in his world -- it it his world after all -- even when I cannot see that work. Third, God can take my decisions -- whether they be good or evil -- and create out of them the future that he desires. Chance meetings are not so chancy when the Almighty gets done with them. Decisions I make out of self-interest (are their any other kind?) are somehow the materials God uses to paint his masterpiece in the life of another. Finally, when someone attempts to harm another, adding suffering on top of suffering, God can take the hammer and chisel to the blisters and scabs and create something new -- like Joseph feeding a family from the life once betrayed by his brothers.

But, does God always bring good out of evil? Perhaps, but good we are unable to see up front because we do not have the ability. Perhaps this kind of good comes out in the ooze of life but we need special equipment to see it.

I’m praying today for a young man who has been in a wheelchair most of his life. He’s had a rough couple of weeks. Where is the good here, God? But the Almighty comes back with a silence marked by sadness -- he is suffering with this young man, and a silence that it is marked by patience -- he is ministering even though I cannot see it, and in a way that will be closeted until the kingdom comes. So be it...

New Mercies Everyday

In 1993 theologian George Lindbeck offered his reminiscences of Vatican II. Lindbeck, a Lutheran, was one of 60 "delegated observers" to the proceedings. (see The Church In A Postliberal Age)

He tells the story of how Pope John XXIII offered the observers a private audience at the beginning of the second three month session, where he shared a homily. Lindbeck said, "He spoke on some favorite words of his from scripture, 'the mercies of the LORD are new every morning,'" saying that he had experienced their truth throughout his life. Lindbeck recalls this as a happy occasion, but, of course, none of them knew that the Pope was a dying man.

The text come from Lamentations 3.22, 23, the full reading being:

3:22

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.

3:23

They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

3:24

I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him." (NRSV)

These are good verses for a dying Pope, a struggling pilgrim, and maybe even a pastor's blue Monday. A hard day yesterday, perhaps only low energy available for today, one needs to be reminded that the Father is faithful (even when we cannot be), and his grace is sufficient (for his strength is made perfect in our weaknesses). We may be consumed, but his compassion extends and his love blossoms within and we are therefore, somehow, saved.

This meshes with today's responsorial Psalm:

Ps 124:1b-3, 4-6, 7-8

R. (8a) Our help is in the name of the Lord.

Had not the LORD been with us–

let Israel say, had not the LORD been with us–

When men rose up against us,

then would they have swallowed us alive,

When their fury was inflamed against us.

R. Our help is in the name of the Lord.

Then would the waters have overwhelmed us;

The torrent would have swept over us;

over us then would have swept

the raging waters.

Blessed be the LORD, who did not leave us

a prey to their teeth.

R. Our help is in the name of the Lord.

We were rescued like a bird

from the fowlers' snare;

Broken was the snare,

and we were freed.

Our help is in the name of the LORD,

who made heaven and earth.

R. Our help is in the name of the Lord.

But notice, the Lamentation text reminds us that we also must decide to wait on the LORD. I take this to be a reference to prayer -- especially if prayer is defined as clearing off space in our lives so that we might focus on the Father. For it is in the prayer moment when we, perhaps silently, (perhaps desperately) offer our weary heart, harassed by circumstances, to him who knows us better that we know ourselves.

That We All May Be One

"I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me." (John 17:20,21) 

These words always trouble me. How can we present the reality of the Jesus we proclaim if we, as followers of this Jesus, cannot find a way to hold onto our distinctives without continuing to allow them to be walls of division?

I grew up in a community of faith where it was literally preached that if you do not walk with this particular denomination you were not walking with Jesus. This, of course, was a long time ago, but I cannot help but think that things haven’t changed much. We are more sophisticated, so that we are able to stiff-arm people as we smile kindly and offer soft words, but it’s a stiff-arm none the less.

Our church practices what some have called open communion, which means if you are a follower of the Jesus-way you are welcome to partake of the LORD’S Table, but we do not accept another church’s baptism unless it is the same mode -- immersion, and the same meaning -- believers baptism. These are our distinctives, yet, there are times this will not fit the moment. 

Several years ago I was called upon to visit a dying man. He was a relative of a church member who had asked to see a clergyman. When I made the call several family members were there, but as soon as I introduced myself they left me alone in the small apartment with the man who was ill.

He told me his story -- I could tell he had given much thought to what he wanted to say because he got right to it -- explaining that he had decided to follow the ways of the Christ as a youngster, but that he had never been baptized, and he wanted me to baptize him right then!

Of course, immersion was not possible, the man was too sick, which meant I had a decision to make. It really wasn’t very difficult to see what needed to be done. I got a towel and a small pitcher of tap-water from the kitchen, and while I held his head up from his sick bed I baptized him in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. I saw relief crease his face, and I felt something as well. In fact, it was so sacred a moment that I never gotten over it. There, alone in that room, the spirit of Jesus visited us both. His faith was made complete and somehow so was mine.