All posts by ljmonson

The hour has come

Behold, my hour has come.

The Passover meal is set before us in the place I have chosen.  Passover is to be a celebration of the deliverance of my people in the face of desperate persecution and slavery. Judas had made his exit, leaving a cloud of speculation and disappointment. There seems to be a marked change in the countenance of the remaining eleven. Somber, yet inquisitive eyes, all trying to understand.  Trying to figure out the next chapter.  They don’t really understand it all.  I have taught so much in such a short time.  But they don’t yet understand.

I recline here with my friends, my companions for well over three years.  I love them.  I have cared for them. I have fed them from God’s abundance.  Buy my example of care and affection, I have tried to explain the purpose of my life and of their lives. They do not understand the time is at hand.

To demonstrate to these special men the love I have for them, I remove my cloak and overshirt and wrap myself in a towel.  All the while, they stare and whisper.  With a slow deliberation, I pour water into a bowl and I move to each person in turn and wash their feet.

Of course, Peter, my rock, my skeptical fisherman would not let it go.  My servanthood lesson could not go unchallenged. Looking down at my attempt to show my love for him he stated, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

I looked up into Peter’s impetuous and alarmed eyes and said, “Peter, someday you will understand.”  You see, my hour had come.

In his own rough scratchy voice and pulling back his feet from my hand, Peter says, “You shall never wash my feet.”  After much discussion and further objections, the deed was completed.

“Do you really understand what I have done for you?”  You see my hour had come.  It was the place of no turning back.  No more would there be laughter and fishing. No more would there be a few fish turning into baskets full.  No more walking along the Sea of Galilee.  It was the first moment of the end of my earthly life.  My hour had come.

I am filled with emotion and deep feelings.  I lean back at that table of now somber men and remember the beginning of it all.  I remember the hour I spoke, and the world came into being.  The hour I walked in the cool of the evening with Adam.  I was there in the beginning.  I was there witnessing all the trails of tears of Israel. I had to come to be a part of my treasure. And now my hour had come.

I close my eyes to see Mary and Joseph.  I remember well the time I told my mother, “My hour had yet not come.” Three years and it is now over. I am now at the time where it is to end.  The end of my purpose.  My purpose to walk, talk, understand, care, hope, be disappointed, to teach, be misunderstood, to be hailed, and to be criticized. It was time to give up and let go.  My hour had come.

From that first hour, this world has made its path around the sun.  It has been the home of my greatest treasure.  Yet it has been corrupted by war and famine and disease.  My greatest treasure has darkened the surface with suffering, pain, and hate.  They have wallowed in despair, never understanding the true nature of the purpose.

This despair and pain were unavoidable.  It came with my gift of freedom. That freedom became license.  That license became the darkness.  My greatest treasure became without worth.  No money would ever buy the redemptive value of my treasure.  I had to come and pay the price.  My hour has come.

The darkness will be even more intense.  Man will always be cruel.  The poor will always be on the street corners asking for one more coin. There will droughts, famines, war, pestilence, hate, disease.  Yet, in the middle of it all will now be a bright shining light.  There will be a hope.  There will be redemption offered.  My hour has come

Someday a new hour will come, and I will plunge a fiery sword into the very innards of the earth.  It will split like an overripe fruit.  This world of pain will pass away. It will be swallowed up and obliterated. The mountains, seas, oceans, plains, deserts, forests will all pass away.  Someday that hour will come.  But as I listen to the hushed tones of my friends and realize I must teach some more.  I still have work to do.  I must give them my words of life.  To help them understand the end is near.  I must tell them, “My hour has come.”

Discernment

If ever there was a person that looked for the little things in life it was Jesus.  He had that habit about Him.  He is full of sympathy and sensitivity.  I can only imagine walking the dusty and dirty streets of Palestine with eyes flashing back and beyond, always looking, always seeking, always noticing.  When He entered the house of Peter, Jesus noticed his Mother-in-law was down with a fever. Matt 8:14. No one needed to tell Jesus of the problem.  No one slipped up to his ear warning the dinner might be late because one of the servers was sick. He just noticed.  He perceived the situation and went straight to her and touched her hand.

Jesus walking with the disciples noticed everything.  He noticed the patched garments of the children, the long lines of men out of work.  He noticed the great and the small.  He noticed the hypocrisy of the priesthood. He noticed a sore back from fishing all night and showed where the easy fishing was.  In the middle of one of his greatest sermons, He stopped and took notice that they “were hungry.” In the shadow of one of the greatest architectural masterpieces in that part of the world, the Temple, He stopped and noticed a woman putting in her last coin. He noticed the uneasiness of the keeper of the purse at the last supper. He noticed the women at the cross amid the terrible pain.

It was His habit.  It was his character.  It was one of the characteristics of the life of Jesus.  It is close to the center of his being.  God notices.

Are you suffering in silence, God notices.  If you can’t seem to stretch that last dollar to the end of the month, God notices.  If you can’t seem to find the light at the end of the tunnel of your life, God notices.  If the kids are driving you crazy, God notices.

And we too must take notice.  To walk through life with a glazed over, blank stare is to miss all of life’s finer adventures and to miss the very things God would have us see.  If we blunt our hearts to the suffering and heartache of those around us, we will lose the God-like gift of noticing.

God’s gift to us is noticing and our gift to those around us is noticing.   We need that gift of seeing the small, to see the currents within the grand sweeping river of life.

It is a God-given perception of the small.  It is noticing.

Comments?

Viewpoint and disagreements.

With apologies to Dr. Henry T. Hodgkin a medical doctor and Quaker missionary in the early 1900’s, I wish to share with you a philosophy that he wrote just prior to the first World War.  He was a true pacifist and was feeling the brunt of the national ardor of becoming part of the War of all Wars. It speaks to me as what a Christian attitude should be.  I have taken a little license to paraphrase his text to bring common vernacular and understanding. It is primarily what kind of attitude one should have when confronted by someone with a differing opinion.

  1. I will always seek to discover the best and strongest points to any brother’s position.
  2. I will give credit for sincerity and persistence in opinion.
  3. I will try to avoid classifying him and assuming that his position is only because of a class or membership of which they belong.
  4. I will emphasize our agreements and convergence points.
  5. When others criticize, I will try to bring out favorable points.
  6. When there is misunderstanding, either I of him or he of me, I will go to him directly.
  7. I will seek opportunities to pray with him.
  8. I will try to remember that I may be mistaken and that God’s truth is too big for any one mind.
  9. I will never ridicule another’s faith.
  10. If I have been found criticizing another’s viewpoint, I will seek the first opportunity of understanding if my criticism is just.
  11. I will not listen to gossip and second-hand information.
  12. I will pray for those from who I differ.

Arguments rarely solve anything. It is when the rational and reasonable come together willing to listen and understand other points of view that change will happen.

Comments?

Insipid Salt

I’m no chemist, but one of the most stable substances in the world is salt.  The chemical bond is very tight. You see, sodium and chlorine are happy to become one and share their one electron. The life of the salt is very tight.  Mr. Sodium and Mrs. Chlorine are happily married.  They are like the happily married couple that just loves to be married, no matter what hits the fan. Little can separate them.

So what was Jesus talking about in Matthew 5:13?

“Let me tell you why you are here. You’re here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You’ve lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage”. (The Message)

 “You are the salt of the earth. But if salt becomes insipid, what can make it salt again? After that, it is fit for nothing, fit only to be thrown outside and trodden by the feet of men.” (Moffatt)

Jesus was talking believing followers which He calls blessed in the previous verses often called the Beatitudes.

The greatest danger which the body of believers called the church faces then and now, is to lose its tang, its zest, its cutting edge.  The Church will never die.  It is in no danger of falling on its face to a worship of the devil.  Ultimately good and God will prevail.  Never-the-less, there is an ever-present danger which lurks to snatch us unaware to become insipid. Merriam Webster defines the word insipid as: 1) lacking taste or savor, 2) lacking in qualities that interest, stimulate, or challenge; being dull, flat, ignored.

Jesus was warning to the church never to lose its bitingly Christian flavor. I just had a quantity of California Sushi rolls for lunch.  In the package was a large glop of oddly textured green material.  Some would say right away it is wasabi.  It is there to add zest and to add a juxtaposition to the mild sushi.  By the way, don’t take that whole thing and put it into your mouth.  But I digress.

What Jesus was looking for was a people with a zest, a tang, a flavor.  Jesus’ way of life was a stark contrast to the world around Him.  Jesus’ task was to add that zest that makes a difference.  A specific tang that anyone tasting it would immediately recognize it.  The only way to make salt insipid or worthless is to dilute it, to mix it with something that it is not meant to be mixed.   If we lose our tang, our zest, our taste of Godliness, if we become insipid, what good are we?

It is just too easy to sidestep the tough questions.  It is less risky to voice simple platitudes in the face of opposition. We can, and often do, straddle controversial issues and flee to a safety zone of non-committal.  It is salt that has lost its saltiness; insipid.

The Church started in this world with a cutting edge of the truth of Christ. It faced Roman culture and politics so peculiarly that it turned the world upside down.  Consequently, as it grew it became more reasonable, more sane, more strategic, more flat, less tangy, no distinctiveness. I don’t think that Jesus is happy with the adulterated salt of what goes by the name of Church.

I like that word, insipid.  A good word to ponder and concentrate upon.  Even better to think if it describes ourselves.

Comments.

Bubbles

“If I do this.”

If I drive an electric car, I will be making a difference to the polar bears.

If I live a good life, I will have good karma.

If I drive defensively, I will not get run over.

If I go to church once and while I will be accepted.

There was an invalid who every day would be found by a special place.  It had five great colonnades or walkways with alcoves on both sides.  They surrounded a great pool of water.  He had come there every day for thirty-eight years.  The common understanding was when the pool was disturbed by a visiting angel, the waters would start to bubble.  “If I am the first in the pool, I will be saved.

Year after year trying to be as close as possible so when the bubbles began he would roll into the healing water. Like himself, hundreds of sick, lame, blind, disadvantaged all depended upon the bubbles.  They put their trust in the bubbles.  They had faith in the bubbles.  The bubbles made all the difference.  The water no matter how cooling or inviting was not good enough; it had to have bubbles to be effective.

Every day was spent staring intently at the surface of the pool.  It was a danger just to blink and miss the first bubble as it disturbed the surface.  In our lives, we too wait anxiously for the next bubble in lives.  That next stirring will make the difference.

The malady of the day is the dependence upon the bubbles and not on the source of healing.  There have been great revivals, great outpourings of God’s Spirit on men.  These great stirrings have made a great difference. The great Reformation drew millions to a new faith-based belief.  The concept of evangelism crusades as espoused by Rev. Billy Graham gave place to millions of lives changed.  But these great stirrings were not little bubbles upon the pool.  They were great upheavals.  They were not choices of what is contemporary one moment and outdated the next.

Faith in bubbles is the problem.  If sing the right song in an easy key and repeat the verse repeatedly, I will be moved.  If we make the church more relevant, you will hear, “Here it is.  Here is the agitation that will turn people to God.  A well-orchestrated worship experience will save the church.”  “The bubble will be our cure.”

We tend to be polarized in our experiences.  When things are going well we have great things to praise God for.  When things are going poorly we have things to pray to God for.  They are both just disturbances in our lives.  And like the poor man at the pool, we are not saved by it.

It is all showman’s tricks.  It is all smoke and mirrors.  It is all bubbles.  It is trading a true faith in God to a faith in bubbles.  The man at the pool was saved not by the bubbling disturbance of the waters beneath the colonnade.  It was no external disturbance that would heal the wretched man.  What healed that invalid by the pool was a person. It is the advent of Jesus into the middle of our lives that provides the healing of spirit and of mind. By faith, we are saved.  Faith in the commander who said, “Pick up your mat and walk.”

The Kingdom of heaven does not come with the observation of the bubbles.

What do you think?

Danger of being institutionalized

There is a grand difference between being part of an institution and be institutionalized. But they seem to have been blurred in modern culture.  One definition for institution is provided by Dictionary dot com:

An organization, establishment, foundation, society, or the like, devoted to the promotion of a particular cause or program, especially one of a public, educational, or charitable character.

By that definition there should be no shame in calling a church, any church an institution.  It is a place where people are loved, nurtured, protected, heard and sustained.  The church has a responsibility to continue in these things.  An institution is a social mechanism for making a desirable experience easily repeatable and sustainable.

Football is an institution, Thanksgiving is an institution, so why the blurring of the lines between institution and be institutionalized?

Institutions, as we have seen are not a problem. The issue at hand is the corruption of the good of continuation and viability with the idea of a corrupt idea of institutionalization. An institution can enrich life.  But when the institution itself sees itself as only the mechanism and the goal is not the good but the continuation of the machine, it becomes institutionalized.  The method becomes more important than the product.  The system overshadows the purpose.  So how does this subtle change happen?  How does the church change from a vehicle for liberation and love to an engine of unchangeability and rigor?

The Pharisees of Jesus’s day were masters of this metamorphosis. They took the institution of the Sabbath, a weekly pause intended to renew the human spirit and turn in so imperceptibly into a life quenching list of prohibitions.  They took the idea of a coming Messiah and pointed it toward a mantra of things that had to be done to earn the coming presence of the Great King. The faith of Isaiah and Jerimiah degenerated into an engine of oppression. An engine with all the trappings the faithful.  A form of godliness without the power.

The church is an institution.  That is nothing to be coy about. It is your and my responsibility to keep our churches on an upward path.  A path of life-giving renewal. Remember that task is not as important as the people.

Comments?

Bias, intoloerance, judgement

For some this is old news, never-the-less, there seems to be a bias in what I see on TV.  Every show seems to want to out due the other in violence, sexual content, and even anti-Christian rhetoric. A couple of weeks ago one person on ABC stated, “It’s one thing to talk to Jesus. It’s another thing when Jesus talks to you… that’s called mental illness.”  There seems to be a tidal wave of prejudice and outright distain for conservative Christian belief.  But I contend that faith remains as the foundation to our civilization.

Prayer and listening to the urgings of God is a very large part of what makes the America which I love.  As it was for George Washington and through to our Vice President whom the “mental illness” jab was pointed. These prayers and listeners were the kind of people wo built our civilization, founded our democracies, developed our modern ideas of rights and justice, ended slavery, established universal education and now are in the forefront of the fight against poverty, prejudice and ignorance. And they are Christians.

To call yourself a Christian in our contemporary culture is to be showered by pity and a wry smile. Those who have a spiritual life are characterized as someone who needs to be re-educated or reprogramed. There is a soft-spoken, yoga posed, tolerance that looks to the next generation that will be taught the right way to think. And all the while they put bumper stickers on their Volvo with “Coexist.”

And that’s just for starters. If you are a Roman Catholic we’re accessories to child abuse, if we’re Presbyterian or Lutheran you are seen as intolerant to change and the world is predestined to be the way it is, if you are evangelicals we’re creepy obsessives who are uncomfortable with anyone enjoying anything more than decaffeinated coffee with your scone.

In a culture that prizes sophistication, non-judgmentalism, irony and detachment, it declares spiritually motivated lives as intolerant, naive, superstitious and backward.

The real story of today’s churches is a saga of millions of quiet kindnesses. They provide warmth, food, friendship and support for those who have the least to hope for.  The homeless, often in the grip of alcoholism, drugs, undiagnosed mental health problems, those whose lives have been torn apart and overwhelmed by multiple crushing blows are being helped and being helped by Christians.

Love as a gift.

Knit booties

In a small town in which I first Pastored, there is little that was not known by the population.  A good reputation can be lost a lot faster than a bad reputation can be repaired.  I needed the Church to be known as a place of caring. Faced with a need to tell the community that the church  cared and wanting the congregation to both buy into the idea and wanting to involve the congregation in the solution, I thought long and hard as to a methodology. There was only one hospital in town. Every baby born in the county took its first breath in The Clearwater County Hospital.

I asked the some of the ladies of the church to create something I could give to each newborn.  The solution was a pair of homemade knit booties.  We added a card from the church with good wishes and an invitation.

Before I knew it I was inundated with the most adorable knit booties you could ever want.  The ladies of the church bought into the idea that their wares which would be the first gift a new child would use.  I pumped up the knitting crew with ideas like “Booties from Jesus” and “Gifts from the Maji.”

We were going to do something out of the ordinary.  To give without any expectation. There seems to be an insidious thought pattern in the church.  A thought that there is a reciprocity timeline.  That is to say, if I do something nice for someone that person becomes obligated to respond in an appropriate manner and in an assumed appropriate time period. If I do good things I should be rewarded because now I deserve it.  One definition of karma is: moral law of cause and effect governing the future.   If I give you a compliment, you are expected to respond with either a self-deprecating comment or an equally gracious compliment in return.  If you receive a Christmas card the week before Christmas you have to make a mad dash to the Hallmark store and send one back immediately.  If I offer you half of my cookie you have to offer me some of your Cheetos. It is just common politeness. We make sure everyone gets equitable gifts for their birthdays, so when it is your turn you will get gifts in return.  The problem with this reciprocity mindset is it always seems to be accompanied by disappointment if the giver does not get gifted in return.

When you give someone a gracious compliment like, “you are a great speaker,” and they return with “I know that,” you are hurt.  We find ourselves wallowing in disappointment when our ample generosity is not met with the expected results.  The problem is not with the complement being not received, but it is our return expectation.  The issue was that we gave with a motive of reciprocity. The motive behind telling someone you like their new shoes is partly dictated by the reasonable expectation for them to tell you that you look good in your terrible shirt.  This mindset no matter how subtle ruins the true meaning of gift giving.  Though our intention is likely pure, we can unintentionally mar the beautiful experience of giving by focusing on what we will eventually receive in return.

When we let go of the notion that we deserve to receive gifts or actions or behaviors based on our giving, then and only then can be the kind of giving displayed by God.

When gifts are given laden down with expectations, they cease to be gifts and become units of exchange that is offered up for some future reward.

As those ladies gathered around together to do ministry they may have had grand expectations.  But the gift itself was love.

If you have trouble divesting yourself of your expectations, you may need to reflect upon the root of your inability to act in the true spirit of giving. Each time you make a gift ask yourself if there is something you hope to receive in return. You may be surprised to discover that you expect to be repaid with an easy life, financial windfalls, or opportunities.  We have to go beyond this.  The Church had to become a place of selfless generosity. And we did that by letting go of our expectations.

To integrate this most selfless form of generosity into the life of the church and even in the lives of individuals, you will have to let go of your need to be in control. Giving without expectation is letting go of the timetable, it is releasing the control of the outcome. Giving selflessly and without expectation eventually becomes a profound joy that stands alone, separate from any and all conditions.

We must rediscover the distinction between hope and expectation. Expectations are often characterized by unfulfilled desires. Expectation is about calculation. Expectation is manipulation of the response.  Expectation may not always be realistic.  Expectation has no surprise.  Expectation is often disappointed. Expectation is typically fixed and frozen.  It is inflexible and rigid.  It is unable to give or bend or to change. The worst part of expectations is what happens when we just don’t give them up.  We hold on to them as if they were gold. They infect and overwhelm us, like viral flu that simply will not go away. It consumes us like the plague.  We are unable to give them up.  We are not able to let them go.  Expectations change us.  They affect how we see the world around us.  Expectations start to rule our responses to everything in our lives.  Expectation is so rigid, we always respond negatively.  We become angry.  Sometimes unmet expectations cause us to even more force our expectations.

When little results were seen from our booty ministry, someone said, “If the booties were better constructed, or if the invitation was worded more eloquently we would get a better response.” Expectation was pushing out the hope and with it the joy.

Hope is much different.  Expectation is the assumption of success, false or not, hope is the wish for something to happen. Hope is about imagination. Hope is alive.  Hope responds.  Hope allows others to grow.  Hope is not limited by our experiences because it does not die when unmet. Hope is not directing the responses or the lack of response.  Hope is always realistic and can happen. Hope always comes with a surprise. Hope never results in disappointment. Hope admits uncertainty.  We may have to adjust our hopes but we can always keep hoping. Hope helps us to keep moving forward.  Hope fills with life.

When someone does not live up to our hopes, we can keep hoping for them because hope is flexible. We may adjust our hopes based on what we learned. We may lower our hopes realizing they were too unrealistic. What I learned from the God of Idaho and dozens of pretty bootees is, “There is no such thing as a false hope.”

I don’t know if a single booty ever changed the mind of a new mother and father to come to the church.  I don’t know if the plan was a good one.  I don’t know if sometime, in some place, the future a parent or even the child will pick up that first gift from the ladies at the Church of the Nazarene and have their life changed.  But I do choose to believe that no work, no effort given selflessly and in the name of Jesus is for naught. I choose to believe these special ladies, sometimes with sore hands and failing eyesight, did ministry.  They made an effort outside of themselves.  They felt part of the church.  They felt an inner joy in giving in the name of God.  They gave in hope.  And it is in these moments of joy that these lady saints enjoyed the very presence of God.  Love is always bestowed as a gift – freely, willingly and without expectation. We don’t love to be loved; we love to love.

Love is part of the human condition.

The Great Going

If you have been in the church for any length of time you have heard the admonition to “go out and get them.”  They are all based on Jesus saying, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”  Preachers through the church age have been pushing us out the door to “GO”.   We must be prepared with good shoes and running shorts to encounter the world and capture them.  The great commission becomes a message of coercion.

We are told to compel, capture, lasso, coerce, pressure, force others to come to church is the basis of their plea. Preachers for centuries have spent most of their time challenging and motivating the flock in the giant going. It reached a point that the action of movement was more important than the making of the commission. “You have to go before you can make,” it has been said.  So, with visions of a great posse of cowboys astride galloping horses, we go.  All without rhyme or reason to the direction, as long as we were moving.

At issue is the going has been the emphasis. Our calling is not a random movement.  The going proclaimed in the words of Jesus is not an order to go.  It is a plan of action for those individuals who are already going.  Going is an internal unction that comes with salvation. The Great Commission is for the followers already empowered.  The mandate is predicated on conversion.  Not great preaching, not great training, not motivational books; if you live within the grace of God you will already be going.

It is with this natural and spontaneously inspired unction we have a plan: make disciples.

Comments?

Let there be ORDER.

A clean desk simply means messy drawers.

Organization has never been my strongest attribute of character.  Once in a while I stop and try to get some semblance to order to my chaos. Today was the day I was to organize all my written sermons, ideas, thought starters, taxes, vehicle registrations, vacation plans, research, church notes, books, notebooks, music CDs, books, coats, hats, computer stuff, and the list goes on.  At least that was the goal.  I find myself stopping and reading it all. It is tough for me to throw away a magazine that is over a year old; I read it through one more time.  Another hour gone in my quest for the grand scheme of order.

Once organized, I tell myself, I will be able to find anything I want.  No more searching, no more quests for something that I know exists in my ethereal universe.

Then in the middle of it all, I ask myself, “Larry, what is the why of the effort?”  Order is the internal desire for organization, cleanliness, and routine.   It brings an inner feeling of stability.  It is a need for control of the uncontrollable.

My father was changed drastically by the second world war.  His life for three years was always in jeopardy.  He was regular Navy stationed on merchant ships crossing the Atlantic in constant fear of an unseen enemy in a submarine.  He brought that disorder of his very existence by controlling his personal space.  He often said to me when he came into my room as a child, “everything has a place, and everything should be in that space.”  Order for the moment created a space of control and with that little space was a sense of peace.

The desire for organization is there to find order amid my chaos. My desire, my inner urge is to overcome the lack of control that is exhibited in my office.  So here I sit writing when I should be sorting.  I wrote last month of the inner desire of curiosity.  The inner urge to know more.  But the negative side of curiosity is all the clutter it makes.  I must buy more computer memory and hard drive space to hold all my thoughts.  My curiosity is being squashed by my need to have order in my life.  If I don’t keep a handle on my chaotic disorganization, all the stuff I have accumulated in my curiosity will be a loss.

Desires are the reasons for doing.  They are the motives for my actions.  They are the reasons for my behavior. All ends are the result of my desire.  The very nature of my inner desires sets my path.  My path may not be your path.  My path is mine.  I may share the road with you once and while but look out and don’t trip over some of the things I not quite organized yet.

Comments?