Follow My Blog At It's New Home

Faithful followers, avid readers, sympathetic family members, and international community,

As of Sunday, April 17th I am no longer serving as Associate Pastor of Boulevard Presbyterian Church. Therefore I have moved my blogging to a new site I am very proud of.

Please visit & follow my new blog at:

pastorbrettswanson.com

This new site will feature articles, blog posts, featured content, and new section entitled "Live at Gobbler's Knob" which will feature observations and dispatches from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania - my new home. I hope you will check back often.

Peace,
Brett Swanson

www.twitter.com/bjswanson74

It's Official

Yesterday, April 10th I was officially voted in/accepted/etc. as the next Pastor of The Presbyterian Church of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania - home of Groundhog Day. It was an exciting, terrifying, incredible, humbling experience that left me without words (something of a rarity).

While Boulevard Presbyterian Church has known about my departure for sometime, I have waited to make it "Facebook Official" until this one hurdle has passed. I am thankful now to share this joy with all who will hear.

My last Sunday here at Boulevard Presbyterian Church will be this approaching Sunday, April 17th aka. Palm Sunday. At that point, I will stop blogging under the Boulevard Presbyterian Church blog where you are currently reading this. When a new online home is settled, I will make sure to let you know.

Peace and thank you for the support.

Finding New Favorites

If you are not familiar with West Virginia Public Radio's Mountain Stage then you should be. For the cost of a pizza I saw the Indigo Girls (the partial subject of an earlier blog post entitled Rowdy Ladies & Live Music ), and last Sunday I sat 7 rows back from the stage for Dar Williams, David Wax Museum, Raul Malo, and three of the greatest living musicians, Bela Fleck, Edgar Meyer, and Zakir Hussain playing as a trio. All in all, I am not sure there is a better "more for your money" concert experience than Mountain Stage.

When I bought these tickets for my wife's birthday, it was all about Dar Williams and Bela Fleck. Williams, with her incredible voice and wonderful lyrics, and Fleck, easily the most accomplished banjo player living. With these two on the same ticket, it was easy money & when we arrived at the venue I started thinking, "I hope she plays..."

Dar Williams, with her beautiful voice, didn't sing a single song I wanted her to play. While I am no super-fan and am certainly not familiar with her extensive catalog in a way that would have been happy to hear any of her works, I thought I would get at least one tune from my personal wish list. Alas there was nothing. Hopes were dashed when the final song closed. No encore. No The Christians and Pagans. No The Babysitter's Here. She closed with Hudson, a song I was hearing for the first time.

Normally, I would have said I was disappointed. Having an opportunity to get exactly what you want and not getting it seems to be a fair definition of disappointing. It was possible, she could have sung my songs. Not out of malice or an attempt to ruin my evening, Dar just didn't. Concert goers know what this is like. Yet, as it turns out, I wasn't too disappointed. Sure, I didn't get my songs but something else happened.

There is this band called David Wax Museum. They opened the show, and they are awesome. I didn't know much about them when I picked up the tickets. They, like a lot of acts on Mountain Stage, are the green beans to the pork chop that is the headliner. Well, as it turns out, I really like green beans, and when the pork chop isn't exactly to your liking, the side dishes are that much better. David Wax Museum made a fan out of me with their upbeat, original music, and the shear love they had for what they did. I bought their two albums yesterday.

Life never 100% of the time gives you what you want. You don't get everything all the time. This fact can make people bitter; hating the fortune of some while lamenting the disappointment in their own lives. When your best laid plans fall short, and your proverbial pork chop is dry, you can't help but be disappointed. There is no cure for failed expectations other than have no expectations to begin with, and that seems impossible.

What my concert experience re-confirmed for me is that expectations cannot crowd out an openness to what life, God, and others have in store. While Dar Williams didn't give me exactly what I want, David Wax Museum gave me something I didn't think I would find: a new favorite band. Being open, flexible, and willing to learn something new is the only way I know how to combat the disappointments of life. I will still hope I hear the songs I like. I will still hope that my favorite food is still on the menu, the book I want to read is at the library, and the exhibit is still at the art museum but in the event that the food, the book, and the art is gone, I will do my best to try something new, and be open to finding new favorites.

Sermon for March 27th - Christian Identity: Accepted

The following sermon was delivered on Sunday, March 27th and is a reflection on John 8:1-11. Footnotes and citations have been left out for purposes of blog publishing.

In college I was instructed to read Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. Thankfully it wasn’t the thousand page tome but an abridged version. I fell in love with the book, and read it in a weekend. Being that our scripture today carries with it so much silence, my mind fills the gap with Les Miserables. Like the woman caught in adultery, Jean Valjean is red handed and expecting swift judgment. He, similarly, stands silently before a servant of God, in our case a Bishop, who rejects the law of the land in favor of an abounding & mystifying grace. Hugo writes of the moment when the Bishop “buys” Jean Valjean, buys him from the imprisonment and hardship he is to endure as someone who stole silver from all places but a House of God, penning, “Jean Valjean opened his eyes & looked at the Bishop with an expression which no human tongue could describe.” I re-read those words and instantly attribute them to John the author of the Gospel, serving as narrator. I hear, “the woman who was brought before the crowd for judgment, opened her eyes and looked up at Jesus with an expression no human tongue could describe.” Like Valjean, our unnamed woman comes face to face with a sort of love that is an affront to the status-quo, and the law that would order and guide our days. This is a love that, I still stand silently before, like many of you.

I am a sinner from the soles of my feet to the top of my head, and while the Apostle Paul writes in First Timothy that he is “the worst” of all sinners, I think that I can give him a run for his money. Left to my own devices, I fear the good and turn to the easy. Amazing Grace has got me dead to rights, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.” I can say this now but it acknowledging the actual state of things wasn’t always easy. I have, from time to time, been like the guy who came up to me after his aunt or mother’s funeral (I can’t quite remember) and complained that singing Amazing Grace was offensive because the dearly departed was certainly no wretch.

I spent a great deal of my life trying to be perfect, not in the way the scripture tells us to be perfect as God is perfect , but perfect in the eyes of others. Applying for college, I coveted letters of reference from my Pastor that said I was a “good Christian”, from my coaches that said they were impressed with my commitment, from teachers that said I was a skilled student, and from anyone who could write that I was a wonderful human being. During my time in college and beyond I kept those letters in a binder and just about any stroll down memory lane included the affirmation those letters contained. I tied my worth to my ability to be a good friend, to always do what is right, and when others gave up, I selfishly pressed forward hoping to be like Sally Field and proclaim “you like me, right now, you like me!” Yet, as we all know, Sally’s moment fades away.

I have recently come across a poem To An Athlete Dying Young, that described it all eerily well. “The time you won your town the race, we chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. Today, the road all runners come, Shoulder high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town.” The poem continues, “Smart lad, to slip betimes away from fields where glory does not stay, And early though the laurel grows, It withers quicker than the rose.”

The unnamed woman brought before Jesus is a beloved child of God. She is a sinner, standing accused for a crime caught red handed, and according to the law she (along with the absent male) was to be taken outside the city gate and before all who gathered, the victim of her infidelity was to throw the first stone. If her intention was to be perfect, she failed. If her intention was to escape the consequences of her sin, she failed at that too. Jesus does not condone this woman’s sin nor ours because we cannot be relieved of the consequences of our sins. We must live with the fruits of what we have sown yet, in Christ’s love we can be relieved of the consequences of being sinners. Christ embraces this woman sins and all. Will her marriage be harmed? Most likely. Will she face scorn on the part of the community? Probably. Will her sins keep her from experiencing God’s love? Absolutely not.

The truth is, God is a sucker for screw-ups like me. Where the world withholds its love and acceptance for those deemed worthy and valuable, finding precious few to love, God does not seek value; God creates value through love. “It is not because we have value that God loves us; it’s because God loves us that we have value.” Sinners unite! We are the beloved children of God; accepted not only for who we are but what we are – the beloved children of a God who loves us, accepts us.

Allow me to close with a thought about stones. Symbolically the stoning of the accused was about rejection, ostracizing the sinner from your community, and literally the throwing of stones chased the life right out of a few. If you find yourself with a rock in your hand, you have a choice: do I use it as a tool of separation, judgment, and punishment, or can it be a building block? Stones large enough to deal deadly blows usually are large enough to have been included in walls and buildings during ancient times, and today we have the same opportunity. The energy and zeal spent all the world throwing stones and hating others that we are so convinced are different, sinful, or otherwise is a poor use of time and materials that could be used for good, and for building. Sinners loved by God, we can build together. We can take our stones and united, use them to build rather than kill. Our own church stands as a testament. Stone upon stone built a House of God for everyone to hear of a love above all others. What else can we do when we use our stones to build up rather than tear down?

Effective Not Efficient Dialogue

Maybe it is because I like getting my money's worth out of those blood pressure meds, or maybe it is because I, like many Ohioans, enjoy rubbernecking, but I have been reading Facebook wall posts/discussions. Perhaps name calling should have been given up for Lent.

I should clarify. Unlike the usually captivating banter surrounding what someone had for lunch or what their dog is up to that usually suck me in, the reason for this particular season was disagreement of a fundamental kind. Strongly held beliefs, over-the-top black and white comments, and the like are something akin to currency on Facebook and Twitter. Where friends and followers are tallied in their respective platform's corner, what you say & how often you say it can often mean more people to hear it (read it). The stronger, funnier, well-crafted update or comment can engender comments on your comments; replies and retweets pile up when you skin the proverbial smokewagon & fire off a round or two into an issue/controversy/etc. This is percisely what happened.

Disagreement is a building block of community. Like my favorite television President, I am a life long holder of minority opinions. Chances are we don't agree on many foundational elements of life, faith, politics, etc. That is the way it should be. In my limited understanding, disagreement has the opportunity to carve out a spaces for dialogue; an opportunity to "argue it out" as the book of Isaiah puts it. Facebook and Twitter are pretty good at aranging the meeting of important issues and strongly held beliefs. Folks seem to be braver digitally, and the comments testify to that fact. What might have been a civil dialogue regarding the ins-and-outs of our denomination, or what is/is not being said/done about this/that can quickly become a battle of complimentary skills: loud rhetoric + fast typing. Add free time and a decent internet connection and quickly you are the Nelson Muntz to our Martin Prince.

Effective not efficient dialogue is what the world, the denomination, the faith needs and deserves. Whereas efficiency is great for a myriad of things, exploring the relationship between the faithful and their community is not one of them. Effective dialogue means voices don't just weigh in but they are heard, and respected when they reciprocate. For this reason, the shouts of ideological bullies can never be conversation partners producing effective dialogue; they neither hear nor respect their oppositional counterparts. Sometimes the most important voices come from the smallest places & do not have historic traditions to claim and corresponding vocabulary to wield to ensure their voice is heard. Therefore, if we are to indeed "argue it out", then we must bring respect to the table first and foremost, and recognize efficiency at work when the loudest shouts, and those who possess superior words per minute hold court.

Ash Wednesday on a Rainy Day

Today is Ash Wednesday, and Boulevard's service begins in less than 30 minutes. Not the best time to be blogging.

In my short pastoral memory, this appears to be the first time it has rained on Ash Wednesday. The imagery is striking for me. Within the hour, many people will join us for worship and, at a certain point, have an ashen cross scrawled on their foreheads. I will say "remember you are dust, and to dust you will return"; one of our strongest statements in the Christian church. What my meager words convey is hopefully a sense that we are temporary, and the ashen cross serves as a reminder of such. As a people we don't think of ourselves as temporary very often; Ash Wednesday is one of the few days that it is made plain.

What strikes me about our rainy Ash Wednesday is how quickly the ashen cross will be washed away; how quickly a reminder of our temporal selves will be forgotten.

A Grey Day in Columbus

Sunday Sermon video - Kingdom Ethics: Ad d'Lo Yada

Sermon: Ad d’Lo Yada

Note: The following sermon was delivered (more or less like it is here) on Sunday, February 27th. It is taken from Matthew 6:24-34 but also heavily inspired by I Corinthians 4:1 and the 4th chapter of the Book of Esther.

In the Book of Esther, good and bad are laid out a plain as day. There is good, his name is Mordechai, a blessed man who seeks to protect his native Jews. Then there is bad, his name is Haman, a cursed commander of the military who plots to wipe the Jews away. Plain and simple, Mordechai is good & Haman is bad, and our book’s namesake Queen Esther, ascends to royal dignity precisely so she can refute Haman, stand up to the King, and save the Jews, her people; “for just such a time as this.” No grey area. No ambiguity. The right & only decision that honors God and saves God’s children is Mordechai. It’s an easy call.

For centuries observant Jews celebrate the Festival of Purim with costumes, gifts of charity, sharing huge feasts, and truly having a great time. Purim is often the favorite of all Jewish holidays. In a way, with a world filled with shades of grey and ambiguity, who wouldn’t love to celebrate a day when the right and wrong thing to do were so clear? Purim highlights Esther’s courage and strength to speak potentially lethal words to her captor, her husband, and king, and in so doing, emphasizes Esther’s courage. Esther is able, fully able, to step into the throne room and speak to her king words that result in her native Jewish population receiving warning of an eminent attack at the hands of Haman. Given the attention on Esther as the able, right-minded, courageous, and strong savior of the Jews, it is peculiar the way the Jewish tradition prescribes a certain celebration in her honor: getting stupid drunk.

The tradition is called Ad d’Lo Yada, and it is found in the collected wisdom of the Rabbis called the Talmud. In a festival filled with fun, food, and charity, getting hammered is a controversial way to honor God. Men are instructed to drink wine to the point of intoxication, to the point when they are no longer able to distinguish the different between “cursed in Haman” and “blessed is Mordechai.” So blitzed, their faculties fail them, and they can no longer tell the difference between Haman, the would-be butcher of the Jews, and Mordechai, Esther’s counsel and the man who shows her a call in this foreign court. So drunk, if Haman and Mordechai walked into the room right now, you would be useless to tell the difference.

Rabbis seeking to figure out the wisdom found in this practice, especially considering drunkenness is despised in much of Judaism, are not of one mind. Some believe it should be avoided, pointing out that the Rabbi who gave such a prescription owned a vineyard. Other Rabbis look for loop-holes, and others still try to offer advice on how to navigate the prescribed drinking. Yet, I am intrigued by the traditions that claim the practice. Not being much a drinker myself, and generally favoring Diet Coke to fine Red Wine, as purely an object lesson, I am taken by the idea of getting smashed to the point when you no longer depend on your ability, your knowledge, your experiences or plans to steer you away from certain death, and trust that God will point you in the right direction. Whatever happens, Haman or Mordechai, you did not rely on anything under your command and placed the matter in God’s hands. It is the ancient Jewish version of that country song, Jesus, Take the Wheel.

Please brothers and sisters, don’t get drunk. Let me say that again: please don’t get drunk. Drinking to excess is bad for Jew and Gentile alike. Drinking to forget, to no longer worry about the rigors of the day is a common cause to take up a bottle but not a good one. I don’t believe I have ever heard a sober rendition of “Don’t Worry Be Happy!” or have been counseled to “just forget about it” by anyone not drunk. The worry-free life seems impossible for those not plied by too much to drink. We have bills to pay, promises to keep, hard decisions regarding life’s realities; we avoid variables like long lines at Giant Eagle lest we get caught waiting, dependent on forces far outside our control. The non-stop news of downsizing, unemployment, increased costs for health care, vanishing Social Security, and the like, don’t lend themselves well to a “biblical approach”, do they? Now is the time for proper vigilance; keeping awake, alert and ready to seize a fleeting opportunity while others slumber. “Today is what we have to prepare for tomorrow”, an economics professor told my whole freshman class in college. He was telling us how we might turn $8,000 now into one-million by the time we retire.

As a nation we have made ignoring Jesus on this specific point of not worrying a matter of civic pride. Our history as a nation has been forged by those who struck out across of western expanse and wrestled for everything they had. Telling the cattle rancher “do not worry” as storm clouds rumble in will pack about as much punch as telling virtually any of you to not worry about filing your taxes or planning for life’s eventualities. The children of God, all the world around, face worry, anxiety, paranoia, and when we hear Jesus tell the comfortable not to pine and worry over being on par with the Jones’ and tell the hungry and poor not to worry as they wonder where the next meal will come from, we might begin to think “Oh, that is just Jesus. He must mean spiritually/symbolically.” We have been saying that a lot as of late. “Love your enemies,” “Be perfect”, and now today “do not worry”; not exactly greatest hits for the human experience.

In Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians he instructs the church to think of him and his ilk as “servants of Christ and stewards of God’s mysteries.” I heard this passage a lot in Seminary. It was the President’s favorite verse and one he used to charge many an incoming class. Like Paul, we should strive to serve Christ and be stewards, be caretakers of God’s mysteries. Perhaps it was Dean’s way of speaking about it, or maybe it was Paul’s simple way of spelling it out, but I saw something about what we do as a church and certainly as individuals as indeed being stewards of God’s mysteries. The holy, the odd, the other, the peculiar way God loves us and creates for us is pretty well summed up in the word mystery. There really isn’t anything that is not mysterious about God. Mysterious is the way in which God loves us, mysterious is the way God operates, mysterious is the way in which God interacts with God’s people, mysterious is the way that God orders the world, mysterious is the way God calls us, and certainly, mysterious is the way God shows God-self in Christ. While the world scratches its head, we claim the mysteries of God and struggle to be their caretakers. We as a church embrace the mystery, sometimes uncomfortably, and in times of true baffling, when an infant dies or tragedy strikes, when nothing makes sense – where do we go? We journey deeper into the arms of God and , and speak out our prayers and pain. Mysteries require a deeper look. Mysteries require a commitment. Mysteries require you make a choice whether to embrace only what you know, only what you can taste and touch, or embrace something bigger than simply knowing all the answers.

When I hear Jesus’ words on the Sermon on the Mount, I hear a call to be participants in the mysteries of God. When an economics professor tells you that $8,000 today could be one-million tomorrow, we hear Jesus point to the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. We are invited to join them. When hundreds of books and seminars hit the shelves each year promising to fulfill whatever you lack, we hear Jesus say you cannot serve two masters. We are invited to seek only righteousness. When the rat-race has got you convinced that what you drive and what you wear are more important that you who are, we hear Jesus say indeed God knows you. We are invited to strive for the Kingdom of God. The true call in these verses is to be people of trust and faith in a God who feed & clothes, who sustains & who is indeed mysterious. As our brothers celebrating Esther’s courage drink to symbolically illustrate God’s care, we too participate in the illogical, mysterious, other-worldly truth that by NOT sowing or reaping we are fed abundantly & by NOT worrying about tomorrow we are clothed perfectly for it. This is the Kingdom of God, not a coming Kingdom, but a call to be citizens today and follow a new King who does not want to fruits of anxious worry but only right relationship. Day by day our call is to focus not on money in the bank, clothes on your back, the car in the driveway, or who the world says you are, but to be in relationship with the mysterious God who frees us to people pursuing righteousness & living into the Kingdom of God with the same freedom as the birds fly through the air, the lilies reach towards the sun, and the grass sprouts in the spring.

Valuing Comfort/Risking Discomfort

Note: The following is my submission for the March 2011 Good News, the newsletter of Boulevard Presbyterian Church

I am a big guy. I am over six feet tall and 300 pounds. I have long arms, thick legs, and thanks to football, bad knees. I am the poster child for being uncomfortable on commercial flights. The cramped quarters and little leg room mean that I spill out into the aisle (where I like to sit) with my right leg and its bad knee creating obstacles for flight attendants and antsy passengers alike. I am not the guy you like to see boarding the plane; I am not the guy you want sitting next to you. I am an experienced passenger, and know the tricks; I no longer pray for safe flights. My prayer is usually, “Dear Lord, please let this empty seat next to me stay empty.” AMEN

Being uncomfortable is part of flying; a necessary trial that allows for incredible experiences. Standing on the Great Wall of China more than makes up for the prolonged torture I experienced on Korean Air. 14 hours from Seattle to London was instantly forgotten when I heard Big Ben chime. I look back on terribly uncomfortable experiences of travel and compare them to the incredible adventures they afforded, and I can’t justify limiting any potential adventure just because I might be cramped for 5 hours. Yet many people would decide otherwise.

Fear of being uncomfortable arrests so much progress, so many adventures, so many new and exciting paths to explore before the first step is ever taken. And I am not just talking about airline seats either. Comfort is prized so highly - the desire never to be stressed, to be forced into making new decisions, taking unknown leaps, trusting and discovering on the fly - that many will never abandon it no matter what they stand to gain. Many never jump because they don’t know where they will land; we are afraid of being uncomfortable and it is killing us.

Personally and together as a church, can you/can we remember a time when being unsure of how it would all turn out stopped a really good idea or the possibility of a great adventure? Can we/can you think of something we/you have always wanted to do but was afraid to try? I know I can. I think of what it will cost me (money, security, professionally, etc.), what it will require (trying and learning new things, trusting without proof), and what others will think, and rarely weigh what I could gain. I wonder what would have happened if I went into the Peace Corps instead of teaching for two years. Fear of being uncomfortable arrested my adventure, and I wonder at times what God would have done in my life if I would have named my fears and gone ahead into the great unknown. I do not regret (even in the least) the life I lead, and the path I have taken; it continues to be an amazing ride. I do regret not weighing what I could gain against what I could have lost.

As church and congregation, being uncomfortable is part of being faithful. We are challenged by the Holy Spirit to look past the stone walls of Boulevard Presbyterian and claim flexibility. We are challenged to place our trust in a sovereign God who asks us to humbly walk rather than hunker down and ride out the generations. Fads in culture and ministry will pass, and with them opportunities for new ways of thinking and attracting new members. We can’t possibly participate in each and every one but when something special comes along (perhaps it is a community garden?), we must be willing to claim the discomfort that comes with new adventures, and without all the answers walk in the direction the Spirit leads us.

"It is our desire to be a friendly people..."

Maybe Not Better But Much Faster

I have created an instant blogging function that allows me to email my posts and they "go live" instantly. By doing, I hope to usher in a new era of poor grammar, misspelled words, & instant blog posts.

I hope this becomes an asset but only time will tell.

Emotional Meteorology

Turns out there is an article out there about "Emotional Meteorology" as though it were a real thing...the following is not a so-called real thing.

I am tired of snow and winter. Truthfully, it is just the snow but winter is the snow's accomplice and so they are tried together. I enjoy cold weather. I enjoy snow. Each in moderation which is precisely what we are lacking here in Central Ohio as of late. It has been cold, snowy, dreary, and when it was not those things & the sun peeked through, the winds reminded you of the actual state of affairs. Like many Ohio transplants, I am growing cynical and jaded about the wonders of white Christmases.

But today is a day for some Emotional Meteorology. According to the weather app on my iPhone (it is awesome by the way), Columbus is going to be treated to a high of 56 today and, brace yourself, 62 tomorrow! Central Ohioans from Dayton to Zanesville and Marion to wherever those outlets are on I-71 South will see the sun and be warmed by her rays. Pigment and color will return to the cheeks of those lucky enough to be outside today, and the Columbus Zoo will (I am guessing here) see larger crowds. Even as I type, the sun is shinning through the cloud cover and I think I hear someone in the distance singing Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah. Wait a second...it is coming from inside my office...

I am guessing that the studies I hear about regarding the weather and emotional well-being have enough factual mustard for me to say "people generally feel better when the weather is better", and while I am not sure places like San Diego and Salinas, California have people skipping down the street, here in Ohio the equation is simple: Sun + Winter Months + (Insert Name Here) = More Excited.

Funny thing is, come summer, I am craving the 40 degree days of winter, and now, after months of snow and cold, I am craving the Spring to Summer transition. Life, like the seasons, happens in cycles that naturally create in us a desire to have what is currently unavailable. When it is hot we want it cool, when it is bitterly cold we want it warm, and when it rains during a kids birthday party we wish and sometimes pray for the rains to stop; rains we might have otherwise welcomed. Longing for a shining sun is natural and celebrating nice weather when it arrives is encouraged but the weather provides proof that living involves cycles that neither you nor I can control.

Good times and bad, ups and downs, victories and defeat, and the like are part of being human. We win some and lose some. Sweet victories and goals met. Bitter defeats and broken dreams. All part of being ALIVE. The scriptures I hold to be sacred show me in Matthew 5:45 that both the sun and the rain fall on everyone regardless. In my opinion, we should be willing to embrace the reality of life: things happen both good and bad. The sun will shine again, and the rains will come again each in their season. None experience the metaphorical sun only, and equally, experience only the rains. Living well, being alive means both sun and snow are to be embraced (expect in cases of injustice).

Today I embrace the warmer weather, the small glimpses of the sun, and the satisfaction of the snow melting without the dispensing of salt. Tomorrow I am told there will be the same. The days to come be they rainy and cold or warm and sunny are outside of my jurisdiction. Whatever they bring, I will be ready to embrace reluctantly or otherwise.

For another piece of scripture on this idea of the seasonality of life, check out the Book of Ecclesiastes Chapter 3.

Peace

Ice Storm 2011

Like most of the nation, Grandview Heights/Columbus, Ohio is getting hit pretty good. Yesterday seemed to be the worst when it came to ice & today we have bitter cold and blowing snow/winds.

Here are a couple of shots I took yesterday as I made my way into work:

On the left is a bush that sits outside the West 2nd Ave. entrance of Boulevard Presbyterian Church.





On the right is my car windshield yesterday morning. I took the shot from the inside looking out.

Life's Classroom - Jan. 30 sermon

A Future Worth Winning?

The Micah & Matthew lectionary passages for January 30th were embedded in my mind as I listened to President Barak Obama's State of the Union address on January 25, 2011. Like many, the President's charge to "win the future" gave me pause. The following is a meditation and a prayer I wrote on January 26th.

As I read the lectionary this week, I think of all the people Jesus is indeed talking about. The Poor, The Hungry, those crushed into meek and meager existences by a world that is not for them. I think about the men, women and children who fall under the description of poor, hungry, meek, and in a week where our President foretells of a future that must be won in order to be had, I lament another future not available to those Jesus describes.

“The future is ours to win”, said my President. A coming future where victory will be measured by the advances of learned men and women. When those who grasp the promise of the coming day are, once again, not those who sleep under bridges, in shelters, or in the camps of refugees, but those with worldly power: powers of wealth, of privilege, and the respect that comes with America’s greatest dream: the ability to grow into whatever you want to be. The future, that future is not for the poor, the hungry, the meek and the meager. Their moment will not conclude with victory.

If the future is to be won, if the journey for the promise of a new day is to be a race then many will not finish. Left behind will be those who need the promise the most. Left behind will be those whose life demands the meager energy their hungry stomachs afford and do not have the strength to run the races of this world. Their race is ultimate. It winds along the centers of power, along the steps of government, the seats of influence, and the high walls of wealth but unlike privileged sons and daughters they do not make these places their stop. Their race continues and is a marathon of ultimate things. Their race ends not in the promise of a future but in the hope of a different day, a final day when the promise of an inheritance and a great, filling banquet is set for the children of God who now gaze upon the Almighty. Their hope lies only in the promise of a great reversal, a great comfort born not of confidence in able body or ample wealth but in God Almighty whose Angels long ago promised a day when the hungry will be filled with good things.

Can a future where millions are left out truly be a future worth running for? A future worth winning? If we truly are on the verge of this generations Sputnik moment, where they look to the lofty heights & upper reaches of possibility and make that our national goal, then should we not set our sights on the nature of the very future itself? The great challenges facing our society are the ones, that by ignoring, rob the very future from our whole nation, and the world. They are not conquered in labs or libraries but in fair housing, justice for all, living wages, peace in communities, equality in marriage and life, and in an earth sustainable enough for generations that inherit what we have begun. This is the only future worth winning. Its foundation was laid centuries ago in the words of a prophet who told us what the Lord requires: to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Old words for a bright future.

True victory comes only when the future is available to all. That is the only future worth winning. Let us turn head on into the challenges of this generation, and lean into the promise that races run to bring together a more just world will be the only races worth wining.

Let us all look forward to a future worth winning: one where the hope of a new generation is available to all God’s children.

Sermon: Life's Classroom

The following is a meditation on Matthew 5:1-12. It was delivered on Sunday, January 30th

Many of you know that I am teaching a class entitled Our Favorite Jesus during the Christian Education hour this month. The class ends today with a look into the Jesus Movement of the 1960s and 70s. In fact I have a slide entitled “Hippie Jesus” saying that the peace, love and understanding Jesus of the era was born right in San Francisco & his parents were two former druggies named Elizabeth and Ted Wise who raised Jesus and a population of so-called Jesus Freaks. They believed Jesus to be a drop-out like they were. An outlaw and revolutionary on a mission to awaken the disillusioned and open the eyes of the drugged out young men and women who slept in the parks of Haight Ashbury. A well-known Jesus Chant of the time went: “Give Me a J”, they would chant. “Give Me a E, Give Me a S, Give Me a U, Give Me a S. What does that spell? What will get you higher than acid? What will keep you up longer than speed? What does America need?"[1] The answer to each was Jesus, and the folks who embraced Christ as the “Everlasting High” started to take the whole imitation of Christ-thing to a whole new level growing their hair long, wearing robes and sandals, bushy beards, and generally trying to be as Christ-like as they could manage.

From the hilly road of Haight Ashbury San Francisco to the slopes of Southern California, the Jesus Freaks spread carrying with them a Jesus that spoke their slang, knew their vibe, and promised something longer lasting and potent than the drugs that personified their culture. Coffeehouses-slash-Nightclubs popped up wherever the Jesus Freaks went be it The Living Room in Haight or His House in Hollywood, the message spread and these community pads overflowed with the young men and women that later would go on and populate many of the gigantic & mega-churches of Southern California. In His House, which was started by a preacher named Arthur Blessitt (which seems almost too good to be true), marijuana & heroin users seeking to get higher and higher would hear the Word of God translated into their street slang by Blessitt himself. A rite of passage for anyone who sought to “get high” on Jesus rather than drugs, Blessitt had recent converts throw their grass and pipe right into the toilet of the His House bathroom, and as they repeated “I don’t need these anymore, I’m high on the Lord”[2] Blessitt would baptize each and every one there in the toilet. Emerging from the stall, hair wet, the newly minted Jesus Freak was reminded that “Jesus is no namby-pamby character. In fact, Christ really socks it to you with some really heavy stuff.” [3]

That quote, “Christ really socks it to you with some really heavy stuff”, sums up the attitude of those who helped form the Jesus Movement and created the safe-havens Jesus Freaks flocked towards. Back in the Bay Area, a buttoned up, straight laced professor named Jack Sparks moved from teaching at Penn State University to University of California at Berkley. Sparks teaches and is involved with Campus Crusade for Christ, an evangelical organization still present today that in the 1960s wanted nothing to do with the “growing problem” of youth counterculture. Sparks is convicted by the Apostle Paul’s words in the 9^th chapter of his First Letter to the Corinthians, “For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them ”[4] and he jettisons the ties and blazers that served as a uniform for the culture the youth who flocked to Berkley rebelled against.[5]

A modern term for what Sparks did might be embed. Like the war journalists that live, breathe, sleep, and eat with the fighting groups they cover, Sparks embeds with the Jesus Freaks, a term he appropriated away from those had only criticism for him and his flock who then wore it like a badge. Leaders like Sparks begin taking the sacred scriptures of our Christian faith and begin translating them into the slang of the streets. By unlocking the message of Jesus Christ from the “words” of a culture that didn’t want these dirty, drugged out hippies, Sparks especially in his New Testament translation, Letters to the Street Christians, allowed the words that we as people of faith hold as sacred to be heard again anew. Behind all the “dig it” and “far out”, Letters to the Street Christians opened new ears and minds to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Toilet Baptisms. Slang Scripture. Hippies and Haight Ashbury. For some of you, you might remember seeing it happen, yet as we sit here it seems like a long time ago, in a far away place. If you were asked to throw your iPhone, or whatever you happen to be addicted to into the toilet by James or myself and be baptized, one of the many things you would probably do next would to find a different church. Imagine being so overcome by the Gospel you found yourself willingly being plunged head first into the toilet of a popular nightclub. Yet this is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, a life-changing, mind-altering, world-rocking Gospel and nowhere is this more evident that in the words of our Beatitudes. Great reversals will take place, Jesus tells the crowds. Reversals of the sacred institutions of our very lives, where those made meek and forced to live out meager lives will inherit the very earth that now seems like a prison. A reversal will take place where the hungry will one day dine along side the thirsty at a great & ultimate banquet, and those who strive to make peace in a world of war will be called the Children of God, and those who despite the great injustices visited upon them remain pure in heart, they will be those who see God. A great reversal will take place, a reversal of ultimate things, and with it a day to look forward to; a day to order your lives around and a day to give you courage and strength. Our gospel lesson today provides for us Jesus at his most dangerous, his most radical, his most counter-cultural for he speaks of a Kingdom to come where we will not be seated upon the throne.

This is a message to live by. This is a message to order your lives around. This is a message to live into by reaching out to those who God loves. This is a message that could change the world: that God loves the poor, the hungry, the thirsty, and meek…and a reversal is to come that will bring love and justice. But can we hear it? Or maybe we just don’t know how yet?

In a week, I will once again be heading out to Camp Akita & help direct the Presbytery’s Winter Youth Retreat. This year’s theme is “The Presbyterian Survival Guide.” Our Subscript is “what every Presbyterian needs to know to make it out alive.” With the popularity of Zombies continuing to grow, we are talking about what it means to be “alive in Christ” and not dead to God’s grace. In one of the survival scenarios, the couple that has found themselves at a church filled with “Christian Zombies” spends the sermon time ignoring a bland, boring sermon wondering what to have for lunch and what Jesus would think about the sermon they were hearing. When I wrote the skit, I had this scripture and Jack Sparks in the back of my mind.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ, the breaking in and reversing of the world that is to come where the poor will be filled up and the rich brought down, needs to be heard again. The message of love for the poor and the hungry, the meek and the meager, the message of what God requires of us, needs to break through the baggage, the waxy build-up of years and years of domestication, and be heard. A message so transformative, so enlightening, so energizing, so empowering that it orders our very lives, sets our feet in the right direction and teaches us how to live with one another. When you hear a message like that, you want to be a part of it, and then maybe toilet baptisms don’t sound so crazy after all.

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[1] Prothero, Stephen, American Jesus: How the Son of God Became a National Icon, Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, New York 2003, pg. 122-126

[2] Ibid, pg. 129

[3] Petserson, Duane, Jesus People, Regal Books, Glendale, CA 1971

[4] NRSV I Corinthians 9:19

[5] Prothero, pg. 127

Check Out the NEW Boulevard Website!

With a huge debt of gratitude to our web designer/developer Lance Osborne and I photographer Ken Frick, I am VERY proud to announce that Boulevard Presbyterian Church's new website has been launched! Check it out by clicking the link below:

Boulevard Presbyterian Church

My Blog Ate My Post

I am not going to type it again. Over an hour down the tubes. I had (what I thought) was a decent post about the cries of people reaching out for help and the scams that try to feed on people's desire to help. I even had two references: The Simpsons and a book. It is gone.

I am sorry I can't post it. I am also aware this is going to make me skittish about blogging again for a bit. Like the people in the blog you can't read, I have grown jaded about blogging because I have now been burnt.

Stupid Blogger...

Get Your Free Post-Worship Burritto!

The other day the church got a call from our local Chiptole offering buy one - get one burritos for "Boulevard Presbyterian Church." Since it was just us staff at the time we got our orders ready and had discount burritos for lunch. Very tasty!

When I got to the Chipotle on West 5th Ave. the manager (or promotions coordinator) informed me that the West 5th Ave. Chiptole was offering Boulevard Presbyterian Church buy one-get one burritos on Sundays after worship (that location ONLY). Mention your are from Boulevard Presbyterian Church and enjoy the savings.

Very Cool.

Good & Great

What would you choose if you could be made good at something instantly? Would you become a good cook? Perhaps a good investor? Maybe a good basketball player or skilled with the rod and the reel. The choice is yours. What would you be good at? For me, it would be music.

I do wish I had even remedial skill at playing the guitar or the piano. To be called “good” at tickling the ivory would be fulfillment of my one unrequited love. In my dreams I picture myself sitting on my porch playing guitar for hours on end as I work my way through the Eric Clapton catalog or sitting at the piano as the family gathers for Christmas playing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Professional aspirations aside, I would be good playing the guitar and the piano. If only wishing made it so.

Would you choose if you could be great at something? Would it be the same? Would you choose to be truly great at cooking or basketball? Would you elect to have your named etched in stone for generations and generations because you were great at fishing? As much as I dream about playing an instrument, I am confident that it would not be the thing I elect to be great at. Perhaps it would be peacemaking that I would choose. Then again it might be communication. Maybe I would elect to be great at something yet unrealized; a skill and talent for the next phase of my life and ministry. To choose what to be truly great at would require some serious discernment, and then hard work and commitment.

The difference between good and great is epic. Good is fine but great is better. This truth led Jim Collins in his book Good to Great to bluntly call good “the enemy of great” for its ability to arrest effort, progress, innovation, and discernment. If you were good at fishing would you put in the time, energy, effort, focus, and rugged determination to work to become a great fisher-person? We often work towards good and settle there; good is good enough. Good gets you in the door. Good makes you some money. Good can produce but how much less than Great? Imagine the different between a good signer and a great one. Imagine the difference between a good pitcher and a great one. Imagine the difference between a good restaurant and a great one. Imagine the difference between a good church and a great one.

One last question, do you want Boulevard to be a good church or a great one? If good is good enough then we have very little left to do. Yet if great is where we are called, if great is where we are to aim, if becoming a great church is how we are going to provide for future generations and our community then there is no time for just being good. The first step is simple: a decision. Shall we band together with a common focus as we begin the journey to make Boulevard great or shall we rest here at good?