I Can't Wait - 1st Sunday of Advent, 2022

 I can’t wait!

How often have we said “I can’t wait”? As children, we would say it in anticipation of Christmas and the gifts we were eager to receive. Expectant parents (and their parents – grandparents-to-be!) say it in anticipation of the birth of their child. “I can’t wait to hold her!” We adults say it in anticipation of seeing our children and grandchildren again. “I can’t wait to see you!”

We say “I can’t wait” about something we eagerly desire but can’t have just yet. It is about the future and our expectation of what the future will bring us. It looks to the future as we anticipate what will be but is not yet.

“I can’t wait!” Yet we do. We have to wait until the future becomes the present, until what will be becomes what is. Waiting is what we do in the midst of what is.

Waiting is not one of my favorite things to do - whether I’m stuck behind a slow driver in the fast lane on the interstate or in a line waiting to be seated at a restaurant or for processes to come to fruition in the life of the church. I don’t like waiting. I assume I am not alone in this struggle.

Waiting is a reminder that we are not in control – that’s why waiting is so frustrating and painful to us. Someone or something else is calling the shots and making the decisions. While what is is not what we want or would choose, we are powerless to change it. All we can do is wait (and fret and complain and . . .) Waiting invites us to focus on the only thing we can control – ourselves and our attitude while we wait.

The season of Advent – which begins today - is about waiting. The season reminds us that waiting is an inescapable part of life. It calls us to deal with the discomfort and impatience we feel when we have to wait. It teaches us how to deal with waiting. It invites us to make peace with waiting. It reminds us that waiting is an inherent part of being the people of God and the followers of Christ.

The Advent season lifts our focus from what is to what will be – the future. It points us to the coming of Jesus, first, in the promise of his birth and, second, in the promise of his return. The saints in the Hebrew scriptures looked forward to the birth of the Messiah and to the new way of life that the Messiah would usher into being. The New Testament saints lived with a keen sense of the imminent return of Jesus in which he would bring that new way of living (the Kingdom) to fulfillment.

Looking forward to what will be is an act of faith. We look forward in eager anticipation because of the promises of God. We trust the steadfast, faithful love of God, believing God is at work to bring about a future that is different from the present. Trusting God’s redeeming, transforming work, we believe what will be will not be like what is. Thus, for the followers of Jesus, waiting is about trust . . . trust in God’s faithfulness, trust in God’s promises, trust in God’s redeeming, transforming work, trust in what will be.  

Our faith transforms our waiting. It fills our waiting with hope. Hope is the forward look of faith. It is the quiet confidence that what God said will be will be, even though it is not yet. When our waiting is infused with hope, we move beyond fretting and complaining into peace – inner peace, a peace that cannot be explained (Philippians 4:7), the peace of Christ (John 14:27).

Waiting filled with hope is not passive. It is more than enduring what is. As we wait for what will be, we work to bring what will be into reality here, now. “Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10). We live the ways of God in the midst of what is. In doing so, we partner with God in bringing into reality what will be – the kingdom, here on earth.

And so another Advent journey begins, teaching us the spiritual discipline of waiting as an expression of the forward look of our faith. I can’t wait to see what the journey will bring.

In Everything, Give Thanks - Thanksgiving, 2022

 One of the traditions many church people practice around Thanksgiving is, in the words of an old hymn, to “count your blessings, name them one by one.” We name the things for which we are thankful. As a pastor, I was often a part of this reciting of blessings for which we were thankful. My experience of this tradition is the blessings we commonly named fell into one of three categories: our family, our health, our country and the material blessings we enjoy by living here. In all the years of listening to this reciting of blessings, I have no memory of anyone being thankful for how God had worked in their lives the past year or how their lives were different because of that work. In other words, the identified blessings were always material blessings, never spiritual ones.

(This focus on the material says something about us as the followers of Jesus. It stands in marked contrast to what Jesus taught. But that’s the subject of another blog.)

This focus on material blessings raises a question in my mind: what do we do when we no longer have these blessings? What happens when we lose loved ones – a spouse or parent or child or cousin or friend? What happens when we reach the stage of life when health is always a challenge and we are constantly dealing with one issue or another? What happens when our financial resources become limited?

The words of the apostle Paul in 1 Thessalonians come to mind: “in everything, give thanks” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). You will notice that Paul did not command us to give thanks for everything, but in everything. The difference between for and in is significant. Life presents us with any situations we do not welcome – times of challenge, difficulty, heartache, loss, pain, etc. Paul does not ask us to give thanks for these kinds of situations. Rather, he calls us to give thanks in those situations.

The challenge, difficulty, and pain of our situation can blind us to anything but our situation. We become preoccupied with it to the point that it consumes our focus, our attention, our thoughts, our energies. Giving thanks in such situations lifts our attention from the situation back to God. Giving thanks in such situations helps us refocus. It creates within our spirit an openness to God and to God’s work in the situation.

This exhortation about giving thanks is actually one part of a trilogy of exhortations Paul wove together: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). Rejoice, pray, give thanks. Each command carries an adjective that communicates continuously - always, without ceasing, in everything. The three are interrelated and intertwined. You can’t have one without the other two. One will always lead to the other two.

In these three commands, Paul in not describing behaviors we are to constantly repeat. Rather, he is describing an inner disposition – an inner attitude and spirit – out of which we as the people of God and the followers of Jesus are to live. We are to live out of a spirit of joy and gratitude that flows out of an openness to God.

To give thanks is to respond with gratitude to God’s grace and goodness. Gratitude flows out of our experience of God’s grace and goodness. We first respond to such grace with thanksgiving to God. But our response does not stop with thanksgiving. The gift we receive flows through us in generosity to others. Gratitude produces generosity. Gift produces giving. The grace of God we receive produces a spirit of generosity expressed in giving to others. As the followers of Jesus, we live with thanksgiving that goes beyond “when life is good.” In everything, give thanks.

The experience of grace that produces a spirit of thanksgiving within us creates an openness to God. Paul’s exhortation to pray without ceasing points to an attitude rather than to an action. We live each day, sharing life with God and attentive to God. We live expecting God to be at work in ways we cannot see and to bless us in whatever comes our way. We live in eager anticipation, open and receptive to receive. As the psalmist said, “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life” (Psalm 23:6a). “In all things God works for the good of those who love him” (Romans 8:28). As the followers of Jesus, we live with an openness to God and an expectancy of God’s blessing. An openness to God is a natural companion to a spirit of thanksgiving.

As a result, we rejoice always. In Philippians 4:4, Paul said “Rejoice in the Lord always.” We rejoice in who God is and in God’s redeeming work. As the followers of Jesus, we live with a spirit of joy because of the steadfast, faithful love of God, because we know God is at work to transform every experience into something good in our lives, because we know God’s love never fails, because God always has the last word. As the followers of Jesus, we live with joy.

“For this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thessalonians 5:18b). Living out of an inner disposition of thanksgiving and joy, coupled with an openness to God’s goodness and grace, is how God wants us to live.

Without this threefold inner disposition, our lives are shaped by the challenges and struggles we encounter. Instead of being thankful for God’s goodness and grace, we become preoccupied with what we think we need and with what we don’t have. We want more – more than what we have. This desire for more (what the Bible calls greed) can never be satisfied. Consequently, we turn to God out of our desire for more, not out of our desire for God. We tell God what to do and what to give us rather than trusting God’s wisdom in giving. We live out of an inner spirit of anxiety and fear, laced with frustration and anger, which is constantly striving after something more.  

Living with a spirit of gratitude and joy, consciously open to God and God’s work, keeps us from focusing on and becoming preoccupied with life’s challenges. It prevents us from being consumed by or defeated by what happens to us. As the followers of Jesus, the inner disposition of our lives is shaped by the faithful love of God, not by the challenges and struggles we encounter.

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). 

One of These Days - Christ the King Sunday, 2022

One of these days … It is something most of us have said at one time or another. It is also something the ancient Hebrew prophets would say. Isaiah said “In the days to come” (Isaiah 2:2). Jeremiah said “The days are surely coming” (Jeremiah 31:27, 31, 38). Their words look beyond what is to what will be. They point beyond the present situation to the future that God is creating - with our help, of course. One of these days.

Isaiah and Jeremiah both said “one of these days” during a time of national crisis. Isaiah spoke during the uncertainty following the death of King Uzziah. His long, fifty-two year reign had been filled with prosperity and international peace. As his untested son inherited the throne, the nation of Assyria invaded and destroyed Judah’s northern neighbor Israel and, then, marched against Judah. Judah survived, but barely. She paid an exorbitant tribute annually to Assyria to avoid the same fate as Israel. Jeremiah’s “one of these days” was spoken as the armies of Babylon overwhelmed Jerusalem, bringing about her downfall and the destruction of the Temple. In the midst of chaos and challenge, destruction and pain, both prophets looked beyond what was to what would be.

The prophets’ confidence in what would be was rooted in their deep trust in the steadfast, faithful love of the LORD. They believed the LORD’s love never wavered. They believed the LORD would never give up on them or abandon them. They believed the current crisis was not greater than the LORD’s faithful love. They believed LORD would continue to work in the midst of what was to bring about what would be.

Isaiah spoke of a time when the nations would move beyond their reliance upon war. “Nation shall not lift up sword against nation; neither shall they learn war any more” (Isaiah 2:4b). No more war colleges or military academies! Instead, the nations would learn to negotiate, looking to the LORD to arbitrate between them. Their energies and resources would be invested in producing goods to feed the world rather than in manufacturing implements of war (Isaiah 2:4a). One of these days we’ll learn to do things differently, Isaiah said.

Jeremiah also spoke of doing things differently. He spoke of a new way of relating to the LORD – a new covenant – that would produce different results (Jeremiah 31:31-32). God’s grace and forgiveness would replace the focus on obedience to the law, i.e., behavior (Jeremiah 31:34b). That grace and forgiveness would free us to know and relate to the LORD personally (Jeremiah 31:34). That grace and forgiveness would produce a transformation of our hearts (Jeremiah 31:33). One of these days we’ll learn to do things differently, Jeremiah said.

The prophets’ words were words of hope. By looking beyond what was and pointing to what would be, these prophets encouraged the people to endure – to keep on keeping on – knowing the chaos and challenge, the pain and suffering were but for a season. Then … after this season has passed.  It’s not always going to be like this. One of these days.

But hope is about more than endurance. Hope that sees what can be, what will be motivates us to work to bring about what will be, even in the midst of the chaos and challenge, the pain and suffering of what is. Hope calls us to be God’s partner in creating the time when we will do things differently.

Hope is the forward look of faith. Hope looks beyond what is to what will be because of the steadfast, faithful love of God. One of these days. We can say it because of our faith in God, because we trust God’s steadfast, faithful love.

This Sunday is Christ the King Sunday – or, if you prefer, the Reign of Christ Sunday. It is the last Sunday of the liturgical year. It invites us to look beyond what is to what will be. It reminds us of hope - the forward look of faith - the quiet assurance of what will be but is not yet. It calls us to give ourselves anew to being God’s partner in bringing into reality what will be when we finally do things differently. After all, doing things differently has to begin sometime, somewhere. Why not with us?

Christ the King Sunday reminds us that one of these days ….

Rebuilding

Moving beyond loss involves rebuilding — rebuilding our lives without that one who is missing. What is involved in this rebuilding? What does it look like?

While it looks different for each one, rebuilding involves the same challenges (translation: opportunities) for all of us.

The biggest challenge is establishing a new identity. Who am I apart from this one who is no longer a part of my life? This opportunity allows me to redefine myself, claiming an identity not based up or built around the other person. It allows me to explore who God created me to be and who God is calling me to be as I move forward. It allows me to identify and live out of my unique gifts and passions. It offers me the opportunity to express those gifts, lived out in my area of passion, in new and different ways.

Whenever I refer to myself — label myself — as widow or widower or divorced, the one who is gone or the role I played with them continues to be a part of my identity. How can we allow someone to be a part of our past without them defining our future? How can I be more than the role I had in that one relationship? Discovering our identity apart from them does not discount them or dishonor them. Rather, it honors who God created us to be. In the splintering of The UMC, those who have been labeled as progressives can no longer define themselves in comparison to those who have been labeled as conservatives. (“I’m not like that” is a fundamental way we humans define ourselves.) A stronger, deeper-rooted identity is needed. The splintering offers us the opportunity to reestablish and reclaim that deeper identity.

Rebuilding involves redefining who we are. This redefining (or clarifying) who we are allows us to live out of who we are rather than in reaction to or adaptation to another.

Another opportunity rebuilding offers is that of clarifying and reaffirming our purpose. Redefining who we are is asking “Who am I?” Clarifying our purpose is asking “Why am I here?” When our identity is tied up in a relationship or in a role we played, our sense of purpose is gone whenever we lose that relationship or role. Rebuilding presents us the opportunity to rediscover — or perhaps discover for the first time — the core purpose of our lives. It is that purpose that guides us and gives meaning to our lives going forward.  

The splintering of The UMC offers us the opportunity to refocus on our purpose and recommit to living out of that purpose. The controversy and conflict over LGBTQ+ issues, with its focus on the opposing side, has distracted us from that purpose. Rebuilding offers us the opportunity to evaluate and restructure our lives around that purpose rather than simply doing what we have always done in the way we have always done it.

Redefining our identity and clarifying our purpose requires us to get clear about the foundational truths upon which we build our lives — the third challenge and opportunity. These truths shape our identity and clarify our purpose.

Rebuilding means reengaging life. It is continuing to live fully and deeply — without the one who is gone, with a redefined identity, with a renewed sense of purpose, with a renewed clarity about the foundational truths upon which we build our lives.

Such reengaging can be challenging, even intimidating. It requires us to learn, to adjust, to develop new skills, to develop a new sense of independence. It requires us to grow beyond who we were. If we shrink back from the work of rebuilding and reengaging, we will remain stuck, our lives defined by the past and the one who is gone.

Rebuilding and reengaging offer us the opportunity to live out our faith. We do the work in dependence upon God for wisdom, guidance, and strength. We undertake the journey trusting God’s steadfast, faithful love. We shift our focus from the past that was to the future that God has for us — a future we help create by rebuilding and reengaging.

Lamenting ... and Moving On

In dealing with any loss, there comes a time to move on. To move on is to quit focusing on the loss, allowing it to dominate our focus and control how we live. To move is to begin the process of rebuilding. To move is to learn to live without that which we loss.

Before we can move on, however, we must grieve what we loss. We must face it, name it, own the pain of it, grieve it. Only then can we truly move on. If we attempt to move on without doing the hard work of grieving, we will carry the grief and loss with us in unconscious ways. Any loss that is not consciously grieved — that is, is left unaddressed and unresolved — will get dumped onto others in the form of anger, criticism, judgment, and conflict. Unresolved grief will sabotage our relationships as we move into the future.

 The polarization in our nation and the splintering of The UMC suggest unrecognized and, consequently, unaddressed and unresolved pain in our inner lives. This unnamed, unaddressed, and unresolved pain is being dumped onto others in the form of criticism, blame, judgement, and condemnation. Those we target with our judgment are the scapegoats we use to carry our unaddressed and unresolved internal pain.

 The lament psalms give us a model for dealing with the pain of our grief. They teach us to pray our pain, expressing our anger to God (as opposed to dumping it onto others). Sixty of the one-hundred-fifty psalms are lament psalms — that’s forty percent of them! These psalms invite us to bring our anger to God in prayer. “How long, O LORD?” (Psalm 13:1). “Why!?” (Psalm 22:1). The lament psalms invite us to lay our pain, our grief, our anger, our struggle before God. In doing so, we open this inner pain to God. We put ourselves in a position for God to work on it.

 Each of the lament psalms follows a pattern: complaint (Psalm 13:1-2), petition (Psalm 13:3-4), trust (Psalm 13:5-6). The psalm begins with an expression of the psalmist’s pain in the form of a complaint. After voicing the complaint, the psalmist asks God to respond, addressing his need. That petition gives way to faith as the psalmist expresses her hope in God and God’s steadfast, faithful love.

 Consciously addressing our grief, facing and feeling its pain, opens the door to healing. Praying it allows God to be a part of that healing. That healing work is what allows us to let go of the pain of what and who we loss. It frees us from our constant focus on the loss. It allows us to begin to rebuild, moving into a new reality apart from what or who we loss. It allows us to move on.

 Grief is never really over. It has a way of resurfacing, even when we have consciously addressed it and resolved it. Such resurfacing is normal as what or who we loss is never really gone from our lives. The one we loss and what we loss lives on in our memories. The loss is a part of our history. The resurfacing of grief is an indicator of the significance of what or who we loss. It is an invitation to remember and be thankful.

 The writer of Ecclesiastes says there is a time to weep and a time to mourn (Ecclesiastes 3:4). There is also a time to move on, to begin to rebuild, to face and embrace the future, trusting God’s steadfast, faithful love.

 Recently, I participated in a service of lament for clergy who have been hurt in the disaffiliation process. (Many clergy have been the target of hateful things said and done by members of their churches — an indication this conflict and splintering is not of God.) Following Psalm 13, we voiced our hurt and pain, our grief and anger. We told our stories. We prayed, opening our hurt to God’s healing Spirit. We reclaimed our hope, trusting God’s steadfast, faithful love. The service of lament was a service of healing.  

 This past week, Bishop Rueben Saenz was assigned to serve as the bishop of the Central Texas Conference, along with the North Texas Conference. Bishop Saenz has served as our interim bishop for the past year while serving as the bishop of the Great Plains Conference. In a conversation with him at this year’s annual conference, Bishop Saenz said to me, “A party is coming!” He was encouraging me to not be discouraged, to not get bogged down in the loss caused by the splintering. He was telling me to live in hope, trusting the steadfast, faithful love of God.

 It is time to claim that hope. It is time to move on.