Today when I woke up I had hoped the news from last night would have changed. However, this morning only confirmed the truth I knew the night before, Ozzie Guillen is no longer the skipper for, in my opinion, the greatest baseball team ever to take the field, The Chicago White Sox. A lot of people, especially, in the city of Chicago don’t have the same appreciation for the hometown heroes on the south side of town but I do. Why? Because Sox baseball is honest baseball and Ozzie Guillen was an honest manager.

He was always much maligned for his antics and “Ozzie being Ozzie” but the truth is he never pulled a punch, never pretended to be something he was not and always wanted the best for his players, the Sox, and the city of Chicago. The media has a way of spinning things and Ozzie was as much a victim of that as anyone else, he just seemed to make it easier for them to do that. Thats the thing about Sox fans, we don’t like bs. We don’t pretend the Sox are great when they do nothing. Ozzie didn’t either and for that I will always love and respect the man who helped bring a trophy to the South Side of Chicago.

But Ozzie leaving wasn’t the saddest news I learned all week, not by a long shot. In the end it is just baseball, as insignificant as anything else that doesn’t deal with real life. This Sunday I received a text from a friend of mine letting me know that a pastor in St. Louis had decided to end his own life. I did not know him all that well but I know people who did. Needless to say it was something that nobody saw coming. I can’t help but wonder why.

During difficult time it is callous to ask the question of if we did enough to ensure this wouldn’t have happened. Outside of the obvious reality that suicide is a faultless tragedy the fact is we will never know that answer. Trying to understand things like why people make the choices they make is never an easy thing because we do not live inside the mind of another. However, not being able to understand what transpired in the mind of another does not mean we cannot learn from the situation.

Death is an altogether uncomfortable subject because of its finality. There really is no way to reverse it and when the death of someone close to us happens we are left in a state of shock. Some people try to explain it. This had to happen because… Or it’s God’s plan to teach us something. But answers like that do nothing more than leave me wondering if anyone understands the pain and shock associated with death because during such a time platitudes like that are often empty and fruitless exercises in rhetoric. Using those fire escape sayings denies the reality of what we are experiencing, something that shouldn’t be happening. DEATH SUCKS.

Personally I’m sick of hearing that death is a natural part of life, a conclusion as inevitable as eating or breathing. I cannot accept such a romanticizing of death because I don’t think death is natural, at least it wasn’t in the beginning. At the risk of sounding fundamentalist I do not believe death was part of God’s design for His beloved creation. Death wasn’t part and parcel in the garden of Eden, it was a result of the curse from the events that transpired inside those walls. In fact, I think its in understanding death as an enemy that we can actually begin to deal with it. Although I do see death as an enemy I do not see it as something to be feared.

Christianity has a way of souring the taste of some pretty beautiful assertions. Take for example eternal life. How often do we hear that the reason someone needs to accept Christ or not reject His grace it comes with the assertion that if one doesn’t do so they will spend eternity in Hell. But to paint the picture this way I think misses the point. Christ didn’t die to save people from hell, he died to save them from death. As bassackwards as it sounds the only way to conquer death was to die and then rise again. It is in that second part that Christians actually trust, the resurrection of the dead. Another way to understand it is because of Christ Christians know that death is not their end.

But what do we do with that message? We corrupt it and turn it into something altogether undesirable. We turn into a message of an angry God waiting to send people to hell or waiting to let them send themselves there. But I don’t think hell is the real point and I think by reducing the Christian message to an avoidance of an eternal hell misses the point of the crucifixion. At the cross Christ took on the curse from the Garden of Eden. On him the sin of the world was placed. On him God’s wrath was poured out in its entirety. On the cross Christ took on death in all its finality. But death could not stop Him, and this is the point, HE ROSE AGAIN. Death is no longer an end. It is not something to fear.

Death will never be something we can understand. We can try and point to why things happen but the truth is we will never know why this happens or that happens. We will never know why cancer takes him and not her. We will never know why she chooses to take her life and he doesn’t. What we do know however is that although death is ultimately what unites all humanity it is not something we have to fear or even try to understand because death has lost its sting. Recognizing this allows us the ability to enter into the rooms of the sick with hope. It allows us to come alongside those who mourn and mourn with them, going through the pain of it all with out trying to explain it away. It allows us to be freed from fear and embrace life in all its beauty. And when we do that, when we are able to embrace life for all it is we realize something, that others are worth fighting for.

Fear paralyzes people. It forces them to put their own concerns over that of another. But when we recognize that death is not the final nail in the coffin and when we let go of the fear associated with such an event we realize that we no longer have to live for ourselves because we know we are taken care of. But what about the guy next to me or the girl across the hall? What about them? Are they taken care of? Do they know they are loved? Do they know that they are cared for and respected? Do they know that they have a life worth living? I think when these are the kinds of questions we start asking with regularity we will realize that we are all part of a greater community. A community that loves with reckless abandon. A community that seeks to care for each and every other person not because we have to, but because we can.

Death sucks. But we don’t need to worry about our own fate. We don’t need to wonder when our ticket will be punched. We know that death is not our end. But knowing it, and living in recognition of that are two different things. Hopefully we will have the courage to do that latter.

Although it is by no means early in the night I should be going to bed. I have to leave the house in less than 8 hours so that I can get my wife to work and then get back for class, all the while fighting the wonderful traffic of the city I love. Its worth it though, to be writing right now, because I feel as though the last week has stretched me in ways I do not yet completely understand.

In the wake of my realization last week I decided that it was time for me to engage Lutheran theology in a way I haven’t before. I want to figure out who I am and what I believe because when my time at seminary is done, no matter what other academic pursuits I endeavor towards, I want to be a pastor. Even as I write those words some old demons of my past start poking their heads about reminding me of more than I care to remember.

For years the more I saw myself walking toward this calling I found myself running away from it. I have seen first hand the abuse of power that comes with such status. I know people who lord it over others, claiming somehow ordination made them holier than the one they stand beside. In all honesty I was always scared at what it might mean to be a pastor, especially one within the LCMS. I knew that being ordained had caveats, I had to subscribe to and confess the doctrine of the church contained in the Book of Concord. I had to pledge myself and bind myself to those documents and there was nothing that scared me more. Like I said, Ive seen the abuses. I know how people hide behind the doctrine. If I were to be honest, at times, Ive been one of them.

But this last week something dawned on me. It was actually in a Facebook message from a dear friend of mine. Now whether he realizes the impact of his words I will never know but it was nothing less than the support of him and others close to me that I came to realize something. I need to stop running. I need to stop being afraid. I actually need to take a look at things and give them the chance I never did for fear of turning out like those who abuse the position they are in. So I did, I am still, and I will continue to do so. Not because I am compelled to but because I have the opportunity to figure out if I actually believe something or not.

What started out as a journey into understanding the foundational elements of Lutheranism turned into a discovery of something much more revolutionary I had never thought I would find. But I found it, though I guess I should say its something I have known intellectually for years only now it has grabbed a hold of me. In fact, unlike I was a year or two or three or four ago I am proud of my theological heritage. I am proud of the basis and if I ever do get the opportunity to take those vows of ordination I know without a doubt I could confess anything I needed to.

So what is it? Whats so revolutionary? I’m fractured. I’m broken. Yet… I’m beautiful. And so are you.

Growing up Lutheran has afforded many things other than those which cause me to cringe. It has allowed me to interact with the theology of the man who started a reformation nearly 500 years ago. It has been hard for me to take him seriously at times because of those who claim to follow in his footsteps. At times I found myself in a similar position to that of Ghandi in that I like Luther but not Lutherans. And although I never really gave full credit or respect to him over the last few years, I cannot help but thank God for him. But it isn’t just him. Its everyone on down through the ages that has worked to teach others the truth that Christ’s death and resurrection has actually done something in my life.

In recent years the message has become so tainted I tended to ignore it. But as I sit here tonight I can’t ignore it anymore because of how freeing and empowering that message actually is. What message? That God loves me. That in Christ God reconciled the world to himself not counting mans sins against him. That God in his fatherly goodness gives me the righteousness that is not my own. That Christ lived a life and obtained a status before God that he has actually given to me. That because God has defined me as a person redeemed by the work of Christ it does not matter what the world says about me, it does not matter what other people say about me, and it does not matter that I cannot understand or forgive myself for things I have done in the past. God has declared me to be his own and that means that my life isn’t defined by this world, but by a God who loved me enough to restore the broken relationship without my help. By a God who promises to be there no matter the circumstance. By a God who cannot help but look at me with loving eyes, not because of anything I have or haven’t done, but because of His Son. By a God who loves not only me, but you too. Because everything that is true about this message in my life is true in yours too.

So often in life I find myself trying to fit into a mold. I try to be the best husband. The best student. The best son and brother and friend and advocate. But I continually fail to live up to the expectation of others and of myself. I piss people off. I make fun of them. I don’t make the right decisions. I ignore people who need my help. I do not actually take this forgiveness and new life I have found and use it to help others. But somehow thats ok. I don’t understand it. I cannot wrap my head around it. Nothing I do or don’t do can change the fact that God has made me his own and he has done the same for you.

The world is a broken place. Hatred. Injustice. Myopic understandings of how we treat others often not only precludes relationships between human beings but destroys the self worth and understanding people have of themselves. In my own eyes I know I am not good enough. I know I am more than f***ed up beyond all recognition. But the beauty of this fractured and broken life and world is that the world does not have the final say; it does not define who we actually are. God has something to say in the face of the voices in our head and in the world that remind us how fractured and broken we are. He tells us that loves us. He tells you that in his eyes you are perfect. Complete. His beautiful creation. No matter who you are. No matter what you’ve done. No matter what you will do tomorrow. No matter what you say about yourself or the world says about you, God has spoken about you. His word? You are beautiful.

I’m sure it was difficult for any of us to ignore or be ignorant of the significance of today. Turn on the TV, check the paper, watch the opening of the football season, go to church, and a whole host of other activities served to remind me of the date. 9/11. To be sure this is a day to remember, never to forget the loss and tragic events of a decade ago. However, rather than spend time relaying the story of where I was and what I experienced, which I am sure pales in comparison to others, I want to talk about today, because today is a day I won’t soon forget.

As part of my internship I get the pleasure of attending a church where people are kind and welcoming and genuinely seem to care about who I am as a person. People are always quick with a kind word of encouragement or a sarcastic remark to lighten the mood. Sometimes though, the words people speak have implications far beyond what they intended or imagined and today, that was something I experienced this weekend as I sat and listened to a sermon.

It was by accident I ended up at all three services this weekend. I wasn’t sure when Sunday school teachers were going to be recognized so I decided I would go to all three. Fittingly, it would seem, the sermon focused on Matthew 18:22, a story of Peter asking Jesus how many times he should forgive someone who sins against him. Of course, the answer is never one someone wants to hear, a numerical value hyperbolizing the reality that there is no limit to forgiveness. The first time I heard the sermon I thought he was speaking directly to me. By the middle of the second time, I was sure of it.

I make it no secret that I have struggled through my life with the tradition of my childhood. In particular I felt wronged by those who I thought were supposed to care about me. I became so embittered by my experiences that by the time I made it to seminary I could hardly bring myself to be optimistic about anything having to do with the LCMS. This bitterness is coupled with a fear and love which I cannot ignore. I have encountered so many wonderful people in my life many of whom have a connection to that same place I call home. But I was always afraid to embrace certain aspects of Lutheranism. I used important books containing theological confessions as doorstops because I knew how people wielded them.  I was too afraid to look at them and entertain the idea that the confession held within those pages was the same one I held in my heart.

So when I arrived on the campus of the seminary in St. Louis I was scared and bitter, and when I left, I was even worse. Today I realized its time to forgive. To let go of the past. I don’t know if you can actually forgive an abstract non corporeal system but today I did. As I listened to that sermon today I knew that the one thing I never gave, the one thing I always held back was grace and forgiveness. The irony of this isn’t lost on me. Lutheranism defines itself by the grace it has received through the redemptive work of Christ on the cross and it was the one thing I never gave.

It shouldn’t surprise me because the same has been true of me when it comes to dealing with people in my family. I get annoyed far sooner with those whose blood I share than with those I hardly know. I am so slow to give them the benefit of the doubt and it has hurt relationships in my family. As I work to fix those and rebuild what was lost it has become incumbent on me to do the same to that which I love and call home. It doesn’t mean I’ll forget my experiences but it will allow me to move forward, because there is a road ahead of me I don’t want to walk.

As I thought about how I had been wronged I realized how complicit I was. I realized there are things I need to apologize for. Things I need to seek forgiveness for. People I never gave a fair shake to. Ideas I was once afraid to engage I have to take seriously. The time ahead of me is not one I look forward to, yet to that time I must go. It is to those people I have to reconcile. It is with my past I need to make peace.

And yet  the most beautiful part of today was not in realizing the forgiveness I need to give and receive from others, but of the forgiveness I have received. The forgiveness that was purchased on a lonely hill outside the city walls. The forgiveness that is extend to anyone and everyone, no matter who they are and what they have done. Sitting there in church today I realized how broken I really was. How prideful  and arrogant I am. How entitled I feel. Like somehow I was the only one who did things right.

Perhaps most fittingly today is 9/11 and everywhere I look I see signs with the same message… Never Forget. Although they have a specific meaning for this country and those affected on this day they have a special meaning for me. Reminding me never to forget what happened. Never forget where I came from, the moments that made me bitter, the moments that brought pride and arrogance, the moments that caused me to walk away. But also never to forget to forgive. To forgive myself and others. To let go of the pain, the bitterness, and all that goes with it. And never to forget how hard the road ahead is going to be. Forgiveness and reconciliation is never easy, but its something I can never forget.