Tag Archives: current events

paradoxical justice

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These past few weeks have flown by. It feels like just yesterday I was getting ready to go through orientation and here I sit, weeks later, knee deep in classes and midway through the 23rd Symposium. The “Theological Symposium” put on by Concordia Seminary is an event that happens every year, at least for the last 23, where people come together to think about and discuss a prudent topic. This year the theme is, “Doing Justice: The Church’s Faith In Action.”

A timely topic no doubt, but, perhaps inevitably, the conversation has vacillated between the poles of guarding against turning the Gospel into something purely social and the importance of recognizing the felt needs of our neighbors, the ones next door and the ones across the pond. The presenters have done a masterful job wading through the murky waters and have helped sketch the landscape we encounter daily. In an invaluable way they has reminded us, at least have reminded me, that, as one presenter Kathryn Galchutt, said, “Both justice and mercy begin at home, they just do not stay there.”  ‎But, as what tends to happen when we begin talking about something, the conversation has taken on a decided tone; one that, in my opinion, limits our understanding of justice.

Let me first say that I do not think this was intentional, nor do I think it is necessarily problematic, I am merely conveying what I have experienced this first day. The tone, for lack of a better word, has to do with justice being understood as meeting a felt need. Conversations, important and necessary conversations, have been held concerning how we help those who need to eat, who need a job, a home, and more help than perhaps any single person can provide. Additionally, we have been reminded of our complacency and complicit role in systemic evil.  All of this important, but in the end, all of it limits the scope of justice to a single idea,  aid. A need exists for whatever reason, justice invokes the necessary methodology through which that need is met, and that reason is eradicated.

Several times throughout the day I have been reminded of Gustaf Wingren and his notion that, “God does not need our works but our neighbor does.” As a church body we have admittedly had a history of being quietistic, for good or bad, when it comes to issues of justice. The obvious examples of the times we have become vocal need not be mentioned. Suffice it to say, we know how to take a stand sometimes we just prefer not to, unless, of course, the Gospel is at stake. This too is extremely important. We do not want to cheapen, imbrue, or lose that which has been gifted to us. We protect it at all costs and sometimes that leads us down roads most, inside and outside our circles, just do not understand. But Wingren, and indeed this entire symposium, calls us to remember that there are physical and spiritual needs that must be met. While the church’s unique responsibility is unburdening the conscience, it is not her only responsibility.

But thinking of justice, I wonder if, as I alluded to earlier, we are defining it too narrowly. We are, for better or worse, tying up justice with materialistic concerns which are of vital importance.Whether it is the inexhaustible work of LWR to aid and develop or the work of congregations who care for illegal immigrants or those who have nothing, we are working with a concept of justice that inadvertently glosses over emotions. Certainly our discussions on dignity and human worth have hinted at this but they too have ended with or moved toward the idea that we should actually meet the physical need of a person. But what about the injustice that exists within families? The son who feels like a second class citizen. The wife who doesn’t recognize the person she married. The bread winner who works to provide yet feels invisible. These too, as Bernhard Seter would say, fall under the category of, “I may not be able to define justice or injustice, but I know it when I see it.”

And we Lutherans have always had a way of dealing with these or any other theological tensions, we simply label them a paradox and continue one with life. Our theological presuppositions are rife with paradox, saint and sinner, now and not yet, etc. Even today I am reminded that there is again this tension between unburdening the conscience and filling the stomach. But I wonder if we run to that fire escape a little too often. It is easier to chalk it up to paradox than risk everything by facing the fire head on. Our theology is something we can hide behind all too easily and in doing so, betray the principle that allows us the freedom to live and think as Lutherans, because paradox isn’t an excuse, its a weapon.

We live in a world that isn’t fair. Being born in America is more of a privilege than we will ever know. Getting an education is a privilege all to often understood as a burden. As one presenter put it, “Being born in America is like winning the lottery of life.” Yet we still murder, rape, and exploit our neighbors. We still look to our own interests. We still turn way the beggar and toward that which we don’t need but can afford. And despite this reality, we live. We care for one another. We volunteer to tutor, we create programs that teach people how to care for themselves and their families, physically and spiritually. We look the beggar in the eye and give him the dignity befitting a human being. And the only way that can make sense is through a word like paradox. It is a both/and, it always will be.

That is of course until all is made new. While Christ’s death and resurrection have secured the future of all creation, the benefits are waiting in escrow. And until that day when we together with all creatures are made new we live a life with the recognition that life is up and down all at the same time. Rather than letting the realization that, to play on Christ’s words,  we will always have the poor, destitute, and hurting whether it be physical, mental, or spiritual with us always paralyze us into quietism, we can enter into life unafraid with an unswerving confidence in the future. Because while today thousands will die, one day Christ will return and put all things in order. While we live with evil and good today, tomorrow will know only joy. While we live with, and will always live with injustice this side of Christ’s return, on the other side there is nothing but justice. The justice of pardon brought forth by His blood. The justice that levels the playing field, restoring all things to their proper place. The justice of the cross and empty tomb. The justice that can only come when He comes again.

a fresh start?

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As the calendar page is about to turn once again, a new chapter in my life is beginning. Over two months have passed since I last tried to get this blog a sense of regularity, and who knows, maybe one day it will find that. But rather than apologize and give weak excuses for my lack of activity I am just going to push forward.

A new address, a new school, and a new quarter is about to begin. Yet, despite its newness, this is a continuation of something that I began four years ago. The rest of my week is going to be filled with two days of orientation and an opening service all leading up to next week when classes resume. Only, this isn’t my first orientation or opening service or even my first quarter here. In the fall of 2008 I began work toward my M.Div. at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis. I had no idea what would happen over the next two years, but at the end of my second year I left. Two more years pass, and my journey here resumes.

It is tempting to want a fresh start, to put all of the past hurt and anger behind me as if it didn’t happen. But to do so would be to ignore everything I have experienced throughout the past four years. So rather than want a fresh start, I want to pick up here I left off with an informed mindset, ready to continue having spent time on the other side of the street. I don’t know what my future will hold here but I do know, for maybe the first time, that I belong here, and that makes all the difference.

If I were to be honest about my last trip down seminary way I was unsure of my place. I could barely stomach calling myself a seminarian much less a Lutheran one. I wasn’t comfortable in my identity nor my place in the institution. So rather than look for the best in those around me, I found it much easier, and much more entertaining, to find the worst. It became commonplace for me and my close group of friends to sit outside the chapel or in an archway, have a drink, and scoff. We took pride in it. Classes and the lunch table were places we found our material, and at night it became our own little version of stand up comedy. It was as cathartic as it was corrupting. I don’t regret those times because they gave rise to now cherished memories and lasting friendships. I do, however, need to be honest about them because this time around, the scoffers club is no more.

I wish it were that easy to say my attitude is completely different. To  be sure I do not hold the grudges anymore no do I look for the worst, in fact, I have a sense of belonging there I didn’t have before. But that doesn’t mean the nicety of the campus is what I expect. My experiences cause me to fear what might be coming down the pipe. Apprehension may be a better world but the idea is the same. I know what this was like the first time around and I am leery that it is waiting for me just around the corner. I am happy to say that as of now, I haven’t come face to face with the problems of my past. My experiences in my returning to the seminary are decidedly different than those of my initial venture. I am continually met with warmth and care and I hope this community continues on that track.

But what if it doesn’t? What if three weeks in it morphs into the beast of my past experience? Should I run? Do I fight? How do I move on if it turns out this is just a facade? Frankly, I don’t know and I hope never have to. But in reality not every day will be the warm and comforting sort. As is normal in life, stress will mount, things will be said, opinions expressed and feelings hurt. That is simply the nature of humanity. We care more about ourselves than the person next to us. Sure we all have our moments of piety, care, and concern but by and large my opinion is always more important than yours simply because it mine. My life is more important than yours because I am the one living it. Don’t mistake what I am saying, I don’t mean that I am actually more important, only that as I walk through life I live as though that were true. All humanity does. And it is precisely this reason that makes me happy I don’t have a fresh start, not here on campus or in my everyday life.

Fresh starts are funny things. With the past removed we finally have the chance to do things right. But the fact is, we will never do things right. We may choose a better option, but perfection is impossible. I’ve heard it put many times that the Gospel, that the forgiveness of sins is like a do-over, like a fresh start, but I don’t like that phraseology. It implies that by being forgive I can actually move forward and do things right this time, and if I don’t, I get another chance. Truth be told, I don’t want the chance to do things right. That is too much pressure. That is too much stress. If God is giving me a chance to be perfect I better not blow it. Because with every chance to be perfect, with every fresh start, is the crushing reality of imperfection and failure.

So, how then do I live my life? If I know that with every fresh start is the reality of failure life seems pretty pointless because I’ll never get it right. But here is the difference, and the reason why I think that phraseology does no good, forgiveness is not a do-over, it is a promise. It is a promise that no matter how many times you do or don’t make the right decision you are forgiven. It is a promise that no matter who we help, ourselves or our neighbors, at the cross we were all worth it. It is a promise that no matter where we do or do not belong, in God’s eyes we are always His children. And here comes the reality that reshapes our identity. Because my life isn’t about living right or wrong, it is about living, period. It is about having the freedom to care for others because I know I am cared for. It is about recognizing my place in the world and living in that place gladly. It is about the fact that the good and bad I do don’t matter to God, they matter to my neighbor.

Gustaf Wingren once wrote, “God does not need your good works, but your neighbor does.” And here I think we find the middle ground for that problematic notion that faith without works is dead. Because in faith we are freed from the bonds of life that push us to be better for ourselves. Free from the bonds of having to prove our worth to God and our place in society. Free to love and serve in the places we find ourselves with the work that is before our hands. This is why a fresh start is a bad idea, because I will never get it right, and the beauty of it is, I don’t have to. I don’t need a do-over, I have a promise. A promise that lasts longer than my ability to do things right. A promise that allows me to live and love despite hurt and pain, fear and sorrow, struggle and corruption. A promise given to me in the waters of my baptism where God claimed me as his own. A promise spoken in absolution and preached in a sermon. A promise I taste in bread and wine. A promise that frees the conscience and unburdens the soul. A promise that, as the Word of the Lord, endures forever.

dust you are…

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Februrary 22, 2012 marks a very important day to many people. It is a day when people turn their eyes to something in the past which defined a people and forever encapsulated victory in the hearts of those who witnessed it and those who tell the story. What event? The Miracle on Ice. What did you think I was talking about?

32 years ago a group of scrappy college kids, who began their journey as enemies, finished it as brothers and in doing so defeated the greatest hockey team in the world. Gold Medalists in 1956, 1964, 1968, 1972, 1976, and later on 1984 and 1988, the Soviet Union were by far the greatest hockey team of that era. On only two occasions had they not acieved Olympic God, with America claiming gold in 1960 and 1980. To say that the US team was an underdog that afternoon in Lake Placid would an understatement. Yet they overcame the odds and took down that big bad Soviet bear. For some the game was about national pride, for others, it was a hockey game played out on the greatest stage in the world. Yet, no matter who witnessed it or told the story, this moment helped to restore hope to a nation. It is remembered as one of the few moments, like those in the national consciousness, that people can recall with accuracy where they were when it happened. And while this moment may not mean much to some, for other it is one of the greatest sports moments in American history.

So why bring it up other than the fact that I am a nerd about this kind of thing and proudly own a replica sweater of that 1980 US Men’s Hockey Team? I mean, I didn’t witness it. The closest thing I can come to that is a condensed version of the game ESPN classic put out. I also didn’t know anyone who participated it, though I do know a Mark Johnson and can’t help but think of number 10 whenever I hear that name. I bring it up because in recounting events of the past I become a part of the story, not as a central actor in it, but in one of the many who pass it on.

Wednesday nights during my senior year of college were spent at a local bar because it was the one night of the week they had Rockband/Guitar Hero just like bars have karaoke. A group of us, who spent way to much time playing that game in our dorms, would take to the “instruments” and play our hearts out on expert, and much fun was had by all. Not just us mind you, people in the bar. Just like karaoke provides entertainment, so does kids playing a video game. One of these fabled Wednesdays saw a young man capture the attention of everyone in the bar. The song, Through Fire and Flames by Dragonforce is easily one of, if not the toughest songs to play in the collection at that time. Yet play it he did, and all eyes in that bar turned to him and cheered wildly as he did what others could only dream of doing, beating that difficult song. When the song ended, he walked up to the bar and took a free shot, sat back down, and barely said another word. That kid playing guitar hero in a bar was Matt Nix. Retelling stories, whether they are about one of the greatest moments in US Hockey history or a kid playing guitar hero in a bar, connect the hearers to the event and in doing so invites them to participate in that event anew.

Over the past year/few months I have been reconnecting with the roots of Lutheranism, rediscovering the beautiful depth and breadth of her theology and practice, and embracing again her paradoxical spirituality. What do I mean by that? That the Word of God, which is the Bible but not only the Bible, has the power to communicate in a tangible way, the grace of Christ on a cross. That the waters of Baptism save, as within them we are buried with Christ and rise with Him in his resurrection. That in the bread and wine we receive the body and blood of Christ and we taste His forgiveness. These things, known to us as word and sacrament, define our lives because we recognize them as the places where God comes to us, not because we determined them to do that, but because God promised to be there among the common elements of language, water, bread and wine. And these things, rather than acting in a magical way despite my disposition, force me to continually be confronted with my brokenness and inability to be the person I should and do not simply point me to the place to find restoration, actually restore me. In them God pronounces upon me the forgiveness of the Cross, even when i don’t feel it, understand it, or live it out. They act outside of myself, and bring to me something I can be sure of. Why? Because God promised to be there, and He is trustworthy.

But why bring this up in light of the other stories? Because Wednesday February 22, 2012 marks another date, Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. This season is one that pushes the church to remember the march to the cross and reminds her of her need to continually turn from herself to Christ, the one in whose footsteps we walk, in whose cross we are forgiven, and in whose resurrection we are made alive. The time of Lent, the story it tells, is one that invites us to participation. Not simply to gain an understanding, learn how to live rightly, or engage in a mystical act which brings us closer to God, but to journey with Christ to His cross and through his tomb. In short, it is just like every other day, only it isn’t.

Traditionally, Ash Wednesday begins with people hearing words that are more than a little unnerving. “Dust you are and to dust you shall return.” As these words are spoken, the sign of the cross is made upon a persons forehead using ashes from last years palm branches. It begins with an invitation to embrace your frailty, your inability to cheat that which is common to all mankind, death. But this embrace is not one that leaves you empty, at least not indefinitely. That part of the story is held back until that day we celebrate the glorious resurrection of Easter. Only for now, we wait, faced with our own mortality, reminded of our utter brokenness. It is the brokenness that now separates us from the coach of those college kids and that kid who played Guitar Hero.

Dust you are and to dust you shall return. Death confronts us all, and make no mistake, it is our enemy. But when death comes knocking, we need not be afraid. For in Baptism, we have died already, and having died with Christ, we will rise again with Him. A resurrection of the body. And while the story of lent is going to push and stretch in ways unimaginable, while the story of life is going to be filled with trouble and suffering, while the inevitability of death will lurk around us until it greets us, we need not fear. The journey doesn’t end in a closed casket, the door stands open. Dust you are, and to dust you shall return. Yet hope remains…

you’ll never walk alone…

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Two more weeks have come and gone. The quarter is well underway and I have more homework to do than ever before, only, that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll do it all. Well, after years of wondering and waiting if it would ever happen to me, I finally have a conversion story. I am proud to admit that I am a fan of European Football, more specifically, of Liverpool Football Club.  This is due in large part to the FIFA ’12 game I purchased on the iPad after Christmas this year. A 99cent price tag was enticing enough to give the game other countries call football a try. Admittedly, I never liked it that much, not even during World Cup play. I remember playing it as a kid for the Lombard Park District for one season, and not being all that good. Maybe that’s why I never gave it a real chance, boy have I missed out.

At first it was a way to pass the time a work or to avoid homework. But the more I played the game the more I wanted to play. I decided to start a career mode and chose the only team I knew, Manchester United. After two seasons on the easy level, I was ready for a challenge. Having now been exposed to other teams, I settled on the one whose crest spoke to my heart. Call it what you will, but when I looked at the words across the top of Liverpool’s crest, I knew I found the team I’d root for, the team that is now my own.

You’ll Never Walk Alone. A song from a long forgotten musical has been the anthem of a club nearly a quarter of the way around the world from where I live. My curiosity grew and the more I looked in to the history of the club the more amazed I became. Not only had I found a new love for a game I once hated, I was finding out part of the story that, beyond the accolades, is one of triumph over adversity, especially for the fans. What I am referring to is the Hillsborough Disaster of 1989 when 96 fans lost their lives. On that day the authorities failed to do their job both in controlling who entered where, and, in the aftermath of the devastating crushes, caring for the injured. Justice has never been done.

But on that day those fans broke down signs and used them as stretchers. Those with medical training used it on the man or woman next to them. People helped people escape, not because they were fellow Liverpool fans, but because of the character ingrained in every one of them. The same character which is embodied on their crest in four small words: You’ll Never Walk Alone. Needless to say I’m hooked. My transformation became complete this week when a package arrived for me bearing Liverpool FC paraphernalia.

But lest you think all I have done these last few weeks is play a game on my iPad and drool over a new obsession, I also succumbed to the arguments which circled the famous video entitled “Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus” often shortened to Jesus>Religion. When I first saw the video my thoughts weren’t warm and my words were less than kind. The firestorm it created served only to further my opposition to it. Whoever this guy was, he was arrogance and ignorance veiled in humility and relevance and I couldn’t stand it. Apparently I wasn’t alone as the several video responses attest to that fact.

Two video responses which seemed to be the most watched are from a Lutheran pastor and a Catholic priest. While some claim the Lutheran one is arrogant and annoying, I think it is actually the better of the two. Why? Not simply because I agree with the position and articulation of the pastor, but because it exposes the original one for what it is. The first video is as, if not more, arrogant than the response, only it doesn’t seem so because it paints a picture people want to express. A point of view similar to one I have expressed at various times. But here is the problem, it isn’t completely fair and honest. It picks and chooses. It paints the picture it wants to paint.

Nevertheless, he is being honest about one thing, something problematic within not only Christianity, but humanity. He is talking about the complete and utter brokenness and inability of people to care for one another. In a word, sin. Nothing demonstrates more man’s inability to be humble toward one another than the fact that I am writing about a video that caused so much controversy. Look at the number of denominations and it doesn’t take long to figure out that Christians have a problem with sin. Look at the world and it doesn’t take long to figure out that everyone has the same problem. The question is, how are we going to deal with it.

The video produced another response, this time from a Muslim. This one I feel to be the most problematic, simply because I disagree with the picture it paints. That is not to say I am angry or bigoted toward the Islamic faith. However, this response demonstrates the reality that everyone has an opinion on something, rather, on someone. Some say he didn’t exist at all. Some say he was just a man. Others that he was a great teacher and that he pointed others to knowledge of a greater reality. Still others suggest he had feelings one way or another on certain subjects. But what about you, who do you say that he is? The He I am referring to is Jesus the Christ, and the way you answer that question has a direct impact on how you answer the one posed in the previous paragraph.

In the book of Matthew there is a story of Jesus asking his disciples who they think he is. Peter answers, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” This claim sets the stage for everything else that follows, not only in the chapter, but in the narrative itself. What separates Christianity is how it answers the question of who Christ is. Some say it is love, but love is found everywhere. Some say that it is hope, but hope is always to be found. Some say it is morality, but often it is those who supposed have no external moral guide are the ones who prove the most moral. It is not an action, an idea, or a standard of living which separates Christianity, it is Christ Himself.

So then, how do we deal with the fact that the world is broken as a people who confess with Peter that Jesus is the Christ? We don’t, He does. The problem with all those videos is that they place upon Christ mantles which may or may not belong. I’m not one to tell you how or what Jesus thinks, but I can tell you what I believe he did. I can tell you what the scriptures testify to him doing, but I cannot believe it on your behalf or turn it into something I want it to be. Sin is dealt with not by us loving one another better, but by the blood shed on our behalf. Sin doesn’t lose if we learn to bring hope to the darkest places, it lost because he broke through the grave. Sin doesn’t go away because I’ve done better today than yesterday, it is eradicated because His righteousness has been exchanged for humanities brokenness.

This Christ, the one who took on sin, death, and the power of the devil, He is alive. He is inside those broken people who fail to feed the poor. He is inside those people who corrupt the church and turn her into something she was never meant to be. He is inside those who care deeply in thought and action for those in greatest of need. He is inside those who comfort those who mourn and visit those who are sick. He is inside sinner and saint. He walks alongside empowering people to be more than they ever thought they could, and picking up those who fall to the deepest depths. This is what it means to follow Him. To recognize that this side of eternity things will always be good and bad. That following him doesn’t mean we will get it right, as if that were even possible. It’s not black and white like supporting a football team or joining a club. Following Christ is not about those who follow, it is about the one who leads.  It is not that we would be perfect, but that we would never walk alone.

the men, the myths, the legends… JoePa and Luther

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For the past several days now it seems the biggest news story has involved college football icon Joe Paterno. Last night both the president of the university and JoePa were removed from their respective positions. But I wonder why so many people are clamoring for more. The alleged details of the situation are somewhat sketchy because it was an assistant that walked in on the man who actually is charged with rape who then told Paterno and then JoePa told the Athletic Director. In the eyes of the law Paterno fulfilled his duties and cannot be held culpable but it seems like more and more people expected him to do more and are now thrilled with his dismissal. Only, the assistant that actually walked in on the act, he’s still on the coaching staff at Penn State right now.

This is what is so intriguing to me about how people are reacting to this story and why it is getting so much media attention right now. The assistant walked into the shower room and found a young boy with an older man and did nothing. He did not remove the boy, he did not call the police, he walked down the hall, told JoePa and now JoePa’s 61 year legacy at Penn State is tarnished. Could JoePa have done more? Yes. Could this assistant have done even more? Yes. In fact each and every person associated with this scenario could have done and should have done more. That’s the problem.

No doubt this is a tragic situation, not only were young boys sexually assaulted, which would be enough to declare this situation tragic, but people proved their inability to care for other members of humanity. What I can’t figure out is why this is so shocking. Turn on the news every day and you will hear stories of rape, murder, fraud, betrayal and more too horrific to describe. It happens here at home in the US and it happens overseas. Families are separated, people are kidnapped, young children forced into becoming soldiers or worse, forced into the sexual slave trade, lent out to the highest bidder. Yet it is the situation at Penn State that has the media up in arms because JoePa didn’t do enough. Well guess what? Nobody does enough.

Today also marks another day in history. On November 10th, 1483 little Martin Luther took his first breaths. This is a guy who is responsible in large part for the defining event of the 16th century in Europe and in the Church, the Protestant Reformation. His little sheet of paper containing the now famous 95 thesis was not meant to change the world, it was offered up with the idea that some scholarly debate could be had. But guess what? He pissed off the wrong people and the rest is history. Yet for all the great things he did and all the fantastic theology that came from his pen people find his image tarnished. A black mark he can’t seem to escape is his little treatise about the Jews and their lies. Another one is how he wouldn’t come to the defense of peasants during their war but rather sided with the government and told that government to crush them. In fact, I could go on and on with story after story that people use to stain the legacy of Luther but I don’t need to because the point is clear, nobody does enough.

Scandals rock the world day in and day out because those people in leadership or those people who should know better don’t act like it. But what if they did? What if people acted the way they should act in and every situation they were ever presented from here on out? Would that guarantee happiness and joy for each and every person on this planet? Not by a long shot. Because the problem with humanity is not its inability to live according to the best way possible. The problem is that the ability doesn’t exist. I could sit here and wonder what life could be like if we all just got along only we can’t, its not realistic. Humanity at its deepest level is broken.

When a baby is born this is perhaps most obvious because the kid cares only for its own well being. As cute and cuddly as it appears, those cries and squawks and coos are all that kids way of reminding you that his or hers needs outweigh yours, that they are more important. We spend the rest of our lives trying to come to the realization that what we thought as a baby, our most primal instincts, isn’t true. That other people matter just as much as we do. No baby comes out of the womb with a note saying, “Go to bed mom I can wait to be fed.” No child is born with a cry that means, “Take some time for yourself dad I can wait to be changed.” This is one of the few things that is true of all human beings, our selfish nature. We have to teach kids to share. We have to teach the value of human life because it is not understood from the get go.

Thinking about people who have really stepped out and messed things up like Hitler, Chairman Mao, or any of the government officials who advocated the slaughtering of the natives so our borders could stretch from sea to shining sea it’s not so hard to see the humanity in them. Because they were living out the most primal desire of human beings, self preservation. Don’t get me wrong, Im not applauding or holding them up as exemplary figures in human history but before one goes accusing them as being monstrous one should first realize that monster also has a face and behind that face is the desire everyone has as a child.

So if this world sucks so much and if people are so broken what chance in hell do we have of making this world a better place? We don’t. People like JoePa and Luther remind us that even the best and brightest of us will screw up, sometimes irrevocably. But that does not mean this world is devoid of hope. It does not mean that there is nothing to which we can turn because there is. Christ. As fundamentalist as it sounds, the answer lies in the cross and resurrection because that event has redefined human existence. The truth of Christianity is not found in a code of conduct for a better life. It cannot be grasped fully and applied in a way that guarantees a better life. The truth of Christianity, that which it holds most dear is Christ himself. The living Son of God who took on this world and all it had to offer and defeated it. In that moment on the cross Christ took on all of the rape, murder, kidnapping, fraud and betrayal this world had to offer and when he rose again the power of those things was made null and death itself was destroyed.

That is what means to believe in a resurrected God, to stand in recognition of a reality greater than the one presented to us on a daily basis. But what does it look like to live in recognition of that? Well, in a lot of ways thats easier to understand than the event itself. Because when I recognize that all the things that plague me, all the things that bring fear to my life have been stamped out I can start living for others. The power of the resurrection in the life of a Christian is not the power to cure everything, escape all suffering, or live a life abundant in wealth, it is the power to be free from fear of this life. Fear that my needs won’t be met. Fear that it could end at any minute. Fear that I won’t be able to live up to the standard. The resurrection removes fear, defeats its power, declares it dead and declares you and I secure for all time. Yet it is up to us to determine how we will live in that security…

hey jude

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Social media is buzzing right now with news of the Cardinal victory. I have seen more status updates related to the World Series than I have ever seen before. For some this World Series will go down as one of the greatest ever played, for others, well they could give a rip.

Although I am always intrigued by baseball and especially those games played in October, when my team doesn’t make it, I tend not to care all that much. Only this year I feel a little slighted. Although the Cardinals won with determination, I’m not sure game 7 was as fairly called as it could have been. This is one of the most wonderful yet frustrating things about baseball, the lack of a replay system. While the Rangers failed to score after the first and it was the home run that made it 3-2 that really was the deciding factor the subsequent runs scored by the Cardinals were less than fair. Watching replays of a 3-2 pitch called a ball clearly showed it was a strike which loaded. More blown calls led to another run and the rest as they say is history. I am not saying you can or should blame the umps for the game. Texas had more than enough opportunities and the Cardinals fought hard and won that game, but it makes me wonder what the game would have looked like if that pitch had been called as it really was, a strike.

It always makes me wonder as I look back on the events of my life if I had changed one decision here or there if it would have ended up the way it is now. Take for example my decision to leave the seminary in St. Louis. This is by no means a small decision. Had I stayed my time in seminary would likely be ending in May rather than December. I wouldn’t have to worry about the potential colloquy process. And while there stands a list of things I wouldn’t have to worry about there is an equally impressive list of things that never would have happened. I wouldn’t have worked for Whole Foods or Apple. I wouldn’t have ended up at a great internship congregation. Friendships I have made here at Northern would not exist. Yet they do, and here I am.

I am always amazed at how life seems to change directions whether I like it or not. Sometimes it is as a direct result of my decisions, other times it isn’t. Regardless of my culpability, change cannot be avoided. Surely people try to avoid it though. Even if the means and opportunity are there some would rather sit back and stay put, often times because it seems like the easier thing to do. However, sometimes the cards are stacked too high against someone to see the possibility of change. Sometimes the means are not there for it to take place. And even in those situations where change seems like an impossibility it rears its ugly head whether we like it or not. So the question then is not how can we avoid change but how do we react to it?

Different people respond to life differently. Not an overwhelming statement I know, but one that needs to be restated. Just because I do things one way does not mean it is good or right for someone else to do things the same way. I may be ready for something you are not and vice versa. So what? Who cares? Why talk about it? Because so often people get caught idealizing a response to a situation and that ideal paralyzes them.

Take the example of Luther for one. As Protestants everywhere remember Martin Luther and other Reformers this weekend they often view those examples as ones that cannot be imitated or duplicated. Martin Luther stood up to too big of an enemy how can I do the same thing? Is it even possible. And then there are others who see that example and feel it is incumbent upon them to do likewise and stand up for things even when nothing actually needs to be stood up for. But what people forget is that Luther was a guy who lived life his own way. Sure history remembers him a certain way, but his life is no more important than mine or yours. His life is no more important than the child starving overseas or the homeless guy down the block. His life is no more important than the person battling those inner demons of self deprecation or the one battling cancer.

Therein lies the point, no one life matters more than another yet we often act as though it does. We look up to sports heroes, shapers of society, and archetypes of altruism in an effort to teach ourselves how we should live because these people apparently had it right. Sometimes we don’t even look in reality for heroes. My childhood heroes donned jumpsuits and proton packs and battled a demon named Gozer and a Carpathain madman named Vigo. In fact their examples so impacted my life that during college I was asked to write a world view paper and that world view was based off what I learned from Ghostbusters.

I wasn’t the only one who reached back to something from their childhood to define a worldview either. My dearest friend, next to my wife of course, wrote about a song that had shaped his life. Hey Jude by the Beatles. “Take a sad song and make it better.” That sad song my friend knew was the one about his own life, a life similar to my own. Divorced parents and financial struggles. Self image issues and self deprecating attitudes. Yet he found a way to make a sad song better when he married his best friend. Even now, as struggles continue and new ones pop up I know he can adapt to them, not because of the heroes of his past, but because of who I know he is and who surrounds him, whether he sees it or not.

Yet the struggles don’t go away. Not for him. Not for you. Not for me. Not for any of us. We are often caught wondering how life would have been if this or that had not happened. We wonder what we could have done differently. We pretend that we now know the best course of action and if we could only get back to that moment that changed us we could fix life as we know it. Only theres one problem with that, it won’t happen. We cannot change the past. Apart from wild dreams and imaginative movies we haven’t figured out how to go back in time to right the wrongs or fix what was broken. All we can do is look forward.

As I survey the situation in life I am in right now I know that at any minute all of it could change. I could lose it all. And even if that happened I know I can make it through. Not because of the great examples of others, but because of the presence of others in my life. It’s amazing how much we actually do matter to each other whether we recognize it or not. Those great examples we look to often have others whom they relied upon and gained strength from. So rather than reach for those examples we should reach for those around us. Even more so, we should reach out to those around us to make known the love and support they might find if they need it.

Even now as I sit back and think about how life is always going to change, sometimes for the very worst. Even now as I think to myself how great it would be if we all realized how interdependent upon one another we really are. Even now as one day comes to a close and another is about to begin I am reminded of those words that talk about taking a sad song and making it better. Sure we can try to do it on our own, but we don’t have to. In the end that might be what taking a sad song and making it better is all about.

we’re blood brothers

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This Tuesday morning started off as any other I have had in recent weeks. After seeing my wife off to work I sluggishly moved back to bed to get an extra hour or two of sleep before I had to get ready and leave for Starbucks. Tuesdays are the days I meet with my internship supervisor and those meetings have been a real highlight for me. While its obvious that there are some differences in our approaches to things, I have never once doubted his care and support for me and for his congregation. Also at our meetings is another person integral to my internship and she as well has been nothing but supportive and kind to me as I continue my journey through seminary.

As we sat down this morning with our coffee in hand we began to discuss the suggested topic for the day, faith. I was taken aback by my inability to answer the question about my own faith. I certainly have the vocabulary. I know the text book answer but so often, as was the case today, I find it lacking. I can’t really find the right words to explain my faith and the role it plays in my life apart from tying it to specific experiences. I wonder though if thats the point. If faith can only be understood through experience. It’s easy to sit back and codify an answer based on varying texts. It’s easy to rely on the words of others to describe the concept of faith. But when it comes to painting the picture the only colors I can really use are the ones I have found in the experiences of my own life.

Personal experience is a powerful and authoritative source in life. It can build up or it can tear down. It doesn’t matter what it is actually building up or tearing down only that experience, perhaps more than anything else, does just that. While it would be nice to insert an example here sans any sort of actual application I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about why this Tuesday, although starting out the same as any other with that meeting, didn’t end the same. But in order to go further I must first go further back beyond today to over a year ago.

In July of 2010 my wife and I were newly married and wondering where it was life was going to take us. I hadn’t begun working for either Whole Foods or Apple and had not even entertained the idea of going to sem. Instead we were hoping that my wife would get a call to be a teacher at a school and we would move to wherever it was she received the call. Well in July as we vacationed with her family in New Hampshire my wife received a phone call from a pastor letting her know that the committee had decided to extend to her a call to be a teacher at St. Namehasbeenchanged Lutheran Church and School. After much deliberation and with sadness in her heart we actually turned that call down and in doing so our lives took on another direction. While we can look back and say that the direction it took is a fantastic one full of opportunities and joy we never thought that church and school would ever come back into the forefront of our thought. But today it did just that.

During my meeting my internship supervisor told me a story he had read about a pastor being caught in a prostitution sting. He was arrested and released and has since been removed from his position as pastor of that church. When he told me the name of the church, that it had a school, and the location I knew it was the same place we turned down a call to just over a year ago. Now let me make clear that I am not writing this as if to gloat that we made the right decision but rather because this scenario is a very real one that is affecting the lives of people we actually know. Not only did my wife and I go to the same college as the man who was the associate pastor and is now the sole pastor of this hurting congregation, but my wife actually grew up with him. Needless to say this story hits close to home.

So why bring it up? To condemn? To gloat? To show what happens when people make bad decisions? No. Not in the least. In fact although some of these may be tempting or have possible beneficial examples down the road once the pain has subsided,  the reason I bring it up is because this experience is shaping the lives of people in ways that were never imagined. This experience is redefining relationships and galvanizing people, hopefully for the better although surely it is possible the opposite is true too. What then should we do in the face of such a life altering and perspective defining experience? To be sure now is not the time to point fingers and wonder why. While hurt and pain are obvious on all sides of the equation perhaps the best thing one can do right now is come alongside those who are struggling and offer support as best you can. You may never know why he was in the position to be apprehended by the police but in the aftermath of such an experience we need to rise up in support of those who are hurting. Sure we can’t all run out and move to the location of this incident, but in an effort to honor and support that church we can do what they asked and pray for them during this time.

As if this incident were not enough I would be remiss if I didn’t speak to something else going on in the lives of some very dear friends of ours. To make a long and complicated, though no less interesting, story short I will simply say that those friends of ours are losing their home and place of employment because the directors feel a need to hang on to wealth. Now in both cases leadership has let down those who have been placed in their care. Whether it’s through personal choices to seek other avenues of companionship or through a misguided desire to possess all that has been given to them peoples lives are being shaped and defined by these difficult circumstances.

While it would be nice to think that all will come out of this unscathed the truth is that pain and suffering abound right now. I know it doesn’t take anyone long to look back into their past to find a time when they too were suffering. When one’s own life was being shaped by a difficult and painful experience. Personally I can think of a slew of experiences ranging from abuse to homelessness that have defined my own perspective on faith and life. And it is in having the ability each of us do to look into our past and find those skeletons in the closet that we are reminded of the fact that this world is, that we are, broken.

I suppose this post could have been a lot shorter than it actually is and I still could have come to the same conclusion. Thats the problem. In life there are no shortages on difficult and trying experiences. This world is a broken and hurting place and in the face of that we have a choice. We can become embittered by our experience  thinking that the world or God is out to get us. We can deny the experience is or has happened and like dust sweep it under the rug. Or we can confront them. By them of course I don’t just mean our own experiences, I mean the experiences of others. In trying times you and I always have a place, right beside the one who suffers. We may not be able to fix things. We may not be able to right the wrongs and heal the wounds but that does not mean we have no part to play. In fact, one might say it is the most important role one can play, a brother or sister standing side by side another. Because outside of the reality that we all live in a broken world is that we all live in it together, sharing the air we breath and the blood that runs through our veins. The question is, will we allow that reality to be the one that shapes our experience?

thank you Sarah…

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Tuesday of this week began like any other. I woke up early, as my wife and I have lost the ability to sleep in. I stepped out of the room for just a minute to find one thing or another and upon my return noticed a missed call and a text. Most days I tend to ignore things like this, a “if something is important they’ll call back” approach. That morning my approach was buttressed by the fact that the missed call was from someone with a young child, and I figured the kid accidentally dialed me. But the text, this was one I couldn’t ignore. My response to the text was met with a, hang on I’ll call you soon, but I could not wait for that so I cooked up a story about being at work, which was going to happen, just not until 1pm. It was then I was told that a friend from college was found dead in her apartment the day before. I was shocked.

My mind began to race with questions. How? Who found her? What happened? But at the time little was known and if it was known, people weren’t saying much. Those questions gave way to others. Who knows? How are my other friends taking it? How can I help? After texting a few other people and making some other phone calls I realized that there was no way I could handle going to work that day. Needless to say my mental and emotional state became compromised and it would stay that way for the next 48 hours.

To be sure there were others closer to her than me. In fact, I hadn’t seen or heard from her since graduation a couple of years ago. All I knew was that she ended up working out in Colorado and seeing as I was no where near there, she faded from my mind. Going to the small liberal arts college that I did, it was hard not to know just about everyone. She was part of my larger group of friends throughout school. We would all eat meals together in the cafeteria, watch movies together, and of course, shoot the shit at the bars every once in a while. But like every group of friends there were those times when conversations became heated, sarcastic remarks were made, and feelings were hurt. And as much as I would love to believe that I never really hurt someone with my sarcasm I know I’ve pissed off and hurt more than a few. My relationship with her would vacillate between the former and the latter all throughout college. That day of graduation was the last I would see of her, never giving it a second thought until I got that text letting me know she had passed.

This is the first time in my life I have dealt with the death of someone my own age. I did not know how to handle it. In a word it was surreal. It did not seem like the conversations I was having throughout the day about her were real. Surely someone from that group of friends could not all of a sudden be dead, I mean, we are all mid twenties, on the way to starting our post collegiate lives. In an instant though, it all changed. The meaning of certain things in life was suddenly no where to be found. My job for example. I love where I work. I have never worked for a better company or have known that I am valued by my managers and coworkers, not only as an employee but as a person. Yet, the 48 hours that followed that text called in to question the value of what I was doing. I even considered quitting my job because of the lack of meaning it suddenly held for me. After all, essentially all I do is sell people things, things they can’t take with them. Sure now the toys are wonderful and enrich your life, but in an instant all of that can change.

Throughout my college years I wanted to become a pastor in the denomination I grew up in. I saw so much corruption and became jaded and full of disgust for both the theology and practice and thought it was up to me to change it. And as I went to sem and saw other people chewed up and spit back out by the machine I decided I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was not going to waste my time with a bunch of people who care more about protecting their own collective rear ends instead of caring for those entrusted to their care. So I left. I quit. I gave up. I got married, found a job, and almost walked away from it all completely. But inside me I knew I couldn’t stay away from those theological circles. I have a mind for it and I know it is my place. So I came back to a different sem to finish what I started and hopefully move on to another arena. But these last few days have showed me something else, something I don’t think I could have learned without that text. Philosophical and theological assertions matter, they do, but its not worth fighting over. Its not worth losing people over. Its not worth pissing people off just to be right. What matters are not ideas, not systems, not assertions, but people. Flesh and blood.

I want anyone reading this to know that I love you. No matter who you are. No matter what you have done. No matter what your stance on an issue is. If I have ever pissed you off, frustrated you, or hurt you I am sorry. You matter. Your life matters. Your existence enriches mine because we are both a part of humanity. For so many years I have hid behind a veil of sarcasm because I was afraid to let people know how much I actually care about them. But life is too short. I can’t hide anymore. I cannot change what has happened in the past. I wish I could. But the fact remains she is gone and that is one relationship I will never have a chance at deepening.

I don’t know where I go from here or what any of this means for my life tomorrow and the next day. But I do know this…

Sarah Walker, your life and death have impacted me in ways nobody, not even me, expected, and in ways you will never know. Our friendship, the way I treated you, good and bad, taught me more in the last couple of days than I have learned in the last couple of years. Thank you for teaching me its ok to show people I care because now I know that I may never get the chance.

it is what it is

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It has been well over two weeks since I last stared at the blank box on the screen hoping to be imbued with some sort of coherent thought which may or may be of value to someone other than myself. While Id like to think I was too busy to take the time the truth is I have had plenty of time. I spent off days watching movies, reading books, playing games, and doing whatever else suited my fancy. Sure there were a few days of work in there and a couple days of feeling sick to my stomach but by and large I know I had the time to write yet for some reason I could never bring myself to do it.

If only it were a lack of ideas, a desire not to sound pedantic, or some other valid excuse I had for not putting my fingers to the keys, but no, I just couldn’t do it. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is because after that time of reinvigoration I found myself confronted with some old skeletons in the closet that have a way of draining the life out of me. I came back from vacation relaxed and ready to take on the month of July no matter what it brought. Yes there have been some really fantastic times but still, those skeletons found me.

Friends struggling with, losing or quitting jobs, others battling cancer, and still others people being pressured to do something or act a certain way because, as we all know, we all live lives in a fishbowl and there is always a party line to tow. Rather than waste time writing about each and every situation, which I did consider doing, I let those situations fester. What else could I do? I was not in any position to change the circumstances and blogging about it would just have been another adventure in being jaded.

But as I sit here tonight, punching away at the keys, the faces and names of those in my life who are struggling keep flying through my mind. It is here that those skeletons rear their ugly heads in the form of questions. Did I do the right thing by walking away? Was there something I could have done if I would have stuck it out in St. Louis? Now that I am going who else is there to protect and defend those whose voices will never be heard? Is there a way back? Should I even attempt it? I don’t know. The altruistic idealist in me has an answer, so does the jaded cynic. And so I ask myself yet again, what am I to do?

Recently, a turn of phrase has worked its way into my regular vocabulary, it is what it is. There are those with whom I interact who could never hear that phrase again and be happy about it because I have been using it so much. But the reason I am is because of the need I have right now to remind myself that I do not have control over the situations I so desperately want to. But beyond that need to remind myself of my lack of control this phrase urges me on to deal with things as they come at me. It pushes me, forces me to interact with those situations as they are, not as I would like them to be. It would be really easy for me to sit back and magically fix things and change them to the way I want or think they should be but reality doesn’t work that way.

Things happen. People change and so do circumstances. Rather than run from them, be afraid of them, or think that I could have done something to prevent it, I need to engage it, as it is. I need to stand along side my friend and remind him that he is stronger than he thinks. I need to be there for those who have been hurt and are jaded like me, because I know that pain and that road is too tough to walk alone. For every person flying through my mind right now I know there is something I can do. It may not be much. It may not fix anything. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be who I need to be, where I need to be, for who I need to be.

Life.

It is what it is.

But that doesn’t mean we have to go through it alone.

the reality is…

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I should probably be in bed right now seeing as I have to wake up in a little less than 6 hours to make the 12 hour drive back to Chicago from the “Commonwealth of Virginia.” But instead of falling asleep my mind is running a muck and so here I sit before my computer screen trying to process the vacation that was. It was, in a word, relaxing. I didn’t have to work. I didn’t have to do much of anything other than go swimming and fix the occasional dinner for the family. I got to play some cribbage with my wife’s grandpa and father and go see a couple of movies. All in all it was a great vacation, one I don’t want to come back from.

But the real world beckons. I need to get back to work and make a little money to help pay some bills. I need to get some things in order for the upcoming school year and I need to spend some time with my wife. And so once again I am faced with a reality, one that may not be everything I want, seeing as Id rather get paid to do nothing any day of the week, but one that I need to embrace if I am going to continue living on.

This was something I was reminded about on the fourth of July. Rather than go off and party, as we had done that on the second, I spent this past fourth with my wife who caught a stomach bug and believe me it was an all day event. Seeing as I had some time I decided to find a copy of a now famous speech Frederick Douglas gave on the fourth of July back in the 1850′s. (Full copy of the speech here) In that speech he posed the following…

“Fellow-citizens, pardon me, allow me to ask, why am I called upon to speak here to-day? What have I, or those I represent, to do with your national independence? Are the great principles of political freedom and of natural justice, embodied in that Declaration of Independence, extended to us? and am I, therefore, called upon to bring our humble offering to the national altar, and to confess the benefits and express devout gratitude for the blessings resulting from your independence to us?”

He was speaking of course about the irony of a black man speaking on a day about independence and freedom when their lives were full of anything but. The fourth of July has never really held a special place in my heart. That is not to say I am not grateful for the freedom I enjoy every day, its just that the fourth of July was never my favorite of holidays. I tend to find the massive displays of patriotism trotted out for a few days a year to turn my stomach. Despite my  cynicism, this year, as I read that speech I was reminded of the fact that as we celebrate a day of independence and freedom there are those who experience too little of that. I thought about all those who aren’t allowed to marry and all of those who, while free to choose, are bound by guilt, embarrassment and shame and forced into a situation that might not be the best choice. I also thought about those who aren’t free to sleep under a roof because a roof isn’t free. All around as a nation celebrated its independence and freedom there are those who are not able to experience it.

And then, as the day turned from the fourth to the fifth I read something else, a not guilty verdict. And then something equivalent to a social media atomic bomb went off and everyone had something to say about it. I guess what struck me the most is that one day we laud freedom and the next we scorn it. Where is our responsibility to her or any other perpetrator of a crime? Should not our love and compassion extend to her as well? Sure the case could have been clear cut, but guess what, the jury of her peers found her not guilty and so she sleeps tonight not guilty. What you or I think about her innocence matters little.  But that does not mean we cannot use this example to spur us on to something else.

So here we all are faced with a reality we may not want but one we have to embrace if we are going to keep on living. What reality is that? One that forces us to action. Unless I am moved to make a difference in the lives of those who cannot experience or embrace the freedom so many of us live in every day then thinking about it is worthless. Rather than complain about the not guilty verdict, which will change nothing, we should be concerned about the situations so many other young children and older people are in and try to do something about it. This is the reality we are faced with, a broken, hurting, violent, mean, scared world. One that will eat us up and vomit us back out. But it is one we face together.

All of this is to say that the end isn’t written yet. The story isn’t finished. Tomorrow I wake up and drive back to Chicago and then Thursday is a brand new day. But what am I going to do with that day or the next. I can choose to go through life thinking about those I did on the fourth, or that poor little girl and her mother or I can embrace reality and be moved to do something about it. I hope I have the courage to do the latter.