Relationships are Sacred

One of the buzz words populating the ears of today's church is "relationships" and its various derivatives. My own church reminds us each week that "relationships are sacred." And this is a good thing. We see throughout scriptures and our experiences that we (people) were created for community.

In the initial creation account in Genesis, God realizes that while His creation is very good, one thing is not, man is alone. In the final close of the scriptures we see the fulfillment of God's new creation: every tribe, nation, and tongue gathered together. Relationships are so sacred that the very nature of God is relational in the form of the Trinity and in His personal presence with us. Relationships are indeed sacred and good.

However, the modern church suffers from the same ailment most in out current culture does, a lack of connection. In some ways we are more connected than ever before, via email, facebook, smart phones, and on; allowing access to the whole world at our very fingertips. While technology does allow unique opportunities to connect, they pale in comparison to face-to-face relationships.

Yet even when we encounter each other face-to-face we are often more interested in (or distracted by) the person far away via our handheld device of choice. I no longer marvel at people gathered together yet all on their phones as opposed to connected to one another. The consequences of our technology are only symptoms of our totally disconnected culture. We have moved from the front porch to the back and the church has followed suite.

It is a shame that our fellowship often only entails a hand-shake during the appointed times on Sunday morning. And it is out of this shame and rekindled theology that the buzz has grown concerning relationships. The problem is that despite this renewed attention, we are still failing to really connect with one another. There are various causes behind all this, most prominently is that we are all too busy.

I remember living in Arkansas a few years back. I would go visit my grandmother Mary nearly every Saturday morning and every time I never failed to laugh and cry. Those were some of the most genuine moments I have ever shared with another human being. Those time changed me, helped to be alive again after such a long time of not being so. Yet life began to happen and eventually every Saturday turned into every once and awhile. One time, while apologizing for not being around, Grandma said, "well you're busy." Although meant with all the tenderness in the world, few words have stung me more in my life. If I'm too busy for Grandma, I'm busy with all the wrong things. And I think when we say we're too busy, we're revealing our loyalties, that we would rather feed our own needs than offer the sacrifice of quality time.

Yet despite the biblical bookends and God's triune nature, why should we make the effort?

This thing we call Christianity is so much bigger than ourselves. It is more than just a story of how Jesus saves us, it is a cosmic story of the redemption of the entire universe both seen and unseen. And somehow this new creation is being brought into this world through only one source: the church.

Everything, our lives, the earth, our relationships have been subjected to the rule of death and decay. But in the work and person of Jesus Christ, all things are being made new, not least of which is our relationships. We are being reconciled to our former enemy God through the unfailing love of Jesus and that same act of love is breaking down the walls of disconnect no matter how large they may be right now.

Too busy to get together? We are too busy not to get together. Because our relationships are not the stuff of TV sitcoms but a force so powerful angels long to look upon them. These are not shake-your-hand moments but giving our very lives away moments. And it is precisely Jesus' prayer, before his death that will set the whole world on its head, that we should be "one." And it is through that oneness, perhaps only through that oneness, that world will be changed.

Our relationships far transcend a bible study where we acquire more knowledge to ignore, but an opportunity, privilege even, to truly live, embracing the fullness of our humanity in the giving of our very lives. It is of course in the dying that we live. And it is of course in the dying of our self-centeredness that we may live, that the church may live, that the entire world may live again.

I dare not speak these words as one who has authority. I dream of right relationships but only from a distance. There are still strong walls built around me, around each of us, that only the power of the Gospel of the Jesus himself can tear-down. But that is the very beauty of the gospel, it will accomplish its purposes and these walls will come tumbling down and we will find ourselves at Grandma's on Saturday, changing the world through our laughter and tears.

Expecting to Lose

I have struggled with who I am, how I am defined. Throughout my life, I would give myself to certain interests and seek to be defined by them; whether it be dinosaurs, football, music, girls or even drugs. I would devote myself to be filled with every tidbit of info I could find about these interests and would find gratification in the search. But I have also felt a common thread through each of these things, I would lose.

Football has been the clearest example of this losing for me. My high school team lost 29 straight games during my career and went on to lose 20 more after I left. To be the captain of that team and to love something as much as I loved football, that hurt. I can't even give words to how it felt to lose so much or how demoralizing it is to think we never had a chance. And to add to this, the team that I gave my attention to, the South Carolina Gamecocks, were perennial underachievers. The first time they ever won a post season game came 100 years into their experiment with football back 1995.

We've flirted with success here and there but only to find our hands empty. After a while, you just expect to lose. I have realized that the one word that best sums up my self-opinion is 'loser.' Football seems small compared to the failed relationships, the drug abuse, practically flunking out of college, and severe depression that became my story.

God has this thing for giving new names. The great persecutor of the early church Saul, rode the meager christian out of town and into death, but God defeated him and gave him a new purpose and a new name, Paul. He would go on to write 2/3's of the New Testament and was almost single-handily responsible for bringing the faith to all of Europe. And yet he never forgot his first name, 'chief of sinners' and because he never forgot, the power of his new name was unsearchably immense.

God is giving me a new name too. Once a loser I now find myself living under the moniker of 'victorious.' Its a hard pill to swallow. Even though I sobered up, made it through college with honors, and have the greatest relationship of my life with my wife, I still am scared that I will lose it all, that I will lose even my new name.

And it was in the midst of this fear and uncertainty that I watched the Gamecocks win a second consecutive baseball national championship. And not just win it, but do it in style. Pulling off near-miraculous plays when all seemed lost, breaking the all-time records for consecutive tournament wins, to do it against near-insurmountable odds like your best player playing with a broken wrist. And best of all, I kept expecting them to lose and I was so wrong.

This team comes from a place that knows nothing of winning. The schools athletics seemed so doomed to lose that the local papers refer to the 'chicken curse' as stifling all the opportunities for victory. But this group of self-proclaim nobodies won in way never seen before. And while most simply enjoyed the spectacle, I was floored with the sprig of hope these gamecocks were bringing me.

I am not destined to lose.

Life has thrown me some wicked curve balls, I've had my share of brokenness but my expectations are changing with my name. I am beginning to believe that I might just win. And that, my friend, is the greatest hope I can imagine.

That We Might Be One

My friend, pastor, and mentor Eugene Scott recently wrote a blog about the power of intimacy and the danger of isolation (you can read it here). In his work Eugene describes the desperate need we have for each other. I feel this most acutely now that a women who I have cherished my entire life struggles to relearn how to eat a cookie. My aunt Betty suffered a stroke recently and the consequences of that stroke have been difficult to learn of. While I am hundreds of miles from Betty, the strength of her love for me kept her presence close in some mysterious way. But now, I do not doubt her love, but she seems oddly distant. Even though we pray for her to recover and believe she is just stubborn enough to do so, there is pain in the separation from the strong woman we all once knew. When I heard the news of her struggles my response was anger, not sadness. I believed deep within that it was simply not fair for this woman to suffer but also because deep down I feared I might never see her again. She is doing better and I hope to see her soon, and that hope of connection is stronger than all my fears and anger.

As I said before we each of us have not just a desire for connection but a hunger and a thirst. Intimacy with our fellow man is not just pleasant, it is vital. Without each other, though our hearts may still beat, our souls no longer live. Jesus knew this well. Before his death he prays a long prayer in John 17 that repeats the same petition over and over: that we may be one. This oneness is core to his hope in us, to his death with us, and to his resurrection for us. While we often focus on the aspects of forgiveness and new life in Jesus' gospel, we must see that we are forgiven so we may be reconciled to God and each other and that reconciled life is indeed our new life. Jesus also showed that pure unity was central to his gospel message when he summed the entire law of holiness up into two relational commands, that righteousness is found in right relationship with God and with each other, nothing more and certainly nothing less.

Our relationships suffer most severely the consequences of death that our sin produces. In the first instance of disobedience, man runs and hides from the God he walked with everyday and covers himself up from his wife in shame. Our relationships were what defined us in the creation account, God in all his triune glory decides to make us in "our image," the shared image of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in perfect unity with each other. And it is that perfect unity that Jesus uses in his prayer as the model for our oneness, "may they be one as we are one." The day is coming when the groom Jesus will be united with his bridegroom the church and what a celebration of union that day will be. But in the mean time, we struggle to hold on to the beautiful relationships we currently inhabit and fight to repair the broken ones. This is hard work. Never will we open ourselves to more hurt than when we make ourselves vulnerable in relationships, than when we lay aside our fig leaves of shame and dare to live life together, in pure oneness.

All this points to why it hurts so much to hear that a loved one is in pain, because if we truly love that person then their pain becomes our own,that is both the blessing and perhaps the curse of our oneness. The reality is that we are all meant to be each other's loved ones and every instance of isolation, death, and disconnect hurts us to our core even if we do not realize it. But gloriously Jesus became our loved one and on that fateful day he felt our suffering in its fullest and it killed him. But in that act he showed love was stronger than death, that relationships would always win over separation in the end and he burst forth from the divide of death to reconnect all of creation to itself and to himself. Just as he felt our suffering on the cross, we feel his joy in the resurrection. May we find our stories at the intersection of the cross, at the place of Jesus prayer for our oneness, and the birth of our reconciled lives walking anew without shame in the presence of the one we have only dreamed of until now. And that hope of connection is stronger than all our fears and anger.

 May we be one.

Empty Together

I wanted to share what my dear friend  (and house-mate) Cliff had to share with our local congregation out here in Denver. I resonate with his feeling of emptiness and need for community.

I sat in front of my blank computer screen for about two hours searching myself for something of value to offer. My mind wandered about to other stresses taking place elsewhere in my life. The longer I sat, fewer ideas came to mind. What seemed to be such a simple task slowly became more and more daunting with each scattered thought. Why was it that I couldn’t find something to share with my community? Something encouraging. Something uplifting.  Something… spiritual.

I was spiritually dry. I am spiritually dry.

I remember hearing Eugene’s message on hoarding both the good and bad. That I can relate to. Sure there are things in my life taking up my time that aren’t good wholesome things, but most of what I give my time to are good things. They really are. Work, Church, my music, my friends, all quality time well spent. The simple fact is, rarely do I just sit with the Father. Rarely do I spend time sitting in the presence of God soaking him in for all he’s worth.

It was through community, through relationship that I was able to verbally process the stuff in my life and become aware of my spiritual drought. I believe it will only be through community and relationship that I heal. Growing up in the South, attending a Baptist church as all good Southerners do, I’ve never participated in Lent. This being my first Lenten season as a participant, I’m anxious to set out on this journey of rediscovering God. I wouldn’t dare begin this journey alone. Come with me?  

Thank God for friends like Cliff how do not remain silent in their struggles but through their honesty offer hope. I think many of us could sign our names to the bottom of this, filling our time with seemingly good things all the while leaving no room for the Good Thing. As I have taken a break from some of the filler this season, God has led me to a place of emptiness, a state of poverty. This is indeed a good thing; Eugen Peterson has this to say, ‎"Only when we stand emptied, stand impoverished before God can we receive what only empty hands can receive."

Abba, lead me and my brother Cliff into this abundant life in you. Lead us not only together but with all your children. Lord, make this world right, starting in my heart. Feed us, forgive us, and keep us safe. Grant us the guts to be empty and to be ok with it all. Be our God and help us to be your people. Amen 

Sermon For Class on Romans 12:9-16- Genuine Love is the Foundation of Genuine Relationships

A feather fluidly descends upon an Alabama bus stop, resting beside the well-worn Nike tennis shoe of a slender, flat-topped man.  As he awaits his bus with a box of half-eaten chocolates across his lap, he introduces himself to his neighbor and begins to tell his story.  He has met Elvis, overcome a crippling disability, played football for Bear Bryant, met the president, gained and lost the best friend of his life in Vietnam, survived a hurricane, ran across America numerous times, lost his momma, and of course he tells us about Jenny.  We find ourselves like Mr. Gump’s neighbors captivated by his stories, by his life.  This is a fascination that goes beyond Forrest and speaks to each of us; we are all lovers of story.  Billions of dollars are spent each year in the consumption of various forms of stories, be it movies, television, or books.  Take for instance the millions of young people, who despite their Attention Deficit Disorder, spend numerous, consecutive hours thumbing through 800 pages of a vampire love-story.  The desire for story begins in us early as we climb into our parent’s lap and with acute determination and cunning innocence ask, “Daddy, will you tell me a story?”  This fascination grips us early and really never lets us go.  I love holidays at Grandma’s in Arkansas.  No matter where you go, stories are in the air, stories of fishing, cars, childhood mischief, and of family members no longer with us.  We gather around our memories and in the retelling, we relive them.  From birth to death, something inside of us longs for a good story.  But why?  What is it about stories that intrigue us so?

            We could define story like the textbooks do, defining the component parts such as narrative hook, conflict, climax, and resolution.  However, I believe something else is going on below the surface, something that gets at our love-affair with story, that is they deal the extremes of life, such as joy and pain, hope and despair, winning and losing, fall and redemption.  And it is in these extremes that that life truly happens.  We long for stories because they give definition to our own stories, our own lives.  One of my favorite movies is Walk the Line, the masterfully-told story of the life of Johnny and June Carter Cash.  It shows a deeply talented yet deeply troubled young man.  Johnny, like so many in his field, watches from the sidelines as substance-abuse takes over his life at the loss of everything he loves.  But at the height of his fall June sticks with him, protects him, nurses him, loves him.  Johnny can’t believe her love in the face of his sin, he knows and professes that he’s hurt everybody, he’s nothing.  But June fights back, “You’re not nothing, you’re not nothing.  You’re a good man, and God has given you a second chance to make things right, John.  This is your second chance honey.” Johnny emerges a new man and in some way, as we watch, we do as well.  Stories like that resonate because we all know the depths to which we can fall and we wander if someone will ever love us the way June loved Johnny, we wonder if God will give us a second chance. Stories help to remind us what it means to truly live, that life is more than our jobs, our school, our routines, but that life trips us up but also picks us up.  Life and I mean real, abundant life is seen, perhaps exclusively, in those extremities of pain and joy, hunger and fulfillment, life and even death.

            A couple of years ago I formed a relationship with an 8-year old boy named Chris.  Chris came from a tough family, his dad, his hero, was in jail for murder and his mom was rather poor.  Despite this, Chris was full of life and probably taught me more than I taught him.  A few months after we became friends, I received a phone-call informing me that Chris’s dad had killed himself in jail.  I cannot remember a time in my life when I have ever hurt so badly.  Why did this kid, so alive, have to deal with death so tragic?  I’m not sure I, or any of us, will ever understand why.  But I do know that in those tears, in the pain of questioning God, I was at least in part experiencing what it meant to truly be alive. 

            But there is something else foundational to a good story, something that gives force to these emotions and events, something, in fact the very thing, that makes story so personal for us: relationships.  This is the common thread of all of our stories; June and Johnny, Chris and his Dad, us and God.  Even stories of solitude deal with the absence of relationship.  Because relationship is so foundational to story we find it foundational to life as well.  We were created for the very purpose of relationship.  But the relationships that make good stories are not just average run-of-the-mill relationships, if there is such a thing, but significant ones.  These are genuine relationships, real, fully alive people struggling through life together, learning how to relate to one another and to God. 

            Relationship is core to story and thus core to life.  In his epistle to the Roman church, our dear friend Paul guides us into the abundant life through the context of relationships.  In fact the entire book can be seen through the lens of relationships.  The first 11 chapters deal with the theology of reconciliation, detailing how Jesus had mended the broken relationship between God and man.  In the final five chapters, Paul explains what our lives should look like in response to these mercies of reconciliation; although we are many we become one in God, each gifted for the benefit of others, we must love even our enemies and be subject to authority, that the entire law is summed in love for our neighbors, that we must sacrifice our rights for the welfare of the weaker brother.  Paul ends the letter fittingly: “I’m sending so and so to you, tell so and so I miss them, I can’t wait to see you.”  In his appeal for us to welcome one another, Paul goes to great lengths to welcome all he knows in Rome, he is indeed practicing what he preaches.  But I believe Paul is saying something very specific about our stories, about our relationships in verses 9-16 of chapter 12: 

9 Let love be genuine.Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. 10 Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. 11Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. 12 Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. 13 Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality. 14 Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. 15 Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. 16 Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight.

           Paul begins this section by merely saying “Genuine Love.”  In our English translations we have added the “let” and the “be” in order to make sense of it.  But perhaps Paul is simply titling the following imperatives illustrating what genuine love looks like.  He deals with hope and charity, blessing even those who persecute us, and instructs us to weep with ones weeping and rejoice with the ones rejoicing.  We are to participate in life with one another, in the extremes of persecution and hope, weeping and mourning.  For when we cry together, we live and when we laugh together, we live.  Core to a good story are good relationships, which begs the haunting question: “How much of our lives is worth telling?”

            Genuine love is the foundation of genuine relationships.  Yet hypocrisy, pride, and ignorance choke out our love, our relationships, our stories.  So we spend $15 every Friday night to escape for two hours, because instead of risking it all and truly living, we’d rather play it safe and watch someone else live.  O that our lives were even horror stories, but they are simply boring and not really stories at all.  They are not good because our love and thus our relationships are not good, are not genuine.  My story is lacking because I love what is evil, I outdo others in pursuit of honor, because I am not daring in the spirit, I grow impatient in difficult times, and only extend hospitality to the familiar.  I curse those who bless me, mock those who rejoice and ignore those who weep.  I can not live harmoniously because I am the wisest person I know.  My story is not good.  How is yours?