I Support Euthanasia

I support euthanasia.  That sounds heretical for an evangelical, but over the past month spent with my mother-in-law on hospice and as a pastor for 39 years, I am a supporter of euthanasia.  I think, in fact, that everyone should experience euthanasia.

I must hasten to add that I do NOT support what our culture means when they use the word.  I support the word at its core.  The word at its face value rather that what it has become freighted with over the past decades in particular.

The word euthanasia comes from the Greek prefix “eu” which means good.  We see it in words like eulogy (eu=good, logos=words.  A eulogy is good words about the deceased.), euphemism (eu=good, pheme=praise or flattering speech.  A euphemism is a word or phrase that makes something bad sound better than it is.) and eucharist (eu=good, charis=grace.  Communion is a good grace from God.)

The second part of euthanasia is “thanatos” which means death.  The word euthanasia, stripped of its cultural and philosophical baggage (which one can seldom, if ever, do with words), is a “good death.”  I am a supporter of a good death.  Where I differ with my culture is on what defines a good death.

Over the years of pastoral ministry it has been my privilege and my burden to be with people during the final stages of their earthly life.  Sometimes even the last moments of their life.  Some have died a good death.  Some have not.

In those years of pastoral ministry I have found that, most often, a good death is the result of a good life.  I do not mean an easy life.  I mean a good life.  A life lived in close fellowship with God who made us and who redeems us through His son, Jesus Christ.  The kind of life that is the overflow of the confidence found in Charitie Lees Smith’s song, “The Advocate” (which has become known as “Before the Throne of God Above.”)

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea.
A great high Priest whose Name is Love
Who ever lives and pleads for me.

My name is graven on His hands
My name is written on His heart.
I know that while in Heaven He stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end of all my sin.

Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.

Behold Him there the risen Lamb,
My perfect spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I AM,
The King of glory and of grace,

One in Himself I cannot die.
My soul is purchased by His blood
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ my Savior and my God!

People seldom develop that confidence on their deathbed, although it sometimes happens. More commonly this good life which leads to a good death is developed over the course of a lifetime, however long that is.  Clayton McDonald knew this truth and openly shared it with his classmates in Atascadero, California.  (You can watch the 6-minute documentary here.)  What is particularly profound in Clayton’s testimony is his acknowledgement that knowing WHEN he would die helped put his living in perspective.

Not everyone gets an advance notice on the timing of their own death and therefore not everyone gets an opportunity to prepare for their own death.  As Sandra Bullock’s character in Gravity, Ryan Stone, says, “We’re all going to die. Everybody knows that. But I’m going to die today.”  Since we don't know the timing, it is fitting to live our lives now in such a way that we can pass from a good life to a good death. It is the awareness of the preciousness of life but also the preciousness of the One who is The Life (John 14:6) that leads to a good life AND a good death.

The Third Son

"Tell me what you think of this story: A man had two sons. He went up to the first and said, 'Son, go out for the day and work in the vineyard.' The son answered, 'I don't want to.' Later on he thought better of it and went. The father gave the same command to the second son. He answered, 'Sure, glad to.' But he never went. Which of the two sons did what the father asked?" They said, "The first." Jesus said, "Yes…” Matthew 21:28-31a (The Message)

One of the fascinating aspects of this story is that there is no third son who said, “Sure, glad to” and then immediately did the will of his father.  The only two options are the son who said he wouldn’t, but did and the son who said he would, but didn’t.  Why no third son in the story?  Is it because Jesus understands so clearly how broken we are and how self-focused we are?  Jesus gives the high priests and elders only two sons to choose from.  Maybe Jesus understood that, given their bent toward self-righteousness, the high priests and elders will self-identify as the third son.  Certainly no one wants to admit being the fourth son who says, "I won't" and then doesn't.

When faced with only two options the high priests and leaders are forced to choose the first son because only the first son actually did what his father asked.  Only one son did his father’s will.  For Jesus, it seems, the first issue is obedience.  It may take some time before one obeys, but the bottom line is doing the will of the father.  It is, according to Jesus, far better to balk initially, think better of it and obey than to feign obedience and never follow through.

Which brings me to this season in my life.  When it comes to my sabbatical, I still miss Rachel.  (Please refer to my earlier blogs, "When Your Son [Father] or Ox Falls in the Well," and “Waking With Leah” for context.)  When my father, my mother-in-law, my wife and my grandchildren need me, my first inward response is often that of the first son, “I don’t want to.”  But like that first son I think better of it, most times quite soon after the first inner response, and go.  I have no doubt that my father, my mother-in-law, my wife and my grandchildren have on more than one occasion sensed the hesitation.  That split second pause. But I also have no doubt that they would rather have that short reluctance followed by my availability than for me to keep promising I’ll get around to caring for them but never actually doing it.

Lest you think I’m some kind of saint, (Actually I am but that’s a blog for another time.) I want you to know that this dying to myself business is hard.  I don’t enjoy it.  It doesn’t come naturally.  It gets in the way of my plans.  But it does the will of the Father.  And from the lips of His own Son I hear that it is better, given the premise that there are only two sons, to be the first son than the second.

Therefore because I love my Father, my father, my mother-in-law, my wife and my grandchildren, I will continue to make being the first son my goal while seeking to become more like the unmentioned third son.  The son who answers, “Sure, glad to” and then immediately does what his father asks.  In the meantime both I and those around me would much prefer I be the first son than the second.

A 90 Minute Wait for a 60 Second Solution

Many of you know I’m helping my father during this transition from 65 years of marriage to being a single.  From living in northern Idaho to living in southern California.  From living independently to independent living.

Part of this process has been taking care of the paperwork related to mom’s death.  Changing account names and addresses, opening new accounts.  Yesterday I spent time talking on the phone with a very nice person from Social Security who helped us apply for mom’s death benefit.  During that conversation the person from Social Security mentioned mom’s date of death as January 27.  Mom died on January 28. When I pointed this out the person told me I would have to get that rectified before the death benefit could be deposited into dad’s account.  They don’t accept photo copies so she suggested I drop by the nearest office, take a number and, when called, show them the certified copy of mom’s death certificate so that the date could be changed. 

I did ask why I had to do this when they got it wrong.  She said maybe the mortuary gave them the wrong information or it was a typo, but either way it had to be rectified.  I asked what difference it made and she said all the numbers must match or no death benefit.  (When I discovered how small the death benefit was I almost cut my dad a check instead of waiting at the Social Security Office.  As you’ll soon read, that might have been the cheaper solution.)

This morning I arrived at the office in Fountain Valley.  The security guard was very helpful in getting me signed in so I could be issued a number.  90 minutes later I sat before a very nice woman who took approximately 60 seconds to make the changes on her computer screen.

A 90 minute wait for a 60 second solution.  A 90 minute wait for a 60 second solution that was caused by someone else.  A 90 minute wait for a 60 second solution that could be resolved in no other way.

As I drove away I could not help but ponder all the complexities of my life that have been caused by one act or decision, sometimes not even caused by me, and all the time it took to resolve or restore the situation.  Sharon and I have a Schliep-ism we use a lot.  “Sin complicates life.” 

Sometimes a brief act causes a lifetime of complexity.  A short sentence may sentence us to years of trying to restore a relationship.  One act can break trust to an extent that requires multiple acts to repair.  (As the Berenstein Bears point out it can never be fully repaired.  There is always some residual scar on the relationship.  I highly recommend “The Berenstein Bears and The Truth.”)

This is the world we live in for now.  A world where things can go so easily wrong.  God gives me hope that most relationships can be restored and situations can be repaired.  But not all. The apostle Paul wrote, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” (Romans 12:18 ESV)  Peter adds this, quoting from Psalm 34, “For the Scriptures say, “If you want to enjoy life and see many happy days, keep your tongue from speaking evil and your lips from telling lies. Turn away from evil and do good. Search for peace, and work to maintain it. (1 Peter 3:10-11 NLT)  That’s our challenge.  Search for peace, and work to maintain it.  It will probably take longer than 90 minutes.

What's Going Without Saying Should Be Said

A phone message to my mother-in-law a few days ago highlighted something I’ve noticed in our culture.  The message included something along the lines of “I called to tell you how much I love you and appreciate you.  I wanted you to know how special you are to me.”   But the person never went on to quantify the “how much” or “how special.”

The same thing happens in church when someone says, “Praise the Lord” and then no one does.  Praise the Lord is a command not a praise.  A praise would be something along the lines of “God is holy” or “God is loving” or “God is merciful.”  Instead the congregation assumes that the phrase, “Praise the Lord” is all that needs to be said about God. 

The person who left the message may have gone on to enumerate Anina’s specialness or some of the ways the person loves Anina if they had been physically present, but I doubt it.  If we were more accurate, or more honest, we would put our arms around each other and say, “I want you to know how much I love you but I can’t think of a specific way to quantify that” or “I want you to know what a special person you are, but I’m incapable of actually articulating what it is that makes you special.”

On a recent visit to a church I pastored a person came up to me and told me they wanted me to know how much help I’d been in their spiritual development.  And the sentence ended there.  I was tempted to ask in what ways specifically I had helped but that would have sounded like I was asking for a more specific compliment.  Instead I smiled and assumed the best of this person and their motives and thanked God that whatever it was I had done had been of help.

Maybe we should all work on being more specific in our thanks, our praise and our expressions of love to God and to each other.  I, for one, would find it refreshing, affirming, specific and clear instead of generic and obfuscating.

Tell the Truth

I was driving my grandchildren home the other day listening to that classic musical written for Christians by Christians, “Sir Oliver’s Song.”  This musical covers the Ten Commandments, some more than once, with songs that are supposed to have an international feel.  What that meant back in 1979 was that a collection of adults, mostly of European ancestry tried to sing with accents not their own.  A really bad German accent on Dankeschön, for instance or a cheesy Jamaican accent on Kalepo (written by a Bulgarian who was the creative power behind Silverwind, an ABBA wannabe group for Christians). I will leave for another time the idea that monkeys are morally responsible when they steal another monkey’s banana (the premise in Kalepo).  I will not now address the cultural insensitivity inherent in only having English speaking (in one case with a slight Bulgarian accent) performers sing every song even when the song highlighted another language (French, Spanish, Hebrew, German, Bavarian) 

I want to focus on one line from the song, Tell the Truth.  It contains one line that bothered me back when my children were listening to the cassette.  “Stretching the truth is tellin’ a lie.  Angels are honest that’s why they can fly.”  The angelology of this song comes out of nowhere.  Other than making a rhyme for the word lie in the previous sentence there is no theological reason for saying anything about angels and lying.  And there is certainly no reason to attribute an angel’s ability to fly with their honesty.  (Unless the argument is that unfallen angels can still fly while fallen angels no longer possess this ability.  If that is the case, how do they get around?  Public transit?  Walk? Bike?)

There really is a point to this rant besides being able to take a trip down memory lane for those who grew up listening to or having their children listen to Agapeland.  Theology matters.  Children, like adults, learn their theology a little at a time.  Earl Palmer said, “Never teach a child something they will later have to unlearn.”  I’m sure I didn’t do this perfectly as a parent, but I tried very carefully to not teach things that were not true.  There is a place for fiction.  I read a lot of fiction every year, but I know going in it isn’t true.  The danger to children is that they do not have the maturity until quite late in their development to discern the real from the false, the true from the lie.  Ironically this song about telling the truth tells a lie.  And an unnecessary lie at that.  (A lie is an abomination to the Lord.  And a very present help in time of trouble.  Adalai Stevenson) There was no reason to introduce angels into the discussion.

So let this be a warning to us all.  Speak the truth.  Whether about angels or banana stealing monkeys.  If I can figure out how to skip the song on the CD, I’ll do that next time we’re driving up Beach Boulevard.

Wasted Time

One of the items I listed in the things I’ve learned from my journals was that I have not wasted enough time with Sharon.  Later in the day I wondered if that might be misunderstood.  I was NOT saying that at some point I will have wasted enough time on Sharon and we’re through.  (Although, unfortunately, there was a short season early in our marriage when I thought of this phrase in those terms.  Fortunately I came to my senses.)

What I was alluding to was the advice the fox gives to the little prince in Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s classic, The Little Prince.  (A book Sharon introduced me to in 1972.) 

The little prince comes from a planet that has just one rose that he must care for.  He thinks she is the only rose in the universe.  When he arrives on earth he discovers that there are millions of roses.  But the fox points out that the little prince’s rose not like all the other roses because of the time he has spent with her, caring for her, talking with her.  He has, in the fox’s words, “tamed” her, and she him, because they have “established ties” through the daily-ness of life.  Through daily and weekly rites they have become “unique in all the world” to each other. 

Then the fox says, “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important…You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.  You are responsible for your rose…”

That, dear reader, is what I was referring to when I said I had not wasted enough time on Sharon.  (Who, by the way, I often refer to as Rose.)  She is not like the millions of other women in the world.  She is unique in all the world because of having tamed me through thousands of little words, looks, touches and experiences together.  This accumulation of life together over almost forty years of marriage and almost forty two years of friendship has established ties that will not be broken.

And so, I say it again.  I have not wasted enough time on Sharon.  May God grant us many more years of wasted time.

10 More Lessons From 32 Years of Journaling

I noticed I listed 22 things I had learned from reading my journals.   I decided to add ten more for symmetry.  32 years.  32 lessons.

• It is easier to seem holy from a distance.
• I don't regret the hours spent parenting.
• I haven't wasted enough time on Sharon.
• I thank God for the pastors in my life who took the time to encourage me personally and vocationally.
• I have more often been helped in my spiritual life by non-clergy than clergy.
• Sinners are the only people allowed in the churches to which I belong.
• Hindsight is always 20/20.
• I should have trusted my intuition about people more, especially those in leadership.  I have been right about a person's character more often than wrong.
• Churches would be healthier if people stopped talking about each other and started talking to each other.
• As lives go, I'm pretty content with the one I've lived.

What 32 Years of Journaling Has Taught Me

• Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.
• I definitely married way, way "up."
• I know what the perfect pastor should be...and I'm not it.
• Relationships are messy.
• It's easier to tell married couples how to repair their relationship than to repair my own.
• My three children love Jesus, their parents, their siblings and the church.  Not bad for Pastor's Kids.
• Life is an adventure.
• Marrying Sharon is the wisest choice I've made in more than 40 years.
• There is no problem that cannot be solved if people would simply do what I tell them.
• Living with my mother-in-law for 7 years is a challenge and a blessing.
• God is more interested in my relationship with Him than my ministry for Him.
• God is more interested in my obedience than my happiness.
• Life has seasons.  If you don't like the one you're in, wait 3-5 years.
• Journaling consistently for 32 years is difficult but helpful.
• My children will probably not find anything surprising in my journal.
• Looking back is helpful if you use what you see to move forward.
• I have changed in so many ways.
• I am the same in so many ways.
• Pastoring a church would be easier if it weren't for the people in it.
• Sharon has been the person God has used most often to nudge me toward maturity.
• I love all three of my children, but I am especially fond of Kristi, Kelli and Jonathan.
• All of my grandchildren are above average.

Where He Leads Me I Will Follow

For you fans keeping score at home I am about to begin reading my journal entries for 2005.  My children at this point in the story have all graduated from High School.  All three of them love Jesus and, maybe more surprising for pastor’s kids, all three love the church.  For about the last 2 years in my journal I have made the observation that I either need to change how I lead or I need God to move me on to another ministry because there are things I sense God wants to do in Santa Margarita Community Church but I don’t seem to be the one to lead them there.  The church has grown from 35 to just under 200 in the sixteen years we’ve been part of the Body and leading 200 is very different from leading 35.

For those who know the end of the story, it will be another 20 months before Sharon and I make the move from Santa Margarita back to Orange County.  It will be early in 2006 that things begin to become clear for us as to the where and when of moving away from the church family we have known and loved for 16 years.

But in January 2005 all that is not so clear.  What is clear is an increasing sense that our time as part of this local church is coming to a close.

I share this because sometimes we think we will always get a clear leading from God.  It will be unmistakable and it will happen fast.  As I’ve read through 20 years of journaling so far I am here to tell you that, for me at least, God’s leading more often comes through a long, rather quiet, process of changing my heart and giving me experiences that prepare me for the next season.  No lightning flashes a la Martin Luther.  No handwriting on the wall a la Belshazzar. No 900 foot Jesus a la Oral Roberts.  Just a steady moving of me along in the daily-ness of life until the next step seems obvious.

Maybe some of you have had those clear words of God about “here is the way, walk in it,” but after shepherding God’s people for 40 years I can testify that more often it is, as Nietzsche wrote, “a long obedience in the same direction.”  

Waking with Leah

Some of you have read my earlier post about the beginning of my sabbatical after several delays.  Just prior to beginning my sabbatical my mother died and my father moved to Southern California.  This has obviously taken many hours that were “supposed” to be taken up with spending time with Sharon and my children, reading, writing, praying, enjoying my family, resting.  All of these I love or enjoy.

As the hours spent getting my father settled and his paperwork updated were beginning to subside my mother-in-law, with whom we live, was diagnosed with advanced pancreatic cancer and was admitted to Kaiser Hospice last Friday.  We have been adjusting medications, sleeping arrangements, meeting the staff, updating her caregivers and generally focusing on how best to help Anina prepare for exiting this life and entering the life to come.  (On January 1 my oldest daughter asked Anina what she wanted to do in 2014.  Anina replied she wanted to be with Jesus.  It is likely she will get what she wanted.)

As I was processing with Sharon this additional pull away from my plans for sabbatical I acknowledged that at least my commitment of time to family during this season is not impacting the rest of the EFCA West team because they had already planned for me to be unavailable to them for 13 weeks.  That alone is a gift from God.

The story, the metaphor, that came to mind late yesterday was that of Jacob, Rachel and Leah.  Rachel was beautiful and Leah, it seems, was less so. Eugene Peterson translates the description this way, “Leah had nice eyes, but Rachel was stunningly beautiful.” (Genesis 29:17 The Message)  As you remember, Jacob worked seven years in order to marry Rachel, but her father, Laban, substituted Leah sometime late in the festivities. Jacob awoke that first morning, no doubt having already consummated the marriage, with Leah at his side, not Rachel. After complaining to Laban, Jacob works more years to eventually marry Rachel.

What Jacob seems to miss in his own story, but which Moses gives as an eternal perspective, is that Leah turned out to be the fruitful wife.  Leah gave Jacob six sons.  Rachel only two. Moses tells us that ^“When GOD [YHWH] realized that Leah was unloved, he opened her womb. But Rachel was barren. (Genesis 29:31 The Message)

We can discuss another time the propriety of multiple wives and conniving fathers-in-law but the point still is that God, as He so often does, took an unexpected and unplanned situation and brought fruit from it.

There are moments when this sabbatical feels like waking with Leah.  I worked my seven years for a beautiful Rachel.  An ideal.  A fantasy.  Something that I found very appealing and easy to love.

What I have awakened to is Leah, the outwardly less appealing bride with the fruitful womb.  Not the sabbatical I worked for but the sabbatical given me by the Father of sabbaticals.  I was hoping for the stunningly beautiful sabbatical.  What I have been given is the sabbatical with nice eyes who, if I will embrace her, can be very fruitful.

Simply Stay

Many of you know that Sharon and I moved back to Southern California in 2006 to be nearer my mother-in-law, Anina Walberg.  Initially it was to help her navigate life on her own.  Our presence made it possible for her to live in her home, attend her church, shop at her stores.  In the early years of our return we didn't do much but be here to encourage and help.  During the first year we lived in a small apartment nearby and visited often.  During the second year we actually moved in to help with the upkeep of the home, provide her some additional income and assist in any way we could.  More recently we have had to be more proactive and involved in helping her continue her life in her home of more than 35 years as her mobility and health have become more of a challenge.

This past week Anina made the decision to not to have an invasive surgery that may have prolonged her life but also carried with it many possible complications because of her advanced age. (She turns 97 in mid-April.) The surgery would also not have addressed the underlying cause of the blockage in her pancreas even if the procedure were successful.

So beginning this past weekend we have been introduced to the world of hospice.  No one can say how long this will last.  We have heard many stories already that range the gamut from weeks to years.  But in reading Virginia Stem Owens' book, "Caring for Mother: A Daughter's Long Goodbye" I found a metaphor for this season in our life with Anina.

"...it often seemed as if she were trapped under the rubble of an earthquake...All I could do was squat beside the avalanche, listening for any sign of life; sometimes I could hear a faint but familiar echo of her voice or gesture from under the heap...[In writing this book] My highest hope, however is that, while these words will not lessen the anxiety or alleviate the anguish, they will brace you for your own hard vigil.  Do what you can to comfort with your presence when there is nothing else to be done.  Like earthquake survivors waiting near those trapped in the debris, simply stay."

Biblical Dating and the Importance of Words

A few days ago my niece’s post on Facebook indicated someone in her church would be preaching on Biblical Dating.  I was tired, a condition in which I should never respond to Facebook posts.  But I did.  On Facebook I basically wrote that since dating is never mentioned in the Bible I wondered how one could preach on biblical dating.  One can preach on “Dating in Light of Other Truths Found in the Bible” but that obviously is not as catchy a title for the session.

At first I thought I was just being contrarian, but it only took a moment to be reminded how dangerous it is when we Christians use biblical or Christian as adjectives.  [Technically biblical is an adjective, but Christian is actually a noun too often used as an adjective.]  Some of you have been around when I get talking about this issue.  It’s one of my big concerns for the sloppiness of our use of words.

As soon as we use biblical or Christian as an adjective we are giving our topic or object a weight that it may or may not have.  Take biblical dating, for instance. If the presenter is honest at the beginning he will have said, “The bible teaches nothing about dating.  Let’s close in prayer.”  But my guess is that he didn’t do that.  Therefore he subtly is imbuing his view of how Christians who are single should relate to other Christians who are single (you will notice I did not refer to them as Christian singles because that would be using Christian as an adjective) with the authority of “this is the biblical view of dating.”

Let me be clear.  I do believe that what is in the Bible is true and inerrant.  I do believe that what is in the Bible gives us insight on how to live in all areas of our life, even those not specifically mentioned in Scripture.  For instance the Bible is almost silent on specifics as to how children should be raised or how married couples should interact with each other, yet I believe there are truths in Scripture that inform how we live in both of those roles.  But because the Bible is not very specific we have much freedom in what each of those roles looks like.  As long as how we live as parents or spouses does not violate something clearly taught in Scripture such as honor all people, love your neighbor or even love your enemy we are free to figure out what parenting or spousing looks like as a Christian.  Because of this there is no such thing as “growing kids God’s way” or “biblical dating.”

Here’s an experiment.  For the next 14 days never use Christian as an adjective (No Christian music only music performed by Christians.  No Christian book stores only stores owned by Christians. No Christian jewelry only jewelry made by Christians.) or biblical as an adjective for something not specifically addressed in Scripture (No biblical parenting only parenting based on other truths found in Scripture.  No biblical forms of government only government that reflects truth found in Scripture more than others.)  See how this begins to remind you that there is much to be said in Scripture on how to live each day, but Scripture does not specifically address everything explicitly and therefore there is freedom in how we live out this relationship with God through Jesus.

Dance With the One That Brung Ya

In early to mid-1991 I was kvetching in my journal about those on the fringe of Santa Margarita Community Church.  I had only been pastor there for about 6 months and I was complaining about those people who seem to only show up when there’s nothing else to do or on major Christian holidays.

In my May 23, 1991 journal entry I include a confession of my poor attitude toward these people on the fringe.  It also includes an extended quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer's book, Life Together.  The entry makes it plain that the conviction about my attitude and my confession to God about it were both prompted by Bonhoeffer’s book.

“The serious Christian, set down for the first time in a Christian community, is likely to bring with him a very definite idea of what Christian life together should be and try to realize it…The man who fashions a visionary ideal of community demands that it be realized by God, by others and by himself.  He enters the community of Christians with his demands, sets up his own law, and judges the brethren accordingly…He acts as if he is the creator of the Christian community, as if his dream binds men together…

"When his ideal picture is destroyed, he sees the community going to smash.  So he becomes, first an accuser of his brethren, then an accuser of God, and finally the despairing accuser of himself…If we do not give thanks daily for the Christian fellowship in which we have been placed, even when there is no great experience, no discoverable riches, but much weakness, small faith, and difficulty; if on the contrary, we only keep complaining to God that everything is so paltry and petty, so far from what we expected, then we hinder God from letting our fellowship grow according to the measure and riches which are there for us all in Jesus Christ…

"This applies in a special way to the complaints often heard from pastors and zealous members about their congregations.  A pastor should not complain about his congregation, certainly never to other people, but also not to God…Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate.”

I’ve read through the end of 1992 and so far I haven’t seen another complaint about the church collectively.   Maybe I learned an important lesson that is echoed so many times in the writing of Eugene Peterson.  Every pastor must acknowledge that his ministry is to “these people in this place at this time.”  If you want to minister to another sort of people in another sort of place in another moment in history, go there.  God is not asking what you’re doing somewhere else with someone else.  He only wants to use you with these people in this place at this time.

Oh, that all of us who minister in a local church, whether paid or unpaid, full-time or part-time, would allow this truth to marinate in us and then find its way into the way we speak to and about our local church.  May this truth overflow into the way we relate to the local body of Christ of which we are a apart.

They're (We are) Everywhere!

During those days I spent with my father after my mother passed away he and I often went to a café nearby for breakfast or lunch.  On one of those mornings there sat near us a group of six men, all about 10 years older than I am.  Their conversation drifted over to our table on more than one occasion as they talked quite loud and made no attempt to keep their opinions to themselves.  At one point one of the men told a racist joke about kicking cans and then proceeded to refer to ethnicities that end in the word can.  I considered, at least for a moment, walking over to their table and pointing out they were Ameri-CANS so maybe they should be kicked too but 1) I didn’t think they would get it and 2) if they did it was six-to-one odds and I’ve never been much of a pugilist.

In my mind I wrote them off as bigoted white men from northern Idaho who didn’t know better or their mommas never raised them right or they moved to northern Idaho where they thought they could speak in these demeaning ways about other races without anyone batting an eyelash.

Fast forward to yesterday morning in “enlightened, liberal” Southern California.  Sharon and I were seated in a well-known mid-price range restaurant. Those in the restaurant looked like middle-class to upper middle-class adults.  Mostly, but not all, white.  Seated across from us was a group of six men, all about my age or maybe a bit older.  This time the conversation was about the Affordable Care Act.  One of the men was loudly complaining about how everyone was being forced to buy insurance in order to cover the 20% who up to this time could not afford it.  “Who are those 20%?” one asked.  The reply from his compatriot was to use first names that are most commonly used for ethnicities other than white.

I share this because I have come to realize how easily I stereotyped the first group as being poorly-educated, rural Americans who didn’t know better.  I subtly had excused (but was horrified at) their prejudice while at the same time being unaware of my own prejudice against their lack of education.  It was the second group that showed me how prevalent racial bias is, regardless of educational achievement or cultural milieu, and how easily I also had participated in what Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Adichie refers to as “the danger of the single story.”  (You can view her TED talk here.)

All of us must work continually to view all people as what they really are:  humans created in the image of God and therefore imbued with infinite worth.  Whether our prejudice is against race or lack of educational attainment or religious affiliation it is still prejudice.  Refusing to pre-judge is hard work in part because we seldom see it in ourselves. But it is work we must do. It is a God-given work.