A Christmas Poem... Inspired by Procrastination

One week until Christmas and all through the house,

I tripped upon presents and found a dead mouse!

The tree was lit up with glass ornaments and all,

when the cat climbed its branches and started to fall.

Crackle and snap! Bulbs started to pop!

As the cat shredded tinsel, the angel did drop!

Sparks flew from the wall, the plug from the socket;

its hasty departure ignited the cat-rocket!

I ran and I screamed towards the cat in the sky;

I swung and I swore to the cat, "your end's nigh!"

He landed claws out on a freshly wrapped package;

my wrath would soon be endured by the savage.

As I reached for his scruff the beast ran 'tween my feet

and I tripped on the box filled with chocolatey sweets

now covered in brown chocolate salty confection

I rose to my feet for some kitty detection

"Here kitty, here kitty," I started to call

when off of the bookcase the lion did maul!

Oh Christmas! Dear Jesus! What have I created?!

A genuine, bonafide, domesticated...

Demonic, satanic, feline marauder

turned on his owner and ready for slaughter!

Then falling on Billy's new bicycle parts

I felt that the metal has spikes and it smarts!

Then catching a glimpse of my furry contender

he bolted from sight, so I reached for the blender.

Now maybe this move seems a strange thing to you,

but I tend to think a Margherita is due.

Not only has satan possessed my cat

but my Christmas decor and the presents are splat

With one week to go, and so much to do,

how will I get by? How will I get through?

I cleaned and I swept up the mess that was made

from the cat and my antics of lunatic rage

Christmas was lovely, we sipped on eggnog

And all prayers were answered, Santa gave me a dog.

Sermon on Luke 21:1-19

It was 8:30 in the morning when my alarm went off. I had class at 9 so I had just enough time to get ready and make it up the hill from my dorm room. It was about 10 minutes before the hour when I walked towards the common room where the elevators were. As I turned the corner, there stood about 30 people in the room.

“A little early for a party,” I said. But just as I spoke, I realized everyone was looking out the window - a panoramic wall of glass overlooking New York Harbor and the Manhattan Skyline. The day was September 11, 2001.

  

It’s interesting because as I stand here before you, I realize that I’m in a room full of people most of whom fully comprehend the events of that day.

Maybe some of you were there, or somehow you were directly impacted through family or friends.

Some of the young folk here today might have been too young to remember, and of course some weren’t even born yet. How fortunate it is for those who will only come to know of its horrors through YouTube videos and history books.

I can remember when I was ten years old, I went up to the top of the towers for the first and only time. It was a camp field trip. I spent the bus ride up to the city pretending to be afraid that the bus would tip over so that my teenaged counselor would hold my hand to comfort me. I was no fool.

When we arrived at the towers, we just stood there and looked up and up and up. They went up forever. When we stepped into the elevator, it took off! It felt exactly like a rocket being launched into space! Seriously, I know what I’m talking about.

10, 20, 35, 40, 50, 65, 80, 93, 105, 106, 107, ding.

I catch my insides from flying out my head. The doors slide open. I begin to hyperventilate.

Turns out I’m really afraid of heights and the first thing you see when the elevator doors open is New York City from 1200 feet north of the concrete!

It took a little while, but I came around. Eventually, one of the counselors plastered my face up against the glass and made me look down. Ten minutes of that and I was ready for a good time! Feeling the building sway was a little weird, but I accepted the engineering genius. It really was an incredible sight.  

And as I stood there in the common room that day…   staring…  smoke billowing… wondering how many people were trapped, seeing people jump,

I remembered looking up. 

I still didn’t see it coming. The earth roared beneath our feet.

They were gone: the towers, the people. Gone.

“As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

The days, weeks and months following were filled with some of the greatest hardships that, certainly New Yorkers, but many Americans have ever experienced, at least until hurricane Katrina, and most recently hurricane Sandy. And in the years since, we have seen war and national uprisings in an unprecedented fashion across the globe.

Every day our news cycle is filled with concerns of nuclear armament and natural disasters.  The devastating typhoon in the Philippines is so fresh in our minds as we wait to hear the final count of the lost.  

You see, it is people like you and me to whom Luke shares this gospel message.

Jesus’ words in the text today are not just a record of a conversation, but a reminder of what has already come to pass in first century Jerusalem. Many among Luke’s audience know first hand about the temple’s destruction and the Roman suppression of Jewish revolts. Some have come of age in its aftermath and for others it is but history. In their day, amidst political unrest and persecution, there were those who persisted to claim, “The end is nigh!” But in contrast, the words we hear are Jesus’ call to live as faithful disciples in times of adversity, and the promise of Christ’s unrelenting presence among us.

It is an invitation to trust God.

It’s true though, that adversity is not just a global or national phenomenon like 9/11, a hurricane, or the destruction of the temple. Every person in their own way comes face to face with troubling circumstances of all sorts.

Health scares, accidents, injuries, unemployment, social and economic violence, you name it, someone in this room has experienced it or is caught up in the midst of it as we sit here.

These trials and challenges are real, they are painful, and it is too cliché to say, “every thing is going to be alright” or “every thing happens for a reason.” There isn’t a single sufficient reason why 3,000 people died in a terrorist attack or a hurricane, or why ONE child dies of starvation when there’s more than enough to go around. And IF IT IS God’s plan than we’ve gotta start asking some tougher questions of our God.

All I can tell you is that the God we have in Jesus Christ is not a God who BRINGS ON suffering but a God who BEARS our suffering with us, our God who takes our suffering with him on the cross.

Brothers and sisters, we have a God who in our most desperate moments absolutely refuses to leave us alone!

Recall the account of the poor widow at the beginning of today’s Gospel. She gave all that she had as an offering to the temple. The question still remains; was Jesus praising her generosity or expressing his frustration of an oppressive temple system? We aren’t in a position to judge that, but what we do know is that her poverty was real and we can assume that she trusted in God’s provision enough to give it all away.

I’m not going to lie. There are days, more often than not, when I cannot do that. I cannot give it all away. Maybe you feel the same. Will there be enough to pay the bills this month?

How will I take care of my parents AND my children?

Will this cancer go away? I don’t know.

I do know that in Baptism, Christ draws us ever so near to him.

And I know that by our baptism Christ promises to live in us so that we might live like Jesus to share the good news of his redeeming grace which sets us free from fear and anxiety and causes us to participate even more intensely in this world: to give more freely, care more deeply, to love more urgently and experience the love of God more fully!

Even when we don’t feel it, even when we absolutely disbelieve it, God…is… here! Amen. 

Accidentally Ageist: A Quick Head's Up

So I'm particularly concerned about Ageism in the Church. Not in the way you think though. I'm more concerned that as the Church moves further into the 21st century - and our median age rises - many emerging congregations (and even well established congregations) are strategizing solely for the proselytization of the young, the 18-35ers, and neglecting our duty to evangelize to people of all ages. Don't get me wrong, I'm 32, my generation needs some Jesus love in a bad (meaning emphatic) way, but let's not get tunnel vision. The body of Christ doesn't look like a bunch of 20-something hipsters grooving to some Arcade Fire-esque tunes about the Lord. Nope. Not even a little. A 20-somethings retreat might, but the body of Christ is a people from stroller to walker. That fact cannot be ignored. So to all of my evangelizing friends out there desperately seeking to fill their pews with youngsters, remember: our elders are seekers, too... whom also might have grandchildren.

Families are made up of generationS. Especially God's.

"Those who sing pray twice."

"Those who sing pray twice." Yeah, that's a bunch of hoo-ha. Attributed to Augustine, bishop of Hippo (c. a really long time ago) this pretty little quip - a paraphrase of a profound notion - catches the attention of so many, lifting up the gift of song, placing it upon an unfortunate pedestal.

As a musician I truly appreciate the gift of music as an expression of faith, particularly in my own communication with God as well as in the context of corporate worship. Music (many kinds, but certainly not all) moves my spirit in ways that other things simply cannot. When I play my guitar, or any instrument for that matter, I tap into the depths of who I am, able to express myself in a way that utterly trumps my ability to speak. Huh. This reminds me of a verse:

"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words." - Romans 8:26

A few years ago, I came in contact with a young person whose name I unfortunately can't remember. I was fascinated by him because he absolutely despised all forms of music. Of course this weirded me out. Who hates music? Doesn't everybody find joy in some form of music? I know for a fact there are at least a few people who actually appreciate country.

So what about my young acquaintance? Are his non-melodic praises and supplications insufficient? Do they lack merit in comparison to Josh Groban's The Prayer? Obviously not. But what does this cheapened Augustinian notion say to the tone-deaf person who doesn't enjoy singing or is embarrassed by their lack of gifting? What does it say to the hearing impaired who have never even experienced music before? You didn't pray hard enough.

Why am I even bringing this up?

As a worship leader, especially of the - for lack of a better term- contemporary persuasion, I find it really hard to find quality music for the worship setting. Don't get me wrong, there's a ton of worship-ful music about the Three-in-One, but quite frankly, the lot of it is straight-up-not-appropriate for church. The melodies are tricky, they're not meant for group singing, it's loud, yadda-yadda, bleh. Most people stand and watch and even appreciate it, but are they worshipping or getting a good show? I don't intend that to sound mean but even the most heartfelt performance is still a "performance."

So how are we engaged in prayer and worship as a community gathered together? Or more pointed, how and what must worship leaders and planners consider to engage ALL of the faithful in worshipping God with their whole selves?

There's the question. What do you think?

Easter is coming. But wait, put on your pensive face.

I love hearing from people that Lent is their favorite season of the Church Calendar. Why's that? I'm glad you asked. WelI, I love hearing it because it says to me that there are many who appreciate the opportunity for reflection and instituting discipline into their spiritual lives. There's a desire to experience God in new and more meaningful ways on a regular basis. Lent inserting its way into our lives each year is a reminder to stop and reflect on our flawed humanity, our idolatry of our favorite things, and our desperate need of a savior. It's a reminder to stop and reflect on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. It's a reminder to stop and reflect on the fact that even in the midst of the misery of the cross, resurrection comes.

However, I wonder why we only incorporate these practices during the 7 weeks of the season? I like to think that the 40 days of Lent are a spiritual awakening for us. We start off by recognizing our need for more prayer, study, service, or space for God that we make by fasting or cutting something out. So why do we sell ourselves short and go back to all our bad habits at Easter only to feel the same way a year later? These Lenten disciplines aren't just a 40 day challenge that we can be proud of once we've completed it - although it would make a great reality series. No, these disciplines are meant to transform us, to cause us to reflect on who we are as children of God so that on that Easter morning we rise anew, changed by a deepened relationship with the One who made us, redeemed us, and guides us.... 

There's something to be said about being concise.

Matthew 14:28-33

When events, happenstance or even our own self worth challenge the things we believe, we often begin to ask all sorts of questions and in some cases we sink further into doubt. When the events around Peter snatch away his determination to do as Jesus does, he also doubts. Jesus does not condemn Peter’s doubt but rather reaches out his hand and encourages his faith, perhaps a bit coarsely. We are reminded in the Gospel of John Chapter 15, that Jesus says, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.” So as disciples, along with Peter we strive to be like Jesus. Even though we may struggle in our faith, have doubts, and often fail to be faithful, by our baptism, we, too, can take it to heart that God has complete faith in us and continues to choose us.