Monday, December 22, 2014

Following The Star: Follow

"Following The Star:  Follow"
Matthew 2:13-15; Luke 2:21-32


There was a visitor who was driving through town, and stopped to eat.  He asked his waitress, “Have there been any famous men or women born in this town?”
“Nope,” replied the waitress.  “Just babies.”

Think about it.  Just babies are born.  Famous men and women are not born famous.  They are made famous by strange turns of events, circumstance, chance, hard work, contrivance, notoriousness and probably a hundred other happenstance reasons.

Just babies.  Crying, needful babies.  Nothing famous about them other than they are born.  They made it into the world.  Famous, maybe at that point, only to their mother and father who brought that particular child to its birth.

Each mother and father dreams dreams about the future of each of their children.  Some parents try to mold their children's future in specific ways, making choices for their children according to those parental dreams.  Always pushing, prodding, driving their children--like horses--to the water and forcing them to drink.

Other fathers and mothers approach child raising with a sense of awe--that their child already has their destiny implanted in them at birth, and it is the father and mother's work to watch that destiny unfold.

Few fathers and mothers are told, way before their child is born, what their child's future will be.  It happens in countries where there is still a monarchy--like Great Britain.  In those places a child may be destined to be a king or queen, whether they want to be or not.  It is simply a matter of circumstance for those babies.

I had some hopes and dreams for my children.  But I was one of those kinds of parents who didn't push as much as I sat back in awe and wonder at how Ryan and Kristin dreamed, developed, grew, changed, became.  I tried to be the kind of parent who was more a cheerleader, giving celebration to their many successes; and roused them forward when the oppositional forces of life knocked them down and bruised them.

I wonder about Joseph and Mary.  I wonder about their own dreams and visions of parenting their first boy child.  I wonder if those dreams and aspirations were stolen from them by the angels and the shepherds and the magi.  They had no choice, it seemed, about the future destiny of their child.  They had to follow, or be resistant and rebellious.  That was the choice they had as parents.

Already, we have seen that Joseph and Mary were told what to name their baby.  They didn't even get to pick out his name.  What if they were planning to name him Joe, Jr.?  And also, we have seen, the names this child was to be known by, set the course for his entire life.  Jesus, which means, "the Lord saves."  This baby, this diaper swaddled baby, was destined to somehow save people from their sins, Joseph was told.

Immanuel was another name by which this baby was to be known.  Immanuel, meaning, "God is with us."  This baby, embraced by Joseph and protected by those strong carpenter's arms, was destined to somehow infuse the world with the very presence of God, the Creator of all that is.

Then the Wise Men show up looking for "the Christ."  The title "Christ" means, "the anointed One."  The action of anointing was reserved only for special people--like priests, prophets, and kings.  The anointed One became a person with a mission and a responsibility, and that was to bring wholeness and healing where there was brokenness and dis-ease.

Again, Joseph and Mary are signaled by this title, this pronouncement of "Christ" over their child that this baby would never be allowed to be just a baby.  The parents are, whether they like it or not, relegated to simply sit back and allow all this extravagance unfold.  Actually, they don't get to sit back.  They have to follow the constant parade of names and titles pronounced over their baby.  Joseph and Mary are never asked permission if this could all happen with their child.  They are told with the expectation they would be obedient and follow the fate of what they were told.

I'm reading a book titled, Lost Girl.  It's a story about a girl, Eva, who has been raised as a copy of another girl, Amarra.  Eva's what that society calls an echo.  Her whole life, so far, is a preparation of learning about Amarra, so that if something happened to Amarra, Eva, the echo, would have to step in and take the dead girl's place.  Eva never feels like her life has ever been her own.  And Amarra feels the same way, having to share every intimate detail of her life with Eva, just in case.  Both grow to resent each other, but they have no choice in the matter.  Life has been fated for them both.  They are both expected to follow the rules, and follow their instructions.  No choice.  No freedom from the expectations placed on both girls.

Maybe Joseph took Mary and the baby Jesus, running off to Egypt not as much to get away from Herod, but to get all of them away from this destiny that was being forced on the three of them.  Maybe Joseph had his own dreams for his son, apart from all those that God was unloading on him.  Get away.  Hide from God and all God's plans.  Wouldn't you be tempted to do the same?  It's something that Eva is considering in the Lost Girl novel I'm reading.  Run away.  Disappear.  Finally have her own life apart from what's been determined for her.

Maybe if you saw one more angel coming at you telling you what to do with your infant son, you'd finally get sick of it all and run as far away as was physically and financially possible as well.  Choose not to follow God's will, and follow your own.

At some point, Joseph and Mary must give into God's destiny for their child, let go of any dreams they may have had, and follow the Will of God.  We would hope, just as if it were our own child we were giving up to God's service, that Joseph and Mary’s grief would be replaced by pride in what their child would become:  the Savior, Immanuel, the prominent sign of God's presence in the world, and, the Christ.

Maybe Joseph and Mary took some time to look around at their own world and see its sin-sickness.  Maybe they began to look into the faces of people whose spirits had been infected with joylessness and dread.  Maybe they saw the ways that people seemed to be under the weight of grief in one form or another.  Maybe they saw a world that really needed healing--a world that needed to be restored to wholeness out of its brokenness.  And then, maybe, Joseph and Mary began to be in awe that their baby would be the one to bring about that healing.  Maybe, just maybe, God's vision for the future of their child became their own vision as well.  And with the melding of those three dreams, Jesus became all that he was meant to be, for us, and for our world.

Joseph and Mary didn't give up.  They gave in to God, and followed what God wanted.  Followed God's dream for this child rather than their own.  But it wasn’t just following.  It was CHOOSING to follow.  Mary and Joseph made a conscious choice to follow God’s leading.  If it wasn't for that choosing—for that following of God's dream—Christmas would not have happened, and the world would still be lost without salvation.

Monday, December 15, 2014

Following The Star: Searching

"Following The Star:  Searching"
Matthew 11:2-6

There was an editorial on one of the news magazines site about the trials and tribulations of the Republican and Democratic Parties, especially as that relates to the upcoming Presidential election.  The gist of the article had to do with the lack of vision in both parties, combined with the lack of a clearly defined and charisma-filled leader who embodies that vision.

One of the quotes that caught my attention reads:
America is now sauntering through her resources and through the mazes of her politics with easy nonchalance; but presently there will come a time when she will be surprised to find herself grown old--a country crowded, strained, perplexed--when she will be obliged...to pull herself together, adopt a new regimen of life, husband her resources, concentrate her strength, steady her methods, sober her views, restrict her vagaries, (and) trust her best, not her average, members.  (Time, November 17, 1986)

The thing that's amazing about this quote is it wasn't written this past week.  This quote was actually spoken a century ago by then President Woodrow Wilson.  That kind of vision and that kind of expectation seems to be a timeless expression of a people's hope.  David Anderson, a Religion Writer for UPI, in a recent interview made this observation:  "There is a vacuum, frankly, in church leadership in this country.  I just don't see where the next generation of mainline church leaders is going to come from."

So it doesn't matter if it's a political party or a church denomination.  There is a constant and ongoing search for leadership that will demonstrate itself in a purpose and a vision that can be caught and rallied behind.  As Woodrow Wilson stated, no ordinary person can fill such a role.  It has to be someone who is beyond reproach and untainted from the possibility of some kind of personal morass, or some political falderal.

Our personal problems and the issues facing the world loom too large and are increasingly complex.  The desire for someone to swing in our jungle, like a great Tarzan, give a mighty whoop and a holler that scares everything that is bad and oppressive away, is, in my estimation, a basic human desire.  Just look at the popular movies developed out of comic book heroes:  Superman, Spiderman, Transformers, Iron Man, Thor.  Even our comic book mythology is about some super hero who will do for us all what we can't do for ourselves.

It is also my estimation that we do not just sit around waiting for such a savior to swing into our lives--we go looking for them in all kinds of silent or expressive ways.  And it is further my impression that the reason we have this desire to search for a savior is because that desire has been planted in us by God himself.




II

Another thought, which forms the foundation upon which I am building my impressions is that our search for a savior who will rescue us from our problems comes also out of our felt and recognized needs.  If you agree with me that we are all in the midst of this kind of search, in one way or another, then you would also have to agree that one of the reasons we are looking is because our individual and corporate problems have grown past our ability to handle them or conquer them.  We need a savior!

And, our kinds of problems may determine what kind of savior we are looking for.  For example, in the political realm we have health care issues that go way beyond Obamacare.  We have military strategies that we are trying to make happen in concert with many other nations around the globe--but terrorism and a response to it are threatening to light one big fuse that would destroy that same globe.  We are moving faster than we first assumed toward global ecological disaster--and it's our own fault for creating the problem and then doing very little about it.

What compounds these problems is that our nation is paying for all this with money it doesn't have.  Our nations leaders are writing checks for all this that are bouncing out of the solar system.  And I read this week that the U.S. economy is no longer the number 1, most powerful and influential economy in the world.  According to the latest figures, China has finally passed us as the number one economy in the world, and that will remain so for decades to come.

Just looking at all these interrelated issues--and there are hundreds more I didn't mention--we certainly are going to need some kind of savior.

Add to this the moral and spiritual sludge the nation and world is in, along with all of our individual and personal problems, and you quickly and horrifyingly get a vision of a world out of control, in dire need of a savior.

III

So the search begins, some where in an individual's heart, or in the collective soul for a savior.  We search high and low, sometimes grasping at rumors, many times grasping at people and products which make false claims, setting themselves up as a savior, feeding, in a sick sort of way, on our dire need.

John the baptizer's day, not unlike our own, was filled with false claims made by many would-be-saviors, leading people not only astray, but to their doom.  The expectations were at a high.  But so were the hucksters with their crazy claims of a primrose path with all the easy answers.   Is it any wonder that John asked Jesus, "Are you he who is to come or shall we look for another?"

During his preaching a baptizing ministry, before his imprisonment, we get the idea that John was sure that Jesus was the One.  Twice John pointed Jesus out to his disciples and said, "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29, 36).  At another point John's disciples are asking him about Jesus, who is also now preaching and baptizing.  John replied to their questions with the statement, "He must increase, but I must decrease" (John 3:30).  There is an assurance early in John's ministry that is somewhere and somehow lost by him along the way.  So he sends to Jesus his question, "Are you he who is to come...?"

John, understandably, wants to be sure.  We would want to be sure.  We do not want to give ourselves over to just any fly-by-night savior.  How can John be sure?  How can we be sure?  Would John have accepted a simple answer from Jesus, "Yes, I'm the One," with no proof?  No evidence?  No assurances?  John's needs and the needs of his time were great.  And so are ours.  We need to be sure.

One of the only ways we can be sure that Jesus is the expected One, and that we need look no further, is to be in close touch with our needs.  What is it that any of us are searching for that we hope "he who is to come" will fulfill?  What do we want "he who is to come" to do for us?  To be for us?  Why are we searching?  For how long have we searched?  In what directions has our search taken us?

I read the story in a Readers Digest of a lady who was shopping at the supermarket.  She was in the dairy section.  It was September and a number of college students were in the store, who were now cooking and shopping on their own.

The lady picked up a dozen eggs, opened it up, lifting each egg to make sure none were broken or stuck to the carton.  One of these college students had watched her do this, and not knowing why, picked up his carton of eggs and started curiously looking underneath each egg.  Finally, he bent over to the lady and asked, "What is it exactly I'm supposed to be looking for?"

And so with the Messiah, the Expected One, the Savior, we need to know exactly what we are searching for.  Only when we are certain of our deeper needs, and then begin to have those needs fulfilled in amazing ways, can we begin to wonder, "Have I found the Savior, or should I keep looking?"

At one point in Jesus' ministry, after he had said some hard things about the demands of following him, many pulled back from him.  Wondering if those closest to him would also back away, Jesus asked them if they also wished to go their own way.  They replied, "Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.  And we have believed and come to know that you are the Holy One of God" (John 6:66-69).

The disciples expectations were tingling as well.  They wanted to know for sure.  They knew what they were looking for.  Jesus had come, began his ministry, and now they were wondering if he was the One.  Over a period of time, walking and talking with Jesus, witnessing the miracles, they had become convinced.  Notice in their reply to Jesus' question, the disciples say, "...we have believed and come to know that you are the Holy One of God."  "Believed and come to know."  Faith and knowledge.  Their faith and their knowledge must fit, like hand in glove, with their own searchings, in order for that personal relationship with Jesus to grip their hearts.

It's like seeing movie previews.  You may not be sure you want to see a certain movie.  Well, there's an app for that.  You get out your smart phone, and click on iTrailers.  Those previews will either whet your desire to see the film, or pour cold water on it.  The more and more the disciples saw, the more they wanted to see the whole picture.  Finally they got to the point where they wanted to not just see the big picture; they wanted to be in it, a part of it.

That is exactly the same message Jesus sent back to John.  "Go and tell John what you see and hear."  Don't just believe because I say so, is what Jesus was telling John (and anyone else who may be listening).  Jesus didn't want, nor expect, that people would believe on his word alone.  That's why John called the miracles that Jesus performed, "signs."  These signs pointed to and authenticated Jesus is "he who is to come."

Look around you.  Look inside you.  What are the signs that you have seen and felt, to others and to yourselves, that leads you to believe and know that Jesus is the One?  What have you seen and heard?  Could Jesus possibly be "he who is to come" for you?

One Christmas season, members of a church were preparing for their annual Christmas Pageant.  A little boy who had been crippled since birth and who walked with crutches, wanted to play a part in the pageant.  All of the major male roles had been given out--Joseph, Wise Men, Shepherds.  The boy was understandably disappointed.

Finally it was decided that he would play the role of the innkeeper.  The boy was heartbroken because he was the only person in the play who would have to reject Jesus.  All during rehearsals this very sensitive young boy was deeply troubled by the role he had been given to play.

The night of the pageant had come.  The sanctuary was packed with parents and members of the church.  The play began, and it progressed to the point where Joseph knocked at the door of the inn.  The little boy's big moment had arrived.  He couldn't restrain himself any longer.  He threw open the door of the inn and shouted at the top of his voice, "Come in!  I've been expecting you!"

This Christmas, may your searching cease.  May we not have to ask the question of John anymore, "Are you he who is to come...?"  But instead, like the little boy who expressed in his own special way the true spirit of the Christmas story, cry out with joyous voices, "Come in!  I've been expecting you!"

Monday, December 8, 2014

Following The Star: Preparing

"Following The Star:  Preparing"
Matthew 3:1-6

I think I'm on fairly safe ground when I say that getting ready for the Christmas season takes a great deal of preparation.  Maybe some of you are list makers, organizing all your tasks and checking them off, making sure all the details are covered.   Are any of these on your list:

__ haul all the boxed Christmas decorations out of your storage area
__ set up the artificial Christmas tree
__ decorate it
__ put outdoor lights up
__ haul all the empty decoration boxes back to the storage area
__ figure out what to buy for whom
__ purchase presents/gift cards
__ wrap presents
__ mail presents that go out of town
__ purchase Christmas cards (as if anyone does that anymore)
__ go over Christmas card list, adding and deleting names
__ become distressed that you deleted more names than added
__ write in cards, address them, stamp and mail  (hopefully before New Years Day)
__ plan for any kind of Christmas open house
__ dust off Christmas CD's (or records, depending on your vintage) and start playing them
__ if relatives are coming, clean house and guest rooms (if relatives aren't coming, leave guest rooms dirty)
__ if you're traveling to relatives homes, make travel arrangements, and smile thinking about them cleaning their guest rooms (you hope)
__ plan menus
__ make several runs to Dillon’s for all the food being prepared
__ attend various and sundry Christmas oriented gatherings (including, hopefully, church)
__ open presents
__ clean up after opening presents
__ seriously ponder the significance and/or meaning of some of the presents you got
__ let your dog figure out the best use of certain presents
__ put together toys that need putting together
__ repair new and newly broken toys you put together a half hour previously
__ haul all the boxes out of storage
__ put away all the decorations
__ put all the boxed decorations back in storage for another year
__ watch a lot of football
__ fall asleep watching a lot of football

Then, about one month later, (and put this on your calendar so you won't forget it), sit down and try to remember as much as you can about all that stuff on your list that you did.  Then try to gauge its impact, either positive or negative, on you and your family.

It's amazing how little of a real impact all that external preparation ultimately makes on our lives.  The only real impact comes on that highest of holy days, that falls some time in January, called VISA Day.  That day when everyone opens their credit card bill and utters, "Oh, my, God!"

Now this is not to say there will be nothing memorable.  Often there comes a Christmas season more full of memory making than others.  But for the most part, I am going to hazard the generalization that most Christmas' come and go with little real impact.  If that generalization rings true in your experience as well, then doesn't it all seem kind of contradictory and sad when you think of all the effort and time and money we put into it?  To make it something that it usually does not turn out to be?  Either our memories are too short, or the experiences are just not that memorable.

What I have found is that if a Christmas season is remembered, it is because of something that happened out of the ordinary--something unplanned, something surprising and serendipitous.  For all the planning we do, it is that which we haven't planned for that makes Christmas memories.  In other words, be prepared for surprises.  They just might be the only meaningful parts of your Christmas celebration.

II

Certainly it has been so, ever since that first Christmas.  Mainly because no one expected the first Christmas to even happen when it did, how it did, and where it did.  Sure there were expectations for a Messiah, or a kingdom ruled by God.  But no one was prepared for how it all unfolded.  Not even Joseph and Mary.

Part of the problem was that the spiritual climate had been anesthetized by the political hubbub of the day.  A census was going on and everyone had to travel back to their ancestral home town to be registered, counted, and assessed for tax purposes.  Everyone was preparing for their trips and grumbling all the while.  It caused physical, mental, and financial hardships on many.  Everyone was preparing for that, but they were not prepared for God's surprise.

They didn't have time to think about God, except to grumble at God for this mass exodus from one place to another.

Imagine if an angel of the Lord appeared in your living room on Christmas Eve, or on Christmas morning, in the midst of your most riotous unwrapping of gifts, and told you to go at once to such-and-such a place, because the Savior of the world has arrived.
"Well, gee, Mr. Angel, sir, uh we're kind of busy at the moment.  We're having our family get-together, and we're right in the middle of unwrapping gifts, and there's a bunch of people coming over later on, which has created a long list of things I have to prepare for our meal, and we'll have to clean up this mess, and we need to put together some of the kids toys because they're anxious to play with them, and thank you for coming, we'll try and drop by some time later--where did you say this place was again?"

Ever since that first Christmas, people have been busy preparing, but they have never really been prepared for what God was, and is, about to do.  The preparations, even though masked under the guise of religiosity, reap instead the fruits of spiritual insensitivity and dullness.

III

There are other kinds of preparations a person can make.  They will take just as much, if not more, effort on our parts, as compared with the other kind we are all familiar with.

But first, I think we need to face up to something personally hard for me to face up to.  And that is, a great deal of our Christmas customs and circumstances, which involve the greatest amounts of our time, effort, and money are not going to go away.  It appears we are not far from the day when fireworks stands will also be selling Christmas trees.  We won't be able to escape all the months of advance publicity and pressure unless we check ourselves and our families into a monastery some time before Halloween and then check out the day before Super Bowl Sunday.  All that stuff nagging at us to prepare for Christmas in that way, is not going to leave us unscathed.

One year, I talked the kids into just keeping Christmas a purely religious holiday.  We would have a small creche scene instead of a tree.  Instead of presents we would give the money we would have spent to a worthy charity.  We would have devotions and read from the Bible leading up to Christmas Day.  No glitter.  No hype.  No shopping.

That was an odd Christmas.  We didn't celebrate any of our future Christmas' in that way.  But who is to say that maybe in that Christmas' oddness was more truth, or authenticity, or Godliness.  I don't know.  The point is, as I've said already, it's hard to break away from established customs and create new ones.  Or reclaim more authentic ones.

So, given that hard reality, we need to try a different tact if we are going to keep anything of spiritual value and Godly expectation alive during the Advent season.  If we can't get rid of all the gloss and hucksterism, why not transform it--more specifically, redefine it?

Jesus' ministry was a mastery of taking ordinary situations and images and totally redefining them, instilling in them a spiritual dimension.  It wasn't a blending of the sacred and the secular, but a total redefinition of the secular by the spiritual.  Bread and wine into remembrance of His sacrifice.  Pearls, mustard seed, and buried treasure into images of the Kingdom of God.  Candles and bushel baskets into the message of personal evangelism.  Stories of an adulteress and a prodigal son demonstrating the amazing forgiveness and love of God.  A stable and a manger--a place for domesticated stock animals--as the birth place of a King.  A cross and a grave, symbols of a humiliating death, transformed into symbols of grace and eternal life.

We don't take this Christ-given ability and task of redefining our world seriously enough.  Mainly because we don't think critically enough about the definitions we are living under presently.  We just go on doing, because we don't know why exactly.  We don't look circumspectly enough into the meanings that are currently being massaged into our Christmas season.

We therefore lack the cleverness, the ability of infusing the spiritual into the mundane and the ordinary--a work that Christ performed and has now passed on to us.  It is no wonder that He told his followers, "Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; therefore be shrewd as serpents, and innocent as doves" (Matthew 10:16).

So, here's what I'm getting at.  Why not prepare for Christmas by redefining all the gloss and glitter?  Take all the customs that we so blithely swallow each December, examine them more critically in light of the Biblical story, and prayerfully and with spiritual creativity, discern how they can be redefined.

For example, take our Christmas tree here in the sanctuary.  The Christmas tree in and of itself is not a strong religious symbol--especially when you think about how we would be defining Christmas if this tree were decorated with shiny glass balls, plastic glow-in-the-dark icicles, Snoopy's dressed up like Santa Claus on top of his dog house, candy canes, stringed popcorn, and topped with Rudolph the red nose blinking reindeer.

The secular tree takes on new definition in this way with the white chrismons.  By being redefined with the religious symbolism, this tree calls into question all other secularly decorated trees, rather than the other way around.  Let the evergreen tree remind us of everlasting life.  The triangular shape remind us of the Trinity--Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  It reminds us of the true stories of the season, calling us back to God's reality, and beckoning us forward towards further redefinition.

We can take all such Christmas commercialization, and turn the tables on it, not letting it define our season for us, but taking them and redefining them according to the true meanings of the season.  We won't throw out the Baby with the glittery bath water, but we will keep the Baby and change the temperament of the water a bit.

We will be a bit more shrewd each season as we seek to outwit the world and the definitions it seeks to lull us into accepting.  And by so doing we will lull the world into accepting the true spiritual dimensions and definitions of the Christmas celebration.  It is subversion of the first order, but it is God's work.  And I will guarantee you, it is more exciting and exhilarating than anything you've done at Christmas.


IV

Now I want to take this subversive plot of redefining our preparations and our plans for Christmas one step further.  This process of redefinition has to do with more than all the hype and fanfare of our outward decorations.  It has to do most importantly with preparing the inner sanctum of your own personal lives.

How do you personally prepare for the Savior's coming?  How do you allow Him to break through all the hustle-bustle window dressing in your life?  How do you define yourself, and more importantly, how much are you willing to allow yourself to be redefined by this shrewd and innocent Jesus?

To what length are you willing to go to change the sum of what your life is adding up to--to not only change the answer, but all the questions as well?  Part of the message and the power celebrated at Christmastime is the chance to change what was the gaudy into what is Godly, the secular into what is sacred, the glitter into what is grander by far.

Just imagine the power of Christian redefinition--to change the meaningless into the meaningful, not only for this Christmas, bur for our lives as well!

"...the kingdom of heaven is at hand...make ready the way of the Lord!"

Monday, December 1, 2014

Following The Star: Yearning

"Following The Star:  Yearning"
Isaiah 2:1-5

Did you notice that word—
that word that comes up more often than any other
(ten times to be exact)
that word that seems so invisible
but yet holds within it the meaning
and the promise
of this passage.
It is the little word, “shall.”
From the very first
“It shall come to pass…”
To the very last
“…neither shall they learn war anymore”
These ten “shalls”
embody the hopes
the dreams
the gut-felt yearnings
of God’s people.

“Shall” is a word of hope,
because it speaks
of something
that will come
not might come
not a possibility
but an assurance.
“It shall come to pass…”

And so we wonder when…

When shall the house of the Lord
gain such prominence
that it can’t be taken for granted anymore?
When shall God’s house
gain such visibility
such attractiveness
that people will be naturally drawn to it?
When shall the church
gain such a position of positive leadership
that nations shall be drawn under its wings
rather than the other way around?
Instead,
the leadership of the church
shown, for example,
in the media circus of the Supreme Court decision
in Ferguson, Missouri
this week,
is embodied in buffoons
like Rev. Al Sharpton
who thinks he can swing like Tarzan
into the midst of that situation
and create a voice of calm.
The sad thing about Rev. Al
and those like him
is not that everyone knows he’s a media buffoon
except himself
is not his message
or his title
But that most Americans don’t care.
There was a time when America listened
to it’s religious leaders
and tall steeple preachers
and the church had a voice
and that voice had some power
and that power was paid attention to.
But no more.
Instead everyone waits for the fall
Like Seattle Mars Hill Mega Church pastor
Mark Driscoll
who resigned recently
being accused as a bully
over other church leadership
and other church members.
When shall the church be a force again in our culture
rather than a farce?
When will the church find its voice again
and be listened to
rather than ignored
as irrelevant?
When shall people
join hand-in-hand
in their eagerness to go to the house of the Lord?
When shall the bleeding of church membership stop
where people are leaving the church
in huge flocks
and instead of going on to a different church
go no where—
they leave the church for no where.
When shall they return?
When shall divisiveness
of so many opinions
about God and his ways
come to an end
where people only gravitate
to what they want to hear
pablum
tasteless
Joel Osteen drivel.
When shall all of that end
and we sit at the feet of the Master—
God Himself
and know first hand what God wants
rather than hear it
from arrogant fools
who think they speak for God?
When shall we know
that we are making the right decisions
for our lives
going along the straight and narrow
rather than veering
deviating
and generally being diverted
from God’s due course?
When shall we stop compromising our souls away
little bits of self
here and there
until we finally look in the mirror
and can’t see much of any substance left
and for the life of us
don’t even know where it’s all gone
or how it happened?
When shall truth
and justice
and true justice
prevail?
Not Supreme Court truth
debated over
based on conflicting bits of law
and  scurrilous opinions of this and that
but on truth?
Truth with a capital T?
When shall Pilate’s question
spoken to Jesus at Jesus’ trial—
“What is truth?”—
never have to be asked again?
When shall the victims of crime
get more attention
than the malefactors?
When shall victims of rape
and child sexual abuse
not be afraid
to stand up and courageously
speak their pain
because they’re afraid they won’t be heard
or worse
be blamed for the atrocity
that was forced on them
by someone they trusted?
When shall we finally be concerned
for the rights and the respect
of the victims
rather than worrying if the rights of the perpetrators
are being violated?
When shall a healthy respect
for what is right
and what is wrong
replace what’s culturally cool at the moment
smooth talk
and misguided morals
befuddling us into thinking
that wrong is right
and
right is wrong?
And that if we don’t think
like the movie stars
and stoop to their level of morality
or march to their drumbeat
of tolerance for every unBiblical lifestyle
that we are the ones
who are socially unacceptable!?
When shall an enduring peace
captivate the nations?
When shall come the day
when there shall no longer be any mention of
beheadings
armed drones
stealth bombers
IED’s
suicide bombers
because we finally stood up and said “enough”!?
Because there’s a better way
to resolve our conflicts?
When shall our war-bent technology
dismantle itself
rather than threaten
to obliterate the innocents?
Collateral damage?
When shall we be able to dance
under the banner of peace
rather than
cringe under the dooming
     shadow
     of
     terrorism?
When shall we be able to dismantle
the NSA
the CIA
the FBI
the KGB
NCIS
Homeland Security
because there’s nothing for them to do?

These are the yearnings
of God’s people
from Isaiah until now—
nothing has changed.

Oh God!  When will Thy day come!?


Maybe these yearnings
are not your own.
Maybe they are too global
too sweeping
too broad
too incomprehensible
in their magnitude
to fit into your own
personal world.
Maybe your yearnings
are more secret
hidden and tucked away
where you hope against hope
that some day
in a way that will almost assuredly have to be miraculous
they shall be fulfilled.

When shall cancer
and alzheimers
and AIDs
and heart disease
mental illness
and all the other illnesses
stop threatening
and torturing
and sucking
by inches at a time
our lives, and
the lives of family
and friends?
When shall drug abuse
and alcohol abuse
cease waving its skull and crossbones
over the living
the dead
and the living dead?
When shall marriage
taste romance again—
where eyes reflect only each other’s image
where years of assumed familiarity
have unfolded and developed
into a parallel kind of relationship
where lives seldom
if ever
intersect anymore
and refuse to be dressed
in the “one flesh” that God intended;
and how that same familiarity
has caused both husband and wife
to miss the subtle
and sometimes not so subtle
personality
and spiritual
changes that have occurred;
and,
how that same familiarity has lulled into the lie,
that nothing can ever be new
and fresh again?
When shall loneliness
leave us alone?
When shall the day come
that we shall find that special friend
who we can share our world with
who we can share our secrets with
in whose presence we won’t feel ashamed
but free,
someone who needs our friendship
just as much as we need theirs;
so, when we are asked the question:
Is there someone who really knows you,
we can joyfully answer
YES?

When shall?
When shall?
When shall?
Are these
some of your questions
some of your needs
some of your deeper
personal
yearnings?

O God, when shall Thy day come
so that yearnings
that fill our days
and weigh down our hearts
and minds
might be fulfilled?


Do not these deep yearning needs
cry out for a Savior?
One who is bigger than life
bigger than our lives, anyway
who can take the fulfillment of our wishes
and deliver us?
Not some cosmic Santa Claus
who would wrap our yearnings
in pretty paper
and make us think
behind the ribbons
and the glitter
and all the twinkling lights
and the ho, ho, ho’s
that
by the hand of that Santa Claus
we finally got what we have been yearning for.

We do need to be frank with ourselves
concerning our yearnings.
The truth is,
all yearnings are global in nature—
that is,
they are all of such great and dire need
that they will take more power
than we can muster
for them to be healed
or fulfilled
or brought under control
or done on earth
as they are in heaven.
They would not be yearnings
if they weren’t.

And so we grope
for even a shred of hope
for even a rumor of promise
that will lead us in that direction.
We look up into the heavens
and cry out to God
asking God
“In which direction should I look?”
As we await God’s answer,
our vision comes to rest upon a certain star
one that shines a bit more brightly than the others
one whose light
comes out like spikes
No,
like rays of hope.
We can almost hear Jiminy Cricket
singing in the background:
“When you wish upon a star…”

As the star makes its slow movement across the sky
we are tempted to follow its leading
not knowing where it’s going
or where we’re going—
If it is some kind of Godly sign
or if it is simply
a natural stellar movement
explained by science.
But
these rays of light
these rays of hope
are wooing us
bidding us to take a risk
pulling at us
pulling at our hopes and yearnings
for our world
for our own hope for fulfillment
our own desires that our dreams come true.

Because,
somehow we know
and we can’t explain how we know
we just do
that Someone larger than life
is behind the movement of that star,
and maybe
just maybe,
that Someone
awaits us at the end of the rainbow arc of this star.

Shall our yearnings finally come to pass?
Shall the primacy of the Lord’s house be established?
Shall the Lord unite us all in Him?
Shall God himself teach his people?
Shall true justice finally prevail?
Shall an enduring peace captivate our globe?
Shall morality be finally clear?
Shall there be an end to threatening and destructive illness?
Shall marriages find new life?
Shall loneliness be overcome by friendship?
Shall?
Shall?
Shall?

We hear the words of Isaiah
echo in our ears
as if they had been floating through the ages,
waiting for a receptive place
on which to finally come to rest:
“Now it shall come about…”
It shall come about…
It is that promise
that drives us to the star
that bids us follow it
because our yearnings are too deep
and the hope emanating from that star is too great
for us to do otherwise
to turn back from such a quest.

And so we turn,
and begin
following the star.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Like A Motherless Child

"Like A Motherless Child"
Ezekiel 34:11-17

Some times I feel like a motherless child
Some times I feel like a motherless child
Some times I feel like a motherless child
Long way from home
Long way from home

The words and the music of the spiritual describes well the scattering and shattering experiences of being in exile—of being lost in place that is not your own.  Maybe some of you saw the recent movie, Gravity staring Sandra Bullock and George Clooney.  During a walk in space, she becomes untethered from the main ship and is floating away in space.  One moment she is OK, held on by the safety strap, the next she is flying away, tumbling in space, away from the ship.  One moment secure, the next she is helplessly floating away from that security.  Rescue improbable, if not impossible.

Imagine what that would feel like.  Imagine what it would be like to suddenly snap free from everything that at one time was your security.  Imagine what it would be like to be holding your end of the rope and suddenly feel the other end go slack.  Imagine the fit of panic, quickly pulling in the rope to see for yourself there is nothing on the other end.  Or like this deep sea diver:




If you can imagine that, you know what it means to be scattered.  You know what it means to be in exile.  You know what it means to be in ancient Israel.  The circumstances may be different, but the feelings are the same.  The Israelites had been taken over by the invading Babylonian army.  The Israel countryside totally sacked through a pillage and burn policy of the enemy.  Separated from family and friends, not knowing if they are dead or alive.  Anything of cultural or religious value stolen or destroyed.

On a more basic level, there is the loss of the familiar, such as a daily routine.  We can imagine, for example, that one person as they are being marched away in chains, must have wondered, “But who is going to take out the garbage—today is garbage day,” without realizing it doesn’t matter anymore.  It’s not that they are concerned with the garbage; it’s more the loss of the routine.

Add to all that the uncertainty that the enslaved Israelites faced, not knowing what their future held.  In freedom, in their past lives, they may not have known what the future held either, but at least they felt like they had some control, some say, as to what would happen the next day, the next week.

El Cordobes, the famous matador, who when asked if he was afraid of death in the ring with the bull, said, “No.  Only life scares me.”  That is what being in exile does to a person.  Life scares you.  The parts of life, like:  Dislocation.  Rootlessness.  Hopelessness.

Some times I feel like I’m almost gone
Some times I feel like I’m almost gone
Sometimes I feel like I’m almost gone
Long way from home
Long way from home

What about people like me and you who have never been routed by a conquering army, never been dragged kicking and screaming from everything and everybody who provided our stability?  Even though we have never gone through that particular devastation, I think, nonetheless, we do have experiences that throw us into emotional exile.  They are scattering experiences that hit us on two fronts, each of which is singly capable of pulling the rug out from under our stable lives.

One front on which we are attacked is our need for continuity.  We are a church and we are a community that highly prizes our historical continuity.  We are proud of our history.  We know from where we have come, and how we got to where we are.  We use that tide of historical forces to create the wave and the momentum to ride upon into the future.

But what happens when we thought the wave we were on was the big one, and we would ride it all the way to the shore of our destiny, but it turns out to be a little one that quickly blends itself back into the vast ocean and we sink, way short of our goal?  Something has happened.  Something has changed.

Change has a way of scattering us from our sense of continuity, and what is lost is the vision and the hope for this fulfillment of our dreams.  As one philosopher-humorist once pointed out, “We’re all in favor of progress provided we can have it without change.”

We base our lives on some kind of values, and assumptions.  With those values and assumptions, we create a role for ourselves.  What happens is that there are times in our lives that a change takes place, and those values and assumptions are challenged.  The crisis is so severe that it forces us to reevaluate and redefine our roles.  The humorist Sam Leveson once said, “I set out in life to find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Now I’m eighty and all I’ve got is this pot” (pointing to his stomach).

At some point comes the loss of youth, youthful dreams, and our “some day” aspirations.  All the magic hopes that all our dreams will come true must go through the scattering experience of change.  It has been said that if our dreams do not come true we can take consolation that neither do our nightmares.  But change can be a living nightmare, a process that must be lived through, and you don’t know if you are going to be able to escape from all the monsters along the way.

The book, Dear Deedee,is the published diary of Dori Schaffer.  She was a beauty queen, a prize-winning artist, a writer, a Phi Beta Kappa scholar, a Woodrow Wilson fellow, and a promising doctoral candidate.  She was riding an amazing wave to high aspirations.  Then, through a variety of bitter experiences, her wave played itself out beneath her feet.  At one point, she wrote:

I compare myself to Ivan (in Doestoevesky’s The Death of Ivan Ilych) where he is tormented by the feeling that his life was not worthwhile.  His mental sufferings were due to the fact that at night…the question suddenly occurred to him:  What if my whole life has really been wrong?

When that question is asked, imagine what happens.  The past that provided one’s sense of continuity is suddenly dislodged and made irrelevant.  With the past debunked, the future suddenly disappears into a fog of fear and meaningless.  Suddenly there is only the here and now.  Only the here and now is real, and what is here and now hurts with a distinct sharpness.  Life becomes a bow whose string is broken and from which no arrow can fly.

There was once a businessman who noticed one of his friends walking downtown wearing a band around his arm with the initials, “B-A-I-K.”  As they stopped at the same corner, waiting for the light, the businessman asked his friend what the letters stood for.
“Boy Am I Konfused,” replied the man.
“But, you don’t spell confused with a K,” protested the businessman.
“Hey,” the man replied.  “You don’t know how Konfused I am!”

When our lives have been fixed on some track of continuity, and something derails us, everything becomes fluid.  For a while, nothing stays the same or permanent.  With great change comes many aftershocks of change.  Life is now a collage with many different pieces, rather than a flowing unity of brush strokes.

God is searching for those kinds of people who have been scattered by change.  He is looking for people who have lost their dreams.  God wants to give them a place of rest where they can dream again.  God is delivering them to a place and a perspective where they can see that past and present have been meaningful, and thereby gaze again with anticipation into the future.

One of my seminary professors told me about the time he had gone through a deep depression.  For a couple of years his life was a sucking whirlpool.  The farther he was pulled in the faster it seemed to make him spin.  Dreams had been very important to him, and had kept a journal of his dreams.  One recurring dream was about a foundation being built.  Then a carpenter began putting up studding.  Now and then the man saw himself helping the carpenter who was doing most of the work.

When my seminary professor shared the dream with a therapist, the therapist asked him if he knew any carpenters.  The professor said he didn’t.  “Wasn’t Jesus a carpenter?” asked the therapist.  “Isn’t he rebuilding your life right now, piece by piece?”

In a way God knew he could get the professors attention, he was telling him, “I have found you; renew your hope.”  And in ways that God knows He can individually get our attention, He will find us and speak to us, and to our feelings of hopelessness brought on by some change.

Some times I feel like I been runnin’ too long
Some times I feel like I been runnin’ too long
Some times I feel like I been runnin’ too long
Long way from home,
Long way from home.

The other side of the coin to our need for continuity is a need for permanence.  There needs to be something or someone that we are sure will be with us no matter what.

Stopped by a policeman for driving with a tail light out, the driver became quite distressed.  “Don’t take it so hard,” consoled the policeman.  “It’s not a ticket.”
“That’s not the point,” replied the troubled driver.  “What worries me is what’s happened to my wife and my trailer!”

When we lose those things in our lives that give us a sense of permanence, we find ourselves suddenly scattered and exiled.  Psychologists have found that most people depend on some other person or on an external goal to constantly reassure themselves that they are of value.  When that significant other, or that dominant goal is lost, we ache, we feel empty, and abandoned.  The dark and fast moving clouds of meaninglessness and the feeling of being unnecessary begin to roll in and block our blue skies.  Self-esteem can be shattered.

Who we thought, or what we thought we would always have to hold on to—that which we thought would always be our lifeline—may be gone.

As he aged, James Moore, owner of Dinty Moore’s restaurant in New York City, badly missed two of his departed cronies.  One quiet afternoon, the absence got intolerable.  The old man fixed up two packages wrapped in butcher paper and tied them with string, climbed into his chauffeur driven Packard, and went to Woodlawn Cemetery.

At the mausoleum of his friend Sam Harris, the theatrical producer, Moore placed a beautiful hunk of corned beef and reminded him aloud how inconsiderate he had been to die young.  By the time Moore had marched over to the mausoleum of George M. Cohan, he was steaming mad.  The other parcel was a fish, which he beat against the mausoleum door.  “Cohan!” Moore shouted.  “In case you don’t know, today’s Friday, and I just wanted you to see what you’re missing!”  And with that, the old man slid to the floor and wept.

This is the work of grief, when it creates its aching distance between ourselves and that which we wanted to hold on to as solid ground.  How do we go on with life without the significant other?  How do we rebuild our lives without some external and captivating goal?

In Charles Dicken’s, A Tale of Two Cities, a prisoner in the Bastille lived in a cell for many years and cobbled shoes.  He became so used to the narrow walls, the darkness, and the monotony, that when finally liberated, he went straight home and built, in the center of his home, a cell.  On days when the skies were clear and birds were singing, the tap tap tap of the cobbler’s hammer could still be heard coming from his own dark cell.  Grief has a way of imprisoning us and keeping us that way.

God is looking for such grief-trapped people.  He is searching for them personally—those who have been scattered and exiled into cells of loneliness.  When God finds such people, He wants to lead them out of the cell by their hands and open up before them a wide and comfortable place where they can roam and grow and feed on all that God can provide.  God is coming with the message that even though all else may tumble down around you, He is permanent, and will always be so for those whom he loves.  God is searching for, and finding, and caring for, and delivering those who “were scattered on a cloudy and gloomy day.”

Some day the Lord’s gonna find this child
Some day the Lord’s gonna find this child
Some day the Lord’s gonna find this child
Lord, take me home
Lord, take me home

Monday, November 17, 2014

Never Give Up Praying

"Never Give Up Praying"
1 Thessalonians 5:15-24

When I was in seminary, there was a little room just off the sanctuary.  It was the room that was used the least of all the rooms on campus.  It was the room for private prayer.  It was just a little bare room with a chair, maybe two, and a small altar.  The door was always open.

I confess, of the three years I was on that seminary campus, I never went in that room.  Never used it.  Nor did I use other places of prayer, or opportunities for prayer.  When I prayed, I did like all of my seminary peers:  I opened a Book Of Common Worship, and read one out of there.  It was the only kind of praying I had modeled for me.  I did as I saw.

Like most Christians, I knew prayer was important.  I just didn't know what it was or how to do it.  I got a book about prayer now and then.  Mostly because I felt a nagging guilt that I should know how to pray.  I was like most of us in the way we approach a task:  I was convinced that if I learned the technique of praying, I would be able to pray.  It was just a matter of learning the technique, as if I were simply learning how to play the guitar.  But just because I have learned the technique of playing the guitar doesn't necessarily mean I understand music.  Or appreciate it.  That comes from a deeper quest, and I had not even begun to embark on that quest in respect to prayer.  That would come later, by crisis.

The crisis was my first church out of seminary.  I entered seminary clutching my Bible and ready to serve Christ.  I left seminary clutching my theology books and not exactly knowing who Jesus was.  I was at a church, unbeknownst to me, that was a tyrannosaurus that had a hunger for pastoral meat.  Several pastors in a row, who had served that church before me, had been chewed up and spit out.  The average stay of a pastor at that church, over it's 100 year history was 2 and a half years.  I was next.  I thought I was ready.  I was a fool.  I thought I had the truth.  I didn't know squat.  I thought I was strong.  I have never whined and whimpered more in my life.

I remember one Sunday.  I got up early, as has become my habit, and went next door to the church.  I practiced preaching my sermon to an empty sanctuary.  Suddenly I stopped in the middle of my rehearsing.  A pit opened up in my stomach.  I started breathing heavy.  I left the sanctuary and walked around the block.  Several times.  I was making myself sick.  It wasn't just because I was nervous about preaching.  It was because I was nervous about what I was preaching.  It was just a bunch of words.  Moralistic clap-trap about "we gotta be nice to each other."

Part of this was Floyd Hogg's fault.  Floyd was an 84 year old man in the congregation.  He was my first spiritual mentor.  But he had no idea that's what he was doing for me.  He taught Adult Sunday School.  He had for years.

When he started each class with prayer, or when he would help me lead worship and he would pray, or when I would go over to his house to play Chinese Checkers and drink root beer floats and he would pray at the end of my visit, I knew I had gotten way off track.  There was something about him that was so powerful in a quiet sort of way.  I knew I wanted what he had.  There's a verse in the book of Ecclesiastes that describes Floyd:  "The quiet words of the wise are more effective than the ranting of a king of fools" (Ecclesiastes 9:17).  That was Floyd.  Quiet wisdom and strength.  That flowed out of a relationship of prayer.

It wasn't soon after my anxiety attack about my preaching and pastoring that Floyd died.  While I was on study leave he had gotten sick and went into the hospital.  By the time I got back he was nearly gone.  His was one of the hardest funerals I've ever done.

After he died I got deeply depressed.  I felt like I was washing out of the ministry.  Floyd had modeled something for me that was deeply engaging, but I still didn't understand.  The life of prayer.  I wanted that with all my strength, but had no idea what direction to take, or how to take care of my nagging restlessness and depression.  All I knew was I had nothing to preach.

The more theological books I read the more confused I got.  The more people I talked to, most of whom were supposed to be the most looked-up-to pastors in the Presbytery, the more I realized their lives were just as empty as mine.  They had just learned how to pretend and become accomplished Sunday morning actors.  I was determined not to become one of them.  But how?

Answers did not come quickly, but they did come steadily.  The first thing that God did was open up a move for me to California.  I became an Associate Pastor in Saratoga, a suburb of San Jose.  I was in charge of the Christian Education programs, getting a new Christian Education wing built, Deacons ministries, and all youth activities.  Only rarely did I preach, which was OK by me.  If I never preached again, it wouldn't have bothered me.  Because, by then, preaching terrified me.

I thank God as I look back over those years.  I know God wasn't giving up on me, though I was ready to give up.  God put me in each place to help turn my head.  Turn my head toward prayer.  Turn my head in God's direction.  Sounds weird coming from a minister, doesn't it.  You have no idea how many ministers out there don't pray, don't know what prayer is.

At Saratoga, the people of the church in the programs and areas of ministry I was responsible for, were deeply spiritual people.  People who knew about prayer.  People who actually prayed.  Through knowing Floyd, and then those others in Saratoga, I learned my first lessons about prayer.  That probably sounds weird, too--that a minister learned about prayer from his parishioners.  If you don't know what it is, find people who do and who model the life of prayer.  I didn't know how to do that for myself, so God did it for me.  God intentionally forced me into places where there were people who could help me become a person of prayer.

I took a risk with those people.  I shared my pain and my sense of failure.  My pastoral self-esteem was at the bottom.  Instead of being judgmental or shocked, they prayed with me.  They guided me.  They gently asked me hard questions, and then entered my struggle to find answers to those questions.  Struggled before God in prayer in communion with me.  It was a tremendous time of healing and energizing for me.

At the same time, I picked up a book.  I was trying to find my way as a young Pastor.  Discover what it meant to be a Pastor.  What was my role?  What was my work?  The book I bought was titled, Five Smooth Stones For Pastoral Work, by Eugene Peterson (who did The Message Bible).  Peterson used the image of the five smooth stones David took out of the brook with which he killed Goliath, for the work of the ministry.

One of the longer chapters was about prayer.  One of the main roles of the pastor, Peterson described, is to spend a good amount of time in prayer.  If we are going to talk about God to our congregations, we better know God.  The only way to do that is by prayer.  We better be in prayer.

Peterson captured my attention, as I was growing in awareness about the life of prayer.  I read every one of his books.  I wrote him.  He was, at that time, a Presbyterian Pastor in Maryland.  I asked him if I could come back to stay with him for a week of my study leave to just talk with him.  He reluctantly agreed.  It was probably one of the best weeks of study leave I have ever spent.

Again, one of the points I'm trying to make about prayer for you was brought home to me:  If you don't know how to pray, get yourself together with someone who does.  Let them lead you.  Listen and pay attention.  My empty restlessness and sense of spiritual failure was slowly being transformed into a life made full and with peace through prayer.  Prayer that was modeled for me by people who were willing to be spiritual guides for me and lead me in God's direction.

Eugene Peterson gave me some basic, foundational, and important direction.  I want to share just a couple of those learnings.  They had to do with my expectations about prayer that were all wrong.

The first was that I thought I could learn prayer relatively quickly.  In most things I have been a quick learner.  I thought prayer would be the same.  What I found out was that prayer takes a lifetime.  It takes a lifetime because prayer is not a technique, it is a relationship.  When you learn to pray, you are not learning a technique, as if that's all prayer is.  You are learning how to be in relationship with the Most High God.  Developing that relationship will take you your whole lives.

I have a book, the title of which is The Little Notebook: The Journal of a Contemporary Woman's Encounters with Jesus.  It's an unusual book.  The author, Nicole Gausseron, records her daily conversations with Jesus.  Not just prayers that she prays.  Conversations.  Here's one of those:

The garden is full of sunlight, silence too.  The children will be arriving in a few minutes.
--Lord, are you here?
--Yes.
--It seems to me that it's been a few days since we've been together.  I feel a little dull in your presence.
--Nicole, I'd like to ask you something.  Would you like to give me a present?
--Yes.
--Take time for me.  Now and then you take time to call somebody, to listen to the voice of a friend.  Give me a call now and then.
--You want us to become gradually more intimate with each other?
--Yes.

How many of you have friends?  How did they get to be your friends?  Simply by saying, "You are my friend?"  No.  It took work and energy and time and effort.  You start by taking small steps in getting to know each other, and then you gradually risk more.  Your friendship deepens.  Gradually you become personally and intimately involved in their lives, and they in yours.  It is no different with God.  If we say we are God's friend, but we do nothing to encourage that friendship in prayer, we are living a lie, and our lives become spiritual frauds, just as I felt mine had become.

There was a time when philosophers were trying to prove that God existed.  One of the philosophers of that time, Blaise Pascal, in his proof, said he believed God existed because, "There is a God-shaped hollow in each in each of us that nothing else can fill."  I believe that's true.  Do you feel it?  Do you sense that deep hollow?  But most importantly, do you realize it can only be filled by a relationship with God?  I think we all feel it.  I think we all know where it is.  I think we also try and fill it with a bunch of other stuff that doesn't ever fit.  Only through a prayerful, ongoing, life-time relationship with God will that void be filled.

Your relationship with God is the easiest one to neglect.  It is the easiest relationship to let go by the wayside.  But it is the most important relationship you have.  When that God-shaped hollow goes unfilled, you will feel deeply hollow and unfulfilled.  You will know that something is missing in your life.  Something deep.  You will become restless.  You may even become depressed.  Realize what that restlessness and that emptiness is signaling for you.  It is beckoning you to a life of prayerful relationship with God.

In that way, prayer is not effortless or spontaneous.  Prayer is hard work, just like any important relationship is hard work.  Those were some of the other lessons I learned from Eugene Peterson.  Words don't come easily.  They are at times hard to find.  That's one of the reasons we have the Bible, and books like the Psalms, to give us the words, to prime the pump of our lips, so that conversation can start to flow.

Prayer is not just talking.  It is also learning how to listen.  God does talk back.  Believe me, God does know how to talk.  It becomes the pray-ers task to learn how to listen to God's voice.  How to pick out the divine Voice and distinguish it from all the other voices.  How to converse with God.

It's easy to give up.  Hearing God's Voice, and becoming conversational with God takes time.  It's easy to become frustrated, and by neglect, or time, or whatever, leave God totally alone.  And then the hollow starts aching again.  Don't give up praying.