difficulties and difficulties

Jonesville, MI

At the men's group Saturday morning, after my comments about avoiding the "thorns," Kevin pointed out that there are still many difficulties to be faced. Even more than usual, if we're following Jesus' footsteps.

Yes, but there are difficulties and difficulties. Jesus spoke of thorns that choke faith, and also persecutions that purify our faith. Unfortunately most of the stresses of our lives are the thorny kind, we bring them on ourselves through our own desires and are afraid to move away from them.

After the bible study, many of the men went to breakfast together. And Kevin and I talked with a man who had done counseling and charity work and found that many who received his help were ungrateful and demanding. That's a common enough experience. Trying to help those who lie and take advantage of good intentions. But I pointed out that these are exactly the kind of difficulties that can purify our faith.

To take a risk, trying to love someone, means that we may receive evil in return. Jesus showed that this happens even when the love is perfect. Knowing this, will we still reach out to others? And when we are burned, will we reach out again? And again?

To face resistance when we're trying to make money, or gather possessions, or exercise power over others, this is simply the struggle for the things everyone wants for themselves. It drags us all down--unless in it we recognize the futility of the struggle. But to face resistance when we're trying to give, and persevere in the giving, this purifies our intention, our heart.

"As for what was sown on rocky ground... he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away." (Mt 13.20-21)

"But he who endures to the end will be saved." (Mt 24.13)

"he crowns the poor"

Concord, MI

One of the other psalms I chant every Sunday (Ps 149) has these favorite lines:

For the Lord takes delight in his people.
He crowns the poor with salvation.

Saturday morning I went with Kevin to his men's bible study. Good discussion. One of the passages we looked at was Matthew's version of the parable of the sower. Someone mentioned struggling with the "thorns" and another man said that they are an unavoidable part of this life. But I questioned that. Jesus describes the thorns as "cares of the world and the delight in riches," and he taught that we ought to avoid those thorns:

"Sell your possessions, and give alms; provide yourselves with purses that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys." (Lk 12.33)

And Jesus himself avoided the lure of money and possessions, and also avoided positions of power (such as when they wanted to make him king) with all the "cares of the world" that those roles lay on us.

I also got to have several conversations with Kim and Kevin about marriage; they have led marriage retreats and have lots of good insights. But Heather and I have the added challenge of a life of poverty and working with the poor.

We got a little sign of God's support, though. I got to Ann Arbor a week early, then Heather got invited to the Mennofolk folk music festival next Sunday--in Michigan, right near my walking route. And my brother Glen offered me a ride on his way to Chicago yesterday. So this morning I started walking from Jackson, MI, and should be able to make it to the festival by Sunday. An unexpected mid-summer rendezvous.

blessed are You

This morning in church I was reading in Revelation (I often read the bible during uninspiring sermons), and came across these lines that reminded me of my thoughts a couple days ago:

"I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty...

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead... (Rev 1.8,17)

And one of the Sunday songs I chant has the same feel. It's from an apocryphal part of Daniel:

Then the three, as with one mouth, praised and glorified and blessed God in the furnace, saying:





"Blessed art thou, O Lord, God of our fathers,
and to be praised and highly exalted for ever;
And blessed is thy glorious, holy name
and to be highly praised and highly exalted for ever;
Blessed art thou in the temple of thy holy glory
and to be extolled and highly glorified for ever.

Blessed art thou, who sittest upon cherubim
and lookest upon the deeps,
and to be praised and highly exalted for ever.

Blessed art thou upon the throne of thy kingdom
and to be extolled and highly exalted for ever.

Blessed art thou in the firmament of heaven
and to be sung and glorified for ever..."

fear and trembling

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom... (Ps 111.10)

Last night Heather sent me a piece she has been working on, an imaginative re-telling of the Abraham and Isaac story (her version is available here, as an RTF file). It's very good.

She's been reading Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling, an in-depth analysis of the Abraham and Isaac story. The title is a reference to Phil 2.12: "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling." And a couple days ago I noticed the phrase in this passage:

Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone forth from him, immediately turned about in the crowd, and said, "Who touched my garments?"

...The woman, knowing what had been done to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him, and told him the whole truth.

And he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease." (Mk 5.30, 33-34)

I think many who call themselves Christians lack that awe, that fear of God that is central to faith, that unavoidable human trembling when we recognize that we are in the presence of the Almighty, the living God. "For our God is a consuming fire." (Heb 12.29)

Two Sundays ago, in a reflection on the Abraham and Isaac story, a man shared with the rest of us his conclusion that the "God" who told Abraham to sacrifice his son could not have been God. The whole thing was interpreted as a temptation. Apparently this guy would have done much better than Abraham, because he wouldn't have been duped in the first place, he wouldn't have even left the house. As I listened, a bit of the consuming fire flared up in my own heart.

Is God our daddy, our friend, our comforter? Yes. But also Creator, Sovereign, Omnipotent, Holy. The Unapproachable--who approaches us. The God we can trust completely, because nothing is beyond his power or outside of his hand.

The God we fall down before and worship.

feels like home

I'm spending the day on the University of Michigan campus, where I went to college years ago. Michael is pastor at a church near here. And Kevin (my brother-in-law) works in the university architectual department. This morning I prayed and read in one of my favorite spots on campus, the reading room in the law library. I enjoy returning to places that have been home to me.

While I was in the library, I pulled out a card that Heather had given me just before I left. The last thing she wrote was "...and come home to me."

That made me think. What if home becomes less a matter of place and more a matter of person. Not a where, but a who. I certainly feel like I'll be coming home to Heather, though it will be in a place neither of us has lived before. And I can imagine anywhere feeling like home if she is there.

I wonder if children experience home in a similar way. Home is where mommy and daddy are.

And isn't that how it's supposed to be with us and God? Coming home is coming into the presence of God Who is Love. And if we are with God, everywhere is home.

writing day

Michael and Anne and the kids--Aaron, Katie, Adin, and Elise--arrived yesterday afternoon, surprised and happy to see me. But before they tumbled in I had time to work on another story, one I've been thinking about as I walked:

Self help

It was shortly after moving into his new apartment that he started hearing the voices.

He was so excited about having a place of his own that he didn't notice them at first. Then he became aware of something that sounded like a low hiss. He started looking around for a leak of some kind, dreading some hidden flaw in his new home. But he could find nothing.

Soon the sound was barely audible whispers. This made him suspect that he might be hearing his neighbors' conversations, but he couldn't make out any actual words. He crept to the wall and pressed his ear against it. But the sound didn't seem to be coming from there. He walked around the apartment, listening. The faint whispers were heard in every room, but always from somewhere behind him; when he would turn to follow the sound it would slip away. Then it was behind him again.

For a week he considered the possibility that his new apartment was haunted. Because he didn't hear any whispers when he was at the office, or even on the drive to work. This thought seemed ridiculous, but he had seen too many horror movies for it not to at least enter his head. He began to work longer hours, simply to avoid going home, though every night he convinced himself that wasn't the reason. And he even briefly considered moving out, despite his lease.

But soon he began to hear it on the way home from work. Then there were whispers when he was still at his desk, or in a meeting. And by this time, the voices at home were noticeably louder, like the murmuring of a restless crowd. Not only in the apartment, but also when he went running, or to the park to read. He began to worry about his mental health.

So he went to the bookstore, a large, plush store that had a coffee shop built right in. Shopping often comforted him. A new purchase was always so hopeful, even if it was just a toilet brush. As he walked through the rows of new books, shiny on the tall hardwood bookcases, he didn't hear any whispers. He found his way to the "Self Help" section. Perusing the titles, he picked two that looked interesting: Listening to Yourself, and Me, Myself, and I (Can't We All Just Get Along?). Then he noticed the classic, I'm OK, You're OK, and grabbed it, feeling optimistic. And as he left the store with his books and a cappuccino, there were still no restless murmurings. He smiled, thinking he may have just taken his first step towards recovery.

But by the time the books were on his shelf at home, the voices were back. Pursuing him. And reading the books was no help at all; he quit before he finished any of them.

It was then that he decided to see a psychiatrist. Making the appointment made him feel better; the sound of the receptionist's voice sounded so confident and professional. The psychiatrist was very professional too. After their first meeting she suggested that his problem may be caused by stress, and recommended that he try spending some more time with friends. So he threw a dinner party. It was catered and everyone admired his new place, and it did feel good to be the host. He remembered reading somewhere, "Who has but once dined his friends, has tasted what it is to be Caesar." But he woke the next morning with the guests gone and the table cleared and the voices buzzing at the back of his head like a hangover.

His psychiatrist prescribed medication. Taking the slip to the pharmacist was comforting, but he had to take the pills for three weeks before he could expect to see results. And then the only result was that the voices were louder, more menacing.

Thoughts of hauntings returned to him; he actually imagined that he might be possessed. In a moment of desperation he went looking for a priest. The church he found was impressively built and the priest was respectful, professional, nodding thoughtfully as he explained about the voices. "What do they say?" the priest asked.

"I can't always make out words, but sometimes it sounds like... 'Not enough.'" Not good enough to sell.

The priest considered that for a moment. "Do you think it could be your own voice you're hearing, maybe? In our culture we're conditioned to push ourselves..." No one is going to pay for this story. The priest recommended that he take a personal retreat. "I know this beautiful place not far from here. A good place to pray."

"Can't I pray at home?"

The priest smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Yes, of course. But it sounds like you need some quality spiritual time. The retreat center is a little expensive, but isn't it just as important to invest for our mental and spiritual health as it is for our physical health?" This is a waste of words. You should be writing something people want.

Ha! But I like the ending!



He saw the priest again two weeks later. "Ah, did you go? How was it?"

"Yes. It was... enlightening."

The priest grinned broadly. "Excellent. I thought it was just the thing you needed to relax and clear your head. Feeling better?"

He didn't know what to say. But then he heard his voice reply, "You're coming along fine, my good Reverend, but you still have a few things to learn."

The priest's smile faded and his brow darkened. "Such as?"

"Such as," his voice answered, "you cannot cast out Mammon with mammon."

dear pastor

Because of the ride Sunday night, I didn't get to visit that pastor who told me I couldn't stay at his church (because he couldn't supervise me). So I sent him this note yesterday:

Dear Pastor,

I wrote to you about a week ago, because I was walking through your town and had met Pastor Avers two years ago. As it turned out, I didn't need a place to sleep last night after all. A man offered me a ride before I got to your church (and I wasn't even asking for a ride). Now I am in Ann Arbor, MI, at a friend's house.

But I wanted to send you a note since I didn't get to talk to you in person. To let you know that I had good experiences at your church with Pastor Avers. I don't know how often he welcomed strangers, but he certainly welcomed me.

The first time I stopped there, asking if I could sleep outside the church (as I often do), he invited me to stay inside on one of the couches. And I recall he also offered me some gift certificates to a fast food restaurant, which were very much appreciated. Then, on my walk back from New York, I stopped at your church again. This time Pastor Avers offered to take me to a nearby motel and paid my bill there. I walked to the church the next morning for services. There I met and talked with several people about my journeys, and one woman offered to drive me to Woodville. As we were leaving, Pastor Avers offered me some money (though he said he doesn't usually do that) and his prayers.

I just thought he listened pretty well to Jesus' words, "I was a stranger and you welcomed me." (Mt 25.35) And also, "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." (Heb 13.2) I don't know if he preached about these things much, but he practiced them.

If you have an address for Pastor Avers, feel free to forward this to him with my thanks. But mostly I just wanted to share with you my previous experiences at your church.

peace,
Paul

surprise!

I was walking out of town yesterday evening, wondering about a place to sleep (and if I had enough money to make it through the week), when a car pulled over on the highway. And the guy offered me a ride. It was a four-lane divided highway, and I was walking on the far side, so he had had to turn around and come back to ask me this. "I know what it's like to be out there walking." He said he was going all the way to Toledo, to see the fireworks.

At first I balked. I didn't want to be dropped off in downtown Toledo so late in the day. And I hadn't looked that far ahead on the map, which meant I wouldn't know where I was or where I needed to go. So he said he could take me to the far side of Toledo. I thought for a minute.

What the heck.

So I suddenly went from 3 mph to 65 mph. The towns I had planned to walk through in the next few days flew past, and we talked. Don is in security and is also a volunteer fireman. I found out field fires can be a big problem around there. And I told him quite a bit about my life. It was dinner time, so he offered to buy me a burger, and as we talked and kept driving, he then offered to take me all the way to Ann Arbor. He said he had time to do that and still make it back for the fireworks.

I don't think Don is a Christian. But he was enthusiastic in his help. "You do something good for someone," he said, "and someone else does something good for you." I told him that was a good thing to believe. And I believe God backs it up.

We talked about many things: how Jesus taught his followers to act, having the courage to take a risk and trust others, and being willing to drop our plans and accept the opportunity that presents itself. That's crucial if we are to recognize what God is offering us:

Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and get gain"; whereas you do not know about tomorrow....

Instead you ought to say, "If the Lord wills..." (Jam 4.13-15)

But yesterday's adventure was not over when Don dropped me off in Ann Arbor. I'd assumed I could call Michael and have him pick me up. But no one was home. I didn't remember exactly how to get to his house, and I didn't have a detailed map of the city. So I stopped in the first gas station--and there on the wall was a big Ann Arbor map.

As I was walking to their house, the thought occured to me that they may be away for the holiday weekend. Maybe I could camp out in their back yard until they got back? But then I remembered, when I had written to tell Michael I'd be here next weekend, he had said if they're not home I could let myself in with their hidden emergency key. At the time, I'd thought that was a superfluous detail.

So I'm here with the cats. A week early. "Come now, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town...'"

a big church

Fremont, OH

This morning I stopped at a big church. I usually avoid big churches. But walking from Clyde, I arrived at this one just as services were starting, so I went in.

I was a little late for Sunday school, but because of the holiday weekend there were only three people in the men's group and they welcomed me eagerly. And we had a good discussion. About communicating love to your spouse; this week was about physical intimacy. It started slow, but when we turned to Song of Solomon I perked up. We talked about how the imagery of the sexual relationship says so much about the ideal of our relationship with God: desire, openness, vulnerability, trust, nakedness, acceptance, tenderness, abandon, fulfillment, adoration.

The worship music was good, but the preaching raised serious questions. It was on Colossians 2.8, about not being led astray by empty and deceitful philosophies. The pastor warned of the many "isms": moralism, legalism, ritualism, deism. But apparently overlooked patriotism. In honor of the 4th, the worship had begun with "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" (which was written, incidentally, during the Civil War, when our nation was fighting itself). The words were superimposed over the image of a waving U.S. flag:

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free;
[originally: let us die to make men free]
While God is marching on.

A strange juxtaposition, especially in a time when our nation is at war. Is this about evangelism, or war? Are we supposed to equate the death (or life) of soldiers with the death of Christ, who died with no weapon in his hand, crucified by soldiers? Or are we talking about making men free through faith, as Jesus did? But then what does the flag have to do with it?

It was followed by an emotional song about the pledge of allegiance (the loyalty that citizens owe to their country, or subjects to their sovereign). Not allegiance to God, but to the flag and "the republic, for which it stands."

What ever happened to "no one can serve two masters"?


One interesting thing the pastor mentioned was that many in Germany don't want to recognize Scientology as an official religion, because they see it as a money-making enterprise. Everyone in the audience nods approvingly. But look around. We sit in a huge auditorium, with stadium seating and plush theater seats, two giant video screens projecting images throughout the service. There's a coffee shop in the lobby (with another video screen there). And at the end of the service the pastor announces that, for their fall outreach event, a secular music star is coming... Randy Travis. The crowd oohs and aahs. "It will be expensive... to bring him in," the pastor informs us.

See, if done properly, Christianity can be quite a money-making enterprise too.