"I don't really believe in great things"

Let not those who hope in you be put to shame through me, O Lord God of hosts;
let not those who seek you be brought to dishonor through me, O God of Israel.

For it is for your sake that I have borne reproach,
that shame has covered my face.
I have become a stranger to my brethren,
an alien to my mother's sons.
For zeal for your house has consumed me,
and the insults of those who insult you have fallen on me. (Ps 69.6-9)

These lines caught my eye this morning. It made me think of something I was just reading in a Christian magazine, two interesting pieces concerning a popular young Christian speaker, author, and activist. A former "evangelical" who switched to a social justice emphasis (a pretty popular move to make these days, partially due to this guy's media exposure). The first piece was critical of one of the largest Christian publishing companies, saying they've turned the gospel into a source of huge profits. Which is a pretty good point. But the writer was a bit conflicted, because he had also just written an endorsement for a new book (by the popular young speaker/author/activist) published by that very same publishing company.

The second piece was by the young speaker/author/activist himself, describing a scene at one of his public appearances. Speaking to a crowd of 10,000 young people, he lamented "the sad irony of us speakers getting paid big bucks to preach a Gospel that says give all your money to the poor." So he asked for the $4000 honorarium in one dollar bills, and offered them to the crowd, telling them to take a dollar to mark their commitment to spend time with someone in need and get to know them. Which is a pretty good idea. He told them, "I could try to do great things with the money, but I don't really believe in great things—I believe in small things done with great love." Not a bad message.

But these two uncomfortable, conflicted situations make me wonder. Especially when contrasted with the lines of that psalm, or the life of Jesus. Did Jesus ever face anything like the pressure to endorse a profitable religious institution, or struggle to figure out what to do with the large speaking fees he was earning?

The only time I recall Jesus being invited to speak at an official religious event, he offended the audience so badly they tried to throw him off a cliff. Usually he just preached on hillsides or along a shore. There was a time when popular support for Jesus was strong enough that the people hoped to make him king, but Jesus carefully avoided that—and the next day he preached such a challenging sermon that many of his followers left him. In the end (as in the psalm), the popular opinion was that Jesus should be done away with.

The message about doing small things with great love is a good one. But if it's love we're interested in, love like Jesus' love, then there's no need for big organizations to draw crowds or big corporations to advertise our message and print thousands of copies. Jesus had no need for the wealth and power of men. They could offer little to further his message of complete dependence on the one God—they actually worked against it. For Jesus' love there was a different way.

"set me as a seal upon your heart"

We announced our engagement in church yesterday morning, then talked about the wedding in the afternoon. Heather liked the scriptures I had chosen (here and here). But she wanted to add this to the Song of Songs reading:

Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. (Song 8.6-7)

I really like that. She also suggested that I read the first Song passage during the wedding, and she read this one. We may read Psalm 34 together, too:

O magnify the LORD with me, and let us exalt his name together!

"as mile by mile is seen"

I put this image together a year ago, combining a picture of us at one of Heather's favorite places in France and a poem Heather gave me almost three years ago. The words are even more true for us now.

the way ahead

I wrote yesterday that Heather and I have been invited to move to Plow Creek farm this summer. And that's what we plan to do. But there isn't space available at the farm to start retreat work right away, and not much for us to do there in the winter. Which leads to the other big development...

Late last year, months before our initial visit to Plow Creek, I got the impression that we wouldn't be able to start work there right away (if at all), and that scared me at the time—we didn't have an alternative plan. A month before our visit, this feeling reached its lowest point. I was begging for a miracle (and at the same time remembering pilgrimage again). Then, two weeks later, several things suddenly came together in my mind. I remembered an article I had seen earlier, about a spiritual ministry to the poor in Boston, which had inspired similar ministries in other cities. And the Ignatian Spirituality Project also had retreat work starting in other cities. I thought visiting some of those ministries might help us gain experience and ideas and connections with people. If only there was a way for us to travel inexpensively...

Like walking. We had been eager to go walking together before, more than two years previously, but (with the encouragement of Heather's parents) decided to wait until after we were married. Now, I thought, we could go. We could visit those ministries, gain experience, make good connections, and spread the word about the work we were starting at Plow Creek. And walking, being poor and homeless ourselves (for a spiritual purpose), would fit so well with the message we were sharing, the work we were promoting. I was already very experienced in this kind of walking. And I even had experience walking with a partner, from the previous summer. It all seemed to fit so perfectly. It felt like a beautiful, perfect gift from God, and my heart leapt at it.

And when I brought it to Heather, she happily agreed (and had a few ideas of other places she'd like to visit). We both really liked the thought of being out on the road together.

So the tentative plan is to move to Plow Creek in April, to help with farm work, get married there in May, and stay through June. Then in July start walking. Probably from Boston going south, working our way down to Atlanta, then into Florida for the winter. Maybe go back to the farm in the spring.

Pretty exciting. We're so grateful to God for opening this way ahead for us. It's so much more than we could have even thought to ask, we're awed.

I love Heather Munn

Je l'aime à la folie!

Yesterday, a month after Heather returned from a seven month trip to Nigeria, two weeks after our visit to Plow Creek to propose opening a retreat house for the poor there, and one week after they warmly embraced the idea and invited us to move there this summer... Heather asked me to marry her.

It was so easy to say yes. I'd been deeply in love with her for years already. But I had been concerned about how a family might be provided for, whether I could feel good about inviting a wife and children into the life of faith and risk that I had entered, following Jesus. I felt like I needed to wait for explicit permission from God, a concrete sign that he was making a way for us. The astonishingly warm welcome from Plow Creek seemed to be that sign. So we step forward together with great confidence in our Father, and great joy.

This morning, I came upon these words at the beginning of Matthew 22:

Again Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying, "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a marriage feast for his son..."

give me jesus

In the morning, when I rise,
In the morning, when I rise,
In the morning, when I rise,
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus,
You can have all this world,
Give me Jesus.

For Black history month, the church here is using lots of good spirituals during worship. We sang this one on Sunday. That last line is especially good, "You can have all this world, give me Jesus."

It reminded me of some conversations I had recently. Some friends here are impressed by the "new monasticism" movement, and are wondering how to respond to the challenges these young people offer. I replied that I thought their challenges were a mixed bag. Some seem valid and some questionable. And I said we find much more powerful challenges (in the same areas of concern) when we look to Jesus himself—shouldn't Jesus be the one we're responding to? I raised a similar question in a new monasticism forum discussion over a year ago, wondering at their choice of monasticism for a model:

I think we lose something if we copy a copy. There is no second-hand Christianity, as Kierkegaard said. The monastics tried to follow Jesus and in some ways they are helpful to us and in some ways are unhelpful...

...why not use Jesus' life (and his community) as the model we're striving for?

And I thought the same thing Sunday, hearing about the spiritual example of the slaves and the witness of their spirituals. There is a lot there that reflects Jesus' endurance in suffering and hope in God. But there are also aspects of Jesus' witness that seem to be missing, like his announcement of the kingdom of God present, and his demonstration of utter freedom despite the oppressive forces bearing down on him. Like in any human Christian disciple, we see something of Jesus and something missing. Which should direct our attention past the disciple and towards the one they follow.

There's definitely value in paying attention to the Christians who have gone before us. But they are not the best source of guidance or hope, Jesus is. "You can have all this world, give me Jesus."

"in the city"

Destroy their plans, O Lord, confuse their tongues;
for I see violence and strife in the city.
Day and night they go around it on its walls;
and mischief and trouble are within it,
ruin is in its midst;
oppression and fraud do not depart from its market place. (Ps 55.9-11)

Reading these words this morning reminded me of Jacques Ellul's The Meaning of the City. A very thorough look at the biblical symbolism and teaching about "the city." It offers a strong challenge against our gravitation towards and attachment to the cities we build.

That's Ellul's main point (and a very important one): That cities are the work of our hands, centers of human power, that we depend on for our provision and protection. Instead of God.

The story starts in the early chapters of Genesis. The first mention of a city is in Gen 4.17—right after Cain's banishment by God, we are told that he built a city and named it after his son. And the Hebrew word used there (translated "city") tells of the fear and self-reliance that inspired its construction. It means "a place of waking, guarded." And the other connotations of the word—excitement, anguish, terror—provide an even clearer image.

A few chapters later, "the city" appears again. Babel. The psalmist I quoted seems to refer to this part of the story when he prays, "Destroy their plans, O Lord, confuse their tongues." God scattered the people at Babel because their faith was in their collective strength; gathered into a mighty city, they believed they would be secure and be respected. Their trust was in "We, the People."

And this is still the lure of the city. The places we built, promising opportunity and refuge. All around the world, people (especially the poor) feel ever greater pressure to abandon fields and crops and seek their livelihood in the concrete cities. But instead of livelihood, they find violence and strife, oppression and fraud. When we trust in human power, we soon experience what it means to be enslaved by that power. So, as at Babel, it is a mercy of God whenever that power is broken, when the compromising alliances of men are confused and the bricks of their mighty institutions are scattered.

And it is a mercy of God that he has opened a way for Heather and me (and for any children who might join us along the way) to live out beyond the oppressive cloud of the city. There our prayer will be the closing words of Psalm 55:

"I will trust in thee."

we'll be guests as well

In my reading this morning there was another passage that has been very important to me:

Jesus called them to him and said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them.

"It shall not be so among you; but whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave; even as the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Mt 20.25-28)

Like I wrote yesterday, this has been easier to follow while I've been single. But what about now, as we're considering starting a ministry, inviting guests, having to answer for our use of the property and the behavior of our guests?

That could lead into the exercise of authority that Jesus warned against. I'm hoping that we'll be able to keep it firmly in mind that we are guests there as well. That the house and land and food are not ours (literally), but gifts from others to be passed on to those who need them. That we can appeal to our guests to treat these gifts with respect (and the people hosting us with love), and then be willing to personally take the consequences if our guests aren't respectful. Rather than trying to rule over them (which is probably what they're used to), to serve and sacrifice for those who come in need.