Buy local

I had friends in Montreal who came to our church.  They were on a quest.  They understood their lives were incomplete and wanted to find something more.  One day at their home we were talking and they asked about spiritual and religious traditions other than Christianity because they had the impression that there seemed to be more spiritual experience in those traditions.  My response was that there is and has always been a deep mystical thread in Christian faith.  “Then why does not one ever talk about it?” they asked.  Why indeed.

Christianity, popularly understood, is about morality (and judging others who don’t live up) and about trying harder to be good people – more loving, less angry, more concerned about the poor, less selfish.  All good things to be sure.  But where is the actual spiritual part?  I can be an atheist and try harder to be a good person, more loving, less angry, etc., etc.

Jesus died to bring us into relationship with God.  And by relationship I mean mystical union.  That’s the spiritual part. How did Jesus say it in his prayer to the Father? – “I in them and you in me.” (John 17:23)  God in Jesus and Jesus in us.  That is the union - God, who is Spirit, in us.  That’s big spirituality.  Infinite, in fact.  Through the work of Christ on the cross, we are ushered into a mystical unity with God himself.  That is the point.  And if God dwells within us, if we will permit him, we cannot help but become better people – holy people, to be more accurate.

Why should we as Christians need to turn to other spiritualities to find what we are looking for?  Why do we seek for spiritual peace in yoga when the mystical union with God in Christ is our inheritance?  God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, is in us, one with us.  That is a mystical reality and a mystical experience.  We shop elsewhere thinking that we can only find spiritual experience in other places.  What do I say Christians looking for this?  Buy local.

This hymn, whose words date back to at least the 16^th century and possibly earlier talk about this sense of God in us.  And it is not intended as a metaphor but a reality – God in us.

God be in my head

And in my understanding

God be in mine eyes

And in my looking

God be in mouth

And in my speaking

God be in my heart

And in my thinking

God be at mine end

And at my departing.

One size does not fit all

I was out last evening looking for recently and suddenly required field hockey goggles for my daughter.  Since the school requirement was both recent and sudden, they are as scare as hen’s teeth in shops locally.  And where you can find a hen’s tooth, you will discover that it is costly to acquire.  And most of the models we found claimed that one size fits all.  I realize the claim comes because these can be adjusted easily but I am always wary of the one size feature.  In the case of t-shirts it just means the garment can double as a tent.

I think we also adapt this one size thinking to our proclamation of the Gospel.  The same message for all people in all circumstances.  But I am not sure that is effective.  I approach this from the perspective of pastoral care.  There are some occasions when a clear call to repentance is the right thing.  But not always.  There are some contexts in which a person is so crippled by self-recrimination and shame that a further call to repentance simply heaps additional burdens upon an already staggering pile. Sometimes the message of God’s love in Jesus Christ needs to be prior.  For some the news that repentance is needed is not a stunning revelation.  But that Jesus loves me is.

It makes me think about the consistent nature and character of God and how he reveals himself to us in different ways.  It is not always the same way.  I have had many circumstances in my life where God’s word to me was a stern one, leading me to contrition and repentance.  But not always.  God knows that one size does not fit all.  Indeed one size does not always even fit a given individual.  He comes among us at times sternly, but also at times deeply tenderly – in authority and in tenderness, in holiness and in compassion.

Does this mean that God is changeable?  No.  But he is Person and not a thing.  And we are changeable.  That which we need to hear from the mouth of God differs depending on the circumstances.  Jesus is the one who says, “you brood of vipers!” and “come to me all who are heavy laden and I will give you rest.”  He even says to the same person at different times, “Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah” and “Get thee behind me, Satan.”  Indeed, one size does not fit all.

These thoughts were moved, in part, by a very tender movement of God in our midst in church on Sunday morning.  There was a peace very palpably present which was, I think, from Jesus.  I am often looking for his exhortation to move me and us forward.  But again, one size does not fit all.   The tender love of God fit very nicely this week.

Unguarded

Some years ago when I was working for an IT company in the field of medical informatics, I was doing a system installation at a hospital in San Antonio.  Our company had contracted a third party for some of the work and there was a representative of that third party on site with me.  This rep was a man of little discretion.  Within an hour or so of meeting him and working together on servers in a datacenter, I had heard what seems to have been his full medical history and within 24 hours he shared with me the clown tattoo he has on his left pec.  I neither required nor desired any of this information.  He was ridiculously unguarded in what he shared with near strangers, to the point of being socially and professionally awkward.

We usually learn to be more guarded in our conversations, sharing some things freely, but retaining others for our more intimate circle.  This is natural and, I think, normal.  Our problems begin when we live in the extremes, either stretching the neck of our undershirt low enough to reveal our tattoo (it really happened) or being guarded in all circumstances.

It is this second error, being guarded in all circumstances, that intrigues me, perhaps because it is that to which I am more prone.  Guardedness is an isolating habit. And there are times and places where it is simply not needed.  Last week I was talking to a couple of very good friends at my kitchen table, telling them a little about my sister-in-law’s funeral a week or so ago.  In the midst of the conversation I felt the tightening in my throat and the sting of heat in my eyes – which I quickly mastered, because I am guarded.  But where, I ask, is it safer, or more appropriate, to show one’s heart than in the presence of good friends.

The problem with being guarded all the time is that you start being incapable of being unguarded when you should.

Trust in him at all times, O people;

Pour out your heart before him;

God is a refuge for us.   - Psalm 62:8

The psalmist urges us to pour out our heart before God, to trust in him, because he is our refuge.  But how can we pour out our heart if, due to the habit of guardedness, we no longer know our own heart.  In our heart we hold our griefs and sorrows, but also our dreams, hopes and aspirations.  Being too reticent in communicating these things to others, can leave us impaired in our ability to yield them even to God.

And the picture or phrase is vivid – a pour out, an emptying of the contents of our heart before God.  It is a bold thing to do -  extravagant, even.  When is the last time you emptied your heart before God?  Or were frank with him about your disappointments or even about your real hopes and dreams?

We must know our heart, before we can pour it out before God.  C.S. Lewis says something like this in his novel, Till We Have Faces: “How can they (the gods) see us face to face till we have faces?”

The problem of being unguarded in all circumstances is obvious to most; the infirmity of being guarded in all, less so.  Dare to dream, to hope, to laugh, to cry before God.  Pour out your heart to him – he is a refuge for us.

Are you OK?

We had a death in the family this past week.  My wife’s sister, Heather, finally succumbed to a long and inspirational fight with cancer a week ago Sunday.  She lived and died well and was an example of joy and faith in all circumstances.

We have experienced a lot of deaths in the family in the past 5 or 6 years, to the point that one might characterize us as professional mourners.  Well, if not professional, at least seasoned amateurs.

While I would prefer not to be in this position, it has afforded us as a family to reflect on the experience of grief.  I was talking to one of my daughters last week in the days between Heather’s death and the funeral and she said, “Why do people keep asking me if I’m OK?  What a stupid question!”  Caring and well-meant, but stupid.   Just for the record, in the short term, the answer is “no.” 

But I too, have been in the position of encountering someone who is in the midst of grief (as a pastor the situation has occurred once or twice).  I know the desire to say something helpful or show concern to a mourning family.  I also know the awkwardness of not knowing what to say and living in uncomfortable silence.  But being the grieving party itself on more than one occasion I have some insight from the other side.

I am pretty convinced that everyone needs to tell the story of what happened around the death.  I remember when I was about 14, the father of a friend of mine died suddenly of a heart attack.  At 14 I hadn’t the vaguest clue what to say or to do but I remembered that he wanted to tell me the story – what had happened to his dad.  I had already heard the essence since we grew up in a small village.  But he still wanted to tell the story.

It is a risk to ask, “Can you tell me how it happened?” because some people will not be ready yet to do that.  It is also an intimate and private story and hard to tell, especially in the case of traumatic death.  But with trusted friends and family, I think it a question worth asking.

The value of giving people opportunity to tell the story is that our story about the death bleeds over into stories or at least remembrances about the life.  And both of those things are good for us who grieve.

Back to the question: and also for the record, in the long term, the answer is actually “yes.”