Cost: Trayvon

I wrote this for the blog I maintain for the church I serve... cherokeechristianchurch.blogspot.com... but thought I'd share it here too.....we all need a little prayer and a little hope and little Divine today.  May this Sunday morning, be wrought with blessings...

When a child dies at the hands of another...especially at the hands of violence...it costs us. 

Sure, it costs money and air time and news space and all those bits of "cost" that actually, somehow, manage to benefit someone else...someone other than the one who has died (namely, lawyers and networks)...

But it costs us...as human beings...who have been knit so intricately together, by the Divine strand of creation...it costs us our spirits.  It costs us that little glimmer inside that says "God is bigger than this" and we start to ache in ways that are insatiable.  We start to glance at others with a shroud of suspicion.  We start to believe that humanity is just as "bad" as we've been led to believe.  We start to pray a little less.  Shout alleluia a little less.  Fall on our knees a little less.

And God weeps.  God weeps for Trayvon and all the children who have known a violent death at the hands of another.  God weeps for his mother and all the mothers who grieve for children who were snatched from their embrace sooner than they could have in a million years, dreamed.  God weeps for those who take another life and snuff it out, as if their hands did not possess the Divine thread.  God weeps for those who seek "justice" in ways that beget violence.  God weeps when we turn our heads from that which startles us or makes us uncomfortable...or when we ignore the violence that we have a hand in perpetrating.  God weeps when we lose heart...when our souls fail to sing...when our eyes dry with apathy.  God weeps...

Yes.  God weeps this day. 

But let that be enough.  Let the Divine Tears take our jadedness and our exhaustion and our grief and our fear and our apathy...so that we might rise above it and be who we have been called and ordained to be.  That is...let us be and act and react as those who are knit together by the Divine...created and sustained by the Divine...called GOOD by the Divine...and sent out by the Divine.  Let us be those who are life-giving and not death-dealing...justice oriented and not ego oriented.  Let us act in ways that require great feats of love, rather than disdain or apathy or listlessness.  Let us react in ways that are grace filled and not retaliation minded. 

Let us, dear Lord, be the people of God...

Thanks be to God...

rt

FYI: A New Blog

I'm managing a new blog these days...for the church.  There will be a few of my musings, as well as, denominational information and updates, for those of you who are into that sort of thing....

If you're interested in popping over there, you can find it at: cherokeechristianchurch.blogspot.com.

Body: Act and React

About a month ago, a 20 year old in our congregation died.  He was remotely connected...grew up in the church...but as most young adults do (heck, as most older adults do), he found his respite and wholeness in places outside of the church.  But still.  It took the breath out of me. 

It made my body ache for the mother and the father, nodding and smiling, eyes glazed, as 100's and 100's of kids...kids...filed by, to pay their respects at the funeral home.  It made my teeth hurt, to watch this young mans little sister - eight years old - play with her "funeral toys," seemingly unfazed by her surroundings. And my heart ached for the grandmother and grandfather who sat in the pew, just in front of the pulpit, that very next Sunday.

Grief is a full experience.  There are stages.  Sure.  But when grief hits you...it hurts everywhere.  And there are no "stages."  It just hurts.

Unfortunately, as image after image of Boston and Iran and Pakistan and North Korea and South Korea and West and Iraq is flashed before our eyes, we forget to feel.  We forget to feel the sting of death in ways that propel us to be and act and react differently in the world.  And we shut down.  We let congress handle it, with their bombs and their politicized statements of regret.  We let the news media tell us what is sad (a 20 year old, Boston, West) and what is not sad (Iraq, North Korea).  We let our ministers and our priests pray for us because somewhere in the back of our minds, we assume God must be behind this, and that gives us pause.  We let the anonymity of Facebook and Twitter teach us what we should believe, if we love Jesus... or are good Americans... or support our troops... or love babies and puppies.  We let those around us "tsk" and say "what a shame" in hushed tones, because words escape even the most talkative. 

We shut down. 

It's too much.  The body aches.  The mind short circuits.  The soul weeps. 

Here me say: This is normal.  Let it happen.  Really.  I know it's hard.  But really, let it happen.  And then...be changed by it, be propelled by the pain, act and react differently today.

Give blood. Practice patience. Really listen to another. Extend a hand, when it would be easier to walk away. Love deeply and tell someone the reasons why. Live peace. Recycle.  Dance with a child.  Pray even when you're not sure how to believe.

And let your body ache.  Feel.

Then maybe, we'll begin to see the world differently. 

Running: Boston

I ran for two minutes today.  Not because I needed the exercise (even though I do), or because it's part of my routine (even though it should be), or because I'm super fit (even though the "two minute" proclamation assumes great fitness *sarcasm*)...but because for me, it hurts.

I am not a runner.  I've never been a runner...even when I was super fit and super skinny...my body just doesn't like to function at speeds greater than 3 miles per hour. 

But I've been and am, passionate about certain things.  Like the church (though it infuriates me).  And ice cream (even though it's the reason I should be running).  And photography (even though I don't have the proper tools).  I love to travel (even though we don't get to do much of it).  And I love animals (even though the one laying on my foot right now, is snoring so loud I can't concentrate).

And so I get it.  A little.

I get what it means to love something so much, that you're willing to wake up at 4:00 in the morning to participate...to put your money into your gear, rather than your house or your car or your stuff.  I get what it means to find joy beyond description when you've gone a little farther or done something a little different, one day.  And I understand what it means to set goals and enter contests that you know you'll never win.  I know what it's like to call strangers "friends" simply because your hearts beat for the same passion.  I get it.

And that's why our hearts ache for those in Boston today.  And will, for some time.  As those who found their passion on the streets, urged their limbs to do the unimaginable, matching each breath with the pounding of rubber on concrete...now find themselves wracked with new fear and find themselves with limbs that don't work the way they used to and find themselves clinging for breath, period. 

And so today, I ran for two minutes.  Not because I should (even though it's probably a good idea). Or because I love it (because I really don't). 

But because today, there are those who can't.

Church: Intentionality

One thing most faith communities struggle with, is intentionality.

It wasn’t too long ago… maybe 50-60 years…that the intention of the mainline Protestant church was to provide community. So folks would get together for worship, bridge club, youth group, and CWF to find their community. Their best friend sat in the pew next to them and their children played together.

Then, in the 80’s, as those children grew up and the “best friends” grew older, the churches intention was to make us “better people.” The self-help industry had taken off and churches claimed “making us feel good” as their primary task. So preachers taught studies titled “10 Steps Through Jesus, to a Bigger Bank Account” (I’m not making that up) and The Purpose Driven-ish Everything.

By the early 2000’s, as church membership began its exponential slide, the intention became membership retention. Panic sort of set in as churches were left with oversized recreation centers and office complexes. We started battening down the hatches and stopped sharing our resources and the intention became self-preservation.

And now it’s 2013 and churches EVERYWHERE are wondering what their intention is? How do we answer the “why church” question?

We’ve noticed that “self-perseveration” isn’t working. And we know that the church isn’t about us, as individuals (we only have to read the Bible in a cursory way, to get that much) and making sure we “feel good” (though a by-product of our faith and participation in community, often makes us feel good…it’s not the objective). And it doesn’t take much to notice that we’re finding our community on the soccer field sidelines, the book club, and our business networks.

So what is our intention?

I don’t know the answer to the question. I don’t. I mean of course, I have some thoughts on the matter…but the “why church?” question, HAS to be answered by the people of God, the community that has gathered and called this place or that place, church.

The church is changing.  That much is sure.  But even the most seasoned...and the most youthful...pastors and leaders, don't have a clue what that looks like.  So maybe it's time to define our intention.  A new intention.  A God intention.  Then maybe the rest will fall into place.

Because as beautiful as this is...

It can't be ALL there is.