"May they rot in hell," I spat onto the cold tile of a hospital corridor as the social worker guided me to the exit. I had just turned from the slam of a heavy door as it shut out the terrified screams of a desperate four-year old. My foster son, a child who had in the past year clung to me, not with love, but with an animal instinct seeking survival, had degenerated into ungovernable behavior resulting in the need for intervention. His terror at being left alone in this strange, institutional place pulled from me a rage borne of love, a fierce primal force determined to protect, and resulted in words, the likes of which I had never uttered before, words that have caused me guilt in the intervening years. I wanted to hunt down and destroy the people responsible for so profoundly wounding this innocent child who, as the years progressed, I realized would never fully recover. How could I as a follower of the loving Christ even think this thought, let alone, say it aloud? Didn't Jesus command me to love my enemies?
This memory resurfaced as I listened to a sermon by Fr. Justin Howard (http://www.idachurch.com/sermons/2018/1/31/128-revealing-the-god-who-pursues) on our God being a jealous God, a God who would jealousy defend me, relentlessly pursue me, and violently rescue me. Thinking of the ferocity that I felt those many years ago for a child that was not yet my legal child, let alone a child of my own flesh, I begin to understand the desire and pursuit of God for me. Where else could these "Mama Bear" passions come from if not from the God who placed His image in me? If I could love so deeply and fight so passionately for my children, must not God be outrageously committed to me? Is the passion of God not seen even in the Christ who would unleash havoc in the Temple court of the Gentiles in response to religious leaders fouling the only part of the Temple that the nations could access? What else but his passionate, jealous love could bring him to the most violent act of history, the cross? So is there violent passion in the love of God? I think in some way, the answer has to be yes, not a violence that is retaliatory, vengeful, or political, but a "violent" passion that will do anything to love. This, too, is a mystery.
How I need to burrow into this, to let it seep deep inside me. If I indeed truly believe this, what fears could possibly overwhelm me? How could I not have utter confidence that all will be well, that my end is secure, that my life is deemed precious, even a treasure to the Divine One? Thanks be to God.
Sunday, March 18, 2018
Sunday morning lesson
I believe I had a word from the Lord this morning in church--a word set against the backdrop of two things: (1. ) Karen's admonition to go through our present discernment process with gratitude and open-mindedness; (2.) thinking about Jordan and my temptation to devalue his life because of his intense need and lack of productivity and reading yesterday about a book dealing with the value of spending time with the disabled (Becoming Friends of Time: Disability, Time-fullness, and Gentle Discipleship). This addresses deep-seated notions of intrinsic value and productivity that are too fully formed in me by society and culture and are antithetical to kingdom of God thinking.
While waiting for the church service to begin, I chatted with Nancy, an energetic retiree who is heavily involved in ministry at COTC. Our conversation primed the pump of my heart and mind to hear the Divine One point out an area of ingratitude in my life. As I am wont to do, I thought with disappointment about the lack of an intergenerational congregation at the historic campus, voiced this thought to Nancy, and asked her if volunteers from the historic campus ever interacted with those from the Cross Church campus (wondering if these two campuses ever acted as one). She replied that folks at CC didn't have the time to be involved in ministry like the older people do (with jobs, family concerns, etc.), so often did not cross paths with the historic campus volunteers in ministry endeavors, but the CC folks were recipients of the ministry of the older generation through avenues such as the Stephen Ministry. That seed worked its way into the soil of my heart as I sat through the service surrounded by septuagenarians and octogenarians. I realized that I held almost prejudicial thoughts deep down in the core of my soul for the elderly. Maybe I haven't met enough elderly people whose minds were still active and growing and who showed real concern for living out a vibrant faith. I also fail to remember that the end of this life isn't the end of learning and growing. The end of life stage is not a time of diminished value. Thus, when I wonder about the significance of Carl teaching church history to this bunch, I must remember that these saints, though they may not have many years and opportunities ahead to share what they are learning (that's "productivity"), are on a pilgrimage that will continue into eternity. Their desire to learn is evidence of their vitality of mind and full engagement with life. This is instructive to my soul.
I think, also, that being surrounded by the elderly is a poignant reminder of my own aging process, a process that I want to defy and forget. Today, as I looked at those heads, I confessed my dismissal of these people and thanked God for their presence and teaching in my life. This may not be my "ideal" church, brimming with young families, but it is the will of God for me in this moment. And it is a holy and precious place, filled with folks whose years have overflowed with joy and fruitfulness, as well as sorrow, bondage, and loss. They may use canes and battle illness and bereavement, but they have much to teach me. These people have not lost their value, even their usefulness, in God's economy. They remind me of the way of all flesh and the beauty and grace that is present in all stages of life. I confess the dread and fear that the aging process often elicits in me, and I claim the power and grace of God to continue growing into God and offering his love to those around me, whatever that may look like. I choose to have gratitude for these gifts and the solemn, yet joyful, lessons they give.
This may seem like a small thing, but I believe that God put a finger on a place in me that needs adjustment. I want to see the COTC and its elderly band of brothers and sisters through a different lens. No more should I lament the spiritual family that God has provided for this time in my life. I don't want to miss the truth and love that they have to give me. Thanks be to God.
While waiting for the church service to begin, I chatted with Nancy, an energetic retiree who is heavily involved in ministry at COTC. Our conversation primed the pump of my heart and mind to hear the Divine One point out an area of ingratitude in my life. As I am wont to do, I thought with disappointment about the lack of an intergenerational congregation at the historic campus, voiced this thought to Nancy, and asked her if volunteers from the historic campus ever interacted with those from the Cross Church campus (wondering if these two campuses ever acted as one). She replied that folks at CC didn't have the time to be involved in ministry like the older people do (with jobs, family concerns, etc.), so often did not cross paths with the historic campus volunteers in ministry endeavors, but the CC folks were recipients of the ministry of the older generation through avenues such as the Stephen Ministry. That seed worked its way into the soil of my heart as I sat through the service surrounded by septuagenarians and octogenarians. I realized that I held almost prejudicial thoughts deep down in the core of my soul for the elderly. Maybe I haven't met enough elderly people whose minds were still active and growing and who showed real concern for living out a vibrant faith. I also fail to remember that the end of this life isn't the end of learning and growing. The end of life stage is not a time of diminished value. Thus, when I wonder about the significance of Carl teaching church history to this bunch, I must remember that these saints, though they may not have many years and opportunities ahead to share what they are learning (that's "productivity"), are on a pilgrimage that will continue into eternity. Their desire to learn is evidence of their vitality of mind and full engagement with life. This is instructive to my soul.
I think, also, that being surrounded by the elderly is a poignant reminder of my own aging process, a process that I want to defy and forget. Today, as I looked at those heads, I confessed my dismissal of these people and thanked God for their presence and teaching in my life. This may not be my "ideal" church, brimming with young families, but it is the will of God for me in this moment. And it is a holy and precious place, filled with folks whose years have overflowed with joy and fruitfulness, as well as sorrow, bondage, and loss. They may use canes and battle illness and bereavement, but they have much to teach me. These people have not lost their value, even their usefulness, in God's economy. They remind me of the way of all flesh and the beauty and grace that is present in all stages of life. I confess the dread and fear that the aging process often elicits in me, and I claim the power and grace of God to continue growing into God and offering his love to those around me, whatever that may look like. I choose to have gratitude for these gifts and the solemn, yet joyful, lessons they give.
This may seem like a small thing, but I believe that God put a finger on a place in me that needs adjustment. I want to see the COTC and its elderly band of brothers and sisters through a different lens. No more should I lament the spiritual family that God has provided for this time in my life. I don't want to miss the truth and love that they have to give me. Thanks be to God.
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