practice resurrection

the Story of Confirmation

Here's how it goes...

Some 2000 years ago, a gifted Jewish teacher and healer named Jesus was killed by political and religious leaders.  He had made a claim to be the Jewish Messiah, a promised leader who would set the Israelites free from personal sin and political oppression.  Before his death, he told his closest followers to wait for a gift that he would send them much later.  Three days after his death he rose mysteriously from death and ascended to God.  

They waited.

50 days later it arrived--the gift of the Holy Spirit.  It sounded like wind, it looked like fire.  It gave them ability to think and speak in ways that brought clarity to people about their lives in relationship to God.  Followers of Jesus began to develop small communities of people who shared resources and cared for the hurting.  It was remarkable.

A pattern began to develop in Christian circles regarding this gift of Spirit--a person would develop a belief in the saving power of the resurrected Jesus and then, later, leaders who had received the Holy Spirit before them, would lay their hands on their head and pray they would receive it.  They would then be empowered to do God's work.

And so it goes.  

Last Sunday a group of folks at Emmanuel Episcopal became a part of this story.  37 people took time to consider the teachings of Jesus and the meaning of the Baptism that happened to them as children.  Then they waited.  Our Bishop, Ed, coming as one who had been consecrated in a long line of Bishops all the way back to those early believers, laid his hands on our folks and prayed they would receive the Holy Spirit.

So, did they receive the Spirit?

One of the men being confirmed joked, "I was worried I was going to burst into flames!"  A young teenage girl remarked during our study leading up to Confirmation that it was unlikely that we received this "special dose" of the Holy Spirit when Bishop Ed came, that we already had access to all the Holy Spirit we needed.  Fair enough.

Me?  I'm still a dreamer, hoping against hope that when we gathered Sunday for these people to receive a gift that they indeed received God's Spirit to invigorate their work for God.  We all need help in such things.  Help, well, it helps.  

All those confirmed, from ages twelve to sixty-three, will need every last bit of Spirit that God is willing to give.  By gathering around that Bishop we were all demonstrating a mustard seed of faith.  And Jesus said it only takes a small bit to move mountains.  

Who knows when.  Maybe now, maybe the day after tomorrow, maybe in moments strung out all along the journey, but at some point along the way these folks will need power to love, forgive, redeem, inspire, heal, and show the smallest of kindnesses.  That stuff doesn't come easily in our world.  It never has.  It often requires a special something from somewhere outside of ourselves to carry it out.

And we will, with God's help.

Looking Toward All Saints Day

John 11:32-44

When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."  When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.  He said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see."

Jesus began to weep.

So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!"  But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?"  Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it.  Jesus said, "Take away the stone." 

Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days."  Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?"

So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, "Father, I thank you for having heard me.  I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me."

When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus come out!"

The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him and let him go."

Prayer that Never Ends

(as first published in "The Minister's Corner" October 10 edition of the Shawnee News-Star, OK.)

Saint Paul wrote a curious thing about prayer. He said we ought to pray without ceasing. I’ve heard different thoughts about what such a peculiar phrase might mean. Was the Apostle exaggerating? Was he talking about keeping a constant awareness of God’s presence in such a way that even our thoughts can be considered like prayers?

Each of our traditions approach prayer differently. The Episcopal tradition uses written prayers and I know quite a few people who think such a thing absurd. “It doesn’t have any spontaneity!” they say. “How can you pray the words that someone else has written? Don’t you want to pray from your heart?”

Fair enough. I admit that it is easy to read through a prayer without considering its meaning. But I also have heard many spontaneous prayers that were essentially a series of memorized phrases, every single one of them true, but spoken without much thought. And there have been times I’ve sat and listened to someone pray and wondered silently to myself, “Is this person praying to God, or preaching to me?” I suspect in those instances it may be a little bit of both.

Again, to be fair, praying out loud is a terrifying proposition. Consider that pubic speaking typically registers as most folk’s greatest fear. Add to that the weight of talking to the Creator of the Universe, and you’ve got yourself a real conundrum! If this is easy for you, then maybe you’re not doing it in the right frame of mind.

Taking God seriously ought to make us a little apprehensive. The scriptures say that the beginning of wisdom is the fear of the Lord. So when praying in public on behalf of others, you might give some thought to what you’re going to say.

As I’ve grown older I’ve found that my private prayer life opens up when I get outside and go for a walk. Speaking out loud to God helps as well (I try to take my dog with me so people will think I’m talking to him and not muttering to myself, right?). But it helps to be out in God’s creation, to feel the breeze that so often describes the Spirit of God, to look upon the heavens, to understand that I am not the center of the Universe.

The real question isn’t whose way of praying is more correct than the other, it is rather, “Will you open yourself to God?” Share yourself with him--your worries, your hurts, your failures--and His Spirit will make a home in your mind, and you might discover that your prayers take on an endless quality.

What's a Guy Gotta Do to Get Saved?

A few years ago I met weekly with a group of men for what most might consider an unusual Bible Study. We didn’t follow a curriculum that presented a central lesson, which you were to take with you after it was over. This was simpler. We read the scripture and responded to it, usually a chapter or two at a time. Read and respond.

Now there were a couple of us who did some background reading for some of the more difficult things we might come across. But for the most part this was an attempt to simply read these ancient texts and react to them, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and see how we might be affected.

We read all over the Bible, from the ancient law of Leviticus, to the Gospels, and Revelation. So you can imagine that it might bring up a wide range of topics to discuss. But a curious pattern began to emerge. No matter the subject of the scripture we were reading, our reactions seem to turn again and again to a common theme; what must I do to be saved?

Though most folks don’t know it, there are a variety of ways to understand the concept of being saved (or “atonement” to use the fancy church word). The one most folks around our parts know is called Penal Substitution, the idea that Jesus served as a substitute in paying for the sins of humanity. It suggests that you and I ought to pay for our own mistakes, but out of Jesus’ love for us, he took that punishment in our stead.

But there are other ways of understanding this difficult concept, and they are worth looking into: The Ransom Theory, Moral Influence Theory, Christ the Victor. Do an Internet search on these ideas and I think you’ll be surprised at the nuance they bring. In fact, the understanding of salvation that was most prominent in the early years of the Christian church was the Ransom Theory, not the one we are more familiar with today.,

Most of the folks in that little reading group were from a Baptist background (can you throw a rock in Oklahoma and not graze a Baptist Church?), and that tradition teaches that once you are saved, that God will hold onto you for eternity. There is nothing you can do jeopardize the kindness of God. So it was a curiosity to me that we kept returning to that question over and over again.

Maybe it is because we are so in touch with our own frailty that we can’t help but wonder what it truly takes to be made whole again. The mystery of God’s kindness eludes us, even as we place our entire hope in it. May you never stop asking the question, “What must I do to be saved?” even as you come to know the radical love that God had for you on that cross.

Small Talk in Big Rooms, Big Talk in Small Rooms

Friday night Karen and I went to the Upper Classmen Variety Show at her University.  Our little Noah had a bit-part in the beginning, so we took our seats among the other 500 people in the auditorium with all the subsequent standing around in small circles chatting under the loud pre-music show.  I love people, but I dread huge crowds.  Small talk is hard enough, but swimming around in it shouting niceties at the top of your lungs is interminable.  

Saturday morning I went to my first gathering of "the priest-wanna-bes" at the Diocesan office in Oklahoma City.  It was a "first impression" sort of gathering, though we actually ended up not having much of a chance to say anything stupid since the majority of the five hours were spent listening.  Our purpose as aspirants will be as much the Church talking us through what we are getting into as it will be us talking through why we feel called to such work.

Dean Back from St Paul's Cathedral did an introduction to cultivating a spiritual approach to living and Father Shackelford (my rector) introduced us (in a blistering fifty-five minutes, I might add) to the history of language, the development of the Hebrew and Christian Canons and a general overview of Biblical criticism and interpretation.  When we finished, I was tasked by our Altar Guildress, Melodie, to search downtown Oklahoma City for kosher cookies for our yearly "Meet the Rabbi" exchange with the Jewish Center in Seminole the following day.  I couldn't find any Kosher cookies.

Sunday mornings I typically attend both the early Rite I Mass, which I have come to cherish for the moments of stillness, as well as the Rite II worship, which more often has me running around making sure all the players are in their spots.  There was Youth Sunday School betwixt them, then our Jewish exchange after lunch, then I set up the Nave for a folk music concert by Marty Peercy on Sunday night.  Marty is a friend of the Parish and a bar tender at Knuckle's Pub in Shawnee.  He is getting married and moving to Portland.  It turns out our Nave is a wonderful space for acoustic music.  You can listen to a wee bit of his music here:

The thing I am most grateful for this weekend?  Big talk in small rooms.  The laughter between myself and Father Clark in the little chapel at the Diocese as the aspirants discussed the differences between right and left brain Episcopalians, knowing full well which is which between Father Clark and me.  And playing banjo with Marty.  The thing that most drained energy from me?  Small talk in big rooms.  But sacred moments, all of them.

God, thank you for the chance to begin a sacred search deeper into what it means to be called to bear good news.  And for the rest that comes after spending ourselves.  Amen.

"Aspirancy" Doesn't Appear in My Spell Check

Since having arrived in the Episcopal Church, I've been delighted with the adventure of new language.  The Anglican tradition is notorious for having a word for everything--the fair linen, lavobo, reridos, epistoler, cruet, crypt, coracle.  The words, at first, seemed endless and many of them unfamiliar.  And we think with words.  So, part of the joy of this change has been recalibrating my inward life with new language, which leads to different kinds of thoughts, and a chance for added nuance.

Another new word--aspirancy.

I've been accepted as an Aspirant for Holy Orders in the Episcopal Church.  This means I aspire to be a Priest.  I suspect God may want this for me and so the leaders in my local parish and Diocese are allowing me to investigate it with them.  So this will be a year of discernment and reflection.  Who am I?  What are my gifts?  Do they lend themselves to being a curator of a local church and of God's Sacraments?  Does the Spirit want this?  Do I want this?  All of these are rich questions.  

I have worked through these questions along the way as a Baptist, but now I get to consider them with a whole new set of words.  New language is good for the work of reconsideration.  My old college English professor, Bill Mitchell, told me that one of the great challenges of being a teller of the Good News of Christ will be to constantly discover new ways of saying it.  As the moniker of this website says, one must "practice resurrection."

Aspirancy doesn't appear in my spell check.  I'm off the linguistic grid a wee bit.