Worship as Work – and Response

A preaching assignment a couple of weeks ago drew me back into the text of the Old Testament to reflect on worship. There, with the help of friends, I re-discovered a foundational reality. In the Old Testament, there are basically two words, each of which are echoed in the New Testament, that coalesce the understanding of what worship is.

The first word captures the deep, visceral, heart-felt response to encounter with God. This is soul shaking awe, overwhelmed with the wonder of God’s presence – in the sanctuary, in creation, in meditation on the Way of the Lord. More than just experience, but experienced none the less, this moment of encounter pushes us to the limit of our capacity to respond – and then, beyond. It draws us out of ourselves into self-forgetfulness and invites a wide-range of actions – clapping, singing, shouting, dancing, silence, hands raising, bowing down – all arising out of awareness of being in the Presence of an awesome God, who has shown Himself good and great, Whose majesty overwhelms senses and language, with whole being worship being the only possible response.

The second word is a bit more mundane – but prepares for the response described by the first. The second concept gathers together the soul shaping work and discipline of worship – the mechanics of preparation – setting up the equipment, learning and leading the rituals, writing and singing the songs, weaving the textiles, making the tapestries, building and playing the instruments, and so on. It is often translated “serve” and regularly links to the work of the Levites – the tribe of Israel set apart to facilitate and teach worship and the ways of God to the rest of Israel. So important was their work that God instructed His people to set aside a tithe of their income to give to the Levites in support of them and their task. God apparently knew how easily we get knocked out of alignment in our day to day lives – so He set up a system by which to regularly re-align our hearts in worship to Who He is. And that, in turn, helps us remember who we are, and why we are here!

Worship is more than just the emotional and physical response to feeling the Presence of God. It is also the disciplined work of setting the table for such an encounter – because God is worthy. It is a valuable training of the soul in the disciplines of orientation by faith, without succumbing to the tyranny of feelings.

So – come! Let us worship. And bow down.

Ordinary Repentance (Luke 3:3-14)

 I grew up thinking that repentance was mostly rooted in feeling bad, maybe even guilty, about some thing I had done. I had plenty of practice! Often the threat of eternal damnation spurred the appropriate feelings for which repentance was the response and solution – and that usually meant ‘going forward’ at the end of a Sunday night sermon and spending enough time at the altar to alleviate the bad feelings.

In the last few years that I have realized that my understanding of repentance had more to do with not feeling bad any more – than with with any necessary change in behavior. It was possible for me to get good at feeling bad. And that was good enough. In fact, sometimes feeling bad produced an emotional reaction that I mistook for the assurance that God had forgiven me. So the strategy was to feel bad enough for long enough for whatever it was that I had done. And that was repentance. Implicit was the idea that, perhaps, I shouldn’t keep doing bad things – but changed behavior was less the content and more the occasional outcome of repentance.

It was a bit of a shock to discover that repentance, as it is used in the Bible, has to do with a change of behavior arising from a change of mind – and that any feelings are more about the desire for the new than they are about shame over the old. Repentance is about living a new way in the light of a new reality. Jesus called his listeners to repent – to live a new way – as an appropriate and necessary response to the fact that the Kingdom of God was now within their grasp. When John challenges his audience to “bear fruit in keeping with repentance” it is interesting to notice how he responds to questions from the crowd concerning what that fruit might look like.

He begins by suggesting that radical generosity is the first demonstration of authentic repentance. “If you have two cloaks, and another has none… do the math! And the same with food…”  A repentant tax collector should only collect the amount they are authorized – and not use their position to become wealthy. The soldier under force of repentance should be content with their salary – and not use their cover of authority either to extort money from people, or to make false accusations. Nothing very revolutionary! Or is it?

Imagine what a community shaped by this ordinary repentance – a community made up of people simply doing their jobs, and not taking whatever advantage their position afforded them to get ahead at cost to others.

John thinks that is repentance – living a new way in the light of the Kingdom’s coming. I think he might be on to something.

Present :: Luke 2:22-37

Peripheral people fascinate me. Those who stand just on the edge of moment – who play a small part in wonder – who witness or ask or point. And because they show up, we see and know in new ways. Peripheral people are not the center; they are supporting, sometimes minor, characters. They help us with transitions, with gaps, with course corrections, with just enough light at just the right moment. And then, duty done, they are gone.

Maybe its because I am increasingly partial to old people who still show up for work – but among my favorite peripheral people are Simeon and Anna. They appear in a few scant verses in Luke’s introduction to the story of Jesus. Then, part played, they are gone, their whole life focused into one single moment, one flash of revelatory lightning.

He shuffled towards them, an old man all but dancing with excitement, sandals softly slapping the ancient temple stone floor, rheumy eyes, black as charcoal but alive with the fire burning inside, riveted on the boy. Decades of waiting might have dulled the vision of other watchers, but not his. His was sharpened by hope, by expectancy. Every day since hearing the voice closer to him than his own breath whisper promise of life until Life, he had been alert to wonder. And this day, drawn to temple by that same voice, he finds himself watching as wonder is carried towards him ­– a six week old baby boy.

Eyes sharpened by the Spirit, he sees past their disqualifying poverty, and rejoices in promise kept, in duty done, in journey now ended with one prophetic rush of celebration… and warning. Promise comes – but with pain.

Then comes Anna, her voice no less important for its brevity,  no less needed for its gender. Every day and, often, as night turned to day, she was found here. Single hearted, focused hope; 84 years of looking forward collapse into this one moment of looking present. Here… now… Hope. 6 weeks old.

This is the One. Their duet soars through the ages. Hope has been born! We have seen Him.

Amazing to think what might happen one day when you show up, day after day, and mind your own business. And Who might be missed if you don’t.

Taking Christ Out of Christmas

 I think I understand the concern some folks have about substituting generic holiday greetings for Christmas greetings or replacing Christ in Christmas with an X. The latter is now more often understood as the unknown of algebra than the ancient Christian symbol using the Greek letter with which the name “Christ” begins. And the former symbolizes the apparent move to complete the secularization – for purposes of ostensibly non-offensive marketing – of a primarily religious holiday. Frankly, though, I am not sure that responding to a clerk’s, “Happy Holidays” with a snarling, snapping, “Merry Christmas!!” is the best way to redeem the season. That aside, is it possible to think about this whole thing another way?

Maybe the big problem with Christmas is not so much in the words we speak or the symbols we use as it is in way we isolate and enshrine it. The story of the Incarnation – the Word made flesh and dwelling among us – the coming of God to be with us and for us – can often get lost in the holiday-zation of a holy-day. No less for Christians than for others. The point of holy days is not the creation of a shrine in time, which we regularly visit with appropriate seasonal wonder, but the redeeming of all time. Perhaps we make the manger and its cast of characters the centerpiece – and miss the point.

It is appealing, in many ways, to simply leave Jesus safe in the manger where we might come and visit – or where we might even come and adore and bow down and worship – but which we may then leave to go about our business. No fear – we’ll be back for another sentimental visit next year. Of course none of us does that. At least not on purpose. But I wonder if we do that accidently. We become more enthralled in the wrappings than awed by the wonder of Christmas. And we forget to take Christ out of Christmas to be Immanuel – to be God with us – to be Word made flesh and tenting in our back yard.

So, a suggestion. Enjoy the Day – the Holy Day – for all its worth. Sing, laugh, eat, drink, enter into the wonder made real in family and friends. Give and receive gifts. Wear festive clothing. Welcome the stranger.

But then, the next day, take Christ out of Christmas to walk you in your ordinary, everyday, walking around life. Invite Him to be, truly, God with You.

The Weakness of Outrage

The week started with an explosion of somewhat disingenuous outrage over the final fade of Hannah Montana as Miley proved once again that the harder child stars try to prove themselves adults, the less likely they are to be anything but caricatures thereof, regardless of their talent. The disingenuity arose out of failure to similar outrage at the spectacle of her married dance partner “blurring the lines”. A word which, heretofore, most of us seemed able to get along without, made its way like a brain worm into the common consciousness.

The back and forth in the blogosphere and the parasitic entertainment media guaranteed a level of notariety which was clearly the point all along. Who would have imagined that Miley could out-Gaga, Gaga – as Gaga out-Madonna’d Madonna? Publicity, positive or negative, is the only goal. It was a take no prisoners approach. Well played, Miley. Sadly so. Once again, we have done this to you with our incessant demands for more shock as entertainment. And, we have done this to ourselves.

The gears of outrage continued to grind throughout the week but shifted, slowly and somewhat reluctantly, to a new cause by week’s end. Estimates vary, but somewhere approaching 100,000 Syrians have died at the hands of their own government in their faltering opposition to Assad’s failed regime. There has been a fair amount of hand-wringing over the past several months and more than a few tongues wagging and tut-tutting. But the recent allegations of chemical warfare, with hints of supportive evidence, have provided escape velocity to the public outrage. Something must now be done by someone!! Soon!! China and Russia walked out, effectively guaranteeing little more than continuing outrage from the United Nations. Britain dropped out of the forming coalition, leaving the United States and France to be the someones to do something.

The bookends of last week underline an important truth – outrage is neither strategy nor action. Harumphing at whatever volume is not engagement. But it creates the impression of action, of caring. And that, it seems, is enough for us.

But citizens of the Kingdom are reminded, yet again, that principalities and powers are at work in these two flesh and blood moments. And that realization makes action steps clear. First and last – and always – we pray. Then, taking on the defensive armor provided, we hold the ground assigned to us. Prayer is our most effective offense in times like these. After we have prayed, we may be assigned to, or choose, additional action – but until we have prayed, we have done nothing strategic in the coming of the Kingdom. For which, in times like these – and all times are like these – we pray.

Forgiveness :: Grace Actualized

When Moses wants to know more of God, his humility makes God’s response possible – and we learn that God is characterized by loving kindness and tender mercy. The two Hebrew words behind those phrases function like twin North stars throughout the rest of the Old Testament, guiding the children of Israel, and anyone reading over their shoulder, to the truth about God. Nowhere does that truth come more into focus than in the person of Jesus – the Word made flesh, dwelling among us. In fact, John says, those same two words provide the sum and substance of Jesus: Grace and Truth.

Those wild and wonderful and challenging words have a life of their own – so God puts them into action, summed up in one word: forgiveness. Forgiveness is grace actualized, truth embodied, kindness embodied, mercy enfleshed… Love with skin on. The Psalmists celebration in Psalm 130 echoes deeply, “If you, oh LORD, kept a record of sins, oh Lord, who could stand? But, with You, there is forgiveness; therefore, you are held in awe.”

Forgiveness is God’s primary orientation to us – He acts to forgive before we know to ask; His acting makes our asking possible – and repentance flows out of the wound of kindness. Jesus naturally prays out of the same heart on the cross – and we are the beneficiaries of His prayer, receiving the forgiveness of the Father.

But forgiveness is not just how God relates to us – it is how He expects us to relate to ourselves, and to those around us. Jesus makes this clear in the Lord’s Prayer by linking our being forgiven with our forgiving, reinforcing it with strength. Forgiveness becomes our primary way of orienting ourselves to people like us – flawed, failing, flailing, wounding others having been wounded ourselves, and suffering the wounds of others wounded. Forgiveness is perfect for people like us – it is the only way to move past the small and great hurts that are inevitable in community.

We are never more like Christ, never more the Image of God, then when we forgive. Forgiving is a fundamental part of learning to Rule in Jesus’ Name – relating to others as Jesus would, were He us. Forgiveness has the property of healing – absorbing the pain and shame of the wounded, isolating and ending the toxic cycle of revenge. To forgive well, we must know who we are, and Whose we are. But then, the sky is the limit!

Wonder Unfurling

I am sitting on the small patio of our new home. It is overcast and comfortably cool – perfect for hot coffee and a good book and the stillness of a Sunday afternoon with nothing to do but nothing. And plenty of guiltless time to do it. It is a book that invites pauses – but not deep reflection. A wonderful story by an author who writes such delightful sentences that I occasionally find myself laughing out loud – not simply for the great good humor, but for the way of words still to surprise, to entertain. His sentences alternate crisp, punchy dialogue with long, meandering paragraphs taking the reader to places that are at once unknown and familiar. Capturing in a phrase the subtle shift of emotion a raised eyebrow signals. Luxuriating in the deep beauty of a small flower garden, surrounded by ancient stone walls. To read is to join in a wonder unfurling.

In one of those pauses, I notice our plumeria. It has made the move with us and now sits in a place of pride, anchoring the tiny garden bordering the patio on which I sit. This is its second move so, if history repeats, it will go into a stage of dormancy while adjusting to the new surroundings – but right now it is in full leaf with flowers just beginning to unfurl. There are a few fragrances that have the power of transportation – and plumeria is one of them. In a couple of days, the pale yellow flowers will have the ability to take me to Maui or Kaua’i in a moment – for a moment. Such a delicate, sweet, headiness. Aromatherapy in a plastic pot. The fragrance of a wonder unfurling.

Not five feet away is a tree that appears to be part of the eucalyptus branch of the family –its bark telling the story of growth from the inside out. Splits, cracks, sheets – history in bark. The emerging of a wonder unfurling.

And how much more the children playing in the pocket park across the street, or the couple walking their dogs, or the rhythm and scrape of the approaching skateboard, or smell of bar-b-que signalling dinner, or the gentle breeze caressing and teasing the leaves overhead, dappling the sunlight. Wonders all. Unfurling.

There is much to reflect on – displacements, injustices, racism played loud in stereo, the deaths of innocents.

But, for this moment, on this day, it is enough to consider wonder. And rejoice in its unfurling.