What thoughts I have of You tonight, God.
You protect me and You make giant waves
And wash people away. You owe me.
You make the tornados that suck
Up the people and move them to another dimension.
You lift every rock in the whole wide universe and throw them
At the people who try to hit me.
God, I see You playing video games in my room.
You're young, with shiny eyes like mine.
You have a little beard and You play the
Games without using controls
Because You can. Because You
Can fly without wings. You
Can use magic and make balls of fire and lightening.
God, You are powerful and I am a cell
Compared to you.
This is one of the most beautiful poems I've ever read. It was written anonymously by a ten year old boy dying of cancer and preserved in Miah Arnold's moving essay, "You Owe Me," about her work as a creative writing teacher in a juvenile cancer treatment center. It reminds me of the psalms. So arresting. I want it, I want it in a sermon someday.
"What use," I whispered, cried for no one in the world to hear, for no one but my soul, as though the words would rid it of the final burden of guilt, and I found myself a child agin, the years shed as a snake sheds its skin, and I was sanding over the awkward tangle of clothes and limbs. "What use, what use, what use..." and no one answered, not the body in the road, not the hawk in the sky or the beetle in the earth; no one answered.-- James Welch, Winter in the Blood
"The more he talked to the floor the more he nodded. It was a though the floor were talking back to him, grave words that kept him nodding gravely"-- James Welch, Winter in the Blood
"I at length became ambitious to find a family whose cabin had not been entered by a Methodist preacher... I traveled from settlement to settlement, but into every hovel I entered I learned that the Methodist missionary had been there before me"-- ca. 1800's Presbyterian missionary
"Nobody was out but crows and Methodist preachers"-- ca. 1800's popular saying
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Notable & Quotable
My new life goal is to start blogging lists of notable, quotable quotes I run across in my studies as an English and Philosophy and Religion major. I read so many great quotes and think, "Yeah! That'll preach!" Metaphorically and literally. But I never write them down or collect them in any organized way. That is changing now. Hopefully.
"In a corner, looking over our shoulders, was a statue of the crucified Savior, all bloody and beaten up. Charlene looked up and said, 'Look at that poor Indian. The pigs sure worked him over.' That was the closest I ever came to seeing Jesus," Mary Crow Dog, Lakota Woman
"He wore black like a cleric; he had the voice of a great dog," Scott Momaday, House Made of Dawn
"Conviction, caricature, callousness: the remainder of his sermon was a going back and forth among these"
"He has diluted and multiplied the Word, and words have begun to close in upon him"
"He stepped back from the lectern and held his head, smiling. In his mind the earth was spinning and the stars rattled around in the heavens. The sun shone, and the moon. Smiling in a kind of transport, the Priest of the Sun stood silent for a time while the congregation waited to be dismissed. 'Good night,' he said, 'and get yours"
"There was such pain in the priest's eyes he could not bear to look into them. He was embarrassed, humiliated; he hated the priest for suffering so"
"Even at fifteen, in Idaho, I hadn't written from within my despair until after I was safely over it, and now, all the more so, the stories that mattered to me were the ones told-- selected, clarified-- in retrospect" Jonathan Frazen, "Farther Away"
"In the summer before he died, sitting with him on the patio while he smoked cigarettes, I couldn't keep my eyes off the hummingbirds around his house, and was saddened that he could, and while he was taking his heavily medicated afternoon naps, I was studying the birds of Ecuador for an upcoming trip, and I understood the difference between his unmanageable misery and my manageable discontent was that I could escape myself in the joy of birds and he could not"
"How easy and natural love is if you are well! And how gruesomely difficult-- what a philosophically daunting contraption of self-delusion love appears to be-- if you are not! And yet one of the lessons of David's work (and for me, of being his friend) is that the difference between well and not well is in more respects a difference of degree than of kind"
"As long as we have such complications, how dare we bored?"
"I like to play chess. I moved to a small town, and nobody played chess there, but one guy challenged me to checkers. I always thought it was kind of a simple game, but I accepted. And he beat me nine or ten games in a row. That's sort of like living in a small town. It's a simpler game, but it's played to a higher level" Peter Hessler, "Dr. Don"
"In a corner, looking over our shoulders, was a statue of the crucified Savior, all bloody and beaten up. Charlene looked up and said, 'Look at that poor Indian. The pigs sure worked him over.' That was the closest I ever came to seeing Jesus," Mary Crow Dog, Lakota Woman
"He wore black like a cleric; he had the voice of a great dog," Scott Momaday, House Made of Dawn
"Conviction, caricature, callousness: the remainder of his sermon was a going back and forth among these"
"He has diluted and multiplied the Word, and words have begun to close in upon him"
"He stepped back from the lectern and held his head, smiling. In his mind the earth was spinning and the stars rattled around in the heavens. The sun shone, and the moon. Smiling in a kind of transport, the Priest of the Sun stood silent for a time while the congregation waited to be dismissed. 'Good night,' he said, 'and get yours"
"There was such pain in the priest's eyes he could not bear to look into them. He was embarrassed, humiliated; he hated the priest for suffering so"
"Even at fifteen, in Idaho, I hadn't written from within my despair until after I was safely over it, and now, all the more so, the stories that mattered to me were the ones told-- selected, clarified-- in retrospect" Jonathan Frazen, "Farther Away"
"In the summer before he died, sitting with him on the patio while he smoked cigarettes, I couldn't keep my eyes off the hummingbirds around his house, and was saddened that he could, and while he was taking his heavily medicated afternoon naps, I was studying the birds of Ecuador for an upcoming trip, and I understood the difference between his unmanageable misery and my manageable discontent was that I could escape myself in the joy of birds and he could not"
"How easy and natural love is if you are well! And how gruesomely difficult-- what a philosophically daunting contraption of self-delusion love appears to be-- if you are not! And yet one of the lessons of David's work (and for me, of being his friend) is that the difference between well and not well is in more respects a difference of degree than of kind"
"As long as we have such complications, how dare we bored?"
"I like to play chess. I moved to a small town, and nobody played chess there, but one guy challenged me to checkers. I always thought it was kind of a simple game, but I accepted. And he beat me nine or ten games in a row. That's sort of like living in a small town. It's a simpler game, but it's played to a higher level" Peter Hessler, "Dr. Don"
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Holy Confusion
It has been way too long since I have blogged. Over a month. I suppose I haven't been feeling very creative lately. It's been a number of things-- transitioning, classes, working on my freelance ghostwriting Bible guide (which I finally finished!). A big reason, though, is my growing realization I have less than a year left of childhood.
Really, I'm still a kid in so many ways. Yes, I'm old enough to drive and join the military and (gasp!) marry and be a mother. But I lost my room key on Sunday. I still like to watch junky TV and look at cute boys and eat ice cream right out of the container. And ten months from now, I'll probably be a pastor.
Are pastors allowed to find certain guys attractive? (For the record: tall, dark, handsome, facial hair.) Isn't that just being a fisher of men?
Sigh. I have a lot to think about.
If you asked me to tell you my "call story," I could give a number of defining events, important Bible verses, and nice things people have said to me. But no bush burnt before me. An angel did not touch my lips with hot coals. In short, I don't know if I'm supposed to go into the ministry. And I don't know how well it will work out. Jeremiah was called to ministry and nobody listened to him and he almost got killed.
I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I would hazard a guess lots of other people don't know what the hell they're doing, either. (Pardon my French. Oh, I guess pastors aren't supposed to say "hell" either unless they're talking about the place. So if you're Methodist-- never.)
There's that wonderful story about the walk to Emmaus at the end of Luke. Jesus joins two disciples walking to the village of Emmaus after Easter. They are thoroughly confused about Jesus, about the cross, about their place in it all. And Jesus comes to them, gently rebukes them for not believing, and shows them who he really is. But tellingly, "they were kept from recognizing him."
Why? Luke doesn't say. I wonder if that's the point.
One night, the summer before my freshman year of high school, I went for a run. (That was back when I exercised regularly!) I got back and, exhausted, sat before my open window, cool air rushing in, and began reading my Bible. I decided suddenly I wanted to read the entire Bible, one chapter per day, because surely everything about God I could learn from reading Bible if I tried hard enough. I don't regret that failed experiment, although it caused me a lot of heartache as I quickly discovered the vanity, the naiveté and hubris behind that plan. God brought me back, though. He always, always does.
And he gave me the gift now, five years later, of reading the entire Bible and even writing a book about it without going crazy or losing my faith.
I wonder if I am learning the same lesson again as I struggle to understand my calling. My calling is not really mine. It belongs first to God, and if God doesn't want to fully reveal that calling to me-- well, he's perfectly within his rights. Even if it annoys the living you-know-what out of me. My calling also belongs to the church universal, the body of Christ, to which I am giving my life by entering ordained ministry. I have had the church recognize in a number of beautiful but ultimately unremarkable ways a calling within me. Or, a better way of putting it: the church calls me to ministry by the power of the Holy Spirit.
I sense "graces and gifts for ministry," to use the Wesleyan jargon, in me. But I don't know for sure. I really don't know. Maybe I, like those poor confused disciples, am walking the right path with Jesus beside me, my traveling companions at my side, and am simply kept from recognizing, in certainty, this call.
Maybe God, who knows fully and yet loves en telois (John 13:2)-- to the end, to completion, as much as it possible to love, knows me well enough to do this to me. Certainty might become an idol for me, the way books and academics have been and are for me at certain points. Left in the dark, I have to trust my God and his church. I have to stop navel-gazing and get on my knees.
I suspect-- like I said before-- everyone feels some uncertainty. Maybe God leaves us in uncertain spots in direct proportion to our hunger for certainty. Then, like the disciples on their walk to Emmaus, we can feast on his bread of life.
Really, I'm still a kid in so many ways. Yes, I'm old enough to drive and join the military and (gasp!) marry and be a mother. But I lost my room key on Sunday. I still like to watch junky TV and look at cute boys and eat ice cream right out of the container. And ten months from now, I'll probably be a pastor.
Are pastors allowed to find certain guys attractive? (For the record: tall, dark, handsome, facial hair.) Isn't that just being a fisher of men?
Sigh. I have a lot to think about.
If you asked me to tell you my "call story," I could give a number of defining events, important Bible verses, and nice things people have said to me. But no bush burnt before me. An angel did not touch my lips with hot coals. In short, I don't know if I'm supposed to go into the ministry. And I don't know how well it will work out. Jeremiah was called to ministry and nobody listened to him and he almost got killed.
I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I would hazard a guess lots of other people don't know what the hell they're doing, either. (Pardon my French. Oh, I guess pastors aren't supposed to say "hell" either unless they're talking about the place. So if you're Methodist-- never.)
There's that wonderful story about the walk to Emmaus at the end of Luke. Jesus joins two disciples walking to the village of Emmaus after Easter. They are thoroughly confused about Jesus, about the cross, about their place in it all. And Jesus comes to them, gently rebukes them for not believing, and shows them who he really is. But tellingly, "they were kept from recognizing him."
Why? Luke doesn't say. I wonder if that's the point.
One night, the summer before my freshman year of high school, I went for a run. (That was back when I exercised regularly!) I got back and, exhausted, sat before my open window, cool air rushing in, and began reading my Bible. I decided suddenly I wanted to read the entire Bible, one chapter per day, because surely everything about God I could learn from reading Bible if I tried hard enough. I don't regret that failed experiment, although it caused me a lot of heartache as I quickly discovered the vanity, the naiveté and hubris behind that plan. God brought me back, though. He always, always does.
And he gave me the gift now, five years later, of reading the entire Bible and even writing a book about it without going crazy or losing my faith.
I wonder if I am learning the same lesson again as I struggle to understand my calling. My calling is not really mine. It belongs first to God, and if God doesn't want to fully reveal that calling to me-- well, he's perfectly within his rights. Even if it annoys the living you-know-what out of me. My calling also belongs to the church universal, the body of Christ, to which I am giving my life by entering ordained ministry. I have had the church recognize in a number of beautiful but ultimately unremarkable ways a calling within me. Or, a better way of putting it: the church calls me to ministry by the power of the Holy Spirit.
I sense "graces and gifts for ministry," to use the Wesleyan jargon, in me. But I don't know for sure. I really don't know. Maybe I, like those poor confused disciples, am walking the right path with Jesus beside me, my traveling companions at my side, and am simply kept from recognizing, in certainty, this call.
Maybe God, who knows fully and yet loves en telois (John 13:2)-- to the end, to completion, as much as it possible to love, knows me well enough to do this to me. Certainty might become an idol for me, the way books and academics have been and are for me at certain points. Left in the dark, I have to trust my God and his church. I have to stop navel-gazing and get on my knees.
I suspect-- like I said before-- everyone feels some uncertainty. Maybe God leaves us in uncertain spots in direct proportion to our hunger for certainty. Then, like the disciples on their walk to Emmaus, we can feast on his bread of life.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Salvation History at Kum N Go (At Present Casey's)
The Lord approacheth, the Lord passeth by
The Lord confronts that counter
And Tommy the tired old cashier starts to
Ask "what can I get you today--
But the words break
That countenance shatters them
"Give me some scratchers, sir please, the dollar ones"
Thus sayeth the Lord
Thus sayeth him whose
Way was by the sea, whose gait in the first garden
Was the first gamble, the right gamble
The wheel of fortune spinneth
The center does not hold--
"Thank you, Tom"
And the Lord leaves that store
But he was kept from recognizing him
Whose mysterium tremendum
Still goes boink! in the night still
Incarnates: mangers and lotteries and the whole bit
What will he find, he who scratcheth
Me by blinding lights in somber nights?
A million, or just a thousand, small fortune
Greatness, such inventiveness is man?
Or ten dollars for a quarter tank
Two bucks for a Coke or
One free ticket, my hour has not yet come?
Could be it's a loser: can't be redeemed
Gathered up for the fire to be burned
Tomorrow's trash day?
Or maybe, just maybe
The Lord riggeth, the Lord winnith
Not spinnith
And he is making all things new
Even one untimely born
Slouching once more to Bethlehem
The Lord confronts that counter
And Tommy the tired old cashier starts to
Ask "what can I get you today--
But the words break
That countenance shatters them
"Give me some scratchers, sir please, the dollar ones"
Thus sayeth the Lord
Thus sayeth him whose
Way was by the sea, whose gait in the first garden
Was the first gamble, the right gamble
The wheel of fortune spinneth
The center does not hold--
"Thank you, Tom"
And the Lord leaves that store
But he was kept from recognizing him
Whose mysterium tremendum
Still goes boink! in the night still
Incarnates: mangers and lotteries and the whole bit
What will he find, he who scratcheth
Me by blinding lights in somber nights?
A million, or just a thousand, small fortune
Greatness, such inventiveness is man?
Or ten dollars for a quarter tank
Two bucks for a Coke or
One free ticket, my hour has not yet come?
Could be it's a loser: can't be redeemed
Gathered up for the fire to be burned
Tomorrow's trash day?
Or maybe, just maybe
The Lord riggeth, the Lord winnith
Not spinnith
And he is making all things new
Even one untimely born
Slouching once more to Bethlehem
Friday, July 26, 2013
"Jerusalem" by William Blake
And did those feet, in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded in
Among these dark satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear while clouds unfold
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Til we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land
McMinistry: What McDonalds Taught Me About Calling
I have been working at McDonald's this summer, and I believe God is forming me for ministry through this experience. My friend Aubrey said she thought everyone should work fast food at some point. I disagreed at the time, arguing that I had worked at a daycare and therefore knew what any fast food worker knows about people and small, hard earned paychecks. Now I know she was right. McDonalds can teach me as much as my Truman education-- and I'm not just talking about Hamburger University.
McDonalds is hard work. My feet and back ache on and off the clock, my ears buzz with the din of cranky voices and endless beeping of timers. My smile aches as I tire of the outrageously perky customer service act I must put on. Yes, the daycare was hard, but I could sit with the kids and give my legs a break. I could decide to pour my heart and soul into the children, therefore giving the long day some meaning. It's hard to feel passionate, though, about getting grumpy people fake food that could literally kill them.
Now I like a cheeseburger and fries as much as the next person. And I do indulge from time to time. But do I feel fulfilled when I hand that 300 pound lady who comes every day her large-sized Big Mac meal? Not really.
When the shifts start to drag, I think about the car I will buy someday with this money, or the new exciting life God and I will build together when I graduate. But many of my coworkers' paychecks nearly disappear every month into an avalanche of bills. I know some of them are on food stamps. Others live with boyfriends, parents, or friends for mostly financial reasons.
Now here's the piercing question: What is the gospel for them? What does the good news mean to the twenty-two year old single mom of three working at McDonalds, to her mother who has started working there as a janitor? To the thirty year old guy who went to college, but is still a shift manager and after years of trying has quit looking for anything else? What can we say to them about vocation and calling?
Here's a pernicious lie from Satan that has wormed its way into the church through well meaning Christians who have lived lucky lives: You are your job, and your calling is what you do to make money. For some people, that is true. A pastor's calling should be her job; what the church pays her to do and God asks that she do are the same. Scholars, artists, doctors, non-profit people, etc. are often like that, too. But not my McDonalds coworkers. I believe God created them for more than flipping burgers. To say God called them to work at McDonalds is both untrue and insulting.
1 Corinthians 7:21 says, "Were you a slave when you were called? Don't let it trouble you-- although if you can gain your freedom, do so." (And note this "calling" is not to slavery or freedom, not to any job, except to a life of following Jesus Christ.) This is why people get confused about Paul's statements on slavery. Paul is saying whether you are a slave or not doesn't really matter. All that matters is Jesus! If they can get out of slavery-- and make no mistake, minimum wage work is modern day, American capitalism-sanctioned slavery-- they should. Paul isn't saying the system of slavery is okay. The Corinthians could no more dismantle slavery than my coworkers can force McDonald's to pay them a living wage. Of course the system is evil. The Bible, when addressing people in power like in Exodus or Amos or with the Pharisees, is quite clear on that point. That isn't the point Paul is making here; he's addressing the "slaves." His point is that God calls us to a battle, a dream, a vocation, that transcends what our "job" is.
"But to each one is given a manifestation of the Spirit for the common good... Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it," says 1 Corinthians 12. To each one! To every person who believes in Jesus, even the McDonalds employee struggling to make ends meet. McDonalds strips you of your individuality-- Wear the same black uniform as everyone else, stick to approved procedures, then collect the paycheck that will barely clothe and house you. God celebrates your individuality, says-- You have unique gifts and powers from me, a special place in my family, and I need you. And I believe God says this to every single person willing to accept it. Not just the people with college degrees.
I want to be a pastor who helps people figure out the way the Spirit has gifted them, and use those gifts for God's glory as members of Christ's body, of God's family. I want to say to my coworkers--
This order taking, sandwich assembling drudgery is meaningless. It is far less than what God created you for. What God created you to be, I don't know exactly. A fiery prophet, shaking the complacent from their sin? A healer, speaking life to the sick and broken? A prayer warrior, casting down strongholds of Satan from your knees? Something else I don't yet know? Go to the church, and they will help you figure it out. You will hear God's voice through God's people, telling you that even though the world says you have a McJob, the truth is that you have a calling and a family.
But I can't say it. In part because the church is too riddled with conflict, too disconnected from God, too invested in the clergy professionals doing all to make such promises. What God created me to be, I don't know. But I think, I think, God created me to be a pastor so I can help other people find what God created them to do.
And my McDonalds coworkers remind me of how desperately this is needed.
McDonalds is hard work. My feet and back ache on and off the clock, my ears buzz with the din of cranky voices and endless beeping of timers. My smile aches as I tire of the outrageously perky customer service act I must put on. Yes, the daycare was hard, but I could sit with the kids and give my legs a break. I could decide to pour my heart and soul into the children, therefore giving the long day some meaning. It's hard to feel passionate, though, about getting grumpy people fake food that could literally kill them.
Now I like a cheeseburger and fries as much as the next person. And I do indulge from time to time. But do I feel fulfilled when I hand that 300 pound lady who comes every day her large-sized Big Mac meal? Not really.
When the shifts start to drag, I think about the car I will buy someday with this money, or the new exciting life God and I will build together when I graduate. But many of my coworkers' paychecks nearly disappear every month into an avalanche of bills. I know some of them are on food stamps. Others live with boyfriends, parents, or friends for mostly financial reasons.
Now here's the piercing question: What is the gospel for them? What does the good news mean to the twenty-two year old single mom of three working at McDonalds, to her mother who has started working there as a janitor? To the thirty year old guy who went to college, but is still a shift manager and after years of trying has quit looking for anything else? What can we say to them about vocation and calling?
Here's a pernicious lie from Satan that has wormed its way into the church through well meaning Christians who have lived lucky lives: You are your job, and your calling is what you do to make money. For some people, that is true. A pastor's calling should be her job; what the church pays her to do and God asks that she do are the same. Scholars, artists, doctors, non-profit people, etc. are often like that, too. But not my McDonalds coworkers. I believe God created them for more than flipping burgers. To say God called them to work at McDonalds is both untrue and insulting.
1 Corinthians 7:21 says, "Were you a slave when you were called? Don't let it trouble you-- although if you can gain your freedom, do so." (And note this "calling" is not to slavery or freedom, not to any job, except to a life of following Jesus Christ.) This is why people get confused about Paul's statements on slavery. Paul is saying whether you are a slave or not doesn't really matter. All that matters is Jesus! If they can get out of slavery-- and make no mistake, minimum wage work is modern day, American capitalism-sanctioned slavery-- they should. Paul isn't saying the system of slavery is okay. The Corinthians could no more dismantle slavery than my coworkers can force McDonald's to pay them a living wage. Of course the system is evil. The Bible, when addressing people in power like in Exodus or Amos or with the Pharisees, is quite clear on that point. That isn't the point Paul is making here; he's addressing the "slaves." His point is that God calls us to a battle, a dream, a vocation, that transcends what our "job" is.
"But to each one is given a manifestation of the Spirit for the common good... Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it," says 1 Corinthians 12. To each one! To every person who believes in Jesus, even the McDonalds employee struggling to make ends meet. McDonalds strips you of your individuality-- Wear the same black uniform as everyone else, stick to approved procedures, then collect the paycheck that will barely clothe and house you. God celebrates your individuality, says-- You have unique gifts and powers from me, a special place in my family, and I need you. And I believe God says this to every single person willing to accept it. Not just the people with college degrees.
I want to be a pastor who helps people figure out the way the Spirit has gifted them, and use those gifts for God's glory as members of Christ's body, of God's family. I want to say to my coworkers--
This order taking, sandwich assembling drudgery is meaningless. It is far less than what God created you for. What God created you to be, I don't know exactly. A fiery prophet, shaking the complacent from their sin? A healer, speaking life to the sick and broken? A prayer warrior, casting down strongholds of Satan from your knees? Something else I don't yet know? Go to the church, and they will help you figure it out. You will hear God's voice through God's people, telling you that even though the world says you have a McJob, the truth is that you have a calling and a family.
But I can't say it. In part because the church is too riddled with conflict, too disconnected from God, too invested in the clergy professionals doing all to make such promises. What God created me to be, I don't know. But I think, I think, God created me to be a pastor so I can help other people find what God created them to do.
And my McDonalds coworkers remind me of how desperately this is needed.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Glass Half Empty
I am a glass half empty soul. Most people come to know that about me. I remember being very small, young enough to be holding my father's hand, and him asking me how my day had been. I thought about it for a moment. "Well, it was pretty good. But it could have been a lot better." My father replied gently, "Don't be so serious. Just be happy with your day." We have had this same exchange many times since, and ironically I am sometimes the one urging him to be happier with his day. But to use a well worn cliche, good is the enemy of great. Why not be disappointed when bad things happen, disappointed enough to rise up and change them?
The syrupy, saccharine optimism effused by some Christians drives me crazy. In my opinion, it comes from full stomachs, fat bank accounts, easy living-- not from Jesus Christ. The Bible says we should be always sorrowful, always rejoicing. The gospel involves the deepest joy and most profound sadness. Not despair, but the sadness of God, when we "weep with those who weep" and "wish ourselves accursed," like Paul, like Moses, longing and toiling for the salvation of our brothers and sisters.
I believe we all relate to God differently, reflect God's image uniquely, and I can, must serve God through my pessimism. So one of my favorite passages of the Bible is Jeremiah 20:7-18. (As you can probably guess, Jeremiah is one of my favorite prophets!)
He begins-- "O Lord, you have enticed me, and I was enticed; you have overpowered me, and you have prevailed." The Hebrew words for "entice" and "overpower" suggest seduction and rape. Not the most Sunday School friendly passage! Jeremiah courageously names that he has experienced God as an aggressor, who wooed Jeremiah to his heart but now forces him to stay. It is like that ironic little line in the parable of the talents that always makes me smile, "I know you (referring to God) are a hard man, reaping where you have not sown." Sometimes that's how it feels! How dare God make me do this hard thing? How dare God not let me run my own life?! I am comforted that even the prophet Jeremiah has this sentiment, too.
For whenever I speak, I must cry out
I must shout, "Violence and destruction!"
For the word of the Lord has become for me
a reproach and a derision all day long.
If I say, "I will not mention him
or speak anymore in his name,"
there is within me something like a burning fire
shut up in my bones
I am weary with holding it in
and I cannot.
This sums up so much of what I believe about the ministry, about calling, about church. Pastors must sometimes be a lone voice crying out, "Violence and destruction!" Okay, maybe not in those exact words. But they do have to point out when things must change, to gently-- and maybe not so gently-- nudge those sheep with the rod and staff.
And that-- my God!-- that terrifying question! Is it the word of the Lord? Am I doing what I'm supposed to be doing? It is the question life asks us all, the question that drives some people to greatness and others to despair. The book of Jeremiah portrays many false prophets, deemed as such by God because they spoke when God did not want them to speak. Generally it was simple, comforting words. God won't punish you for your idolatry. No worries. And here comes Jeremiah crying, "Violence and destruction!"
How did he know it was God, not his ego, not a strange new PR campaign? God forced him to do this. Raped him, burned him, made him crazy until he screamed, "Violence and destruction!"
I don't think that was in the shiny seminary brochures I've looked at lately.
Would Jeremiah pass the required psychological testing for the ordination process? Or would he be a little too high in the paranoia, anxiety, and depressive scales? (If anyone reading this is wondering whether I'm saying that because I didn't pass, you would be wrong. I did fine on the psychological test, although yes, it registered a bit of paranoia/anxiety, which makes sense given how religiously I lock my doors.)
This section ends with Jeremiah wishing repeatedly he were dead. He isn't living his best life now. He needs to change his attitude. Smile. Be positive. Except sometimes God's word is a reproach and derision, "toil and sorrow" and "shame" (20:18).
Anyway, these are just my thoughts on this passage. I don't pretend to know what I am doing. Well, sometimes I do and then wake up a few days later and think, Who was I kidding? I might end up a pastor. I might also end up joining the circus. Who knows?
Either way, this God will be with me, "like a dread warrior," seducing me, possessing me. Because the best way to sum up the Bible, to sum up the spiritual life, would be that old saying, "The Lord your God is a jealous God." He made us, died for us, and he isn't letting go.
The syrupy, saccharine optimism effused by some Christians drives me crazy. In my opinion, it comes from full stomachs, fat bank accounts, easy living-- not from Jesus Christ. The Bible says we should be always sorrowful, always rejoicing. The gospel involves the deepest joy and most profound sadness. Not despair, but the sadness of God, when we "weep with those who weep" and "wish ourselves accursed," like Paul, like Moses, longing and toiling for the salvation of our brothers and sisters.
I believe we all relate to God differently, reflect God's image uniquely, and I can, must serve God through my pessimism. So one of my favorite passages of the Bible is Jeremiah 20:7-18. (As you can probably guess, Jeremiah is one of my favorite prophets!)
He begins-- "O Lord, you have enticed me, and I was enticed; you have overpowered me, and you have prevailed." The Hebrew words for "entice" and "overpower" suggest seduction and rape. Not the most Sunday School friendly passage! Jeremiah courageously names that he has experienced God as an aggressor, who wooed Jeremiah to his heart but now forces him to stay. It is like that ironic little line in the parable of the talents that always makes me smile, "I know you (referring to God) are a hard man, reaping where you have not sown." Sometimes that's how it feels! How dare God make me do this hard thing? How dare God not let me run my own life?! I am comforted that even the prophet Jeremiah has this sentiment, too.
For whenever I speak, I must cry out
I must shout, "Violence and destruction!"
For the word of the Lord has become for me
a reproach and a derision all day long.
If I say, "I will not mention him
or speak anymore in his name,"
there is within me something like a burning fire
shut up in my bones
I am weary with holding it in
and I cannot.
This sums up so much of what I believe about the ministry, about calling, about church. Pastors must sometimes be a lone voice crying out, "Violence and destruction!" Okay, maybe not in those exact words. But they do have to point out when things must change, to gently-- and maybe not so gently-- nudge those sheep with the rod and staff.
And that-- my God!-- that terrifying question! Is it the word of the Lord? Am I doing what I'm supposed to be doing? It is the question life asks us all, the question that drives some people to greatness and others to despair. The book of Jeremiah portrays many false prophets, deemed as such by God because they spoke when God did not want them to speak. Generally it was simple, comforting words. God won't punish you for your idolatry. No worries. And here comes Jeremiah crying, "Violence and destruction!"
How did he know it was God, not his ego, not a strange new PR campaign? God forced him to do this. Raped him, burned him, made him crazy until he screamed, "Violence and destruction!"
I don't think that was in the shiny seminary brochures I've looked at lately.
Would Jeremiah pass the required psychological testing for the ordination process? Or would he be a little too high in the paranoia, anxiety, and depressive scales? (If anyone reading this is wondering whether I'm saying that because I didn't pass, you would be wrong. I did fine on the psychological test, although yes, it registered a bit of paranoia/anxiety, which makes sense given how religiously I lock my doors.)
This section ends with Jeremiah wishing repeatedly he were dead. He isn't living his best life now. He needs to change his attitude. Smile. Be positive. Except sometimes God's word is a reproach and derision, "toil and sorrow" and "shame" (20:18).
Anyway, these are just my thoughts on this passage. I don't pretend to know what I am doing. Well, sometimes I do and then wake up a few days later and think, Who was I kidding? I might end up a pastor. I might also end up joining the circus. Who knows?
Either way, this God will be with me, "like a dread warrior," seducing me, possessing me. Because the best way to sum up the Bible, to sum up the spiritual life, would be that old saying, "The Lord your God is a jealous God." He made us, died for us, and he isn't letting go.
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