A Meaningful Farewell

In John 14.15-21, Jesus speaks to his closest followers about . . . them – about what his death will mean for them in real time – God’s time . . . what they are to do . . . how things will really be . . . why they shouldn’t be afraid . . . this is his dying declaration of love.

If you love me, you will attend to the things I have told you – my commands.  

Just what are Jesus’ commands?  The most obvious is the one he has just given them – what he calls a ‘new command’:

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. -- John 13.34-35

This is not a demand for proof of our love . . . Jesus is speaking to his own followers – their love for him is a given.  What he’s is doing is telling them what love for him looks like.  He might have said it like this today: I love you and I know you love me, so I know you’ll do as I’ve told you and love each other.

Jesus continues:

And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with all you forever.  This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees it nor yet knows it. You know it, because it is among you, and it will be in you.

David Ewart in Holy Textures, notes that the Greek word for Truth (as in ‘Spirit of Truth’) is  A-lethea – from Lethe (the river in Hades people drank from to forget their past) and ‘a’, meaning ‘not’, so literally, what is translated as ‘truth’ means ‘not forgetting’.

Truth thus understood is to be alive, truly alive, to be aware, present, not in a stupor, not merely putting one foot in front of the other . . . it is the buoyancy, the bounce, the quickening of the budding flower bursting in to bloom in response to the radiance of the live-giving sun.

The Holy Spirit thus understood is that of God within each and all of us which calls us back to God . . . reminds us of all that is true, all that is real . . . keeps us remembering God and our call to God and God’s work in the world.

“I will not leave you bereft; I am entering you.  In a little while the world will no longer behold me, but you are beholding me; because I am living, you also will live.  On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.  

Through the Holy Spirit, our reality is that God, very-God dwells within and moves without us.  Trials and tragedies are real, but God’s very presence puts them in their proper context – nothing separates us from God and God’s presence, which is God’s Truth.  We live in a reality of God-beholding.

The one who has my laws and attends to them – that is the one loving me; and the one loving me will be loved by my Father, and I shall be loving him and shall be appearing to him myself.”

“Jesus made a promise then that is still alive today. . . the sum total of how to claim a full life in the face of the fear, terror, panic, isolation, loss, and grief that comes simply from living, that comes simply by the very nature of our existence in this world. . . His word to us is to trust in the abiding presence and love of God, which is unceasing, and to remember we are never alone, no matter what.” – Anna Hosemann Butler, Patheos, 5/25/14

A deathbed declaration made across time and space rings out thousands of years later in our hearts with its promise which we claim over and over and over again . . . Left not alone, we are made strong in ways we could never have imagined . . . Invested with love, we are made caring in ways that change a world . . . Left with work yet to be done, we are prepared to the tasks at hand . . . Left with the ever-present reminder of God’s Holy Spirit, we never forget who we are or what we are about.  

Eastertide

We are in the midst of Eastertide – the season in the church’s calendar between Easter Sunday and Pentecost.  It is a time of joyful celebration.  Resurrection – real and ever-present – abounds with every life-giving rain drop, every sun-kissed blooming.

William Sloan Coffin once said, “I know miracles are real, for I have seen Jesus turn beer into furniture.”

Resurrection happens in all kinds of ways – lives changed from disaster to hope . . . anger to laughter . . . resentment to forgiveness . . .

May you be found this Eastertide in full bloom – filled with God’s own resurrected, resurrecting love that never leaves anyone or anything the way they were found.

The Invisible Footprints of Leadership

To lead people, walk beside them ... As for the best leaders, the people do not notice their existence. The next best, the people honor and praise. The next, the people fear; and the next, the people hate ... When the best leader's work is done the people say, 'We did it ourselves!' — Lao-tsu

The quote from Lao-tsu reminds me of a similar conversation I often had with my ex-husband, usually when
we were dining in a nice restaurant.  Bob was speaking not of leaders, but of waiters, “you never see a good waiter.  It’s as if the water appears at your side by magic.  A good waiter knows that he is not to be noticed.”

Perhaps Bob and Lao-tsu have more in common than they might have thought, for they both speak to the servant model of leadership, a popular catch-phrase in the church.

But what does it mean to be a ‘servant leader’?  Most often, Christians point to Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet on the night of the Last Supper, and rightly so.  Jesus was giving his followers a show-and-tell lesson in servanthood from a leader’s perspective: nothing is so demeaning, that I would not do it for you and have you do it for others.  

But what about church leaders, and ministers in particular?  What does it look like to be a servant-leader in the middle of a committee meeting?  When listening to a congregant’s crisis?  When stuck behind a slow driver in the fast lane (who just might also be a congregant)?

Can it all be simply boiled down to the aphorism “lead by example”?

I wish I knew.

Most of the moments in my ministry that bring us all closer together aren’t what I think of as leadership moments.  Mostly, it’s when I’m sitting with someone who has just said good-bye to a loved one or when I’m listening to someone’s troubles, or when we’re laughing in the kitchen together, that I feel the unifying action of the Holy Spirit in our midst.  And that doesn’t seem like leadership.  That feels like being present.

Perhaps being present is part of being a leader . . . just the very ordinary act of showing up.  All I know for certain is that I am forgiven much when I just show up.

But back to Lao-tsu.  Being invisible feels counter-intuitive to being a good leader.  Don’t people have to see who or what they’re following?  And maybe that’s it – it’s the ‘what’ that matters; not the ‘who’.  I used to get quite irritated whenever someone would offer an idea or thought that they had gotten from me as if it were their own.  But I have come to realize that we all do this – take on board the thoughts of others and incorporate them into our own fabric, seldom realizing the origin of the thought from elsewhere.

Maybe it’s akin to seed planting.  The garden spends little time wondering where the seeds came from.  The garden takes the seeds on and nurtures them into maturity.  It matters that I plant the seeds, but it does not matter that the garden know it.

If I were to offer my own ‘Top Ten’ on good leadership, coming more from my own failures than successes, they would probably be:

1. Do no harm.  It’s axiomatic, but leaving folks worse off than better for the encounter is abuse, not leadership.  And the excuse, “this is for your own good” is just that – an excuse for my own failings.

2. Talk less, listen more.  I really fail at this one – a lot.

3. Roll up your sleeves.  Be willing to do anything that you ask others to do, especially the dirty, footwashing, kind of stuff that no one wants to do but has to be done.

4. Love, love, love.  I hear too many ministers speak of congregations for whom they have precious little love.  People know when they are not cherished.  To fail to love those whom we serve does great harm.

5. Share.  To refuse to delegate is to refuse to share – it’s an act of selfishness, not selflessness.

6. Show up.  Be present to people.  See them – really see them.

7. Admit what you can’t or won’t do.  There really are some things I cannot do.  And there really are some thing I just will not do.  I will not eat shrimp.  It’s silly, but it’s true.  I won’t eat it to please you.  I won’t eat it to be polite.  I won’t eat it.  And it’s really o.k. to say so.

8. Admit when you’re wrong.  We all make mistakes.  And people know yours.  What they don’t know is whether you know them or not.

9. Name the conflict and deal with it.  Conflict avoidance is deadly.  The conflict doesn’t go away by ignoring it.  We all know this.  But, oh, the lengths to which we will go to avoid dealing with it.  In 12 Step programs, there’s a slogan: Some are sick, some are sicker than others, and some are as sick as they want to be.  To avoid conflict is to be as sick as we want to be, to wallow in the misery of our own dysfunction and fear.

10. Know when it’s time to go.  The hardest thing for me to grasp has been that I am not always the solution to someone’s problem.  It’s much easier to blame them (“they really don’t want to change”) or to avoid the person or situation.  But years ago in another profession, I learned the value of letting go.  A client had become difficult to work with and we ended up avoiding each other.  I kept trying and trying and getting nowhere and then I gave up, but I didn’t let go, until finally I realized that nothing I did would resolve our situation and so I severed the relationship, over her objection.  Months later, I saw her.  She literally ran up to me.  I was frightened that she might hit me, but instead, she threw her arms around me and thanked me and let me know how she had been able to move on and resolve the problem that brought her to me in the first place.  With absolutely no help from me, she was able to do what she needed to do.  We were both better off for having parted ways.  It’s humbling to realize that I might not have what you need.  But it’s important: otherwise, we end up right back at #1, doing harm where we had only the best of intentions.

May the seeds grow, but may my footprints be invisible.

What I Am as a Person of Faith

Christian

believer

follower of the Risen One

disciple

follower

teacher

teacher who follows

follower who teaches

shepherded shepherd

beloved

lover

beloved lover

forgiven

named

claimed

rhymed to the rhythm of the universe

found wanting

wanting to be found

craver of too much for me

pursuer and pursued

stumbler along The Way

dancer to unheard tunes

freed and free and freeing

confident and confused

sure and uncertain

alive

better

raced and embraced

peculiarly me and eternally universal

well and well and truly well

longed for and longing

alone and accompanied

planted and uprooted

graced giver of graces

My Creed

Most Sundays we stand at church and proclaim together what we believe, our creed.  Today on FB, I shared The Creed of Living Legends from Digital Evangelism, the kind of thing that states in simple, declarative sentences what to do to be who I should be.  You know – inspiring.

But then I got to thinking and posted this challenge with it:

An exercise: tonight, review your day w/ paper and pen (no tablets for this one) -- then, based on what you did and did not do, what you said and did not say TODAY, write down YOUR creed . . . reflect on what you've written . . . our creed, you see, is not what we say we believe . . . it is what we do . . . thus, on a bad or frustrating day for me, my Creed would probably begin with "Be rude to other drivers for they surely deserve that honking horn for having the audacity to be in my way . . ."

And then I got to thinking that my joking reference to my driving probably is closer to the mark than I’d like to think when it comes to what I believe.

What do I believe if I look at my own yesterday?

● I believe that if you’re going to have guests, the good china should come out.

● I believe that whether it’s time at a vacation house by a lake or just hanging out at my house, time with family is time well spent.

● I believe that my time is more important than anyone else’s, so give myself the freedom to be late while becoming impatient with you when you do the same.

● I believe that mayonnaise on a hoagie or sub is morally wrong.

● I believe that planning my future makes sense, but imagining it is virtually impossible.

● I believe that some things are better left unsaid.

● I believe that Star Trek in its many iterations is filled with engaging ways to grapple with the big questions.

● I believe that laughter matters.

● I believe that this side of heaven, driving a fast car on a sunny day is about as close as I’m going to get.

● I believe that the want of you in me is bigger than the need of me is in you.

● I believe that God listens – sometimes with amusement, sometimes with frustration, sometimes with down right “I’m done with this”, but listening God does.

● I believe that I am very lucky and that good fortune needs sharing.

● I believe I will be a better cello player merely by having the cello sit in my living room.

So, what about you?  What did your yesterday say about what you believe?  

Being Loved

Being loved . . . 

it is a fine place to begin . . . 

and I can see the glimmering of the deeper forest a ways off but not so far as before . . . 

the forest depths that are God’s own deepening and loving and being . . . 

a place not light but dark . . . 

a place where privation thrives

it is a good thing for the only thing, even that small thing, is the only thing . . . 

God . . . 

and yes, dear Julian, all is well and will be well and whether I am here for the broken or they for me ceases to matter for there is only love . . . 

for me . . . 

for them . . . 

my own but an imperfect imagining of the real thing, the only thing, that is God . . . 

but it will have to do, for it is all that I have and all that I am . . . 

and lo, it is enough and more than enough and here I am and this then is purpose – 

not in the broken ones nor in me, but in God . . . 

where purpose has always resided . . . 

where else could it live?

Some Snippets on John 14

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me.  

At the time of their last gathering, when Jesus has washed the feet and the meal has been had and Judas has run off to do his dirty work, Jesus (1) tells his disciples he’s leaving and they can’t go with him and then (2) gives his followers their last and most important marching orders: Love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.  By this [loving] everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.

After pointing out how the grand claims to love will ring empty (Jesus’ prediction that Peter will betray him three times) Jesus’ very next words are but don’t worry about that.  Just believe.  Believe God.  Believe me.


In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.  

Jesus speaks of relationship with God as a home place – a place already ready and waiting . . . a place for you . . . where the sheets are clean and the bed already turned down, where your name is set in a place of honor . . . where you will be made not merely welcome, but at home . . .
.

And you know the way to the place where I am going.”  Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”  Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. 

I am . . . the way . . . the truth . . . the life . . . Jesus could just as well have said I am your way, your truth, your life . . . walk as I walk . . . live as I have lived . . . proclaim as I have proclaimed . . . this is your journey and your destination, all wrapped in to one . . . do not worry, for you really do know . . . you have seen me and in seeing me, you have seen the face of God and lived . . . keep seeing me and you will keep living, keep loving . . . for the fact is, you really do know the way because you know me.


No one comes to the Father except through me.  If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

This is not a creedal statement of our faith; rather, this is Jesus’ statement about his own identity.  This is Jesus’ own proclamation that he is The Divine.  Jesus is making it as clear as he can to his disciples that they have seen God (the Father) because they have seen Jesus.  They are one and the same.  Philip’s question and Jesus’ answer make that even more clear:


Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”  Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?  Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works.  

The very voice of God speaks now directly to Philip: Here I am, standing right before you.  Philip, I’m right here.  Right here, right now, you can be satisfied, made whole, filled . . . for right here, right now, I am.


Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. 

To make this be about miracles is too limited, too small, a claim.  Jesus is speaking here to one of his disciples, one who has lived, eaten, walked alongside, slept with, listened to, this Jesus.  Philip has seen the private face as well as the public one and thus is uniquely qualified to know Jesus through and through.  This is about knowing.

This isn’t about faith.  This is about understanding – about knowing the nature, the character of God . . . of knowing what kind of god God is.

And there is God, standing right in front of Philip and declaring, here I am, your exhibit A – know me and know what kind of God I am . . . know me and be comforted . . . know me . . .

This, perhaps, is the most surprising thing about the entirety of the New Testament: God is a god who wishes to be known.  Like you know your best friend known.  Like you know your lover known.  Like you know your husband or wife of 50 years+ known.  Like you know every crevasse of your baby’s body known.  Like you know the back of your own hand known.

There is a poignancy to this plea of God’s, this almost begging desire to be seen, to be understood, to be known.

And there, in that exchange with Philip, is the sum of our faith: behold your God . . . see your God . . . in the face, in the words, and especially in the doing, know Jesus, know your God.


Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. 

And in this seeing, in this knowing, there is an unleashing of great things where wonder walks the earth . . . and maybe, just maybe, he speaks of miracles and wonders . . . and maybe, just maybe, we were made to heal and also to upset the social order the way Jesus upset tables . . . maybe, just maybe, we were made to preach and proclaim and also to care about and from our caring feed the thousands as he did . . . maybe, just maybe, we were made to tell stories and also to sweat out our prayers like blood and pray reality into existence as he did . . . and maybe, just maybe, we, like Jesus, are here to love and in our loving, to make the God who so desires to be known be obvious to a world looking so hard for a little love.


I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.  If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

Whether we say so or not, all that we do, we do in his name, under his authority, his claim upon our lives.  All that we claim, we claim in his name, under his authority, his claim upon our lives.

Jesus answers for us because we are his.  Simple as that.

This life we live, these things we do, we live and do not on our own behalf, but on behalf of the one in whose name we come.

And so do we pray in Jesus’ name not as a magical incantation, as if stamping Jesus’ name on the end of our prayers guarantees their answer to our satisfaction.  Rather do we act in Jesus’ name in recognition that what we do and how we do it, which includes our prayers, we do only within the identity of Jesus as the Risen One, as God’s very self.  Thus do we merge into the God that God is, becoming one as God and Jesus himself are one.

It is an incredible gift and an incredible responsibility.

And it is all wrapped up in one simple sentence: my house is yours.  Where I live, you live.  Where I go, you go.  Where I am, you are.

Amen.