INFJ - "Author". Strong drive and enjoyment to help others. Complex personality. 1.5% of total population. |
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INFJ - "Author". Strong drive and enjoyment to help others. Complex personality. 1.5% of total population. |
Dante had Virgil as a guide. Before he had younger siblings, my oldest child had an imaginary friend named Patrick. Betsy had Tacy. Laura Ingalls depended on her brindle bulldog, Jack. All of them were companions on the way.
As we take the beginning steps of our journey through Lent, who would we take as a companion? Name five people, real or imaginary, you might like to have with you as guide or guardian or simply good friend.
I've gone so far from my home
I've seen the world and I have known
So many secrets
I wish now I did not know
'Cause they have crept into my heart
They have left it cold and dark
And bleeding,
Bleeding and falling apart
And everybody used to tell me big boys don't cry
Well I've been around enough to know that that was the lie
That held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons
Well we are children no more, we have sinned and grown old
And our Father still waits and He watches down the road
To see the crying boys come running back to His arms
And be growing young
Growing young
Our good friend Kathryn, an ordained Lutheran pastor in a suburb of the Twin Cities, wrote the following for her congregation's March newsletter. After Kathryn shared it with me, I asked her if I could post it here for you to consider. I love it when a good friend writes or preaches something that challenges me and provokes me to think about what it means to be a follower of Christ - thank you, Kathryn!
X percentage of people in the
Jesus. Now that is a different story. You’ll have no problem finding someone who doesn’t know Jesus. Someone who not just doesn’t know Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior, but someone who has been hurt by the idea of Christianity (by individual churches, by government, by people) so much so that they have a completely upside down view of who Jesus is. To far too many people, Jesus is the person who is followed by people who claim to be Christian. And let’s face our ugly story: Christians aren’t always the best examples of following Jesus.
This March, this Lenten season, I challenge you to find someone who doesn’t know Jesus. The Jesus who created the world and all that is in it. The Jesus who was born in the most unlikely of places to the most unlikely of parents. The Jesus who became one of us so that we would know that our creator loves us enough to become one of us. The Jesus who died, who overcame death, so that each one of us would know that death is nothing to fear: the wages of our sins, all our sins, even the stuff we don’t like to admit to ourselves, is death. But death doesn’t matter anymore because God, in the person of Jesus, swallowed it up. No more death, no more tears, no more crying.
It is crazy and radical and astounding Good News! And one of the best ways for people to hear about this Jesus is if you tell them about this Jesus. The Jesus you know. Not the Jesus that people throw around to win votes, or “save souls,” or pump up their personal banking accounts, but the Jesus who overcomes the world not through power and prestige, but through serving others. Serving us. All the way to the cross. And through to Easter morning. And through all our tomorrows. That’s the real Jesus. That’s the Jesus worth talking about. That’s the Jesus worth knowing.
One of the central arguments many people use against God’s church has to do with hypocrites. If I may caricature the argument, it usually goes like this: “I don’t have anything against God or Jesus, but the church is full of hypocrites. That’s why I don’t belong to a church.” And usually the defense is pretty predictable, too. Sometimes the church apologist uses the “mea culpa” defense: “Yes, there have been hypocrites in our church; but we’re working on it and we hope you’ll forgive our mistakes.” Sometimes the church apologist uses the humorous defense: “I know the church is full of hypocrites, but there’s always room for one more!” In the end, however, it doesn’t matter how you defend the church: the label of hypocrite sticks like white on rice.
Jesus gives some pretty strong arguments against hypocrites in our reading tonight from the Sermon on the Mount. Hypocrites, according to Jesus, give their offerings loudly. Hypocrites, according to Jesus, pray loudly in public arenas and with lots of flowery words. Hypocrites, according to Jesus, take on spiritual disciplines like fasting with much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Hypocrites are the loud church members, according to Jesus; the kind who need a nameplate on every lightbulb and hymnal, who obsess over whether or not others know how hard they work at their faith, who would never give their opinion in 10 words when 100 will do.
So then, our task this Lent should be avoiding hypocrites, right? If only it were that easy. Let us pray. Father in heaven, we do not come to you as we should this evening, but only as we are able. We come as dust, in desperate need of your Spirit to bring new life into us. Fill us, we pray, with your life-giving breath. As we receive the mark of ashes, remind us that only you can heal our infirmities and forgive our many sins. Repent us of our pride, our envy, our anger, our laziness, our lust, our hunger for that which does not nourish, and our hypocrisy. Turn us again to set our faces on your Son, to remember His journey to the cross and our salvation. Be, as you have promised, gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. In the name of Christ Jesus we pray. Amen.
Jesus does give a fairly detailed description of hypocrites in his words to us tonight. But in the prayer Jesus gives as a remedy for hypocrisy, we find that even if Jesus’ description doesn’t indict us as hypocrites, his prayer certainly does.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” Right off the bat we’re in trouble. We invoke the name of God for all kinds of trivial, meaningless prayers, and in times of genuine need or outright thankfulness, we develop amnesian and are unable to remember who it was who promised us forgiveness and delivered what we need. We are hypocrites because we have been given the name of God and we treat it like God had given us a dead fish.
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Of course, Lord, by that we mean that your kingdom and will should give me everything I desire. Better yet, rescue me from this boring life and bring me into a heaven of my own choosing. Heaven forbid God’s will and kingdom should inconvenience or challenge us. We are hypocrites because we confuse God’s will and kingdom with our own will and our own, personal kingdoms.
“Give us this day our daily bread.” And bread for tomorrow and the day after as well. As a matter of fact, Lord, I don’t care about my neighbor’s daily bread; I want a bigger house and another boat. A snowmobile would be nice, too. We are hypocrites because we take our daily bread for granted and wish for more than we need.
“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” But not that jerk of an ex-husband, Lord – I can’t forgive him just yet. Don’t you remember how he treated me? Besides, he’s never even ASKED for forgiveness! We are hypocrites because we think forgiveness is for the sake of others – forgiveness is for our own well-being, and it is God’s greatest gift to us.
“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” Don’t lead me into temptation, Lord – I can find the way myself just fine, thank you very much. We are hypocrites because we ask God to deliver us from our own irresponsible, ill-considered choices, and from the evil consequences they bring about.
With all of this, it’s easy to see that avoiding hypocrites this Lent will be about as possible as jumping over the moon. The gift of Lent is not a freedom from hypocrites – there’s always room for one more! The gift of Lent is the choices God gives us, and the opportunity we have to turn our lives over to God and be changed by what might happen, even in the midst of our hypocrisy.
We have the choice this Lent to be dismal hypocrites or devoted hypocrites. We can be the kind of hypocrites Jesus describes – the loud, obnoxious, deceitful, miserable hypocrites who have sucked every ounce of vitality and freedom out of their faith and exchanged it for a system of dry prayer, never-ending sacrifice and continual acts of penance. We can slouch every step through Lent, as if our perpetual misery has some kind of saving grace in itself, only to arrive at Easter miserable, despairing and unchanged – as dead as we were on Ash Wednesday.
Or, we can be devoted hypocrites. We can give our offerings in faith, focusing on what God asks of us and nothing more. We can pray in silence, listening for God’s still, small voice and joining that voice in conversation about our needs, our hopes, the needs of our neighbors and our growing trust in God’s peaceful presence. We can forgive sins and actually let them go, freeing ourselves from the burden of anger and grief, letting those who have wronged us find their peace with God in their own time and in their own way. We can dedicate ourselves to spiritual disciplines, but with an eye for how we might be changed in the process. We can take on a fast to rediscover the joy of simplicity; we can give up worldly pleasures to redirect our attention in other areas; we can leave behind any thought that simply suffering without what we want will impress God in the least.
We have lots of choices before us this Lent. The one thing we don’t have a choice about is our status as hypocrites. We will be marked as such tonight: as dead in our hypocrisy as we are in our other sins. But that’s not the focus this Lent – the focus is our growth in faith and our trust that if God loves sinners, we’ve been called to the right place. After all, saying we aren’t sinful would be, dare I say it, hypocritical.
Pastor Luke Bouman wrote a wonderful Ash Wednesday sermon a few years ago that I still read occasionally, not only because he quotes Paul Simon, but also because he closes with these incredible words:
We are called to rediscover who we are as God’s people. We are called to face our fears and our failures with courage and dignity, relying on God’s love and mercy. We are called to be God’s children. God does not need us to hear the words of confession that come out of our broken human spirits and our sin. We need to speak these words as a reminder to ourselves of our link with our human past…Lent marks again the earnest journey home for us, God’s flock. Wear your brand in humility, but never in shame, for it is the obvious reminder of God’s love and claim on you.[1]
May you be a devoted hypocrite this Lenten season, and may God use these forty days to change and transform you in new life for the sake of Christ our Savior. Amen.
[1] Rev. Dr. Luke Bouman, Tree of Life Lutheran Church, Conroe, TX.
http://www.predigten.uni-goettingen.de/archiv-7/050209-2-e.html
Your Deadly Sins |
Sloth: 60% |
Greed: 20% |
Wrath: 20% |
Envy: 0% |
Gluttony: 0% |
Lust: 0% |
Pride: 0% |
Chance You'll Go to Hell: 14% |
You will die with your hand down your underwear, watching Star Trek. |
You scored as Neo orthodox. You are neo-orthodox. You reject the human-centredness and scepticism of liberal theology, but neither do you go to the other extreme and make the Bible the central issue for faith. You believe that Christ is God's most important revelation to humanity, and the Trinity is hugely important in your theology. The Bible is also important because it points us to the revelation of Christ. You are influenced by Karl Barth and P T Forsyth.
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Preaching Texts: Exodus 34.29-35; 2nd Corinthians 3.12-4.2; Luke 9.28-36
The movie Sweet Home Alabama is a favorite in the Johnson household. The basic plot is this: Reese Witherspoon is engaged to marry the son of the mayor of New York City, but before she can get married, she needs to finalize her divorce from her childhood sweetheart in Alabama. She returns home and finds that she hasn’t quite cut all the ties to her former life as she thought she had done. Hilarity, heartbreak and, of course, true love combine to form the rest of the story.
I was thinking of this movie while I was studying this week’s readings from scripture. The childhood sweethearts fall in love by sharing a kiss in a rainstorm at age 10, just after lightning strikes nearby. Years later, lightning strikes again when Reese Witherspoon’s character realizes that she still has deep feelings for this man, and her feelings intensify when she discovers who he really has become in their years of separation. It seems that her soon-to-be-ex-husband, who appears to only be concerned with fixing his airplane and enjoying a beer on the front porch, has developed a thriving artist’s studio in a nearby city. This revelation shocks the both of them and redirects the course of the entire movie.
What does it mean to see people in a new light? Someone once said that character is what is revealed when no one is watching – is that true? How are we supposed to take people at “face value” when no one is actually revealing who they are? How do we find the kind of people we can trust with who we really are? How do we find the strength to reveal our true selves to those people? When will the day come when we can truly live with unveiled faces? Who will bring that day about? Let us pray.
God, we thank you for ways in which we encounter you day to day. We thank you when we see your love shining in the smile of a friend, or the sweetness of a baby’s laugh. We praise you when an embrace from a loved one reflects your love for us. In prayer, in quiet moments captured in the midst of busy days, and in the most unexpected ways – you meet us as we are. We thank you God for these glimpses of holiness and for the sustaining power they bring to the nurture of our faith. Strengthen us as we seek to live the faith we proclaim, and help us to bring the light of your love into the lives of everyone we meet. In the name of Christ we pray, Amen.
Moses had a problem. His problem wasn’t God – it wasn’t Moses – it wasn’t the environment or a lack of food or the Egyptian army or bricks to be made without straw. Moses’ problem was, as usual, the people of Israel. Moses had been speaking with God on the mountaintop, but the people weren’t concerned with that – what concerned the people was the way those conversations changed Moses’ appearance. When Moses would return from his conversations with the Lord on the mountain, his skin would be radiant – shining with the light of the Holy, reflecting the glory of God. Moses had no idea this was happening – he was unaware of how his conversations with God were changing his appearance. But the people were afraid – afraid of the sight of Moses, afraid of being so close to the Holiness of God, afraid to see what contact with their deliverer would do to a person. What if they were called up to the mountain themselves?
Moses didn’t want the people to forget that his commission to them was from God, not just from Moses himself, so Moses would let that shining face radiate the glory of God while Moses revealed the Law to the Israelites. After their meetings, Moses would veil his face for the sake of the people – but not permanently. When Moses spoke with God, Moses spoke without the veil – revealing himself to God and allowing God’s presence to fill his face with light again. Then Moses would let that light shine while he spoke to the people.
It must have been shocking for the people to see Moses, filled with the light of the glory of God and shining so fiercely. They had known Moses as an 84 year-old fugitive shepherd, who hid from the Egyptians until God called him to lead the people out of Egypt. Now this aged prophet was climbing mountains, shrouded in fog and lightning, conversing with God and returning with revelations about how the Israelites were to live under God’s protection and guidance. How would you ever look at Moses without seeing that light, even when Moses wore a veil to hide it? How would you ever think that Moses was just another Israelite?
1300 years later, another man who would deliver people from bondage climbed a mountain to speak with the God the Creator. But this man didn’t go alone – he brought with him three fishermen who had questions about his identity, his teachings and his purpose for himself and for his followers. You can imagine that climbing a mountain in ancient Palestine, with sandals on your feet and robes on your back, would leave you dusty, sweaty and out of breath by the time you finally reached the highest peak. But when Peter, James and John got to the top of the mountain with Jesus, they saw a wondrous thing. Their dirty, dusty, sweaty Teacher, who had caught his breath and was praying, began to be transformed. The drab brown robes slowly gave way to dazzling white. The dirt and sweat and muck disappeared, burned away by a radiance so bright they had to shield their eyes against it. Finally, they saw with Jesus two figures, Moses and Elijah, talking about another exodus – this one an exodus from the people’s bondage to sin and death into the freedom of forgiveness.
Do you think Peter, James and John were as shocked as the Israelites had been, seeing their leader unveiled and radiant as the sun? Do you think they trembled with fear and wonder? Do you think they held their breath in anticipation, to hear what Jesus would say when his conversation with Moses and Elijah was completed? Nope – they were falling asleep, unaware of what was about to be revealed to them. Such is the strength and power of our attempts to climb to the mountaintop by ourselves.
BUT – a revelation did occur. The light of Christ did shine for Peter, James and John to see. The unveiled face of Jesus was revealed to them and they saw Jesus in all his glory and radiance. Peter, James and John were privy to a moment that changed the destiny of God’s creation: they spent time on the mountaintop with the holy Son of God, and they were changed forever by the sight of Jesus in this new light. The fact that we are here today to listen to this story shows how they were changed and how they began to reflect the radiance of Christ in themselves, much as Moses reflected the radiance of God when he came down off the mountain in the wilderness.
But what does this mean for us? After all, we haven’t been on the mountain with Jesus, have we? We certainly haven’t walked up Sinai with Moses and come down with shining faces, have we? What does it mean for us today, Transfiguration Sunday, to see the unveiled face of God?
Well, I told myself I wasn’t going to do any more baby illustrations in my sermons for a while, but this one came to me from Irv Arnquist, so it’s really not my own. You, however, will have to suffer through it anyway. It seems that infants, especially newborns, have a very limited range of vision for the first few months of their lives: around 18 inches at the most. So if you were to ask a newborn what Mommy and Daddy look like, and they had the language to do so, they would describe Mommy and Daddy from the neck up. That face is the only thing they know of Mommy and Daddy for the first few months of their lives, and hopefully, that face is beaming with love and joy. Children develop their relationship with their parents very early – they learn to mimic what they see in Mommy and Daddy’s face, so if they see smiles, they learn smiles. If they see joy, they learn joy. But most of all, if they see that unveiled face as one they can trust, a face that comforts them when they cry, changes them when they are dirty and feeds them when they are hungry, they learn that the unveiled faces of Mommy and Daddy are good, that those unveiled faces are filled with the light of love, comfort, trust and safety. And the child learns to unveil their own face as well – to be confident enough to express need and love and joy to the face of Mommy & Daddy.
In the same way, the unveiled face of God in Jesus Christ is meant to do the same thing for us. When the radiant light of Jesus was revealed to Peter, James and John, they heard a voice from heaven: “This is my Son, my Chosen: listen to him!” The voice from heaven said that Jesus’ unveiled face radiated the light of heaven itself, and that his voice carried the weight and impact of heaven itself. As an infant learns to trust the radiant, unveiled face of a good parent, so Peter, James and John were to trust the radiant, unveiled face of God in Jesus, the Christ, God’s only begotten Son.
So Peter, James and John brought the radiance of God with them when they came down off the mountain. It wasn’t the same as Moses coming down from Sinai; in fact, the radiance planted in Peter, James, John and the other disciples took time to grow, and it also took time for people to be able to see it. But in time, with the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection and the commissioning of the church to reflect the light of Christ into the world, the radiance of Christ began to fill the church, and they began to see each other in a new light. A few years after Jesus’ death, the apostle Paul wrote that “all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed in to the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord; the Spirit.” As the church began to see the light of Christ in each other, it grew in trust and hope and love and learned to live with unveiled faces – to reflect the light of Christ all the better.
Today, we are called to do the same. Paul said that “if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” Our benediction reminds us that “the Lord’s face shines upon us and is gracious to us.” What we’ve known of each other in our daily life is not nearly as important as what we know of each other in Christ and how we see in each other the unveiled face of God, radiant with love, hope and trust. The glory of Jesus on the mountaintop is about God revealing Himself in Jesus, and the glory of our own unveiled faces is about God revealing Himself in us to a world shrouded in darkness. In Christ we have been given the light of the world – let it shine before others, that they may see our good works and glorify the unveiled face of our Father in heaven. In Christ we pray, Amen.
reverendmother here... It seems like this topic has been done before, but I can't find it in the archives, so......1. What is one place you make sure to take out-of-town guests when they visit? (you can be vague to preserve your anonymity if you like) I make sure I get them to a show at Roosevelt Hall, home to our very own Prairie Wind Players.
I am downtown on retreat this week. Most of the retreatants are from out of town, so I get to experience this place through the eyes of visitors. So in the spirit of tourism:
1. Who was your best friend? Me, Bill & Scott were pretty inseparable back then.
2. What sports did you play? Football & Track
3. What kind of car did you drive? 1977 Buick LeSabre
4. It's Friday night, where were you? Driving said LeSabre up & down
5. Were you a party animal? Nope - didn't even know where the parties were!
6. Were you considered a flirt? Uh, not even a little.
7. Ever skip school? Just to run down to Kratke's for pizza at lunch.
9. Were you in any clubs? We didn't really have any.
10. Suspended? Nope. (Who's writing this meme? JDs R Us?)
11. Can you sing the fight song?
12. Who was your favorite teacher? Hard to say. Looking back I think Ms. Boeshart, probably, though Mr. Peterson was great, too.
13. What was your favorite class? English, but Band if counting extracurriculars
14. What was your school's full name? Wakefield Public Schools
15. School mascot? The Trojans. No costumed mascot: just my friends Bill & Matt in their football jerseys and cheerleader skirts (BIG cheerleader skirts) and pom-poms for basketball games.
16. Did you go to dances? Every last one of them. Sometimes I even had a date.
17. If you could go back and do it over again, would you? Not without being who I am today.
18. What do you remember most about graduation? Standing on a chair in the library with my final report card, screaming about the "C" I earned in Civics and saying "I don't give a damn!"
19. Favorite memory of your Senior Year? Earning first chair first trombone in the All-State Honor Band, and getting to play in multiple honor bands with my best friends.
20. Were you ever posted up on the senior wall? Didn't have one.
22. Where did you go most often for lunch? Lunchroom.
23. Have you gained weight since high school? Yeah, but I lost it all, too - I can still wear my letter jacket! (much to my wife's chagrin...)
24. What did you do after graduation? University of Nebraska-Lincoln, first as a Music major, then Classics with a minor in music.
25. When did you graduate? 1992
26. Where are most of your classmates? Spread out all over the country. My best friends are in
27. Did you have a high school sweetheart? Had a huge crush on a girl from
28. Have you changed since? Does Benedict XVI wear Prada shoes?
29. Have you been to your high school since you graduated? Yes, but not for at least five years.