July Culture Update

When I finished Cryptonomicon a few weeks ago, I swore I wouldn't read another big thick Neal Stephenson book.  I loved Snow Crash & The Diamond Age but I really struggled with Cryptonomicon.  Then Amazon offered Quicksilver cheap on audio & Kindle - paired together it would be less than the cost of a paperback copy.  Guess who's now sailing toward England on the Minerva with Daniel Waterhouse and Captain van Hoek?  I'm happy to say I more or less get where this one is going a little better, and frankly it's a little more humorous as well.  Seems more tightly focused than Cryptonomicon was.  The sheer number of characters gets a little overwhelming at times, but thankfully the reader for the audio version is excellent at creating distinct accents for all of the characters.  I've never listened to Jim Dale doing the Harry Potter series, but I would imagine Simon Prebble is a close second if what I'm hearing now is true.  I'm also trying to finish Evensong by Gail Godwin before it's due back at the library.  She knows pastoral ministry in and out, even if the novel itself gets a little clunky and the main characters are incredibly high church Episcopalians.  It's good stuff.  Just yesterday I checked out Walter Isaacson's Steve Jobs from the library and I'll get into that one as soon as I'm done with Godwin.

Music and the Making of a Pastor

Our local ministerium is doing a series of Lenten Luncheons this year, touring area churches and inviting one another to tell how we became pastors.  Today was my turn.  Here's the story:

There is a text of Paul’s that comes to mind when I think of my faith story.  Philippians 3.5-6:  “If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more:  circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.”  In many ways you could tell my faith story in this way:  “If anyone has reason to be confident in midwestern European Lutheranism, I have more:  a member of the people of Sweden, and also of a tribe of Missouri Synod Germans, a Johnson born of Johnsons; as to the farm, a native son; as to zeal for all things Cornhusker, a fanatic within the state religion; as to righteousness under the lutefisk, blameless.”  I’m a farmer’s son going back four generations in my hometown, baptized and confirmed at the same church my great-great-grandparents joined when they emigrated from Sweden in the late 1800s.  My mother’s family emigrated from Germany in the early 1900s and my uncles still live on the farm they owned seventy-odd years ago.  I grew up walking beans.  I’ve harvested Rocky Mountain Oysters.  I know what it’s like to stack straw bales in the loft of your barn and blow brown snot for the rest of the week.  I can put a fence together made up of rusted gates and baling wire.  I know how to hook a manure spreader to a tractor and spread fertilizer.  In many ways I could not be a more stereotypical midwestern farm boy.  But that is not the whole story of my faith, and frankly, I'll bet it's not the whole story for any of you, either.  

A Gathering of Spirits, A Flashlight, And A Talk With Larry

Oh, Larry - I thought of you often tonight.  And I really wish you were here.

Sermon for Easter Evening - "Ever Walk With Me, Lord."

Preaching Texts

On the third day, after he’d risen from the dead, Jesus…took a walk. 

Familiar Voices

I subscribe to the Writer's Almanac - you should go sign up before reading the rest of this.  Go ahead - I'll wait.  

Wednesday Evening Prayer: God's Beloved, "Pride and Joy"

Hebrew script for Song of Solomon 6.3:   "My Beloved is mine, and I am his."

I’ve complained long and loud about the lousy sort of praise music that we call “Jesus is my Boyfriend” music.  In fact, my colleague Nadia Bolz-Weber tweeted the lyrics to one of those songs the other day:  “"I'm Special", "I'm special because God has loved me, for He gave the best thing that He had to save me: His own Son Jesus , crucified to take the blame, for all the bad things I have done. Thank you Jesus, thank you Lord for loving me so much; I know I don't deserve anything, help me feel Your love right now, to know deep in my heart that I'm your special friend" #barf

At the same time, I’ve been intrigued by the fact that we cheat God’s passion when we throw the baby out with the bathwater here.  I do think God can’t stand those sappy love songs – but I also think God is a passionate, jealous lover who hates it when people mistreat God’s beloved.  Unfortunately, we tend to lump all that love over onto Jesus most of the time, which isn’t fair, and frankly isn’t even right, because if the Old Testament is any indication, God the Creator loves every bit as passionately as Jesus.  Listen to this, for instance:

For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent,
   and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest,
until her vindication shines out like the dawn,
   and her salvation like a burning torch. 
² The nations shall see your vindication,
   and all the kings your glory;
and you shall be called by a new name
   that the mouth of the Lord will give. 
³ You shall be a crown of beauty in the hand of the Lord,
   and a royal diadem in the hand of your God. 
⁴ You shall no more be termed Forsaken,^*
   and your land shall no more be termed Desolate;^*
but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her,^*
   and your land Married;^*
for the Lord delights in you,
   and your land shall be married. 
⁵ For as a young man marries a young woman,
   so shall your builder^* marry you,
and as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,
   so shall your God rejoice over you. 

            Isaiah 62.1-5

God is obviously worked up about God’s beloved people – and we often miss it entirely.  My Old Testament professor Terry Fretheim wrote,

“Attributes such as love, compassion and mercy, accompanied by acts of healing, forgiving, and redeeming, tend to become narrowly associated with Jesus, while the less palatable attributes and actions of holiness, wrath, power and justice are ascribed only to God.  What tends to fill the mind is God as Giver of the Law and Judge of all the earth.  If God is not the cause of all the ills in the world, God is still seen as the one who is to blame for not really doing anything about them.  It is the goodness of God that is ignored, not the goodness of Jesus.  One can almost hear someone say: ‘If only Jesus were here, he would do something about all our troubles!’  People often seem to have a view which suggests that Jesus is friend and God is enemy.  An understanding of the atonement gets twisted so that Jesus is seen as the one who came to save us from God." The Suffering of God (c) 1984, Fortress Press.  p. 2

Leaving the sappy music aside, God the Creator loves you.  God the Father gets worked up when you get mistreated.  God the Giver of all good things is deeply concerned for your welfare.  God the Maker has knit you together fearfully and wonderfully.  Dare I say it, you are God’s pride and joy.

 

Sure, this song is about a woman on the surface.  But is there really so much difference between “You mess with her, you’ll see a man get mean” and “I will not rest until her vindication shines out like the dawn?”

There is ample evidence within Holy Scripture that God loves you.  God passionately, recklessly, agonizingly loves you.  Forget the cheesy Jesus music that makes it sound like you have to be on Team Jesus instead of Team Edward or Team Jacob.  Forget it, not just because it’s awful music, but because it cheats God’s love for you – you’re more than a romantic interest as far as God is concerned.  You are God’s delight, God’s pride and joy, and no one can take it away from you.  Amen.

Friday Sermonating

The sermon station at Cafe Milo, Ames, IA.

Spent the afternoon preparing for Sunday.  Good coffee, good reflections from commentaries, websites and *gasp* yours truly.  GREAT conversation prior to teh sermonating in our Theology for Lunch book group:  we're reading Johnny Cash and the Great American Contradiction by Rodney Clapp, and I love it even more the second time around.  Here's a song that was mentioned today:

It's stuff like this that makes my job truly enjoyable.  In some ways this has been a really crappy week:  continued financial fallout from the ELCA budgetary issues, trying to figure out how we can manage our own money better, marriages we thought were good falling apart, and, of course, the never-ending shitstorm that is the upcoming midterm elections.  But the chance to ponder all that God may be up to in the midst of this muck always brings a spring to my step and hope to my heart.  May your weekend be blessed, whatever it entails.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Wednesday Night Prayers - Psalm 90 and "Ants Marching"

Psalm 90

¹Lord, you have ^| been our refuge

            from one generation ^| to another.

²Before the mountains were brought forth, or the land and the ^| earth were born,

            from age to age ^| you are God.

³You turn us back to the ^| dust and say,

            "Turn back, O child- ^| ren of earth."

⁴For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when ^| it is past

            and like a watch ^| in the night;

⁵you sweep them away ^| like a dream,

            they fade away suddenly ^| like the grass:

⁶in the morning it is ^| green and flourishes;

            in the evening it is dried ^| up and withered.

⁷For we are consumed ^| by your anger;

            we are afraid because ^| of your wrath.

⁸Our iniquities you have ^| set before you,

            and our secret sins in the light ^| of your countenance.

⁹When you are angry, all our ^| days are gone;

            we bring our years to an end ^| like a sigh.

¹⁰The span of our life is seventy years, perhaps in strength ^| even eighty;

            yet the sum of them is but labor and sorrow, for they pass away quickly and ^| we are gone.

¹¹Who regards the power ^| of your wrath?

            Who rightly fears your ^| indignation?

¹²So teach us to num- ^| ber our days

            that we may apply our ^| hearts to wisdom.

¹³Return, O LORD; how long ^| will you tarry?

            Be gracious ^| to your servants.

¹⁴Satisfy us by your steadfast love ^| in the morning;

            so shall we rejoice and be glad ^| all our days.

¹⁵Make us glad as many days as you af- ^| flicted us

            and as many years as we suf- ^| fered adversity.

¹⁶Show your ser- ^| vants your works,

            and your splendor ^| to their children.

¹⁷May the graciousness of the Lord our God ^| be upon us;

            prosper the work of our hands; pros- ^| per our handiwork.

From Sundays and Seasons.com. Copyright 2010 Augsburg Fortress. All rights reserved.

Reprinted by permission under Augsburg Fortress Liturgies Annual License #20449.

Driving home from the gym tonight, my oldest daughter asked, "Daddy, where are all these cars going?"  I said, "Well, honey, some are coming home from work, and some are going to work.  Some are going to the gym, and some are going to church.  I don't know where all of them are going, kiddo - they're going lots of places."  

It made me think of the song "Ants Marching" by Dave Matthews Band.  "He wakes up in the morning - does his teeth, bite to eat and he's rolling - never changes a thing - the week ends the week begins..."  I've always understood the song as a call to awareness, a call to recognize that every day is a precious gift from God, even the ones in which it feels like nothing extraordinary happens.  

The psalmist writes:  "The span of our life is seventy years, maybe eighty, but they are marked with hard toil, they fly by and then we're gone...teach us to number our days so we might apply our hearts to wisdom."  How have you marked today?  Take a minute and name one thing that made today different, even if it seems like an insignificant little difference.  It can be pleasant, or painful - what God wants for us is the thing for which the psalmist asks:  awareness, perspective, the sense that, even on the most ordinary of days, things of consequence are taking place.  

In his book The Great Divorce, C. S. Lewis describes heaven as a place in which reality is so overwhelming that it is painful.  Those who are unaware of where they are and what power has brought them hide in their grey lives, unwilling or unable to experience the reality around them in all its depth and power.  They are so insubstantial the grass feels as hard as diamonds and they can't even disturb the delicate morning dew.  Could the ants marching in Dave Matthews' song be so different?

You're going lots of places.  Some of you are just getting started, some of you are looking at graduation as soon as this December.  The prayer of the psalmist is not for power, or strength, or vindication:  the psalmist's prayer is for wisdom, understanding, and the chance to spend the day working on God's behalf.  In the end, that's a pretty substantial reality in which to live.  

Keeping the Main Thing the Main Thing

Had a moment with Ainsley on the way to Pre-school the other morning.

It started when it was time to get ready to leave, but she wanted to keep watching the Sesame Street episode we'd called up from the DVR. (Put this one under the "Problems my parents didn't have" column) As sometimes happens with toddlers, hearing "No." brought tears. She cried all the way upstairs. Cried when I asked her to put her flip-flops away and get shoes (no flip-flops at Pre-school). Cried when I brushed her hair. Cried when I put the barrettes in her hair, even though I used the Princess ones. Cried when I opened the door (she wanted to open it, and I was rapidly losing my patience and just walked out of the house with Alanna, who promptly hit me in the eye). Cried for the first mile of the car ride to pre-school. And I didn't care one little bit.

I'll admit it - I was frustrated and emotional. Part of me knows how important some measure of control is for a growing child, and how much it hurts when you don't get something you think is really important. I remember that sense of childish frustration very, very well, and knowing that I'm standing where my parents once stood for me doesn't help matters much. But every little tantrum meant another couple of minutes late for pre-school, and we had lots to do at home and work this week.

Here's the thing, though: by the time we'd driven five minutes, the crying was done. I asked Ainsley what she wanted to listen to, and she said, "Storyhill, please - the ghost song." "The Ghost Song" is "Give Up The Ghost" from their self-titled release on Red House Records:

Some of you who've been reading for a while know that Ainsley has a pre-birth connection to Storyhill. I don't know if that's a contributing factor recently or not, but I do know this: for all that we love Storyhill ourselves, the connection with our kids is even more wonderful. It adds another dimension to the music we already love. So when the song started, I looked into the rear-view mirror, saw my little girls smiling, heard Ainsley starting to sing along, and nearly had to pull over for wanting to cry at how rude I'd been to my kids.

By the time we got to pre-school, all was well. We had listened to "Give Up The Ghost," "Paradise Lost" and "Highlight," and the girls were all smiles. I dropped them off, with hugs and kisses from both before I left, and headed off to work. When I picked them up that afternoon, they were overjoyed to see me, and when we all went to the waterpark later that afternoon, we splashed and giggled and played and loved on each other a whole bunch.

The Gospel reading for this week is Jesus' encounter with Mary and Martha in Bethany, where Jesus reminds Martha, "Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her." It's not that Martha chooses things that are evil or even unimportant; Martha knows, rightly, that there are tasks in every time and place which need doing. But Mary has grasped the main thing, and has her priorities in order. Martha needs re-ordering so that she might receive what Jesus has to give, which can never be taken away from her. Martha, like me, needs to be reminded to keep the main thing the main thing.

Sure, we'll be late to pre-school sometimes. Life does that. I could benefit from remembering that for a three-year old girl, opening doors and getting to pick out your own clothes are far more important, and sometimes it might do me well as a parent to let her go to pre-school in whatever hideous ensemble she's selected, because it really isn't that important right now. I need to be reminded, as I was that morning, that the love I bear for these little girls is far, far more important than running absolutely on time or matching every outfit perfectly. Clothes will come and go. Someday I'll want Ainsley and Alanna to open doors for me because I won't be able to do it for myself. But the love between us? That can't ever go away - and I'm glad to have been reminded to chose the better part.

Grace & peace,

Scott

Friday Five: Staving Off the Gloom

Let me start by saying how much there is in my life for which I’m thankful. I have a beautiful, wonderful, incredible wife who continues to bless and surprise me in many, many ways. I am the father of two adorable girls who fill me with joy on a daily basis. Sometimes hourly, even. I’m the called pastor of a campus ministry where I feel as though the gifts God has given me for ministry are a good fit, and I get a lot of satisfaction from the work entrusted to me. And I love winter – snow, cold, ice; none of those things really bother me as much as some (and no, that’s not a judgment on those who dislike winter: I’m only saying I’m not one of them).

All that having been said, the 2009-2010 winter has been, for lack of a better word, pretty rough. Some of it I can’t share here. But between lack of sleep, lack of exercise, poor diet, lack of focus and the daily struggle to be a good father, the word for the winter is "frustrated." So this week’s Friday Five is a good one to use as an opportunity to take stock, and I hope you don’t mind if I do it with you all listening in.

From Sally, then:

Candlemas is past, and Christmas is well and truly over; here in the UK February looks set to be its usual grey and cold self. Signs of spring are yet to emerge; if like me you long for them perhaps you need ways to get through these long dark days. So lets share a few tips for a cold and rainy/ snowy day....

1. Exercise, what do you do if you can't face getting out into the cold and damp?

One thing I’ve really enjoyed this winter is our spin class. Holy cow, there’s nothing like pushing your body to the limit over the course of 45 minutes or so. Even on bad days, I still feel as though all the sweat and burning legs are worth the while, and of course it’s easy on the joints. The fact that we’ve become friends with a couple of our class leaders is nice as well, although we do keep one of them in our prayers as she begins a fight against cancer.

At the same time, I’m disappointed with myself for not running regularly, and I think it’s beginning to affect Jack as well. One of the reasons we got Jack, of course, was so I’d have a partner for my runs, but between excessive snow, schedules with the kids, lack of quality sleep and ennui due to some of the unbloggable stuff, my mileage has plummeted since August or so. I had hopes of doing a marathon this coming summer, but I need to kick it in the butt if I’m going to make that a reality. And Jack could definitely use the time outside as well.

2. Food; time to comfort eat, or time to prepare your body for the coming spring/summer?

I’ve eaten like crap this winter. Too much fast food, too many M&Ms, not enough fruits & veggies. It’s odd: when I went through the divorce, I lost my appetite completely, to the point of losing about 40-50 lbs in the course of three or four months. This time, with the emotional turmoil we’re experiencing, all I want to do is scarf down fast food burgers and pizza. What’s up with that? Here’s hoping that starting a garden this spring will bring about the dietary change I need.

3. Brainpower; do you like me need to stave off depression, if so how do you do it?

I’m not entirely sure about this, but I think the mild depression for which I’ve been taking an anti-depressant might have intensified this year, or at least this winter. Reading is a struggle, which will shock most of you who’ve known me over the years. But I just can’t focus, and I feel as though I can’t even think properly these days. I miss appointments and drop to-dos far too often. A good portion of the time I feel like a dunder-headed ninnymuggins, and that ain’t good. We'll see how things change come spring, and if they do, then maybe it's time to look into ways to handle Seasonal Affective Disorder or something like it. And, of course, if I could think more clearly there'd be more to offer here as well - so if your particular neurosis includes an affinity for what I've got to say, you could pray I get this figured out, eh?

4. How about a story that lifts your spirits, is there a book or film that you return to to stave off the gloom?

This makes me wonder – maybe it’s my reading choices that are driving my ennui? I’ve been spending a lot of time with The Sandman series by Neil Gaiman, and if he weren’t the personification of Dream, I’d say that Morpheus would be the personification of Depression instead. Perhaps I need to get away from him for a while.

We’ve been watching Friday Night Lights on DirecTV, and even though every episode is a gut-wrenching emotional roller coaster that never ceases to make us sick to our stomachs, watching Eric and Tammi Taylor manage all the stress while maintaining the absolute bedrock solidity of their marriage is truly inspiring. I said it on Facebook yesterday: the fact that this show is not in NBC’s rotation is proof positive that if their executives were any dumber they’d need to be watered once a week. (God bless you, Molly Ivins, and I can't wait to meet you in heaven - I have a feeling we'll get along fabulously.)

5. Looking forward, do you have a favourite spring flower/ is there something that says spring is here more than anything else?

I always watch for the hostas to break the surface. It happens early, of course, but I love playing in the dirt, and seeing green shooting out of last year’s stalks tells me that it’s almost time to break out my pruning shears and shovel and get ready for some fun.

Bonus; post a poem/ piece of music that points to the coming spring...

Copland captured it pretty well:

ps: Please don’t take this as a ‘woe is me’ post – reread the first paragraph if that is how this sounds. I might compare the present moment to mile 21 of a marathon: painful, slow, and filled with questions, but I continue to move forward and, most importantly, I’m trying to find the joy in the race. That second wind is bound to come along one of these days, right? Life is good, friends, because it is a gift from the Giver, with all its complexities and questions. We trust the God who gives life more than the life itself.

Grace & peace,

Scott

2009: The Year in Review via RevGalBlogPals

Having left the charger to the MacBook behind while on holiday this week, I'm only four days behind on thinking about 2009 in review. Well, thinking publicly, that is. It was a crazy year, for sure.

It's not much of a stretch to say that there are times I resonate quite strongly with this song from Mary Poppins, which currently resides at the top of Alanna's Disney hit parade:



It would be lovely to live like this. But, alas, like Mr. Banks, my life is not so simple. In fact, upon reflection, the year more properly resembles this:



You know, minus the dead Nazis and such. Also, I didn't get shot. But it was definitely more crazy than predictable.

Last Friday's Friday Five at RevGals was about 2009 moving into 2010. Here's my answers.

1. What will you gladly leave behind in 2009?
Two children in diapers. Ainsley is mostly potty-trained at this point, with just nights to go, and she's doing great. I can't tell you how happy I am to be minimizing my daily contact with poo.

2. What is the biggest challenge of 2010 for you?
Living more purposefully. As any regular reader of this blog has noted, posting has become less frequent and of a lower quality, and that's been a snapshot of the year in real life as well. I make no resolutions for 2010 other than this: to live more in the place I am, in the moments around me, and to refine my use of Facebook et al so that it becomes a tool for connecting and not a crutch for living.

3. Is there anything that you simply need to hand to God and say "all will be well, for you are with me"?
Our financial situation. There's a strong possibility that Beloved's call as Family and Youth Ministry Director at our congregation will be terminated in May because right now the deficit between the 2009 budget and projected 2010 giving is so large it's impossible to ignore. We are making changes in our lives to prepare for the worst while hoping things work out for the best.

4. If you could only achieve one thing in 2010 what would it be?
Get my eating and exercise under control and weigh 200 lbs by the end of the year (I'm currently hovering between 225 and 230). Thankfully, I managed to hold off the holiday bulge, but I didn't lose anything, either. I want to be a sub-4:00 marathoner, and that's not going to happen unless I get serious about losing the weight and hitting the pavement. Plus, Jack has turned into a great running partner and I want to continue that bonding time with him.

5. Post a picture, poem or song that sums up your prayer for the year ahead....
You've seen it here before, but it's worth hearing again: "Steady On" by our favorite singers, Storyhill:



I might add that getting to a Storyhill concert in 2010 would be pretty sweet, too.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Mourning, Reading, Watching, Listening

Renowned composer and organist Paul Manz died last week of cancer. He was a wonderful gift to the church and a man of great dignity and grace. In 1999, I had the distinct pleasure of singing his best known work, "E'en So, Lord Jesus, Quickly Come" under Manz' own baton for a service of lessons and carols for Advent with the choir of Gloria Dei Lutheran Church in St. Paul, Minnesota, where his son, John, was on the pastoral staff. What I remember of the experience was the absolute clarity, focus and musicianship he brought to the ensemble. And, of course, he blessed us by sitting down to the organ for a hymn or two. His death is a great loss to music as a whole, and Lutheran music in particular. Here's the best version of "E'en So, Lord Jesus, Quickly Come" I could find via YouTube. I think I may have posted this before, but it's worth another listen if you've got the time:



Let's see - other stuff.

Having finished Trinity by Leon Uris, I'm now well into the sequel, Redemption. Calling it a sequel is a bit much to this point: in a rather bizarre fashion, Uris used Redemption to flesh out some of the story from Trinity, telling stories we've already heard from other characters' perspectives and so on. It's still good writing, but the constant "haven't I read this before?" gets a bit dreary. Thankfully, we're drawing near to the end of the retelling, and there's a lot of book to go, so I'm expecting the remainder to pick up quite a bit.

I'm really excited for tonight's premiere of the new "V" on ABC. Even cooler, SciFi (no, I will NOT use their new version - it's not spelled "Scyence Fyction," you morons) has been rebroadcasting the original miniseries and episodes. Since Alanna is home with a fever today, we spent a few hours watching the original miniseries this morning. Ah, childhood memories. And the show itself is surprisingly good. Decent effects for TV at that time, and not nearly as clunky as I expected it to be. And what other miniseries had Freddy Kruger as a bumbling alien?

After using his song "Holy Now" for my sermon on Sunday, I've been listening to a lot of Peter Mayer this week. This would be the Peter Mayer who does NOT play lead guitar with Jimmy Buffett, although that Peter Mayer is cool, too (and Lutheran! The Jimmy Buffett one, that is.). So, here's another Peter Mayer tune, "Molly O'Malley's" Enjoy.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Sermon for All Saints Day - "On Sainthood"

Preaching Texts

What is a saint?

Would you consider Lazarus a saint? He’s listed among the commemorations our church observes, according to the list in Evangelical Lutheran Worship. On July 29^th, we remember Lazarus and his sisters Mary and Martha, all three of whom figure large in the gospel of John. So the ‘official’ word from the church is that, yes, Lazarus is a saint, as are Mary and Martha. But what do we know of Lazarus that would suggest he is a saint? The Roman Catholic church believes Lazarus, Mary and Martha wound up in Provence, France, and that Lazarus was the first Bishop of Marseille. The Eastern Orthodox church believes Lazarus lived in Cyprus and became the first Bishop of a city called Larnaka. But folks, there are a LOT of bishops in the church, and a great many of them accomplished deeds worthy of commemorations, but the ‘official’ commemorations don’t list very many of them. So if Lazarus is a saint, it isn’t because of the quality of his ministry, whether it was in Cyprus, France or anywhere else.

Now, of course, the traditional answer would be that Lazarus is a saint because he has gone in to the rest of death and waits, like all the beloved dead, for the day when God will fulfill God’s promises about heaven and earth. But here’s the thing: even though Lazarus occupies a special place in the history of the church, that place has not been given to him because of his great works of faith. There are plenty of people who also rest in the sleep of death whose accomplishments have far outstripped Lazarus – wouldn’t we want to consider them saints as well?

No, it seems that Lazarus is not a saint because of who he was or what he did. And he’s not a saint for being dead. So, then, why would we consider Lazarus a saint? The only answer that remains is this: Lazarus was raised from the dead and set free by Jesus. No work of his own to celebrate, no death in which to hide any longer: Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha, unremarkable resident of Bethany, is a saint for this one reason: Jesus called him out of death and set him free into life. And if that’s the definition of sainthood, then it isn’t just Lazarus who’s dealing with a new world: you and I will find things changed as well.

A saint is someone who has been raised and set free into new life in Jesus Christ. Period. Don’t believe me? The New Testament is filled to overflowing with words about the ordinary saints God has called into being:

· Second Peter 2.9-10: “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people,^* in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light. ¹⁰Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

· Acts 9.32-35: ³²Now as Peter went here and there among all the believers, he came down also to the saints living in Lydda. ³³There he found a man named Aeneas, who had been bedridden for eight years, for he was paralyzed. ³⁴Peter said to him, “Aeneas, Jesus Christ heals you; get up and make your bed!” And immediately he got up. ³⁵And all the residents of Lydda and Sharon saw him and turned to the Lord.

· Ephesians 2.19: ¹⁹So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, ²⁰built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. ²¹In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; ²²in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.

· Paul’s letters to the Romans, Corinthians, Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians all begin with some variation of this phrase: Paul, an apostle, to those called to be saints: Grace and peace to you from God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.

What if sainthood isn’t something you earn, and it isn’t what you become after death? What is being a saint is a matter of right here, right now? Peter and Paul and the other writers of the New Testament are unified in this belief: we are saints now, in this life, because in his own resurrection Jesus has broken heaven into our world and started, already, the remaking of all creation into the glorious reign of God. And if this is true, then everything changes for us, doesn’t it? The whole world is different as a result. Everything matters a whole lot more.

C.S. Lewis wrote a book called The Great Divorce, in which he described a picture of life after death. Everyone lives in a grey city, where everything seems washed out and used up, lifeless and drab. But for some reason, there’s a bus that takes people to a place filled with vibrant, terrible life, with huge beasts that cavort and romp around them, where everything is so solid and real that the grass cuts the feet of those who are newly arrived. Some of the folks are terrified in this new place and clamber back onto the bus, going back to the drab world because they can’t stand the reality of the new world. But others come to see that it is themselves who must be changed, and as that happens the new world becomes a place of wonder and delight. I’ve loved this story for years, but I wonder: why would Lewis write it as though it were only after death that it happens? I think that sainthood, in this world, is much the same: terrifying at the start for the vibrancy and depth with which we begin to see the world, but in time, wondrous and beautiful, deeper and wider and more achingly real than we could ever imagine.

I started writing this sermon Friday morning at Café Diem, where I was also waiting to see my daughters come trick-or-treating with their day care groups. It was the first trick-or-treat for Alanna, and the first time Ainsley picked out her own costume, and I wanted to see it happen. There in the coffee house, writing my sermon and waiting for what was to come, it occurred to me that this is really what the life of sainthood is all about. We live in this world, where there is much work to do, work that matters a great deal. Yet we also live with an eye toward the future, knowing that at some point, God will reveal the full creation as it is meant to be, and we will rejoice with gladness as a result. Understanding sainthood doesn’t make this world less important: as God’s saints, we are given new eyes with which to see the world, eyes that recognize the wonder and beauty in the simplest, most ordinary things.

We celebrate the saints today, living and dead. In a few minutes we’ll remember those who have gone before us into death, not necessarily because of their great deeds, but because of the great love with which they lived in our lives. Conversation over a cup of coffee; hugs and kisses at bedtime; shared meals and laughter and tears and prayers: these are the signs of sainthood as much as any miracle, if not more so. And having lived among the saints, we begin to realize that every moment is holy, that life itself is God’s first great gift to the saints. Here in this place, as we remember the baptism that brought us into the community of the saints, as we share the meal where Christ is present for all the saints, the curtain between heaven and earth is pulled back and we see that to be a saint is to know, in this moment, that heaven is breaking into this world. Hear now, in this moment, that you are God’s saints, raised out of death and set free in the holy creation of God, now and forever. Amen.

Holy Now

When I was a boy, each week
On Sunday, we would go to church
And pay attention to the priest
He would read the holy word
And consecrate the holy bread
And everyone would kneel and bow
Today the only difference is
Everything is holy now
Everything, everything
Everything is holy now

When I was in Sunday school
We would learn about the time
Moses split the sea in two
Jesus made the water wine
And I remember feeling sad
That miracles don’t happen still
But now I can’t keep track
‘Cause everything’s a miracle
Everything, Everything
Everything’s a miracle

Wine from water is not so small
But an even better magic trick
Is that anything is here at all
So the challenging thing becomes
Not to look for miracles
But finding where there isn’t one

When holy water was rare at best
It barely wet my fingertips
But now I have to hold my breath
Like I’m swimming in a sea of it
It used to be a world half there
Heaven’s second rate hand-me-down
But I walk it with a reverent air
‘Cause everything is holy now
Everything, everything
Everything is holy now

Read a questioning child’s face
And say it’s not a testament
That’d be very hard to say
See another new morning come
And say it’s not a sacrament
I tell you that it can’t be done

This morning, outside I stood
And saw a little red-winged bird
Shining like a burning bush
Singing like a scripture verse
It made me want to bow my head
I remember when church let out
How things have changed since then
Everything is holy now
It used to be a world half-there
Heaven’s second rate hand-me-down
But I walk it with a reverent air
‘Cause everything is holy now

Rainy Monday Road Trip

It's a rainy, grey day here in Ames. As I drove the girls to their day care this morning, I thought more than once that it felt as though I were in Ireland again (luckily, I kept my American head enough to stay on the right side of the road).

The thing I love about Ireland - indeed, most of Europe that I've seen - is the way the density of the population leads to a near-bewildering web of roads. Beloved and I discovered this on our Germany honeymoon. Landing in Frankfurt, we set off for Bamberg, thinking it would be an easy two-hour drive on the Autobahn. Unfortunately, our directions were American-style: " take A3-A4-A7, etc." Works great in the American midwest, where you can travel for hours on one road and never vary more than a point or two off the compass direction along which you started. But an hour after leaving Frankfurt, we were lost. Hopelessly lost. Off the map, no idea where we are lost. Looking back, it's hilarious, but at the moment it was more than a little stressful. We learned that planning car trips in Europe means going to towns, not along routes, as in "Rothenburg to Oberdachstetten to Hainklingen to Ammerndorf to Oberasbach to Nurnberg." More or less. Of course, in some cases, the freeways are faster, and you can somewhat direct yourself via routes if you like. But we found that finding our way around Germany by map and town was far simpler AND far, far more scenic and rewarding. Winding your Peugot around those little roads, driving through towns where every house has windowboxes full of flowers in bloom - these are the off-the-track joys of travel in unfamiliar places.

So, consider this post a chance to check out some unfamiliar territory, courtesy of your friendly travel guide. Here are some links worthy of your attention.

• Jan takes on an issue that has long been a concern for me - church loneliness.
• Tripp offers a far better sermon than the one I preached yesterday morning.
• Milton is thinking lyrically.
• HotCup had a holy moment in the hospital recently.
• Megan was not so incapacitated by the H1N1 virus that she couldn't offer a post about all of the cool stuff she's been doing lately. Including preaching, in her first year of her first call, to what must have seemed the whole Lutheran fam-damily at the ELCA Churchwide Assembly.

I think that'll do for today. Hoping to have an original post worth contemplating tomorrow. For now, you've got your directions - enjoy the open road.

Grace & peace,
Scott

My Life According to Storyhill

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to 15 people you like and include me. You can't use the band I used. Try not to repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think! Repost as "my life according to (band name)"

Pick your Artist:
Storyhill

Are you a male or female:
Happy Man

Describe yourself:
Old Sea Captain

How do you feel:
Somewhere In Between

Describe where you currently live:
Satisfied Land

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Boulder River

Your favorite form of transportation:
Hard Wind

Your best friend is:
All I Need

You and your best friends are:
Parallel Lives

What's the weather like:
Good Rain

Favorite time of day:
After Dark

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Give Up The Ghost

What is life to you:
The Things I Love

Your last relationship:
Paradise Lost

Why Bother?
Love Will Find You

Your fear:
Worst Enemy

What is the best advice you have to give:
Let The Wind Come In

Thought for the Day:
Open Up Your Eyes

How I would like to die:
Blazing Out Of Sight

My soul's present condition:
Steady On

My motto:
Honesty

Pop Culture Roundup

Yesterday morning I finished Rodney Clapp's excellent book Johnny Cash and the Great American Contradiction: Christianity and the Battle for the Soul of a Nation. I quoted it a few weeks ago, but even though it's a fairly slim volume, I've delayed finishing it because it's not the sort of book you read just before falling to sleep. As a matter of fact, I'd say it's a book you read if you really want to wake up, especially Clapp's arguments against what he calls "democracy for infants." It reads a little differently after the 2008 Presidential election - some of the extreme partisanship and knee-jerk jingoism Clapp critiques is beginning to be stamped out. Some, but by no means all, unfortunately. *sigh*

Johnny Cash has become a source of fascination for me over the past few years. (As an aside, I've come to love both Rich Mullins and Johnny Cash just before their deaths; I hope in this case that things really don't come in threes...) When I was a kid, Cash was just another stack of records in the cabinet at home; I was too young and too arrogant to appreciate the beauty and simplicity of Cash's music (even though it was Johnny Cash who gave my Dad's beloved Statler Brothers their big break). And, as Clapp notes, the man himself was a giant of American music who embodied the many contradictions that lie at the center of American life. It is this life that leads all of these pictures to be true pictures of the man:





At the very least, I've learned more about being an American by paying more attention to Johnny Cash over the past few years.

Beloved and I sat down to watch The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian last night. I was surprised at how little I liked the movie. There was a pervasive sense of ethical and moral development in the first installment of the Chronicles, and I guess I was expecting more of the same here, but it played far more like a generic medieval battle epic. I think I'm going to need to read the book again to see if it's true to Lewis' prose, or if this is a case of moviemakers ruining a good book (see The Seeker and Eragon, unfortunately - two wonderful fantasy tales that incompetents turned into dreadful movies).

This morning I started a new book: So Brave, Young and Handsome by Minnesotan Leif Enger. Five pages in I was absolutely hooked - it was acutely painful to close the book and come to work. I loved his first novel, Peace Like A River, and I have the feeling this one is going to be even better.

And, of course, yesterday marked the end of my three week obsession with the Tour de France. (made even more obsessive by our DVR, which allows me to watch the entire daily stage broadcast. I think Kristin's tired of watching men pedal bicycles in tights) I was so proud of Lance Armstrong for his strong ride, and I can't wait to see what he does next season as the leader of his new Radio Shack team. I love the insider stuff about the Tour as well: knowing who's leading in the sprint points competition, the King of the Mountains, the national champions from the various countries, watching the unwritten rules of the peloton play out over the course of the three week grand tour. Alberto Contador was a worthy champion this year, but something tells me next year will be a great showdown between Contador, Armstrong, Bradley Wiggins and the Schleck brothers, Andy and Frank.

Well, that's the roundup for today, and thanks to Coffeepastor for the idea. See you soon.

Grace & peace,
Scott