Yesterday I heard so-called "news" (for the 6th or 8th time) that the Recession will be deeper and longer than originally expected. While I value the need for factual reporting of economic news, I doubt that a prolonged emphasis on negative details is healthy. Bad news will still be there, whether we repeat it or not. Repeating may serve less to inform, than to remind us to be discouraged, or fretful, or depressed.
Will our future be built on worry that our shortcomings will lead to our failure, or on hope that our strengths will outlast adversity? Reports of negative news will not cease, but we can remind ourselves to be hopeful, as we focus on positive things that do not change: our assets of talent, resolve, and innovation; and the shared energy of love and community.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Reluctant Redemption
During the Christian season of Lent, a scriptural resource that forms a central theme is Psalm 51. It seems that the psalmist has been looking into our business as he writes, "I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me," and "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." This psalm remains one of the most popular, during Lent and throughout the year, because it expresses humankind's timeless hope of salvation.
But do we truly accept the Easter gift: the supreme atonement offered for us by Christ, in fulfillment of that hope? Christ's sacrifice for sin was made once and for all, still we inflict on ourselves the weight of judgment and the burden of guilt. We suspect that eternal damnation is waiting for us based on every word of gossip that we speak. We fear that we may have to wait in line for eternal life while St. Peter reviews every time we cut someone off in traffic. We continually say, "I was bad," to describe everything from eating a piece of cake to spending too much money on our clothes.
We find it hard to escape the images of a God of wrath lying in wait for us to make mistakes, lightening bolt in one hand and express ticket to eternal fire in the other. We acknowledge our unworthiness and our undeserving, without moving on to accept the mercy, love, and grace of Jesus' taking our place. If God can forget our sins, why can't we?
God decided we were worth saving, not as a reward for our goodness, rather as an investment in our greatness. Not that one of us is greater than another, rather that we all are children of God, and God sees in every one of us the potential to create in us, with us, and through us something truly great. Right now God is using someone's talent to create a composition of art or music; moving a small group to design an offering of worship that leads others to Christ; activating in a young woman the compassionate listening that delivers friends from despair; moving the heart of a believer to a moment of praise and prayer.
Just as we confess our sins, those breaks in our relationship with God, how about listing among them our reluctance to claim the life of promise that Christ's atonement makes possible? Let this Lenten season be a time of repentance and also of real renewal – of claiming with Christ the path that leads to God's creation of new life for all.
But do we truly accept the Easter gift: the supreme atonement offered for us by Christ, in fulfillment of that hope? Christ's sacrifice for sin was made once and for all, still we inflict on ourselves the weight of judgment and the burden of guilt. We suspect that eternal damnation is waiting for us based on every word of gossip that we speak. We fear that we may have to wait in line for eternal life while St. Peter reviews every time we cut someone off in traffic. We continually say, "I was bad," to describe everything from eating a piece of cake to spending too much money on our clothes.
We find it hard to escape the images of a God of wrath lying in wait for us to make mistakes, lightening bolt in one hand and express ticket to eternal fire in the other. We acknowledge our unworthiness and our undeserving, without moving on to accept the mercy, love, and grace of Jesus' taking our place. If God can forget our sins, why can't we?
God decided we were worth saving, not as a reward for our goodness, rather as an investment in our greatness. Not that one of us is greater than another, rather that we all are children of God, and God sees in every one of us the potential to create in us, with us, and through us something truly great. Right now God is using someone's talent to create a composition of art or music; moving a small group to design an offering of worship that leads others to Christ; activating in a young woman the compassionate listening that delivers friends from despair; moving the heart of a believer to a moment of praise and prayer.
Just as we confess our sins, those breaks in our relationship with God, how about listing among them our reluctance to claim the life of promise that Christ's atonement makes possible? Let this Lenten season be a time of repentance and also of real renewal – of claiming with Christ the path that leads to God's creation of new life for all.
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Friday, March 20, 2009
Over our heads
Overheard on a plane in 1995: "You start getting money, then you start living the money, then the money's got YOU."
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Grounds for Separation
In the current swirl of turmoil that has so many people whipped into a lather, or just plain whipped, why focus on worry over the latest dire predictions? Why not separate from the hysteria of the mainstream?
Focus instead on what has not changed: the constancy of God; the wonder of creation; the opportunities for service; the abundance of new chances at survival that come with living one more moment.
The French roots of the word survive (sur + vivre) mean to "live over." Isn't that what we all want, to transcend mundane fear and step over the paralyzing quicksand of despair? I think so.
Focus instead on what has not changed: the constancy of God; the wonder of creation; the opportunities for service; the abundance of new chances at survival that come with living one more moment.
The French roots of the word survive (sur + vivre) mean to "live over." Isn't that what we all want, to transcend mundane fear and step over the paralyzing quicksand of despair? I think so.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
This Lent, don't just give up, take on!
During the Lenten season that starts this Wednesday, why not take on a meaningful discipline that will enrich your daily life and may continue to do so beyond the 40 days plus Sundays? Here are a few suggestions:
*For the idea of going "on a diet from negative thoughts," thanks to the great metaphysical writer Louise L. Hay.
- Make a list of people and places, events and things that are important to you, and focus on one entry each day in prayer. (You'll need 46 items to cover Ash Wednesday through Holy Saturday.) Possible sources: your address book; Christmas cards received last year; your church directory; photos on your shelves or computer; your e-mail contact list; favorite cities and vacation spots; colleagues and merchants with whom you do business; friends and mentors from the past; in-laws and neighbors; your friends' parents; your parents' friends.....
- Before each Sunday, read and meditate on the appointed lectionary readings. At church, notice how the elements of the service – music, sermon, and prayers – carry out the theme. Perhaps write a few notes in your worship bulletin to remind you of your impressions. After church, find some time to reflect, noting topics you'd like to research or discuss. A great resource is http://divinity.library.vanderbilt.edu/lectionary/
- Get a blank book or a stack of large index cards. (An inexpensive spiral-bound children's sketch book works perfectly.) At the close of each day, divide one page into four quadrants: draw one line down the center vertically, and one across the center horizontally. Using the four sections, list something you experienced or achieved that day from each of these four categories:
1) something I gave to or did for another;
2) something I learned or created;
3) a gift or blessing I received;
4) a concern I release to God.
You may choose to write more or less, as time and inspiration dictate. - Go on a diet from negative thoughts.* Fill your mind instead with positive affirmations, either through Bible verses or your own words. Write such useful phrases on eye-appealing cards, and keep them in a small basket on your desk or wherever you often could use some "redirection."
- Just as you address God with thanks and praise before you offer your humble petitions, begin with a word of praise or thanks before any time you offer someone a word of critique or revision. Continue this discipline beyond Lent, forever.
- Forgive, forgive, forgive. Forgive others for wrongdoing against you, both blatant and perceived. Forgive people for not fulfilling the ideals you've projected onto them. Forgive yourself for letting yourself down. Forgive, forgive, forgive. By all means, don't shy away from standing up for yourself wherever you can work for a just resolution. But after hurts and slights have long since turned into lingering, crippling baggage, let it go. If God can pour salvation onto our broken world, why must we persist in passing sentence? Take a break from the judgement seat and accept your role as an agent of God's healing grace.
*For the idea of going "on a diet from negative thoughts," thanks to the great metaphysical writer Louise L. Hay.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Bridge Out
What a wild ride the past few weeks have been. My computer crashed, cutting off my usual command center. At the same time, an old friend, lately out of touch but eternally dear at heart and permanently iconic in my life story, died suddenly at age 53. It's as though the expected bridge from a few weeks ago to now was washed out and I've taken a detour, one day's walk at a time.
Isn't this what we all do? Even at the times when we presume to plan our days and weeks, even when the auto-pilot of ordinary days suffices to take us from morning to night and back again, an infinity of variables is at play. In the words of a wonderful old speech, we walk in ways we know not. We take a step and seek guidance, take another step and thank God for being sustained. In an environment where our own vision is inadequate, faith reaches forward to grip the opposite cliff.
On Wednesday we'll enter the season of Lent, a time weighed down with traditions of moping along to the tune of a dismal dirge, and of sacrificially giving things up for the 40 days, often replacing them with a pitiful air of deprivation instead of an intensely private discipline of self-denial. It's easy to end up resenting the whole experience.
I prefer instead to address Lent as a journey. On a broad scale, it's a time to take a step and give thanks, take another step and seek guidance, reach beyond ourselves to grasp with faith something beyond our vision.
Isn't this what we all do? Even at the times when we presume to plan our days and weeks, even when the auto-pilot of ordinary days suffices to take us from morning to night and back again, an infinity of variables is at play. In the words of a wonderful old speech, we walk in ways we know not. We take a step and seek guidance, take another step and thank God for being sustained. In an environment where our own vision is inadequate, faith reaches forward to grip the opposite cliff.
On Wednesday we'll enter the season of Lent, a time weighed down with traditions of moping along to the tune of a dismal dirge, and of sacrificially giving things up for the 40 days, often replacing them with a pitiful air of deprivation instead of an intensely private discipline of self-denial. It's easy to end up resenting the whole experience.
I prefer instead to address Lent as a journey. On a broad scale, it's a time to take a step and give thanks, take another step and seek guidance, reach beyond ourselves to grasp with faith something beyond our vision.
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