Something is Terribly Wrong with Normal: An Advent Sermon

The other day a friend asked, “What is wrong with the people in Alabama?” (This after hearing the majority of white women voted for Moore, many of whom believed the allegations.) My immediate response was, “The people in Alabama are normal. The real question is how do any of us rise above it?”

And honestly it irks me that a majority of white women in the USA voted a self-confessed sexual predator into the White House and are fine with that, while they are horrified at the idea of trans women using their bathrooms. But the truth, whether I like it or not, is that sexual predators are the norm, while trans people are abnormal.

The reason the #metoo hashtag was so upsetting to so many people was that it called out normal behavior as bad. “How can what my cousin have experienced be sexual harassment or assault when my father and brother behave like that?” Normal people would rather keep the term sexual assault limited to particularly heinous cases and especially to those cases where the perpetrator is a complete stranger that can be villainized as not normal.

And the reason I bring all this up is that Christians are not supposed to be normal. Normal people call what other normal people do Christian, while anyone who has truly heard the words of Christ would do nothing of the sort. We are called to die to living a normal life. We are called to rise above it.

John was hardly normal. And when asked, John didn’t claim to be the Messiah or Elijah or even a prophet, John only claimed to be able to recognize Christ. Neither was Christ normal, in fact Mark tells us he was so abnormal that his family wanted to hide him away.

Perhaps in that moment Mary, due to pressure from the people in her family who aspired to normalcy, forgot what she said while she was pregnant with Jesus. Back then she was sure of God’s intention. That God was going to manifest within the lowliest of People, and that magnificence and glory would no longer belong to the normal people.

Even John, when he was in jail, wondered if he recognized Jesus correctly. He sent his followers to ask Jesus “what’s up?” Jesus answers, “The good news is preached to the poor.” I’d like to note that poor is not considered normal.

I recently saw a film that took place in an inner city black neighborhood, and when the main character was called poor, he immediately responded with, “I give clothes to the Salvation Army, people who are poor don’t do that.” This line exposed many things in the film, including a desire to be thought of as normal, even when one isn’t.

And that, my friends, is why we need to die to all this. We need to die to the idea of ever being thought of as normal again. To actually live as God intends for us to live, will be seen as craziness, will be reviled, will embarrass our families, and much of that will simply be because we don’t keep quiet about how horrible it is to be normal.

So many people I know who embody the life God wants for us, whether Christian or not, will be dealing with racist, sexist, misogynistic, “socially conservative” family members over the holidays. The older ones will likely keep the peace, because by now they know their speaking truth will result in useless arguments and bitter feelings.

Which is why I have sympathy for Mary and John, perhaps they didn’t think they were wrong about Jesus after all, but after quarreling with family or disciples they no longer tried to stop them from attempting to censor the abnormal Christ. They did these things, however before Christ died on the cross. The death we entered into when we were baptized.

As I mentioned in my last sermon, Christian death is something akin to Buddhist detachment. Detachment gets a bad reputation I think, because so many Westerners use it as an excuse to cut themselves off from their emotions. I don’t believe that is the real meaning of detachment, and certainly not what I mean by Christian death.

Christian death is willingness to be the wierdo who recognizes Christ. Like John, we admit there’s something wrong with normal and are willing to help other people who know something is wrong. And hopefully they will recognize Christ too, though the point is certainly not to make more Christians. The point is to bring about the Kingdom of God, a little bit at a time.

And there will be times when the better option is to keep our mouth shut than to have a useless conversation with normal people. After all Jesus tells us not to cast our pearls before swine. However, I do know how much turmoil that can cause. I know how our hearts burn to tell the uncomfortable truth.

I’m suggesting that Christian detachment is a way to calm the turmoil. It’s a way to love our enemies. We step back and remember we’re not normal. We've already died. How can they hurt us when we’re already dead? We may have righteous anger burning within us, but let’s let the Holy Spirit guide us in when and how to express it. It belongs to God as we belong to God. We are Christ’s mother and brothers and sisters.

Text: 

• First reading
  • Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11
• Psalm
  • Luke 1:46b-55
• Second reading
  • 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
• Gospel
  • John 1:6-8, 19-28

First Advent

Isaiah laments that God has hidden, and because the great miracles of old are no longer seen, the people sin. Even then it had been a long time since God had drowned a whole army for the chosen people. It’s been even longer now. And as tempting as it is to hope for God to smite our enemies, God doesn’t do that kind of thing anymore.

The psalmist laments that those who worship God look like fools because God’s face is not known; pleading for the shine of God’s face. This God did, but in a way that looked even more foolish to their scornful enemies. For the incarnation came humble and vulnerable and the Glory God revealed was the Glory of the crucifixion.

Paul says that the Corinthians wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. Perhaps, they, as many Christians do today, await the end times expecting some grand miracle, as unmistakable as drowning Pharaoh’s army; a grand gesture that will prove our faith to the scornful. 

Our Gospel tonight is in answer to Peter, Andrew, James and John, who asked Jesus in private when the end times will come. Jesus’ answer is far less clear than we, or perhaps even they would have liked. Jesus unmistakably refers to the destruction of the Temple. He seems to indicate that the Son of Man will gather the elite soon afterwards. However He then admits even He doesn’t know when this will happen.

What is clear here and elsewhere in the Gospels, is that His followers are expected to live as if He is returning at all times. And this is not just for Peter, Andrew, John and James. What I say to you, I say to all: “Keep Awake!” Like many things Jesus says, there’s a both/and aspect to this. The Kingdom is to come, yet it is already here. Jesus does reveal himself again and again to many in visions or epiphanies, and to all of us every time we celebrate the Eucharist. Yet if we are not alert, we can miss his revelation.

As for the coming tribulation and the fear that Peter, Andrew, John & James betrayed in wanting to know when it is. I’d like us to recall that in Larry’s sermon a few weeks back, he reminded us of Paul’s conviction that we are buried with Jesus by baptism into death. That death has come and gone for us, we are as already dead, and we walk in the newness of life with the risen Christ. That to live a Christian life is to live a life as if you were already dead.

What this reminded me of was a true story of a Buddhist nun who went up a mountain to live in a cave until she achieved enlightenment. When she started her descent, indicating that she had achieved enlightenment, a crowd gathered to ask her questions. One asked, “Do you still have a personality?” “Yes,” she said, “I do. I just don’t believe in it anymore.”

To live as if you’re already dead is not to end our daily chores and routines. We’ll still make dinner and pay bills. What we’re getting at here is a Christian detachment. We’ll be exploring this more as we journey through the coming Church seasons. For now, I’d like to mention that even the most enlightened person sometimes falls into believing their personality. That as we go through our daily live and tasks, it will be easy for us to forget we’re already dead. And we can miss Christ’s continuing self-revelation. And so we need to keep awake.

In Mark’s Gospel these are Jesus’ last words of instruction. The rest is narration of the passion ending in the empty tomb. Mark (before the additional ending added later) ends with the women running from the tomb too afraid to say anything. Mark never describes the resurrected Jesus. And so Jesus’ last instruction to all according to Mark is: “keep Awake.”

Advent is a both/and season. We await entering into the sacred time of the incarnation and we await the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. Like the inner circle of the twelve it is so tempting to want specifics from Jesus. Like the chosen of old, we want a big show. Vigilance is tiring. Yet God has proven to be subtle. God tends to reveal in the unexpected. Christ tells us to look for him in the lowly, the suffering – even in our own suffering. As we enter this advent season, we, like Marks’ community, stand at the empty tomb, and remember Jesus’ voice saying, “Keep Awake.”

21 Pentecost

Let’s talk about love.

Here’s what Paul has to say: Love is patient; kind; doesn’t envy, isn’t arrogant or rude. Love doesn’t say my way or the highway, isn’t irritable or resentful; doesn’t celebrate wrongs, rejoices in the truth. Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. And never ends.

I don’t know any human that actually behaves like all that 100% of the time to their loved ones. In fact the longer you’re in a relationship; the harder it is to be this way even most of the time. I know people really who try, but they are often co-dependent and co-dependents mostly fall down on the resentment part.

This is a pretty impossible standard, and so of course we are all sinners, if sin means not living up to this. It is in fact what we confess to every service except during Easter.

Of course these are the words of Paul not of Jesus. I never get the impression that Jesus wants us to be co-dependent. I mean if Paul’s words are what Jesus meant when he said love your enemy, he might as well ask us to flap our arms and fly.

And yes when he says love your enemies he said to be perfect as God is perfect. However on another occasion when the disciples say, that is impossible! Jesus replies with, “For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.”

You see, I think the trick here is to remember we’re to let God love through us, not that we’re to strive to love perfectly before God approves of us; because we can’t and God can. God is love and when Paul describes love, he’s describing God.

Before we go further, I think I should get around to mentioning the text we read tonight. There’s one thing in the text that always puzzled me. Does Jesus assume we love ourselves?

I mean, to be honest, it’s a common assumption. It’s also one of the reasons most philosophies and ethics never quite satisfy me. They don’t account for the self-destructive and self-sabotaging impulse within us. Some few writers do acknowledge it. Poe calls it the imp of the perverse. Kierkegaard calls it angst.

I honestly believe the entire human race is fundamentally suicidal. I mean how else can you possibly explain climate change deniers; Or the not too far off possibility of nuclear winter? Self-preservation is not a safe assumption to base any philosophy on, much less self-love.

Can you be patient with yourself; kind to yourself; not rude to yourself? Can you not should all over yourself? Not be irritable or resentful of yourself? Can you not wallow in your own wrongdoing? Can you bear all of you, believe in all of you? Have hopes for yourself? Endure all aspect of yourself?

God does. God counts every hair on your head; no narcissist even does that. I think people get it wrong when they say a narcissist loves themselves. It’s more of an obsession with oneself. It could even be rooted in lack of true love for oneself.

Someone once told me that a crush was just you seeing your best qualities in another person. But how many people have felt that way about themselves alone? How many people actually delight in themselves?

When I was trying to figure out how to love my enemies, I did try a technique I learned from Buddhists where you first think of someone who delights you, and then keep hold of that feeling and think about the person who you hate. It’s actually a pretty good exercise.

Now think of doing that with yourself. When a friend made this suggestion to me I honestly recoiled. “That feels incestuous!,” I said. But I think my recoil was really about was that I was taught that the second commandment really said, “Love you neighbor instead of yourself.”

What I did end up doing is imagining God feeling that way about me. And of course, God does. Knowing that God delights in you and actually trying to experience it are two different things, though.

Now more than ever people are asking, how do we live a Christian life?  I believe the fundamental starting point is letting God love you. You could try the exercise I just mentioned, or try others. The point is to cultivate that sense of God’s love in ways that work for you.  From there, loving God back and loving others flow. 

19 Pentecost

“What a horrible parable! This is the (quote) Old Testament (unquote) God, not the God of Jesus!” I’ve heard many people say that, and while, like many who say this, I probably fall into the category of liberal Christian, I can’t at all agree with the folks who say that.

It’s certainly possible that people say this in response to parable being used to justify a lot of harm in Christian churches. It’s been used to justify who is in and who is out gatekeeping. It’s been used to threaten people with hell. It’s been used to suppress people with purity nonsense. I have no patience for any of those interpretations, either.

So let’s look closely at this parable from a different point of view; a point of view that recognizes that Jesus does not present a different God than the God of Jewish scripture. Much of what Jesus says actually is direct from Jewish scripture. And that God is a God of love and mercy.

We tend to think of love as sentimental. It is not always so. The King in this parable is clearly not sentimental. He does not spare people from the consequences of their actions. I will argue, though, that he is loving in that he invited the good and the bad to an extravagant wedding feast.

I’m surprised at how many people think the King killed all the people who refused his invitation. He didn’t. He only killed the murderers who killed his messengers. Yet this conclusion was jumped to time and time again in a Bible study I was at despite being reminded again and again what the text actually said.

Now to a conclusion I jumped to when reading this parable in light of the Gentile controversy. The invited were the chosen people who didn’t hear Jesus and the good and the bad included the gentile Christians. Now I didn’t see this as triumphalism, because I see the gentile controversy as a story about accepting the outsiders and the impure. Clearly others see it as we gentiles have the goods and the Jews lost out.

Of course, though, my assumption was corrected when I remembered that Matthew’s community was a Jewish community, not a gentile one. This is likely more a story of inclusion or exclusion of Christ’s Jewish followers who would not have even called themselves Christians. Matthew’s Jesus was angriest at the scribes and Pharisees, so there’s something there, no doubt, whether or not the expulsion from the synagogues is true.

The most puzzling thing for me was the question of what the wedding garment was all about. It’s clearly not about good or bad behavior, because both the good and the bad are invited but only one person was ejected due to not wearing a wedding garment. 

I’ve seen commentaries that suggest wedding garments were provided, so the man refused to put it on. Other commentaries suggest that there’s no evidence of that, however a wedding garment merely means clothes that were cleaned. Personally I don’t think the wedding garment has anything to do with proper attire.

It’s hard for me to not think of the garment given at Baptism that we’re to make sure is “unstained.” However that leads to thoughts about only the baptized are chosen. Which could be the case, but I don’t like that idea. Nonetheless, I offer it as a likely interpretation.

Even if that is the case though, I do NOT believe the chosen in this parable are the ones going to heaven when they die. When Jesus speaks of the Kingdom of Heaven he is speaking of how God wants this world to be. He’s trying to get people to think outside the norms of human society and imagine a better world. And THAT is the banquet.

I think when we hear this parable it’s too easy to try to think about what the king is doing and not what the people are doing. And I think we do that a whole lot. Leave things up to God. God is good and merciful; God will take care of things.

I think this is a parable about ways people can refuse an invitation. There are the people who don’t show up, there are the people who respond with violence, and there are the people who show up but refuse to participate.

You don’t have to be a Christian. Some of the folks who declined just went about their business normally. If you do choose to accept the invitation, though, there are demands made on you. The yoke may be easy, but it is a yoke.

Remember that in Matthew’s last judgement no one is asked about their purity, the good and the bad are invited alike. No, the yoke is about easing suffering in this world.  It’s about loving God and each other. In many ways that’s easier than following 613 commandments, certainly less of a burden in the sense of policing purity. But it is a very demanding commandment, one as a Christian we are obligated to do our best to follow.

Sermon for the Seventh Sunday After Pentecost.

This is a difficult sermon for me to write. My initial instinct was to talk about either how parables aren’t meant to have a pat explanation despite the pat explanation the Gospel gives us, or to use the sparing of the weeds to talk about God’s mercy. But honestly either of those approaches began to seem to me like ignoring the elephant in the living room which is the final judgement and what I believe to be the common but false interpretation of the furnace of fire.

The furnace of fire is not Hell, or certainly not the Hell that’s commonly understood. I don’t believe Christ ever actually talked about a place where souls would be tortured for all time. He did, however, talk about a fire that would destroy the soul permanently.

Part of the struggle for me in writing this sermon is that my denomination is Universalist in its theology. We proclaim that everyone is saved. And there are passages in Paul’s letters that can be interpreted that way. And while, if I just follow my heart, Universalism rings true. Yet I have had to come to the conclusion that if true, it must be a later revelation. The more I read the Gospels I’m left with the certainty that Jesus definitely said that not everyone is spared the fire.

And so in my sermon tonight, I’m not going to make the argument for my denomination’s theology, but rather speak the Gospel message of Jesus as I best understand it. I’m a bit conflicted about this, because in a one on one pastoral situation, I’d go with my heart’s sense of truth. In a sermon though, I feel the call to speak to what I believe Jesus’ actually said.

In order to understand what Jesus meant by the furnace of fire in his explanation of this parable, we need to read this in the context of what he said elsewhere. For example, Matthew 10:28 [F]ear the One who can destroy both soul and body in Gehenna. Gehenna being the word that is commonly translated into Hell. In the Hebrew Bible, Gehenna was where some of the kings of Judah sacrificed their children by fire. It was thought to be cursed. Jewish Rabbinic literature as well as Islamic scripture name Gehenna as a destination of the wicked. Jesus, in Mark 9:48 describes Gehenna as a place where ‘their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched.’

Now I want to point out the significance of Matthew 10:28, which, when I studied it, was the first passage to start me thinking along the lines of Annihilationism. Annihilationism a the name for those who interpret scripture as saying that after the final judgment some will be totally destroyed or that their consciousness will cease to exist, rather than being punished for ever. Both body and soul will be consumed by the fire, Jesus tells us.

And it only makes sense that Jesus would not contrast the promise of eternal life with hell, if hell was eternal life as well. In most cases where Jesus promises eternal life, he does not qualify it as eternal life in a good place as opposed to a bad place, but offers it in and of itself. For example in Matthew 19:29 Jesus promises that his followers shall inherit eternal life. 

Now in speaking of Annihilationism I’ve gotten two immediate objections from others. The first being the story of Lazarus and the Rich Man. But unless you believe that Heaven is literally resting in the bosom of Abraham, I won’t entertain any argument that this is meant to be an accurate depiction of the afterlife. 

The other objection is the last judgement in Matthew 25. This is the only instance in the entire New Testament where Jesus uses the word eternal to describe punishment. The Annihilationist camp has an argument for this that I find convincing. It has to do with grammar. Without getting to deep into it, essentially in the case of eternal punishment, eternal is an adverb. In the case of eternal life, eternal is an adjective. So the argument is that in the case of punishment, the word eternal means permanent rather than everlasting.

To back up this argument, Annihilationists illustrate the use of eternal as meaning permanent in the letter to the Hebrews, which speaks of “Eternal Redemption” “Eternal Salvation” and “Eternal Inheritance.” None of these refer to something happening over and over again for all time. We aren’t redeemed over and over again, we don’t inherit over and over again, it was all done once and for all on the cross.

It is my sincere belief that Jesus offers eternal life in contrast with permanent death. Our options after the final judgment are to be with God or to face oblivion. Oblivion is certainly a better option than everlasting torment. And so while I believe Hell does not exist, and that has its comforts, it’s not quite universalism. And while universalism rings true for me, I don’t believe we get there from the words of Jesus alone.

So let’s now get to the words of Jesus from tonight’s Gospel. In the explanation of the parable, Jesus doesn’t explain the line: “In gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them.”  The Greek word for weeds here is zizania a word which is thought to mean darnel, a ryegrass which looks a lot like wheat when it’s young growth. In other words, it’s difficult early on to tell which is wheat and which is weed. It seems to me that this aspect of the parable is in line with Jesus telling us that we aren’t to judge, rather that judgement is reserved for God (or God’s messengers in this story.) So ultimately, whether you agree with my argument tonight about the final fate of the wicked, it’s not up to us to decide who is deserving of which fate.

• Genesis 28:10-19a  • 
• Romans 8:12-25  • 
• Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

The Lord's Prayer and the Great Commission: Parallels of Spirituality and Action

It struck me as I was preparing for this sermon that Jesus’ commission to the twelve parallels the Lord’s prayer. Christ tells us to pray for a thing in the Lord’s prayer and then commissions us to act on it in tonight’s Gospel. 

Pray for God’s kingdom come, Jesus says, and I commission you to proclaim that it has become near.

Recent translations have used the reign of God rather than kingdom since the word kingdom has lost that meaning since the Bible was written. Kingdom in the Bible often refers to the time in which a particular ruler was in power, rather than the land or people who are ruled over.

The Israelites rejected God as their King, asking for a human one. Through Samuel, God warned them how a human king would be: He will send your children to war, make them build his weapons, make them work for him, take your best possessions and give it to his servants, he will take portions of your harvest, and you will become his slaves.

Jesus makes it clear to his disciples that they are not to be rulers. You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant.

Jesus, who is now our king, the person of God who has taken on our humanity, who still bears our wounds, tells us over and over that wealth, power and status do not belong in the kingdom of God.

Jesus tells us again and again is that God cares about our suffering. Jesus in fact identifies with the suffering. What you have done for the least you have done for Jesus. Which leads us to…

Pray for God’s will to be done, I commission you to cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.

God’s will is for us to ease suffering. Theodicy is a whole branch of theology that deals with why an all-powerful all-good God would allow evil and suffering. But I’m not going to get into that, because suffering is here, like it or not, whether it makes theological sense or not. There is suffering and we are called upon to ease it.

And if we are to live like Christ, then we shouldn’t consider if someone deserves suffering or if they brought it on themselves. As Paul reminds us in Romans, “For a good person someone might actually dare to die. God proves God’s love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” 

Pray for God to forgive us our sins, as we also have forgiven. You received without payment; give without payment, I commission you to respond to rejection of peace you’ve given, by letting your peace return to you. Shake it off.

Actually to shake the dust from your feet is a rejection back, but I believe letting your peace return to you isn’t. Even as you shake the dust off your sandals, do it with a peaceful heart. Does that sound contradictory? Perhaps but not any more than “Be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.”

That reminds me of a story about a traveling sage who comes across a village terrorized by a great serpent. The sage convinces the serpent of the value of peace, and to stop harming the villagers. The sage on his return journey comes across the serpent who has been attacked and wounded by the villagers seeking revenge. The sage tells her, “I said not to harm them; I didn’t say not to hiss at them.” The way of peace is not a way without conflict. It is a way that includes acknowledging you’re capable of doing harm. We are not commissioned to be doormats.

And not all the places you visit will reject you, laborers deserve their food. Pray for God to give us our daily bread, yet like mana from heaven, only what we need today. I commission you to take nothing with you, depend on the hospitality of others. 

I’ve often run into what seems to me a very odd (and I think very American) definition of self-sufficient. Somehow it’s thought that receiving money from employers or clients is somehow self-sufficient, while receiving money from family, the government, or charitable organizations is not. To my mind, all of the above reflects dependence on others. The labor we deem legitimate still puts us in a position of dependence on employers or clients. 

And of course, we’re all dependent on God for our very lives. The air that we breathe, in fact all that sustains us comes from God. I even believe our very strength to endure the trials of this world is strength we receive from God.

Pray for God to not bring us to the time of trial, yet I commission you to be sheep among wolves. This all starts with Jesus having compassion for the harassed and helpless, who are like sheep without a shepherd. The commission is to remind the sheep that the Lord is their shepherd.  But there are wolves. The wolves want sheep to remain helpless and harassed. Suffering benefits the wolves. The wolves will in fact do everything in their power to stop you from tending to them, easing their suffering and reminding them of their Lord.

In tending to the suffering, you will have to endure suffering yourself. Jesus certainly didn’t avoid it. And God can and will give you the strength to endure. And like Jesus, you will be vindicated. And it will be Jesus whose suffering you ease. Whatever you do for the least of these… The mourning will be comforted, the hungry will be filled, and the pure in heart will see God. And there are emotional rewards. Think of those whose suffering you relieve. Many will bubble over with Joy like Sarah did. "God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me." 

• Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7 and Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19  • 
• Romans 5:1-8  • 
• Matthew 9:35-10:23)

Third Sunday in Easter

Were not our hearts burning within us?

Sad to say I know a few people, myself included, that find it much easier to get into the darker emotions of Lent and Good Friday, than to be lifted up by joy in the Easter season. But perhaps that’s because we associate joy too much with the prevalent social pressure to strive to be happy. Burning hearts to me suggests a different tone of joy. More of an eagerness, a desire.

Which is a more intimate thing that exuberance. And despite the initial volley of words- “Are you the only one who doesn’t know?” “Oh you fools” –todays Gospel story is quite intimate. Not as intimate as last week’s fingers inside a wound intimate, but in a way more remarkable in that Jesus appears to disciples rather than apostles, here. Disciples who were not even in the inner circle enough for them to know Simon by the name Peter.

Their hearts burned as they came to understand that their expectations of the messiah were in error. That victory and glory were in identifying with the victim. That freeing Israel was neither a political or military matter. Then in the breaking of the bread, which we know to be his body, they recognize him.

Then, even though the day was nearly over they went back to Jerusalem to tell the 11 and companions what they saw. They had to share this experience with those who would understand. And it is that kind of sharing - talking to people about a wonderful encounter with God – that will be our overarching topic this Eastertide.

Evangelism is usually talked about more in the spirit of Peter’s rhetorical argument - and look how many numbers came to Christ that day! Remember, though, that Peter was saying something brand new at the time.  I swear every time I get handed a Christian pamphlet on the street I think, “Do you seriously believe I’ve never been exposed to these ideas before?” I really don’t think a primer in Christianity is needed anymore. Not in Chicago anyway. Some ideas about Christianity can and should be corrected, but most folks know the basics by now. And it’s sort of insulting to suggest they don’t.

In part because of the very offensive and in your face evangelism that many people have had to endure, to even talk about evangelism at all makes me bit uncomfortable. Yet, that makes me all too often fail to tell people about what Christ has done for me, or about my relationship with God; a relationship that defines so much of my life. It’s very personal to me.

Now by personal relationship with God, I don’t mean an individual relationship to God. My relationship to God is bound up in relation to others. I rather mean personal in an intimate sense. It’s profound and deep and unique, but not solitary. I have had visions and mystical experiences of God, but they happened in the context of scripture and ritual that have been cultivated for 2000 years. And it is only through sharing with others that I came to better understand these experiences.

As I’ve shared these experiences, I’ve discovered that people who are at very similar places in their spiritual journey that I am have gotten there in different ways. This reminds me of the Hindu concept that there are different paths to God for different people. And in reading about that I was reminded of the five love languages in personal relationships.

The five love languages was developed in marriage counseling (though I think it applies to other relationships) to describe how what one person sees as an expression of love, the other person may seem differently. “Why don’t you ever say you love me?” “I do! I give you presents all the time!” “But you never say the words!”

The five languages are: gift giving, quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service, and physical touch. My love languages are physical touch and quality time. This is why mediation and the sacraments – which are physical – are so important to my connection to God. Some folks I know connect with God much more intellectually, which I equate with words of affirmation. For some of my social justice focused friends, acts of service is their Godly love language.

For God is love. Our relationship to God is a loving one, no matter how we express or cultivate it. And so I ask you, “Where and when do you speak of your earthly love relationships?” How do you talk to people about your partner, your children, your family, your beloved friends, you pets? Aren’t those conversations imitate, or an invitation to intimacy?

Would you tell those same people about your loving relationship with God? At the same times? Why or why not? These questions are what we’ll be exploring in the weeks to come.

Contemplate your love relationship to God, pay attention to your heart. What makes your heart burn? What would make you rush to others to share? What inspires you to have genuine mutual love, to love one another deeply from the heart?

Readings: 

• Acts 2:14a, 36-41 
• 1 Peter 1:17-23 
• Luke 24:13-35