Tag Archives: spirituality

No Middle Ground: Eliminate the “Try” Word

About a year ago, I was introduced to Paleo eating, and removed all wheat and grain products from my diet and most dairy (I’ve long been lactose intolerant anyway).  It was and is a challenging way to eat. It also dropped my blood pressure 30 points, and left me with perfect blood sugar and cholesterol counts (despite intentionally eating a high proportion of saturated fats and a lot of eggs), and reversed what had been a galloping movement toward an auto-immune disease. While I may be facing the possibility of cancer, I’m doing so in a lot better basic health than I had last year.

I’ve invited others to consider eating this way, and pretty well get the same response, “I’d have to give up my favorite foods.  I’d rather just take some drugs (and ignore their cascading and often deadly side-effects) to try to deal with my high blood pressure/high cholesterol/diabetes/auto-immune situation that way so I continue to eat what I want.  I don’t want to give it a try.  Too much trouble.”

One of the leaders of the Paleo eating movement, Robb Wolf, just wrote about trying to convince someone to change to this way of eating. I found his thoughts moving, with multiple parallels to the pastoral life.  The post is here if you want to read it, but do be aware that he is pretty salty with his language.

What struck me the most is his awareness, which is also my own, that no one can convince someone else to change who is disinterested in getting unstuck.  Wolf writes, “I love helping people, I want desperately to get this information out to folks and see them thrive and live a long, productive life. But I will not waste my time on someone unwilling to change.”

A couple of Sundays ago, I encouraged people (and me) to take the word “try” out of our vocabularies and either do what needs to be done, or recognize that we are not going to do it and so there is no need to be fooling ourselves or others.  So when people say, “I will try to be more faithful about church attendance (or prayer or anything else to do with a healthy and vital spiritual life),” I know that nothing will actually happen. The words, “I will try” are a set up for excuses and failure. Either I, and you, will, or we won’t.

Either I will pray today or I won’t.

Either I will offer my life to God to serve the world today or I won’t.

Either I will love my neighbor as myself today, or I won’t.

Either I will recognize that I am a steward of the gifts God has given me and will use them accordingly to open doors to the kingdom of heaven today, or I won’t.

Either I will live as one called by the name “Christian” today or I won’t.

There really isn’t a middle ground here.

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Filed under drugs, food, hypocrisy, nutrients, Paleo

Alone At the Cross

Rev. Frederick Schmidt, who blogs at Patheos, wrote some words in a post about the Archbishop of Canterbury which describe better the challenges of pastoral leadership better than any I’ve seen before.  I’m quoting large parts of his latest post, bolding the sentences that hit me the hardest, because he says so well what I’ve been thinking that I want to make sure I can read these words again the next time I become completely discouraged in my life as pastor:

One, the leadership role of a pastor, priest, bishop, or archbishop (in this case) is different from almost any other leadership role on the face of the earth. Clergy are called upon to provide guidance along the subtle frontiers that lie between where the church has been and where the Holy Spirit might be leading the church. They are called upon to witness to the truth of Gospel, but they are also called upon to provide soul care for those who sin and struggle. As a matter of vocation, as well as conscience, they are required to form their own opinions about God’s truth, but they are keenly aware (or should be) that their view of the truth and the truth itself are not necessarily the same thing. God alone remains God. Their understanding of who God is and what God wants is always fragmentary and fallible.

Two, the institutions that they lead are among the hardest on the face of the earth to shepherd. Participation in the life of the church is entirely voluntary. Its leaders cannot make anyone do anything. They do not enjoy the sanctions available to the state or to employers. There are very few people that they can fire. There is little in the way of sanctions that they can impose on people who dissent from their views of how things ought to be. They rely entirely on suasion—theological and spiritual—to convince people that they should follow.

Three, all of this is done today in an environment that is radically different from the one in which the church operated scarcely a half century ago. Not long ago, largely homogeneous expressions of Christianity lived out their lives in discrete parts of the globe, made decisions that accorded with their understanding of the faith, and did it all with relatively little reaction from other parts of the world. Roll the clock back far enough and there was a time when we knew little about what the church was doing in other parts of the world.

Now people living in Singapore respond to decisions made in the United States within seconds. Just how quickly the environment in which clergy are working has changed is illustrated by simply listing the technology and technological infrastructure that didn’t exist ten years ago, just before Williams assumed his office. Stunningly, the list includes Gmail, Google maps, Facebook, Twitter, iPods, iPhones, and iPads.

Four, along with that close proximity in which we live has come the expectation that the church will change—or not—and a decision must be made now. Gone is the notion that it might be hard to know what God wants and the notion that we are obliged to wait on God. Gone too is the notion that to be a part of the body of Christ is to value its unity as a witness to God’s work through her. Gone is the notion that God’s leading is discerned in community—sometimes far more slowly and painfully than mere mortals might like. Now, we know what we know. We know it for a certainty and we want it now.

To lead this completely volunteer association, where people can and do say, “I’ll never come back to this church as long as (insert name here) is pastor,” often means that we choose to be liked rather than choosing to be holy.  I’m often reminded that Jesus died almost completely alone at the cross.  He did what was right, but no one was happy about it and nearly everyone deserted him.

Just one of those days when I am aware again that I my calling as pastor leads me into waters so challenging that my only recourse is to stay on my knees and pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

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Filed under calling, clergy, leadership, pastor

In Heaven As It Is On Earth

I wish I could get it across that what Jesus lived and taught has almost no relationship with the “hate-ianity” that masquerades as Christianity across the press, airways and religious institutions today.

What should be a grace-infused, fully-life-giving, all-welcomed, heavenly-spaces-opened, mystery-explored, forgiveness and reconnection-enjoyed experience has turned into a “gotta hate gays, gotta vote republican, gotta be sure and send everyone who believes differently to eternal conscious torment” religious charade.

Now, the “gotta-hate” group makes better headlines. And the “gotta send everyone else to hell” mentality makes for tighter cohesive groups where if we are in, we are really in. A kind of emotional security many need comes with that.  The “gotta vote Republican” mindset makes it so much easier to skip the nuances and sub-texts of the political debates and positions, and just take the easier non-thinking stance where we vote as the loudest voices insist.

But, I ask, is this the way we want to live our lives? Is this what we hope eternity with God will look like?

I ask that last question because I suggest we are in the process of creating our own eternity.  Consider the story Jesus told in Luke 16 about the rich man who indulged himself all his life. In so doing, he cared not one bit about the poor one who sat at his gate, ill and barely surviving on food dropped from the rich man’s table. After both of their deaths, the rich man discovered that his eternity mirrored the hellish earthly life of the poor man whom he had ignored. The poor man found comfort and care in eternity denied to him before.

So I wonder . . if the way we live is primarily hateful and exclusive, will our eternity also be the same? After all, if God turns out to be the manifestation of perfect love that willingly gathers in those whom we’ve already deemed unacceptable, then the hate and exclusiveness embedded in our souls would make us loathe to enter a place filled with those we’ve despised so thoroughly.

Many pray daily or weekly (or at least everyone once in a while) these words: “thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

The highest and happiest call of all is to do that kind of “God’s kingdom coming” living and working while on earth.

Assuming at some point you and I have prayed those words, “God’s kingdom come,” the way we live now reveals what we want that kingdom to be like.

Do we routinely denigrate or put down others in order to build up our own position?  Then the heaven we are creating will be a dog-eat-dog world.

Do we grab what we want when we want it without regard to the needs of others? If so, then our heaven will be a place of greed and selfishness.

Do we use anger and intimidation to get our way? Then we would best be prepared to be afraid, even terrified, when stepping into eternity, for fear will be our everlasting companion.

Do we think certain people groups are less worthy than we of privilege and basic human rights?  Then we may find ourselves stepped over and spat upon.

Do we find life adventurous and hopeful?  Then our vistas will expand even further.

Do we celebrate the achievements of others? Then we may enjoy the accolades ourselves.

Do we make into daily habits the practices of patience, kindness, and life-giving light? Then let’s get ready to walk into the light that transforms everything into perfection.

Are we delighted to give forgiving grace to others because we have delighted in receiving that from God?  Then we shall enter into the most transformational of all spaces where lightness of soul gives us an eternity to wander through the heart of God.

That’s what I’m hoping for—and need to live out now.

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Filed under heaven, salvation