Familiar in the Unfamiliar

[The Angels ask Mary]:  “Woman, why are you weeping?”

[Mary] said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”

When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus.

Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?”

Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (Which means Teacher).  John 20: 13b-16 (NRSV)

I was in my fifties before much of the significance of this scene started to really lay claim to my soul.  Every time I explore the scene again, it grows in power, its meaning sharpens a little more. 

Easter, 2018, found me preaching from the Gospel of John and the extract above is part of the common reading for the day.  I will touch on other elements of the scene, but the center piece of the message is how Mary recognizes Jesus through the calling of her name.   

John in his beautiful writing style is looping back earlier in his Gospel where the Good Shepherd says about his sheep: "The sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out" (John 10:3). The Good Shepherd then adds, "I know my own and my own know me" (John 10:14).  Mary is part of his flock, so it should not be surprising that she recognizes the risen Christ when his voice is heard calling her name.

Mary is experiencing the familiar, Jesus, in an unfamiliar place, the garden outside the tomb. 

Because she is a member of Jesus flock, she recognizes Jesus through her called name. 

For Mary, here in this scene, it was the voice of Jesus calling her by name, making the unfamiliar, familiar.  Life is like that, we are able to live and survive in the unfamiliar because of the familiar. 

Sometimes, for some of us, the familiar is television, the older the better.  Remember the television series that started in 1983 and ran till 1992, about a bar in Boston, ‘where everybody knows your name:’ Cheer’s?  Our name is a powerful force to take us to familiarity even in a place of unfamiliarity.   

The familiar is often best understood, experienced, in community.  James Baldwin published in 1961 a collection of essays about the black experience in the United States, under the dark title Nobody Knows My Name.  Baldwin’s title suggests he is haunted by the absence of community, i.e. Nobody.  In comparing Baldwin’s essays with the Gospel of John with community one writer suggests:

When one's name is known and called, one is enfolded in community. When Mary's name was called by the risen Jesus, she was enfolded into the company of heaven, and she recognized the One who now lives directly within and from the life of God.”

That is goosebump:  Jesus is calling Mary into the community of heaven.  In her case, it is a community of the faithful who encounter the risen Jesus.  At this moment in the John biblical narrative, it is a pretty exclusive community:  her.  Be not anxious:  It doesn’t stay that way. 

Do we understand, when Jesus calls us by name, it is a call to community? 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote:  “We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God.”  Are you ready to be interrupted by God? 

Here’s the question: if Jesus calls you by name, would you recognize his voice?’  Here my Bonhoeffer twist is, ‘would you want to recognize his voice?’ 

An industrial size dose of candor would compel many, if not most, to admit we do not truly believe that Jesus will come to us in the garden and call us by name. 

If Jesus does, we will do everything in our power to pretend we don’t recognize the calling voice. 

For many, if not most, recognizing Jesus voice in the garden would scream out for immediate rejection.

Jesus is calling us to disconnect from the preferred familiar, and emerge in a reality so profoundly different, so totally unfamiliar, we cannot imagine it.

At least, we cannot imagine it, until Jesus calls us by name. 

It is important to place ourselves in spaces where we experience and affirm Jesus in our midst.  We do this in hearing “the body of Christ, broken for you”, in the scent of the oil from the candles, in the familiar sound of a favored hymn or anthem that stirs us in places too deep to be named, in the feel of the Bible given to us in love in a confirmation class fifty years ago.  Those are the familiars that help us to live in the unfamiliar and are part of how we hear the voice of Jesus calling our very names.  The unfamiliar for me from 2012 to 2019 included the Rescue Mission of Salt Lake, my wife staying overnight for Family Promise, or in community creating emergency buckets at the United Methodist Committee on Relief in Salt Lake. Last night it was for me feeding the needy at Asbury UMC here in Charles Town.  

Easter comes, and then it comes, and then it comes again.  Easter in a familiar rhythm, sound, sights and smells.  However, from those familiars, we are called to serve, and that can make the familiar pretty unfamiliar. 

Are you familiar enough with the voice of Jesus to recognize he calling you by name, and if yes, is he calling you into the unfamiliar?  If so, listen.

Selah, Dennis

Denied Pain: A Redux

“Courage is forged in pain, but not in all pain. Pain that is denied or ignored becomes fear or hate.”

 Brené Brown, Braving the Wilderness

 I think many of us know the expression, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.”

As Brené Brown offers in Braving the Wilderness, that expression is sometimes, but not always,true.  Courage can be forged, but fear or hate might be as well.

Too often those in pain try to talk to someone, you, me or another friend, about their pain.  On our best days, we listen.  On our worst, we tell them to be tough and soldier on.  I have, too often, witnessed this danced out with exactly this be tough and soldier on choreography when asked to deal with depression.  Sadly, I have led this dance myself more than once.

A person has a broken ankle and we stop, cast them, operate if necessary and shower them with special care.  A person has a broken heart stemming from life’s pains, and we often, too often in my opinion, tell them to suck it up and drive on.

On forced road marches in the Army, I often heard non-commissioned officers telling soldiers to “take two salt tablets, put your mind in neutral, and drive on.”  It worked.  Often in fact.  Not always.  When I comment that we need to be prepared to listen for the pain, it is the deeper pain that is being denied, or ignored.  That is the type of pain that leads to anger and/or fear.

A powerful, insightful, book I read several years ago was Hillbilly Elegy.  The author deals well with the deep pain of living in a culture where that pain is denied or ignored.  To re-quote Brown:  “Pain that is denied or ignored becomes fear or hate.”

I think there are movements in this country right now feeding from the trough of denied or ignored pain.  These movements are across our political landscape, and not isolated to any one group.

How people are often moved to action is through a careful, intentional dose of hatred that is used so stoke the ovens of fear.

What we have too often is a single coin, with two sides:  one side – fear, the other - hatred.  Fear and hatred are two sides of the same coin, minted by those who use that coin to fund and fuel dissension and separation.

We live longer, have less poverty, are better educated, and are generally healthier than at any time in human history.  But still we live so often in fear.  Communities lock down because of a shooting and helicopters fly over our heads shaking us out of a world of confidence into a world beset with basic human fear, and we ask do I face this and rise, or do I flee, and if I do flee, where do I go that is truly safe?

So often FEAR is Forgetting Everything is All Right and that is a basic element of the human condition.  I was once told, there are 365 times we are told to Fear Not in the Bible.

In Romans 5: 3-5 we are told “we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”  Each of us has a role in the steps here from suffering to hope.  Moving from suffering to hope is not a personal, singular journey.  Each of us are potential messengers of the Gospel on this journey.  

Our task, our sacred call, is to listen deeply for the pain in others (or ourselves) and be agents that cause that pain to not be denied or ignored.  Listening to others is important.  Allowing yourself to be supported by others serves to help release that pain.

Sometimes we minister by quietly sitting, quietly listening.

     Sometimes we minister by moving from sitting and listening to rising so that we are instruments of change in a world that might too often be guilty of the charge of not listening for the pain.

          Sometimes, two salt tablets and putting our minds in neutral is not the Christ-like response.  You figure that out by listening, and being open to not believing everything you think.

               Sometimes what doesn’t kill you, makes you meaner or more fearful.  Learn to recognize that in yourself.  Be alert to seeing it in others.

Everyone of those sometimes contains a suggested Christ-like response:  be a friend to those to whom love is a stranger.

Selah, Dennis

I published a slightly different version of this two years ago based on a Sermon Series preached at Hilltop UMC in Sandy, Utah, thus "a Redux".  

A Prayer for January 5, 2017

Creating and Nurturing God, restore to us the joy first experienced when we first answered, "Here I am" to your call in the night.  At that moment our spirit was so willing, so eager, so ready to serve.  We were full of awe -- awe full.  Bring into this now that past sense of awe that led to such clear purpose so that our tomorrows become living portraits of your vision. Amen.

Psalm 8

Psalm 51

Hilltop highly resolves to … what?

There is a lot of energy present in the sanctuary when we have nearly 300 people present. As I stand in the middle of that gathered body I feel like I am at one with you. It is often extremely uplifting.  Why can’t we just keep it like it is forever?

Does anybody really believe that something that is not growing can hold a level of energy indefinitely? I would suggest that one of our New Year’s resolutions is that “Hilltop highly resolves to … keep growing.” Product innovator Robert Cooper sounds like a theologian when he writes, “Every moment of our lives we are either growing or dying—and it’s largely a choice, not fate. Throughout its life cycle, every one of the body’s trillions of cells is driven to grow and improve its ability to use more of its innate yet untapped capacity.” Paraphrasing a little what Jesus says in John 10: “I came that [you] may have life, and have it abundantly.” We have an enormous amount of untapped capacity at Hilltop to extend God’s Kingdom in the South Valley and share the abundant life that comes of knowing Christ.

We have begun the conversation necessary to start framing what a second service might look like. Here is what we are thinking:

· The current multiple musical groups and styles will be the framework at 9:00 am.

· Sunday School is retained for now at the 9:00 hour because we know there are parents who want to worship while their children are in Christian Formation.

· Launch in September.

· Make the decision if we are going to Launch in September, in May.

We would like to see attendance targets of about 275 as an average achieved for non-Easter Sundays in March and April along with clear covenants by enough, about 100, to make such a service well attended and have energy.

I believe we need to continue to grow. Yes, retain elements of our history but also to grow. The product innovator I quoted earlier, Cooper also writes that such thinking “…turns conventional thinking upside down…As … people—there is no staying the same. If we aim for some middle ground or status quo, it’s an illusion—beneath the surface what’s actually happening is we’re dying, not growing. And the goal of a lifetime is continued growth, not adulthood.”

I believe that our Triune God calls us to constant and continued growth.

 

I suggest that one of our community resolutions be “Hilltop highly resolves to launch a second worship service in September, 2013.”

 (Pastor’s Musings – January, 2013)

Are We There Yet?

I used to drive my parents crazy when we’d start out on a long trip by asking the question:  “are we there yet?” At some point, I figured out that driving from Atlanta to Tampa was going to take about twelve hours and as interstates were developed, the time kept dropping.

At the beginning of our own Lenten journeys we have some idea of what lies in wait for us at the end. We will have the smell of Easter Lilies and we will hear the choir and bells singing and playing Christ the Lord is Risen Today. Lent will be over and Easter beckons.

I took my first intentional Lenten Journey in 1995 and when we got to Easter, I was ready to explode in joy. My emotional response to the empty tomb and Mary being called by name was almost more than I could take.

Why?

I think it was because for the first time in my adult life, I had actually used the church season designed for contemplation and reflection for reflection and contemplation. I didn’t intentionally wear, like a leper might have, sackcloth and spread ashes in front of myself and utter “unclean, unclean” but I let the meaning of the Lenten experience create in me a wide-ranging set of spiritual responses.

First, the weekly reflection on key themes penetrated like never before. Words like “sacrifice” and “change” were given newer and richer meanings. “My journey” took ideas that I thought were previously understood and gave them new meaning. The cross took on a whole new meaning. Grace was a gift and more than a word to indicate a prayer or a kind remark.

Second, I wonder if I didn’t start to ask myself questions about who I was and what God was calling me to do? I used the Kirbyjon Caldwell observation a few weeks ago about the two most important moments in our life: ‘the moment we were born and the moment we discover why we were born.’  Slowly, in the mirror, dimly, I began to start to comprehend elements of God’s plan for the rest of my life. It most certainly didn’t evolve as a precise plan of do this for five years, apprentice in a Colorado Springs church for three years, get your own leadership experience for nine and then head to Utah. But it did include elements of making my journey deep and profound rather than quick and superficial.

What is God saying to you as you start your Lenten Journey?

    How might you make your own journey deep and profound?

       How might you get to the empty tomb bathed in the scent of lilies and have your heart explode in joy over the Easter tunes that take on deeper, richer meaning.

I suggest the answer to the question of “are we there yet” is probably no. But we can get “there” by simply getting started on that journey, and making it with Jesus. He is looking forward to being our guide.

Pastor’s Musings – Feb 2013

Baseball Stuff

Well, here we are in the midst of the Hot Stove League.  I occasionally can get into conversations about football, both pro and college, but my true love is without a doubt, baseball. 

My favorite team is the Atlanta Braves.  Right now, the General Manager Frank Wren is trying to re-tool his team so that it can compete with the Philadelphia Phillies in the National League East. 

So often I see an article on the Atlanta Journal Sports pages and I see comments by people who basically suggest the baseball equivalent of acquiring a new Cadillac and giving up a used Volkswagen with 200K miles on it.  They want value and they want to give up nothing to get it.  I read those comments and wonder what game they are watching?  It doesn't seem to be the game I think I am watching in the 21st Century. 

The other thing I see often is a borderline desire to have the "perfect" team.  A 2010 equivalent of the 1927 Yankees.  That was, in my opinion, then, and this is, in my opinion, now.  The beer baron who built the 1920s era Yankees was not dealing with the free agency and unions that now form the back story of this wonderful game.  We might want to see the 1927 Yankees, but in 2010, even the Yankees can't build the 1927 Yankees.  Players have choices at some point where they play and teams have limits on how much they are going to pay.  Would I want Nate McLouth, a disappointment in 2010, to be a key offensive cog on the Braves?  No, but at the present time, I don't think the team has been constructed where he is a key offensive cog. 

Just a thought.  Not intending to be too serious here today.  Just a thought, or maybe a vent on mindlessness. 

My Personal Story

I was asked to write a little about who I am in story form.  This was my effort.

**

The river that is Dennis Shaw was created by different streams of varying intensity, width, depth and color.

I am a musician, soldier, nursing attendant, holder and practitioner of graduate degrees in business and theology, son, brother, husband, father, and, at one time, a well trained elite level athlete. Several of the streams that formed me storied that hard work and education can overcome almost any life obstacle. Those same education and industriousness streams understood that what might appear to be fords and crossing points for possible entry into those life streams for me might be denied to others based on gender and race. Justice oozes from the springs of a particular familial creek, diluted at times by less justice based waters, but the minerals and nutrients from that spring are rich and have not been easily diminished. Fairness and equity are core values that have been and are part of my story, in the river I am, in the streams that came to me, and the rivers I flow into.

At 62, I continue to be a student and adult learner. I have learned to speak Spanish in the last ten years. I have a UCC pastor who provides me monthly “supervision”. I am blessed by experienced pastors who said “if you need help, call me” and I called. I confess, I reluctantly responded to God’s call into pastoral ministry. My primary problem was one of unworthiness for the task not understanding that my own life story may be of value to the creator of all life stories. As with all of us, our stories provide us unique and specialized wisdom. I have been well equipped to be a current within the flow of this wondrous river called pastoral leadership, but in truth I am probably only a leaf upon that surface moved at one and the same time by the springs, streams and rain that created and sustained me, buoyed by God’s three-fold fullness of Grace.

This position at Stratmoor Hills may be the most meaningful leadership role I will ever be called upon to accept.

It is both intensely exhilarating and profoundly humbling.

Lent as Spiritual Spring Training

The text yesterday just seemed to lend itself to the idea of baseball and focusing on the idea of using Lent as a time of spiritual spring training.  I got the idea here at the Facebook page for The Text This Week (Facebook).  I preached from the Philippians. 

The Holy Spirit provided us our District Superintendent, Olon Mulford Lindemood who was there for our non-traditional service.  He is a big baseball fan, and I guess just another example of how the Holy Spirit operates ...

I suggested that Paul was proud of the church at Philippi.  He had some thoughts that would help them get through their season but there were a few fundamentals they needed to focus on because their goal wasn't to be good in Arizona or Florida (spring training sites) or as individuals to find themselves playing ball only at Tulsa or Colorado Springs (Colorado Rockies farm sites), but to make it to that Cathedral of Baseball in Denver called Coors Field. 

The big idea was that this is not our final home.  We are called to make this world as good (perfect?) as we can, but at the end of the day, here in this world isn't our final home.  There is tension in the idea. 

Heaven is the place to which we aspire and hope for. 

At the same time, we aspire to make this world better. 

In the movie Field of Dreams the hero meets a father he knew only after life's struggle had changed him.  The son wondered about the father but didn't know him.  In the movie, he meets him and understands better who he was.  His father asks "is this heaven" and the son he doesn't recognize yet says "No, its Iowa".  They go on to say that 'Heaven is where dreams come true.'

Lent is a time for us to pause in our individual journeys and ask ourselves where are we and where are we going. 

A line I wish I had used in the sermon from the movie is about the player who after 5 minutes of Major League fame diverts his attention to be a Doctor.  Our Iowa hero seems to think it is a tragedy that after five minutes in the Majors he turned his back on that life and dedicated his life to caring for others.  The Doctor says "Son, if I'd only gotten to be a doctor for five minutes... now that would have been a tragedy."

I can't help but wonder on this blog if my call to be the pastor at Stratmoor Hills isn't my own version of that conversation ... insert for me the word "pastor" for the word "doctor". 

The doctor talks to our dream field builder about his life as a doctor in a small town:  "This is my most special place in all the world, Ray. Once a place touches you like this, the wind never blows so cold again. You feel for it, like it was your child."

Wow ... can I ever relate to that ...

I start off talking about how "this world" isn't our home but at the same time recognizing that our calling is to be change agents in this world.  I guess that describes the tension we all feel in preaching and leading a church.  But maybe when we really feel like we are making a difference in our little place in the world, 'the wind doesnt' blow as cold' and "you feel for it, like it was your child."


Peace. 

Darkness to Light

Yesterday, we celebrated the lives of people who have passed away in the last three years at Stratmoor. Some sixteen Saints, associated with Stratmoor Hills have passed away in the past three years. There is a "hole in our soul" from their losses.

In addition to those sixteen names, we also encouraged people to submit a card on anyone who had passed away, whenever it was, and we called their name as well, and we lit a candle for them.

We are a low-church church, and this looked to me when we first talked about it, like a high-church ritual.

I was wrong.

By the time we had all the candles lit, we had read and called into the light, over fifty names at each service. It was an example of where ritual, making a dark room lit by memory, was a powerful sermon in and of itself. My sermon at both services was only a few minutes. I personally was left with the feeling that the sermon was the candles.

I wonder if that isn't part of the intent in the history of this All-Soul's Day remembrance for the church: to light our lives with the power of their memory?

We are going to do something very similar next week for Veteran's Day .. living as well as those who have passed away ....

Selah.