God loves you and has a plan for your life

When I went to college (Houghton College in the southern-tier of New York State), I lived in a religious culture that was very certain about who God was and how God operated. Very often I heard, “God loves you and has a plan for your life!” (one of the "Four spiritual laws"). At times this was a comforting thought—after all, wouldn’t it be nice if someone else mapped out my life for me and made sure everything worked according to plan?

But over the years I’ve discovered that I often mistook my own desires for God's plan. I eventually came to appreciate God’s lack of pushiness. Yes, God loves me. And, yes, God has a plan, but it’s a huge plan, one that encompasses the entire universe. God invites me to cooperate with that plan, God "invites me to join the party" - as it were. But in order to participate in God’s big plan, I have to make choices every day—about the kind of person I want to be, about the priorities I keep, about the loves I nurture.

I no longer believe that there’s a connect-the-dots plan for David's life. Every day, David has options from among which he may choose; some are better than others. Yet, some are obviously wrong and harmful, but many are indeed good. When I learn to distinguish what is the best of the good, that’s called growth.

What’s my purpose? To grow into my God-created potential to love. That happens as I make decisions, but it involves more than that. I become my best self as I become more intimately engaged with God. So, I guess, it’s really not about a plan; it’s about a relationship.

-- based on Isaiah 43:1-7

How insignificant can I be?

The seminary where I was formed for the priesthood is located in a semi-rural area southeast of Buffalo, NY. On a cloudless night, you can walk out near "the lake" (an overgrown pond) and lay on your back and stare at the sky. There on a clear winter's night, you can see stars never seen by anyone in the city, or anywhere that experiences "light pollution." The sky is crystal clear, I seem to remember that you could even see elements of the Milky Way.

Then you start to think. How far away is that nearest star? How long did it take the very light that twinkles in your eye to reach this tiny world through a vast universe? Upon realizing that even the little bit of this vast universe we can perceive, how and why should God care about me - a mere "speck" in this incomprehensible universe?

Yet even with thoughts about how insignificant I may be, there is a certain peace that fills my breast, my very soul in contemplating how immense God is. That very insignificance becomes itself a gift - grace: that even so small, God cares about and shows God's love for me in revealing this part of creation to me.

-- based on Psalm 8

Someone to lean on

"With your rod and your staff, you give me courage."

For most of my life I have been "the strong one" - smart, entrepreneurial, willing to risk, and all making it look like I know what I am doing. The fact is that most of the time I am "flying by the seat of my pants." Many times I can feel like I am out there all alone. It also leads to a pattern where it seems to me that everyone looks to me for an answer or a solution, so when I am vulnerable, it makes it hard for me to find support in others. It's hard to ask for help and support, and even when I do, people often look at me quizzically like they don't know what to do since I was more often their "go to" guy.

The image of strength I see in this passage and the phrase I quote is reassuring to me. Even when I feel out there and alone, I can turn to God for the strength and the courage I lack. The grace I desire today is to be able to be more vulnerable in the eyes of others and to be able more easily to reach out to others when I feel weak.

"Surely goodness and kindness shall follow me all the days of my life." (sigh)

-- based on Psalm 23

It's Ash Wednesday - Again

The ritual associated with Ash Wednesday is simple and clear.  It reminds us that we, like everything else on this earth, will die.  Today we remind ourselves about the certain cycles of life and death – the beginning and the end.  We also remind ourselves who we are and from whom we come – God.
Today is a sort of reality check.  The prophet Joel calls us to look at who we are and how we are living and, when it seems we come up short, return to the Lord.  Today we begin a journey inward to encounter and confront all that separates us from God and from one another by taking account of all that causes pain, damage, and separation in our lives.

The season of Lent that begins today, is a time to acknowledge that to move to a new way of life, we first must die to the old – to give up the things that get in the way of our knowing God and one another more deeply and completely.  Lent is a time to remember our baptism and the call to know, love and serve God and one another that came with it.  It can be a season of great change.

During Lent, we reconnect with who we are, with who we can be, with whom God made us to be.  We are humans – made in God’s image and likeness – but unlike God, we are also made of dust – and into that dust we shall return.  Now, then, is the time to make the most of it all!

Fears

Fear. I don't know why I am ever afraid but I realize that I live in a low state of fear almost always. On many occasions it has been about pleasing others, making sure they were happy or at least not upset with me. An example: in a former relationship, I would make sure all the spoons were aligned in the drawer for "fear" that J would be upset if they were all akimbo. (The reasoning? When aligned they won't scratch!!) I often use that example to show myself how silly it all is.

But fear is more for me. While in prayer in this passage from Luke, I began to realize that my deeper non-neurotic fear is much more existential. It is about being relevant, about making a difference, about mattering or having a purpose in the world that others will notice and appreciate. Put in a different way, it is about wondering if I matter in the world.

The grace that descended on me in this prayer time is related to yesterday's post: the only one I really matter to is God., and God loves me utterly even in my vulnerability. His living gaze never leaves me even when I am in a "dark place."

Thus, I am loved by God and my relevance is rooted in simply becoming whatever God  has made me to be. I am allowed simply to be me and do not have to worry about keeping spoons in order. I have "beauty" (relevance) simply because I have been "wonderfully made". Wow! What a revelation to my heart.

I still fear being irrelevant, of not mattering, but I have an antidote to those dark feelings. Recalling God's loving gaze calms my heart.

-- based on Luke 12:22-34

Naked

Psalm 139

How does God gaze on me?
How open am I to receiving this intimacy?

It's interesting how disconcerting it is when people realize that almost nothing they upload to the internet remains private. The old adage scripsit maneat ("What is writeen remains.") is more true than ever. This gives me pause on praying through Psalm 139 and realizing that there are no secrets from God to whom "all hearts are open and from whom no secrets are hid."

There is no light and darkness. There is no place where God cannot know me and nothing about me that God does not already know -- even things that I don't know about myself are already known even "while I was being made in secret and woven in the depths of my mother's womb."

We are fascinated by ultra sound pictures of an unborn child, yet these are just rough images in comparison to what God sees and knows of me even there.  I begin to feel a little foolish, then, when I realize how much I think I can hide from God: all my imperfections, my sinfulness. God knows it all. And therein is the great truth - that God does know it all and because of it all - good and bad - continues to love me into being. "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain to it."

Unconditional love is what is too high for me. Hard to fathom, even more difficult to grasp.

I am put in mind of Bubba, my ever present canine companion. I heard someone recently describe that dogs stare at their "masters" because it is a way of expressing affection - it is the way they hug you -- with their eyes. So it is with God. God is "looking" at me always -- and with that gaze is enveloping me with love. Awesome.

Epiphany in our Day

In our current age, an age of globalization, our understanding of the Feast of the Epiphany takes on more importance than ever. The magi who sought the infant king were not Jewish, but gentile, they are outsiders yet they were led to find and worship God in Christ. Jesus is not simply the messiah for Israel but the fulfillment of the promise that all nations would be blessed through Abraham. 

The Church believes that Christ brings light for the whole world. In Christ, we believe that God call together the whole world and all its peoples. To celebrate this feast of the Epiphany, we need to see how Christ-event calls for a healing of divisions and an openness to learn from people of all cultures and languages. It is a call a just world order – trade policies that respect the economic opportunities of all people especially the poor – environmental policies that respect the world that we all share together – spending policies that respond to human needs – investment in human needs rather than the weapons of war – a greater equality in sharing the fruits of our work and our earth. 

The Feast of the Epiphany invites us to celebrate the wonderful reality that Jesus came as a “light to the nations,” not just for some subset of the human race. Thus, the categorical exclusion of anyone contradicts the good news of Jesus Christ. Racism, stereotyping, discrimination, xenophobia, ethnic violence, extreme income & asset inequality – all are wrong. 

Moreover, in the Epiphany story, we note that Herod reflects the behavior of one who is characterized by fear. The news about a new child to be “king” threatens his position in the world. Rather than opening his mind and heart to the possibility of learning from the wisdom of these outsiders, his fear transforms to anger. It is this anger that then seeks to destroy what the Magi came to discover. In a time when fear is the currency of our public discourse, we need to open our minds and hearts to this wisdom, else we, too, will seek to destroy what Christ has come to create. 

The Child the Magi sought continues to offer a vision that is worth their long and grueling journey. In own day, Jesus offers a light that is worth sharing. In the vision of this child, born in poverty and humility, the Magi found  wonderful light, powerful good news, and the possibility of liberation from sin, injustice, and prejudice. These foreigners experienced the power and the gift of the Christ Child. Even as thy brought gifts to be given to the Child, the Child in turn opened their (and our) eyes to the experience of the light of Christ as a gift for the whole world. Giving and receiving thus happen at the same time. This mutuality is part of the gospel of Jesus Christ. This, then, must be true in our own ministry for justice. 

The story of the Magi has implications for many aspects of church ministry. No one is to be excluded from the light of Christ. Whether we are young or old, female or male, gay or straight, rich or poor, black or white, from the south or the north, from the east or the west, from a famous school or a very ordinary one, employed or unemployed, healthy or sick, born in the US or elsewhere, all of us are invited to experience the Epiphany – the revelation of Christ for the world.