Month: November 2020

With the approach of Christmas we have images of bright lights, peaceful evenings by the tree, and gatherings with loved ones. Even with the bleak backdrop of COVID, we anticipate hearts warmed by the preparation for this beloved holy-day. But the Lectionary Committee who choose the Bible passages for this First Sunday in Advent throw this doom and gloom prediction our way—as if approaching Christmas with COVID lurking is not worry enough! So “Ho Ho Ho and get your act together—now!” We scratch our head and wonder, are we awaiting the birth of a Savior or the end of the world? We know how to wait for Santa—most of us remember opening up little windows on paper Advent Calendars as children, excited for the double window we got to open on Christmas Day. The countdown to Santa is measurable. But watching for Jesus? That’s not so easy.

The text urges us to stay awake, to be ready because we don’t know what’s coming around the next corner. I think we’ve learned that lesson pretty well this year, don’t you? Most of us have the luxury of being able to plan ahead. We set a date for our wedding, make big plans and carry them out with lovely pictures to document the occasion! Not this year. The teaching of Jesus invites us to learn from the past so that we can live better in the present. There will be indicators in the present that prepare us for what’s ahead if only we live attentively in the moment!

This teaching takes place in the Temple where Jesus is surrounded by the religious elite. Jesus has shifted gears to preparing His disciples for His absence. The cross is within Christ’s sight and He wants to ensure the readiness of His inner circle of followers. He predicts that the very temple where they are studying will be destroyed. This would have been regarded as blasphemy—and impossible! When we traveled to the Holy Lands several years ago our group smiled for the camera on the stones that made up one wall of that Temple where Jesus taught. They are massive boulders chiseled into square foundation stones. They are still heaped in a giant pile, unmoved because of their size. It’s unimaginable that soldiers would have been able to knock these stones down like a remodeler knocks down a flimsy wall on our favorite HGTV renovation show. But they did, like an army of ants, and we stood on the proof that Jesus’ outlandish prediction came true when the Romans sacked Jerusalem in 70 A.D.

This passage falls into the category of apocalyptic writing. There are several general traits to this kind of literature. Christopher Hutson writes, “The basic message of apocalyptic visions is this: The rebellion against the reign of God is strong, as the wicked oppress the righteous. Things will get worse before they get better. But hang on just a little longer, because just when you are sure you cannot endure, God will intervene to turn the world right side up.” So fa-la-la and run for cover! People have used this sort of message for generations to predict dire events in the future. The Jews and Christians who witnessed the destruction of Jerusalem would have thought that Jesus’ prophecy was being fulfilled then. Remember the Y2K frenzy? Some folks prepared for the end of the world as we moved into a new millennium. As COVID hit our country, fear overtook us and people hoarded toilet paper to keep supplied until the world as we knew it was over! But, so far, none of these doomsday preachers have been right. The predicted day of annihilation arrives, passes, and we move on with another reminder that no one knows the day or hour of Jesus’ return. So don’t focus on the future. Live attentively in the moment. Remember Jesus’ prayer that we continue to pray: “Give us this day our daily bread…”

Our neighbors operate a beautiful orchard primarily of apple trees. For decades they poured their retirement energies into pruning each tree, spraying regularly to ward off insect damage and finally harvesting bins of beautiful apples that were carted off to market. The past two years have been difficult for this couple. The husband had a heart attack two years ago and was told he might live another year. His wife, who had declined due to Alzheimer’s for several years, died last winter. It had been her parents’ farm. This year the apples hang on the branches of the trees as the fall leaves drop and the first snow brings sparkling cover. It’s heartbreaking to witness the changes in this orchard that was tended to so meticulously. Jesus gives an example of a tree that would have been common to His listeners: a fig tree. A good farmer is going to watch for pest infestation. He will make certain that there is enough water and nutrients in the soil. She will prune the branches and set time aside at harvest to gather the fruit that provides nourishment for the community. A vigilant farmer pays attention to the fruit growing in the present moment so that there will be a crop. Likewise, we are to be watchful in our own time so that we can perform the necessary tasks in a timely manner. If we do this, we won’t need to worry about the future.

Jesus wraps up this particular lesson with an acknowledgement that His audience included more than those Jewish men who sat at His feet in the shade of the Temple. “And what I say to you I say to all. Keep awake.” He made a point of saying that He was teaching His urgent lesson to all. Stretching through the ages, past one dire prediction of end times after another, Jesus even had us in mind as He reminded a preoccupied people that they need to slow down to enjoy the moment rather than worry about a future that we cannot control. He would have remembered how a brutal dictator in 167BC banned all foreign religions in his kingdom. Antiochus Epiphanes asked those in his vast empire to recognize him as a god. He had coins minted with his image and the words, “The Face of a God.” He was a maniac who fought to keep control by removing any form of his subjects’ religion except for worshiping him. The Jews were forbidden to make sacrifices to Yahweh or even to possess a Torah in their synagogues. The Jews had to literally fight to maintain the integrity of their religion. Some 200 years later, in spite of these restrictions, Jesus, a Jew, lived among a Jewish population that had not only survived hard times but thrived. Believers like Esther, Daniel, and (much later) Paul professed their faith in spite of the risk it posed to their lives.

Much has changed for us this year in how we live our daily lives. The Corona Virus has shut down churches and changed the way we celebrate communion. It has forced us to minister to each other with porch deliveries and zoom meetings with family on Thanksgiving. We have revised and re-revised plans for weddings and funerals. We have ceased singing with each other out of concern for each other’s well-being. Some of you spent Thanksgiving alone in your homes for the first time ever. Some of you are quarantining in one corner of your home, fighting a deadly virus, while loved ones tend to you from a safe distance. We have been prevented from doing the things we like and took for granted. We have fought to hang onto some vestige of the familiar while grieving the temporary loss of beloved traditions.

The usual message this time of year is to slow down. Many of us have been forced to slow down. We aren’t throwing parties. We aren’t doing our usual holiday cooking and baking. We are ordering gifts on-line rather than enjoying shopping outings to familiar places with loved ones. We understand, more than any other Advent season, what it means to wait. We are waiting for an effective vaccination that will inoculate us against sickness, loneliness, and fear. We are waiting for our government to work together for the good of its people. We are waiting for business to pick up again, for good health to return, for a chance to wrap our arms around loved ones we miss more than we imagined possible. As the Advent season begins, Jesus calls out to us: Stay awake. Watch the signs of the time. Be ready.

And so we wait. But not like a child who sits in class, pulling on her gum, waiting for the bell to ring. We wait like the batter who steps up to the plate knowing that a ball traveling upwards of 95 miles an hour will soon be flying his way. He is expected to be ready to make contact and turn it into a hit. That’s the kind of watching we are asked to do. Your children open tiny doors on Advent calendars or seek out an elf in a different place each morning. They anticipate the arrival of a man who slides down chimneys in a red suit. But Jesus pleads with us to watch for the places He shows up to shine the light of His glory into dark corners.

We live “in the meantime.” Rather than being fixated on a particular sort of future, Jesus invites us to take pleasure in today. Even with COVID, with hateful division, with economic stress; in the face of hurricanes, raging fires, floods, and melting icecaps; while separated from friends or quarantining in the basement, we give thanks to God who dwells with us “in the meantime.” Those who assembled the lectionary readings want us to know, like every generation before, that much is at stake in this season. So we pray as we sing the words that were penned in the 9^th century: “O come, o come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!”

Childhood

A boy about ten years old was called up to the front of the church. Dutifully he walked up to the preacher, his father. His daddy laid hands on him and commissioned him before the whole congregation for a new responsibility. Through prayer the preacher man proclaimed his boy as being anointed for service to God as a musician. Andrae would be the song leader for Christ Memorial Church in San Fernando, California. A decade of living under his belt, he was given authority in his church family.

His father knew the boy had talent. The commissioning didn’t come out of nowhere. Andrae had been singing and playing the piano long before this altar call. He changed keys effortlessly to harmonize with his people, not the other way around. He was self-taught. His father anointed Andrae Crouch as the church musician because he saw God’s hand upon him. Andrae did not disappoint!

Andrae’s father founded Christ Memorial Church in 1951. Andrae’s mom was very involved in the ministry as well. Born on July 1, 1942, Andrae spent his whole life alongside his twin sister, Sandra. The two of them formed a band in the early 60’s called Andrae Crouch and the Disciples. In an interview years later Andrae said, “I know what I’m supposed to say in a particular song. I don’t know the order to the song. I don’t know if it should be, the end should be on a high note or a low note or something mellow. When I’m going to record it, God gives me the interpretation of the song and how to deliver it. And when I feel it that way, and it touches me, then I feel like it would touch somebody else.” He could have no idea how true his inclinations would be about his own musical appeal. When he was in high school he wrote the song, The Blood will Never Lose its Power. There was no looking back for Andrae. His passion for music and the acclaim of others led him on a non-stop journey as a singer/songwriter.

Long before there was an understanding of dyslexia, Andrae lived that reality. He developed his own sort of sign language, using drawn pictures if he couldn’t recognize the word. Andrae told the Associated Press in 2011, “Some things that I write, you’ll see a page with cartoon pictures or a drawing of a car—like a Ford—or a flag. I still do it on an occasion when a word is strange to me…So when I finish a song, I thank God for bringing me through. You have to press on and know your calling. That’s what I’ve been doing for all my life. I just went forward.” Rather than viewing his disability as an impediment to his success, he saw it as an asset. He said, “If I was sharp in every area, I might be too big-headed or something.” Turning barrier into blessing would become part of his trademark.

Bridging the Gap

Andrae started writing music in the tumultuous 60’s. New styles of music shocked an older generation but became the background rhythm by which a younger generation made their moves. Andrae utilized pop writing techniques and paired words of faith with those upbeat melodies. He bridged the gap between sacred and secular unlike any musician before him was able to do. His love of jazz and black gospel music stretched traditional hymnody beyond the acceptable bounds of the 1950’s American Church. He didn’t have an agenda—he had a style and he used it to give expression to his faith. In an article in the Baptist Press from January of 2015, the journalist wrote, “Crouch could craft an innovative melody and heartfelt lyric while unabashedly proclaiming the Gospel in his songs—man’s sin; God’s love and faithfulness; Jesus’ death, resurrection and imminent return. Crouch’s songs were transparent and honest about the struggles of the Christian life, yet full of hope.”

His unique blending of traditional Black Gospel sounds with other music genres formed a bridge between white and black churches. It inspired people from evangelical congregations to mainline Protestant churches to belt out his music. He is understood to be the author of Contemporary Christian music that took off in the 1960’s and 70’s. He was criticized for diluting Christian music with contemporary musical traits. The appeal to this new form of church music wasn’t fully appreciated as Andrae started composing. Unfazed, he continued to churn out new hymns that had repetitive word patterns that drew people in. Surrounding himself with other musicians, including his sister, they combined a melody line and words–words simply about life’s experiences or taken directly from scripture–and they would riff on that. “Let the church say amen” is one example of that. In this video clip we see Andrae sitting at his piano, friends standing around him, as he explained how that simple line came to him. The limited lyrics allowed other musicians to jump in, adding their own voices to it. The result was a moment of worship that brings me to (joyful) tears every time I hear it.

The song that would launch Andrae’s career as a globally-recognized musician was My Tribute. When he was 18 he felt God calling him to serve in the Los Angeles Center of Teen Challenge founded by David Wilkerson, the author of The Cross and the Switchblade. On his first day of work he met Larry Reed, newly released from San Quentin Prison. Initially Larry had no interest in Andrae’s faith and stuck to his convictions of being an atheist. But Andrae’s music spoke to him and, over time, he became a Christian. One day Larry called Andrae up. He said, “I had a dream about you the other night. I dreamed that you were going to write a song that is going to go around the world. It will be the biggest song you ever wrote, to this day.” Taking the man’s words seriously, Andrae asked what he needed to do. Larry directed him to John, chapter 17. We call this section of John’s Gospel Jesus’ high priestly prayer. In that passage Andrae read Jesus’ words: “Father, I have glorified Thee, now glorify me.”

The next morning Andrae found himself singing, “To God be the glory.” He wondered where those words came from. He went to the piano and within ten minutes had written the hymn we love, “My Tribute.” Andrae hosted dinner guests that evening in his home. As was his custom, they gathered around his piano and sang together for about an hour. They sang his new hymn. Andrae told his guests about Larry’s prediction that he would write a song that would travel across the globe. One of the guests was incredulous when she learned that the song they had been singing was written that same morning. She insisted that My Tribute must be the very song of Larry’s dream. Andrae couldn’t imagine that his testimony of faith, put into song that morning, would have a wide appeal. So the dinner guests reviewed the passage from John 17 together: “I have glorified thee on the earth: I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do. And now, O Father, glorify thou me with thine own self with the glory which I had with thee before the world was.” Excitedly, Andrae realized that it’s all about glory: “To God be the glory…for the things He has done.”

“My Tribute” became a signature piece for Andrae who toured in Europe, Africa and the Far East to sing his Christian music. Not only did he bridge the gap between white and black congregations; between traditional hymnody and new contemporary music. Andrae’s musical talent was so appealing that he was sought out by secular artists. He helped Michael Jackson write the song, The Man in the Mirror. He became the Producer/Arranger for Madonna’s Like a Prayer. His choir sang the background vocals to her hit. Artists like Elton John, Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, Elvis and Paul Simon sang his music. He had a long relationship with the Oslo Gospel Choir, bringing his mix of black gospel, jazz and traditional hymnody to Norwegians! He won 9 Grammys, an Academy Award and Dove Awards for his compositions. At Michael Jackson’s memorial service in 2009 Andrae sang his song, Soon and Very Soon to a packed out congregation in the Staple’s Center. He is one of very few gospel musicians who has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and was inducted into the Gospel Hall of Fame in 1998. In her article in the Baptist Press (Andrae Crouch kindled ‘new dimension’ of worship by Laura Erlanson, 1/9/15), Laura Erlandson quotes Christian rapper, D. A. Horton: “The impact Crouch had on my life and ministry is deeply meaningful. Andrae broke ground for ethnic minorities in mainstream evangelicalism and popular American culture. His methods will be missed, but the message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ that he so boldly preached remains.”

Losses

I remember hearing an interview with Andrae years ago. His words planted the seed in my heart of one day leading a service devoted to the musical imprint he left for us. He talked about the time that his parents and older brother died, all three in just over a year’s time. Lost in sorrow, he stopped writing music. After a time he had an encounter with God who asked Andrae, “Praise Me.” Andrae railed at God for taking his parents away from him. God persisted, “Praise Me.” Undaunted, Andrae continued his diatribe against the God he assumed was responsible for the tremendous losses he had sustained. God’s response was steady: “Praise Me. Praise Me, Andrae.” Finally, as he let out his anger at God, Andrae collapsed and wept. He allowed God to comfort him then the music started welling up again. Andrae’s music was an expression of what he was feeling at any given moment. He battled four different forms of cancer, the disease that claimed his family members. He lived with diabetes and was hospitalized for complications of the disease. Toward the end of his life he struggled with congestive heart failure. In an interview, Andrae spoke about his song, Through it All. In talking about his bandmates he said, “We’ve been through a lot of things together. We’re not just up here hooping and hollering. But we know the Messiah and we’re always praying. When this song was given to me I didn’t really know how much I was going to have to use it. And I still don’t know how much more I’m going to have to use it. But I’m ready. I just want to be at the place that where God takes me, I want just to be there, to go through it, to be able to say ‘yes’ in every situation and not to complain but just to go through. And we all gotta do that because he don’t have any favorite persons.”

Crouch’s December 2014 tour had to be postponed due to pneumonia and congestive heart failure. Just a month later, he died on January 8, 2015 at the age of 72. Michael W. Smith told Billboard Magazine: “I’ll never forget hearing Andrae for the first time. It was like someone had opened a whole new world of possibilities for me musically. I don’t think there is anyone who inspired me more, growing up, than Andrae Crouch. The depth of his influence on Christian music is incalculable. We all owe him so much and I’ll forever be grateful for the times we got to work together.

Patricia Stuart offered her praise on his obituary page: “I was 14 years old when I began listening to Andrae Crouch and the Disciples. I was blown away by his music because no other music reached my heart the way his music did. I ran out and bought his albums with my allowance and continued to buy his music. To this day, his music touches my heart and I can’t stop listening to it. He was a musical genius who gave you an honest part of himself and a glimpse of God in all of his music.”

Our congregations’ musicians and I talked with each other about what a gift it was to immerse ourselves in Andrae’s music. We shaped a joyful worship service in which we honored his legacy. I awakened to find his music in my head. His lyrics spoke to my heart. I wept at times, moved by the way he and his band poured out their faith in repetitive lines that affirm our faith in Jesus. I am thankful for a boy named Andrae who accepted the calling his father placed upon him to rise up and lead his congregation in song. He did it then and has been doing it ever since! To God be the glory!

Have you ever gone on a balloon ride and floated above the earth with a stunning view below? At a potluck some years ago our church member, Milt, was sharing some of his stories from his years as a pilot. I didn’t realize that he was a balloon pilot in addition to being able to fly planes. So he told us a story about a time he and another balloon pilot were going to take a flight near Lake Michigan. They lifted off 25 miles east of the Grand Haven Airport. They climbed to 3000 feet where they leveled off. For half an hour they enjoyed the view but then Milt noticed that they were covering the ground much faster than they had been initially. The Grand Haven airport was no longer in sight and they were edging closer to Lake Michigan with the passing of each second. When Milt checked their ground speed he was alarmed to see that they were going about 15 miles per hour too fast for balloon speed. As they scanned below to look for a potential landing site, they only saw trees. Knowing that they were running out of time before they would be blown over the big lake, he dropped the balloon down to 1000 feet so that they could land quickly if an opening presented itself. As they leveled off at that lower altitude, an open two acre field appeared out of nowhere. He pulled on the rope that lets out the hot air (another instance when it really isn’t good to be full of hot air!?) and descended very quickly. They landed intentionally against the trees so that the wind couldn’t take them airborne again. Once again on terra firma, they took deep breaths, reflecting on how this harrowing experience could have ended much differently!

I’m not one for high risk adventures! I don’t need to go on Fear Factor and eat a bucket of bugs or slog through the mud while climbing a mountain on the Amazing Race. When I was young I was never tempted to sign up with Outward Bound. I have exciting moments in my life that stretch my limits. But you’re not going to find me scaling the side of a cliff any time soon! How about you? Do you seek out thrills that get your adrenalin pumping? Or are you a creature of habit who likes to play it safe?

Jesus tells a parable in Matthew 25 about three servants and a wealthy Master. The focus is primarily on the third slave who is characterized as being lazy. His boss is harsh and driven. This makes for bad office mo-jo, a vocational mismatch. So it’s not surprising that it ends poorly.

But that’s not the only message of this story. Jesus’ parables have layers to them. In this one the Master is generous. Since he’s leaving for a long journey he entrusts his assets to three faithful servants. A biblical talent is the modern-day equivalent of 15 years of wages! Each worker is given the amount of responsibility that the Master knows they can handle. There are no directions given for how they are to manage their Master’s affairs. The two more astute financial planners double their money by investing it. The third worker does something that was viewed positively in 1^st century Palestine: bury the wealth in the ground! The third worker can sleep in peace until his Master returns.

It’s important to state that this slave is not a bad man. In fact, when the stock market is precariously down, he might even look wise! When the Master returns he is proud to be able to give back all of the money. He didn’t steal any of it. He didn’t foolishly invest it or lose any of it. He gives it all back to the Master, safe and sound, expecting the same kind of praise given to the first two workers. But Slave #3 is treated as harshly as anyone is in the scriptures! So this isn’t just a vocational mismatch or an ancient version of Horrible Bosses! This story creates waves that ripple out to the edges of Jesus’ society that challenged how a life of faith was to be lived.

The words in the parable give us a hint of the problem. Did you notice the emotion behind the third worker’s dealings with his Master’s money? Fear. He fears his Master so fear drives his action (or inaction). This fear becomes the self-fulfilling prophecy in the end when he is thrown into utter darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. I’m not sure what it means to gnash teeth but I don’t think I want to find out! Meanwhile the first two workers are invited with joy into the inner circle of trust with the Master. Rather than being dominated by fear they took risks, just as they knew their Master would. Their courage and savviness was affirmed with a promotion from servant to partner!

So this isn’t a lesson in Micro-Economics. It’s not even about money. It’s about investing fully in our daily lives and taking risks for the sake of the Gospel. John Buchanan flips our common understanding of risk on its head by offering this interpretation:

“The greatest risk of all, it turns out, is not to risk anything, not to care deeply and profoundly enough about anything to invest deeply, to give your heart away and in the process risk everything. The greatest risk of all, it turns out, is to play it safe, to live cautiously and prudently. Orthodox, conventional theology identifies sin as pride and egotism. However, there is an entire other lens through which to view the human condition. It is called sloth, one of the ancient church’s seven deadly sins. Sloth means not caring, not loving, not rejoicing, not living up to the full potential of our humanity, playing it safe, investing nothing, being cautious and prudent, digging a hole and burying the money in the ground. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said that the sin of respectable people is running from responsibility.” (Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 4, Bartlett and Taylor, p. 310)

When has your faith led you into a high-risk venture? We often think of faith as a security blanket, a source of comfort. This is not wrong but it is an incomplete understanding of our faith. Jesus models for us a holy life that forces us to expand our horizons. He calls for us to follow Him, not simply talk theology. Jesus told this story in the last days of His life. It’s the third parable in a series that teaches how we are to pass our time while waiting for the return of Jesus. He is nearing the end of His own high-risk venture and offers this as part of His “Last Lecture Series.” He must prepare His disciples to carry the Christian faith forward for future generations. He doesn’t ask for anything more from us than He is willing to give.

The story begins with an unexpected moment of divine generosity. We are each given not just life but assets or blessings with which to live our lives. It’s as if a very important person has entrusted power, wealth, freedom and responsibility to us as a gift. This generous benefactor shows love for us by giving us space and power to act as we see fit. There is no micromanagement, no strings attached. But we will reap what we sow. The third slave identified his Master as one who reaps where he has not sown. The Master is God and God has the right to take away some or all of our gifts at any time.

Some of us make lists to keep organized and for them (me!), there is no greater joy than crossing something off that list. What if we were asked to keep track of how we spend our hours? Like a law office, what if we had to chart every 15-minute increment and what we “produced” in that time. What if we had to describe our productivity based on an accepted set of priorities? Would it suffice to take our gifts and stuff them under a mattress to keep them safe? Or, when the market is in a tailspin and the future looks bleak, is that the very time to invest in the market believing that the influx of our talents will lead to positive growth? This is starting to sound like an economics lecture! The question is, while waiting for God to step in and bring our struggling world to a glorious end; while anxiously awaiting a mass innoculation of the world with a vaccination so that we can get back to “normal”; while waiting for our daughter’s horrific divorce to be finalized, for our son with ADHD to finish his degree, our salary to bump up by a dollar an hour so we can keep up with our bills or our loved one to come home from an overseas assignment? In these and so many other moments, how do we live? Do we pour it all out for the love of a Savior who redeems our messes and sorrows? Or do we hunker down in a cozy corner and clutch to ourselves everything of value?

I recently heard the conversion story of Anne Lamott, an author with deep Christian spiritual insights. From the way she writes it’s evident she has known struggle. Her conversion experience, described in her book Traveling Mercies, is difficult to read but moves me greatly. In April of 1984 Anne learned that she was pregnant. The father was someone she had just met who was married. She had no desire to have a relationship with him and had no money to raise a baby. So her friend drove her to a clinic where she had an abortion. So deeply saddened by the experience, when she got home she retreated to her bed with a bottle of booze and some codeine the nurse had given her for pain. She drank away her sadness through the night. For a week following the abortion, she drank, took pills and smoked pot to numb her pain. She had medical complications from the procedure such that her friend suggested she go back to the clinic. But Anne was so disgusted with herself that she holed up, anxiously tending to her own needs.

She writes that, after several hours, the bleeding stopped. That night she climbed into bed weak, sad, and too exhausted to abuse her body further with alcohol or pills. As she lay in her bed she became aware of someone with her. Someone was hunkered down in a certain corner with a presence so real that she turned on the light to make sure it wasn’t a real person. It was not. Back in the dark again she knew, beyond any doubt, that it was Jesus. She wrote, “I felt him as surely as I feel my dog lying nearby as I write this.” Rather than welcoming His presence she was incredulous that He could care about her. She was horrified to think of how her friends would react to her becoming a Christian. She turned to the wall and said out loud to the Jesus who gave her space to make her own decisions: “I’d rather die.”

She carried on that week as if she had simply endured a bad dream but felt as if she was being followed everywhere she went. She had been attending a church for a time and she went to the service that next Sunday. The music spoke to her so deeply that, during the last hymn, she felt herself being held and rocked and comforted. She fled the sanctuary in tears and ran for her home, feeling followed all the way. When she opened the door to her houseboat, she stood there a moment, then said with resignation, “I quit.” She writes, “I took a long deep breath and said out loud, ‘All right. You can come in.’”

My faith has been inspired by Anne’s writing. Knowing the hardship of her story and the power of Jesus’ pursuit of her, I am all the more impacted by her testimony. Jesus knew that she had many gifts that could be used for holy purposes. But self-harming behaviors neutralized her impact. Christ sought her out so that she could influence countless seekers, many of whom might have also taken the rocky path into the Christian faith. Like the third servant she was willing to settle for a life that was OK. But God awakened in her the need to step out on a limb of faith and discover that she wouldn’t fall. She was invited into the embrace of her Maker. She embarked on a pilgrimage that has brought her and many others great joy.

In her commentary on Jesus’ parable Lindsay Armstrong writes, “We know what faithful living looks like, but we hesitate to live it. We bury too much goodness, time, love, treasure, and talent in the ground.”

As we await the end of Covid, the end of election tensions, the end of our sickness or sorrow, as we expectantly await the time that God enters our history to straighten us out; in the midst of that waiting we practice a faith that is really a high-risk venture. It will take us to new heights. It will scare us at times. It will bring us great joy! It will give us a sense of God’s nearness as we behold the beauty of the world around us. It’s the greatest hope we have for being unified in our neighborhoods, nation and world!

Is there a tree that is special to your family? Is there a tree on the family farm where dinners stretched out on simple picnic tables giving space for animated conversation? Did someone put up a gazebo, sprinkle it with flowers and get married in the shade of its branches on a warm summer day? Is the tree near the driveway where your grandfather climbed into a Model T to start a new life with your grandmother in another part of the country?

Our family cottage is built on the shores of Lake Michigan. The property has been in the family since the 1890’s although our cottage was built in 1974. We have come up to Michigan for more than 120 years as a family, sitting on chairs along the bluff that afford a vista of the water below. It’s so beautiful that local artist James Brandeiss has painted three stunning sunset pictures from our bluff. One of them features two trees that stand proudly next to each other.

I wonder how many generations of our family, those still among us and those who have long since left this earth, would recognize those twin trees that withstood winter storms and summer heat? Our shoreline is ravaged with the high water levels. The bluff is a raw wound, open sand that loses the battle against wind and water on daily basis. One of those trees has already fallen.

I climbed over our safety fence when I was there a couple of weekends ago and cautiously leaned against the remaining tree. In my heart I thanked it for keeping a vigil over the lake for so many years. Much of its roots are already exposed as it stands with dignity on the precipice of a land that is disappearing. I imagined my grandfather scrambling past that tree to get down to the lake when he was boy. He and his six siblings bathed in the lake, he always told us. My mother spent summers there with her grandmother and aunt. No matter where we lived as an Air Force family, we tried to get to this piece of property for much of the summer. I stood against that tree that probably won’t survive the winter, reflecting on who has benefitted from her broad branches.

Is there a tree that is significant in your family life?

Joshua called a meeting of all the Israelites. “Y’all gather by the oak tree for a family meeting!” They numbered in the thousands. That’s some family reunion! It almost sounds like a rally of loud people who are excited to be together. Can you picture that?! Joshua chose this place because it had meaning for them. They were in Shechem which is the first place where God appeared to Abraham, the patriarch of their clan. It’s the place where Jacob and his entourage renounced their idols and buried them. In those moments of their history they were foreigners on this land. But now, at this point in our scripture passage, the land is theirs. The old oak tree that had witnessed so much of their ancestral story now belonged to them. Not because they deserved it, paid for it, or fought for it. Joshua makes it very clear that they are able to put together a revival on this sacred ground because God gave it to them. God has been there for them all along and this is God’s gift to them.

Joshua calls out, his voice thick with conviction, “Did we do anything to deserve it? No! Remember that–NO! The God of our ancestors has brought us into this promised land and given it to us. GIVEN—IT—TO—US!”

Joshua called this meeting because his newly-liberated people were claiming this familiar place. None of them had been there before. 40 years in the wilderness and, before that, 400 years of slavery in Egypt separated them from this land that had been formational to their tribe. So Joshua knew it was essential that they lay the spiritual foundation to rightly align their priorities in this new home. His people had lived for generations among foreigners who worshiped many gods. The Hebrew people had gone along with that. It’s easier to give in to the dominant culture than it is to fight it for generations. They still loved their God but threw in statues of other favorite gods for good measure. Better to cover all the bases than discover that your Deity Insurance Policy doesn’t offer the broad coverage you imagined!

No more of that, Joshua told them! They are told that they must revere and serve Yahweh, the name they had for their God.

Do you want to do that? Because if you do you will have to “put away” the other gods. The translation for this verb could not be stronger. They will have to radically renounce all that they had counted on in the past: their greatest comforts, their security blankets, their stash of weapons, their hoarded treasures, whatever they valued more highly than their relationship with their Maker. Joshua asks for commitment from the present generation who stands where the very first generation met Yahweh. They are told to make a choice—freely—but they must then be ready to adhere to it.

There’s a back-and-forth rhythm to this ceremony. Imagine the speaker at the podium calling out to the massed gathering:

Do you want to serve the God of our ancestors?

YES!

This isn’t easy! You have to incline your heart and obey God’s voice. Are you sure you want to do this?

The crowd roars, YES!

Joshua replies, NOT SO FAST! This is not an easy commitment! Maybe you’ve forgotten that our God is holy…and jealous! If you say yes but go back to worshiping your former gods, it’s not going to end well! Remember 40 years in the wilderness we just left behind?! That’s because our ancestors gave up on God. Are you sure you want to throw away all that you’ve counted on in the past and worship this God alone?

YES! WE WILL WORSHIP THE LORD ONLY!

Three times they affirm their loyalty to God. Since there are no neutral parties to serve as witnesses to this mass pledge toward revival, Joshua chooses a boulder, joins with other family members, and heaves it under the old oak tree where Abraham met God and Jacob ordered his people to bury their false idols.

The stone is our witness to all that we’ve agreed to today. There can be no more wishy washy faith. You cannot divide your allegiance between gods. You are committing to a singular focus on the One who asks for your very lives. Joshua offers the words that have traveled like a challenge across the ages: As for me and my house, we will serve the LORD!

Is there a tree that’s significant to your family, where promises were made and loved ones gathered? Where graduates posed for pictures and initials were carved into her bark? Perhaps the undertaker’s hearse carried a loved one away for the last time under the canopy of her gracious branches? Did you discover in those moments what really mattered to you? Were you crushed to find out that your security blanket couldn’t protect you?

Martin Luther challenged his people to get rid of their idols. His challenge revolutionized the Church. He stated that anything that we rely on and trust in is a “god.” What are the idols you have had to give up in this COVID time? What gods have failed you in the bitterness of this election year?

In his book, The Jesus I Never Knew, Philip Yancey writes, “A political movement by nature draws lines, makes distinctions, pronounces judgment; in contrast, Jesus’ love cuts across lines, transcends distinctions, and dispenses grace. Regardless of the merits of a given issue—whether a pro-life lobby out of the Right or a peace-and-justice lobby out of the Left—political movements risk pulling onto themselves the mantle of power that smothers love. From Jesus I learn that, whatever activism I get involved in, it must not drive out love and humility, or otherwise I betray the kingdom of heaven.” (page 245)

In this election year battle lines were clearly drawn, rules of engagement were made, changed, and remade. Enemies were characterized and vilified. It seems as if there is no neutral ground on which to stand. A question that surfaces from my gut is, do we have to buy into that?! Is there no other way to stand together under the family tree on land that is dear to us and join our hearts as one in worship of the God who created us? What would it cost us for this to happen?

For us to commit to a covenant renewal as we look with uncertainty at our future we must be ready to let go of our gods. Charles Raynal puts it this way in a commentary on the text: “Like Joshua, the covenant renewal will remind the people of the unique miracles of the Lord for the people and issue a call to forsake the false gods and insecurities in our common life, such as the love of North American wealth, the fear of terrorism, the trust in military force instead of the other choices required for building up alienated and oppressed people. We all need to rediscover Joshua’s way of single-minded loyalty to the Lord, the obedient refusal to give ourselves over to the temptations of compromise with the great wealth, powers, and fears that enthrall most people and all nations today.” (Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 4, page 366.)

Those who lead this country forward will have to be healers. And we know that healing isn’t linear. There can be several good days and our hopes soar. But then the fever returns, the muscle aches and we have to take a nap just three hours into our day. There’s a reason Joshua asked the throng of family members three times to what faith convictions did they really want to surrender their lives? Change doesn’t happen overnight. Healing takes time, especially when the wounds are deep. Joshua’s style is affirmation followed by command. We like the affirmation. We can even make an affirmation to love and serve only God. But we aren’t so fond of the commands that follow: Incline your hearts to Yahweh and obey only that divine voice.            

Are you ready? Can you pledge your allegiance to Christ alone? I wonder if we can do it together?

I remember seeing a video years ago on a hidden camera sort of show that dealt with death in an unusual way. Folks checking out at a cash register could see themselves in a round mirror above the cashier’s head. It’s that kind of mirror that gives a full view of the store. Through clever technology they superimposed the Grim Reaper just behind the customer and I thought it was both funny and surprising at how seriously some people took this brush with their mortality. Take a look at it to see how some people feel when it seems like death suddenly comes knocking at their door! https://youtu.be/SuM2osrEEzE

I guess I find it surprising that folks would believe such a stereotyped apparition and that their response would be so visceral! But the reality is that few of us would respond calmly to news that our time on earth is nearing an end. We are a people who go to doctors for a diagnosis, fully expecting a treatment plan. We have much to live for on this side of heaven so we fight for more time with our loved ones. Alan Minter, a British professional boxer, was quoted as saying, “There have been injuries and deaths in boxing, but none of them serious.” If the video tells us anything, we can be sure that no one considers the possibility of imminent death, whether in a boxing match or suffering in a hospital with COVID, as anything but serious. We have seen people triumphantly leave a hospital to the cheers of medical staff after months of being on a ventilator. What leads them to fight for life when they have suffered so greatly?

In his daily meditation for September 14, Richard Rohr addresses the subject of suffering. He reminds us that there are no dead ends with Jesus. Even when our circumstances seem hopeless, Christ meets us in our suffering. He transforms it into a teachable moment. We don’t ask for these trials nor do we necessarily appreciate them at the time. In fact, most of us will choose the easy path over the steep, rocky path if given the choice. But suffering happens. Problems show up on our doorstep. Reminders of our mortality confront us and how we respond to these moments is telling. Richard Rohr writes about the approach we are invited to take toward our suffering. Facing our challenges with faith can bring relief not just to us but to those who see how our faith shines out in dark valleys. Inasmuch as we have held onto our faith in a loving God in dark times, we become crucial companions to others when they face their own trials. We claim our identity as wounded healers instead of bitter pessimists who have given up on God.

Rohr writes, “What we do when faced with our deepest wounds determines whether there is authentic spirituality at work or not. If we seek to blame other people, accuse, attack, or even explain and make perfect, logical sense out of our wounds, there will be no further spiritual journey. But if, when the wounding happens, we find the grace and the freedom to somehow see that it’s not just a wound, but a sacred wound, then the journey progresses. Then we set out to find ourselves, to find the truth, and to find God. It’s all about what each of us does with the wound.” (Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation from the Center for Action and Contemplation, Wounded Healers, September 14, 2020.)

We have been walking with Moses in recent weeks through the lectionary texts. We have witnessed his courage, his exasperation with his people and, above all else, his complete trust in God. We appreciate this as he faces his death in Deuteronomy 34: 1-12. He isn’t looking over his shoulder, trembling with fear. He isn’t railing at God, asking for more time. He isn’t even questioning God’s determination that, after all he’d done to lead his intransigent people for 40 years in the wilderness, he wouldn’t be allowed to lead them into the Promised Land. I am upset for him when it comes to this Divine Decision that seems harsh for such a faithful servant. But Moses is at peace. What we read from Deuteronomy 34 is his obituary. It is glowing. It exalts Moses as the pre-eminent prophet who had the distinct honor of meeting God face-to-face. Because of his powerfully personal relationship with God, Moses could let go of his life. Even though he fell short of his end goal he was at peace because he dwelt in the safe embrace of his Creator.

I stumbled across an unexpected news story this past week. It was about the memorial service for a cat! In 2008 a cat showed up during the Christmas holidays at the Southwark Cathedral in London. She was looking for food. When she received it, she settled into the cathedral for good. She was named Doorkins Magnificat and became a favorite presence in this architectural gem of a cathedral. She sprawled out on the pews as if she owned the joint. She scampered across the altar during mass. She napped in the hay of the nativity scene one year, giving evidence to the presence of animals at Jesus’ birth. She died on September 30, blind, deaf and beloved. So much so that the Dean of the cathedral hosted a live streamed memorial service for this internationally beloved feline “parishioner” on Wednesday. Not everyone in the upper echelons of the Catholic Church thought it fitting but people tuned in from all over the world. The loss of an aged cat named Doorkins Magnificat gave permission for people to grieve other losses. Presenter Kate Bottley said the service allowed her to grieve the passing of an aunt. She stated, “I hadn’t cried yet, until today. I watched this and cried and cried and cried, because you know what? This wasn’t about a cat. It’s ok if you don’t get it, it’s ok if you think it’s silly, but for me this helped, it really helped.”

On All Saints Day our congregation pauses to remember those who paved the way of faith for us by their own example. We put death in its proper context: the natural endpoint to our earthly lives with an assurance of eternal peace. We read aloud the names of loved ones we have lost, perhaps enabling us to more fully entrust them into God’s eternal keeping. Sometimes hearing the names of complete strangers invites us to grieve our own loved ones. This year has been a time of unequalled loss for our generation. I suspect all of us, by now, know of someone who has died from COVID. Even if it’s not someone close to us, it reminds us that death is never far from us. It can tap us on the shoulder when we are in our prime. Some of the losses we have mourned remind us that there is no guarantee that we will get to the “promised land” of our own dreams. Can we let go in peace as Moses did, with the assurance that we have handed off our earthly endeavors to those who can carry the torch of our faith forward? Can we be at peace in dark times because our eyes are fixed on Jesus who calls us home?

There was one scene in the movie, Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, that brought me to tears. Tom Hanks played the role of Fred Rogers, legendary creator of supportive TV programming for children. Based on Rogers’ life as a TV personality and ordained Christian minister, in one scene Mr. Rogers is visiting a man dying of cancer. The man lived a rebellious life that distanced him from his own family. He spent the last year of his life trying to make amends for his mistakes. He sought out his grown children who weren’t ready to forgive him. Mr. Rogers stopped by the house when the man was confined to his hospital bed, set up in a small living room. Family members were keeping a vigil in a time of precious reunion. Before he left, Fred quietly spoke into the man’s ear, causing him to nod and smile. The son walked Mr. Rogers to his car and asked him what he had whispered to his father. “I asked him to pray for me. Anyone who’s going through what he’s going through must be very close to God.”

Can you imagine how amazed this lost soul must have felt to be entrusted with the responsibility of praying for such a Godly man? If your loved one had made painful mistakes throughout your life, costing you much joy, would you appreciate it if a pastor asked for that relative to pray for them? Would you believe it possible that they had a clear view of God in this very last chapter of their life? Would you be willing to forgive them their past and believe that God dearly loved even them? Or would you cling to your own interpretation of who gets into God’s eternal presence and who does not?

We would never view death as being “not serious.” We treasure our earthly life too much to readily greet death. But, as people whose faith has been shaped by the saints in our past, we rest in the assurance that our present trials are only temporary. The way we face them will either transform us more into Christ’s likeness. Or they will derail us from God’s presence so that we slog through each day with bitter remorse. Moses was remembered as a prophet whose “eyes were not weak or his strength gone” as he breathed his last. The people who tested his leadership grieved his loss, knowing that they met God through him. With his eyes fixed on the Promised Land he would never enter on earthly terms, Moses let go in peace. He knew that what awaited him on the other side was even more beautiful. For all the saints, like Moses, who from their labors rest, we thank you.