Today I go to the North Carolina mountains for several days of sermon planning. The goal, as it is each year, is to begin enough sermons to carry me through twelve months of pastoral ministry. I usually go to the coast for this event, but the mountains have a different music, and the change might be refreshing for me and my church. As I drive away in just a few minutes, I am grateful for your friendship and your prayers. Listen with me for something important that God has to tell us.
Opening Thoughts for March 2009
A scene stays in my mind from the movie Dances With Wolves. Lt. John Dunbar was a white man. He became friends with a group of Sioux and went with them on a buffalo hunting expedition to gather food for the community. Before they found the herd, however, they found the carnage left by white hunters who had dishonored the animals and themselves by only killing for greed and sport, not for sustenance.
There was tension in the party, now. They kept riding. No one spoke. They acknowledged the grief of the terrible scene by not distracting each other from it with words. In his heart, he felt that he was seeing the acts of “a people without value and without soul”, “with no regard for Sioux rights”. He and everyone with him knew that what they were seeing was not the work of native peoples. What could he say?
His journey that day was to ride silently with those hurt by his own kind, feeling remorse without attempts to deny it, excuse it, or claim his own personal innocence. He didn’t ramble on about how not all white people are that way. Silence would demonstrate that better than explanations and defenses. There are some situations in which every denial uttered convinces your listeners one degree further of the opposite of your point. Silence is valuable, then. As much as I love words, words might serve to obstruct the justice of silence.
But my original point in starting to write all this comes from the next scene, when Dunbar is lying down to sleep that night, some distance off from where the Sioux are gathered. His thoughts: “It was hard to know where to be. I don’t know if they understood, but I could not sleep among them. There had been no looks, and there was no blame. There was only the confusion of a people not able to predict the future.”
Is confusion not one of the vines of grief? It tangles our feet and holds us in a place we would rather not be…until the movement of friends nearby invites our own struggle forward. The season of Lent has found us, now, in a confusing time, and we are unable to predict the future, and some of us do grieve losses. As you lean into your journey, may your movement be joined by the hoofbeats of friends who do not blame, but who have the grace of practical silence.
Happy Christmas!
Holy beyond the hype, let quiet exaltation harmonize this day’s portion of your life’s movement. This, and the next eleven, are days for the outlasting of what noise has been.
In 2007, I spent the last week of October on Ocracoke, resting, writing, playing. This year, I will do it in the last week of December. Which is now. I do anticipate that drive.
Will You Walk With Me for Just a Bit into the Field out Back?
For some reason, I thought of Isaiah 40. Abundantly, we are surrounded by the power of beauty, the laughter of our chaotically brilliant and loving God. Did you not know?
Pausing Daily
Before I write about the final day of paddling in the Boundary Waters, I wanted to tell about something else that was part of the process. Phil had arranged ahead of time for a different person to provide a spiritual meditation for the group each day. At some designated point, usually before paddling, we would take the sheet of readings and meditation prompts, wander off by ourselves, and spend a few minutes in prayer and thought. This was a fine component of our time in the wilderness… with each other… alone… with God. It was an important time, and I appreciate what each one shared. Here are the thoughts I shared with the group (ironically?) on the morning before the Saturday of big wind:
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Proverbs 8:22-31
22 The LORD brought me forth as the first of his works, before his deeds of old.
23 I was appointed from eternity, from the beginning, before the world began.
24 When there were no oceans, I was given birth,
when there were no springs abounding with water;
25 before the mountains were settled in place, before the hills, I was given birth,
26 before he made the earth or its fields or any of the dust of the world.
27 I was there when he set the heavens in place, when he marked out the horizon on the face of the deep,
28 when he established the clouds above and fixed securely the fountains of the deep,
29 when he gave the sea its boundary so the waters would not overstep his command,and when he marked out the foundations of the earth.
30 Then I was the craftsman at his side.
I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence,
31 rejoicing in his whole world and delighting in mankind.
Wisdom and water are boundaries, yes. We come to the water like it is a wise old caretaker of tomorrow. Do we want to see how far it is we reach? Curiosity and wisdom are cousins, aren’t they? When standing at that line, are we looking out of or into? It could be we go there just to learn that.
Or maybe we edge up to the shore because of that shepherd thing: “He leads me beside still waters.” — Psalm 23:2b.
That can be one of the scariest verses in the Bible, because it is in still water that we may see our own reflection. But it means he wants us to know who we are. …over and over, or until we finally look. Perhaps some never look until forced to by a thirst. Then bending all the necessary joints to bring watery self within reach, a hand dips from the reflection, enough.
Enough. That has something to do with wisdom. And the wet hand, real-izing what was there, feels exactly like somebody just got baptized. …and baptism, after all, is the biggest boundary water there is.
Think about this as your paddle slices movement from the water that sometimes is still.
In Case Some Clarification Would Help
I would like to bring you in on an underscored necessity of my life as a follower of Christ. About six years ago I wrote a sermon entitled Achieve New Balance and have been blessed to present it for several different churches. I won’t repeat the whole sermon here, but the primary thrust of it comes in the form of a visual illustration. It is so much more difficult to describe a sermon than it is to preach one, but I’ll try, because the truth of it continues to show itself crucial. And I’ve come to realize that there may be some who misunderstand what balance is.
Imagine or perform this task: Take an umbrella and hold it horizontally. Place a finger or the edge of your hand under the middle of it, and try to balance it. It’s difficult. Imagine that at one end are the interests of Christ, and at the other end are the interests of the world or self, and this is what you’re tring to balance. Good luck! The two ends moving in opposite directions with your finger as the pivot are hard to control. Even if you do get the two sides to behave and stay horizontal, a slight movement will upset the arrangement and it starts to topple again.
The problem is that we forget a mighty-but-quiet truth that John (the Baptizer) taught anyone who happened to be listening. John 3:30 — “He must increase, but I must decrease.”
Go back to that umbrella that you were trying to balance. Pick it up and hold it horizontally again. Imagine again that the issues and interests of Christ are at the handle end and the issues of self interest are at the opposite tip end. Now, physically apply John’s declaration to it. Raise (increase) the handle end up, while lowering (decreasing) the tip end. The umbrella remains increasingly unstable UNTIL the instrument is completely vertical. Place your finger under the tip end, and you can hold the umbrella in balance like that all day long! A pictoral of a Christian’s life in balance would look like this umbrella — the character of Christ taking full precedence above the values of this world and interests of self.
Now, take your eyes away from Christ at the top and watch the bottom end of the umbrella where your own stuff is. What happens? The umbrella keeps moving but you can’t see the movement until the fall is too far to stop. Only when the eyes remain on the top can the finger holding the bottom react to the movement and keep the device in balance. But the bottom must move with the top, staying underneath, submitted, or the thing comes crashing down.
The way we are built, we cannot look two places at one time (and similarly the heart cannot love/serve two masters). While the umbrella is horizontal, we can only occupy ourselves with the interests of Christ or with the interests of the world; it can’t be both. And even if balance could be achieved in this position, the visual message it gives is that Christ and self/world are on the same level of importance — not a pleasing statement to a God who wants no competitors! When the umbrella goes vertical, our attention to Christ at the top takes care of the entire outfit. Balance is achieved when we watch the promises of Christ rather than the insecurities of self.
That’s what balance is. It’s about the top and Who occupies it. It’s not about right or left. It’s not remotely related to political correctness. I like the fact that my particular denomination has been referred to as occupying the “extreme center.” (Not that it’s always true, but it sure sounds good.) Nothing is more extreme than balance, and balance can only be known if Christ is at the center of one’s vision, trust, aspiration, passion, ethics, action.
This is balance, not some tippy equalibrium that is obliterated by movement…but an upright, eye-locking dance that thrives in movement. It is kinetic and cathartic, holy and devastating, astringently disallowing the greasy grip of religion any hold that would choke away the Spirit’s breath. He must increase, but I must decrease. Anything else is not balance for a Christian. And anything not balanced is a faith too off-center and scary for me.
No, it’s not a perfect illustration, but that’s good, because then it might be an idol. And too many of those already hound gentle souls who are just trying to follow.
Thank you for reading. Allow me to clarify further if I’ve raised additional questions.
