Journeys

by the Rev. Nancy Christensen

"Wouldn't take nothing for my journey now."
— Maya Angelou


“Everything’s good! I’m about 50 miles in so far. I love you!”

The text message flashed at 1:27 p.m. on Thursday, March 24, just as my plane was landing in Atlanta from Chicago. It may not seem very significant, but every small word I receive from my son Michael these days gets my full attention. Last Saturday, March 19, he set out on foot from the approach trail at Amicalola Falls in north Georgia to hike 2,188 miles on the Appalachian Trail, spanning 14 states. Sometime in late August or early September, he will finish his hike at Mount Katahdin in Maine.

This is a journey he has been wanting to make for about 20 of his 24 years; a trek he has dreamed about, and talked about for as long as I can remember. I knew how important it was to him, and I had every confidence that he would always be physically active; but I confess that I wasn’t absolutely sure he’d be able to go through with an endeavor this great. Not even accounting for the time commitment and the cost involved, I just suspected that the physical endurance required would make this journey nearly impossible.

But, he is on his way! He’s following the white blazes, pushing himself to the limit, and joining with other hikers – finding community – as he goes. Whether he makes it “all the way” or not isn’t really the point any more – he has taken the first step into a life experience that will forever change him.

The journey metaphor permeates our scriptural narrative, and stands at the heart of our understanding of the Lenten season as well. The earliest Christians called themselves “the Way.” A common experience with God has been held in the images of “exodus” and “exile.” For centuries, Christians, and
those of other religious traditions, have gone on pilgrimage to those places they consider holy. So, however else you understand it, the life of faith is an excursion – from youth to age, from innocence to experience, from ignorance to wisdom, from death to life.

For all of us, whether we’re moving through the regular patterns of our lives, or walking 2,200 miles at a stretch, there is opportunity. So, in honor of Michael, and in the spirit of this season, perhaps we might take time to consider the journeys we have already taken, both actual and spiritual, as well as the expeditions that await us in the future.

We begin by considering that in any kind of travel, there is always both the leaving, and the arriving. The ways we prepare for our journeys personally, and interact with others in our comings and goings, directly affects our overall experience. When we “sneak away” without saying good-bye, for example, we literally leave things hanging, and we miss the opportunities we are given to express ourselves to one another. Likewise, when we arrive someplace new, or when someone arrives in our midst, we are given the occasion to be welcoming, and to form a new relationship.

Travel is also transitional, in its very nature. There is always change involved, and adjustment required. Whether we are just visiting a place for a short time, or moving for forever, we are vulnerable to circumstances and situations which are different than what’s “normal.” Allowances must be made, and patience must be practiced – there must be love and understanding shared on all sides so that the changes will be healthy for everyone.

Our journeys can be fun and exciting, too, if we are ready and open to the workings of the Spirit! New growth and learning is the greatest benefit when we dare to step away from “home base” and move boldly into the wild blue yonder! As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are called to follow the “white blazes” that he has provided for us, to overcome our fear, and to reach out into the world around us. We are called to change, as change is needed, and we are blessed to know the transformation that comes when we follow the new path that the gospel makes possible for us every day.

Let us, therefore, embrace the excursion of faith – from youth to age, from innocence to experience, from ignorance to wisdom, from death to new life!

(You can follow Michael’s journey at http://mikesathike.blogspot.com.)

A reflection for Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent

Pastor Michael Lippard, St. Andrew, Franklin, TN.
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17; Psalm 103:8-14; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

With the possible exception of Halloween and All Saints’ Day, probably no two consecutive days on the calendar are more opposite one another than yesterday and today. Shrove Tuesday, Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras is all about fullness, feasting, carnival, revelry and costume. Like Halloween, it is a day for masks, pranks and parties

What a contrast with Ash Wednesday, a somber, sober day to get real with ourselves and with God. Like the day after Halloween, All Saints’ Day, on the day after Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, the masks are put away. The scripture readings appointed for the day confront us with some cold, hard facts about what it means to be human beings. As ashes are applied to our foreheads, we remember that we are dust, and to dust we shall return. Instead of a colorful party mask, we wear a black smudge of a cross, a stark reminder of our mortality.

This is the prophet Joel’s message: now is the time to get real, now is the time to unmask: “Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning.” Joel realized that our outward expressions of returning to God in worship might themselves mask a very different internal reality: so “rend your hearts and not your clothing,” he cautioned. Worship, too, can become a sham, a bit of play-acting.

Jesus addresses the same issue in today’s gospel. Both Joel and Jesus challenge us to move beyond the behaviors of fasting, weeping and mourning. They call us to shift our focus from what we are doing so we can see what God does and who God is. We are invited to stand without masks, without defenses in God’s presence because God is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.” This affirmation about God’s friendly attitude toward us occurs throughout scripture. It is repeated in the 103rd Psalm, a portion of which we also read today: “Lord, you are full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” God’s love reaches out to the real you and the real me, inviting us to shed the masks we all wear.

While Joel talks about fasting, weeping, and mourning, Jesus speaks of almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. These three traditional Jewish spiritual practices were adopted by both Christianity and Islam. The three great monotheistic religions that originated in the deserts of the Middle East all encourage almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. Speaking about each of these spiritual disciplines, Jesus cautions against hypocrisy. If you look up the word hypocrite in a dictionary, you’ll discover that it originally meant an actor. The purpose of giving, prayer and fasting is not to show off our faith or piety, but to deepen our relationship with God.

Fr. Thomas Keating speaks and writes about the false self system. The basic idea is that all of us present a false self or a mask to the world to protect ourselves in interactions with others. Of course, we normally do not talk about someone’s false self; instead, we talk about their personality. Our words person and personality, like the word hypocrite, derive from a term that originated in Greek theater: the masks the actors (or hypocrites!) wore were called personas. The actors often played multiple roles in a play, so they wore different masks, different personas, depending on the part they were playing.

The work of Lent is to seek to become more open to God’s presence and action within us. We invite God to remove our masks, our personas, the persons we pretend to be, so that we can become more real and authentic, so that God’s image can become more deeply imprinted upon us.

God knows what we’ve got, the baggage each and every one of us carries, and the guilt and shame we try to hide. On Ash Wednesday, we are reminded that God is not out to get us, but is compassionate and merciful. Even if it was possible, there is no need for us to hide from God. We are free to deepen our friendship, trusting that God accepts, forgives and covers every sinner, actor and hypocrite with the image of God’s own Son, Jesus.

Third Pocket Giving

by the Rev. Darrel Peterson, Assistant to the Bishop

When I refer to third pocket giving, I’m thinking of first pocket giving being what Christians give to their Lord and church in their basic pledge. I’m thinking of second pocket giving as what folks give charitably to both sacred and secular causes. Third pocket giving is what we give charitably as planned gifts or as bequests when we die.

I recently had a conversation with an older woman who was thinking about her third pocket giving. She already has two planned gifts in place to an outdoor ministry and to a social service agency. I asked her, “What part of your resources at death would you probably not pass on to family?” She thought for awhile and then responded, “I think about 50%”. Now, this is a woman who gives generously via both first and second pockets. She believes in giving to make a difference. She is a strong proponent of giving mission support to synod and churchwide.

Then I asked her, “Are you going to leave a bequest to your congregation?” She laughed and said, “I’m not that dumb. Why, they’d be fighting over what to do with it. They would probably not be able to agree and would end up putting it in their “rainy day” fund. In the meantime, some folks would decrease their giving because now the church has money and doesn’t need as much. I want to leave my assets where there is a mission and a plan for receiving it.”

This woman’s reluctance to leave a bequest to her congregation may or may not be an isolated case. Many congregations’ attitudes when it comes to legacy giving, include: 1. Legacy and endowment gifts…maybe someday. Right now we need to worry about annual giving. 2. When we have a session on legacy giving, only a few folks show up, and most of those that do, don’t have any real money anyway. 3. Endowment giving might take away from regular giving. (It doesn’t)

Congregations need to have a missional plan for receiving special gifts and bequests. This policy needs to be publicized positively and regularly in the congregation. The plan needs to be shared with congregational and area financial professionals. (I once knew an estate planning attorney, who while working with clients with a tax issue and without any real charitable preference, would suggest a local agency or the nearest Catholic church.)

Congregations need to develop and maintain professional, accountable and transparent financial records and procedures. (Borrowing from a designated account to fund a shortfall does not “play well” ethically nor does it give assurance to prospective third pocket donors.

Finally, congregations need to do a better job of talking about money. Often we hear people
complain because a pastor or a congregation leader talks too much about money. What they usually mean it that they hear too much about giving to the church, often in concentrated doses when offerings are behind or when it is “stewardship Sunday”. It is also possible that they complain out of a less than generous heart.

What is "old?"

by the Rev. Dr. Delmer Chilton
Assistant to the Bishop, Southeastern Synod

I was talking to an old friend the other day, mostly about being old. (Today is my birthday; this is the sort of thing one thinks about on birthdays, at least those of us of a certain age.) Now according to my mother, who is 81, 57 is not at all old. According to my great-nephew, who is 15, I am old as dirt itself. The truth, as in most things, lies somewhere in the middle.

My friend and I were discussing our days as young pastors in the church of the late 70s; remembering the great ideas we had about how to improve and fix and correct all the mistakes made by those who served the church before us. Looking back from the vantage point of thirty-five years, we were laughing at how wrong we were about so many things. More than being wrong, we were just so not prophetic about the oncoming shape of the future.

And now, we are the elders, the old ones who have spent thirty plus years messing up the church; or at least that’s what we’ve been told by many of those younger than us. And we laugh, because we know two things: 1) they’re sort of right; and 2) their turn to be wrong is coming.

It is the nature of the church that many of the externals of who we are change with the culture around us. "Style issues" I guess you would call them. What the ministers wear, both in and out of the pulpit; the kind of music we play and sing; where the youth group goes on mission trips, etc. etc.

But it seems to me that in the midst of the new there is always the old. Filmstrips, movie projectors, video-tapes and TVs on carts or DVDs, laptops and multi-media projectors–it’s still the Gospel we’re trying to preach and teach.

The old Lutheran idea of adiaphora comes in handy here. Too often we think this old way of doing church is essential to being the church, we have to do it this way. Or, we sometimes think, if we don’t do it this new way, the church will just wither away and die. And the truth is, neither of these things is true.

What is essential to being the church is as old as the letters of St. Paul and as new as Twitter. We are the community who God has called together to love each other and the world. We are a people whose purpose is to praise and celebrate God and to invite all others to praise and celebrate God. As long as the old, old message of God’s love is underneath all that we do and say with each other and the world; then how we say it will be shaped by love. The new and old ways we teach and preach Christ will not be ends in themselves, but will be formed by a desire to reach everyone with the grace of God.