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Service Times
Sunday Mornings Worship Service- 9:00 a.m. Sunday School- 10:15 a.m. |
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Driving around town last week, I (Robert) was flipping through local radio stations, and I dropped into the middle of a conversation two music station DJs were having.
One of the DJs appeared to be criticizing electric cars, and he said to the other DJ something like: So you plug these cars into an outlet at night, and you don’t have to go to the gas station anymore, but where does the electricity come from? Well, I’ll tell you – coal. You’re burning a bunch of coal to power your electric car. And, that’s terrible for the environment. And, what about the batteries these electric and hybrid cars have? When these electric cars give out, disposing of their batteries is another environmental mess.
It seemed like the DJ was saying all of this to argue the pointlessness of electric cars, even while he acknowledged burning coal and gasoline were not particularly healthy things to do. It all sounded rather bitter and hopeless to me.
My hunch is that the DJ was overstating his case. But, even if what he said about Prius batteries and the electrical grid were completely correct, his hopelessness didn’t have to be the only possible perspective.
I mean, somebody could make the exact same statements about electrical generation and battery disposal and then say with hope, “And so we need to continue to reduce our reliance on fossil fuels and invest more to improve electric car batteries.”
Christian faith is not eternally hopeful because it pretends away the experience of sin, suffering, cruelty, despair, and death. Or because it tries to anesthetize us from the hard edges of life (and of our mistakes) with a pill named “God”.
Christian faith is eternally hopeful because the story of the faith walks us right through the valley of the shadow of death and then calls out with an unexpected rush of wonder and hope, “And yet! And yet!”
In the Book of Exodus, the people were slaves condemned to bake bricks, live bleak lives, and fall dead into shallow graves. And yet God called them to follow Moses out into the wilderness and into something new.
In the prophets, we’re repeatedly told that the people had forgotten both God and how to love one another. We’re told that eventually the people found themselves in exile, scattered, far from home and perhaps even further from hope.
And yet the prophet Isaiah says, “5 Do not fear, for I the Lord am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you. 6 I will say to the north, ‘Give them up,’ and to the south, ‘Do not withhold; bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the end of the earth….’”
In the gospels, Jesus is betrayed, beaten, abandoned, and strung up till dead. Any who walk by his cross see a complete failure and a dead criminal. There is no way around it; there is no denying it.
And yet Mary from Magdala meets the risen Christ walking in the garden near his empty tomb, and she hears his familiar voice call out her name. And, later that same day, Mary herself calls out to the defeated disciples, “I have seen the Lord!”
Pessimism. Cynicism. Bitterness. Hopelessness. These all can come easy to me. And yet I am a follower of Jesus Christ, so they can never be the final words about my life, the church, the earth. Jesus commands it be otherwise, and I am called to follow him the best I can.
Today is Friday the 20th of September; it is the day of the Global Climate Strike. Thousands upon thousands of students will strike from school to gather and bring attention to climate issues.
For some, this is a positive event rightly demanding overdue action to address the critical issue of our time. For others, it is a big hubbub about nothing. So be it.
As I write this, I’m thinking about all of this in terms of hope. From where I live my life, it does not look like I am handing on a healthy planet and culture to my daughter’s generation. When I say that, it does not sound radical to me. (It’s kind of like how it seemed neither DJ found it radical to suggest burning coal and oil probably weren’t the healthiest ways to power cars and homes.)
No, saying that doesn’t sound wild-eyed and radical. I’m pretty sure I’m handing on some massive, gnarly stuff to my daughter’s generation. But I also want to hand on hopefulness. I want to hand on a “Christ is Risen from the Dead” sort of hopefulness that can face the worst and still say, “And yet God….”
I want to hand that kind of clear-eyed hopefulness on to my daughter and her generation, even if that means they look at me and say, “You made so many mistakes with the way you handled the church, the culture, and the earth. Even if dark days are coming, it is time for us to do something very different, something more hopeful than you were capable of. We owe that to everyone, including to God.”
One of the DJs appeared to be criticizing electric cars, and he said to the other DJ something like: So you plug these cars into an outlet at night, and you don’t have to go to the gas station anymore, but where does the electricity come from? Well, I’ll tell you – coal. You’re burning a bunch of coal to power your electric car. And, that’s terrible for the environment. And, what about the batteries these electric and hybrid cars have? When these electric cars give out, disposing of their batteries is another environmental mess.
It seemed like the DJ was saying all of this to argue the pointlessness of electric cars, even while he acknowledged burning coal and gasoline were not particularly healthy things to do. It all sounded rather bitter and hopeless to me.
My hunch is that the DJ was overstating his case. But, even if what he said about Prius batteries and the electrical grid were completely correct, his hopelessness didn’t have to be the only possible perspective.
I mean, somebody could make the exact same statements about electrical generation and battery disposal and then say with hope, “And so we need to continue to reduce our reliance on fossil fuels and invest more to improve electric car batteries.”
Christian faith is not eternally hopeful because it pretends away the experience of sin, suffering, cruelty, despair, and death. Or because it tries to anesthetize us from the hard edges of life (and of our mistakes) with a pill named “God”.
Christian faith is eternally hopeful because the story of the faith walks us right through the valley of the shadow of death and then calls out with an unexpected rush of wonder and hope, “And yet! And yet!”
In the Book of Exodus, the people were slaves condemned to bake bricks, live bleak lives, and fall dead into shallow graves. And yet God called them to follow Moses out into the wilderness and into something new.
In the prophets, we’re repeatedly told that the people had forgotten both God and how to love one another. We’re told that eventually the people found themselves in exile, scattered, far from home and perhaps even further from hope.
And yet the prophet Isaiah says, “5 Do not fear, for I the Lord am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you. 6 I will say to the north, ‘Give them up,’ and to the south, ‘Do not withhold; bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the end of the earth….’”
In the gospels, Jesus is betrayed, beaten, abandoned, and strung up till dead. Any who walk by his cross see a complete failure and a dead criminal. There is no way around it; there is no denying it.
And yet Mary from Magdala meets the risen Christ walking in the garden near his empty tomb, and she hears his familiar voice call out her name. And, later that same day, Mary herself calls out to the defeated disciples, “I have seen the Lord!”
Pessimism. Cynicism. Bitterness. Hopelessness. These all can come easy to me. And yet I am a follower of Jesus Christ, so they can never be the final words about my life, the church, the earth. Jesus commands it be otherwise, and I am called to follow him the best I can.
Today is Friday the 20th of September; it is the day of the Global Climate Strike. Thousands upon thousands of students will strike from school to gather and bring attention to climate issues.
For some, this is a positive event rightly demanding overdue action to address the critical issue of our time. For others, it is a big hubbub about nothing. So be it.
As I write this, I’m thinking about all of this in terms of hope. From where I live my life, it does not look like I am handing on a healthy planet and culture to my daughter’s generation. When I say that, it does not sound radical to me. (It’s kind of like how it seemed neither DJ found it radical to suggest burning coal and oil probably weren’t the healthiest ways to power cars and homes.)
No, saying that doesn’t sound wild-eyed and radical. I’m pretty sure I’m handing on some massive, gnarly stuff to my daughter’s generation. But I also want to hand on hopefulness. I want to hand on a “Christ is Risen from the Dead” sort of hopefulness that can face the worst and still say, “And yet God….”
I want to hand that kind of clear-eyed hopefulness on to my daughter and her generation, even if that means they look at me and say, “You made so many mistakes with the way you handled the church, the culture, and the earth. Even if dark days are coming, it is time for us to do something very different, something more hopeful than you were capable of. We owe that to everyone, including to God.”
“What I like about Park Hill Christian Church is our God
blessed outreach programs
touching so many people in spiritual and physical need.”
~Member, Sandy Shipley
blessed outreach programs
touching so many people in spiritual and physical need.”
~Member, Sandy Shipley
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