If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. --Psalm 139:8 NRSV At times I've had the honor of teaching undergraduate classes on the Bible (not bad for somebody who dropped out of a New Testament Ph.D. program). I always begin the course by attempting to demonstrate that the Bible is not one book written by a single author but rather a collection of 66 writings (more depending on the denomination one is a part of) written by different authors, in different languages and in different centuries. On some things, such as idolatry or caring for poor people, the Bible is for the most part consistent, but on many more things there is a diversity or at least a development of thought by the various authors. The afterlife is one of the latter. In my undergraduate courses, I give them an overview of appearances of the word "Hell" in the Bible. It's pretty brief, because "Hell" doesn't appear in the Bible. Oh, it certainly appears in English translations of the Hebrew and Greek, but the words we read as "Hell" really mean something different than we realize.
death to exist in a shade-like manner. Everyone goes there, both good and bad.
righteous people is depicted.
(Wisdom of Solomon appears in what Protestants call the Apocrypha and exclude from their Bibles but Catholic, Orthodox and Anglican churches include in theirs.)
time. Jesus and Paul sided with the Pharisees who believed all of the dead would be resurrected for a final judgment. Until that time, your dead loved ones apparently remain dead and not in heaven immediately like we speak of so often today.
speaks in vague terms about "darkness," "gnashing of teeth," and "Gehenna" the spot outside Jerusalem where people burned their trash. A couple of times Jesus uses the term "Hades" the Greek term for the underworld or abode of the dead.
be with me in paradise." Apparently that guy gets to skip the whole resurrection of the dead thing at the end of time all together.
afterlife where bad souls are punished.
descended into the lower parts of the earth." These verses along with later Christian tradition was interpreted to mean between Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection Christ descended into Hell or Hades or wherever to stage a cosmic breakout freeing all the souls who died before Jesus showed up. This is stated in the Apostle's Creed with the line "He descended into Hell. . ."
Throughout Christian history, various theologians, thinkers and ordinary believers have questioned whether a soul really remained in Hell forever or, if there was another option like purgatory. More recent theologians (and a few ancient ones) have questioned whether the idea of everlasting torment as a consequence of what one did in a single mortal life, no matter how bad that life was, is consistent with a God who is both just and merciful. Others have gone so far as to reject the doctrine of Hell altogether. Despite the impression given in most churches, TV preachers and popular culture, there is a diversity of belief among scripture and tradition when it comes to the afterlife. If there is a Hell, of which I have my doubts, I like the way Frederick Buechner writes about it: Since the damned are said to suffer as dismally in the next world as they do in this one, they must still have enough life left in them to suffer with, . . Dante saw written over the gates of Hell the words "Abandon all hope ye who enter here," but he must have seen wrong. If there is suffering life in Hell, there must also be hope in Hell, because where there is life there is the Lord and giver of life, and where there is suffering he is there too because the suffering of the ones he loves is also his suffering. "He descended into Hell," the Creed says, and " If I make my bed in Sheol, thou art there," the Psalmist (139:8). It seems there is no depth to which he will not sink. Many Christians will err on the side of God's holiness, righteousness or God's justice in their belief in Hell--they all seem to be certain they aren't going there, but I tend to believe those appeals sound much more like self-righteousness, pretentious holiness and a human desire for revenge rather than justice. If I am going to err, I'm going to err on the side of God's love, mercy and grace. If the Incarnation of God in Christ means anything, it means there is no depth that God won't sink to in order to reach the ones God loves, even death on a cross and maybe even a trip to Hell, Hades or whatever. I don't spend too much time trying to make sense of Hell, even though I know most Christians do. I'm much more interested in the truth, that there is no "hell" in this life where God is not present with us. No matter how much we screw up, no matter how much we suffer or hurt, whether we can perceive it or not, there is no escape from God. God is always with us offering us love, mercy and grace. That is good news indeed during these days of pandemic, social upheaval and political uncertainty. Psalm 139 says if we ascend to heaven, descend into the pit of Sheol or go anywhere in between, we will still find God there waiting for us. God is there in the isolated deathbeds of COVID patients, God is there in the quarantined retirement home, God is there with overwhelmed parents and kids at home during the pandemic, God is there with essential workers on the job, God is with you wherever you are. Not even Hell is powerful enough to prevent God from being with you. Grace and Peace, Chase
0 Comments
But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into
Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love. --Ephesians 4:15-16 NRSV What brings a new person to church? It’s a tough question to answer, because in most churches like PHCC, the members have been a part of the church so long they barely remember what originally made them visit. In conversations I’ve had with PHCC folks, many people cite two factors: invitation from friends and family or looking for a Disciples church when they relocated nearby. As denominations decline (unfortunately the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ is not immune to this decline), fewer people than ever look at a church’s denomination. What hasn’t changed, however is the influence of family and friends. I recall one church member telling me they came to PHCC, because they worked at TWA with a church member who regularly shared what PHCC meant to them. When that coworker decided to look for a church, they remembered the good things the church member had said. The lesson: church members who share with others about what their church means to them attract new members. If church folks aren’t saying good things about their churches, then something is amiss. Throughout my career I have heard from older members who are retired and who’s social circles have shrunk, “All my friends have their own churches.” That may be true, but the other people in your lives may not have a faith community. Your beautician, barber, repair man, the staff at your retirement community, house cleaner and so on, presuming one actually speaks with them, may need a church. As you share about yourself and your life with others, what do you tell them about what your church means to you? If you don’t share that, why not? It remains true that your next pastor will have a lot to do with whether or not PHCC attracts new members, but speaking as a minister, I’m convinced pastors have far less influence on new members than people think. I believe church members whose lives are enriched by being a part of a church will naturally share that experience with others. That sharing will be the most important factor in whether or not new people come to PHCC. The most charismatic and dynamic pastor in the world cannot attract and keep new people at a church if the congregation is not genuinely alive in a spiritual sense. Pew Research Center on Religion and Public Life (the best polling out there on religion) did a study in 2018 which showed the top things people are looking for in a new church: 82% good quality sermons 79% feeling welcomed by leaders 74% style of worship 70% location 56% education for children 48% having friends or family in the congregation 42% availability of opportunities to volunteer 25% other factors This polling doesn’t quite match my experience in church’s like PHCC. Yes, people want a good sermon. There are few occasions anymore where people actually sit and listen to someone talking for 15 minutes or more, so the preaching had better be good. That being said, I’m convinced that’s not why people come back to church for a second visit, at least not the kind of people who actually get involved in community. I’ve had people attend worship in the churches I’ve served largely because they like my sermons, but few, if any, of them got involved in the church much less became members. I think what matters most of all as to whether people will show up at church and keep showing up is whether they feel welcome and included. Think about it, most long-term members at PHCC have been through a number of ministers with mixed experiences. But what has kept people involved in the life of the church are the relationships. Connections with other members are the biggest reason people stay in a church. From my experience in ministry, a good preacher may get someone in the door, but even the best preachers can’t keep people from going out the back door and never coming back. Relationships are what build a church. I realize I have not experienced PHCC in its “normal” form. The pandemic has severely limited what we can do together. I’m not sure what the future looks like for PHCC or any other church after the pandemic, but I am sure that two things will still matter most of all for the future health of the congregation: a membership that naturally shares about what their church means to them with others and a membership that builds relationships through small groups, volunteering and social gatherings. In the future, how these connections happen may change—for example more may happen online, but those connections must happen if a church is to grow. Of course, a qualified and talented pastor matters for the vitality of this church, but even the best minister cannot attract new members when the members who are already there do not experience spiritual transformation. In my career, as the minister I’ve been expected to be a sort of savior for declining churches, as if I had a box of magic tricks that would automatically bring new people to the church. I’ve tried a lot of things with churches—marketing and advertising, online outreach, ministry in the community and more. While all of those things are important, the success of each of them depended on what the church was already doing and who the church already was. I can look back and see how we spent a lot of energy on my part and that of key leaders, along with a lot of money, and I now know that every effort’s success depended on the spiritual health of the congregation. Churches without members dedicated to growing spiritually in their own lives are not going to grow as a faith community. Churches without strong relationships among its members are not going to attract new people. A new pastor matters, but not as much as church members themselves. Grace and Peace, Rev. Chase Peeples Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed
away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” --Revelation 21:1-4 NRSV Recently in Sunday morning worship one of our elders shared about how she was watching post-apocalyptic movies as a coping mechanism during the COVID-10 pandemic. She and I spoke briefly about our favorite post-apocalyptic films following the service. Like her, I love watching movies and TV shows about zombie apocalypses. Unlike her I’m not one for movies about viral pandemics like Contagion. I was never very good at science class and chemistry baffled me. Also, maybe I just have a violent streak, and it’s more satisfying for me to imagine blowing apart zombies with shotguns. (I’m not sure if that’s a good thing for a pastor to admit or not.) I’ve been a fan of post-apocalyptic movies for a long time. I’m pretty sure it was a way for coping with my childhood and teenage fears about the “Evil Empire” of the Soviet Union and the United States destroying the world with nuclear weapons. It was somehow comforting to watch The Road Warrior and Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome and see people surviving after the world fell apart (albeit it in a whole lot of leather and punk haircuts). Disaster films have probably always been a means of addressing the anxiety in a particular culture whether it was the Cold War seen through the lens of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, the tumult of the Civil Rights era as seen in Oscar Romero’s Night of the Living Dead or diseases like mad cow disease in 28 Days Later or swine flue in Train to Busan. Our cinematic depictions of the end of the world as we know it reveal to us our own current anxieties. Seeing plucky protagonists survive the apocalypse can be a catharsis. In recent days, I’ve begun to wonder if we have reached a limit to our violent end of the world stories. At what point do our fantasies about the future permeate a culture enough to shape the way we view our own future? When both conservatives and liberals have been buying up guns and ammo afraid of post-election violence, maybe we need to slow down on imbibing stories that depict the world teetering on collapse. I recently read a piece by Cory Doctorow, a sci-fi and techno thriller author, who says he has changed the way he writes about the future because things are getting so bad in American culture. He writes that the idea that we are on the brink of collapsing into Mad Max: Fury Road just isn’t true. It makes for good stories, but those stories don’t reflect the truth of the world as I see it. Humanity is, on balance, good. We have done remarkable things. The fact that we remain here today, after so many disasters in our species’ history, is a reminder that we are a species of self-rescuing princesses—characters who save one another in crisis, rather than turning on ourselves. Doctorow points to books like Rebecca Solnit’s 2009 non-fiction book A Paradise Built in Hell, which despite the ominous title, demonstrates that “crises are when our species shines, moments of great personal and group sacrifice.” So, Doctorow is now writing novels that explore the very real threats to our world while also depicting heroes coming together and meeting those challenges. I think Doctorow is not alone in this opinion. I was drawn to a new series on Amazon Prime Video called Utopia which promises lots of end of the world fun, but reviews have been somewhat negative. In the age of over 200,000 people dead from COVID-19 and predictions of violence the day after the presidential election, stories of mass violence can seem tasteless. Maybe I’ll wait until next year to watch that series when hopefully stories of societal upheaval feel more like fiction again. I’ve ben struggling to recall whether any of the apocalyptic movies, TV shows and books I’ve read actually depict society coming together to meet the challenge of the world’s demise. The only one I can think of is the book World War Z by Max Brooks (Ignore the movie adaptation starring Brad Piit, it’s nothing like the book.) Brooks is the son of Hollywood icons Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft. He has spoken extensively about how he was inspired by his parents’ generation who defeated fascism in WWII. (Remember when we all pretty much agreed Nazis were bad?) In World War Z, he tells of America’s response to the zombie menace in terms similar to the war effort of the “Greatest Generation.” Society mobilizes, experts are listened to, people are heroic and sacrifice their own safety for one another. Maybe we need more stories like that these days to remind us how we can work together to make the world a better place rather than just sliding into collapse. All this rumination about post-apocalyptic stories, has also got me thinking about the stories Christians tell about the end of the world. The dominant narrative is one of judgement, destruction and disaster. Christian versions of disaster movies have come in the form of A Thief in the Night and the Left Behind books and films. Both present stories about the Rapture (which isn’t even in the Bible) as the beginning of God destroying the world. No doubt the Bible contains apocalyptic imagery, but the different images do not speak in one voice about how it will happen and who it happens to. The only thing all those passages do agree upon is that God sets everything aright in the end. Christians profess that the ultimate ending of the world is up to God; only God can fully make right what has gone wrong. Yet, at the same time, Christians also profess that the Kingdom of God is not just a future reality but available in the present when love occurs, mercy is shown and those who have the least are made whole. God’s ultimate victory isn’t fully accomplished until whenever time ends, but glimpses of it occur in the here and now when those whom God has created demonstrate sacrificial love for others, whether or not they claim to believe in God or not. In this time of fear, maybe our culture needs more hopeful stories. We don’t need to run to the nearest gun shop and load up on ammo, because despite how bad humans can sometimes be, we are usually not that bad. In the same way, maybe Christians need to be telling more hopeful stories too. Our stories need to be about a God who never abandons us, who cares for us in this life and the next and who ultimately will create a new heaven and a new earth where there is room enough for everyone. Grace and Peace, Rev. Chase Peeples Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a
single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. --John 12:24 NRSV It’s October, but lately here n the KC metro area it has felt like June with temperatures in the high 80’s. With the pandemic and times of lockdown including kids not being in school, it has already been difficult to keep track of the passing of time this year. Why should autumn obey the seasonal norms when it’s been so disorienting this year? I’m not a big fan of autumn. I like the cooler temperatures after the mugginess of August in the Midwest, but I’m keenly aware winter is coming. Once the leaves fall from the trees, the landscape of the Midwest turns brown and dead-looking. Sure the first snow falls are fun and pretty (if they ever come which is questionable in these days of climate change), but soon the snow turns to piles of gray slush. Spring seems to take too long in coming. Autumn, therefore, is a season of anticipatory grief for me. I’m glad I’m not alone in feeling this way. One of my favorite authors, Parker Palmer, writes that autumn is a season of melancholy for him. He writes: I’m a professional melancholic, and for years my delight in the autumn color show quickly morphed into sadness as I watched the beauty die. Focused on the browning of summer’s green growth, I allowed the prospect of death to eclipse all that’s life-giving about fall and its sensuous delights. Yet, Palmer isn’t content to just feel bummed about autumn the way I do. He wrote a book about the value of paradoxes in our lives, so he has learned to appreciate that even though autumn is a season of things dying, it holds the promise of future life (this is a long quotation, but I promise it is worth reading): Today, at age 76 — as I weather the autumn of my own life — I find nature a trustworthy guide. It’s easy to fixate on everything that goes to ground as time goes by: the disintegration of a relationship, the disappearance of good work well-done, the diminishment of a sense of purpose and meaning. But, as I’ve come to understand that life “composts” and “seeds” us as autumn does the earth, I’ve seen how possibility gets planted in us even in the most difficult of times. Looking back, I see how the job I lost pushed me to find work that was mine to do, how the “road closed” sign turned me toward terrain I’m glad I traveled, how losses that felt irredeemable forced me to find new sources of meaning. In each of these experiences, it felt like something was dying, and so it was. And yet deep-down, amid all the falling, silently and lavishly the seeds of new life were always being sown. The hopeful notion that new life is hidden in dying is surely reinforced by the visual glories of autumn. What artist would paint a deathbed scene with the vibrant and vital palette nature uses? Perhaps death possesses a grace that we who fear dying, who find it ugly and even obscene, cannot see. How shall we understand nature’s testimony that dying itself — as devastating as we know it can be — contains the hope of a certain beauty? As Christians, we profess to believe that death is only the transition from one way of living into another way of living. This truth we call resurrection, and it is a truth available to us not just at the end of our lives but in the midst of our lives as things die and we discover new life afterward. If you’re like me and autumn feels like a time of anticipatory grief for winter, perhaps we need to shift our perception about autumn. Autumn’s beauty offers us a chance to appreciate the glory of life in this moment. It’s lesson is that some of life’s most beautiful and even glorious moments are ones that are not permanent. If we are so busy grieving the certain and eventual end of our careers, the time when our children are home with us before the enter adulthood, and even our very lives, we never stop and take in the wonderful moments available to us in the here and now. Autumn offers us not just a lesson on future life beyond capital “D” death and lowercase “d” deaths that occur in our lives, it also offers us a lesson in capital “L” life here and now as we take in the beaty happening right now. Whether you are able to get outside and look at the changing leaves or you can only move yourself to a window in order to look outside at the foliage, take some time to look at the changing leaves and the lesson autumn offers us. If you find yourself getting melancholy like I do, that’s okay. Take a moment, feel that feeling, then take a breath and open yourself up to something new God wants to show you about this season. One of the daily email devotionals I subscribe to sent out this poem today by Ted Loder from his book Guerillas of Grace, it expresses well a prayer we can offer as this season changes. O extravagant God, in this ripening, red-tinged autumn, waken in me a sense of joy in just being alive, joy for nothing in general except everything in particular; joy in sun and rain mating with earth to birth a harvest; joy in soft light through shyly disrobing trees; joy in acolyte moon setting halos around processing clouds; joy in the beating of a thousand wings mysteriously knowing which way is warm; joy in wagging tails and kids’ smiles and in this spunky old city; joy in the taste of bread and wine, the smell of dawn, a touch, a song, a presence; joy in having what I cannot live without -- other people to hold and cry and laugh with joy in love, in you; and that all at first and last is grace. —Ted Loder, Guerrillas of Grace Grace and Peace, Rev. Chase Peeples “8so we cared for you. Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with
you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well.” --I Thessalonians 2:8 For many of us the Spirit has been active in our lives, and when we think on it, we find ourselves living truly glorious existences. When we think of gifts, we think of receiving and giving. Just as we have received, we have a responsibility to give back. As Paul suggest in the verse above, when we love we are delighted to share “not only the gospel”, “but our lives”. In our walk toward Bold Hospitality, we have been granted many gifts and one of those gifts is mentoring. Mentoring can take many shapes and forms. Currently, we are limited in the things we can do together, but that doesn’t mean we can’t begin planning for the time when we can come together. An area we would like to build on is reaching out to our community in ways that impact their lives. And mentoring can have a very large impact on our community’s life. Over this period of the pandemic pray and think of ways we can reach out to those in our area. We might be able to build life skills for teenagers about to leave (or who have recently left) school. Things like, how to set a budget, balance a check book and how to set goals. We can lead or assist in programs aimed at young parents on how to care for their growing families. Think of people you know; what are they needing? Think of things you wish someone had sat you down and explained when you were young, these are the areas where we can mentor. What about cooking skills, meal planning, even vacation planning. There really are a multitude of areas where we can offer training to those who make their home in our neighborhood. As we pray and think about the needs of our community, we can begin preparing for the days when we will once again be able to fully open our doors to the public. The most important piece of this is that all of us can be involved in mentoring. We don’t have to have special skills; we only need to be willing to share our experiences. We have been called to be followers of Christ. We are called to be Christ like in our dealings with everyone. And the great joy is that we have the Spirit to guide us in our reaching out to the world. Let us care for our community and share out of love, not just the gospel of redeeming grace, but also the joy of life that we have found in Christ. Kathy Hendrix Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with
thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. --Philippians 4:6 NRSV Acquaintances of mine from seminary days, Jason and Dena Hobbs, have recently released a book, When Anxiety Strikes: Help and Hope for Managing Your Storm. (It's a good year for this book!) Jason is a mental health counselor and Dena is a minister who suffers from anxiety. They share their experiences in the book and offer eight weeks of daily exercises and reflections on scripture to help people with anxiety. Each exercise contains moments for stretching, breathing as well as engaging the mind. What interested me most was their emphasis upon anxiety as a mind-body-spirit experience. When I talked with Dena and Jason about the book, they explained how our "lower brain" located in the back of our heads, the part of the brain necessary for survival which generates the "fight or flight" instinct, can get stuck. We remain locked in this mode of being and our bodies continue to respond accordingly, everything from a raised pulse to secretion of adrenaline. Even when our circumstances stop being a threat, our brains may remain active as if the threat remains. In order to re-engage our frontal cortex, the reasoning part of our brain located in the front of our heads, we sometimes need ways to un-stick our brains. Exercise, stretching, deep breathing and similar activities enable our brains to move from high alert back to something resembling a more realistic picture of our reality. We carry our stress and anxiety in our bodies. They affect our posture, our mobility and even our health. When a masseuse, or yoga instructor speaks of us carrying stress and worry in our back, especially our lower backs, they acknowledge this truth. When we are anxious, even sleep is not an escape, which is why sometimes one can wake up exhausted after a night of fitful sleep. Anxiety affects our whole person including the spiritual parts of who we are. Millennia before humanity had the technology to scan the brain, practitioners of various religious traditions knew the truth of the mind-body connection. Prayer, meditation and even worship involved more than passively receiving information. Along with the benefits of science and reason, the Enlightenment and its emphasis upon the individual's mind and intellectual ideas neglected the connection between our bodies, minds and souls. Movement, singing, kneeling, breathing and even dancing have been a part of worship for as long as humanity has existed, because our physical and spiritual selves are intertwined. When Dena shared her experience of dealing with anxiety as a mental health issue, she also shared her pain of being told by well-meaning Christians who quoted the Apostle Paul from the fourth chapter of Philippians. He exhorts his readers, "Do not be anxious about anything. . . " Dena asked incredulously, "Did they think I hadn't already been praying hard or asking God for help? Let me assure you I prayed with all my might." Her experience is a reminder of the harm Christians cause when they dismiss others' pain with simplistic solutions to complex problems. Simply being present with someone hurting helps far more than trying to fix them. A careful reader of Paul will notice that he doesn't shy away from describing his pain. Indeed, his letter to the Philippian church is one of his so called "prison letters" because Paul wrote them in chains possibly awaiting execution. He was no stranger to stress and anxiety and didn't make his admonition to not worry from a place of ease. As Frederick Buechner writes: {Paul}does not deny that the worst things will happen finally to all of us, as indeed he must have had a strong suspicion they were soon to happen to him. He does not try to minimize them. He does not try to explain them away as God's will or God's judgment or God's method of testing our spiritual fiber. He simply tells the Philippians that in spite of them - even in the thick of them - they are to keep in constant touch with the One who unimaginably transcends the worst things as he also unimaginably transcends the best. Philippians mentions Paul is in chains, but it doesn't mention whether or not Paul breathed deeply, stretched, or sang while he wore them. I think it is reasonable to suppose, however, that Paul wasn't interested in throwing out pithy sayings which ignored the causes of our suffering. Instead, I think Paul called us to encounter the God who created all of us: mind, body and soul. When Paul said, "Rejoice in the Lord always," I believe he meant it as more than just positive thinking but also making our whole selves a part of our spiritual practices. I imagine him under house arrest annoying and maybe even inspiring his jailers with his kneeling, dancing and singing. Just as anxiety and stress can affect our bodies, so also can joy. Grace and Peace, Chase Now as an elder myself and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, as well as one who shares in
the glory to be revealed, I exhort the elders among you to tend the flock of God that is in your charge, exercising the oversight, not under compulsion but willingly, as God would have you do it—not for sordid gain but eagerly. Do not lord it over those in your charge, but be examples to the flock. And when the chief shepherd appears, you will win the crown of glory that never fades away. In the same way, you who are younger must accept the authority of the elders. And all of you must clothe yourselves with humility in your dealings with one another, for “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” --1 Peter 5:1-5 NRSV In the evangelical churches I grew up in, the pastor was often seen as a sort of super-Christian. He (and it was always a he) was a combination prophet/CEO who stood over and above the congregation. If the pastor lacked humility (a virtue in short supply among clergy I knew growing up), his authority went unquestioned, at least right up until the whispered news came out about scandal or abuse. It’s funny how there often seemed to be a correspondence between authoritarian pastors and scandals. When I moved into mainline congregations, it was a bit of a shock to see how little authority was given to pastors. At church board meetings there have been times when I have felt like the “paid Christian” only invited into the room to pray, occasionally bring up scripture and insert Jesus into the conversation. My contributions were ignored while board members made decisions according to whatever values they imported from the business world or the community’s social scene. It was fine to hear a sermon on Sunday, but when it came to money and property the pastor’s voice was ignored. In the “free church” tradition of which the Disciples of Christ is a part, there is no bishop, presbytery or ecclesiastical higher up to tell the local congregation what to do. The local church makes its own decisions regarding ministers, property, bylaws, etc. We also subscribe to the belief in the “priesthood of all believers” which says each person has her own relationship with God and can interpret scripture and tradition without an intermediary between her and God. That’s a lot of freedom, and so figuring out the role of the pastor can be difficult for churches like ours. Ideally, there should be a mix of authority and freedom: authority given to the minister to guide the congregation with the understanding that each member of the congregation has the freedom disagree with that guidance. All my life I have been leery of churches with controlling pastors, but I have learned to be just as leery of churches who dismiss the pastor’s calling to be shepherd and guide. The only way I can see to hold this tension between authority of the minister and freedom of the congregation in a healthy way is through humble commitment demonstrated by all parties. I don’t have room here to discuss what the term “elder” means in the New Testament and how that relates to how our church views clergy and elders, but for simplicity’s sake, we can say the passage from 1 Peter printed above refers to spiritual leaders in the faith community (elders) and the congregation (those who are younger). This classification isn’t about age but about callings, giftedness and maturity in the faith. The point of the passage is not about church organization but rather that all people in the community must be committed to one another and do so with humility. All of this means that a healthy church acts in a way that is radically counter-cultural. In our world today, when a person disagrees with another, person 1 can simply “unfriend” person 2 with a click of a mouse. Then both parties can retreat to their separate cable news channel/internet news provider that will offer a worldview distinct from that of the other person. Compromise is not valued. Healthy disagreement is not allowed. True relationship does not occur. Our churches mirror our culture and become more homogenous by the day. Yet, this is not the kind of relationship we are called to as Christians. From the beginnings of Christianity, Christians have disagreed with one another. At worst, Christians have gone to war against one another. At best, Christians have learned to have healthy conflict where everyone remains committed to loving the other even when they disagree. Committed relationships that can withstand conflict are rare in our culture and increasingly more rare in churches. To have a healthy future, Park Hill Christian Church must learn to disagree in love and humility. That means members must on occasion disagree with their pastor and vice-a-versa. We humans learn best when we encounter views different from our own, the church is no exception to that truth. Yet, many, if not most, churches today are so worried about declining numbers they fear any kind of conflict whatsoever dividing their already dwindling membership rolls. Such fear lacks trust among church members and clergy, and it also lacks trust in God to hold a faith community together in love. So, go ahead and disagree with your next pastor, but do so with humility considering her point of view and trusting she is offering it in love. When you disagree with your future pastor, don’t fire of an email, but make an appointment for coffee. Sit down together, listen and share your perspective. Have that conversation trusting your relationship with your pastor will grow stronger from this exchange of ideas. Demonstrate the kind of grace, compassion and commitment that our culture no longer values. The church is called to be an alternative community, and in today’s fractured and fragmented times, I can think of no greater alternative than faithful people who can disagree in love while remaining in relationship with each other. Grace and Peace, Chase Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence? --Psalm 139:7 NRSV Each Sunday in worship at Park Hill Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, after the musicians Rajean, Benny, Jim and Ron have led us in praise music, I step to the pulpit and say pretty much the same thing. I say something along the lines of "Even though we are separated because of the pandemic, we remain one church, because the Holy Spirit binds us together." I look at the fifteen to twenty socially distanced and mask-wearing people scattered around the sanctuary and glance at the cameras streaming the service online and I try to imagine all of the different church folks watching from their dens, living rooms, decks and who knows where else on laptops, TV's phones and tablets. In my mind, I imagine all of us connected by an invisible web of the spirit connecting us together as a faith community. I've repeatedly said that my current ministry gig, interim minister at PHCC, is the weirdest one I've ever had. Because of COVID-19, I still haven't met most church members face to face, so I imagine what you look like, where you are and what you are doing. Don't worry, in my mind you are all good-looking and very attractive people! Even though our connection takes an act of imagination on my part, I really believe we are connected by the Spirit. I really do. Episcopal priest, Rev. Crystal Hardin writes, "While fear wants us to believe we are alone, faith knows differently." There's so much to be afraid of right now, and there are political entities, media empires and self-aggrandizing pundits doing all they can to spread fear this election season. We can choose to believe only what seems real, namely that each of us is alone, isolated at home and separated from one another, or we can be reminded of our faith which says otherwise. We are never alone. God is always with us. The wonderful spiritual writer and nun, Joan Chitister tells this story. Once upon a time, the story goes, a preacher ran through the streets of the city shouting, 'We must put God into our lives. We must put God into our lives.' And hearing him, the old monastic rose up in the city plaza to say, 'No, sir, you are wrong. You see, God is already in our lives. Our task is simply to recognize that.' It's the same truth the Psalmist sings about: there is nowhere we can go where God is not present with us. Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. Because God is always with us, we are always with God whether we realize it or not. Because we are with God and God is with us, through God we are connected with one another. The Apostle Paul wrote about the Christian community as the "Body of Christ", but he went further in his letter to the Colossians describing Christ connecting everything and everyone. [Christ] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers-all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. Through the Holy Spirit we really are connected together no matter the circumstances that keep us socially distanced or divided due to politics. It's this kind of interconnectedness that the mystic writer and trappiest monk Thomas Merton tried to describe in his classic work, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander: In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness... This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud... For many years, maybe most of my life, I had no idea what Merton was talking about. I was so invested in my own individualism I couldn't imagine feeling this kind of connection with anyone but my closest relationships. Yet, his words have been making more and more sense to me in recent years. Maybe it's because the forces at work in our culture seeking to divide us one from another seem more vicious than I've ever known that I feel the Holy Spirit drawing my attention to our connectedness with one another rather than believing the voices of fear and rancor. Maybe it's because COVID-19 has caused us to be separate from one another in a physical sense-even a handshake or a hug has become potentially life-threatening-that I am all the more aware of how much the human touch and the physical presence of others matter. Whatever the reason, I find myself drawn to the truth more than ever before that our separateness from one another is an illusion and God seeks to expose that illusion for what it is. You are not alone. God is with you. So is a cloud of witnesses greater than we can imagine. We are all connected. Grace and peace, Rev. Chase Peeples There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to
do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. --1 john 4:18 NRSV Thank God for Marilynne Robinson. If you're unfamiliar with this author, google her right now then go find one of her works of fiction or non-fiction and begin reading. She's an antidote to our times in more ways than one. I came to know Robinson through her 2004 novel Gilead, which is narrated by an aging Congregational minister in mid-20th Century small town Iowa, specifically the fictional town of Gilead, inspired by the real town of Tabor, in southwest Iowa. You might think that the book would appeal to me since I am a minister, but I confess to being averse to clergy characters in fiction, TV and film. Few writers know much about clergy and fewer still get it right. In this case, Robinson gets it right, and apparently non-clergy loved the book too, because it won the Pulitzer prize. In Gilead and the three sequels (the fourth has just been released), small town life is depicted with beauty but also honesty. These books are not a nostalgia trip but an investigation of the difficulties that come when you disagree with the actions and/or beliefs of someone you love. Race, religion, gender and age all frustrate the neat and tidy convictions of its characters. The books are optimistic without being schmaltzy, because the mysteries of love bind these characters together despite the difficulties of remaining in relationship. If you are someone interested in the history of Kansas and Missouri, especially the bloody border war between abolitionists and slaveholders involving John Brown, the novel Gilead dwells on this history through its narrator. William Ames, a Congregationalist minister, shares his experiences with his grandfather who rode with John Brown on some of his raids into Missouri. In his musings, Ames ponders the relationship of faith to racism and violence, his thoughts have particular relevance for 2020 America. Robinson's fiction mirrors her own Christian faith. She is a part of the United Church of Christ denomination as a member of the Congregational United Church of Christ in Iowa City. The UCC was formed in 1957 as a merger of denominations including the Congregationalists of which some of the characters in her novel were a part. The UCC and the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ have close ties. (I hold standing as a minister in both denominations) and explored merging decades ago but couldn't pull it off. Among many ways the UCC and DOC work together is through a shared international ministry known as Global Ministries. No doubt the characters of Robinson's novels would have known members of pre-Disciples of Christ Christian churches near them in northwest Missouri and southwest Iowa. Why I like Robinson's novels and I feel like her writings (including her non-fiction collections of lectures) are an antidote for our time is that they are permeated with a belief in the decency of people in general and ordinary Americans in particular. In interviews and her collected essays, Robinson has been critical of strains in American Christianity that foment fear of the other and a type of exclusionary nationalism. Among her fans is President Barack Obama. In 2015, Obama sat down to interview Robinson and their remarkable dialogue was reprinted in The New York Review of Books (it is available for free on the NYRB web site). In their dialogue, Robinson shares the foundation of her beliefs: Well, I believe that people are images of God. There's no alternative that is theologically respectable to treating people in terms of that understanding. What can I say? It seems to me as if democracy is the logical, the inevitable consequence of this kind of religious humanism at its highest level. And it [applies] to everyone. It's the human image. It's not any loyalty or tradition or anything else; it's being human that enlists the respect, the love of God being implied in it. She goes on to say this about the most vocal and virulent strains of Christianity that promote intolerance and exclusion: Well, I don't know how seriously they do take their Christianity, because if you take something seriously, you're ready to encounter difficulty, run the risk, whatever. I mean, when people are turning in on themselves-and God knows, arming themselves and so on-against the imagined other, they're not taking their Christianity seriously. I don't know-I mean, this has happened over and over again in the history of Christianity, there's no question about that, or other religions, as we know. But Christianity is profoundly counterintuitive-"Love thy neighbor as thyself"-which I think properly understood means your neighbor is as worthy of love as you are, not that you're actually going to be capable of this sort of superhuman feat. But you're supposed to run against the grain. It's supposed to be difficult. It's supposed to be a challenge. Through Rev. William Ames, the narrator of Gilead, Robinson has some fantastic lines that illustrate her understanding of Christianity. Here are a few of my favorites: "Nothing true can be said about God from a posture of defense." "It seems to me people tend to forget that we are to love our enemies, not to satisfy some standard of righteousness but because God their Father loves them." "Love is holy because it is like grace--the worthiness of its object is never really what matters." "I experience religious dread whenever I find myself thinking that I know the limits of God's grace, since I am utterly certain it exceeds any imagination a human being might have of it. God does, after all, so love the world." In this time of fearmongering politics, we need the steady calm voice Marilynne Robinson offers through her characters. We need reminders that beneath the hateful and even racist words of those we disagree with, there stands a human being, beloved by God and no amount of disagreement we may have with them changes the bald fact that God made them in the Divine image and loves them more than we can comprehend. We need to be reminded that each of us is a recipient of God's grace and so are the people we so often demonize. As you read today's political news and cast your ballot this fall, remember the sacredness of each person around you whether they return your love and respect or not. Grace and Peace, Rev. Chase Peeples “10So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” --Isaiah 41:10 As we consider the gifts of the Spirit, it is important to remember that the Spirit of God often moves on us in many ways. We may be led to prayer or perhaps to teach or even leadership during certain times. But that is not the only time where we can practice these gifts. We all remember well the song “Where He Leads Me, I Will Follow”. And when we sing it, in our heart of hearts we really do mean it. However, do we always live it? Just a few weeks ago our Jewish brethren celebrated Yom Kippur. It is the holiest of holy days. It is the ending of the old year and the beginning of a new year. It is a time of fasting, abstention and reflection. A common custom on Yom Kippur is to read the story of Jonah. And when it comes to the gift of leadership, Jonah is a good story for us as Christians to look at as well. The lessons of the story are varied and important but for the moment we are going to focus on the call and what Jonah did. When God called Jonah to go to Nineveh and prophesy, Jonah ran away. So often when God calls us to leadership we too run away. Partly it is out of fear, doubt and maybe like Jonah, a bit of “why me” and why “them” (or that). God calls us often to do big things and leadership is one of those things, but sometimes He also calls us to do small things and leadership is one of those things as well. Like Jonah we may feel afraid. We may question whether we have what it takes to do the job, but we have a promise from God that He is with us, “so do not fear….” Leadership in the church is not only the responsibility of the minister or the Elders or the Deacons. Leadership sits with each one of us in the pew. Not every leadership position involves standing before the congregation and giving a sermon. Not every leadership job involves leading a Bible study or a class. In fact, most leadership jobs in the church are really rather “small”. They include things like decorating the Sanctuary. Calling on members that have missed a week or two. They include things like greeting visitors and encouraging one another. When we think of leadership, we too often think of Moses and the burning bush. But God doesn’t always ask us to be the “savior” of the nation. He sometimes asks us to lead in small ways. Like Moses we too often answer God, “Who am I that I should go….” But God always answers back, “I will be with you.” It doesn’t matter how large or small the task. God is always with us. And even in the moments between the Spirit leading us into big adventure, we are called to be leaders. There are so many little task that a congregation needs someone to step up and say “I will do that”, not because they are elected to office or because it is their duty as an appointed leader, but because we all want to serve God. And talent, skills and abilities are never what brings success. What brings success is doing the little things for God’s glory. Look around, even in this pandemic time, there are little task that need leaders to complete them. Each one of us is a leader and each one of us has been called by God. It is why we are here. It is how we worship the God who sent His son to us. He has proven that He is with us. Jesus stands ready to work beside us, through us. Now is the moment to become leaders who relish our time with our God. Now each of us takes up our cross and follow Jesus, by leading in word and deed. Kathy Hendrix |
AuthorWe're Park Hill Christian Church in KC MO. We seek to follow Jesus by praising God, loving those we meet and serving the vulnerable. Archives
June 2021
Categories |