Pastoral Theology: The Poetry of Life

For Ordinary Time I have been reading At the Still Point by Sarah Arthur. It is a wonderful look at the quiet movements of God through literature. I found this to be an interesting angle but nonetheless an appropriate approach for devotionals during Ordinary Time. Last Friday morning, while waiting on my daughter Lydia to be born, I was reading through her work and had the pleasure of enjoying Robert Siegel's Poem, "A Song of Praises."

This poem, is a wonderful illustration of discovering the beauty of God in the every day things of this world. In captivating language he describes the morning routine so many of us go through at the start of every day. Here is the poem in its entirety as found online at The High Calling:

for the gray nudge of dawn at the window
for the chill that hangs around the bed and slips
     its cold tongue under the covers
for the cat that walks over my face purring murderously
for the warmth of the hip next to mine and sweet lethargy
for the cranking up of the will until it turns me out of bed
for the robe's caress along arm and neck
for the welcome of hot water, the dissolving of
     the night's stiff mask in the warm washcloth
for the light along the while porcelain sink
for the toothbrush's savory invasion of the tomb of the mouth
     and resurrection of the breath
for the warm lather and the clean scrape of the razor
     and the skin smooth and pink that emerges
for the steam of the shower, the apprehensive shiver and then
     its warm enfolding of the shoulders
     its falling on the head like grace
     its anointing of the whole body
     and the soap's smooth absolution
for the rough nap of the towel and its message to each skin cell
for the hairbrush's pulling and pulling,
     waking the root of each hair
for the reassuring snap of elastic
for the hug of the belt that pulls all together
for the smell of coffee rising up the stairs announcing paradise
for the glass of golden juice in which light is condensed
     and the grapefruit's sweet flesh
for the eggs like two peaks over which the sun rises
     and the jam for which the strawberries of summer have
     saved themselves
for the light whose long shaft lifts the kitchen
     into the realms of day
for Mozart elegantly measuring out the gazebos
     of heaven on the radio
and for her face, for whom the kettle sings, the coffee percs,
     and all the yellow birds in the wallpaper spread their wings.

I have read this poem now maybe a dozen times. Each time a different aspect of the morning routine jumps off the page and grabs my attention, holding it for a prolonged moment before leading me back into the next line. Several thoughts have emerged out of this poem that I think are useful for believers and non-believers alike.

The first is the joy of the present moment.  Last night, around 2.30am in an attempt to stay awake while I rocked my newborn daughter back to sleep I began to wonder how Robert Siegel would describe the darkened nursery? As my bleary eyes scanned the walls and furniture, as my hands sought to absorb the texture of the comfortable rocking chair and her soft newborn skin, and as my senses strained to truly draw in the warmth from the tiny ball nestled on my chest and my eyes worked hard to transform the small sliver of light coming in through the slightly opened door into something more useful I realized that I am quite terrible at being in the present moment. I am willing to hazard a guess that is true for so many of us. We focus on the past, either for the better or the worse, or we cast our thoughts forward to the future. While the present moment fails to gain our focused attention.

If we are to truly look at the birds of the air or consider the lillies of the field then we need to let go of what is needlessly occupying our mind and attention. Jesus urges us in the Sermon on the Mount to not worry about tomorrow but instead turn our attention to the present moment. In doing so, we recognize the magnificent provision of God and are able to face the future without anxiety about what may come and our priorities become properly focused on the Kingdom. But first, we must look at the birds of the air; the "Pentecost of finches" as Siegel describes in another poem.

Siegel's poem also reminded me of the power of the mundane. Many would be willing to testify that the morning routine is odious. Rare is the person who joyfully proclaims that they are a morning person, even rarer is the person who enjoys waking up in the morning. Yet if our senses had a tune-up and we were able to see the morning the way Siegel sees it, wouldn't we agree that it is a cause for praise? I can't remember the last time as I brushed my teeth that I was reminded of how every time I take part in such an action I am experiencing a "resurrection of the breath." Or how in the act of shaving, my skin takes on a newborn appearance. A hot shower in the morning has never caused me to consider the grace of God, my only source of complete absolution. I am incredibly skinny; belts are a reality of my every day existence. Just as my belt holds everything together, so too do God's hands hold the universe together. And on and on. God is present in the mundane events of our lives. As Jacob exclaimed after awaking from a strong dream one night, "Truly God is in this place and I did not know it! (Genesis 28.16)" And just like that, a nameless place takes on a name full of significance: the mundane becomes the house of God.

Ordinary Time is just that: ordinary time. It is the time on the church calendar in between the big events of Pentecost and Advent. It is the time when the Creasters are not found in church at all. It is the time when the rest of us, most likely, are thinking about summer vacations, days at the pool, fireworks, ice cream, corn on the cob and night excursions filled with the intent to capture lightning bugs alive. It is the time when the magnificence of creation is on display and so we are without excuse in recognizing the Artist behind the painting. Yet, we overlook the presence of God.

In his Reflection on the Psalms C.S. Lewis wrote, "Poetry too is a little incarnation, giving body to what had been before invisible and inaudible." That is where the power of a poem like Siegels can be found: it gives body and form to what had been invisible. It can remind us to keep our eyes open and to not take anything for granted. Everything is a gift, even that gray nudge of dawn first thing in the morning. Therein lies our role as followers of Christ--to look for the poems present in our life and in the lives of those around us. To give form to the randomness of their day; to point out the pattern of the Spirit whether it as easily discernible as a Petrarchan Sonnet, or as hard to pin down as free verse. And in doing so, to realize that for everyone God is present in ordinary. That the ordinary is extraordinary when seen in the right light.

The New Roman Roads

In the June issue of Christianity Today, there is an article on the new innovative strategies being taken to share the gospel by current leaders in the church. The article, The Social Network Gospel, makes some interesting points but this point especially struck me as being right on target. The author wrote, "The ancient Roman roads spanned more than 250,000 miles. The Romans started building these continent-connecting arteries in 500 B.C., enabling both their empire to grow and the gospel to advance rapidly.
Today's Roman roads are the Internet, the smartphone, the tablet, and social media, ready and waiting for innumerable journeys of faith and witness. While the ancient roads connected hundreds of towns and cities, the new ones connect millions of homes and individuals."

This passage stood out to me because last fall we had one of our missionaries come and speak at the church. He told us how the internet was the new roman road and the way to spread the gospel throughout the world. We have a duty to spread the gospel, indeed are commanded to do so in John 20.19-23. Of course we must do so in person, but we must also utilize these new Roman roads. So it is with great pleasure I announce that the church now has an active website. Two people worked very hard behind the scenes to make this possible, they know who they are, and I thank them.
Please share it with others in the hopes that many will be saved.

 http://www.millcreekworship.org/

For my boast is this...

                Being busy and accomplishing much have always been some of my idols. To be sure, I have many more, but those are two idols I wrestle with on a continual basis.  I used to think that being busy made me “special” some how, better than the other people around me. As I grew older I matured and realized that nearly everyone I met was busy in their own way and I was no different from the rest. Since moving to Pennsylvania, I have come to see that indeed, being busy is very much part of the culture out here. So in that respect, I fit in well. 

            As I have grown in my faith I have begun to see how being busy can be a hindrance to our walk with God. Our time for devotion and prayer, our time to see the Lord and enjoy the light of his countenance, can become marginalized as we seek to accomplish everything on our “To-Do” list first.  Into the midst of these revelations two passages from Scripture have stood out lately, urging me to slow down and appreciate a simpler life. 

            In his letter to the Jews in Diaspora, James writes, “For the sun rises with scorching heat and withers the plant; its blossom falls and its beauty is destroyed. In the same way, the rich will fade away even while they go about their business” (James 1.1, NIV). Some flowers were recently planted along the backside of the Manse. I tried my very best to water them but for whatever reason, they succumbed to the heat, withered and died. Now their lifeless stems and crinkled leaves lay folded over the earth, a visual witness to the truth of these words. If we put our very lives into what we can accomplish in this world, if we over elevate the accomplishments of our job or tasks around the house—or even in the church—over God, we should not be surprised when we find ourselves suddenly unable to stand on our own and withering away.

            Against a busy life and the rigors of a dog-eat-dog world Paul told the believers in Corinth that, “For our boast is this, the testimony of our conscience, that we behaved in the world with simplicity and godly sincerity, not by earthly wisdom but by the grace of God, and supremely so toward you” (2^nd Corinthians 1.12, ESV).  An interesting boast: behaving with simplicity. Today we boast in that which makes our lives even more complicated: our degrees, our accomplishments, even our latest technological gadget, things that prevent us from slowing down and appreciating God’s creation. Yet Paul boasted in simplicity. 

            We are currently living in the pleasant transition of Spring to Summer. The earth seems to have come alive over night: I’ve been overwhelmed this week by the abundance of green and hints of purple, white, yellow and red, everywhere I go. How can we be aware of the provision God has for us if we never slow down to consider the lilies? Take some time and intentionally slow down over the coming weeks. Eliminate some unnecessary things from your agenda. Have a genuine conversation with someone face to face without glancing at your cell phone. Enjoy the beauty of God’s creation that you might not wither in the busyness of this world but rather be governed by the grace of God.

Author Matthew Cook

As an amateur writer working on a non-fiction book and harboring hopes of one day writing a novel I always appreciate the dedication and skill it takes to finish a story.

Getting it published is something else altogether.

A friend from grad school's husband (say that three times fast) is an aspiring author. I've read one short story by him and he just got another one published in a magazine. The excerpt is excellent and makes me want to purchase the magazine so I can see how the story is resolved.

Of course, here at Chasidic Calvinist, I especially appreciate the author's understanding that religion does matter because it shapes  how we see and interact with the world. And a neo-Anabaptist in space? Priceless.

Click the link, read the interview, read the excerpt, buy the magazine and enjoy.

Pastoral Theology IV: On the Mount

As a New Years resolution I decided to read the Sermon on the Mount every week for a year. I was captivated by an image of what my life might look like if my way of thinking and living was shaped by this body of teaching.

The fruition of that image still eludes me.

But today while reading through Friday's portion of the sermon, a passage stuck out that is very germane to a question I have been wrestling with for a few weeks. Namely, "how can I discern what ministry God is calling me to do here at this church as opposed to doing what is good and sounds good but really isn't God's will?"

A hefty question.

The passage is Matthew 7.21-23. This is the second to last thing Jesus has to say when he is delivering his sermon on the mount. After all of the new standards, after the Law has been reinterpreted and the bar raised; after the disciples are encouraged to be authentic in their faith and do so many different things in this world Jesus adds, "Oh yeah, don't count on this being what gets you into heaven."

The passage jumped out at me this morning because I have really been wrestling with that question as of late. There are many things that churches and ministers can get caught up doing that sound like a good idea and may even have a positive impact on the community but are they actually in line with the will of God?

I easily imagine that the those who were delivered from the bondage of demons felt that what the disciples did was a good thing; so too, I imagine that those who received healing (i.e. mighty works) praised God. All good things. To which Christ responds, "I never knew you."

I'm not overly worried by his declaration, at least not at this juncture in my life, but I am worried about their statement. "We did these things in your name" they claim. They actually claim the refuge of his name three times. The church, ostensibly, does its work in his name. But are we doing his work? The more I wrestle with this question...the more I feel like I'm just going in a circle. It is a bit of a sick-cycle carousel only not as enjoyable.

Specifically for pastors--how do we handle this work of discernment? I'm really looking for feedback on this one. How can we tell if what we are about is the will of God or really our will sugar coated in "good work"?

Pastoral Theology III: House Cleaning

I apologize for the absence of posting but I don't want to post for the sake of posting.


I attended a funeral today. I arrived shortly before it was about to start and took my seat quietly in the back. The funeral director introduced the pastor to officiate and an wizened man with white hair stepped forward. He read off a plethora of Scripture and then took his seat. A family member stood and read a eulogy and then the pastor stood back up. Then he preached a sermon that I want to never forget.

In my very short time as pastor I have done quite a few funerals. Too many. The unfortunate part about being a pastor is I am learning on the go and I am learning through the triumphs and failures that take place in the lives of others from the decisions I make. It is a heavy burden at times. But this pastor stood there and told all of us it was a heavy burden all of the time because the pastor has a very important job: he has to make sure our houses are in order before we die.

He preached on Isaiah 38.1-2. Then he launched into his sermon by stating quite boldly, that we were all going to die and it was his duty to warn us to put our houses in order before we died. He told us to all imagine that we owned an 8 room house, 4 rooms upstairs and 4 rooms downstairs. The upstairs rooms each related to an aspect of our relationship with God and the 4 rooms downstairs each related to an aspect of our relationship with one another here on earth. What condition were these rooms? He repeatedly asked if we died after leaving this funeral would we go to heaven? At one point he even said that our blood was on his hands, a clear allusion to Ezekiel 3.18.

Afterwards, I went up to him and said, "That was a powerful sermon." Then I told him how I was just starting out in ministry and I appreciated the wisdom that he brought into the topic. He shrugged and then said, "You know, that isn't how I normally do funerals. I'm doing one later today that will be completely different. But I felt a strong pull today..." He shook his head. "You know, there are people who come to funerals who will never hear that message again."

Pastoral Theology Insight #3: Unless Christ returns soon (which he might!) everyone is going to die. Every day, with every passing minute, people move closer to death. They may die of old age, of disease, or from a tragic accident but everyone will die. How are we preparing our flock for death? Do our funeral sermons reflect our theology? Do we offer sentimental platitudes from the pulpit during a funeral and preach something different on Sunday or is the message consistent?

Our job is the same as it was for Isaiah. We must not mince our words when it comes to living and dying. We need to make sure people understand their house must be in order at all times because he is coming like a thief in the night! We have a duty, a responsibility, to remind people that they should live like they are dying because they are. But we also have a duty to remind people that to "live without regrets" is a recipe for disaster when all is said and done. We must point them to Christ. To encourage them to spend some time thinking about the one thing that matters and not all of the other stuff that fills our mind that we can't even take with us. We must point them to the only one who can truly clean their house of all the filth they have done, the only one who satisfies in life and in death.

What the Pharisee Heard

This is my sermon from my first Palm Sunday.

Focus text is Luke 19.28-48

Simon bent down and selected a brown stone from the ground. Rising, he placed it to his ear and strained, trying to hear something.

“Simon! What do you think you are doing?” Abner asked him frowning.

Simon lowered the rock from his ear, but he didn’t drop it before responding “I was testing him Abner. Or rather, I was testing his words. You were there, you heard as well as I did what he claimed would happen. I do not hear the sound of anyone praising him now, so I thought I would see if the stones are crying out.”

Abner quietly regarded Simon before asking, “So tell me Simon, what did you hear?”

“Nothing.”

The two stood in silence for some time. They were both lost in thought over the dramatic events of the morning. The large crowds, Jesus on the donkey, the shouts of “Hosanna” were a recent memory. Now, the road was nearly empty as the heat of the day was over powering. Everyone with any common sense had run for shade. But Simon had ventured out, despite the weight of his robes to find a stone and gather his thoughts.

“You know” Simon began after some time, “He may be the one. The Messiah, the King we have been longing for who will deliver us from the Romans.”

Despite the solitude, Abner quickly looked around to make sure no one had heard. “Simon you are acting like a fool! Such talk! Beside, the Messiah would support the religious objectives of our brethren Pharisees. He would not ridicule our customs. He would not mock the length of our phylactery as this one has. He consorts with sinners. His disciples do not obey the Sabbath…”

“But he has the power to heal! He has done miraculous healing and some of those whom he healed followed the Law of Moses and came and presented themselves at the Temple for the healing to be verified by a priest! And anyone with half a brain can tell that his choice of twelve disciples is a deliberate acknowledgement that he is in favor of the kingdom of Israel!” Simon responded.

“Come Simon, we must not speak of such things here in the open. Let us find some shade” Abner said as he walked away.

Shortly they came upon a quiet grove of olive trees with a splendid view of the Kidron Valley. The cool shade from the trees was a welcome relief from the intense heat. Abner lowered himself and leaned back against one of the gnarled trunks. “Simon you are letting your emotions getting the best of you in this matter.”

Simon held his tongue for a moment before responding. “No Abner, I’m not. You and I know that we Pharisees exist because we desire more than anything to restore the kingdom to Israel. We separate ourselves from this polluted culture, we adhere to the Torah, we take on disciples and train them in the way of life, we have nothing to do with the gentiles and hold no regard for Rome, unlike our brothers the Sadducees” at their name he spat in the dust. “We do all of this out of the hope that by restoring the true identity to Israel we can bring God’s blessing down upon his people again. You know as well as I do, Abner, that we are supposed to be watching for the Messiah and the Messiah is supposed to make use of us! You remember the Baptizer, John? The one who baptized all of those people in the Jordan River?”

“You mean the one who was beheaded?” Abner asked.

“Yes of course. We sent a delegation to him to see if he was the one promised in Scripture because we are supposed to be on the look out for the Messiah.”

Abner grunted at this and then said, “What does any of this have to do with you putting a rock to your ear?”

“I was testing his words! Maybe he is the Messiah after all. Maybe we have been looking in the wrong place all this time!”

“But Simon, he is from Nazareth. You know the saying, ‘Nothing good can come from Nazareth!’”

“He has supporters among us—more so than any other pretender before him.”

Abner sat in silence. Of course he had heard the rumors of the various circles of Pharisees who did actually support this Jesus of Nazareth. No one ever claimed to do so publically and the rumors were just that, rumors...curiosity got the best of him: “Who?” He finally asked at length.

“Nicodemus met with him.”

“Nicodemus! Do not say such things!”

“But it is true” Simon insisted. “Nicodemus met with him one night to see if he would be the one to restore the kingdom to Israel but Nicodemus said he began speaking gibberish about only those who are born again can enter into the kingdom of God.”

“Born again?” Abner asked incredulously. “How can a man be born again when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?”

“Nicodemus said much the same thing. The confusion aside, Nicodemus seems to regard him with some respect. And then there is a member of the Sanhedrin, Joseph of Arimathea.”

Abner snorted. “Joseph has more money than he knows what to do with. It is an impediment to his devotion to God.”

“Then the two of you have something in common! I heard it said that this Jesus told a rich man, ‘It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God!’”

“Listen to me Simon! He is not the Messiah! He cannot be the Messiah. Despite the demonstration today, with the crowd calling out Hosanna and waving their palm branches and his overly coordinated entry on a donkey—these things do not automatically make him the Messiah! Do you not understand! God would not send a Messiah who would criticize us, the Pharisees! We have been the faithful adherents to the Law of Moses since we were allowed to return from Babylon! We have follow the commandments of God and teach others to do likewise, both in word and deed.” Abner paused and adjusted his tallit as it had become disturbed in his sudden out burst. “He doesn’t even respect the Sabbath, Simon, the Sabbath! It is one of the Ten Commandments!”

Simon was at a loss. What Abner said made sense. Simon had been attracted to the Pharisees because he had a zeal for the Lord and saw in this body of believers that zeal reflected in an every day lifestyle dedicated to preserving the holiness of God. With all of his being he yearned to see God restore the kingdom to Israel and reject the Roman occupation force. But he felt this was a work which God would do through his Messiah. The Messiah would be a High Priest and King, he would work with the existing Temple and along side the Sanhedrin. Or though it had always been believed.

Yet so many in the Sanhedrin despised this Jesus of Nazareth. He had not endeared himself to them; he certainly was not like the Roman senators—always saying the right things to the right people—he expressed himself honestly. Too honestly. Simon could respect that but wished he would not so openly rebuke so many of the sacred traditions of the Pharisees.

And then this morning, during his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, to say the things he said. To publically rebuke the Pharisees and then weep over Jerusalem and predict doom and destruction! He should have been predicting glory for God’s holy city Jerusalem and doom and destruction instead for Rome! Yet the people seemed to love him. In this carpenter from Nazareth they saw something that evoked passion within the multitudes. They followed him everywhere. Simon had even heard a story of people tearing away a roof to lower a sick friend down into a room where they thought Jesus was staying. If that story was not incredible enough, it was said he then healed this man based on the faith of his friends.

Suddenly, a group of four Pharisees ran into the olive grove. The one in the lead spoke first, “Simon and Abner—we have been looking everywhere for you! The chief priests and scribes have called a meeting! It will soon be starting you must come quickly!”

“What is this all about?” Abner asked.

“Have you not heard? It is about this Jesus from Nazareth! After his entry this morning he went straight into the Temple and then he attacked it!”

“He what?”

“He attacked the Temple! He made a whip out of chords and drove the money changers out, overturned their tables and had the audacity to pour the coins out upon the floor! Then he had the audacity to claim that he could rebuild the Temple in three days time! He mocks our customs, he flaunts our authority and disrespects the sacred space of our house of worship!”

“He must be stopped” Abner declared!

“That is why the chief priests have called this meeting. This foolish so-called prophet’s time is nearing its end. Come brothers, the meeting will be starting shortly.”

The Pharisees turned and left the grove with Abner following them. Simon looked down, surprised to see he still held the stone from the road. He lifted it to his ear but heard nothing and dropped it, angrily, into the dirt and followed them.

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As it is recorded in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus confronted the way the Pharisees adhere to the tradition of their elders and disregard the Word of God by saying, “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.”

All of this—all of this is a tradition of the elders: our order of worship, our pews, our stain glass windows, our choir, all traditions that we have grown accustomed to. Even Palm Sunday is a tradition of our elders. There is no biblical commandment that says “On the Sunday prior to Easter the congregation of the Lord shall gather together, wave palms and remember Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem.”

Today I want to leave everyone with a question: if Christ were to walk into this church, enter our sanctuary what is it that is untouchable? What long established tradition can Jesus not touch? If Jesus were to walk in here and start overturning established traditions like he overturned those tables would we too switch from shouting out “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord” and instead cry out, “Crucify him”?