The shepherd of souls

One day in 1988, as I turned around with my tray, a group of women at McDonald's invited me over to join them. We knew each other. They were all semi-homeless, working girls, who sold themselves to pay for an occasional room, and more often another drink or another hit of their drug of choice.

We knew each other because I worked at at St. Francis Center, in Denver, a homeless center, and we had met many times.

But now we were out of our roles. I wasn't the "shelter worker" and they weren't the "clients". We were simply people who knew one another, and actually cared about one another.

For the next 30 minutes they told stories, and laughed, and they occasionally tried to embarrass me, and enjoyed watching me blush when they got really risque. And then, as we were finishing our meals one of them touched my arm and said,  "Don't go. We didn't pray before we all ate, and I want you to pray now."

And so we sat in McDonald's on East Colfax, holding hands in a circle around the table and prayed, ending with the Lord's prayer together. Then we got up hugged each other, and went our separate ways.

God loves those who are desperately lost and caught in desperation. May he move us to love them too.

Airport Idolatry

Reggie McNeal has a wonderful line. He says there are no coffee table books, "Great Airports of Europe" or "Beautiful Airports of the World".  And then he compares churches to airports. And he challenges us to see ourselves not as the destination, but as a transit hub. The goal of what we do is not to get people to church, but to help them connect with God in this life, in ways that will make them love God passionately in the next.

Even the great Cathedrals of the world were only made beautiful to teach lessons about God. In many cases they were the work of centuries of labor, and those building them knew that they were simply a place to help the passengers arrive safely at an even more majestic destination.

I’m getting all kinds of email about how to get people to come back to church after Easter. But I am not getting lots of emails about how to get the church to go out into the world after people after Easter.

We must decide, are we primarily a destination or a hub?

But there is another question that cannot be addressed by the answer to that question. Churches are built of bodies, not bricks. We are believers, not buildings. We are a community of people traveling together, trusting that we are on an inter-dimensional journey with a foot in two worlds.

“Thy kingdom come, on earth as in heaven” we pray, and then are surprised when it sometimes happens.

Because sometimes God visits the airport, to assure the passengers they’re flying to the right destination.  May God pay you a visit today.

Man of la Mancha

I spent most my teenage years in Guatemala City, Guatemala. It is a beautiful city and a beautiful country. Nevertheless, it was in the midst of serious political problems and regular acts of terrorism, car bombings, random machine gunning of people in public places, and the like were common and sometimes daily occurrences. So perhaps I am more attune to violent, dangerous situations than some people. 

Shortly after we were married, Anne and I went to see the musical,  “Man of la Mancha”. If you know the play, you know that it takes place in a jail, where the main character has been imprisoned by the Spanish Inquisition.

The lights dimmed in the theater, suddenly, there was a blast of submachine gun fire, and a group of about 10 men burst into center aisle near where we were seated. One grabbed a man out of his seat and putting a weapon to his head twisted his arm roughly behind his back and the rest then menacingly covered the audience with their weapons.

Even before the gun had been fired, I had seen the movement and the weapon out of the corner of my eye and pulled Anne’s head down.

Of course she understood what I didn’t. This was part of the play. Memories from life in Guatemala had kicked in, and it took me about 30 seconds longer to grasp the concept while Anne wondered if she had married a crazy man. (Now she no longer wonders!)

At that point, my adrenaline was pumping very effectively and I remained alert through the entire performance.

The next day was Passion Sunday, and I couldn’t help but compare the theater experience to Jesus arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane.

From that day forward every time we go through the Palm Sunday service, I have a mental image of armed men bursting into church and grabbing Jesus, and roughly hitting him and yanking him to his feet, hauling him away while the disciples suddenly awakened fight and flee.

My prayer is that we never separate ourselves from the passion of the passion. Let us never lose sight of the love demonstrated even to enemies. 

Peace.

Water

It is so dry here in Laredo and most of the rest of Texas this year. Last year we had rain almost every month until September. And then it was as if the faucet turned off.

Tumbleweeds, dry arroyos, dust, barren rock formations, yucca, prickly pear, and scrub vegetation.  I am from Colorado. And spend early childhood in New Mexico. Much of Colorado and New Mexico looks pretty dry much of the year.

Perhaps that is why I am not shocked by the same terrain and vegetation in South Texas. It is familiar looking. The only thing missing is the mountains. And the only thing added is intense heat!

This year, the Jewish Passover and Holy Week for both Western and Eastern Christians are all very close together. Passover starts on the 18th, and Easter for both sets of Christians is on the 24th.

Perhaps because this year is so dry, I have been thinking a lot about water and how it fits into Holy Week. On Thursday the 21st many Christians wash feet to remember that Jesus did the same.

And Friday, we read from St. John's Gospel where he deliberately mentions the following: Jesus thirst and the response to it.

Why would Jesus humble himself and act like a slave? Is there someone or somewhere I am called to serve?

What was Jesus thirsting for? Just water or something even greater? What do I thirst for?

Dry Bones

This past Thursday, I arrived early to Waco, Texas for a continuing education event. I called Suzanna, my daughter and suggested we visit the Waco Mammoth Site which is an active archeological dig where the largest collection of Columbian Mammoths have been found. The bones date from two primary eras: 68,000 years ago, and about 15,000 years ago. Baylor University faculty and students have been directing the dig since 1978. And the bones are actually bones, not fossilized, but preserved because of the high clay content of the soil.

Walking through the small site, looking at the enormous bones, I couldn't help but think about the passage from Ezekiel 37, where he sees a vision of a valley full of dry bones. 

God speaks to him and says “Son of man, can these bones live?” I said, “Sovereign LORD, you alone know.”

Ultimately the bones in stages receive flesh and sinews, then skin, and finally the breath of life. As Suzanna and walked around we saw the artists representation of a live Columbian Mammoth and it would have been an impressive animal.

This Lent has been "dry" feeling to me. There are things that feel lifeless and dead. And yet, underlying the dry feeling is a sense of anticipation.

When I asked myself where that sense of anticipation comes from I realized it is from a long experience in my life of God's provision, and abundant life. There are times when it comes as a flood, and it seems that that sense of God's power and presence will last forever.  But it is not meant to last in this life. The wisdom of the scriptures and of the Church through the ages is dryness and wilderness,   rains and fertile fields are gifts of God in their due season.
 
So while things are dry right now, I know life is coming.

Mary

In John 11 and Luke 10 we run into Martha and Mary.

Mary seems to be the spiritual one. In Luke's gospel we know she sits with the disciples and scandalizes her sister.

And in John 11, we discover that she is the one who poured perfume on Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair. (This may be the story that shows up in Mark 14, Matthew 26, and Luke 7) Since none of them mention the woman's name we cannot be sure that what John is talking about is the same story, but it does seem likely.

Mary seems to see something in Jesus that calls out to her deeply. She seems to feel deeply. She perfumes him and washes his feet with her hair.

But here in her grief she speaks one line, her only line in the gospel and it is the same thing her sister had said moments before:  "Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died."

Now Mary who thought she "got" Jesus has to learn a very difficult lesson in faith, just like her sister Martha.

Both these women who seem to both love Jesus, but be very different in their approach to him, are about to learn about faith in a new and powerful way. 

When evil and death come to us and those we love, we can be tempted to believe that somehow Jesus was not with us, was not "on the job." 

Even the mourners whisper, "This is the guy who healed that blind man. Why couldn't he have healed Lazarus?"

Why is the impossible question. But who Jesus is, he will make very clear.

Martha

In John 11 and Luke 10 we run into Martha and Mary.

Martha takes the verbal lead in both stories. And in both stories, she takes on Jesus both times. 

In the Luke passage she is scandalized that Jesus lets her sister sit as a disciple and learn from the master. Women as disciples! Scandalous!  She tries to be tactful and suggests that Jesus send her sister away to help her do the cooking and cleaning. He is tactful back and says no, that Mary, and by implication Martha can become a disciple.

In the next encounter, the sisters have sent for Jesus to come and heal their brother. Jesus comes too late to do any good. And this time Martha is more direct.  "Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died."

What I love about Martha is that she doesn't have any trouble giving Jesus a piece of her mind.  She has a real relationship with him. Not very pious, not very respectful, but very real.

Jesus chooses one of the most difficult times in her life to push her to a new level of understanding and faith in him.

She has to choose: trust or not trust. She trusts, but keeps her voice and personality. A few moments later she tells Jesus to not have the grave opened.

Jesus told her she should trust, she claims she will, and few moments later she begins to waver.

I love Martha. She believes, but struggles with her beliefs. She trusts, but struggles to trust. And she sees the power and glory of God.