By John Birch —
A story by Keren Dibbens-Wyatt —
Saint Francis lasted longer than I did at the Conference for Christian Leaders “Using Your Influence”. He sat through several speakers and nodded politely here and there whilst fiddling with the knots on his long string belt that symbolised his sacred vows. Mostly he kept his eyes shut and just peeked out at the thousands of people seated round him occasionally and then wisely shut them again. Sometimes it is just better to gaze at the inside of your own eyelids. The lights were bright and hot, and the air felt strange in the huge auditorium, full of a pumped up testosteronic excitement that had pulses and egos racing.
After a while though, he did what I did and wandered out to the corridors where the drinks and vending machines were, and ran the water fountain, cupping his bleeding hands in the stream with clear delight, and lifting the coolness to his tired face. He drank long of the sweetness, and sploshed his face. I had done the same, and then tried to steel myself to go back in, but I just couldn’t do it.
“Hello,” I said and he smiled, a little warily, in case I was one of them. I even think he looked round for the exits, just in case, and I can’t say I blame him. I didn’t know what to say, really. But words have a habit of forming anyway, and there was certainly a torrent of loud ones being amplified behind us in the main room. “Isn’t it awful?” was what I came up with. He smiled wider then. Did he even speak English? My Italian was not up to much. Poco barely covered it.
For the purposes of my dream or my story, whatever you want to call it, he did understand me. “I don’t know what they are talking about,” he shrugged. “I don’t know what is this productivity, in a church, in God’s house? What is that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I suspected it meant bums on seats, but I wasn’t going to sully this conversation with that thought. “More followers?” I hazarded.
“For them or for Christ?” he asked, bluntly. I loved him even more right then. I laughed.
“Who is counting?”
“Not God!” We both smiled.
“I will leave now. I don’t know why they asked me,” he said, looking small and fragile in the clinical surroundings and artificial light.
“Are you not a speaker?” He shook his head.
“What could I say to this,” he shrugged his shoulders and flung his arms out in a typically latinate gesture, encompassing the whole conference, “to whatever this is? This is no place for God’s fools. We do not belong. We are bleeding and small and unworthy.”
“I know. They asked you for kudos, to make it look like you approved.” That smile again. I knew he could not know what I meant, but he understood the longing in my heart.
“We will leave now. Will you join us?”
“Most gladly.” I did not care where he was going. But, “We?” I asked. He frowned a little, and lowered his voice, though no-one was listening.
“Have you seen a small, odd friar with a far too joyful face anywhere?” I wanted to say, “You mean apart from the one standing in front of me now?” and then realised I could, and did. He laughed. “Si, si, another one!” Behind him I saw a pair of burly security guards carrying out another raggedy Franciscan friar, his brown tunic hanging loosely on his gangly body, his eyes rather wild but full of joy.
“This one belong to you?” the guards asked Francis roughly. The saint nodded, unruffled, but concerned for his brother. “We found him stealing things from the conference booths. He says he was going to give them to the poor. Didn’t even try to hide them. Is he dangerous?”
“Dangerous? Juniper?” Francis sighed, “Only to himself.”
“Will you vouch for him? I don’t think arresting a monk would look that great with the conference on and all. Especially if he’s with you.”
“We vouch for him,” I said, “And we’re leaving now in any case.” Francis nodded, and Juniper followed suit, nodding a little too much and too hard, as expected. They let go of him, seemed glad to deliver the problem to someone else, and he slumped down onto the shiny tiled floor. “We ought to make him empty his pockets first,” said one to the other.
“Man, he aint got no pockets, look at him!” said the other, and they sauntered back inside the foyer.
“Oh Juniper, what have I taught you about stealing?” said the great man, puddles of blood now pooling below him from his stigmata. Juniper looked shame faced for just one moment before shedding it in a heartbeat and an exclamation.
“But, my brother, they have so much! Always we have the poor with us. These people will not miss a thing.”
“I know, I know,” and with that we all ambled out of the building for good, the saint, the idiot and the failure, three holy fools arm in arm, knowing that there was no place like home, and that it was definitely not to be found in a place like this.
When we were safely three blocks away and standing waiting for the train, Brother Juniper giggled to himself and produced from within his stinking tunic a stack of books. Francis rolled his eyes as his fellow friar gave the books to a homeless veteran sitting on the platform.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with these?” she wisely asked. I explained she might sell them to those conference attendees passing through, and gave her a few dollars to use as change, or for whatever she needed. She shrugged, and set up a book stall on the ground. “These stolen?” she asked with a scowl.
“Taken,” said Juniper, “from the Lord’s followers. So they won’t mind.” I rolled my eyes, something Francis had long ceased bothering to do.
“They might mind,” I said, just to warn her.
“Good,” she said warmly. “If I get arrested I will be in the warm and dry. Looks like rain.” Francis, long-practiced, reached out an arm to stop Juniper lifting off his tunic to give to the woman.
“She has clothing, Juniper, and the sight of your scrawny hide is unlikely to give our sister any comfort.” Juniper acquiesced to his teacher, and the train came, and we got on, not knowing where we were headed, not having any fare, with no plan for how to grow the potential of our churches, just glad to be away from the cold harsh lights and the business mantras and the stench of success.
The Immigrant’s Creed
A profession of the Christian faith through the experience of an immigrant.
I believe in Almighty God,
who guided the people in exile and in exodus,
the God of Joseph in Egypt and Daniel in Babylon,
the God of foreigners and immigrants.
I believe in Jesus Christ,
a displaced Galilean,
who was born away from his people and his home,
who fled his country with his parents when his life was in danger,
and returning to his own country suffered the oppression
of the tyrant Pontius Pilate, the servant of a foreign power,
who then was persecuted, beaten, and finally tortured,
accused and condemned to death unjustly.
But on the third day, this scorned Jesus rose from the dead,
not as a foreigner but to offer us citizenship in heaven.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the eternal immigrant from God’s kingdom among us,
who speaks all languages, lives in all countries,
and reunites all races.
I believe that the church is the secure home
for the foreigner and for all believers who constitute it,
who speak the same language and have the same purpose.
I believe that the communion of the saints begins
when we accept the diversity of the saints.
I believe in the forgiveness of sin, which makes us all equal,
and in reconciliation, which identifies us more
than does race, language, or nationality.
I believe that in the resurrection
God will unite us as one people
in which all are distinct
and all are alike at the same time.
Beyond this world, I believe in life eternal
in which no one will be an immigrant
but all will be citizens of God’s kingdom,
which will never end. Amen.
“The Immigrants’ Creed” is excerpted from The Book of Common Worship: 2018 Edition. © 2018 Westminster John Knox Press. To purchase the book, please visit any of these websites:
Westminster John Knox Press
The Thoughtful Christian
PC(USA) Store
By Keren Dibbens-Wyatt —
“For it is commendable if someone bears up under the pain of unjust suffering because they are conscious of God.” 1 Peter 2:19
In his first letter, Peter tells wives and slaves (in the first century there seems little difference in point of law) that they ought to put up with unjust, even violent mistreatment. This sounds like utter foolishness to our modern ears. Sadly though, this text has been used as an argument in favour of slavery in the past, and is still dragged out of context by pastors today to tell women they should stick by abusive husbands even if it means they or their children are in danger.
But Peter is not justifying slavery or wife-beating. I’m quite sure he abhorred both. But when he was writing, women had no power to divorce their husbands and very rarely to keep their own income, and slavery was also part of the norm. These behaviours were entirely legal, and battered wives and beaten slaves had no recourse to authority to protect them. Now, thank God, there are laws to help us, and neither thing is acceptable (whatever some churches have sadly said to abused women). So at the time Peter was writing, unless they fled, they did have to bear the ill-treatment.
Peter is talking about how they might do this as followers of Christ. His point is about attitude, and is simply this: it is how we respond to brokenness, both in ourselves and in others, that spreads the gospel message. We should have a lived-out attitude that endures unfairness and returns love for evil, emulating Christ as suffering Messiah. That is the difference the world needs to see in us, precisely because it seems foolish. This is truly being counter-cultural, not how different our church café or our worship services are. This is the upside-down kingdom of God that runs, like St Francis, to kiss a disfigured leper, or crosses the road to help someone of a different religion, like the Good Samaritan in Jesus’ parable.
Jesus talked of course, about turning the other cheek. He was not instructing us to be passive doormats (one only has to study his interactions with the Pharisees to see this). Again, like Peter, he was talking about the attitude we need to display when dealing with unfair treatment. The world says strike back, get your due, have revenge, and the Jewish way had always been “an eye for an eye,” as he reminds us. But love doesn’t act like that. Love bears all things and keeps no record of wrongs (1 Corinthians 13). What a hard thing love is to live out! And so ridiculous! Who can live this way? As the Disciples (and me, if I’m honest) retorted to one of the Lord’s new commandments, “Who then, can be saved?”
Well, Jesus lived this way. He died this way too. When he was accused, spat on, derided, beaten, flogged, taunted, dragged through the streets and crucified, he could have brought all of heaven’s armies down to wreak revenge and free himself. He chose very deliberately to instead follow the via dolorosa to its inevitable end. Was he a fool? Why do this thing? Why act this way?
Because this is what love does. We do not seek out suffering, but where it is necessary or unavoidable in our pursuit of love, we have a different way. The foolish, selfless, wonderful, beautiful, holy love of God is not thinking of itself, but of others. It is saying there is another way to handle this. It is saying, I will take this undeserved punishment and give you, in return, only forgiveness. It is saying, I refuse the label of victim, and refuse to label you as perpetrator, for you know not what you do. It is preposterous. It is utter foolishness. It is how we redeem ill-treatment and transform suffering and wounds into resurrection life.
Unwarranted suffering, given to God, becomes a gateway to love and transfiguration. The foolishness of the cross, of submitting to one another in love (Ephesians 5), of rejoicing in all trials and tribulations (James 1) should mark out our lives as disciples of Christ, knowing as we do that pain and suffering precedes new life, just as winter comes before spring. As holy fools, we are already living in the wholeness of eternity, and preaching wisdom deeper than the world can grasp.
“For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe.” 1 Corinthians 1:21
by Christine Sine
The last couple of weeks have been very special for me. I spent several days in Palm Springs with Ruth Austin and Cheryl Mackey whom I roomed with when I first joined Mercy Ships in 1981. I then flew to San Francisco to spend the day with Kathryn Mar, who with her husband Doug, formed part of the early medical team on the original Mercy Ship, the M/V Anastasis. Together we dreamed and plotted and planned, slowly creating a tiny hospital that was the embryo from which Mercy Ships Medical Ministry was birthed. We also shared many incredible experiences, like the time 8,000 fish landed on the shore in front of where we were staying in Greece, which is depicted in the photo above.
On Friday maxilla-facial surgeon Dr Gary Parker, whom I recruited for our initial cleft lip and palate outreach in 1987 came to lunch together with his wife Susan. They have spent their lives on the ships, raised two kids and dedicated themselves to providing health care for some of the world’s most vulnerable. I listened in awe as Gary told stories of what has come out of the ministry I had the privilege of helping give birth to. Susan reminded me too of this prayer which I wrote several years ago especially for Mercy Ships which is still frequently shared with the crew, volunteers and donors. As I read through it again today I realized that it is important not just for those on the ships but for so many of us who work to bring justice and relieve suffering in our hurting world.
AFRICA MERCY REAR VIEW, FROM WATER
An Africa Mercy Community Prayer
Merciful Father,
You have called us from many tribes and nations,
Drawn us from many cultures and creeds,
As rich and poor, young and old,
You have embraced us together with all the hurting people of this world,
You have welcomed us as part of your eternal family.
Compassionate Christ,
You have shown us so much of the world’s injustice and pain,
And in its midst you are always there.
Let us see you in those with deformed faces and broken lives.
Let us hear you in the grieving and the oppressed,
Let us know you in the hungry and the vulnerable,
Transforming Spirit,
You whose indwelling presence brings renewal and restoration,
Flow through our hands and pour out healing,
Flow from our hearts, extend hope to the hopeless,
Flow through our lives with saving grace,
Flow through all we do and make others whole.
Eternal God, Creator, Redeemer, Comforter,
One in essence, Three in person,
Touch and transfigure us,
Let your love grow strong and deep within us.
Let your compassion bloom and overflow through us,
Let your righteousness bear fruit of mercy love and justice,
Until your world is changed,
And all creation is restored and made new.
After Gary and Susan left, I explored their daughter Carys’s vlog and wanted to share this glimpse with you.
All these friendships provided wonderful opportunities to tell stories, reminisce and remind ourselves of how God met us in the most unlikely situations. So many foolish things we got to participate in, so many miraculous results. It was renewing, faith building and rejuvenating to recount them.
Stories Matter
We all love to know that our stories matter and delight in recounting them to friends. What I didn’t realize until recently is what incredible benefits for our well being this type of retelling has.
In Brain Rules for Aging Well:10 Principles for Staying Vital, Happy and Sharp, molecular biologist John Medina documents the surprising research that shows how important reminiscing and nostalgia are for our bodies. Nostalgia promotes something called self-continuity linking who we were in the past with who we are now. When we reminisce, social connectedness increases, our sense of fulfillment in what we have accomplished increases, and positive memories rise to the surface. When we immerse ourselves in memories of our younger selves, we become healthy, our aches and pains are reduced, our weight and posture improve and our dexterity increases. Even our eyesight gets better.1 It makes me wonder what it does for our spiritual health too.
Telling our stories is powerful, even when there is pain and trauma we are uncertain about revisiting and it is far more than the nostalgia effect. Reminiscing often unveil the invisible hand of a loving God who shaped and guided us to become the people we are. When we neglect these stories, they hold us prisoner to fear and pain. Retelling them is an invitation to the exhilarating adventure of an awakened and full life.
Retell Your Story
Perhaps you too would like to reminisce and reflect on the experiences in your life that have shaped you.
Sit in your favourite chair and relax. Take some deep breaths in and out. Close your eyes and visualize the God who took delight in lovingly crafting you in your mother’s womb, nurtured you as you stumbled through the first hesitant steps of childhood, and grappled with the challenges of life. Picture God reaching down and rescuing you from your mistakes and brokenness because of that delight. Remind yourself of how special and unique your journey is and how proud God is of you.
Write Some Stories
Pull out your journal. Recount the story of your birth and the first year of your life. Where are you aware of God in this beginning point in your life? What do you think God enjoyed about your birth? Continue to reflect on those early days. What is your earliest memory of the love of God? What about the rest of your journey?
This photo above is of the Anastasis when I first joined it in Greece, not only a very important part of my life journey but also one that gives me much joy. Tell a story about the joy spots in your life journey. Compose another that highlights the struggling points in your life.
Read prayerfully through these stories: What made you feel close to God and when did you feel distanced from God? What were the practices that sustained you and brought joy to your life?
Draw a Picture
Find a big piece of paper and some colored pencils or pens. Draw a picture of your life journey as recounted in your stories. I suggest you draw a rough sketch in pencil first and then use colored pencils or pens to highlight the joy spots. Then color the struggling points. Allow your memories and the stirrings of your heart to choose the colors for you.
Enter the Joy of God
Prayerfully reflect on your picture. Dialogue with the image. Do you sense God’s joy in your journey and the person you have become? What parts of your story make you most aware of God’s enjoyment of you?
What practices enhance your awareness of God’s enjoyment ? How could you nurture and strengthen these? Respond to your impressions in writing, poetry, painting, music or whatever form of creative expression you enjoy.
If you are interested in purchasing a copy of Tales of A Seasick Doctor which recounts my story of life on the M/V Anastasis please email me at seasickdoctor@gmail.com
By Lilly Lewin
When we were little, most of us had a collection of things that we kept safe …we had a box of treasures that we collected along the way that reminded us of special times and places, and often just stuff we liked that we wanted to keep with us. Some of us still have these collections, we have shoeboxes, jars, or even scrapbooks with pictures and items that remind us of special people and special places and times that we don’t want to forget.
The Bible is filled with tangible reminders like these. God knew, and knows that we humans easily forget. We forget what God has done for us, so God uses tangible symbols to help us remember. Consider the Passover Feast, the annual reminder that God delivered his people from Egypt, or the tower of rocks in Joshua, built when crossing the Jordan River into the Promised Land. The annual festivals also reminded the children of Israel of the provision of God.
And all the sacrifices and offerings in the temple were tangible reminders…smelly, dirty, and physical reminders of what God was up to, and helped the children of Israel engage their God.
Like the children of Israel, we also need tangible, touchable ways to engage God. We all need symbols to help us remember and to remind us of what God has done, and what God is doing in our lives. We really need a tool box to carry with us on our journey so we have the tools we need to engage God and remember God’s goodness.
So why not start a collection? Why not start your own Spiritual Tool Box?
Find a box, make one, or buy one. One that brings you joy just to look at it or even a real tool box!
The ideal box would be large enough to hold a Bible and a Journal along with other symbols photos, objects that can help you connect with Jesus.
Here are some questions to ask yourself as you begin. These questions and activities can help you begin a life long every day engagement with Jesus. Providing tools for the journey.
What things help you connect with God?
What books, images, photos, symbols remind you of God and what God has done in your life so far?
Maybe you come up blank…maybe you’ve never thought of this at all.
So first, think of a time and place where you’ve felt close to God…
Picture that place or that setting…maybe it’s outside in nature, maybe it was while you were hiking, running, at camp or on vacation. Maybe it was spending time at the lake, beach or mountains, may be it was while you were looking at the stars or creating something, or playing music.
Find an object or objects, or photographs that remind you of this place or these times.Place these objects and/or photographs in your box.
As an additional experience, you might create a collage of pictures that
speak to you of places and experiences where you have felt God’s presence. Or a collage or drawing with words and pictures that remind you of God’s goodness and mercy.
What else could you keep in your box?
Art supplies, a sketch pad
Photos to remind you to pray for friends or family members.
A map of the world or a small globe. I found a ball at the dollar store that had a map of the world on it to help me pray for global issues.
Something local to help you pray for your neighborhood or town.
Lyrics to a favorite song or two.
The Children of Israel had a series of psalms they sang as they made their pilgrimage to Jerusalem every year. Is there a song that when you hear it reminds you of God…or helps you connect with God ? It doesn’t have to be a “Christian” song. What songs really speak to you? Write down or print out the words to the song…keep that in your tool box
When I did this practice with my youth group students, I gave out actual Tool boxes to keep their bibles, journals and the symbols and treasures in. The idea was they would keep the box handy and have it for their devotion times, encouraging them to spend more time with God. So this is a great practice to do for yourself and with your own kids, or students in your church community. All ages can start this practice! And the symbols and items in your spiritual tool box and can change and grow as your age and relationship with Jesus changes and grows! Be creative and use your imagination!
What would you like to put in your Spiritual Tool Box?
What things would bring you joy? What things would encourage you to be with Jesus and to engage God? What things would help you spend time falling more in love with Jesus? Consider the Practice of the Spiritual Tool Box!
By John Birch —
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