Continuing with our current Godspace theme, For the Love of the World God Did Something Foolish by Steve Daugherty —
My twelve-year-old son has way of holding his face when he’s upset. He was holding it that way as we walked to the car for school. I asked him what was going on.
“I just feel like there’s not much point in being thankful for my life if somebody’s just gonna drop nuclear bombs on us.”
The buzz in sixth grade had apparently been that leaders of nations were talking like kids sometimes do from across a cafeteria about who was going to do what to the other. But instead of each threatening the other with prepubescent fists, the leaders had their fingers hovering over big doomsday buttons, smack-taking with millions of lives in the crosshairs. Like many adults, my son was starting to feel trapped in other people’s crazy cafeteria.
We talked in the car about life, and people. I explained what the Cold War was, and how I grew up in a time when President Reagan pitched a Star Wars that never made it to theaters, I assured him that every generation has to navigate a beautiful world pocked with the divots of madmen. I tried to transmit my informed calm; there’s nothing new under the sun, son.
But for the first time I found myself explaining why our faith matters at a societal level. How it was far more than our club and the rules our club follows. I told him about Caesar Augustus, who was referred to as the son of god, and as lord and savior. A real kiss the ring situation everyone pretended to love. I explained Pax Romana, the idea that peace was had and kept by mass-murdering potential threats and threat sympathizers. I tried to help my boy feel the world into which Jesus of Nazareth was born, and the one in which he’d died. “The world has been crazy for a long time,” I explained. “But in that same world, the tradition of love and joy has always been crazy enough to exist too.”
I felt like I was teaching my son naïveté as spirituality, and paused to reconsider. But my son was smiling and nodding. So I kept talking.
“In every generation, there are people who know how to see God’s Light shining even while the crazy happens. People who don’t become the crazy or get pushed around by the crazy. That’s who we try to be, at work and school and everywhere else; those who live like we see light when others can only see darkness.” I was on a roll now, trying to get it all in before we got to the curb at his school. “It’s a different sort of strong, buddy—a different sort of revolution. Jesus called it a Kingdom. One that doesn’t conquer or intimidate or hurt others, but is where love is awakened and people can be united. But I understand it feels sort of foolish to think of the world needing what it needs, and getting a baby in a manger growing up to be a man who won’t fight and always lifts up others and says things like love your enemy.” It was here that I realized I was talking to myself.
The image of Jesus healing the ear of the arresting soldier who Peter tried to kill on behalf of the good guys popped into my mind, followed by an image of my son getting his butt kicked because of his dad’s Pollyanna carpool sermons. I want my son to be a good man in a crazy world, and teaching him how to be a damned loving fool is all I can think to do.
Just as the vague sense that I was sending my son to school as an unprepared idiot came to me, I remembered that I’d been asked to read 1 Corinthians 13 at a wedding I was doing later that week. Love hopes all things and never fails. Surely I didn’t reserve that for matrimonial harmony but not the human experience in general. Surely love’s diehard hopefulness is what we all needed, from 6th grade outward. Surely those words, foolish as they seem in the “real world,” are for the Whole Family.
I looked over at my son and saw strength back in his face. I hoped it was the strength that comes with realizing peace and love don’t wait for permission to do their thing, and are therefore their own strength.
“When people compared it to the Empire,” my son said, “they must’ve been amazed Jesus’ way actually worked.”
“Well buddy…” We were at the curb now. I paused longer than I intended. “To be honest we’ve yet to fully give it a go.”
Steve Daugherty is a pastor and storyteller near Raleigh, NC. He is also the author of the book Experiments in Honesty: Meditations on Love, Fear and the Honest to God Naked Truth, new on shelves this March. Learn more at stevedaugherty.net
by Christine Sine
In last week’s Meditation Monday – Going for the Gold , I talked about how impressed I was by the discipline of the young Olympic athletes and their commitment to endure in the hope of winning gold. Several people asked me what disciplines I currently use to keep myself on track so I thought I would share these with you.
Start With A Cup of Tea
My morning prayer time begins, not with a prayer or a scripture reading, but with a cup of tea. My practices change over the years but this is the one consistent point that anchors my day. With my cup of tea in my hand I feel I can accomplish anything.
Center Yourself
Second I center myself by sitting quietly for a couple of minutes with my feet firmly planted on the ground contemplating my Lenten garden. I take a few deep breaths in and out allowing the peace of God to flood my heart. I say the following prayer which I have written out on a piece of paper, and take a few more deep breaths in and out.
Light Some Candles
My third step is to light candles, purple for the season. One sits in front of photos of my family and of myself with Tom. I pray for each person in the photos. Then I light the candle on my nature table and pray for the world. My third candle sits on my small altar, decorated especially for Lent. My last candle sits on what I call my repentance table where I have placed several broken pieces of glass and broken crystals that I collected years ago in Australia.
Enjoy Another Cup of Tea
By then I am ready for another cup of tea. Getting up to refill my cup is a great way to stretch and refocus from the contemplative inward journey to a more outward focus.
Labyrinth design by Shelby Selvidge
Get Creative
With my cup of tea in hand I pull out my creativity journal. Some mornings I colour this labyrinth pattern to center myself once more, but primarily I ask myself questions.
Over the last week this has blossomed with new images as I have asked myself a progression of questions about what I would give up for love of God and for love of the world. Next week I will add images that move me into life changes that I need to take on now not just for Lent but for the season beyond Easter too. 
Read Some Scripture
Next I read scripture – this year using the book A Fragrant Offering by John Birch whose prayers and readings I am finding particularly inspiring. At this season I am only reading a verse or two so a book like this is ideal. I can reread the same scriptures several days in a row or choose a new one each morning.
Finish With Prayer
Finally I read another prayer and add my own spontaneous prayers before blowing out my candles and moving into the day.
Go To Bed with Prayer
I am also finding that an evening discipline is important for this season. Sometimes a modified Prayer of Examen, sometimes a breathing prayer but also a ritual when I put away my cell phone (there is more and more evidence that cell phones by our beds at night is not good for us, and reading on our cell phones definitely makes it harder to sleep).
My favourite prayer for the evening is this Welcome the Night prayer that I wrote several years ago.
by Lilly Lewin
For Lent this year, our thinplaceNASHVILLE community is reading Sabbath as Reisistance: Saying No to the Culture of Now by Walter Brueggemann. My husband Rob and I read this book together while on vacation last summer, and it’s perhaps the most important book we’ve read in five years. And it’s only 89 pages! Walter Brueggemann is an Old Testament scholar who invites us to look at the Exodus story and the workaholic nature of Pharaoh in contrast to the radical gift of Sabbath rest that is given to us by God.
The new edition of the book comes with a study guide included, but to get you started on your Sabbath practice, here are the questions we used for our journaling time on Sunday. Take some time this weekend to journal these questions yourself. But more importantly, actually pause, rest and practice Sabbath.
- When you hear the word Sabbath, what things come to mind? Positives? Negatives?
- How much of your self worth is based on Work, or your performance?
- What is the difference between Restlessness and Restfulness?
- How can the Gift of Sabbath give you the margin you need to LOVE others?
- If you actually planned a Sabbath day with God, what would that day look like? What would you delete from your day, what would you add?
- Read the verses below: How do you feel about them? How does it feel to have a God who values REST? To have a God who actually RESTS?
Matthew 11:29-30 New International Version (NIV)
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11:29-30 The Message (MSG)
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
Genesis 2: 1-2 Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array.
By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.
If you are looking for a book to challenge and encourage you this Lenten season, or you just want to learn more about the practice and gift of Sabbath rest, take time to read Sabbath as Resistance.
By Jody Lee Collins —
The city of New Orleans has a singular reputation for “laissez les bon temps rouler” (“let the good times roll”) no matter what time of year. During Mardi Gras, though, the celebrations take on an over-the-top frenzy that is hard to match. It is also somewhat hard to believe unless one is actually there in person to witness the city’s crazy times.
We lived in New Orleans in the 1970’s and saw this dress-up carnival cum Halloween celebration firsthand. Mardi Gras (French for ‘Fat Tuesday’) offers the citizens and umpty zillion of their best friends to dress up, dance and drink, throw candy and don beads. There are parades uptown, downtown, in the suburbs, everywhere.
I think I still have some beads (certainly none of the candy) from one of those parades. I also have snapshots of folks in the crowds during one bawdy celebration—I’ve never seen so many grown-ups in costume. In New Orleans many of the folks live for Mardi Gras, its year round preparation and presence synonymous with their fair, old city.
In theory, Mardi Gras (on February 13th) is a day to indulge one’s senses, for the next day—Ash Wednesday—is to be one marked by ashes and repentance.
Ash Wednesday begins the season of Lent, the forty days of prayer and fasting observed by many faith traditions. The juxtaposition of Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday is a bit of a conundrum this year since they fall on the same day. Lenten practices are intended to prepare our hearts for the celebration of Easter, but like the candy and costumes on Mardi Gras, the overwhelm of the world has overshadowed the meaning of Lent. All that Valentine’s candy doesn’t help.
When I was growing up, Easter Sunday meant See’s candy eggs and Easter baskets and new dresses, complete with hats and gloves. My siblings and I probably went to church for the occasion–obviously, look at these cute photos–but my memories of that holiday have much more to do with fashion, not my faith.
When I became a Christian in the 70’s, the reflective period of Lent was not included in our non-denominational worship. I missed out on those early church practices that take us from the darkness of Good Friday to the light and glory hallelujah of Easter. But it is good to remember that joyous Sunday comes at a cost—the death and burial of Jesus—on our behalf.
So, how are we to Lent? (I realize Lent is a noun, not a verb. I borrowed that from my friend Seth Haines.)
It is good for us to sit in the dark sometimes while we contemplate the light of Jesus that has come into the world. It is also good for us to contemplate our own dark places. Where have we let sin creep in? Those shortcuts we use to circumvent God’s work in our lives? I often fall into the trap of meeting my needs my way, attempting to satisfy God-breathed longings with works and ways of my own devising. I’m thankful when the Holy Spirit reminds me of that.
What else can we do?
Sitting in silence while we seek the Holy Spirit’s still, small voice and dedicate ourselves to listen is a first step. Be aware of God showing you what practices you can leave or lay down to turn your focus back to God. Fasting and prayer can also be part of the equation.
But fasting doesn’t have to be from physical food. Consider those soul-filling ‘foods’ that have taken the place of God’s presence. Is there something getting in the way of hearing Him? Fast from the noise of social media—my frequent nemesis. (My word for the year is ‘listen’, the same letters in the word ‘silent’, as a friend pointed out.)
Put down your phone and take a walk.
Go outside, sit on your deck, look out the window.
(Talking to myself here.)
Put off, lay aside, turn off–all are ways to deny our flesh, that Christianese phrase for fasting. But the beauty of fasting is the welcoming way those spiritual practices create space for God to to be the One who feeds us and fills us.
When Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day coincided (collided?) with each other last week, how about this? “…celebrate your love by committing to a season of intentional preparation for your Love of loves.” -Seth Haines
When you sign or send or see a paper or candy heart, think about giving your heart to God, wholly and completely. Just like He gave to us.
That’s how to live in the season of Lent.
by Christine Sine
Today one of my heroes died. Like many around the world I have been deeply impacted by the ministry of Billy Graham. I have not always agreed with him but that has not diminished his influence on my life. When I was a young Christian, he challenged me and many of my friends to take our faith more seriously. Not surprising in some ways. He preached to an estimated 215 million people in 185 countries around the world during his life, and his message reached millions more as he maintained a near-constant presence on radio, television and the internet. Not only did he counsel presidents, he was also a close friend of Dr Martin Luther King. Queen Elizabeth also counted him as a friend and would meet with him whenever he came to the U.K.
Now as he is welcomed into the loving arms of God my prayer is that his dedication and commitment will continue to inspire all of us that still walk this earth in the name of Jesus. May his passion for our Savior continue to guide us forward into truth and justice. May his love for God enrich our faith and increase our love and concern for this world in which we live.
By Mandy Smith —
“Once God got me on the bus he switched the sign on the front.”
It’s a flip way I sometimes joke about the pain of living out a decision I made 30 years ago, one I still don’t understand—the decision to follow God’s call to ministry.
My husband and I have always joked about getting married on April Fools’ Day. Since the decisions to marry and to serve in ministry together felt like one decision, we made our wedding and our ordination into one ceremony. Five minutes after we’d committed to a life together, the elders laid hands on us and we were already giving that new life away. Doubly fools
When I decided to marry I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought the marrying part was a way to commit to be forever with this person I already knew. What was actually happening was a commitment to spend the rest of my life learning about him. No one told me it’s the same with committing to a life in ministry.
Which is why I’ve come to love the way that epistemologist, Esther Lightcap Meek describes our commitment to what we do not yet know. “To pledge is to say ‘I do’ to the knowing venture . . . . Pledging your allegiance to what you do not yet know is enormously risky . . . . We pledge to take the risk to follow something that may prove not to be there, something that may prove to be way different from what we imagine. We accept the prospect that others might think us foolish—that we might prove to be foolish.” (A Little Manual for Knowing, p 27)
It’s easy to think God was cruel to switch the signs on the bus. But thirty years ago I could not have even imagined where I am now and what I’m doing now, much less be able to assent to it. Making “sensible” decisions means we expect—as the person we are before we even begin—to fully understand something we’ve never done before. What if the 2018 outcomes are beyond our 1990 comprehension? What if we have to take the first step before we can even imagine the second? So to make a commitment to follow God will always mean making decisions that look foolish to those who have not yet ventured into the commitment—including ourselves.
And although I still can’t explain how I got here or why, on the days I feel most foolish and confused, I ask myself, “What else would I do?” And as much as this path feels foolish, there is nothing else that makes any more sense.
And so, it’s with relief that I read Frederick Buechner’s reminder that, although I misread it, foolishness was the sign on my bus all along.
“The joke of it is that often it is the preacher who as steward of the wildest mystery of them all is the one who hangs back, prudent, cautious, hopelessly mature and wise to the last when no less than Saint Paul tells [her] to be a fool for Christ’s sake, no less than Christ tells [her] to be a child for [her] own and the kingdom’s sake.” (Telling the Truth, p 98.)
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Originally from Australia, Mandy Smith is lead pastor of University Christian Church, a campus and neighborhood congregation with its own fair-trade café in Cincinnati, Ohio. She is a regular contributor to Christianity Today publications and the Missio Alliance Blog and the author of The Vulnerable Pastor: How Human Limitations Empower Our Ministry. Mandy and her husband Jamie, a New Testament professor at Cincinnati Christian University, live with their two kids in a little house where the teapot is always warm.
By Talitha Fraser —
“Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love”
What words do we ever have to express our love well? This is said by Orlando as he puts a poem in tree, Act III Scene II of Shakespeare’s As You Like It. He is in the woods to escape from his brother who is trying to kill him and his love, Rosalind, is also there banished from Court and disguised as a man. As you’d expect – it is a play with comedy, tragedy and rife with misunderstandings. The poems, or love letters to Rosalind, are nonsensical, unflattering and rhyme poorly… they’re bad. They’re bad poems. That’s what makes them so funny. But for all that, they are endearing for being sincerely felt. Orlando doesn’t know whether Rosalind will ever find them and read them but there is something in him to say that cannot go unexpressed.
I can relate to that feeling. A longing to express something profound – a love I don’t have words for. What faltering words do I have to try and describe God or to worship God that hasn’t already been said before? What does it look like to love God, to be so consumed by a love of God that it spills over, and you struggle to shape mere words to describe a love so large… how might it look to say what you want to say without weighing its value but freely giving voice to your feelings and thoughts as they come?
I want to talk to God. I want to talk about the joy, the grief and the misunderstandings. I want to talk to God in poems and journals, prayers – silent and spoken, reading, walking, talking, storytelling… and via notes left in the trees for God to find. I took paper (biodegradable with native daisy seeds pressed in it), a pen and a prayerful walk in the woods. It felt like a foolish thing to do… and it felt wonderful. I cannot know if this was an offering that was pleasing to God but I hope it was endearing for being sincerely felt.
Romans 8:25-28 invites us to wait with patience for what we cannot see and trust the Spirit to intercede and translate on our behalf to make simple words profoundly meaningful to the God who loves us… to the God who’s listening…
“Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love” 
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