Love

Ruth Haley Barton, in Sacred Rhythms, says that when it comes to deciding what to do in any situation, we need to step back, pause, and remember that the primary calling of all Christians is to love. What would love call us to do in this situation? What would love do? Love is our deepest calling. John tells us of Jesus:  

Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. (John 13:1) 

She thinks that any decision that fails to ask the love question misses the point of Christian practice.

            I agree with her.

Yet, love does not solve everything. I find John Wesley intriguing on this point. He points out that even love in all its purity will not protect us from many mistakes.[1]  

1)      Many mistakes may exist together with pure love.

2)      Some may accidently flow from it. I mean, love itself may incline us to mistake. The pure love of our neighbor, springing from the love of God, thinks no evil, believes and hopes all things. Now, this very temperament, unsuspicious, ready to believe and hope the best of all people, may cause us to think some people are really better than they are. Here then is a clear mistake accidentally flowing from love. 

In this sense, “love” is not the only answer to life. We need the balance of other qualities, in particular wisdom, honesty, and discernment, in order to determine properly what God wants in a situation.

Clearly, we need one another. It is so obvious.  Or is it.  Do we really make relationships a priority?

Albert Schweitzer could say in his Memoirs of Childhood and Youth (1925, p. 87): 

When I look back upon my early days, I am stirred by the thought of the number of people whom I have to thank for what they gave me or what they were to me.  At the same time, I am haunted by an oppressive consciousness of the little gratitude I really showed them while I was young.  How many of them have said farewell to life without my having made clear to them what it meant to me to receive from them so much kindness or so much care!  Many a time have I, with a feeling of shame, said quietly to myself over a grave the words which my mouth ought to have spoken to the departed, while he was still in the flesh. 

            There is a little picture of a turtle on top of fence post.  The caption simply says, "If you see a turtle on a fence post, you know it had help." We need each other, more than we know.

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[1] John Wesley, Chapter 4 of Plain Account of Christian Perfection.

Coca Cola Life

Not the same old formula.

In recent years, companies have learned how dangerous it is to change the ingredients of a successful brand. Exactly 30 years ago, in April 1985, Coca-Cola changed its formula and introduced a product called "New Coke." The response was overwhelmingly negative, and within three months, the original formula was back on the market.

Just how bad was it? The company hotline received 1,500 calls a day, almost four times what they usually logged. Psychiatrists listened in on calls and heard people talking as though they were grieving the death of a family member.

Southerners saw the change through the lens of the Civil War, describing it as yet another surrender to the Yankees. Even Fidel Castro despised New Coke, reportedly calling it "a sign of American capitalist decadence."

Bottom line: Be careful when you change a successful brand. You might end up breaking something that does not need fixing.

Oddly enough, Coke has decided to change its formula once again, offering a new version called "Coca-Cola Life." It was launched in Argentina before being test-marketed in the United Kingdom, and came to the United States in September 2014. People are wondering if it is healthier than regular Coke, since its formula contains a sweetener from natural sources. "Coca-Cola Life" will get its sweetness from sugar and stevia, which is derived from a plant in the chrysanthemum family. Instead of regular Coke's 140 calories per can, Life will have 89.

It competes with Pepsi True, also made with stevia.

Coca-Cola has started offering Life. Here is what one person ponders about the new Coke.

For a moment, imagine the marketing meeting that must have taken place when they decided on the branding of this new product. Was there not anybody in that room who thought that naming it Coca-Cola Life was a terrible idea? What does that make normal Coca-Cola with its normal amount of sugar — Coca-Cola Death?[1]

            This move of Coke toward Life, and even Pepsi toward Truth, might suggest a sermon for some preachers.

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[1] Gary Bainbridge, "Coca Cola Life, and why you can't have it both ways," Mirror, October 9, 2014, mirror.co.uk.

On Solitude

           

This picture represents much of the spiritual formation view of solitude. An article in the Word World suggests that most people find being alone with their thoughts and with no distractions is unpleasant. Some people would rather give themselves electric shocks than sit alone thinking for even six minutes. Timothy Wilson and some colleagues at the University of Virginia and Harvard University conducted a series of 11 studies. The abstract, published in the July 4, 2014 issue of science magazine, summarized the results in the following way. 

"In 11 studies, we found that participants typically did not enjoy spending 6 to 15 minutes in a room by themselves with nothing to do but think, that they enjoyed doing mundane external activities much more, and that many preferred to administer electric shocks to themselves instead of being left alone with their thoughts. Most people seem to prefer to be doing something rather than nothing, even if that something is negative." 

            Participants ranged in age from 18 to 77. Those conducting the study told them to entertain themselves alone in a room with just their thoughts. They could also imagine doing one of three pleasant activities, such as hiking. Regardless of age, the participants showed no fondness for being alone and thinking. On the nine-point scale, the average rating was in the middle. They would rather have something to do than have nothing to do. This was true, even if we are talking about a brief period. In one phase of the study, you had the option of being alone for 15 minutes or administering yourself an electric shock. 12 of the 18 males (67 percent) and six of the 24 females (25 percent) gave themselves at least one electric shock during the 15-minute period. The conclusion of those conducting the study is that the human naturally engages the world. Even when we are by ourselves, our focus is the outside world. Without training in meditation, people would prefer to engage the world.

            The point of the study is to highlight the challenges of the disengaged mind. By disengaging, spirituality wants to suggest that we focus upon the inner life, and consider in a meditative spirit the way in which we process our interactions with the external world. Much of spirituality focuses on limiting or modifying the influence of the external world. The failure to spend such time alone for considering such matters may well lead to spiritual issues. It highlights that we cannot really disengage from the world, but we can consider how we interact with it. I wonder how personality type, especially the introvert versus the extrovert, would relate to such a study.

            Does the difficulty in spending time alone mean that our society is working too hard? Does such a study indict our sinful nature? Does it mean we are hard-wired for external rather than internal reality? Wilson thinks our minds do have some hardwiring toward engaging the world rather than focus on our internal world. What does this mean for the whole notion of quiet time with God? It may well mean that spirituality is as much involved in our engagement with the world as it is sitting in silence.

            Maybe the truth is that we can be active and engaged in the world and thinking deeply at the same time. We may need to spend more time considering how active engagement and pondering join in our spirituality. Scott Peck writes of the importance of thinking well. It does not come naturally. We must learn to think well as we process relationships with people and our world.[1]

            Stan Purdum will say that the bicycle is a marvelous thought machine, combining activity with thought and silence. Brother Lawrence, a monk of the 1600s, wrote The Practice of the Presence of God. At one point, he writes that the time of business in the kitchen does not differ from the time of prayer. The point is that we need to find the means that works best for us to ponder the issues of life and the things of God.

            Here is something to ponder. 

Sloth is not to be confused with laziness. Lazy people, people who sit around and watch the grass grow, may be people at peace. Their sun-drenched, bumblebee dreaming may be the prelude to action or itself an act well worth the acting. Slothful people, on the other hand, may be very busy people. They are people who go through the motions, who fly on automatic pilot. Like somebody with a bad head cold, they have mostly lost their sense of taste and smell. They know something's wrong with them, but not wrong enough to do anything about it. Other people come and go, but through glazed eyes they hardly notice them. They are letting things run their course. They are getting through their lives.[2] 

 

 

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[1] Peck, M. Scott. The Road Less Traveled and Beyond. New York: Touchstone, 1997, 23 ff.

[2] --Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC (Harper & Row, 1973), 89-90.

On Sin

I have been reflecting upon how notions of sin are changing. It has led me to some traditional writings that I have found helpful.

First, the Middle Ages developed a list of seven sins that it classed as the worst possible kinds of sin.  These the seven deadly sins were Pride, Greed, Anger, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth (laziness), Unfaithfulness (adultery).

A range of popular books on the Enneagram (from the Greek ennea, or "nine"), which is a symbol of wholeness, have been part of my life.  One such book is Helen Palmer's The Enneagram (Harper, 1988).  She uses the number nine for the seven deadly sins, previously mentioned, plus two more: fear, and deceit.  She uses the Enneagram model to show how spiritual transformation can occur through dealing with one's predominant compulsion in life.  This approach is based on the belief that each person has one primary drive, or "besetting sin," which is the principal force in determining that person's personality (though it does not mean that other sins are not present and active in the individual).   One example from Palmer's book is the sin of "sloth" or indolence.  These people major in minors--too much TV, food, trivial pursuits--neglecting their real needs.  They are good-natured, but undisciplined.  The gift of the risen Christ to this personality type does not destroy their good naturedness but places within them a new desire for action and responsibility. In each case (or sin), Palmer shows how each one can be transformed through abiding in Christ, thereby adding to the Body of Christ with ones own unique presence and being.

Second, consider that possibility that evil is banal. Hannah Arendt, the philosopher, attended the trial of Adolf Eichman in Jerusalem back in 1958.  Sitting through all the long sessions of the trial, the impression gradually grew on her, she said, that Eichmann's evil was rooted in something very banal ... in "thoughtlessness."  Eichmann, she concluded, felt no guilt, because he thought that all he did was part of "the fateful struggle of the German people," and along with others at the trial, viewed himself as "an innocent executor of some mysteriously foreordained destiny."  This kind of "thoughtless" behavior that Arendt saw as resulting from Eichmann's excusing of himself; can confuse anyone who looks upon sinful actions in an unrealistic way. 

Third, reflect upon the possibility that sin is an always-present human reality. Can a believer ever be free of sin?  Some notables thought not.  Martin Luther caved into our sinful nature and sighed, "Trust God and sin on bravely."  Augustine seemed to say something similar in an "anything goes" remark when he said a Christian should "love, and do what he wants."  

Yet, the epistle writer John says that no one who abides in him sins; no one who sins has either seen him or known him.  Here is one commentator's explanation on this, which seems on the mark: 

            When a boy goes to a new school, and does something out of keeping with the school's tradition or good name, he is told immediately, "That isn't done here."  A literalist might reply, "But obviously it is done; this boy has just done it"--but he would be deliberately missing the point of the rebuke.  The point is that such conduct is disapproved of in this school, so anyone who practices it can normally be assumed not to belong to the school.  So it is in belonging to the family of God; sin "just isn't done here."  Fellowship with the sinless One and indulgence in sin are a contradiction in terms.  Whatever high claims may be made by one who indulges in sin, that indulgence is sufficient proof that that one has no personal knowledge of Christ.[1]

A traditional hymn is, "The King of Love my Shepherd is."  I particularly love the verse that says, 

     Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, But yet in love He sought me,

     And on His shoulder gently laid, And home, rejoicing brought me. 

            Perhaps--like me--you have a past that includes sins of thought and action that you have come to realize were wrong.  And--also like me--you have found that God does willingly lay us on His shoulder and carry us home to the consciousness of His redeeming love.

Whatever the literary genre, Madeleine L'Engle upholds that a writer's responsibility is to radiate hope, to bring healing, to say yes to life. Her works wrestle with the unanswerable questions of life and death, God and darkness. Walking on Water is a book about how faith and art influence one another. She argues that there is a "chief difference between the Christian and the secular artist - the purpose of the work, be it story or music or painting, is to further the coming of the Kingdom, to make us aware of our status as children of God, and to turn our feet toward home."

Her stories accomplish this primarily through her characters, real or fictional. Readers develop relationships with them, discussing them with other L'Engle fans as if they were chatting about friends. As L'Engle proposes, "We all want to be able to identify with the major characters in a book - to live, suffer, dream and grow through vicarious experience." Readers can heal their own painful childhood moments just as the female teenage protagonists who are believable, ordinary girls struggle with their growing up years.[2]

 

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[1] (F.F. Bruce, The Epistles of John, p. 90, Eerdmans)

[2] Suzanne St. Yves, "Into the Depths of the Human Heart: Madeleine L'Engle's Search for God," November 9, 1999, www2.ari.net/bsabath/950331.html.

On Parentage

I John 3:2 says that we are the children of God “now.” We are now what eternity will reveal us to be. The phrase raises the question of our parentage. I like to think of this as an analogy between the parents who raised us and our spiritual parentage. The picture is of my youngest son, his wife, his son, and his daughter. This was a good day. Some people see a resemblance, and some do not. What do you think? In any case, the point is that physically, we are like our parents.

We may also be like our parents in other, deeper ways.

In what ways are we like our spiritual parent? I have come across a few authors who have offered some interesting reflections. I simply offer them to you for your meditation and prayer. 

God carries your picture in his wallet.[1] 

When I was growing up, my surname was Rothschild. My grandfather used to say that we were the “Brooklyn branch” of the fabulously wealthy European bankers. If there is a family connection, we never found it, but people nonetheless made a lot of assumptions because of the name. I learned that it was useful for making restaurant reservations.[2] 

The church is very good at doing things for people, but we are not very good at proximity and partnership. There is a big difference between dragging folks into your soup kitchen and simply hanging out with them on the street corner. There is a difference between bringing others into the church so that they can be like you and becoming immersed in someone else’s struggle.

Things change for you when you hang out with people and become partners with them. Suppose you are tutoring children in a low-income neighborhood. When you begin to see that your pupils are gifted, bright, talented children, yet realize that many of them are flunking out of school, it pushes you to challenge and change the public school system. When you begin to know people’s hopes and fears, dreams and struggles, you move into the fight for justice.

            If you redefine everything in light of this new priority — being present with people and in partnership with them, being concerned with justice rather than just charity — everything changes. Children’s ministry becomes redefined as ministry with all God’s children — the children hanging out on the streets, not just those that an adult brings to church.[3]  

            Whatever the literary genre, [Madeleine] L'Engle upholds that a writer's responsibility is to radiate hope, to bring healing, to say yes to life. Her works wrestle with the unanswerable questions of life and death, God and darkness. In Walking on Water, a superb book about how faith and art influence one another, L'Engle argues that there is a "chief difference between the Christian and the secular artist - the purpose of the work, be it story or music or painting, is to further the coming of the Kingdom, to make us aware of our status as children of God, and to turn our feet toward home."

              Her stories accomplish this primarily through her characters, real or fictional. Readers develop relationships with them, discussing them with other L'Engle fans as if they were chatting about friends. As L'Engle proposes in Walking on Water, "We all want to be able to identify with the major characters in a book - to live, suffer, dream and grow through vicarious experience." Readers can heal their own painful childhood moments just as the female teenage protagonists who are believable, ordinary girls struggle with their growing up years.[4]

 

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[1] —Sociology professor Tony Campolo, quoted by Jeanette Clift George, “Dad meets the messy baby,” Men of Integrity, January 18, 2000, ChristianityToday.com.

 

[2] —Nina Utne, “What’s in a name?” Utne, November-December 2002, 12.Used by permission.

[3] —Janet Wolf, “Ministry with all God’s children,” New World Outlook, gbgm-umc.org. Retrieved December 5, 2002.

 

[4] -Suzanne St. Yves, "Into the Depths of the Human Heart: Madeleine L'Engle's Search for God," November 9, 1999, www2.ari.net/bsabath/950331.html.

 

Taking Confession LIghtly?

What is the one thing you have done that nobody else can ever know about?

            Gulp. The mere thought inspires a hard swallow and a pounding heart. Rest at ease. There are now quick and convenient, anonymous and even aesthetic ways to deal with those nagging sins of yours: cyberspace confessions. Think of an online confessional booth as an electronic Post-it-Note. Those ever-present Post-its have brought a sticky, yellow-pad revolution to the absent-minded office worker. What might Post-a-Sin do for the busy and guilt-laden pilgrim in need of conscience cleansing? Have some slip-ups to shake loose and cannot make it down to the parish priest? No problem. Just have them absolved by posting them online at an e-confessional. You are just a few keystrokes away from a clean slate.

            What if you are more of the artsy type who needs to get something off your chest? Again, cyber-reality has a perfect solution for you. There is a Web site where you can submit a postcard-sized artistic rendering of your transgressions. Just include a statement of the issue that you need to reveal — and by all means — you must keep it anonymous. Then these ownerless mail-in confessions are posted on the site so others can read your acknowledgment and admire the way you aesthetically captured it. A comment from a regular of the site reads: “I love this Web site … makes me feel everything I’ve done is closer to human. I wish they would expand and update more often then once a week. I look forward to the new postings as they open up my eyes each time.”

            What a voyeuristic bonus! Would you like to hear some confessions? 

• I removed the book jackets from trashy novels so that I look more sophisticated.

• If something is hard, I give up and have a snack.

• I wish my daughter loved me.

• I was once so lonely that I mailed a letter to myself telling me I was great and signed it from Johnny Depp. 

      The rest of the world can get online and appreciate the splendor of your sinful actions. And consider the therapeutic benefits here. Others can go look at the hideousness of what you confessed and instantly feel better about their own minor mishaps and   peccadilloes. Who needs a priest or a time of prayer anymore? And why bother with an expensive therapist to improve self-esteem? No need to visit the local art gallery. We can get all of those needs met in one place. Anonymous, artistic, confessional and voyeuristic.

Oh, this is brilliant.

            It is no wonder that reality television dominates the Nielsen ratings. We love to wallow in other people’s garbage. It entertains us. It shocks us. It makes us feel better about ourselves. So why not bring the same benefits to confession? Quick. Easy. And tasty as well.

            Confession of sin is important, of course, and we must not make light of it.  One writer used this analogy.

 A few years ago, my wife and I discovered that we had termites in our house. We had just bought this house a short time earlier, and yes, as part of the purchase contract we had it inspected for termites. The inspector found no evidence of a problem at that time, so we bought it with confidence. Unfortunately, there were some uninvited guests moving in at the same time we did. We couldn’t see them. No one knew they were there. But hidden away in the darkness, an army of termites was busy invading that house ....

The areas of sin in my life are very much like the termites in my house. The sin was there when I came to Christ, but it was hidden. I looked okay on the outside, and no one would have thought I had a problem with sin. Even I didn’t recognize it. Just like my house passed its inspection a year ago, the people who knew me thought I was a pretty good person  — and I suppose by outward standards I was. But deep down in my soul, little bits of sin were there, gnawing away at me. One tiny termite doesn’t eat very much. Unless you leave it alone for a while, and it invites friends. Then it will destroy your house. My “little” sins were acting just the same.

Now that I am over being upset about the termites, I am actually glad that we found them. If they had not broken to the surface, we would not have known to call the exterminator. They would have just kept eating away until our house fell completely apart. It’s just the same with sin.[1]  

 

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[1] —Steve Rogers, “Termites of sin,” steverogers.org. Retrieved October 18, 2002.