Some Good News Out of Washington, D.C.

On June 15-22, six youth from my church travelled with another chaperone and myself to Washington, D.C. to work with CSM (www.CSM.org) learning about urban poverty and God’s heart for the city. During the week we served at six different ministries and spent time conversing with the homeless and other residents of the city. There are dozens of stories we have from our time there that we will share with our congregation, but in the immediate aftermath, here are a few ideas we ended up discussing again and again.

Unlearning Distance -- This was CSM’s theme for the summer, based on 2 Corinthians 5:17-21. The passage includes the words we have on our bulletin every week -- “God reconciled us to himself in Christ Jesus and has given us the ministry of reconciliation” -- and we discussed how things like wealth, ethnicity, gender, and politics create divisions in our society, but God’s desire is to break down the barriers between us and build connections. In one example, we sat and talked with a homeless man in a park for an hour and a half in a conversation many kids named as one of their favorite parts of the trip. The lesson: When we break down barriers, we often find the distance is not as great as we thought.

Give Dignity, Not Just Food -- One of the stories that stuck with our students was of a CSM director who stopped to talk with a man asking for change outside a store. When he did, the man started crying and shared he was the first person all day to even acknowledge he was there. We experienced the same in people who were just as grateful for company or a smile as they were for food or clothing. One student summed up the lesson by saying, “I learned giving someone dignity is more important than giving them food.”

Start Small -- At least two of the ministries we served with didn’t start with a plan to become what they are today, or even to be a regular ministry at all. They started when a homeless man asked for a cup of coffee and when someone tried to find furniture for a neighbor. Today they are helping hundreds of thousands of people in the D.C. area. The lesson: Not everything has to be planned out in advance or start on a large scale; offer love when you can, as you can and trust the Holy Spirit to do something with it. 

These simple lessons are probably not new to many of us, but they are often forgotten in our daily activities or the rush of life, but they are profound and powerful. 2 Corinthians 5 also says that “we are ambassadors for Christ” in our lives and simple lessons like these give power to that work. 

Standing in the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“I’m an apostrophe. I’m just a symbol to remind you that there’s more to see.” -Imagine Dragons, “Whatever It Takes”

Farming, Faith, Persistence, and Hope

"[Jesus] also said, ‘The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.'" -Mark 4:26-27

“We can do no great things — only small things with great love.” -Mother Teresa

I've been thinking a lot recently about what it means to be a Christian in our daily lives. How do we live in a chaotic world where so much seems to be out of our control?

So I was struck by the passage from Mark when I read it recently. Though the farmer scatters seed and tends the earth, there is still a mystery to growth. But she trusts that if she waters and cares for the field, there will be growth. There is no one grand gesture that creates growth, but sustained, patient, repeated attention to the seeds.

Jesus says that God's kingdom of grace and love acts in the same way. There is a mystery to the actions of God in this world that we cannot fully understand; we can simply trust that adding our labor will assist in the growth of new life. 

We are like farmers, tending the earth, sowing the seed, but not knowing exactly how it works, nor knowing which seeds will sprout and grow, but trusting that if we continue to seed the world with justice, tend the earth with love, and water it with generosity, a harvest of grace will come forth. 

Patience and persistence in small acts of love may not be sexy or exciting, but they are the tools of God's conquest.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“Faith and guts to guide you; wander ‘til you find you.” -Jars of Clay, “Inland”

What I Learned at the Grand Canyon

Last month, I found myself standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon for the first time in my life. And it taught me something about Christian stewardship.

For vacation this year, my family took an epic road trip through the Southwest that included this amazing natural wonder. It's hard to overstate the enormity of the canyon. I frequently felt as though my eyes were playing tricks on me because my brain couldn't process the scale of what was in front of me.

On my last day there, I stood looking at the canyon and reflecting on the history of turning this area into a national park. As I looked at the billions of years of history laid out in front of me, it struck me that the very idea of anyone "owning" something like this was comical. It's been at work for so much longer than any one human life (or even all human life) that to think it can be controlled is silly. All we can do is to appreciate it, protect it for the sake of all people, and pass it along to the next generation.

It was in that moment that I found a new appreciation for the Christian concept of stewardship.

Stewardship is a common word in churches, and it often gets used to mean "give money so we can pay the bills." This is not what we are meant to think, however.

Classically, the "steward" was a servant tasked with overseeing the house of a master. The steward didn't own the house or goods, but was responsible for caring for and preserving the house and goods. For Christians, we start from the assumption that "the earth is the Lord's and all that is in it" (Psalm 24:1). Everything we own, even our talents, passions, and opportunities, are all from God. We don't own them, but are tasked with caring for and using them in ways that align with the Master's vision.

It can be easy to be distracted by thinking about what we own, what we want, or what we "deserve." We can be motivated, stressed, or obsessed by these thoughts. But as I looked out at the Grand Canyon, I was aware of how small I am in the great scheme of the world. Compared to the history of God and the earth, the thought of "owning" my home, my salary, and my talents seems just as laughable as owning the Grand Canyon. I've been entrusted these things for a while, but they will pass to others at some point. Will I hoard them temporarily or steward them on behalf of their true owner? Like the Grand Canyon, all I can really do is appreciate it, steward it for the sake of all people, and pass it along to the next generation.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“In a world where what we want is only what we want until it’s ours.” -Train, “Calling All Angels”

Do Churches Get in the Way of Worshipping God?

The Old Testament reading for this past Sunday at my church is one of the key passages for understanding the whole Bible.

In 2 Samuel 7, King David decides that it's unfair for him to have a palace to live in when the Ark of the Covenant (which represents the presence of God) is housed in a tent and he sets his mind to build God a temple in which to live. But then God speaks through Nathan the prophet and tells David, "I don't need a house to live in. You won't build me a house, but I will build you a house." (By the way, this lesson is the Semi-continuous OT reading from the Revised Common Lectionary for you liturgy nerds.)

By saying this, God establishes David's line as the royal line for eternity. This helps seal David as one of the great heroes of the Old Testament and help legitimate the ministry of Jesus years later because he comes from "the line of David." It's powerful, awesome, God-is-generous stuff.

But just last week I was made aware that there is something more than God's kindness at work in this passage. One of the commentators in the sermon podcast I listen to mentioned that there is also a 2nd Commandment issue at play here.

For those who don't have the Ten Commandments memorized, the second commandment is "You shall make no idols or graven images." It's purpose is to remind God's people that we only worship God, not anyone or anything else.

So what do idols have to do with building a temple? The suggestion in the commentary was that God's concern was that building a temple would lead people to worship the temple instead of God, or to believe that God lives exclusively in the temple, therefore limiting their understanding of the true God (who is a bit bigger than any one building).

This made me think immediately of modern church buildings. Most congregations in North America own a building in which they worship. And with buildings comes responsibilities and maintenance. Utilities and maintenance are a large part of many church budgets. The Property Committee is often a mandatory (and sometimes powerful) presence in the congregation. Maintaining a building takes a lot of time and energy.

At the same time, many, many congregations in North America are shrinking, making maintaining buildings (especially older ones) harder to do. Many congregations make hard-fought efforts to keep their buildings working. And most of that is admirable, but after thinking about 2 Samuel 7, I also wonder: how much of that effort is for the sake of God and how much is for the sake of the building?

Because I have met people who talk about their love for their church, how long they've been there and say something like, "I can't imagine having to go to another church." As if they would have trouble finding God outside of that building? God didn't live in one building in the time of David and God doesn't do that now. And neither does the Church that bears Christ's name. I remember learning in Sunday school: church isn't a building, it's the people.

Let me be clear that I love church buildings. I don't think churches should abandon buildings. And I love architecture. A well-designed building can help point us to God.

But they cannot be God.

And that's the point and the concern of 2 Samuel 7. There are many wonderful things -- buildings, traditions, rituals -- that serve to point us toward God, but that's not the same thing as being God. If we make those sacred things equal to God, or become convinced they are the only way to know or see God, then we are breaking the second commandment. If my faith is dependent on a building, or a pastor or teacher, or a specific type of music, then what is my faith actually in?

The temple was later built by David's son, Solomon. Years later, it was destroyed. Then it was rebuilt. And it was destroyed. Since 70 CE, there has been no one temple in Jerusalem. But God hasn't disappeared. God was still active during the Exile between the two temples and has been since. We lost a great building of worship -- twice -- but it failed to kill God or the church.

Sometimes it helps me to be reminded that we can lose an awful lot without ever losing God's promises.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon Your grief.” -Jars of Clay, “O My God”

Big Insights from Living Small: A Reflection on the Film "Tiny"

Tonight I took advantage of some free time to watch a documentary called "Tiny." The film follows a 30 year old on his quest to build a tiny house under 200 square feet and profiles several people (including couples and a family) who have built and moved into similar-sized homes. (If you're interested, it's currently streaming on Netflix.)

I've mentioned before that I'm interested in the concept of design and I've been fascinated with the way design intersects with architecture and living spaces in particular to create spaces that can be simple, beautiful and functional. Therefore, I tossed this movie into my Netflix queue as soon as I discovered it. (Have I mentioned that I also love documentaries?)

As I was watching the documentary, however, I was surprised by the comments made by the people who had moved into tiny homes. Time and again, they made comments about how happy they were living in a small space. One man talked about the freedom it gave him because he didn't need to spend so much time and money cleaning and doing maintenance on his house. Others talked about how the small space focused them into deciding what was really important for them. (Some had moved into tiny homes after the Great Recession led them to lose much of what they had or reevaluate what they wanted from life.)

And then one woman in Olympia, Washington, made a comment that really brought out the spiritual theme that was running (unintentionally?) through the whole movie when she said that our culture doesn't give us many opportunities to practice humility and gratitude, but building a tiny house from scratch did. She had to learn to ask for help in building and to live with less, which made her more aware of what she did have.

Humility? Gratitude? Freedom? Is this a documentary on architecture or spirituality?

Our culture is built largely upon consumption and collection. The more we own/possess/control, the more successful and enviable we are perceived to be. Many of us shake our heads at this fact, but we all participate in it in some way.

Watching the movie made me think back to my first tiny apartment and how I thought if I just had a second bedroom I'd be happy. My second apartment had two bedrooms and I wished I had a dishwasher. My third apartment had a dishwasher and I wished it had a laundry room. And so on.

I like to believe that I live fairly simply, but I was amazed at the joy and satisfaction demonstrated by these people who had given up much of what my younger self thought would make my life perfect precisely because they'd given them up.

As I watched "Tiny," I couldn't help but think of a quote attributed to St. Augustine: "From what you own, set aside what you need to survive. The rest belongs to God." As I watched these people happily live in 200 square feet, it made me question exactly what it is I "need to survive." I can sit in my living room and see more things than I'd like to admit that I don't use, need, or even want any more. And if humility, gratitude, and joy (as expressed by these tiny home owners) are indeed spiritual fruits, then does having less space to live paradoxically make more space for God?

“If I die before I learn to speak, can money pay for all the days I lived awake but half asleep?” -Primitive Radio Gods, “Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in my Hand”