Getting Uncomfortable Can Be Good

Last Christmas, my family had the opportunity to join in a tradition outside our own experience. My daughter is in a dual-language program at her school that combines students who are native speakers of both Spanish and English so they can learn from and with each other. One of her friend's family is from Mexico and they invited us to come to their Las Posadas celebration.

Las Posadas is a religious tradition for Mexican Catholics recalling the pilgrimage of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem and their search for housing along the way. That's about all I knew when we arrived at their house for the celebration and crammed into their crowded living room. We were handed a sheet of paper full of Spanish songs and prayers and without much warning the event began. Various people took the lead with songs and prayers, a young girl and boy dressed as Mary and Joseph moved around the room at certain times, my wife and daughter jumped in easily as they are both fluent in Spanish, and it was clear that for everyone outside my family, the happenings were familiar and meaningful.

But I was lost.

I know enough Spanish to mumble my way through something written on the page and I felt honored to have been invited to what was clearly an important family event, but I spent most of the evening confused, and maybe even uncomfortable.

Finding Unity in Division

This past weekend, the Greater Milwaukee Synod, which is the regional body of my denomination, met for our annual assembly in Kenosha, Wisconsin. Unlike some years, we had a full agenda of business for the three days of the assembly, including electing a new bishop and reviewing six resolutions or policy statements.

On Friday, we spent a significant portion of the day debating one resolution in particular that proposed support of #BlackLivesMatter and their ten-point plan for improving community policing. It was a long and difficult conversation about how best to respond to the issue of racism in our country and how to be a public voice of Christ's gospel on this issue. Do we support the #BlackLivesMatter movement or craft our own statement? How do we word the resolution to be most effective? Should we amend the statement and if so how? How do we honor the voices of police officers and civic leaders who are anti-racism but don't agree with everything in the ten-point plan?

Over the course of three sessions, conversation was often emotional and personal, sometimes tense and uncomfortable. There were strong opinions on all sides and some visible frustration, as well. Finally, around 9:30 at night, discussion ended with the assembly voting to pass the statement. There was still clear layers of tension and exhaustion in the room as we stood to end our session with song and prayer.

But then a beautiful thing happened. As we began singing "Precious Lord, Take My Hand," without anyone prompting us, the entire assembly joined hands and as one body we sang: I am tired, I am weak, I am worn. Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light. Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me home.

I was brought to tears by that moment. Despite the fact that we had been arguing and disagreeing just minutes before, here we were, joined together as one body. In an age where we so often act and speak as though we cannot associate or respect people who have different ideas on politics or economics, here the Body of Christ was showing the opposite. In spite of our differences, at the end of the day we were not simply individuals with opinions, but, as our Presiding Bishop likes to say, we are church; we are church together. 

Even when we disagree on issues like BlackLivesMatter, the unified message that we are church together is a powerful one to share.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“This is the worthwhile fight.” -Taylor Swift, “State of Grace”

Amateurs Welcome

“This life, therefore, is not godliness but the process of becoming godly, not health but getting well, not being but becoming, not rest but exercise. We are not now what we shall be, but we are on the way. The process is not yet finished, but it is actively going on. This is not the goal but it is the right road. At present, everything does not gleam and sparkle, but everything is being cleansed.” -Martin Luther

The quote above is one of my favorites by Martin Luther and lately I’ve been thinking it’s an important one for the church today. I attended a mini-conference in April on adult education and one of the key points we discussed is that church leaders have allowed a terrible lie to persist in our churches, a lie that is undermining the health of our congregations.

That lie is what I’ll call the non-curious adult expert. What I mean by it is this: somehow most of us seem to get the idea that as Christian adults we should already know everything about our faith and aren’t much interested in going deeper with it. It’s assumed that everyone knows the major themes and characters in the Bible, can give a thumbnail sketch of Luther’s theology, and have a solid understanding of who they are in relation to God.

That is true for some, but when we assume it’s true for all, then we design classes that never touch on some of these broader themes, we create environments where questions aren’t asked because people feel they should already know the answers, and we discourage people from participating because they feel learning at church is only for kids. The lie contributes to widespread imposter syndrome in churches, which is the belief that “I don’t belong here because everyone else is an expert/knows what they’re doing/gets it and I’m going to be found out as a fraud.” 

This is why this quote from Luther is so important for us today. It points to the fact that none of us are done learning or growing. Just as we would never think of a person as being fully matured or fully educated when they finish middle school, the same is true for our spiritual lives.

I have read the Bible front to back multiple times and spent four years getting a Master’s degree in this stuff and I am still surprised at the things that I learn and come to understand in new ways as I continue on the way to “what we shall be,” as Luther put it.  As we’ve read lessons from Acts in the season of Easter this year, I’ve been reminded that the disciples themselves continue to learn and grow through the book, coming to deeper understandings of God.

The church has never been a collection of experts, but a group of God’s people learning and growing together. It should be thought of like a YMCA or gym membership; I don’t go to the Y because I have perfect health, but so that my health may continue to improve and though there may be people more fit than I am, we are all striving toward the same goal of greater health. In the church, we are all striving towards the same goal of growing in our relationship to God and helping others to do the same. 

Our baptism is a life-long process, not a one-time event. So we need to strive to create a culture in which questions and curiosity are normal, where learning and growth is expected, and where we embrace our amateur status as we work out our faith for the long haul.

In God’s Amazing Grace,

Pastor Ari

(This article first appeared in my church's summer 2016 newsletter.)

“Don’t forget to bring encouragement. Yeah, we’re all just beginners.” -Bill Mallonee, “Bank”

Habits We Are Proud to Have

Over the years, I've made many pastoral visits with people who have advanced dementia or Alzheimers. Most of them are largely unaware of what's going on around them and many struggle to communicate at all. However, there have been several occasions when as soon as I start speaking the Lord's prayer, the person will begin speaking along with me. It's clear that the language is so familiar that they know it even if they can't communicate on a conscious level.

Their example makes me think about my own habitual actions. I can make coffee in the morning when I'm half-asleep (thank goodness). I buckle my seatbelt every time I get in a car without thinking about it. These habits start as conscious actions, but repeated often enough become muscle memory (literal or figurative).

Any action repeated often enough can become a mindless habit...good or bad. You see, I also drive pretty aggressively because years of driving in Philadelphia turned that into a habit. (Good thing I buckle that seatbelt.) I'm not sure that's a habit I want.

Are the actions I'm taking now going to build habits that reflect the fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) or will they show impatience, frustration, or apathy?

What actions are you practicing repeatedly? Are they the kind you want to be habits? Are they the kind you want people to remember when are to old to remember yourself?

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari


"This is your life. Are you who you want to be?" -Switchfoot, "This is Your Life"

Opening Our Eyes to the Well

“The angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, ‘What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard the boy crying as he lies there.’ Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. So she went and filled the skin with water and gave the boy a drink.” (Genesis 21: 17, 19)

I am part of a monthly coaching group with four other pastors. The first week of every month, we join a conference call and share encouragements, insights, and ideas for strengthening ourselves and our ministries. In one of our sessions, we were asked to share a Bible passage that was important to our ministry. Several “classic” texts were mentioned before one of the pastors named the story of Hagar as her favorite.

Now, Hagar is kind of a sad story and certainly not one I’d ever considered for inspirational material. Hagar is a servant woman who is used by Abraham so he can father a child, Ishmael. Later on, after Sarah gives birth to Isaac, Hagar and Ishmael are cast off to fend for themselves in the desert. After running out of water, Ishmael is on the verge of death and Hagar cries out in sadness for her son. 

Like I said, it’s a sad story, but it’s this point in the story that my colleague named as the meaningful one for her. When Hagar cries, God hears her and then “opened her eyes and she saw a well of water” (Genesis 21:19). “The miracle,” my colleague said, “wasn’t that God created a source of water, it was that God opened Hagar’s eyes to the well that was already there.”

There are many desert places that we will confront in ministry and in our lives. It’s easy to want a miracle to get us out of those places, but big, flashy miracles are rare. Perhaps the miracles we should be looking for are like Hagar’s, where God opens our eyes to something that was already in front of us. 

I know I’ve experienced this recently as I was confronting a desert time in my life. I was overwhelmed with worry and stress and looking for a magic bullet. I didn’t find that magic bullet, but I was amazed to find the resources I had in friends and acquaintances who provided advice, references, and wisdom from their own experience. 

There are always challenges that will arise in ministry and life. As we confront them, may God open our eyes to the wells of hope that may be around us. 

In God’s Amazing Grace,

Pastor Ari

“Carry me; your love is wider than my need could ever be.” -Jars of Clay, "River Constantine"

(Note: This article first appeared in my church's newsletter.)

Taking Time

Soundbites are fast. Sharing stories takes time.

Certainty is convenient. Nuance takes time.

Apathy is easy. Curiosity takes time.

Being outraged is simple. Working for positive change (maybe in yourself?) takes time.

Telling makes others listen to you. Conversing requires listening and thinking... and takes time.

All the things on the left tend to build walls. The things on the right tend to build relationships.

Today I'm thinking that Christmas means God took the time (nine months, then thirty years, then three days) to build a new kind of relationship with us. What do I want to build with my time?

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“Can't stop the spirits when they need you. This life is more than just a read through.” -Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Can't Stop"

The Bible Says Hospitality Means What?

What is hospitality?

Usually I think about hospitality as preparing a meal for my friends or (ugh) cleaning my home before company arrives. There are other thoughts that come to mind, but most of them involve sharing a common space with people I know and love.

This morning, though, I stumbled across a fact that made me rethink what hospitality should be.

The Bible talks an awful lot about hospitality, not always directly, but certainly in terms of loving each other and following the Golden Rule. There are many scenes of dinners and gatherings with guests in both testaments. Hospitality was a huge deal in the ancient Near East and poor hospitality could lead to condemnation and death.

What's fascinating is that the Greek word for hospitality, the word used in the New Testament, is philoxenia, which literally means "love of the stranger." In other words, hospitality isn't just welcoming people we already know and like, it's expecting and making space for the stranger, the other.

It is the hospitality shown when Abraham warmly greets three strangers wandering through the desert and is blessed because of it. It is the hospitality shown in the Parable of the Good Samaritan, where a religious minority stops to care for a wounded man who belongs to a group that has avoided and shunned the Samaritans.

As I pondered the root of this Greek word, it struck me just how far from this idea we often are. Rather than loving strangers, we are encouraged to fear them. Our 24-hour news cycle especially loves to bombard us with stories that are filled with scary words and images. "This person/thing hurt/poisoned/stole from someone like you! Beware!" Politicians love to throw around the idea that the other side will destroy the world if given the chance. The overall message we are fed is that anyone who has a different religion, political opinion, sexuality, age, class, or education probably shouldn't be trusted and certainly not shown hospitality (at least not a hospitality that looks like "loving a stranger").

Certainly there are reasons and times to be cautious and act wisely, but I think there is a great difference between a posture that assumes anyone that's different is likely a threat and one that assumes most people are decent and worthy of respect.

Interestingly, Jesus came as a stranger into this world, unrecognizable as God because of how he was born and where he lived. John's gospel makes note of this and that most people "did not receive him." Jesus the stranger didn't find hospitality. But those who did welcome him became "children of God." In a sense, Christianity is based entirely on hospitality: on God's willingness to love us who are estranged and our willingness to love the strange God who shows up in a manger and dies on a cross.

And then we are asked to share that same hospitality with others on earth.

In this season, many of us are preparing to practice hospitality in our homes or to be received by the hospitality of others. Perhaps this Christmas season we can pause and consider what stranger we might welcome to our tables... and our hearts. Then the angels' proclamation of "Peace on earth! Goodwill to men!" might ring a little louder and richer.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“If we can reach beyond the wisdom of this age into the foolishness of God, that foolishness will save.” -Rich Mullins, "Let Mercy Lead"