As a pastor and spiritual leader, I have spent a great deal of my life caring for others and urging those in my flock to care for others as well. The mandate to be our brothers' and sisters' keepers is clear in all of the world's great religions, and I've gotten pretty good at fulfilling this greatest commandment.
But in the ten days since my fall and since being on these dreadful crutches, lugging around my 80 pound casted leg, I have been on the receiving end of the care of others, and I'm no bloody good at that. I have no idea why it is so difficult, so uncomfortable for me to receive the kindness of others. Last Thursday, my brothers and sisters in the Living Vision Community canceled our regular gathering and devoted the entire two hours to helping me move out of the family cottage in Bay View and into my new apartment in Petoskey. They showed up with a meal, boxes, and bags and started packing and transporting my stuff to my second floor apartment on Sheridan Street.
I couldn't help them! I couldn't pitch in. About the only thing I could do was tell them what to do, which was even worse given that I, myself, could do nothing. They were all smiles, even the couple who stayed behind at the cottage after the last box had left, scrubbing out the filthy refrigerator before defrosting it, something I didn't have the heart to ask anyone to do. They just did it.
Then today, I open up my mail and find three checks from people I hardly know, folks from a church in Chicago where I preach every now and then. They had heard of my accident and that I have no health insurance..."We just wanted to help," their cards said. I squirmed with an awkward discomfort. Is it humility?...Being out of control?... Some sort of pride that is making me resist all this unmerited goodness?
In the end, I don't know. And maybe it doesn't even matter. I am humbled by all this goodness that has come my way. I am grateful to have such people in my life. And I am inspired to join forces with them the next time somebody crosses my path in need.
Thank you! Thank you SO much!
Tuesday
Sunday
Today - a very special day 10/10/10
A new and very dear friend pointed out to me that today was 10/10/10, an oddity in our calendar that none of us will live to see again. Certainly such a numeric convergence makes today rare and special, but in a deeper, more profound sense, isn’t each day equally rare, beautiful, and filled with the stuff of gift, regardless of how the numbers come out?
Our Buddhist brothers and sisters teach us that the present moment is all there ever is, that yesterday is gone and tomorrow never comes – or, by the time it does, it’s today, part of the unfolding now.
There’s nothing quite like a sudden accident or illness to shock us into the power of now. On Friday of this past week, I was up and down ladders at a job site, riding my bike to the grocery store, and taking my thrice-weekly, 3-mile run in the Bay View woods. But on Friday night, moments after lying on my back with Eloise, gazing at the stars and the planet Venus, I took a freak and inexplicable fall that snapped my fibula and shattered my ankle. As I sit writing this blog, my right leg is elevated in front of me, covered in a cast that runs from my thigh to my toes. It will be well into 2011 before I am able to walk, climb a ladder, or even take a shower again.
The now in which I reside is a much slower paced one than I inhabited just two short days ago. Getting dressed takes an almost Herculean effort, not to mention the skills of a contortionist. The only way I can get up or down stairs is on my butt, one step at a time ... one step at a time.
My all-too-Western mind has wanted to focus on what a huge bummer this new reality is going to be, on all the terrific things I’m going to have to miss because of this stupid fall, and how much time I’m going to waste, as the simple, everyday things that used to take seconds now take minutes or even hours. But what is the value of such evaluative and judgmental thinking? It neither hastens the healing process nor fosters an environment in which I may benefit from my new reality.
Buddhists believe that one of the central and most crucial spiritual practices is non-resistance, a mindfulness that trusts in the flow of life, an attitude that each and every now has within it exactly what we need for heightened consciousness. The call that I have received in the form of this fall is to accept rather than to resist, to look toward it expectantly rather than away from it at what might have been. Jesus put it this way: “Which of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?” “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
Our Buddhist brothers and sisters teach us that the present moment is all there ever is, that yesterday is gone and tomorrow never comes – or, by the time it does, it’s today, part of the unfolding now.
There’s nothing quite like a sudden accident or illness to shock us into the power of now. On Friday of this past week, I was up and down ladders at a job site, riding my bike to the grocery store, and taking my thrice-weekly, 3-mile run in the Bay View woods. But on Friday night, moments after lying on my back with Eloise, gazing at the stars and the planet Venus, I took a freak and inexplicable fall that snapped my fibula and shattered my ankle. As I sit writing this blog, my right leg is elevated in front of me, covered in a cast that runs from my thigh to my toes. It will be well into 2011 before I am able to walk, climb a ladder, or even take a shower again.
The now in which I reside is a much slower paced one than I inhabited just two short days ago. Getting dressed takes an almost Herculean effort, not to mention the skills of a contortionist. The only way I can get up or down stairs is on my butt, one step at a time ... one step at a time.
My all-too-Western mind has wanted to focus on what a huge bummer this new reality is going to be, on all the terrific things I’m going to have to miss because of this stupid fall, and how much time I’m going to waste, as the simple, everyday things that used to take seconds now take minutes or even hours. But what is the value of such evaluative and judgmental thinking? It neither hastens the healing process nor fosters an environment in which I may benefit from my new reality.
Buddhists believe that one of the central and most crucial spiritual practices is non-resistance, a mindfulness that trusts in the flow of life, an attitude that each and every now has within it exactly what we need for heightened consciousness. The call that I have received in the form of this fall is to accept rather than to resist, to look toward it expectantly rather than away from it at what might have been. Jesus put it this way: “Which of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?” “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
Another reason never to judge others or limit our hospitality
A little background first…I have a dog, a wonderful 12-and-a-half year-old Yellow lab/Golden Retriever mix for whom I have to find a new home. The only apartments I can afford don’t allow dogs.
So I’m at my gig last night, sitting at The Noggin Room bar during a break. I notice a dark figure at the far corner of the bar, cloaked both by the shadows and his dark clothing including a wide brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. He had piercings all over the place and tatoos to boot. No one was sitting near him, and I witnessed several patrons start to sit in the empty seats next to him but then think the better of it once they got a look at this character.
I was conversing with a nice, well-dressed couple sitting next to me. At some point they mentioned their dog, and I shared my predicament with them. They soon departed and I headed back to the stage to tune up for my next set. Getting there, I realized I needed another water for the set and returned to the bar to get Dean to fill me up. I went to the space next to the man in the shadows to order. He looked at me and smiled, and I said, “Hi.” I was not prepared for what happened next…
He said, “I was just on the phone with my grandpa. I don’t mean to be nosey, but I overheard you talking about your dog. My grandpa is alone, and his dog died a few months ago. I thought he might be interested in a companion. I’m also going to check with my mom, who loves dogs and lives on a farm.”
“Wow…really? That’s amazing.”
So I’m at my gig last night, sitting at The Noggin Room bar during a break. I notice a dark figure at the far corner of the bar, cloaked both by the shadows and his dark clothing including a wide brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. He had piercings all over the place and tatoos to boot. No one was sitting near him, and I witnessed several patrons start to sit in the empty seats next to him but then think the better of it once they got a look at this character.
I was conversing with a nice, well-dressed couple sitting next to me. At some point they mentioned their dog, and I shared my predicament with them. They soon departed and I headed back to the stage to tune up for my next set. Getting there, I realized I needed another water for the set and returned to the bar to get Dean to fill me up. I went to the space next to the man in the shadows to order. He looked at me and smiled, and I said, “Hi.” I was not prepared for what happened next…
He said, “I was just on the phone with my grandpa. I don’t mean to be nosey, but I overheard you talking about your dog. My grandpa is alone, and his dog died a few months ago. I thought he might be interested in a companion. I’m also going to check with my mom, who loves dogs and lives on a farm.”
“Wow…really? That’s amazing.”
Thursday
The Jesus Question - 9/23/10 – by Toby Jones
One of the toughest questions our emerging Living Vision community has had to wrestle with is the Jesus question – who is he? How do we articulate and convey who we believe Jesus to be? And can our faithful expression of and following of Jesus make room for people of other faiths or of no faith at all? Or is following Jesus tantamount to saying all other faiths are somehow wrong, false, or misguided? Is the only way we can ultimately relate to non-Christians be with the intent to convert them?
It is not surprising to me that it is this Christological question that already threatens to split our tiny fledgling community. America and the larger world is chock full of Christians whose battle cry is “Jesus is the ONLY way…No one comes to the Father but through Him…Jesus didn’t say he was ‘a way;’ he said he was ‘THE way!’” I have spent the majority of my life with this very kind of Christ follower. I have been a part of many church and para-church communities who have espoused this highly exclusivist theology. As a seminary graduate, I am also intimately familiar with the many New Testament passages used to substantiate this notion of Christianity as the superior and only “true” religion.
And it is, at least in part, because of my long history with exclusivist Christianity that I want our Living Vision community to offer the world something different. I know what happens to relationships, to conversations, and to all forms of service when they are undertaken by people who assume their way is the only way. As a dedicated follower of Jesus, I have been repeatedly embarrassed and even ashamed when members of my faith communities have - however unintentionally - presumed a spiritual superiority over others. I have felt a palpable dissonance between what my fellow Christians have said/done and the Jesus I have come to know and love through the scriptures. I simply cannot imagine Jesus - the one who came not to be served but to serve - “lording it over” others the way so many of his followers do. I envision Jesus being extremely respectful of and open to other religious expressions, much the way Mahatma Gandhi was when a reporter asked him if he was trying to convert the whole world to Hinduism. Gandhi responded, “No! I want to help Hindus become better Hindus, Muslims to be better Muslims, Christians to be better Christians, and Jews to be better Jews.” I want my spiritual community to be like that. Gandhi was deeply informed about and respectful of the way of Jesus. I see no reason that Jesus and his followers should be any different toward our human brothers and sisters of other faiths.
Christians have an unfortunate history of wielding scripture – particularly out of context scripture – as a bullying club. How many times have Christians quoted John 10:7-9 to “prove” Christianity’s exclusive truth claim, a passage in which Jesus says, “I am the door of the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers…I am the door; if any one enters by me, he will be saved…” And yet why aren’t we Christians equally familiar with and respectful of Jesus’ own words a mere seven verses later, when he said: “And I have other sheep, that are not of this fold; I must bring them along also”? Or why aren’t exclusivist Christians very familiar with Jesus’ parable of the weeds in Matthew 13? In this story a farmer sows good wheat seed in his field but is soon told by his servants that some weeds have grown up alongside the wheat. His servants impatiently and judgmentally seek permission to go yank up the unwanted weeds. But the master says, “No, for if you gather the weeds you might root up the wheat along with them. Let both grow together until the harvest.” Or when was the last time you heard a sermon on Mark 9:38-41, which recounts the unnerved disciples tattling to Jesus about some other people who were casting out demons in Jesus’ name but were not part of The Way? The disciples expected Jesus to be threatened, to claim some sort of monopoly on healing. But Jesus says, “Do not forbid them…For he that is not against us is for us.”
As a former pastor, I am painfully aware that both sides of any theological argument can use scripture to substantiate their view. But ultimately such an exercise is fruitless and far more damaging than edifying to all involved. I have only resorted to offering the above verses to illustrate how selective and one-sided we Christians have been and continue to be in our use of holy writ. When all is said and done, the place on which I hang my hat is the person and work of Jesus. What did he DO? How did he treat people? Were the things he did and the instructions he gave in the service of some religion or belief system? Or was he in touch and concerned with a deeper Truth or Truths, ones that superseded the tight boxes of any particular religion, including the one that was ultimately named after him? How many of us have had the experience of seeing and knowing a non-Christian who is more Christlike than we are? (see my blog entry on Chip Duncan, “An Unwitting Disciple”)
In addition to my desire to follow Jesus, I am committed to Living Vision’s experiment in spiritual community because of my deep conviction that everyone – EVERYONE – is a child of God, created in God’s own image. It isn’t only espoused followers of Jesus who are created in the image of God. There is no way that the God made known in Jesus could or would condemn people simply for being born into a non-Christian culture or family. And let’s be honest: isn’t 99.9% of the reason any of us are Christians because of where and to whom we were born? I want to be a part of a community of Christ followers who truly believes and lives as though everyone on the planet is a child of God. Period.
Who knows what Jesus had in mind when he said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but by me”? I believe that what Jesus was saying was that our task in this life is to live like him – to walk according to his “way” - and to leave all gate-keeping questions to him. He wanted us to understand that there are limits to what we humans are to concern ourselves with. And if making conjectures about where other people are going to spend eternity isn’t one such forbidden place for us, I can’t imagine what is!
There is nothing experimental about forming a spiritual community around certain commonly held beliefs – such as Jesus being the son of God, the Savior, the Messiah, the only way to God. I have seen and the world has seen where such communities end up. What I long to see is a spiritual community that is willing to risk diversity of belief in order to live in the way of Jesus. Anyone interested in being a part of such an experiment is urged to join us each and every Thursday night from 6-8:00pm for our open community dinner and discussions. For more information just email me at tobyjones48@gmail.com
It is not surprising to me that it is this Christological question that already threatens to split our tiny fledgling community. America and the larger world is chock full of Christians whose battle cry is “Jesus is the ONLY way…No one comes to the Father but through Him…Jesus didn’t say he was ‘a way;’ he said he was ‘THE way!’” I have spent the majority of my life with this very kind of Christ follower. I have been a part of many church and para-church communities who have espoused this highly exclusivist theology. As a seminary graduate, I am also intimately familiar with the many New Testament passages used to substantiate this notion of Christianity as the superior and only “true” religion.
And it is, at least in part, because of my long history with exclusivist Christianity that I want our Living Vision community to offer the world something different. I know what happens to relationships, to conversations, and to all forms of service when they are undertaken by people who assume their way is the only way. As a dedicated follower of Jesus, I have been repeatedly embarrassed and even ashamed when members of my faith communities have - however unintentionally - presumed a spiritual superiority over others. I have felt a palpable dissonance between what my fellow Christians have said/done and the Jesus I have come to know and love through the scriptures. I simply cannot imagine Jesus - the one who came not to be served but to serve - “lording it over” others the way so many of his followers do. I envision Jesus being extremely respectful of and open to other religious expressions, much the way Mahatma Gandhi was when a reporter asked him if he was trying to convert the whole world to Hinduism. Gandhi responded, “No! I want to help Hindus become better Hindus, Muslims to be better Muslims, Christians to be better Christians, and Jews to be better Jews.” I want my spiritual community to be like that. Gandhi was deeply informed about and respectful of the way of Jesus. I see no reason that Jesus and his followers should be any different toward our human brothers and sisters of other faiths.
Christians have an unfortunate history of wielding scripture – particularly out of context scripture – as a bullying club. How many times have Christians quoted John 10:7-9 to “prove” Christianity’s exclusive truth claim, a passage in which Jesus says, “I am the door of the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers…I am the door; if any one enters by me, he will be saved…” And yet why aren’t we Christians equally familiar with and respectful of Jesus’ own words a mere seven verses later, when he said: “And I have other sheep, that are not of this fold; I must bring them along also”? Or why aren’t exclusivist Christians very familiar with Jesus’ parable of the weeds in Matthew 13? In this story a farmer sows good wheat seed in his field but is soon told by his servants that some weeds have grown up alongside the wheat. His servants impatiently and judgmentally seek permission to go yank up the unwanted weeds. But the master says, “No, for if you gather the weeds you might root up the wheat along with them. Let both grow together until the harvest.” Or when was the last time you heard a sermon on Mark 9:38-41, which recounts the unnerved disciples tattling to Jesus about some other people who were casting out demons in Jesus’ name but were not part of The Way? The disciples expected Jesus to be threatened, to claim some sort of monopoly on healing. But Jesus says, “Do not forbid them…For he that is not against us is for us.”
As a former pastor, I am painfully aware that both sides of any theological argument can use scripture to substantiate their view. But ultimately such an exercise is fruitless and far more damaging than edifying to all involved. I have only resorted to offering the above verses to illustrate how selective and one-sided we Christians have been and continue to be in our use of holy writ. When all is said and done, the place on which I hang my hat is the person and work of Jesus. What did he DO? How did he treat people? Were the things he did and the instructions he gave in the service of some religion or belief system? Or was he in touch and concerned with a deeper Truth or Truths, ones that superseded the tight boxes of any particular religion, including the one that was ultimately named after him? How many of us have had the experience of seeing and knowing a non-Christian who is more Christlike than we are? (see my blog entry on Chip Duncan, “An Unwitting Disciple”)
In addition to my desire to follow Jesus, I am committed to Living Vision’s experiment in spiritual community because of my deep conviction that everyone – EVERYONE – is a child of God, created in God’s own image. It isn’t only espoused followers of Jesus who are created in the image of God. There is no way that the God made known in Jesus could or would condemn people simply for being born into a non-Christian culture or family. And let’s be honest: isn’t 99.9% of the reason any of us are Christians because of where and to whom we were born? I want to be a part of a community of Christ followers who truly believes and lives as though everyone on the planet is a child of God. Period.
Who knows what Jesus had in mind when he said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but by me”? I believe that what Jesus was saying was that our task in this life is to live like him – to walk according to his “way” - and to leave all gate-keeping questions to him. He wanted us to understand that there are limits to what we humans are to concern ourselves with. And if making conjectures about where other people are going to spend eternity isn’t one such forbidden place for us, I can’t imagine what is!
There is nothing experimental about forming a spiritual community around certain commonly held beliefs – such as Jesus being the son of God, the Savior, the Messiah, the only way to God. I have seen and the world has seen where such communities end up. What I long to see is a spiritual community that is willing to risk diversity of belief in order to live in the way of Jesus. Anyone interested in being a part of such an experiment is urged to join us each and every Thursday night from 6-8:00pm for our open community dinner and discussions. For more information just email me at tobyjones48@gmail.com
Sunday
What my new-found poverty has taught me so far…
First, let’s be clear about what I mean by poverty. When somewhere around 2/3rds of the world lives on literally 1-2 dollars a day, my current drop in income from about 50 k to about 20 k hardly qualifies me as poor. But, I don’t always know where my next check is coming from, which is probably why I have 3-4 part-time jobs.
But here are a few surprising things I’ve noticed about myself since I moved from a full time job with benefits to several low-paying endeavors…
1) I’m dog tired – It’s way more draining moving from job to job. It’s not just the added travel and time on the various jobs; it’s the stress of not knowing if you’re coming or going and still having to coordinate care for my child and care for my 78- year-old dad. I feel as though I’m in a constant state of fatigue. And while I’m a committed exerciser who knows full well the importance and benefits of staying fit, I’m far more likely to blow off the day’s workout after running from job to job.
2) I’m more sensitive – I find I can get a bit resentful when people who make five or even ten times as much as I do whine about their financial hardships. I know that, to some extent, everyone has got his/her share of problems. But when I hear my friends or even relatives moaning about not being able to take that trip to Cabo or the Mediterranean this year, I want to puke. For me the choice is whether or not to buy health insurance.
3) I spend more money on non-necessities – This one’s really got me scratching my bald head. I’ve always been extremely frugal…ok, downright cheap. But working much harder for a whole lot less money, I find that when payday comes, I’m more likely to go out for dinner or buy that cute new pair of shoes for my daughter than I ever was when I was making much more dough. I can remember criticizing those “undisciplined poor people” who would leave their manual labor jobs on Friday with a paycheck in their pocket and head straight to the bar on the way home to spend a healthy chunk of it, when they “should be saving.” As near as I can figure it, when I’m working as hard as I have to with three part time jobs and fighting the fatigue and even despair that comes with them, I feel that I “deserve” to treat myself…and, damn it, I do!
So life is teaching me some important lessons as I adjust to a very new way of life. I’m embracing where I am, even if I didn’t plan it quite the way it has worked out. Every day is an adventure, a lesson in both humility and perseverance, and I really wouldn’t trade places with anyone. Our Buddhist brothers and sisters tell us that life brings us exactly what we need to ascend to a higher consciousness. The task is to trust that process and receive each lesson as a gift. What else can we do?
But here are a few surprising things I’ve noticed about myself since I moved from a full time job with benefits to several low-paying endeavors…
1) I’m dog tired – It’s way more draining moving from job to job. It’s not just the added travel and time on the various jobs; it’s the stress of not knowing if you’re coming or going and still having to coordinate care for my child and care for my 78- year-old dad. I feel as though I’m in a constant state of fatigue. And while I’m a committed exerciser who knows full well the importance and benefits of staying fit, I’m far more likely to blow off the day’s workout after running from job to job.
2) I’m more sensitive – I find I can get a bit resentful when people who make five or even ten times as much as I do whine about their financial hardships. I know that, to some extent, everyone has got his/her share of problems. But when I hear my friends or even relatives moaning about not being able to take that trip to Cabo or the Mediterranean this year, I want to puke. For me the choice is whether or not to buy health insurance.
3) I spend more money on non-necessities – This one’s really got me scratching my bald head. I’ve always been extremely frugal…ok, downright cheap. But working much harder for a whole lot less money, I find that when payday comes, I’m more likely to go out for dinner or buy that cute new pair of shoes for my daughter than I ever was when I was making much more dough. I can remember criticizing those “undisciplined poor people” who would leave their manual labor jobs on Friday with a paycheck in their pocket and head straight to the bar on the way home to spend a healthy chunk of it, when they “should be saving.” As near as I can figure it, when I’m working as hard as I have to with three part time jobs and fighting the fatigue and even despair that comes with them, I feel that I “deserve” to treat myself…and, damn it, I do!
So life is teaching me some important lessons as I adjust to a very new way of life. I’m embracing where I am, even if I didn’t plan it quite the way it has worked out. Every day is an adventure, a lesson in both humility and perseverance, and I really wouldn’t trade places with anyone. Our Buddhist brothers and sisters tell us that life brings us exactly what we need to ascend to a higher consciousness. The task is to trust that process and receive each lesson as a gift. What else can we do?
On Love and Loss
I’ve gone through some pretty dark times this year, including a spell of the most brutal sadness that I’ve ever known - a debilitating, breath-defying brokenness.
When you lose a love, there’s so much else you lose along with it. Like music…you can’t listen to the radio or your i-pod when you lose your love, for every song cuts to the very quick. Something as simple as going to the movies or even to familiar places on the heels of lost love is only an invitation to even deeper despair.
During such a darkness, it seems that everyone you pass has to ask, “How are you?” And who can find the words with which to respond? As an English teacher, when I lack the words to express my deepest feelings, I often find myself turning to the world of literature . Though it just about killed me when I came upon these words for the first time at the end of Muriel Barbery’s masterpiece, The Elegance of the Hedgehog, I am eternally grateful that someone said what my heart hasn’t been able to utter.
The context is that one of the two main characters of the book, a very isolated, misunderstood, brilliant, suicidal teenager, loses a dear friend…
“For the first time in my life I understood the meaning of the word never. And it’s really awful. You say the word a hundred times a day but you don’t really know what you’re saying until you’re faced with a real “never again.” Ultimately you always have the illusion that you’re in control of what’s happening; nothing seems definitive…But when someone you love dies (or leaves for good)…well, I can tell you that you really feel what “never” means, and it really hurts. It’s like fireworks suddenly burning out in the sky and everything going black. I feel alone, and sick, and my heart aches and every moment seems to require a colossal effort.”
Too often we forget the real grief is physical - not emotional. True gut-wrenching loss creates nausea, shortness of breath, deep, constant, and inescapable pain, which is why when people try to comfort their grieving friends with words it never works. Words can't relieve physical pain.
But that being said, the next dark time I'm called upon to give words to how I'm doing, I’ll find a way to choke out these words from Muriel Barbery.
When you lose a love, there’s so much else you lose along with it. Like music…you can’t listen to the radio or your i-pod when you lose your love, for every song cuts to the very quick. Something as simple as going to the movies or even to familiar places on the heels of lost love is only an invitation to even deeper despair.
During such a darkness, it seems that everyone you pass has to ask, “How are you?” And who can find the words with which to respond? As an English teacher, when I lack the words to express my deepest feelings, I often find myself turning to the world of literature . Though it just about killed me when I came upon these words for the first time at the end of Muriel Barbery’s masterpiece, The Elegance of the Hedgehog, I am eternally grateful that someone said what my heart hasn’t been able to utter.
The context is that one of the two main characters of the book, a very isolated, misunderstood, brilliant, suicidal teenager, loses a dear friend…
“For the first time in my life I understood the meaning of the word never. And it’s really awful. You say the word a hundred times a day but you don’t really know what you’re saying until you’re faced with a real “never again.” Ultimately you always have the illusion that you’re in control of what’s happening; nothing seems definitive…But when someone you love dies (or leaves for good)…well, I can tell you that you really feel what “never” means, and it really hurts. It’s like fireworks suddenly burning out in the sky and everything going black. I feel alone, and sick, and my heart aches and every moment seems to require a colossal effort.”
Too often we forget the real grief is physical - not emotional. True gut-wrenching loss creates nausea, shortness of breath, deep, constant, and inescapable pain, which is why when people try to comfort their grieving friends with words it never works. Words can't relieve physical pain.
But that being said, the next dark time I'm called upon to give words to how I'm doing, I’ll find a way to choke out these words from Muriel Barbery.
Tuesday
O, For a Thousand Tongues to Sing...
“O for a thousand tongues to sing my great redeemer’s praise, the glories of my God and King, the wonders of his grace…” I’ve been singing this great Wesleyan hymn ever since I was able to read, some 43 years. I’m guessing that means I’ve sung it about 700 times. And for 699 of those times, I’d always just assumed that Charles Wesley longed for a thousand tongues so that he could sing praises to God a thousand times louder than he could with just his own solitary voice. I’d always assumed that Wesley wanted to be a part of a thousand voice choir, blasting out this song of adoration, so that God could hear it loud and clear, all the way up in the heavens.
But the 700th time I sang this classic hymn, over in Bay View earlier this summer, it occurred to me that Charles Wesley might have been after something other than volume with his “thousand tongues” idea.
What if what Wesley was yearning for was a thousand different ways to communicate and live the Gospel that he loved, the Gospel of Jesus Christ? What if Wesley had come to realize through his years as a revival preacher that there were people – thousands upon thousands of people – who would not and could not be moved toward faith through traditional means? What if Wesley knew what many of us who have left the Church have found out – that the creeds and formulas, the doctrines and beliefs, the structures and sermons of the Church will never be sufficient to convey the beautiful complexity of who Jesus is to an increasingly diverse and globally minded population.
Let me tell you about a friend of mine named Jim. He’s struggled mightily to overcome his addiction to substances. Over the years he’s tried various churches in search of spiritual community and support as he fights the monster of alcohol. But in churches, he’s found judgment, scorn, condescension, and the tired creeds of yesteryear. “A.A. is my church,” he tells me. I walk in there and everybody’s the same. We’re all drunks…We’re all recovering. There’s no pretense, no B.S. I feel Jesus’ presence in our little basement room more than I’ve ever felt it in your beautiful sanctuaries. We believe in life, in helping each other, in refraining from judgment, and in living one day at a time. And if that’s not the Gospel, I don’t know what is.”
A.A. and its language of a Higher Power, its practice of forgiveness – no matter how many times one stumbles - and its sense of authentic fellowship has been a form of the Gospel that Jim has embraced. It’s the Gospel in another of the thousand tongues.
Another buddy of mine named Byron volunteers three days a week at one of the largest soup kitchen’s in New York City. He grew up in the church, going every week from the time he was a little runt. But after he attended college and graduate school, he found that he couldn’t believe in so many of Christianity’s tenets – the virgin birth, the bodily resurrection, or the world being created in 6 days. Because all of those church doctrines had always been so closely associated with Jesus, once Bob’s belief in those doctrines faded, he felt he had to let go of Jesus too. “We’d stand up to say those confessions and creeds, and I noticed I couldn’t get those words out of my mouth – even though they were on the page right in front of me. I figured since all the other people in the pews were saying them so easily and without any hesitation, it must just be me who had the problem. So I left.”
But about twenty years later, Bob heard about a little Episcopal church in Chelsea that shared its building with a Jewish Temple congregation. Together, these two communities had started a feeding program that provides and serves over 1300 lunches to homeless people a day. And they serve these meals face-to-face, person-to-person in the church sanctuary! “When I heard about this, I thought of that place in the gospel where Jesus says ‘For I was hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and you gave me drink,’ and ‘when you did it to the least of these you did it unto me.’ When I signed up to volunteer, I asked if there was anything I had to believe in to be a part of this program. The lady chuckled and said, ‘Yeah…you’ve got to believe that hungry people ought to be fed.’ I’ve been a part of the soup kitchen community ever since.”
Bob needed to hear the gospel in a tongue that wasn’t so concerned with ancient creeds and confessions. He heard and was transformed by the tongue of the social gospel, the gospel of feeding the hungry with no questions asked, no strings attached. Bob needed to see the gospel in a place where, as Ian Lawton puts it “people put their humanity before their ideology. “
Last, I want to tell you about Janice. She’s a trip, very new-agey but with a broad and deep background in other religions, particularly Buddhism and Hinduism. She practices yoga and silent contemplation as well, believing that they are “portals to the Divine.” Janice has always loved and been drawn to Jesus. She just can’t accept the claim that Jesus is the “only way.” “There’s no way all these other ancient, beautiful, peaceful religious paths can just be dismissed, especially since they share so much with the teachings of Jesus…Jesus is bigger than Christianity,” Janice likes to say. “Christians don’t own Jesus. Jesus would refuse to let them.”
Janice is teaching me and some of the other folks in the community I’ve started about silence and contemplation, practices that have deep deep roots in Christianity as well as other Eastern religions. The tongue Janice needed to hear the Gospel in is a silent tongue, a tongue that holds itself so that the Spirit of God might speak.
To me, these three stories of my friends – Jim, Bob, and Janice - are Pentecost stories, stories about the importance of communicating the Gospel in as many tongues and as many languages and as many forms as we possibly can. Our story from Acts 2 shows us how committed God was to allowing the Gospel to take as many forms as was necessary for all people to hear it and experience it in a way that made sense to them.
My prayer, my dream is that when you hear about someone like me or someone like Janice, Bob, or Jim, who practices or understands Jesus a little differently than you do, that you won’t be angry or frightened, dismissive or judgmental. My hope is that you will remember Acts chapter 2, the Pentecost story, and the great Wesleyan hymn – “O for a thousand tongues to sing.” For the Jesus we’re seeking to follow is bigger than any of our minds. The Jesus we’re seeking to follow is not the sole property of Christians or the Christian Church. Jesus needs to be expressed in a thousand different ways, including some that we haven’t even conceived of yet. Let’s be thankful for those who are adding their tongues to the grand chorus that Charles Wesley longed for. Amen.
But the 700th time I sang this classic hymn, over in Bay View earlier this summer, it occurred to me that Charles Wesley might have been after something other than volume with his “thousand tongues” idea.
What if what Wesley was yearning for was a thousand different ways to communicate and live the Gospel that he loved, the Gospel of Jesus Christ? What if Wesley had come to realize through his years as a revival preacher that there were people – thousands upon thousands of people – who would not and could not be moved toward faith through traditional means? What if Wesley knew what many of us who have left the Church have found out – that the creeds and formulas, the doctrines and beliefs, the structures and sermons of the Church will never be sufficient to convey the beautiful complexity of who Jesus is to an increasingly diverse and globally minded population.
Let me tell you about a friend of mine named Jim. He’s struggled mightily to overcome his addiction to substances. Over the years he’s tried various churches in search of spiritual community and support as he fights the monster of alcohol. But in churches, he’s found judgment, scorn, condescension, and the tired creeds of yesteryear. “A.A. is my church,” he tells me. I walk in there and everybody’s the same. We’re all drunks…We’re all recovering. There’s no pretense, no B.S. I feel Jesus’ presence in our little basement room more than I’ve ever felt it in your beautiful sanctuaries. We believe in life, in helping each other, in refraining from judgment, and in living one day at a time. And if that’s not the Gospel, I don’t know what is.”
A.A. and its language of a Higher Power, its practice of forgiveness – no matter how many times one stumbles - and its sense of authentic fellowship has been a form of the Gospel that Jim has embraced. It’s the Gospel in another of the thousand tongues.
Another buddy of mine named Byron volunteers three days a week at one of the largest soup kitchen’s in New York City. He grew up in the church, going every week from the time he was a little runt. But after he attended college and graduate school, he found that he couldn’t believe in so many of Christianity’s tenets – the virgin birth, the bodily resurrection, or the world being created in 6 days. Because all of those church doctrines had always been so closely associated with Jesus, once Bob’s belief in those doctrines faded, he felt he had to let go of Jesus too. “We’d stand up to say those confessions and creeds, and I noticed I couldn’t get those words out of my mouth – even though they were on the page right in front of me. I figured since all the other people in the pews were saying them so easily and without any hesitation, it must just be me who had the problem. So I left.”
But about twenty years later, Bob heard about a little Episcopal church in Chelsea that shared its building with a Jewish Temple congregation. Together, these two communities had started a feeding program that provides and serves over 1300 lunches to homeless people a day. And they serve these meals face-to-face, person-to-person in the church sanctuary! “When I heard about this, I thought of that place in the gospel where Jesus says ‘For I was hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and you gave me drink,’ and ‘when you did it to the least of these you did it unto me.’ When I signed up to volunteer, I asked if there was anything I had to believe in to be a part of this program. The lady chuckled and said, ‘Yeah…you’ve got to believe that hungry people ought to be fed.’ I’ve been a part of the soup kitchen community ever since.”
Bob needed to hear the gospel in a tongue that wasn’t so concerned with ancient creeds and confessions. He heard and was transformed by the tongue of the social gospel, the gospel of feeding the hungry with no questions asked, no strings attached. Bob needed to see the gospel in a place where, as Ian Lawton puts it “people put their humanity before their ideology. “
Last, I want to tell you about Janice. She’s a trip, very new-agey but with a broad and deep background in other religions, particularly Buddhism and Hinduism. She practices yoga and silent contemplation as well, believing that they are “portals to the Divine.” Janice has always loved and been drawn to Jesus. She just can’t accept the claim that Jesus is the “only way.” “There’s no way all these other ancient, beautiful, peaceful religious paths can just be dismissed, especially since they share so much with the teachings of Jesus…Jesus is bigger than Christianity,” Janice likes to say. “Christians don’t own Jesus. Jesus would refuse to let them.”
Janice is teaching me and some of the other folks in the community I’ve started about silence and contemplation, practices that have deep deep roots in Christianity as well as other Eastern religions. The tongue Janice needed to hear the Gospel in is a silent tongue, a tongue that holds itself so that the Spirit of God might speak.
To me, these three stories of my friends – Jim, Bob, and Janice - are Pentecost stories, stories about the importance of communicating the Gospel in as many tongues and as many languages and as many forms as we possibly can. Our story from Acts 2 shows us how committed God was to allowing the Gospel to take as many forms as was necessary for all people to hear it and experience it in a way that made sense to them.
My prayer, my dream is that when you hear about someone like me or someone like Janice, Bob, or Jim, who practices or understands Jesus a little differently than you do, that you won’t be angry or frightened, dismissive or judgmental. My hope is that you will remember Acts chapter 2, the Pentecost story, and the great Wesleyan hymn – “O for a thousand tongues to sing.” For the Jesus we’re seeking to follow is bigger than any of our minds. The Jesus we’re seeking to follow is not the sole property of Christians or the Christian Church. Jesus needs to be expressed in a thousand different ways, including some that we haven’t even conceived of yet. Let’s be thankful for those who are adding their tongues to the grand chorus that Charles Wesley longed for. Amen.
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Eloise Anna Jones
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papa and Weezie
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