Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Grandpa's Gaze

My grandpa does this thing when I visit with him that I never really noticed until recently.

When there is a pause in conversation and I begin to glance around the room, when I look back at him, he smiles.

While I look for the next topic to discuss, he has not removed his eyes from me. His gaze warms my heart…but also has me wondering, what in the world is he staring at me for?

Do I have something on my face?

Is he wondering what he is going to have for supper?

Or is he contemplating me the way a grandfather does of a grandson, admiring who I am as a person because of who he is as one?

Regardless the reason behind it, it is a feeling I find comforting. His brief smile when our eyes reconnect is a type of blessing for me. It is as if he is saying, “I’m proud of you, grandson.”

He gets it. He understands the importance of being present.

The same cannot be said when I am with my friends.

Not because we don’t think the world of each other, but because, we are less present with one another.

When I’m with my grandpa, the only competition I have is age and the effect it has on ears that are 92 years old.

With my friends or other members of my family we are very distracted. Most of us have our cell phones on the table waiting for it to flash, ding, or buzz. And when it isn’t flashing, dinging, or buzzing, we have a tendency to pick up our phones, gazing into the lights the way my grandfather gazes at his grandsons, hoping to connect with someone something.

I wonder, how much do we miss because of technology?

As I caught myself doing this at lunch last week, I did a little research and Googled statistics about phone use.

Here is a stat I found in a Time Magazine article that overwhelms me but doesn’t surprise me:  The average person looks at his or her phone 46 times every day.[1] The article goes on to say, “Although 46 checks per day is the average, that number varies depending on users’ age group. Those between the ages of 18 and 24 look at their phones most often, with an average of 74 checks per day. Americans in the 25-34 age bracket look at their devices 50 times per day, and those between 35 and 44 do so 35 times each day.

Yikes.

That is a lot of unnecessary screen time.

Part of what makes Jesus so compelling is his presence with people. Granted, Jesus didn’t live in an age where he could ‘connect’ with people through a cell phone. He did, however, travel around with twelve people who were pretty demanding of his time. Jesus knew how to be with people, how to give them all of his attention, and in doing so, validated their lives and their humanness. People in the Gospels felt loved and knew they were loved by simply being with Jesus.

Perhaps you don’t have a cell phone and thus this post is irrelevant to you. Or maybe you do have a phone and you have more self-control than the average American. For that I applaud you.

For the rest of us, let’s make a promise to pay attention more to those with whom we are dining. Turn off the TV with the floating heads in the background, put aside the newspaper you always read during your meal with your spouse, and leave the cell phone in the car the next time you go out with people. Let’s promise that we will do our very best to be completely present to those we share life with.

And when there is a pause in conversation, don’t be so quick to look away or find something to say.

Instead, just be with each other, gazing at each other in a way God gazes upon us in all our humanity.

The way my grandfather gazes at me when we are together.

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[1] Lisa Eadicicoo. Time. “Americans Check Their Phones 8 Billion Times A Day.” Accessed May 01, 2016.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Clutter

Stuff.

If you’re like me, you have a lot of it.

It seems as if every nook and cranny is an invitation for me to stow papers and trinkets; even clothes sometimes. When those spaces get too full, I often find myself browsing a thrift store looking for a piece of furniture to store or display the stuff I have.

This past winter when I was having a moment, one of those when nothing I put on worked, I caught myself standing in the middle of a giant pile of clothes. It looked as if my closest had vomited every article of clothing I owned onto my bedroom floor.

That is when it hit me… No, really, the shelf that held my dress shirts broke and hit me in the head…

I had too many clothes.

For Lent, I decided to go through my closest and dresser and get rid of one article of clothing per day. I wanted to simplify my life.

So I had a hard talk with each item.

From my very first bow tie to the sweatshirt I had to have in college, each one went through the examination. I remembered when and where I bought the item or who gave it to me. Some items I needed to get rid of simply because, well, the hole under the armpit was larger than the neckline.

Ultimately, I asked the same two questions, “Do I really need this? Do I still have a use for it?”

Fifty articles of clothing were eventually purged from my closest and donated to the Clothing Closet that our church is hosting this weekend.

If I am honest with you, this was kind of a difficult task. Many of the dress shirts brought back memories. Many of my sweatshirts flooded my mind with memories of those long weekend getaways with friends. That holy pair of jeans (that ended up in the garbage and not at the Clothing Closet) reminded me of one of the best days of fishing I ever had.

But here is the deal, friends, the impulse to save, to make do, to find a use for things, can get out of hand. And the irony of saving things is that we accumulate so much stuff that we forget what’s there and end up buying duplicates.

Like three Chicago Cubs sweatshirts; five fleece button down up shirts; thirteen pairs of jeans (I am not proud of this); and 30+ neckties. I am still working on letting go of my many pairs of shoes. Especially those baseball shoes I have had for ten years…and I’ve only worn a dozen times…but one day I will coach again…and one day I might just need them…you know, to preach in?!?!

What sparked this issue for me is the realization of how much stuff I have and how much I depend on that stuff. I have a lot of books. While I read most of them, there is also a part of me that uses these books to impress people who see them.

Here’s the deal, our possessions may be precious to us; they may even have a lot of power over us. And they may even have a lot of meaning (like that black flannel shirt I have that once belonged to my late uncle. Though it is two sizes too big, I will NEVER get rid of it…).

But my favorite Cubs coffee mug, all those books, all those bow ties, all those (insert those items you have a tendency to collect) aren’t the ruach of God, the breath of God.

God gifted us with all we need and then asked us to take care of it. Part of this call means to be good stewards:  use only what we need and share because with God, there is enough for everyone.

Our stuff is meant to bring us joy and life.

If it doesn’t, if it gets in the way, perhaps it is time to share it with someone else.

There is freedom in letting go.

Or as Quaker theologian Richard Foster has boldly said, “The goal of work is not to gain wealth and possessions, but to serve the common good and bring glory to God.”

To bring glory to God means to make God’s presence known.

Stuff can get in the way of this.

But stuff can also add to it.

I guess the choice is ours!

Through Stained Glass: A Lenten Challenge

Through Stained Glass:  A Lenten Challenge

Have you ever met someone who is always questioning someone or something?

It could be sunny outside but that person would say, “But is it really sunny?”

That might be a bit of an exaggeration but I hope you get the point I’m trying to make. There always seems to be a catch or some fine print that takes what appears great and makes it too good to be true.

Like those Internet specials advertised on TV or those cell phone plans that are just $49.99 a month…and in fine print there is a clause about how you must dye your hair blue for 12 months in order to receive the discount.

What I am about to say will probably blow your mind.

In fact, you’ll probably think I’m one of those folks who is simply blowing smoke.

You ready?

Okay, here it goes:

God is love.

As Episcopalian priest Broderick Greer put it, “God is not a trickster. When God offers God's self in the person of Jesus, God is telling us who God is: mercy, compassion, and faithfulness.”

You don’t have to join a church for God to love you.

You don’t have to be a saint for God to love you.

You don’t even need to have your life figured out for God to love you.

Here is the best thing about God:  there may be seasons in our lives where we question something about our faith. There even may be a season or two when we doubt if God is even real, if prayer matters, and that church only perpetuates pain rather than relieves it.

God will never question you.

Instead, God looks upon you with mercy and promises to do something with you and within you.

Friends, there is no need to limit God to past mercies. Or, as one pastor has said, “God is an ever present help, to quote the old hymn. The gospel needs to be heard every day. The life-giving word of forgiveness cannot be proclaimed in the past tense. It was wonderful when it was announced yesterday, but yesterday's gospel is today's teaching. We need to hear the gospel afresh, every day.”

The prophet Isaiah reminds us of this when he writes,

¹⁸ Do not remember the former things,
   or consider the things of old. 
¹⁹ I am about to do a new thing;
   now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
   and rivers in the desert. 

God’s love is not too good to be true.

It is good and very true.

Whether you are aware of it or not, God has, is, and will continue to do something new in your life. Even now, God’s love is falling upon you and dwells within you.

That is the thing about God, even when we feel like we are in exile, God has not abandoned us. God is about liberation and resurrection, not punishment and condemnation.

God is about restoration and always will be.

Perhaps it is our own selves that are preventing it from happening.

Because let’s be honest, that sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it?

Through Stained Glass: A Lenten Commentary

Through Stained Glass: A Lenten Catholicon

Through Stained Glass:  A Lenten Catholicon

I needed worship on Sunday.

My spirit’s well had run dry.

My heart’s joy had been depleted.

But Sunday restored my hope. There was such a hum rushing through the pews the way water seeps through cracks. We, as a family of faith, had gathered to worship, to share life, and to break bread. We, as a family of faith, lived into what I think is our best gift that we can offer to Lincoln and one of the most important in our missional identity:  hospitality.

As y’all know we hosted the choir from Lincoln College. Yet I think many of you would agree that in the end, they hosted us. Their singing possessed a peacefulness that penetrated the solemnity that Lent can sometimes posses. They gave us a break from our ‘normal routine’ and they took us down to the river where we were able to drink deep from God’s goodness and mercy.

On Sunday, I believed a part of us was healed.

Did you know the church can do that?

Did you know that the church can heal?

Did you know that the church is actually called to bring healing to the world?

Did you know that you cannot only participate in this healing but also receive it?

Did you know that God wants to heal you?

         From whatever is troubling.

         From whatever burden you are carrying.

         From that broken heart.

         From the bad news you received.

         From the doubt that you aren’t as good as your siblings.

         From the busy life you have taken on without knowing.

         From burn out.

You get the point.

All of this reminds me of an interaction Jesus had at a well with a Samaritan woman. Perhaps you remember it. It is high noon and Jesus stops to get a drink of water while the disciples go ahead into the city to do what disciples do. At the well Jesus meets a woman and asks her for a drink.

From there the interactions goes something like this:

Woman:  You are asking me, a Samaritan, to get you, a Jew, a drink? No way.

Jesus:  If you knew who I was, you would. You’d never have to drink again, actually.

Woman:  Ha! You don’t even have a bucket. So please, give me this living water. (Giant eye roll!)

The interaction gets a little strange. Jesus invites/tells her to go get her husband. She can’t and Jesus reveals that he knows her history. Most sermons will depict this woman as a prostitute of sorts. But this isn’t necessarily the case. She is more likely widowed or abandoned, because men often did that in 1^st century culture.

What happens next is a healing. The woman was made to be ashamed about who she was:  not only a Samaritan woman, who was viewed as an equal to a man’s donkey, but also a divorced woman. Jesus shouldn’t be talking to her. She wasn’t worthy of such acknowledgment.

Jesus has no interest in shaming her. Instead Jesus gazes upon her with sympathetic eyes and extends a word of hope, a word of healing. Jesus is not chastising her or calling her to account; rather he sees her; compassionately naming and understanding her circumstances.

I like what one Lutheran pastor says about this interaction:

While she came to the well to get water, now that she has met Jesus, "who told me everything I have ever done," she leaves her jar -- the token of her present difficult and dependent life -- behind to go tell others. She has, indeed, encountered living water, has been freed by her encounter with Jesus, and wants to share this living water with others.

Sunday I was the woman at the well.

I was thirsty and needed my cup filled up. And it was at church, among you, brothers and sisters, that my thirst was quenched.

Worship was refreshing and my spirit was renewed. That's what refreshment does for us; it renews our spirits like a cool glass of water, and moves us from scarcity to abundance in all aspects of our lives.

Friends, God wants to heal us. God sits at the well waiting for us to come. God welcomes us.

God welcomes you with open, healing arms.

My question to you is, what are you holding onto that is prevent you from being healed by God?

Name it. Then, leave it at the well.