Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Running

Well y’all, I did it.

I completed another race!

Okay, by another I mean my third.

In the grand scheme of things, it really isn’t that impressive considering it was only a 5K (3+ miles).

But, I did it.

As many of you know, I played baseball in college. Unlike hall of famer Ricky Henderson, I was not known for my speed. In fact, I often heard coach yell, ‘Hey Quine, you’re running like you have a piano on your back!”

Not an Electric Baby Grand Piano, either; the Grandest of Grand Pianos!

Which is why for me, running these races mean so much. It is a goal that I work I can work towards. It is a goal that also helps me stay in shape. When I have a race to prepare for, I become more mindful of how my body is feeling. As time goes on, I am realizing that I not as young as I used to be. Before, I could run three miles without stretching and without much preparation. That isn’t the case anymore.

It takes a lot of work for me. Preparing for a race requires me to think through not only the obvious like, when will I run today, but the more difficult questions regarding health…particularly diet.

Honestly, running a 5k doesn’t require much change in my diet. I can continue to eat poorly, drink high calorie coffee drinks rather than water, eat more fried food than green stuff, and still finish under 30 minutes. Essentially, I can do what I’ve always done and get by with a decent time but with no real change.

That bothers me though.

It bothers me because I have two items on my bucket list I want to cross off soon. They are to run a half marathon and then a full marathon. 

Yes, you read that correctly.

Your pastor has a dream to run a marathon.

The thought of this frightens me…and exhausts me. Which is why up to this point I have not actually pursued signing up for one.

Actually, I never really shared this with anyone.

Usually when the thought comes up, I lie down until it passes.

I scare myself out of doing it with the “what if” questions.

What if I hurt myself?

What if I am the last person to finish?
What if I don’t finish?

What if the race is on a Sunday?

What if that is the day Jesus comes back and I’m at mile eight when he calls everyone back? Talk about a waste of time!

Sure, there are a lot of things to go wrong.

Yet the things that could go wrong do not outweigh the thought of accomplishing such a goal. Ultimately, there is so much good that can come from this. In addition to crossing off an item on my bucket list, my heart and health will benefit from the training. I will have proven to myself that I can do something I only thought about doing.

I’ll discover again, I hope, that I do have what it takes, the discipline, to do something as challenging as this.

There is an obvious connection here to our faith. Love is a discipline and Love requires discipline. It is no accident that the Apostle Paul uses athletic training as a metaphor for the life of faith. In order to achieve the goal, God’s shalom on earth as it is in heaven, we need to commit ourselves to love.

But as in preparing for a race, love is not easy. It demands that we persevere, endure, and push past our weariness as we approach the finish line. It may mean changing adapting our training so that we can get past the three miles that we’ve always run. This may require getting off the course normally used and the route always taken.

Ultimately, the metaphor of preparing for a race makes sense to me because while I could run a 5k and be completely content, I know I can run both a half and a full marathon. It may not look pretty, it may take me a few days between start and finish, but I can do it.

Settling isn’t an option. There is more in my tank. Though I’ve never done training, like, training for a race, does not mean I can’t. It will be foreign to me and I know I’ll struggle with it, but it will help me accomplish a goal.

So I guess what I am saying is this:  I’ve set a new goal for myself and I’m embarking on an exciting new endeavor.

As I run and begin preparations, this will be my mantra and I hope you will say it with me. It is the opening lines from David Whyte’s poem Start Close In.

Start close in,

don’t take the second step

or the third,

start with the first

thing

close in,

the step

you don’t want to take.

(Italicized emphasis is the poet’s)

Guess all there is left to do is to sign up for that race…

My cousin Aaron and me at the WORLD famous Wrigley Field
marquee post race. Again, Aaron pushed me and stayed with
me the whole race...until I told him, after we ran through
the concourse at Wrigley, that he better beat me. He did...by more
than a few seconds! 

Through Stained Glass: Time's Fun When You're Having Flies...

Above is a picture taken from behind the clock at Le Musée d’Orsay in Paris.

My friend Jeremy took this photo.

It has become one of my favorites from the last year’s adventure to the City of Lights.

If not because it reminds me of the wonderful and timeless pieces of art I saw, but also because I had such a great time.

Time.

This picture reminds me of the time I spent sauntering down the streets listening to street musicians, contemplating paintings walls, and enjoying, like really enjoying, all the food I ate.

I guess you could say it was the time of my life!

Confession to you all, my dear readers:  I’ve been functioning as if time is running out.

This state of mind has me rushing through just about every activity.

From as informal activities such as reading and writing to more professional activities as meetings and even leading worship, I’ve had my foot on the accelerator doing my best to save time in order to have more time….

Wait.

What?

Exactly.

So, before I go any further, I apologize for rushing. I apologize for being in such a hurry that we do not get to be together in a complete way. While I do not believe we’ve wasted our time, I do believe I have not honored your time entirely.

Time.

It is something not meant to be wasted or killed (I can’t stand that expression by the way and think it is time we retire it!). Instead, time is to be embraced and enjoyed. Time is a gift.

What has me thinking about time was a meditative moment for Monday mornings in one of my prayer books. The instructions for today was this:

Pause to look at the clock, and think about the mystery of time. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day, is God’s gift of time. It is a gift unearned, simply given.

Time. 

We all have time. Sometimes we run out of time. At times we feel as if we don’t have enough time. Yet we say to some they have too much time. As one philosopher has said, “The times, they are a changing.”

Time flies.

Kermit the Frog said it best, “Time’s fun when your having flies.”

You might want to read that a second time…

Whatever time it is for you, take time.

Call time out.

Or time in.

Take the time you need.

As you do remember time is a part of our faith journey.

Ecclesiastes reminds us everything has its time.

            A time to be born, and a time to die…

            A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted…

            A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing…

            A time to keep, and a time to throw away…

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven…”

Time is a gift.

Take time to be. I give you permission to take as much time as you need today to do whatever brings you life.

I encourage you to be mindful of your time.

Because there is no better time than now…

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 Holy Week Word

(this is a sermon i wrote for the Holy Wednesday service at FPC lincoln and didn't end up preaching. it is a little longer. may you be washed clean by the Christ who welcomes all at the table!)

“A Foot Washing Word”

John 13.1-18, 31-35

We want to get to the main event, don’t we?

The point in the evening when all the awkward greetings are over and the small talk has gotten past the weather, the Cubs, and how the kids are doing.

The point in the evening where you and your spouse forget about the argument you had over the bottle of Pepsi you brought instead of the wine as you walked up the sidewalk.

The point in the evening where you stop worrying if so-and-so will be there because, well, she tells the same stories over and over and if you have to listen to Mr. Know It All’s take on the candidate you’re most annoyed with that you might just rip his toupee off and tell him to shut it.

The point in the evening when you’re more than half way through the night and you are just 45 minute away from taking off this tie or those heels, and you can slip back into those tired sweatpants, let your hair down, and watch reruns of your favorite TV show.

We want to get to the main event, don’t we?

Some of us are perfectly fine with the small talk and rarely argue with the significant other, don’t worry at all about who will be there, and find a night in watching Netflix a bit too boring.

Some of us see the whole night as the main event and are saddened when even the trivial celebration comes to an end.

            If you’re thinking I am being a bit trite in my generalizations, you are absolutely right.

            Something needed to set us up about our foot washing experience.

            Like going to parties or events, some of us could care less about what our feet look and smell like. While there are some of us who washed our feet three times before we came and powered them with some of whatever Mary used on Jesus when she anointed his feet.

            And, there are those of us who absolutely will not let you or anyone, for that matter, near our feet.

What an extreme generalization bout foot washing, right?!

            In the story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples, an event that happened before the last supper, there are extremes in what takes place as well. Imagine this:

            Jesus is at the table with his disciples, all of them reclining, propped up on their elbows, dipping pita bread into bowls of savory hummus and smacking their lips; licking their fingers. The sounds of conversation fill the room, punctuated from time to time by loud laughter or the clink of one clay cup against the other. Oil lamps flicker, their light reflected in the shining eyes of the disciples, and while all of this is going on…

            Jesus gets up from the table…

            Strips off his outer robe…

            Wraps a towel around his waist…

            Pours water into a basin…

            And begin to wash the disciples’ feet.

            An extreme, unexpected action that causes a bit of a ruckus amongst the disciples. As we all know, it was the role of the house servant, not a person such as Jesus, to wash the feet of the disciples. In fact, the disciples had probably had their feet washed before. However this is different. This isn’t some servant or even one of their peers but instead this is Jesus. Their teacher. Their Lord.

            As he makes his way around the room, the disciples fall silent, until all you can hear is the splash of water being poured into the basin over dusty, callused feet.

            This is when another extreme takes place in the story. While foot washing was normal, it was expected, what Peter does was a bit over the top. Peter objects, saying “You will never wash my feet! But if you insist, wash not only my feet but also my hands and my head.”

            Jesus persists in washing only the feet and asks, “Do you know what I have done to you?”

            There is but silence.

            Jesus speaks again, “I have set you an example. If I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” Despite Peter’s best attempt to be holier-than-thou or attempt to wiggle out of Christ’s intimate act of service, Jesus washes his feet.

            What do we do with this story?

            Some of us hear this story and think, “This is a story about social justice and action, putting feet to our theology.” We want to ask questions such as: “Where is it that people are broken and bruised from war, poverty, drugs, abuse, and discrimination and are in need of a healing bath?”

            Some of us might say this story is not about doing but about being. This is a story that reminds us as people of God who are committed to serving the poor in many capacities that this is a story about letting Jesus tend to us. Just as baptism inaugurates us into Jesus’ ministry of tending and washing the wounds of a broken world, we, too, are in need of the ongoing washing of Jesus and the bathing of our own weary feet if we are to have the strength, compassion, and Spirit to continue that ministry in the world.

            But because I know you all, I know what you are thinking now:  Pastor, it isn’t either/or. Mission is a healthy balance between action and theology, contemplation and justice, mission and meetings.

            There is no disagreeing with this sentiment and truth. But let me plant a seed. Let me stir the waters in the basin a little bit.

            Perhaps this foot washing in John 13 is not just a thought exercise. It isn’t simply a scene we re-create each year because “it’s just what we do.” Instead, this scene is essential not only to the identity of God in Christ but ours as a church as well.

            Jesus doesn’t just talk about love.

            Jesus doesn’t just philosophize and theologize about loving one’s neighbor and setting up benevolence funds to assist those who are “less fortunate” than us.

            It isn’t proverbial.

            Rather, it is service.

            Jesus actually kneels down and washes the disciples’ feet—and then tells them to do likewise.

            Which might be the real reason Peter objects to Christ’s washing of his feet. Jesus was showing Peter that discipleship was not only about humble service, but also about being, as one theologian has put it, a “community of equals.” No servant is greater than his master…and to be the greatest, the master must become like the servant.

            All are welcome. All are needed.

            Some of us like parties, some of us don’t.

            Some of us don’t mind getting our feet touched; others would rather sit through a three hour opera…in German…than have our feet touched.

Wherever it is we find our selves in the either/or, both/and, all things in moderation, conversation, we are all in this together. We are all invited to the table.

Tonight is a night where we look around the table and we see not only Jesus, but also Peter, who denies Jesus; Judas, who betrays Jesus; John and James, who fall asleep while Jesus is praying in the garden; and a whole lot of other misfits who will forsake him in his darkest hour of need. It is a scene that reminds us of the posture that the church is supposed to take: one of selfless service; even if it means making a scene. It is story that reminds us that the church, that the communion table, is a place where we can come—time and time again—to have our own ugliness lovingly touched and washed clean by Jesus. The reality of this story and the good news for us is this:  Jesus washes everyone, even those who are as beloved as John or as troubled as Judas.

No questions asked.

The fact that Jesus spends his last night with his friends, pleading with them to love one another in spite of their own differences and disagreements, is compelling to say the least.

Thus, to ponder what foot washing might look like—not only in relation to the word, but also in relation to those in the church who have hurt us and those we love—might take us very close to the heart of the gospel tonight.

When Christ washes the feet of the disciples, he continues what God started.

Jesus enacted love.

We are commanded to do the same.