Righteousness: a love soaked action verb

This Sunday we saw two unlikely guests at our brunch table.

Yes, that's right. We welcomed Jack, a round headed odd ball famous for his Jack in the Box burger franchise and Jesus the Christ, beloved son of God and savior of mankind.

My oldest daughter is sweating out life at a high altitude running camp this week. She and I usually enjoy cooking our Sunday brunch together. Without her sweet presence, I found myself too listless to cook. So, we drove to Jack in the Box instead.

There's something sadly comforting about a Jumbo Jack (plus cheese and bacon), onion rings and a vanilla shake. This is the kind of meal which sits heavy in the stomach. Even though it is notoriously bad for one's cardiovascular system, it has the power to fill those gnawing, growling emotional voids that sometimes come upon us when the people we love are absent. So just for today, in honor of our oldest daughter's absence, we ate our Jumbo Jacks with relish, groaning with every bite of greasy goodness.

After eating our meal we read from Matthew 25.

As some of you may recall, this is the chapter where Jesus tells us that on the day of judgement, God's people will be identified as those who fed the hungry/thirsty, clothed the naked, sheltered the homeless, cared for the sick and visited the imprisoned. It is here that Christ reaffirms Hebrew scripture (Ezek 18:7; PS 112:1-10 and Job. 31:13-23) and defines righteousness as those things we do on behalf of the needy.

We are righteous when we care for and heal the sick. We are righteous when we feed, clothe, house and love those who hunger, who are naked, who are homeless and unloved. We are righteous when we visit those who are imprisoned.

When Christ speaks of righteousness, he doesn't seem to represent righteousness as some passive work that's done in us; but rather, when Christ speaks of righteousness it's as if the word becomes a love soaked action verb.

God's word is so clear. We are to love one another. We are to care for one another. We are to have a special concern for the imprisoned, the homeless, the hungry, the thirsty, the sick and all of the poor ones.

In this chapter, Christ tells us that we are to self identify with the poor ect. because Christ himself self identified with the poor. When we serve them, we serve Him.

My family spent a fair amount of time digesting these passages. We talked about the myriad ways we could love not just one another, but others as well. It was a sweet, sometimes bittersweet conversation. It was a conversation where we reflected upon the pain and the loss, the brokenness, we often see reflected in the lives of others and sometimes feel even within ourselves.

It would have been a horribly sad conversation, had we not determined that there is a solution to that brokenness...that sorrow, that empty space in our souls.

That solution is Jesus.

Yes, I know it sounds ridiculously simple, moronic even. How can Jesus be the solution?

Well, that answer is in Matthew 25. When I see you, hurting and alone, I am to see Christ in you and I am to be Christ for you. Through Christ, our lives become intertwined, and through Christ, we become the healing presence of the living God for one another.

Sometimes we need Jumbo Jacks to fill that void gnawing in our guts...but if the truth be told, the only real bread, the only genuine appeasement of our hunger can ultimately be found in the person of Jesus, the Christ.

I feel doubly blessed this Sunday to have welcomed both Jack and Jesus at our table today. I only wish you could have joined us.

Sunday Brunch

Today we are having a baked french toast casserole for our Sunday brunch.

My oldest daugther and I made this delectable dish using cinnamon chip bread from the Great Harvest Bread Company.

We also added eight eggs, half and half, cinnamon, nutmeg. Oh, and let's not forget the pièce de résistance....a buttery praline topping!

It should be yummy.

I'm not sure what scripture verse we will use today. This week, our oldest daughter is in charge of our scripture reading.

I do know that there will be lots of praying going on. We have so much to thank God for these days, and so much to ask of Him too.

If you were going to invite God to your Sunday noon meal, what would you like to say to Him? What questions would you ask?

This might actually be a great launching point for our brunch discussion today.....

Perhaps this shows my spiritual immaturity, but I would have lots of "why" questions. One really big one would be: God, why do you permit suffering?

(By the way, this is my question for God, not man. I've already heard and read man's answers.)

How about you?

What would you ask the Big Guy?

********

UPDATE:

Here are the questions we asked God this morning at our brunch.

Nine year old son: God, are aliens real?
Twelve year old daughter: God, why do you allow little children to still be bought and sold into slavery?
Seventeen year old daughter: God, will the Jewish people get to go to heaven? (This question generated two additional questions: Does hell exist? and Is the lake of fire in Revelations metaphorical or real?)
Fourteen year old son: God, who took my fourteen dollars and will you smite them for me?
Me: God why do you allow suffering to persist?
Six year old daughter: Where do people in heaven go to the bathroom?
Husband: God, how can we know for sure that you are real?

God help me

CHOOSE LIFE

~ by Sister Helen Kelley

Choose life
only that and always,
and at whatever risk
To let life leak out,
to let it wear away by
the mere passage of time,
to withhold
giving it and spreading it
is to choose
nothing.

I confess that I do not always choose life; or perhaps I should say, that I often choose a half life.

And because I choose this half life, I sometimes feel I must horde every smidgen of life, every second of time and every ounce of love. I horde because the economy of my half life is one of scarcity. Want and need press me in from all sides. I live as if I am locked within some invisible box.

You see, there is never enough courage, or enough energy, or enough hope to push through this thin veil of my half life into a new life of abundance and wholeness. And so, I hide from relationships and opportunities because I am too afraid, too tired, or perhaps simply too uninspired to care. Some days, it takes all I have to live and breathe from one moment to the next.

I am painfully aware that this is not the way my life should be.

More than anything, I want to sweat life's sweetness through my pores and to giggle with delight when it balls and pools to form sweaty little rivlets that run down my face and neck and back.

More than anything, I want that throbbing energy of life to saturate my coming and going....so much so, that when I leave a place, people pause and say, "Hmmmmm, Jerri must have just been here."

Does anyone really hear what I am saying?

More than anything, I want this life to matter.

I want this life to matter....

I want my life to matter.

No more hording, no more hiding....just living.

God help me make it so.

Death comes

Remember my homeless friend? The one who was hit by the car?

Her mother died Tuesday morning.

I spoke with her Wednesday. She expressed such relief that her mother's pain had finally ended, but I could tell that the finality of this earthly loss of someone so beloved, was threatening to crush her.

She flew to Arizona for the funeral yesterday.

Won't you join me in prayer?

*********

Hey God. It's me, Jerri, and I'm just sitting here trying to figure out this whole grief thing.

Your word tells me that you are close to those who mourn.

I'm taking you at your word Father, and I'm holding you to that promise.

I'm asking you God, please pull Cindi close to you. Enfold her in your arms. Father God, comfort Cindi. Let her know that she is not alone in her grief.

While you are at it God, rest your merciful touch on Cindi's step-father. He too is grieving this loss. His heart is so heavy with tears........

Cindi's mother loved you Father. She loved you and I believe she delights in your presence now as never before. Even though this is cause for great celebration, still we grieve.

We grieve, and we cry out to you for solace.

Blessed are those who mourn....

Bless us with your presence. That's all I ask.

In the name of your Son and my saviour, Jesus Christ,

Amen.

My warring willies

I feel as though I am at war with my church.

I've felt this way for a very long time.

Simply walking by our church gives me the willies. Actually going inside triggers my gag reflex. I feel physically ill every time I enter the building.

I haven't always felt this way.

When we first began attending church nine years ago, the church culture which greeted me was undoubtedly a strange new world, but it was also a refuge of sorts. It afforded me the space, the encouragement, and I would even go so far as to say, the desire to meet the Risen Lord, the Christ, my precious Jesus.

I'm not sure why things have changed; or should I say, why I've changed?

I think part of the problem is that I began reading the Bible, I mean really reading the Bible. As I did so, I noticed the intricate threads that begin in the Hebrew Scriptures and weave and wind their way to the very end of the Revelation of Saint John. Threads that speak of love and patience and caring. Threads that speak of concern for the welfare of others. Threads that speak of a God so passionate for His creation that He was willing to move heaven and earth to reach us, to draw us to Himself.

I have concluded that church should not be about showmanship, nor should a worship service ever be like a corporate business meeting. I'm not so sure it should even be about the business of vision casting or missions/program development. It seems to me, that the vision has already been cast for us by the most high God through His living word, the Christ, our precious Jesus. It seems to me that the church doesn't really need all of its self-centered, self-serving missions/programs. Church is the mission.

Individually and corporately, we are to love our God by loving one another, and by loving all of God's creation.

The problem I'm having, is that my church seems to fail so miserably in doing this. I have reasons and experiences which have led to believe this is so. And I struggle with this because I know that I, myself, have failed so miserably in loving God and loving neighbor. What right have I to point a finger at the very church that helped lead me to Christ? If I doom the church, am I not dooming myself?

And so I find myself sitting here this morning, wondering.....

....what is an appropriate course of action in a situation such as this?

I've spoken with trusted friends. I've shared my concerns with mentors from the church. They've agreed with many of my assessments, many of the issues I've raised regarding the church's failings; but they've offered me precious little counsel about how to move forward and still maintain a healthy relationship in and with the church.

So I've taken matters into my own hands. I've arranged to meet with a pastor whose passion is peace making and dispute resolution. Maybe he is the next step in my quest for peace and restoration.

If you think of me, won't you please join me in prayer? This pastor and I will meet Monday morning. Would you join me in praying that our meeting is Spirit led? Pray that I am humble enough to hear what I need to hear, and not just hear what I want to hear.

I don't know why this matters so much to me....but it does.

Floating

Yesterday afternoon, my youngest daughter (age 6) and I had the pool all to ourselves. The boys were fencing, my oldest daughter was working out at the "Y", and my middle daughter had ballet class.

We were alone. The air was warm. The water was cool and we both dove in with joyful abandon. (Well, we didn't dive exactly. Instead, we climbed over the pool ladder and carefully eased our over-heated bodies into the 60 degree water. Pool shock sucks, I try to avoid it all cost!)

It's always blissfully strange to be in the pool without all of my progeny. Absent the rough housing and splashing that comes with five children, the pool is so still and calm. It seemed an opportune moment to teach my youngest daughter the fine art of floating.

There, in the heat stilled afternoon, I held my beautiful child face up on the water. I explained to her that she didn't need my hand under her back. I calmly explained that if I let her go, she could trust the water to hold her up. She wouldn't sink like a stone. She wouldn't drown.....

But you know what? When you are six and you've never felt what it is to have the water bouy you up, it's a scary thing to let your parent remove their hand.

She nearly panicked when I suggested I let my hand fall. She was so afraid.

Calmly and purposefully I stared into her hazel eyes. I let all of my love for her pour into her sweet face, and somehow, in that moment she found the courage to trust.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I let my hand fall away.

I wish you all could have seen her face. I wish you could have seen her in that moment of incredulity, that moment of sheer bliss as she stared skyward and lost herself floating in the still blue of water and sky....

This was probably one of the most sacred moments I've experienced in a long time. I say sacred because it was a moment where love and trust transported my daughter and me to some lovely and wholly intangible place. I say sacred because this is precisely what my relationship with God has been like.

You see, for a long time now, God has been whispering into my ear that I can let go. I can let go of my bitterness, my fear of the unknown, my need to look better than I am. He's telling me that I won't sink. He's assuring me that if I release my fear and my insecurity I won't drown. He's gazing into my soul with eyes so filled with love, that my only response is to trust.

Just as my daughter trusted me, I choose to trust God. I trust that as God removes his hand, his living water will bouy me up. I trust that God will not let me sink, or be overcome by the troubles of this life. I trust His love.

And together we float, God and I. Losing ourselves in that crazy intersection where soul meets body.

We float.....and I cannot help but wonder in moments like this why I was ever so afraid or doubted in the first place.

The Trust Cartel

Several years ago, my husband wrote a fictional legal thriller. It is called, "The Trust Cartel".

Remember that title, because his last batch of query letters yielded positive results.

We are optimistic that we may have found a publisher.

Who knows? A few years from now, my darling husband may have realized his dream of becoming a published author.

I can just see him now.....he'll hanging out with the Powell's crowd, signing books and basking in the adoration of his fans!

Me?

I'll be off spending the royalties!

Blessings

A Prayer for God's Blessing
A Franciscan Benediction

May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression and exploitation of people,
So that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world,
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

Amen.
Source: unknown

U-Turns

Our oldest daughter just received her driver's licence.

Our oldest son will soon be testing to receive his learner's premit to drive.

The other day they were discussing the legality of U turns when our nine year old son interrupts his older siblings' conversation and asks, "So Kelsey, are their different kinds of turns for every letter in the alphabet?"

.....ok, I know that I am the mother and all, but I thought his question was sweetly hilarious.

Another tale to tell.

I have a friend.

Three months ago, she was hit by a car while cycling to work.

Her bike was destroyed, she suffered some neck and back trauma, but her brain bucket did its job and she escaped without injury to her brain or her limbs.

The injuries to her neck and back resulted in an inability to fulfill her job as an elementary PE instructor. She lost time from work, suffered a significant loss of income and now, three months later has lost her rental home.

She is homeless. Her two teenage children are homeless. Her adult daughter (husband is currently serving in Iraq) and granddaughter also now find themselves homeless.

I spent the better part of yesterday helping them move their possessions to a storage unit. It was tough and dirty work. It was chaotic. It was overwhelming.

Our family is helping as much as we can. We've paid for the storage unit through August and we helped connect our friend with a neighborhood family that is traveling to Guatemala on a mission trip. They needed a house and pet sitter. Our friend needed a home. It was a good match.

Today when I go to the Farmer's Market, I will pick up some fresh veggies and run it by the house with a Safeway gift certificate to help the family purchase groceries.

Yesterday, my friend confided that she had approached our church several weeks ago for financial assistance. The church's response was to supply my friend with a list of homeless shelters and to also offer her a spot in the church's next Good Sen$e Class ( a Christian money/budget/management course).

We are a large church (6000 strong). We have a Benevolent Fund. Those funds are intended to help in situations such as these.

I contacted the Pastor of Caring and Neighborhood ministries and inquired why my friend (a long time member of our church) did not find aid (was not even offered prayer) and I was told it was not my place to question this decision. There were confidentiality issues.

Ok, confidentiality issues. I know some of the issues.

My friend married last Fall. Because she was a divorced woman, the church required that she take a divorce recovery class and that she and her fiance also attend pre-marital counseling. Which they both did. The church ultimately did not endorse the marriage. They married anyway and it ended badly.

Strike one. (Won't follow church leadership's direction.)

My friend has approached the church for financial support on previous occasions.

Strike two. (Financially imprudent.)

There are several other issues which I won't bother detailing because my brain already hurts but suffice it to say.....

Strike three.

Sorry Charlene. You are OUT! No help for you!

Ugh.

This experience follows closely on the heels of Saturday's Drunk Homeless Guy experience. Now granted, I don't have all of the details/reasons why the church refused to assist my friend; and apparently in the eyes of church leadership at least, it isn't my place to know.

I suppose my question at this point is this:

How is the church using all of the money we pay into the Benevelent Fund?

Wow. Do you suppose I even have the right to ask that question? More importantly, do I have a right to the answer?

You know, I'm just flabbergasted. A woman went to her church. A mother with dependent children, a long time church member, a woman who's volunteered and loved her brothers and sisters in Christ, went to her church in a time of need and she was turned away. Just like Drunk Homeless Guy, she was turned away.

This woman, this friend of ours has suffered so much loss this past year. She's experienced the loss of her marriage, the loss of her brother to colon cancer, the loss of their home and now she must also face the impending loss of her own mother to cancer.

Oh sweet Jesus, where are you in all of this?

The loss, the incredible loss. The chaos, the uncertainty, the pain of it all......it just overwhelms me.

I can't even imagine how my friend must feel......

WTF?

Imagine a church sanctuary filled with close to a thousand people. It's a Saturday night, and the church service has just begun.

In walks an obviously intoxicated, homeless man.

Drunk homeless guy proceeds to wander up, down, and all around the sanctuary looking for a seat. After several minutes, he finds one, tests it out; but when it wasn't to his liking he decides to roam the aisles once again looking for another seat.

Along the way, drunk homeless guy is loud. He smells bad. He's distracting the entire sanctuary.

After worship, for whatever reason, this individual chooses to leave the sanctuary. Several minutes later, he tries to return to the sanctuary only to find his entry blocked by an usher who refuses to let him back into the sanctuary for the teaching.

Drunk homeless guy asks why he can't go back in. The usher tells him that he is too disruptive. Drunk homeless guy replies, "You folks aren't very welcoming here." and he leaves.

He leaves.

We've had similar experiences with this church. Only our disruption was an overly talkative three year old child. We were asked to leave the sanctuary because our child's questions were disturbing those around us. And so we left. Just like drunk homeless guy, we left.

Was drunk homeless guy so disruptive that he should have been denied access to Saturdays' service? Not in my opinion.

It all just seems so wrong, so horribly and terribly wrong.

I cannot help but feel that this past Saturday night, Christ showed up in the form a drunk, homeless man and what did we do? We turned him away.

I do not know if I can conscience attending this church any longer.