"The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight." Those words from Phillips Brooks end the first stanza of his classic carol, "O Little Town of Bethlehem (Lewis Redner wrote the music)." It's a song I've probably heard at least once every Christmas season that I've been alive. As is the case with anything we've known for a long time, it's easy to have heard these lyrics so many times that we actually stop hearing them.
This Advent season I've had this "hopes and fears" line on my mind quite a bit. What hopes might Brooks have had when he made the visit to Bethlehem that inspired the song? What were his fears that sat in the same space as his hopes? Could his hopes and fears have in fact been the very same things? The collision of hope and fear experienced by Mary and Joseph, Herod, a group of shepherds, the Magi, Phillips Brooks, and you and me is one we typically try to avoid, usually to our own detriment. To not admit and tell the truth about how close our hopes and fears resemble each other is to not tell the truth about our own lives, our own personhood, our very humanity.
I'm a guy who really appreciates questions. Growing up in an ultra-fundamentalist setting that confused certainty with faith will do that to you. But sometimes, answers are needed. As I consider the implications of Brooks' lyrics, however, the answers seems to be elusive. Or maybe the is that I have in fact arrived at answers that leave me with equal parts exhiliration/hope and frustration/fear. Because to consider both the possibilities and the problems of Bethlehem is to have to come to grips with not what, but Who, creates those possibilities and problems.
The collision of those possibilities and problems, and the fact they've been brought by the very One we hope will save us from this tension, confronts everyone. Some just choose to ignore both the the collision and the tension, either through believing nothing about the One born in Bethelehem that night, or believing things about Him that He never said about Himself. One of the most inconvenient truths about the baby born in Bethelehem is that quite often He doesn't deliver "your best life now." Quite often He actually calls us to a very difficult life, even the hardest life imaginable. He promises to be with us along the way, but the way can be very hard, heartbreaking, damn impossible.
In case you've confused unexamined certainty with faith, and before you completely dismiss my rambling here, consider the collision and tension John the Baptist experienced, all brought on by the baby from Bethlehem now grown into manhood. John the gospel writer writes that John the Baptist pointed out Jesus and told everyone, "There He is! The One who will save us from all this trouble?" When you read John the writer's account of John the Baptist's words, it seems the Baptist had no doubt whatsoever, and he seems to be full of hope about the possibilities this Jesus person will bring.
Luke the gospel writer tells a different story, however. John the Baptist has been locked up for telling the truth about a crooked political leader. While in prison John sends some of his followers to Jesus, telling them to ask Him a very direct question: "Are you really the One we have been expecting, or should we go back to waiting for someone else?" It's unsettling to consider just who is asking that question. The very one who announced to the very sizable crowd that listened to him that the embodiment of hope and freedom had arrived is now asking the very guy he pointed out if he should expect anything at all from Him. John the Baptist seems to be saying, "Look, I've pinned all my hopes on you, and in a pretty public way. You're now a rock star and I'm stuck in a box waiting to be killed. Really!? Is this really the way it's supposed to be? You call this hope!?"
Jesus' answer to John's followers (which you can read in Luke 7:21-23) does nothing to alleviate John's problems. At the end of His description of the kind of transformative work He's doing, Jesus seems to be telling John, " The possibilities and the problems are the very same thing. Yes, I am the One so there's no need to look any further. And that truth needs to be enough, because a change in your circumstances isn't coming."
These aren't the kind of words we normally think about during Advent. We want words about light shining in darkness, angels visiting to announce good news of great joy, strangers showing up with gifts. We want the possibilities. I believe in the possibilites. But if I'm going to step into the story Jesus continues to tell, I have to accept the collision. Like I said earlier, it's a very inconvenient truth, but it is the truth.
So this Christmas week, whatever our possibilities and problems may be, whatever the impact of our collective collisions has been or is, even if we're having to send somebody else to ask Him if we should look elsewhere, I hope that when He speaks about blind people seeing, crippled people walking, dead people coming back to life, and those who need good news the most receiving it, He will be talking about us.
Dear God, let that be a possibility.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thanksgiving '10
My favorite holiday is without a doubt Thanksgiving. I could list numerous reasons why it's my favorite, not the least of which involves food. Plus, Thanksgiving kind of seems like the calm before the coming yuletide storm. But, the biggest reason for my love of Thanksgiving is found in its name...it's a time set aside to think about those people, things, and events for which we are thankful, and then actually express that thankfulness.
So, in the spirit of the holiday, here are some of the people, things, and events that I am thankful for in 2010:
For Jeanine and how she keeps me laughing, sane, and dreaming.
For Jennifer, who has shown this year just what a strong, capable woman she is.
For being able to see Clapton live again this year.
For being able to be back in the Twin Cities, my other home town.
That in spite of who didn't want me, HCSO did.
For MOMENTUM (more on that later).
That the Lakers won the championship...again. Even better that it was over the Celtics.
That the '72 Dolphins remain the NFL's only unbeaten, untied Super Bowl champs.
For being part of Second Life of Chattanooga and its conspiracy of hope.
For Burns and CBC.
That I'm an Irreverend, and for the other 3 guys who are that as well.
For "The Turning" that has been 2010.
That I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
And finally, as I've said many times before, for being on the road I never expected, but secretly dreamed of, and for the One who made sure I found that road...or that it found me.
Happy Thanksgiving.
So, in the spirit of the holiday, here are some of the people, things, and events that I am thankful for in 2010:
For Jeanine and how she keeps me laughing, sane, and dreaming.
For Jennifer, who has shown this year just what a strong, capable woman she is.
For being able to see Clapton live again this year.
For being able to be back in the Twin Cities, my other home town.
That in spite of who didn't want me, HCSO did.
For MOMENTUM (more on that later).
That the Lakers won the championship...again. Even better that it was over the Celtics.
That the '72 Dolphins remain the NFL's only unbeaten, untied Super Bowl champs.
For being part of Second Life of Chattanooga and its conspiracy of hope.
For Burns and CBC.
That I'm an Irreverend, and for the other 3 guys who are that as well.
For "The Turning" that has been 2010.
That I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
And finally, as I've said many times before, for being on the road I never expected, but secretly dreamed of, and for the One who made sure I found that road...or that it found me.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Hearing voices
February 8, 2007. You probably don't remember what you did that day or what, if anything, of note happened for you on that date. For myself, however, I remember. I will always remember. I was sitting in a meeting in Orlando, Florida, just eight days removed from having left a very difficult ministry situation, and I had both the feeling and the attitude of a man who had just been released from prison.
I was in Orlando at the invitation of a friend, Alex McManus, who was hosting a conference dedicated to helping leaders more fully discover what it means to become fully human, especially as an aspect of knowing and following Jesus. I was greatly enjoying myself, surrounded by friends from around the country, as well as beginning to flex mental muscles that had seemed to atrophy over the previous few years. I was enjoying being challenged through both one-on-one and small-group conversations, as well as the words of those invited to speak during the 2-day event.
The main speaker for the event was Alex's brother Erwin, someone who has always challenged me to think more deeply and through a wider visionary lens. In the late afternoon of February 8, Erwin was wrapping up the event by talking about some of the things in which he and his faith community (Mosaic in Los Angeles) were involved at the time. In an almost "oh, by the way" manner, he quickly brought up a collaborative relationship they had recently developed with an L.A.-based organization concerning the issue of sex trafficking in the U.S.
"In the U.S." Those words hung in the air, almost as if I could see them right in front of me. Until that point (and this is not something I'm proud of), I considered trafficking to be a Latin, Eastern European, Asian, African issue. I had always been saddened by the trafficking stories I'd heard from those parts of the world, but had never really known what, if anything, I could do about the problem. But here, in the U.S.? Could that really be possible? I don't remember anything Erwin said after that. All I heard was a still, small voice inside my head telling me, "Go talk to Erwin. Go talk to Erwin." So, grudgingly, I went and talked to Erwin. He told me who to call at Mosaic about the issue. That person then connected me with a lady named Cindy, who connected me with a young man on the West Coast named Adam who turned out to be a gold mine of information about this issue.
Later, a good friend and colleague with whom I had shared my Orlando story flew to California to spend a week with Adam and his team to learn all that he could from them about the issue of trafficking in the United States. At the end of that week, Adam handed my friend all of his team's research concerning this issue and told him to go back to Chattanooga and make a difference on behalf of those victims who suffer at the hands of traffickers. My friend came home, told me all he had learned, and Second Life of Chattanooga was born.
Since then 2 other good friends and colleagues have come along to build and lead this organization with us, this conspiracy of hope, this commitment to creating both awareness and action about this issue everywhere we can in the Greater Chattanooga/Southeast Tennessee region. We have all learned things that have broken our hearts, outraged us, left us wondering at times how humans can treat other humans with such brutality and heartlessness, and on occasion been barely able to hold on to faith in the God we believe created all of humanity to reflect His personhood. We have been forever changed by what we've experienced, what we've learned, the people we've met, the calling we've each heard.
God knows that we've sat through more meetings than we can count, some of them in coffee shops and pubs, some of them in those places where power and influence are most obviously exhibited. We have met with the courageous and the cowardly, we have met with those who have told us that there was no way what we were describing was happening in our area, and we have met with those who have immediately asked, "How can I help?" We have spoken to groups of a few and groups of many, describing just what trafficking is, its scale, how to recognize it and what each of us can do to begin bringing about the end of it.
All of those meetings have led us to a meeting this Thursday, November 18, when along with the wonderful people of Partnership for Families, Children, and Adults in Chattanooga, Tennessee, we will lead a meeting of individuals and groups from law enforcement, the judicial system, and the social justice and advocacy arena, as we begin the work of forming a coalition that is specifically dedicated to ending all forms of human trafficking in the Greater Chattanooga/Southeast Tennessee region. It has taken almost four years to get us to this point. At the same time, it feels like my true involvement in this work is just beginning.
Had I known all that was ahead for myself and others that February day in 2007, I might have ignored the voice telling me to go talk to Erwin. God knows I have heard all kinds of voices since then. There have been voices of unbelief, outrage, heartbreak, courage, voices of compassion and generosity. I have also heard voices of hope, even when hope seemed the most ridiculous possible response. All of these voices continue to both call me and drive me. Most of all I hear the voice of One who said that He came, "...to proclaim freedom for the prisoners...to set the oppressed free."
I hear voices. I bet you hear them too.
I was in Orlando at the invitation of a friend, Alex McManus, who was hosting a conference dedicated to helping leaders more fully discover what it means to become fully human, especially as an aspect of knowing and following Jesus. I was greatly enjoying myself, surrounded by friends from around the country, as well as beginning to flex mental muscles that had seemed to atrophy over the previous few years. I was enjoying being challenged through both one-on-one and small-group conversations, as well as the words of those invited to speak during the 2-day event.
The main speaker for the event was Alex's brother Erwin, someone who has always challenged me to think more deeply and through a wider visionary lens. In the late afternoon of February 8, Erwin was wrapping up the event by talking about some of the things in which he and his faith community (Mosaic in Los Angeles) were involved at the time. In an almost "oh, by the way" manner, he quickly brought up a collaborative relationship they had recently developed with an L.A.-based organization concerning the issue of sex trafficking in the U.S.
"In the U.S." Those words hung in the air, almost as if I could see them right in front of me. Until that point (and this is not something I'm proud of), I considered trafficking to be a Latin, Eastern European, Asian, African issue. I had always been saddened by the trafficking stories I'd heard from those parts of the world, but had never really known what, if anything, I could do about the problem. But here, in the U.S.? Could that really be possible? I don't remember anything Erwin said after that. All I heard was a still, small voice inside my head telling me, "Go talk to Erwin. Go talk to Erwin." So, grudgingly, I went and talked to Erwin. He told me who to call at Mosaic about the issue. That person then connected me with a lady named Cindy, who connected me with a young man on the West Coast named Adam who turned out to be a gold mine of information about this issue.
Later, a good friend and colleague with whom I had shared my Orlando story flew to California to spend a week with Adam and his team to learn all that he could from them about the issue of trafficking in the United States. At the end of that week, Adam handed my friend all of his team's research concerning this issue and told him to go back to Chattanooga and make a difference on behalf of those victims who suffer at the hands of traffickers. My friend came home, told me all he had learned, and Second Life of Chattanooga was born.
Since then 2 other good friends and colleagues have come along to build and lead this organization with us, this conspiracy of hope, this commitment to creating both awareness and action about this issue everywhere we can in the Greater Chattanooga/Southeast Tennessee region. We have all learned things that have broken our hearts, outraged us, left us wondering at times how humans can treat other humans with such brutality and heartlessness, and on occasion been barely able to hold on to faith in the God we believe created all of humanity to reflect His personhood. We have been forever changed by what we've experienced, what we've learned, the people we've met, the calling we've each heard.
God knows that we've sat through more meetings than we can count, some of them in coffee shops and pubs, some of them in those places where power and influence are most obviously exhibited. We have met with the courageous and the cowardly, we have met with those who have told us that there was no way what we were describing was happening in our area, and we have met with those who have immediately asked, "How can I help?" We have spoken to groups of a few and groups of many, describing just what trafficking is, its scale, how to recognize it and what each of us can do to begin bringing about the end of it.
All of those meetings have led us to a meeting this Thursday, November 18, when along with the wonderful people of Partnership for Families, Children, and Adults in Chattanooga, Tennessee, we will lead a meeting of individuals and groups from law enforcement, the judicial system, and the social justice and advocacy arena, as we begin the work of forming a coalition that is specifically dedicated to ending all forms of human trafficking in the Greater Chattanooga/Southeast Tennessee region. It has taken almost four years to get us to this point. At the same time, it feels like my true involvement in this work is just beginning.
Had I known all that was ahead for myself and others that February day in 2007, I might have ignored the voice telling me to go talk to Erwin. God knows I have heard all kinds of voices since then. There have been voices of unbelief, outrage, heartbreak, courage, voices of compassion and generosity. I have also heard voices of hope, even when hope seemed the most ridiculous possible response. All of these voices continue to both call me and drive me. Most of all I hear the voice of One who said that He came, "...to proclaim freedom for the prisoners...to set the oppressed free."
I hear voices. I bet you hear them too.
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