Too Busy?

If you are a fisherman in the days of Jesus you are busy. You have to wake early, move your boat out into the water, sail out, throw nets, bring nets in, repeat as often as you can or need. Sail back to shore to get to market in time, get fish prepared, sell the fish. collect money, wash nets and upkeep your boat. Go to sleep in order to wake and repeat. Fishermen are busy people. They do not need another thing to do, and yet, the call of Jesus comes. Jesus is invasive and intrusive. "Follow me." The call does not take into consideration what you are doing or what your schedule is. The call does not matter if you are busy or not, the call comes regardless if you have caught enough food for the day. Jesus' call in our lives it not easy, comfortable or convenient.

[from Jason Valendy's Blog: Be the Change You Wish to See in the World.]

Concerning Miracles

“It’s about Fern,” [Mrs. Arable] explained. “Fern spends entirely too much time in the Zuckermans’ barn. It doesn’t seem normal. She sits on a milk stool in a corner of the barn cellar, near the pigpen, and watches animals, hour after hour. She just sits and listens.” Dr. Dorian leaned back and closed his eyes. “How enchanting!” he said. “It must be real nice and quiet down there. Homer has some sheep, hasn’t he?” “Yes,” said Mrs. Arable. “But it all started with that pig we let Fern raise on a bottle. She calls him Wilbur. Homer bought the pig, and ever since it left our place, Fern has been going to her uncle’s to be near it.”

“I’ve been hearing things about that pig,” said Dr. Dorian, opening his eyes. “They say he’s quite a pig.” “Have you heard about the words that appeared in the spider’s web?” asked Mrs. Arable nervously. “Yes,” replied the doctor. “Well, do you understand it?” asked Mrs. Arable. “Understand what?” "Do you understand how there could be any writing in a spider's web?" Oh, no," said Dr. Dorian. "I don't understand it. But for that matter I don't understand how a spider learned to spin a web in the first place. When the words appeared, everyone said they were a miracle. But nobody pointed out that the web itself is a miracle." “What’s miraculous about a spider’s web?” said Mrs. Arable. “I don’t see why you say a web is a miracle – it’s just a web.” “Ever try to spin one?” asked Dr. Dorian. Mrs. Arable shifted uneasily in her chair. “No,” she replied. “But I can crochet a doily and a can knit a sock.” “Sure,” said the doctor. “But somebody taught you, didn’t they?” “My mother taught me.” “Well, you taught a spider? A young spider knows how to spin a web without any instructions from anybody. Don’t you regard that as a miracle?” “I suppose so,” said Mrs. Arable. Still, I don’t understand how those words got into the web. I don’t understand it, and I don’t like what I can’t understand.”

“None of us do," said Dr. Dorian, sighing. "I'm a doctor. Doctors are supposed to understand everything. But I don't understand everything, and I don't intend to let it worry me.”

[an excerpt from Charlotte's Web by E.B. White]

God At Work

In Baja, the Mexican peninsula just off the southern tip of California, strange things are happening with whales.

Ever since first known by humans, whales have occupied a vast landscape in our mythology, culture, and practical life. Researchers have discovered that whales' brains, like human brains, hold large concentrations of what are called "spindle cells." These cells in human brains are known as the cells that make us human. They play a role in higher intelligences like self-awareness, sense of compassion, and language expression. Whales, however, evolved these cells 15 million years before human beings did.

There is just something about whales; we've revered them, been in awe of them, sensed a deep mystery in their astonishing intelligence, and slaughtered them nearly to the point of extinction. Over the centuries whales learned that human beings couldn't to be trusted. They became
fiercely protective of their young in our presence; have learned to avoid places where humans are found; and fight back powerfully when threatened.

But off the coast of Baja California, grey whales are now swimming up to boats, traveling along side these boats for miles on end, inviting people to lean over and scratch them, and literally introducing their young offspring to awestruck onlookers. Hundred-ton whales dawdle beside these boats and actively seek eye contact with anyone who dares to look them directly in the
eye. The increase in this behavior relates directly to the general end of commercial whaling. People who witness these interactions - who have looked into the enormous, soul-filled eyes of a grey whale - come away from such contacts, as they report, changed forever.

I have a number of wildlife biologist friends. Folks like this who study wildlife strongly resist the human tendency to "anthropomorphize" wild animals. They say that comparing wild animal behavior and consciousness to that of human beings, is a big mistake. Yet Toni Frohoff, a wildlife biologist and an expert on whales, says after studying these astonishing interactions, "I'd put my professional career on the line and... say that these whales are... actively seeking and engaging in a form of communication." She asserts, as a trained scientist, that whales clearly
show evidence of emotions like joy, anger, frustration, and distress, as well as the ability to be self-aware, use tools, and form complex friendships and protective alliances. In her careful, scientific way of speaking, she offers the view that this new behavior on the part of these
whales is - get ready for this - an act of forgiveness.

Forgiveness: this is God at work. A scientist might not put it that way, but I have no difficulty in believing that this is so. This is how vast, and awesome, and united God's house is. We cannot build a house big enough or grand enough to contain this kind of wonder. This is God saying, "Not only are all people my children; all of my creatures are my children. And if you don't believe me, get on a boat and float out into a lagoon in Baja; look one of my grey whale children right in the eye. Experience that whale coming into a new understanding of who you are; that you are, as she is, a child with whom I am well pleased."

[from a sermon by Alan Parker, Pastor of the United Church of Craftsbury (UCC); posted on PRCL-L@LISTSERV.LOUISVILLE.EDU #2009-567]

There's More Than One Way to Skin a Cat!

In Evanston, Illinois, there were a growing number of homeless people. A Baptist church in a wealthy suburb of Chicago decided to open its doors as a shelter and some Evanston church leaders were considering doing the same.

When the Evanston city council heard about this, it moved to pass a new zoning ordinance forbidding the use of churches as shelters for the homeless. The organizer of one shelter project had no complaint. Rather than opening up a shelter for the homeless, they decided to host an all-night prayer vigil to which all were welcome. Participants in the prayer vigil received pillows and blankets along with bulletins and hymnals.

[from Aha!!! July-September 1999, vol. 8, #4 by Denise Griebler]

The People Who Could Fly

There is a story that I am told has been passed from mouth to ear somewhere along the palmetto dunes of South Carolina, a story passed down from West Africa to the North Atlantic. It is the story, a unique story, of the people who could fly. Depending upon whom you’re talking to, it is a little bit different, depending upon who is telling the tale.

The story takes place in St. Johns Island, just off the coast of South Carolina, as Africans who had been mislabeled slaves are toiling in the hot sun. They are working so very hard to pick cotton. There is one young woman and beside her is her small boy, maybe six or seven. She’s working in the fields and she has such incredible dexterity that she is able to pick cotton with her right hand and caress the forehead of her child with the left. But eventually, exhausted by working so hard in the fields, she falls down from the weight and the pressure of being—in the words of Dubois—“problem and property.” Her boy attempts to wake her very quickly, knowing that if the slave drivers were to see her the punishment would be swift and hard.

He tries to shake his mother, and as he’s trying to shake her, an old man comes over to him. An old man that the Africans called Preacher and Prophet, but the slave drivers called Old Devil. He looks up at the old man and says, “Is it time? Is it time?”

The old man smiles and looks at the boy and says, “Yes!” And he bends down ands whispers into the ear of the woman who was now upon the ground and says these words: “Cooleebah! Cooleebah!”

At that moment the woman gets up with such incredible dignity. She stands as a queen and looks down at her son, grasps his hand and begins to look toward heaven. All of a sudden they begin to fly. The slave drivers rush over to this area where she has stopped work and they see this act of human flight and are completely confused. They do not know what to do! And during their confusion, the old man rushes around to all the other Africans and begins to tell them, “Cooleebah! Cooleebah!”

When they hear the word, they all begin to fly. Can you imagine? The dispossessed flying? Can you imagine the disempowered flying? Three fifths of a person flying? The diseased flying? The dislocated flying? They are all taking flight! And at that moment the slave drivers grab the old man and say, “Bring them back!”

They beat him, and with blood coming down his cheek, he just smiles at them. They say to him, “Please bring them back!”

And he says, “I can’t.”

They say, “Why not?”

He said, “Because the word is already in them and since the word is already in them, it cannot be taken from them.”

The old man had a word from West Africa, cooleebah, a word that means God. It had been placed into the heart of these displaced Africans and now they had dignity and they were flying.

Ah, is it not the job of the church and the preacher? No, we are not called to make people shout. No, we are not called to make people dance. No, we are not called to have our bank accounts fly. No, we are called to make sure that the people of God fly! Fly from breakdown to break through. Fly from hurt to healing. Fly from heartache to being mended to a whole person. We are called as a people to ensure that those who have been marginalized have a word in their spirit that allows them to fly. And the question is: are we a part of a church, are we a part of a ministry that causes people to fly?

[from the sermon, "The People Who Could Fly" by Otis Moss III

Dying Church - Living God

Sometime in the early 1970s, the president of AT&T called all his managers
into a large room for an emergency meeting. Attendance was mandatory.
Speculation ran high as to what announcement would be made. Perhaps a
breakthrough in technology. Perhaps a downsizing. Perhaps ...... They could
tell by the grim look on his face that something extremely serious was about
to be revealed. When all were seated, the president went to the podium and
said, "The telephone as you know it no longer exists." Muffled giggles
rippled through the room. What game was this? They all knew he was wrong.
They had used phones that morning. He continued: "Anyone who does not
believe that state-ment can leave this room right now and pick up your final
paycheck on the way out of the building." Sober silence prevailed. No one
left. They all just stared. "Your job today is to invent one."

He broke the group up into small teams and they spent the rest of the time
coming up with a new phone. Some people wanted one with no cord...... in the
car, or to carry around.... to know when another call was coming in.......to
be able to forward calls to another number, to see the person on the other
end, to send other kinds of messages on it. About 60 items that
distinguished the telephone they invented. Many are now the features that we
take for granted, from call-waiting to individual digital phones, and the
list has not yet completed.

In the same manner, at the beginning of the third mil-lennium, we come to
church one morning for the Sunday service and, much to our shocked dismay,
we find a vacant lot with a little note tacked on a piece of tattered
plaster out front. It is written in Hebrew and it is the same note left on
every vacant lot of every former church building in the world, from
cathedral to clapboard. Translated, it says, "The church you have always
known no longer exists; it is gone - walls, pews, altar, and assumptions."
The tomb is empty. "How can this be?" we ask in abject puzzlement. In the
background, we hear God's laughter saying, "Given the world the way it is,
given the devastating problems and the incredible possibilities opening up
for the first time in history, given what you now know to be true in the
world, the real question is, 'How can it NOT be?' " Then God looks us right
in the eye and says, "Make a new one."

[from: Dying Church - Living God, by Chuck Meyers pg. 37-39]

The Problem of the Homeless

In New York City, there stood a beautiful apartment building. The tenants were understandably proud of their building: they all had fabulous views of the city, the lobby was always impeccable, and their doormen kept the front sidewalk in pristine condition. The tenants lived there very happily for many years. And then one day, the building next door began an extensive renovation project. The scaffolding that was installed proved to be a wonderful shelter from the elements. Soon, the tenants noticed that every night around six o’clock, a group of about twenty people gathered to build sleeping quarters under the scaffolding out of cardboard boxes. In the morning, apartment maintenance men would remove the boxes and the trash and hose down the sidewalk. the homeless people then dispersed until 6 o’clock the next evening.
Soon, co-op meetings were being held to discuss “the problem of the homeless.” “the homeless are dirty!” one tenant cried. “They get drunk and throw up on the sidewalk!” “They’re bums!” said another - “One even asked me for money the other day!” “They could be deranged,” said a young couple. The consensus was quickly reached: the homeless were dangerous.

A woman named Mary Ann stood up to speak. “I’ve watched these homeless,” she said. “I’ve seen outreach counselors from the homeless coalition speaking with them about other options, but I notice it’s the same people who return night after night. They choose to remain here. Perhaps we should realize that they are our neighbors now. They seem to be a pretty quiet group, and I haven’t seen any signs of violence among them.”

An awkward silence followed. Then the discussion began again: “I’ll speak to the building manager,” one woman said. “Perhaps if we stopped cleaning up after them, they’d leave.” “I think we should call the police,” said another man. “We could tell them that the homeless have been threatening us. Maybe they can force them to move.” “Where would they go?” said Mary Ann. “To someone else’s street!” several voices replied.

The meeting ended. But several days later, Mary Ann overheard a conversation in the lobby. “We need to talk to Mary Ann again about the homeless,” a woman said. “I think she’s feeding them.”

[from Spiritual Literacy by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat]

Feed Your Wolf

There is a story about some people who lived in a beautiful village in Italy in the 13th century. They were understandably proud of their little village, as it was quite an idyllic place to live. But one night a shadow came out of the nearby woods. The shadow prowled the streets. In the morning, a local farmer found that many chickens from his farm had been killed or taken away. The next night, the same thing happened - the time another farmer was the victim. This happened again and again. Finally, an old woman said that she had seen a wolf on the streets at night. The terrified people decided to ask a holy man who had a reputation for being able to talk to animals for help. They sent a delegation to get St. Francis.

They had very specific ideas on what St. Francis should tell the wolf. First, he should prech to the wolf and remind him to obey the commandment about stealing and to follow Christ’s commandment about loving God and neighbors. And then, just in case, since a wolf is, after all, a wolf, he should tell the wolf to move to someone else’s village.

Francis went into the forest to meet the strange shadow, addressing it as “Brother Wolf.” Then he returned to the town square. “My good people,” he said, “the answer is very simple. You must feed our wolf.” The people were furious, especially with the suggestion that this uninvited beast in their midst was somehow to be regarded as “their wolf.” But they did feed it, and the killing stopped.

The Myth of Scarcity - Illustrated by Jake the Dog

I have begun to suspect that the anxiety of our age may even extend to pets.

One night Jake had been impossible in his demands for attention. He must have been feeling insecure about all the other dogs parading by our house, because he would bark at them and then insist on having our undivided attention. He would put his forelegs on my lap and stare meaningfully into my eyes, so that I could see only Jake. His unique breath filled my nostrils so that I could only think of Jake.

Almost as a form of bribery we gave him a rawhide bone to chew on. Our hope was that his attention would be fixed on the bone and he would leave us alone. For a few minutes that was the case. But after awhile Jake pacing around the room. Debbie and I were fascinated. At one point he placed the bone behind a pillow on the love seat. Moments later he picked the bone up and continued wandering around the house.

Eventually we realized that Jake was trying to find a place to safely store the bone. And he was becoming more agitated as his search continued. Nowhere in the house was suitable. He began to whine as he carried the bone from room to room. And his pacing and whining were worse than his meaningful stares.

Finally Debbie took the bone away from him and stored it in the cupboard. And that seemed to satisfy Jake, who by now was exhausted.

Jake illustrates the power of the myth of scarcity by becoming more anxious when he is given a bone. Now he has to find a place to hide and protect that bone in case a marauding dog should enter our house and look behind the pillow on the love seat and take Jake's bone. Or the myth convinces Jake that he will never again receive a bone from us and therefore this one must be protected at all costs even to the point of giving up the joy of chewing the bone.

Scholar and theologian Walter Brueggemann in an essay entitled "The Truth of Abundance" argues that because the basis of the myth of scarcity is anxiety, not economic analysis, the best way to combat it is with a different view of reality: one he calls a lyric of abundance. The lyric of abundance begins with reflecting on the nature of the God we worship.

[from a sermon by Phil Peterson - Where Your Treasure Is (The Lyric of Abundance)]