The Hope of Change

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” 

Psalm 19:1

Peggy and I took a couple of days to enjoy the fall colors and to spend some quiet time alone in the north woods. I found myself getting lost in a book I was reading.  The author made a statement that caught my attention, “as we all know, God never changes.”  What struck me was how much I don’t believe it.  

God never changes?  If the psalmist is right, “the skies proclaim the work of his hands,” then creation tells a totally different story.

Outside our cabin leaves were changing color before our very eyes.  I looked out over a lake and a landscape radically changed by glaciers.  Beyond the veil of grey clouds hovering over us, a universe was spinning in a constant state of change.  Forget the big picture stuff, all I had to do was look in the mirror.  I am changing, getting older every day.  

At St. Luke, Amanda and I have been teaching about the different ways God has pursued us.  How God has spoken to us through prophets, priests and kings.  Change was at the core of God coming to dwell among us.  And, just when people were beginning to understand him, Jesus was gone, ascended into heaven.  

Yes, God’s purpose does not change.  Yes, God’s power and authority does not change.  But saying God never changes feels more like our yearning to make God like us.  We don’t want to change, so we don’t want God to change as well.

I was taught that history is doomed to repeat itself.  When I was younger I thought this a profound and sad truth.  In my older age, I’ve begun to realize it is no more profound than calling the sky blue.  History repeats itself because we are unchanging. 

Change is an unrelenting force that confronts us against our will.  It stresses us out and leaves us fearing the unknown future that follows it.  While I ache for all who struggle to cope with change, my heart is grounded in it.  Our most profound encounters with God come when we invite God to change us. 

I think change is the ultimate expression of God’s power.  Our hope and salvation comes from God changing his mind on what we deserve.  God invites us to be born again, to change our hearts, to allow God to create something new within us.  

Isn’t it funny how we struggle to deal with personal change, yet discover a sense of awe in the changing color of leaves each fall.  Heaven and earth declare the glory of God.  The glory is found when the old us dies away and new life emerges.  It is the change that produces hope.  I hope and pray you can open your heart to change, to discover something new in Christ.

The Freedom of Silence

One evening as I drove home from work, I saw the setting sun blazing bright orange through the tall pines.  It looked like a fire burning deep within the woods.  My heart was restless that evening. A silent void had found its way into my soul and it needed some healing.  Memories of Pastor Bob quoting Elizabeth Barrett Browning came rushing to my thoughts,

Earth’s crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries

Had it not been so cold, I would have taken off my shoes and pursued the flame.  It just felt like it had the potential to be a burning bush experience. 

Every evening since, I look for that fire burning.  Hoping that I might actually find a special encounter with God in the woods of Newport, MN.  I don’t need the miracle as much as I need to hear the voice of God say, I have seen the misery of my people…” (Ex. 3:7)  I do hear those words when I read scripture, sing hymns and pray.  But just once I would like to hear God speak them directly to me.  It might help them stick deeper into my soul. 

God came to Moses because God saw the misery of Israel.  It was a misery forced on them by Pharaoh.  The misery I see around me and seek relief from is different.  It is the inescapable misery of a bondage freely placed on ourselves.  A bondage where silence causes panic.  Sabbath rest leads to feelings of worthlessness and time on the internet produces a sense emptiness.  

Technology cultivates a loneliness that often goes unperceived. Computers allow us the ability to feel productive when in truth we are often just filling time with idle activity.  It helps us escape an in-depth look into our souls.  We are afraid of finding that silent void deep within us because we’re not convinced there is a cure. Staying “busy” avoids the issue altogether.

Lord, you see the misery of your people, but can you save us from ourselves?    

My heart yearns for koinonia.  The Koinonia Community of my youth.  The place where every day ended in the meditative silence of a Taize prayer service.  I miss the stillness, reflection and peace of a disciplined community prayer life.  Koinonia is also a Greek word meaning a special communion or community with God.  My heart yearns for that koinonia as well.  

Silence makes it impossible to quiet the thoughts and struggles that torments our souls. Silence in worship makes it impossible to keep Christ out of those areas we don’t want him to go.  But silence in worship with others, reminds us we are not alone.  Together we discover a burning bush - that God still speaks, I have seen the misery of my people and Christ still meets us with freedom.

The problem is silence still makes most us feel uncomfortable both in and outside of a sanctuary.  I pray we can discover a way to embrace a spiritual experience we do not want, but need.  The freedom of it feels so good.

What Do You See?

The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. 1 Sam. 16:7

A couple of Sundays ago I preached a sermon I really enjoyed.  Not sure how people received it, but I enjoyed giving it.  In the sermon I suggested quantum mechanics and string theory might provide an image of God. I wasn’t trying to prove God or disprove science. I was merely suggesting, that God, at least the activity of God we confess, is mathematically possible.  

Researching the sermon I came across a quote from Robert Anton Wilson, “We are looking at reality from the view point of our own reality.”  I found this quote to be very revealing of our culture in many ways. Specifically, how it views the church.  People will see what they want to see.

Look at this picture of the Cathedral of St. Paul. What do you see? Those who do not like the church may see money wasted on a grand building while the poor suffer.  They might see clergy abuse, hypocrisy, and oppression.  A person who does not like the Christian faith or Catholicism, most likely will see a hundred things in this image to support their hatred or dislike.

I’m fascinated by what you cannot see.  I am standing on 7th Ave on an extremely cold night.  On the right side of this picture, just past the bus stop, is the Catholic Charities Center of St. Paul and Minneapolis.  It’s in a very nondescript building.  A building as plain as the Cathedral is grand.

I have driven down this road many nights since moving to St. Paul.  It typically is full of poorer people walking the street.  But not this night, this night they have found shelter in the church.   When we choose to see the church’s faults, of which there are many, we lose our ability to see its blessings.  Serving those at risk and in need has always been the fabric of our mission in Christ - Catholic or Protestant.

Robert Anton Wilson was a free thinker who loved discord and hated the church.  He was born in a Methodist hospital because it provided his mother affordable healthcare.  He received a free education at a Catholic school.  But he chose not to see that aspect of the church.

The Cathedral of St. Paul stands on the boundary between extreme wealth and extreme poverty.  It serves both sides of that boundary in different ways.  If it fails to minister to either side of that boundary, it fails in its mission.  The structure dominates the St. Paul landscape.  It faces the Minnesota State Capitol reminding me that the Church needs to be engaged in politics as well as sermon preparation.  Most of all, it never escapes my view.  The building reminds me that God is firmly planted in all things and in all people.  God is working through me and the atheist, through the wealthy and the poor, through every living creature and thing.  

What or who do you see at work in your life?  And, how does it shape your heart?