I learned that the cab driver who drove me to the airport had recently moved to the states from Ethiopia. We talked about that for a while, and then he asked what I was doing in Portland, Oregon. I told him I was participating in a conference of Episcopal Communicators. I found my answer required some unpacking, not only because he did not know English well and I did not know his native language at all. I told him I was a priest. I told him I was giving some talks on how we share our news. He asked: “So you’re a missionary?” My knee jerk reaction, offered to someone raised in Africa, a region subject to the often painful collision of imperial and Christian expansion, was simple: “Well, not really.” When those words came out of my mouth, as so often happens, I wished I could have recalled them. I found myself thinking that I should have said something like this: “Yes I am.” Or maybe even: “Aren’t we all?”

In a couple different settings, recent conversations have gotten me thinking about what it means to be a disciple and what it means to be an apostle, where those two overlap, where they differ. If I were king, I might find every place where the word “disciple” appears in the New Testament and, for a season, change it to the word “student.” That may not capture fully the idea of a disciple (one who follows), but it does help us realize that in the journey of faith, we are called to be learners all the time. Wherever we are on the spiritual continuum, there is more.

The word “apostle” suggests something different. It’s about what we do with what we’re learning. It connotes someone who has been sent, someone given a mission. Anyone who answers that call (your mission, should you accept…) could well be called a missionary. I believe that we can all see ourselves in that great company.

When Jesus met with his disciples, after his resurrection and before his return to heaven, he told them: “As the Father has sent me, so send I you.” I’ve reflected on that phrase: “As the Father has sent me.” I found myself thinking of how Jesus was sent to the world: to change it, to bring healing, to say that what the world often considers wretched, Jesus declares to be blessed. (Proper attribution: that’s a phrase I heard in a sermon given by our Presiding Bishop at this conference.) Jesus was sent to help us know and show grace, to reveal what is sometimes hard for us to see or believe, that love is at the center. That’s the way we are sent into the world. To do that kind of thing.

That idea of mission, that apostolic vision surrounds us in the Christian community. If it’s your tradition to refer to the eucharist as a mass, know that the word mass (in Latin, missa) really has to do with this idea of mission, of being sent. For those reasons, some have argued that the most important part of the eucharist is the dismissal (Note again the root of that word: missa) when we are sent into the world to love and serve the Lord. Many churches have put this sign over the exit: “The worship is over. The service begins.”

I don’t think we can be too expansive about this. Anyone made in the image of God (i.e., everyone) has the potential to reflect that likeness, and to go into the world to share and show grace. Everyone can engage in that apostolic ministry. Everyone can be a missionary. I know the term has baggage, with coercive connotations. Maybe you can simply see yourself as part of the Jesus movement, listening as much as talking, finding out what God is up to in the neighborhood, bringing with you news of grace.

With all that in mind, how might you be an apostle this Monday?

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

Jesus told his disciples: Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.

-John 20:21

This past weekend, I attended a conference called Missional Voices. It was great. It was ably organized by a group of seminarians, and it left me with great hope for the future, as we explored new ways of thinking about church. I learned a lot, as we talked about the mission of God. I wonder what you think that mission might be.

One priest serving in a southern city told a story about his community. One of the members of the congregation made his home on the streets, sleeping near a bridge in the downtown area. The priest had noticed that this guy was missing from the church for a number of weeks. When the guy showed up again for worship, and they came to the exchange of the peace, the priest greeted him and asked where he had been. The man explained that one night, two guys had thrown him over the edge of the bridge and taken all his stuff. He had been in the hospital recovering from the fall. The priest inquired more about the incident. In the course of the conversation, the man said that the two guys who had thrown him over the edge of the bridge were actually attending the service that night. He wouldn’t tell the priest who they were. He thought the priest would make the two guys leave. The homeless gentleman explained that those two guys needed to stay. They needed Jesus. The priest told us the story to report that he learned something that night, something important about Jesus, something important about the mission of God.

According to the Prayer Book, the mission of the church has to do with reconciliation. Specifically, we are told that the mission of the church is to restore all people to unity with God and others. But the point of this conference was that this reconciling work is primarily God’s mission in the world, ours by extension, our as instruments of God’s work. Story after story reminded me that God’s mission can be fulfilled in many ways. It can be the work of the church, occasionally even the clergy. Who knew? It can be fulfilled by people in the church who are not the leaders in the church. It can be fulfilled by people who have nothing to do with the church. Each one of us created in the image of God, each one of us with a God-shaped space inside us, can do this work. Ultimately, it is God’s work, God’s mission.

Jesus knew this, and taught about it in the parable of the Good Samaritan. In that story, the person who carries out the mission of God (i.e., healing a man who had been attacked and was then ignored by the really religious people of the day) is the Samaritan. He was the outsider, the guy who knew nothing of liturgical tradition, had never been confirmed, had never been to seminary, was not a pledging member of any parish, didn’t know the creed. You get the point.

I come away from this conference mindful of the ways I am called to participate in the mission of God, how I might be a reconciling influence, bringing wholeness where there is brokenness. Lord knows, there’s a sufficiency of brokenness surrounding us. I come away with a sense of commission. How on this Monday morning might I participate in reconciling work?

I come away from the conference mindful of the ways that the church (its members, including clergy like me) often work at cross-purposes with the mission of God, building walls that divide instead of opening doors, setting up barriers to healing and wholeness instead of tearing them down, focusing on judgment more than mercy, on being right more than being righteous. Let’s just call this a growth opportunity.

Mostly, I come away interested in the ways that I might learn from unlikely teachers like this homeless guy tossed over the edge of the bridge. His story teaches about grace and forgiveness. He makes me hopeful that in moments when I find meaning and identity in resentment, I can remember his forgiving spirit, and in some small struggling way fulfill the mission of God.

-Jay Sidebotham

 

One of the highlights for me was a talk by Christian Kassoff, who leads a congregation in California that focuses on a ministry called Laundrylove. That ministry carries out the mission of God, building community by helping people in need realize the simple (but for some elusive) dignity of having clean clothes. 

 

He told the story of his own conversion, as he moved from a life challenged by substance abuse and a criminal record to leadership in his church. Here’s how he described it:

I used to be a hopeless dope fiend. Now I’m a dopeless hope fiend.

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

Play ball

Baseball teaches us, or has taught most of us, how to deal with failure. We learn at a very young age that failure is the norm in baseball, and precisely because we have failed, we hold in high regard those who fail less often – those who hit safely in one out of three chances and become star players. I also find it fascinating that baseball, alone in sport, considers errors to be part of the game, part of its rigorous truth.
-Francis T. Vincent, Jr., Commissioner of Baseball

Maybe this is why baseball is so popular among clergy. It’s helpful to recognize that errors are part of the game, on field or off. The idea is central to our faith. St. Paul put it this way: All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. For me, it finds expression in the promise made at baptism. We promise that whenever we sin, we will repent and turn to the Lord. It doesn’t say “if ever.” It says “whenever.” Maybe that’s why both Navajo and Persian weavers always include at least one mistake when creating their rugs.

How exactly is that good news? For starters, our tradition holds that there is always a way back. So when my favorite editor finds grammatical errors in this weekly message (which she often does), that’s okay. When a reader writes me about last week’s post, indicating the Paul McCartney didn’t write “Let it be” about the Blessed Virgin, but about his own mother, that’s okay. I can learn from that. It’s about progress, not perfection. We embrace the rigorous truth that we won’t always get it right. And how might that be helpful this Monday morning?

First, maybe we can lighten up and recognize that God is not sitting at the divine laptop, waiting for us to mess up, ready to press the “smite” button (an image stolen from a Gary Larson cartoon). Recent reflections at church on forgiveness highlighted the point that often forgiveness begins with forgiving ourselves, letting the hot air out of the hubris balloon that imagines we can always get it right. (Clergy often gravitate toward those balloons.)

Second, it might help us give each other a break. So if someone lets us down, or does us wrong, or cuts us off in traffic, or wittingly or unwittingly breaks our heart, we can work at forgiveness. It is work. Spiritual work. It is not a matter of denying the hurt, or sanctioning the offense, but admitting that we are all just trying to figure out how to play ball.

Third, it may help us focus on how absolutely dependent we are on grace, on the premise and promise that ultimately we are accepted. That is not because we have it all together or always get it right. It’s certainly not a reflection of our ability to bat a spiritual 1000. We are accepted because of the goodness of God’s creation, of which we are a dearly beloved part. We are accepted because God loves us. That love is at the heart of creation.

I’m working at accepting that. Some days, I do better than others. Maybe I’m batting 300. But we can still swing for the fences. Or as St. Paul put it, as he reflected on his own spiritual journey, which had it’s up and downs: Beloved…this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.

So today, play ball.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

Let it be

It happened this year, and apparently it won’t happen again until the year 2157.

That’s the next time that the Feast of the Annunciation (March 25) and Good Friday coincide. It’s rare that the story of Mary visited by the angel Gabriel occurs on the same day when the story of Jesus’ death is told. Both stories need air-time, so in the wisdom of people in charge of calendar stuff, the observance of the Feast of the Annunciation was transferred to today, April 4.

This Monday morning, let’s see what the story of the Annunciation has to tell us to help us through today. It’s been beautifully rendered by artists over the centuries, with vivid imagination of what an angel might look like. Artists have also rendered Mary’s complicated reaction. For insight into that reaction, read the story in Luke 1:26-38. It says that when the angel showed up, Mary was much perplexed and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. No kidding. The angel tells her not to be afraid, a common reaction whenever one of these angels shows up. Easier said than done. Mary asks: “How can this be?” The angel tells her nothing will be impossible with God. And Mary responds with words that have inspired many (including Paul McCartney): “Here am I, the servant of the Lord, let it be with me according to your word.”

The story told in Luke’s gospel is one of many call stories in the scriptures. Like many other Bible characters who hear some sort of call, there is a sense that the person receiving the call might wonder whether the call is a wrong number. Moses did his best to weasel out of God’s call to confront Pharaoh, claiming he was no good at public speaking. Nice try. Samuel had to get the call three times before it sunk in. Isaiah said he was a person of unclean lips. Jeremiah said “I’m just a boy.” When called, Peter told Jesus to depart from him because he was a sinful man. You get the idea.

But there’s something about Mary. For all her pondering and perplexity, she says “yes” to God. A friend and fine preacher once offered a sermon in which she speculated on whether the angel visited other Nazareth girls first. She wondered if others said no, and so the angel moved on to the next house. Maybe that is what Mary models for us, amid the perplexity and fear, to say yes.

And make no mistake. Saying yes has its cost. I have two friends who are both professors who toured Europe with their 8 year old daughter. After visiting many churches and museums, the young girl wanted to know why Mary was never smiling. An astute observation, for the Annunciation foreshadows Good Friday. This year’s coincidence is no coincidence. In Luke 2, aged Simeon told young Mary: A sword will pierce your heart. There was cost with the promise.

But isn’t that the way it is in our lives. At all the crossroads, at every fork in the road, whenever we hear a call, or think we hear a call, there is cost and promise. That’s the message of the Annunciation. That’s the message of Good Friday. That’s a word for us this Monday morning. Can we say “yes” to what God is calling us to do and be, whether that’s a big task or, more likely, a small act of kindness, reflective of the grace we have received. Let it be.

-Jay Sidebotham

The Collect for the Feast of the Annunciation

Pour your grace into our hearts, O Lord, that we who have known the incarnation of your Son Jesus Christ, announced by an angel to the Virgin Mary, may by his cross and passion be brought to the glory of his resurrection; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

The Song of Mary: The Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55)

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.

He has mercy on those who fear him
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.

He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.

He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children forever.

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.