What’s your point?

Today, June 25th, the church observes the Feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist, one of the most eccentric characters in the Bible. And that’s saying something because there are a lot of eccentric characters in the Bible. Happy birthday, John!

We celebrate his birthday right near the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. In contrast, we celebrate the birth of Jesus when days are the shortest. I’ve been told that is not accidental. It’s a way for the calendar to preach, reflecting a story told in the Gospel of John. This may only be of interest to church geeks, but here’s the story:

People came to John the Baptist and asked about his relationship with Jesus. There’s some sense that people wondered if John was the one they should follow. Maybe John was the long awaited messiah. In response to the question, John does what he always does. He points beyond himself to Christ. He has this to say about Jesus: He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30)

The calendar acts that out in this simple way. The days that follow John’s birth shorten in length, while the days which follow Jesus’ birth lengthen. I can’t vouch that this is true. They did not consult me in calendar composition. But if it isn’t true, it ought to be. And it makes it worth our while to consider what John’s example means for us this Monday morning.

At one point in the gospels, Jesus described John the Baptist as the greatest person ever born. He doesn’t say that kind of thing about many people. Most of the disciples were quite often knuckleheads. So I’ve wondered what was so great about John the Baptist.

Let me venture this answer. John, a person of remarkable gifts and magnetism, knew who he was and knew who Jesus was. And he knew those two things should not be confused. He was no shrinking violet and he had a powerful ministry. A lot of ego strength for sure, willing to take on the political and religious authorities. It eventually cost him his head.

But he also knew that there was a power, a presence greater than himself. He chose to have his ministry be one of witness and service, preparing the way of Lord, pointing beyond himself to Jesus, to God present among us, and especially present in the suffering of the world.

In the history of Christian art, John the Baptist is often depicted with arm extended, index finger pointing towards Christ, often to Christ on the cross. With that depiction, John the Baptist becomes spiritual coach for each one of us, inviting us to figure out how to do the same. How will our lives point beyond ourselves to God’s presence in the world, meeting the suffering of the world? Asked another way: What’s our point?

Use John the Baptist’s birthday to reflect on your own life. To what does your life point? What might you do this Monday that would direct someone’s attention, maybe someone’s affection towards Christ? Asked another way, where can you point to grace breaking into the world?

-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.

What does God want from us?

What’s our lens?

Years ago, I officiated at the wedding of a wonderful young couple. The groom-to-be was a child of folks in my church. The bride, a confirmed atheist, with no church background, gracefully agreed to a church wedding as concession to her beloved. They were bright, engaging and interested in lots of conversation before their wedding. Our pre-marital counseling sessions led to lively discussions about religion, probing questions aimed in my direction about how faith made sense in today’s world, especially given the hypocrisy of the church (to which, by the way, I could only reply: Guilty as charged).

After the wedding, the couple gave me a gift to remind me of those conversations. It was a book entitled: “The Bible Tells Me So: The Use and Abuse of Scripture.” You can get the point of the book from the Table of Contents. A sampling of chapter titles:

How scripture was used to endorse slavery
How scripture was used to endorse the abolitionist movement
How scripture was used to deny ordination to women
How scripture was used to promote ordination of women
How scripture was used to challenge the environmental movement
How scripture was used to support the environmental movement.

On the cover of the book, a quote from Shakespeare: “Even the devil can quote scripture,” a reference to the temptation of Jesus where Satan and our Lord joust by citing scripture passages. All of this comes to mind because of the way scripture is being used in the heart-wrenching discussion of separating children from their parents on our southern border, a defining moral crisis for all of us if ever our nation faced one.

It raises questions for me, because I’m convinced that engagement with scripture is key to spiritual vitality in individuals and congregations. So how do we read scripture? How can scripture be cited in support of such opposite positions? I suspect each of us develops our own canon within the canon, our own set of scriptures that ratify what we already think, the way we gravitate towards favorite cable news channel. But the marvelous and mysterious mosaic we call the Bible, this scriptural symphony speaks with many voices. It speaks about revenge and about forgiveness. It speaks about taking up a sword and about turning swords into plowshares. Given all that, how does scripture guide us in times like these?

It’s a challenge of an adult faith. Jesus battled over how to read scripture, not only with the devil, but with leaders who sought to use scripture for their own political advantage. (Nothing new under the sun.) In the Sermon on the Mount, he quoted laws of the Hebrew Scripture this way: You have heard that it was said, but I say to you. He expanded on ancient laws in a way that always tilted towards grace, mercy and love. In one confrontation, he told his opponents “You search the scriptures because in them you think you have life. But they are witnesses to me.”

And what is that witness? You heard it in the famous wedding homily: Love is the way. That’s the lens we need as we read scripture. (John Calvin described the scripture as a set of spectacles.) When in doubt, choose the pathway that leads to grace, love, mercy, compassion, forgiveness? Try out this lens: If it ain’t about love, it ain’t about God.

To be clear: For those who use scripture to justify separation of parents from children, the lens seems to me to be tragically obstructed, clouded or cracked. Maybe the lens cap is still on.

The Bible, in all its complexity and contradiction, is a story of grace, God reaching out to us, God reaching out to include those on the margins, persistently, inexorably, so that in the end, love wins.

At a gathering last week over dinner, our group spoke about whether we had ever heard God speak to us. One gentleman talked about his journey of faith. He said he never felt good enough. He recalled at one time offering this simple prayer: “God, I’m not perfect.” He said that as he uttered that prayer, he heard a voice say to him: “It doesn’t matter. I want you.” I find that divine desire throughout the pages of the Bible, said to you and me and all God’s children. All God’s children.

Said another way:
Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so.

-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.

What does God want from us?

It’s a question I’ve asked at various times in my life. Maybe you have asked it as well. Jesus got asked the question. In response, he reached back into the scriptures he knew and said it’s simple but not easy. It’s one thing but really two. It’s about love: love of God and love of neighbor. In quiet time last week, I was reading the psalm du jour and this verse struck me. I’ve read it before, but it caught my attention in a new way. Here it is:

Whoever offers me the sacrifice of thanksgiving honors me. Psalm 50:24

I started kicking around the phrase “sacrifice of thanksgiving.” I remembered that on Sundays, when we offer prayer over bread and wine, we often say that we are offering our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. The more I thought about the phrase, the more paradoxical, perhaps oxymoronic it seemed. How do sacrifice and thanksgiving go together?

Look up sacrifice in the dictionary and it’s not a pretty picture. Verbs and nouns suggest something gets killed. It’s bloody. It’s violent. At best, it’s not a whole lot of fun. Even in baseball, somebody loses so somebody else wins. A dutiful parent or spouse or child speaks of the sacrifice he or she has made. It can at times suggest resentment, a teeth-gritting relationship. Where’s the good news in that?

So think with me about what it means to offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving? Your response, opinion, guess is as good as mine, but here are a couple thoughts:

Maybe it’s intended to have an ironic twist, a paradox for those of us who think we have to earn God’s grace or favor or approval. For all of us spiritual over-achievers, what would it means to say that the only thing we have to give is our thanks? That is all God wants from us. As the psalmist says, God doesn’t need us to bring us a bunch of cows. Those cows already belong to God. What God seeks is an attitude of gratitude.

Maybe there actually is a dimension of sacrifice in thanksgiving. Maybe we are called to sacrifice our own ego, as we recognize that all we have is gift. There’s an element of dying in that, offering our selves, the kind of language Paul used in Galatians when he said “I have been crucified with Christ.” or in the passage from Romans included below. It’s the kind of language we use in baptism that says we die to self in order to arrive at new life.

Maybe we need to scrap dictionary definitions and shift our thinking so that sacrifice doesn’t mean deprivation or suffering or hardship or violence. Maybe it doesn’t meant that we have to kill something, but rather that our sacrifice can be life giving, life affirming. It suggests the holiness that comes with saying thanks, the holy life that comes with living in mindfulness of all good gifts around us.

These are just some random Monday morning thoughts prompted by a familiar phrase that struck me as if I’d not seen it before. Take this week as an occasion to continue to play with the phrase, in your mind and heart and spirit. Find what it means for you to make a sacrifice of thanksgiving. Discover what your offering of gratitude might be this week.

-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.

Sabbath

When I started in ordained ministry (clueless young priest as opposed to clueless aging priest), I sought counsel of a rector I respected, asking how to navigate this new life. The advice as I recall had to do not with work but with not working. He said that he was vigilant in making sure he observed Sabbath each week. Obviously, not Sunday, but another day of rest.

He said it was important because on a weekly basis it reminded him that he was not his work. His identity would be found beyond title or job description. I can’t say I heeded his advice very well throughout my career. (Note major eye-rolls from my family as they read this) I was better in some seasons than others. But his advice came to me yesterday when the readings in church focused on the Sabbath.

Observance of the Sabbath is one of the most important religious institutions in the Hebrew Scriptures. It is noted in the opening verses of the Bible, when after God had completed the work of creation, declaring it to be very good, God rested. Apparently, if that kind of down time was good enough for the Holy One, it’s probably good enough for us. The commandment to observe the Sabbath sits near the top of the list of the Ten Commandments. We’re meant to keep it, observe it. How come?

I think it’s because it says something about who we are, and who God is. Maybe that’s true of all religious institutions, customs, liturgies, scriptures, hymnody, clergy. They are not ends in themselves. They are instruments, signs pointing beyond themselves, intended to remind us of God’s identity and our own.

A sign of my age: I remember a time when Sabbath as religious institution had more buy-in in our culture. A day of rest. No shopping. No movies. No soccer practice. (Acolyte scheduling was definitely easier.) No smart phones or lap tops allowing us to work 24/7. Those days are not coming back, but it seems we’ve lost something. Perhaps what we’ve lost is a window into our own identity, a sense of who we are. Perhaps we’ve lost a sense of who God is, a sense discovered when on a regular basis we stop and recognize a higher power. We are reminded that all is grace.

Jesus spent a lot of time challenging religious institutions of his day. On a day when no work was to be done, Jesus performed miracles. He wasn’t supposed to do that. Was he just trying to shake things up? Maybe. But it seems to me he was reminding people what religion and ritual and spiritual practice are all about. They are occasions, woven into the pattern of our lives, to recall something about who God is, and who we are.

More specifically, they are occasions to recall that God is love, and we are called to show that love. All the time. 24/7. In and through and occasionally in spite of the institutions we set up. The Sabbath (like other religious institutions) is meant to serve the cause of God’s mission in the world. Not vice versa.

What Jesus seems to say about God’s identity revealed in the Sabbath is that showing love and working for healing are way more important than following rules or traditions. And as far as our own identity is concerned, we are meant to be ever open to mercy.

This is not to say that the Sabbath is not important. It is to say that it is not an end in itself. It’s an occasion to know God better, as we see something of God’s identity, and our own. If institutions stand in the way of healing and mercy, they become obstacles not instruments. I fear for the obstacles religious people (clergy like me) put in people’s way.

What does your religious observance, your spiritual practice say about who God is, and who you are? What can we do to make our religious communities, our spiritual lives windows of mercy, instruments of peace, conveyors of grace? How can our institutions, our rules and habits, our liturgies reflect what our Presiding Bishop repeats: If it ain’t about love, it ain’t about God?

-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.

Memorial Day

It’s been said that praying shapes believing. So here’s what I’m wondering on this Monday morning, as our weekend has been extended with a holiday to remember those who, over the centuries, gave their lives in service to the country. What does the prayer for heroic service, found in the Book of Common Prayer and included above, say about what we believe, about how we live our lives as people of faith?

Like many Monday holidays, Memorial Day becomes a day of relaxation and celebration, a day for parties and fun. For some, it’s a day with retail enticements. Stores will be crowded. The summer is launched. Finally. That’s good.

But it’s also probably a good idea to grab a few minutes to think about the day’s intent, to say prayers for those we love but see no longer, to focus on courage and sacrifice, to see what we all can do to “study war no more.”

As the prayer calls us to observe the day, it asks us to do four things: to remember, to resist rest, to share benefits, to accept disciplines.

First of all, we remember. We would not have a day called Memorial Day if we weren’t so prone to forgetfulness. There’s a part of the Episcopal liturgy which, during the eucharist, recites the good things God has done for us. It’s got a technical term: anamnesis, which literally means not amnesia. Not forgetting. In our bubbles of time and space, we may well forget the great cost. Today, how can we take moments to remember with gratitude the cost of the promise of our common life?

And today, we consider what it would mean to be restless. One of the great challenges I find in our work with congregations is complacency. The sense that we are done, completed. It can be a spirit of self-satisfaction. It can be a spirit of resignation. We honor those we remember by refusing to rest, striving as they did to ensure a better world, to go deeper, to know that God is never finished with us yet, to include more and more people in the experience of God’s justice and freedom, peace and love. How can we embrace that holy restlessness?

Today, we consider what it would mean to share benefits. When Jesus called his disciples to meet him in the least of our brothers and sisters (see Matthew 25), maybe he was talking about sharing the benefits of our common life, recognizing that we are in this together. As we observe a day in which we remember those whose efforts and offerings were intended to lead us to greatness, we note with thanksgiving the gifts and privileges of our common life. Freedom to vote. Freedom of expression. Freedom to worship. Freedom to protest. Freedom to learn. Fighting for such benefits cost lives over the course of our nation’s history. How can we share those benefits now as widely as possible?

Finally, today, we consider what it would mean to accept disciplines in our common life. We have been graced as a nation. Such grace is not cheap. A life of freedom calls for us to live into that grace, with intention, vigilance, practice, prayer, effort. This prayer calls us to accept those disciplines gladly.

Have a great time today. But also take time today to remember. Reflect on holy restlessness. Make a commitment (even a small one) to share benefits you have received. And prepare to accept disciplines that come with being a disciple.

-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.

Teachers

I was moved by the image of thousands of red t-shirts, worn by teachers walking up Raleigh city streets last week. They gathered from around the state to make the point that these days, we do not sufficiently honor the work teachers do. We fail to recognize the importance of their work.

Yesterday, I participated in a memorial service for a much-loved family member, a person of great gifts who used those gifts for close to 40 years as a teacher. There were other vocations he could have chosen, easier vocations, more lucrative ones. His call was to education, a commitment to raise up the next generation, to draw out the best in young people, a vision of hope, offered with love.

So teachers have been on my mind.

I’ve been made to think about how teachers changed my life. There’s a woman who taught me math in middle school. She taught me about steadfastness, since she taught my father in the same school, probably the same classroom. She sometimes called me by his name. A 27-year-old history teacher taught me in the 9th grade. (I thought he was downright ancient at 27.) He opened my eyes to a broader view of the world, challenging me to think outside the suburban bubble in which I was raised. A college religion professor gave much needed insight into the varied ways we have received the scriptures, deepening my love of text by embracing its complexity and mystery. A gracious (and rigorous) seminary professor, a faithful Christian taught me about grace even as he elevated expectations for more careful thinking and writing.

There were teachers met out of school. A child who asked me in church whether heaven was a place or a feeling. A 95-year-old widow who asked, after her husband’s death, what God was calling her to do with the next chapter of her life.

Each teacher, in his or her way, made a difference in my life. I am grateful.

With teachers on my mind, I invite you this morning to think about your teachers. Who have been your teachers, in school, church, family or workplace? If there is a way to be in touch with them, express your thanks to them. If not, let God know of your gratitude, and maybe the Holy Spirit will pass on the gratitude in some way.

Then think about this: Who are your teachers right now, this Monday morning? How are you still learning? I believe it might be helpful to change the word “disciple” in the New Testament. If I were in charge (apparently I’m not) I think we would do well to replace the word “disciple” with the word “student” or “learner”, at least for a while. I believe that would get across the notion that in the spiritual journey, there is always more for us to learn. We are never done.

And the good news? In that journey, we have a teacher. Jesus is described as such 45 times in the gospels. We have access to his teaching through the gospels which we bring to the center of our community every time we worship. I think specifically of the Sermon on the Mount, a teaching tool for the likes of Leo Tolstoy and Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. This teaching changed the world for the better. Lord knows, we could use the teaching of that sermon these days.

And if you are wondering where to find Jesus’ classroom these days, remember that we celebrated the feast of Pentecost yesterday. Readings for that big day indicate that God sent the Holy Spirit to guide us into all truth, which sounds a whole lot to me like the goal of education. Marvel of marvels, that same Holy Spirit uses people around us to be our guides, our teachers.

Join me in giving thanks for teachers, especially those we love but see no longer. Find ways to honor them. And continue the process of learning in your own life. God is not finished with us yet.

-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.

The Final Acts: There’s no place like Rome

In college, I spent a semester in Rome, ostensibly studying art history, or Italian, or something. As I recall the most popular course was wine-tasting. I did happen to make some life-long friends, an extraordinary gift that keeps on giving. And I discovered that the moniker “eternal city” developed for a reason. There’s something about the light of Bella Roma. I reflected on those days as I looked at this week’s readings from the Book of Acts, which take us on a trip to Rome.

This week, we conclude our journey through this book, as we’ve been invited by the Presiding Bishop over the Easter season to read Luke’s story of the start of the church. In the final chapters, we read about shy and retiring Paul speaking in front of all kinds of political authorities. We hear about conspiracies to put him to death, with quick thinking youth helping Paul escape. We read about shipwrecks and snake handling (sounds like the makings of a pretty good movie) and finally about his arrival in Rome where the indefatigable apostle finds a way to continue his ministry.

Paul had long hoped to get to Rome, to use it as a launching pad for a westward expansion of his ministry, specifically to Spain. He had it all figured out. I imagine him crafting strategic plan, mission statement, articulation of vision, communications strategies, goals, objectives, metrics, indices, power point presentations, social media, who knows, maybe bumper stickers and coffee mugs.

He had one kind of trip to Rome in mind. The Holy Spirit had another.

As is often the case, life happened instead of what he planned. Yet even under restrictions of imprisonment, the book of Acts tells us he found his way to Rome. He found a way to build community, to preach the kingdom of God. Scripture tells us he did so with confidence. After a long career repeatedly met with resistance, we are told that no one was forbidding him. That must have been a great joy.

I suspect we each and all spend our lives making plans. We may think we have it figured out. If you’re like me, we imagine we can clue God in on what really needs to happen, as if the Holy One were a bit out of touch. Sweet but somewhat clueless. In need of our guidance.

And then we find ourselves in a totally new situation. We face new challenges, for which we may not be prepared or equipped. That’s where God shows up, as we find that we have not been left alone, as we hear a call to trust that next steps will be revealed, as we have opportunity to test whether we really believe that all will be well and all manner of things will be well, to test whether we believe that love wins.

That can be true in our individual lives. How many of us are living the life we would have scripted from the beginning? On what resources can we rely when course changes, when as Garmin says, we have to recalculate?

That can be true for our congregations. We are not gathering in the church in which our parents gathered. Our children will not gather in the church in which we gather. How will we discover an agile faith for a common life that is both new and faithful and pertinent?

That can be true for the wider church. How can we enter into God’s mission for the world, a world that is changing quickly, a world where the church may not command as much attention or influence as in previous generations? (We can start by inviting the Presiding Bishop to preach at a royal wedding. How awesome is that?)

Tradition has it that Paul was martyred in Rome. I’m pretty sure that was not what he’d planned. But the word martyr really means witness. His remarkable witness has changed us all, as he shared the message of grace offered without condition, the message of love from which we can never be separated. That message offers power to move forward amid the changes and chances of life, even and especially when life throws curve balls.

-Jay Sidebotham

Last week of readings for the Good Book Club :

• MONDAY, May 14: Acts 22:30—23:11.
• TUESDAY, May 15: Acts 23:12-35.
• WEDNESDAY, May 16: Acts 24:1-27.
• THURSDAY, May 17: Acts 25:1-22.
• FRIDAY, May 18: Acts 25:23—26:32.
• SATURDAY, May 19: Acts 27:1-12.
• SUNDAY, May 20 (Feast of Pentecost): Acts 27:13—28:44

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.

God in my life?

The parishioner showed up in my office with an assignment. She was a force, a quite successful lawyer, who wondered about her co-workers who were highly ethical and had no religious affiliation. She was deeply involved in the church. They were not. She was curious about that. So she decided to invite a dozen of these folks to dinner, an invitation with condition. The conversation over dinner would address this question: God in my life? She decided I would be there to help moderate the conversation. I thought it was brave of her to do this. I thought it was brave of me to go. Except that I’m not sure I had a choice.

The table was full, invitations with condition accepted. As I dined with this group of strangers from several faith traditions, mostly non-observant at the time, I was struck with the fact that everyone at the table had something to say. Everyone had a spiritual story. Discussion was lively and enlightening. The group continued to meet once a month for a number of years.

One of my mentors, Dwight Zscheile, writes about the call for followers of Jesus in today’s culture. His book, People of the Way, describes an authentic discipleship in the Episcopal Church these days. He writes that one of the marks of faithful disciples is that they see what God is already up to in the neighborhood. They are not bringing God to the neighborhood. God is already there. That’s a healthy corrective to ways that many religious folks have looked at mission and evangelism. We’re talking about a call to be a listener and a learner. It’s a call to a more humble stance.

It may not be your impression of the guy, but St. Paul knew all about this. As he moved from city to city, he first took the pulse of the place, as he does in one of the readings for this week in our journey through the book of Acts. In chapter 17, he goes to Athens, intellectual center of his day. He seeks a way to connect with the people there. (Find an excerpt of that story above.) He goes to the Areopagus, close to the Parthenon and notes the many statues to the many gods revered in that culture. He notes one in particular, a statue to the unknown God. It strikes me as a kind of blank check/CYA deity, erected just in case the Athenians forgot someone, not to make anyone mad. Paul sees that as opportunity to share what he has learned about the God revealed in Jesus. But it began by his attentiveness to what people already knew and experienced spiritually.

Our Service of Holy Baptism asks a couple pertinent and outrageous questions. It asks us to seek and serve Christ in all persons. It asks us to respect the dignity of every human being. Christ is already in each person, in some way. Every person has God-given dignity. It is the conviction that prompted my parishioner to invite co-workers to share stories of “God in my life.” It is the conviction I’ve come to after a few years in ministry, that everyone has a God-shaped space inside, that everyone is restless until that space is filled. If we can help each other in filling that space, whether we are inside the church or outside the church, it will probably begin with talking less and listening more, sensing the contours of that interior space, sensing where that space hurts, where it indicates brokenness, where that space might be filled.

Think about that dinner conversation. How would you respond to the question: “God in my life?” And then think about how you might listen to someone else this week. Pray for God’s Spirit to lead you to that person. Hear that person’s story. Pray for that person. Learn from that person. Discover something new about God from that person.

-Jay Sidebotham

Good Book Club readings this week:

• MONDAY, May 7: Acts 17:1-9. 
• TUESDAY, May 8: Acts 17:10-34
• WEDNESDAY, May 9: Acts 18:1-28.
• THURSDAY,May 10: Acts 19—20:16.
• FRIDAY, May 11: Acts 20:17-38.
• SATURDAY, May 12: Acts 21:1-26
• SUNDAY, May 13: Acts 21:27—22:29.

(Take the Easter season to read the Acts of the Apostles, bit by bit each day. We’ll link the assignments for each day each week.)

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.

Singing in prison

Here’s a mystery: I’ve known people who from outward appearances have everything life could offer, all measures of success met, yet they seem unhappy. Often that unhappiness is contagious. I’ve known people smitten with major, multiple, coincident life challenges, modern-day Job’s, illustrations of the maxim that life is not fair. Yet they seem to navigate life with equanimity and hope. What’s up with that? Specifically, what leads people who are beset with trials to exude joy?

One of the best books I’ve read recently: The Book of Joy. It chronicles a week in which Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama hung out in Nepal. Wouldn’t you like an invite to that gathering? A journalist noted their exchanges. What comes through loud and clear is that these two spiritual giants enjoy each other’s company. They each have encountered suffering and persecution enough to make me wilt. Through it all, they exude joy. They seem to be having a blast.

I thought about that book when I read a favorite story from the Acts of the Apostles, a book we’re invited to read this Easter season (see assignments for this week below) The story, also included above, tells about Paul and Silas thrown in the slammer, victims of unjust political and religious persecution. Just imagine what a first century prison was like. And how do Paul and Silas handle their time? Luke records that they sing and praise God. The other prisoners listen to them. What was the secret to that kind of joy, which had nothing to do with circumstances?

I came up with these three observations about the roots of joy, based on this book, and based on observing folks I’ve known and admired who seem joyful amid difficulty.

Joy grows from a sense of gratitude. These two spiritual leaders say that gratitude allows us to savor life and recognize that much of our good fortune in life comes from others. They propose a gratitude practice by which at the end of the day, one thinks of three things from the day for which one is grateful, and then one writes about those three things in a journal. Worth a try.

Joy grows from a sense of acceptance. When the Dalai Lama was asked how he coped with decades of exile from beloved homeland, he spoke of acceptance. His practice comes from an ancient Indian teacher who said that when you experience some tragic situation, if there’s no way to overcome the tragedy, there is no use in worrying too much. If something can be done about the situation, what need is there for dejection? The journalist noted: This was not denial of pain and suffering but a shift in perspective. I note, with caution: Easier said than done. But I take seriously the witness of this spiritual leader who has been through the mill and found ways to speak of acceptance. It’s Serenity Prayer mindset.

Joy grows from a sense of hope. In a chapter on despair, Desmond Tutu notes all the good reasons to dispense with hope. He knew them well. He says that one must note positive things happening in the world, bearing a sense of proportion and wider perspective. He says that hope is quite different from optimism, which is superficial and liable to become pessimism when circumstances change. Hope is something much deeper. He says: “I believe with a steadfast faith that there can never be a situation that is utterly, totally hopeless…to choose hope is to step firmly forward into the howling wind, baring one’s chest to the elements, knowing that in time, the storm will pass.”

This week, think of someone in your life who exudes joy. It need not be exuberant or flashy. It might be quite quiet. If you have opportunity, ask that person where joy came from, Be your own journalist, crafting your own book of joy.

Then ask God for the gift of joy. St. Paul, often accused of crankiness, actually knew a lot about joy (Read his letter to the Philippians, written from prison, a letter in which every other word seems to be joy or rejoice.) In his letter to the Galatians, he describes joy as a gift of the spirit. Lord knows, our church, our world could use that gift. I could use more of it in my life. How about you?

-Jay Sidebotham

Good Book Club readings this week:

• MONDAY, April 30: Acts 14:1-20.
• TUESDAY, May 1 Acts 14:21-28.
• WEDNESDAY, May 2 Acts 15:1-21.
• THURSDAY, May 3: Acts 15:22-35.
• FRIDAY, May 4: Acts 15:36-41.
• SATURDAY, May 5: Acts 16:1-15.
• SUNDAY, May 6: Acts 16:16-40.

(Take the Easter season to read the Acts of the Apostles, bit by bit each day. We’ll link the assignments for each day each week.)

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.

The Easter Way

I had a birthday recently and my beloved sister sent me a card which repeated a message she’d given me years ago, then in the form of a bumper sticker. She knew I was tickled by that bumper sticker because I’ve quoted it a bunch. So when she saw the message on a card, she couldn’t resist buying the card and sending it to me. Again. As a reminder.

The message read: “Jesus loves you but I’m his favorite.”

It’s something siblings may not verbalize but often feel, whether we’re talking about siblings in a biological family, or siblings in a broader sense, i.e., the brothers and sisters of the whole human family. As one of my seminary teachers once told me, the Bible is just a story of sibling rivalry.

My witty sister is kidding, of course (I think). But humor has its truth, and it makes me think that any of us who speak of having a relationship with God, a commitment of faith, a religious orientation probably have some lurking inner sense that God is kind of lucky to have us on the team. While God may tolerate some real jerks, God is wild about enlightened and decent folks, say, just for instance, like me.

Which brings me to one of the readings chosen to be read on Easter Day, arguably the most important day in the church year. The reading comes from Acts 10, and you can find it above. It’s also one of the passages included in this week’s assignments for those reading through the book of Acts this Easter season as part of the Good Book Club. (Note: It’s not too late to start that spiritual adventure.)

In Acts 10, Peter preaches to fellow church members. He explains insights that have come to him in his leadership role. He affirms a wideness to God’s mercy, like the wideness of the sea, much wider than Peter could have ever imagined. Those insights mean that God’s welcome mat is huge.

So think with me about why this reading appears on Easter, again, our biggest day. I suspect it is because the news of resurrection, the news of Easter, is meant to make a change not only in how we relate to God, but how we relate to each other.

The way of life that draws distinctions, that relies on expressions of partiality, that focuses on who is in and who is out, all of that is frankly the way of death. It is limited thinking. It’s a dead end. Pursued to its extension, we’ll end up thinking of ourselves as the only one who has it right. What a lonely place. Perhaps even hellish.

The Easter way, the way of resurrected life, the way of new life embraces an ever-expanding vision of God’s love, reaching to everyone, even folks that annoy us. The Easter way says that we can find the risen Christ in all persons, even when Christ comes very well disguised.

So here’s a thought for this Monday morning: Where in your heart and mind do you draw distinctions? Who, if anyone, in the human family seems beyond the wideness of God’s mercy? (That may include the person you see in the mirror.) Identify that person (or persons). Pray for that person. Pray for the way you regard that person. Ask the Christ of Easter to open your heart to that person.

It’s the Easter way.

-Jay Sidebotham

Good Book Club readings this week:

• MONDAY, April 23:  Acts 10:34-48.
• TUESDAY, April 24: Acts 11:1-18.
• WEDNESDAY, April 25: Acts 11:19-30.
• THURSDAY, April 26: Acts 12:1-19.
• FRIDAY, April 27: Acts 12:20-25.
• SATURDAY, April 28: Acts 13:1-12.
• SUNDAY, April 29: Acts 13:13-52.

(Take the Easter season to read the Acts of the Apostles, bit by bit each day. We’ll link the assignments for each day each week.)

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.