Jesus Christ

April 14, 2025 | Leave a Comment

Heading into Holy Week. Together.

Our town’s Ministerial Association has shrunk. Many of the churches in it have shrunk. So the crowds at our Friday-night Lenten worship services have shrunk too. People usually show up to their own church when hosting, but otherwise I can pretty much predict who will be there: the small huddle ofNazarenes, the little crowd of Methodists, rarely anyone (a little embarrassingly) from my own church. I can’t quite figure that out. We may have doctrinal differences with the Catholics, for instance, but they’re the loveliest of people. Oh well.

Speaking of the Catholics, the final service before Holy Week is always at their place, and it’s always the Stations of the Cross. For the last several years, it’s been Deacon Doug leading us. Every year I overcome my Protestant uncertainty–do I really have to kneel?–and follow along. On this Friday before Good Friday, it’s become my entry into Holy Week.

The Catholic Daughters handed out the prayer guides this year, while the bell ringers warmed up. They played “Near the Cross.” I whispered along.

“In the cross, in the cross; Be my glory ever. Till my raptured soul shall find, Rest beyond the river.”

I changed the lyrics in my head, though. (I am the person who sang, “Later on, we’ll perspire as we dream by the fire,” in the second verse of “Winter Wonderland” for years.)

So, “To the cross,” I whispered Friday night, “to the cross. Be my glory ever. Till my restless soul shall find, Rest beyond the river.”

We’re headed to the cross, after all. And my soul often feels restless. Someday I’ll be raptured, but not yet. First I’ve got a class to teach and three sermons to write, so the rapturing can wait for now. Restless fits me better.

We’re headed to the cross, and there I was headed to it with my Baptist and Nazarene and Methodist and Pentecostal brothers and sisters, as it should be.

I was reminded, sitting there, of reading I’d done recently in postliberal theology (big words, sorry) and a theologian by the name of George Lindbeck in particular, who believed that our best response to Christianity’s waning hold on the ethics and imagination of society is to dig into our unique identity.We’ve got to speak our language. We’ve got to love our rituals.

But it’s not enough to do this living and speaking and loving as Presbyterians apart from Baptists apart from Catholics apart from Pentecostals. We’ve got to speak as one, just as much as we can, or our witness to and in this society gets even weaker.* In other words, occasions like a small town Lenten soup supper is a chance to say well and proudly that we’re all in this together. All of us.

And that could not be more important than this week as we’re heading into when we tell the strangest of stories about a man who was God who gave up his human life and rose again to remain God-with-us forever.

“Because by Your cross, you have redeemed the world,” we repeated fourteen times, once at each Station.

Those are special words for a special week, and we’re not speaking them alone.

At the end of the service, we concluded with the 15th Station of the Cross: the resurrection. Deacon Doug acknowledged it was unusual but appropriate since the 15th Station includes the reciting of the Apostles Creed, or “the creed we all share,” as he put it. He’s right. Sure, I mumbled “small case ‘c’” to myself when I affirmed my faith in the holy catholic church, but the faith that unites us–minus that difference in capitalization–is far greater than anything that divides us.

The prayer books that my husband and I received on Friday night were photocopies of the printed prayer books that some others held. The problem with our photocopied prayerbooks was that the copy machine cut off about an inch of text on every right hand page.

But the great thing was–Catholics and Protestants alike–we all did a pretty good job filling in the blanks. We know Jesus, and we know His story. The words came easy. I think George Lindbeck would have been proud. And maybe Jesus too.

To the cross, friends, to the cross, with our restless souls. Let us go.

*”George Lindbeck: Theology and the Eclessial People of Witness,” in The Trial of the Witnesses: The Rise and Decline of Postliberal Theology [Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2006], 57-100.

February 15, 2025 | Leave a Comment

No means no…really

No is no No is always no If they say no, it means a thousand times no No plus no equals no All nos lead to no no no

They’re lyrics from an old They Might Be Giants song titled (appropriately), “No!” When our kids were toddlers and a little older, we sang it to them. A lot. That’s probably why they’re in therapy now. (Here’s the song.)

In the early 1860’s, John Brett proposed to the poet Christina Rossetti. Christina said no. John didn’t give up. Without a They Might Be Giants song to play for him, she wrote him a poem instead. It’s titled (also appropriately), “No, Thank You, John.” Here are a couple of its more memorable verses:

I never said I loved you, John:

Why will you tease me, day by day,

And wax a weariness to think upon

With always “do” and “pray”?

Let bygones be bygones:

Don’t call me false, who owed not to be true:

I’d rather answer “No” to fifty Johns

Than answer “Yes” to you.

Poor John. Maybe he needs therapy too.

Jesus had something to say about our yes’s and no’s. Early in his Sermon on the Mount, he’s teaching about swearing oaths. They’re not necessary, He said. Oaths, after all, are just a concession to the fact that we human beings like to tell fibs. We’re called to be different and better.

“All you need to say is simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’,” Jesus taught, “anything beyond this comes from the evil one” (Matthew 5:37).

“When a Christian says, ‘I will be there,’ the Christian will be there,” wrote Frederick Dale Bruner in his commentary on Matthew. “When a Christian says no, the Christian means no. When a Christian joins a group or enrolls in a course or accepts an invitation, the Christian fully means what that act entails and is faithfully there.”

In other words, a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ ought to suffice. Mistakes happen. We forget. But, we sincerely intend to do whatever we say we’re going to do. Yes. No.

Of course, many of us–maybe too many of us–have a hard time saying that no even when we know it’s necessary. There’s not enough time in the day or energy in one ol’ body to say yes to every little thing.

I’ve gotten better about saying no in the past several years. Being an instructor at our college helps a lot. Students actually appreciate a simple yes or no. They might not like it, but they know where they stand and what they need to do. Church members, colleagues, community folks, they might not be as appreciative, but they get it. If someone judges me for saying no to one more thing, then the judgment is on them.

It occurs to me, too, that there’s a flip side of this teaching. Followers of Jesus, if our simple yes or no suffices to say to others, then a simple yes or no ought to suffice when other followers say it to us.

This is hard too. Sometimes, I really need someone to say yes. Yes, I will usher this Sunday. Yes, I will help with youth group. Yes, I’ll organize the Rotary Easter Egg Hunt. Yes, I’ll cover your class for you when you’re out of town. Yes, I’ll send that email for you.

If the friend or colleague or church member I’m asking is honest and faithful enough to say no, when they know they don’t have the time or interest or capacity, then I’ve got to trust their answer and trust God that someone else will be available or maybe it (whatever it is) just doesn’t need to get done. I’m not above begging, granted, but I try to use it sparingly.

And, a final note, a final reading of Jesus’ simple instruction, is this. Sometimes God says no too. And we’ve got to take it for what it is, trusting again that His timing and His will are perfect.

November 5, 2024 | 1 Comment

A few final thoughts on this Election Day…

Jesus will still be Lord after the election ends, after the vote is certified, and after Inauguration Day. Still. Always
Your neighbors will still be your neighbors, regardless of how they voted, who wins, and how they react, so the ties that bind us to one another in friendship and care matter more than the election results.
You are a follower of Jesus. That identity is more important than being a Republican, Democrat, Independent, or none of the above.
Your vote counts: It matters to the outcome for elected office and ballot issues. It matters A LOT to your soul. Be at peace with how you voted.
Our job is to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, and love our neighbors as we love ourselves. The rest is God’s job. Trust Him to do it.

Bible Verse of the Day