The Christmas Choice: Doing the Next Right Thing

The Magnificat is the beautiful song for which Mary is famous—Luke 1:46b-55.  She sings it after she visits her relative Elizabeth—Luke 1:39-45.   For years “Aunt” Elizabeth bore the shame of being a barren woman.  Now, she was expecting a child.  The child apparently gave a good solid kick at the moment Mary entered the threshold of Zechariah and Elizabeth’s house.  Coincidence?  Maybe so.  But Archbishop William Temple reminds us that, “Coincidences tend to happen more frequently when God is involved.”  Elizabeth certainly viewed it as a God-moment, and it seems that seeing Elizabeth so happy as she prepared to welcome her own “miracle baby” definitely impacted Mary’s attitude toward her own unplanned birth.  Maybe, just maybe, what the Angel told her was true: Nothing is impossible with God.   Maybe, she, an unwed teenage girl. could really do this thing.

But think about all that happens before she arrives at that moment.  Take for example, that first night after Gabriel’s visitation.  What was Mary feeling then, as she tossed and turned in her bed?  

Image credit: America: The Jesuit Review

What am I going to tell Joseph?  In Luke’s version of events, it’s Mary that hears from the angel—not Joseph.  Even if we combine Matthew 1:18-25 and Luke 1:26-38 and assume both parties in this drama God was orchestrating were “visited” by Gabriel, Mary doesn’t know at first that Joseph has had his own dream/visitation—and vice versa.  

Forget Joseph.  What am I going to tell my parents?!  Imagine the conversation, “Um, mom, dad, I’m with child.....   Oh, but fear not!  The Holy Spirit is the father.”  This is going to cause a scandal the likes of which this small town hasn’t seen in years.  Her family’s reputation would be ruined.  Her father would be so ashamed of her.  

My favorite song in the movie Frozen 2 was “The Next Right Thing”.  Anna sings it at a moment in the movie when all seems lost, when she thinks her beloved sister Elsa is gone, and the whole enterprise of saving their beloved kingdom of Arendelle now rests upon her shoulders.  But when I heard them, they sounded like they could be a soundtrack to Mary’s initial response to the Annunciation.

I’ve seen dark before, but not like this.

This is cold, this is empty, this is numb

The life I knew is over, the lights are out

Hello darkness, I’m ready to succumb.

I follow you around, I always have

But you’ve gone to a place I cannot find

The grief has a gravity, it pulls me down

But a tiny voice whispers in my mind

You are lost, hope is gone

But you must go on

And do the next right thing.

Can there be a day beyond this night?

I don’t know any more what is true

I can’t find my direction, I’m all alone

The only star that guided me was you

For Mary, that first night after the angel left her, I imagine it seems like all is dark, cold, empty, numb.  I think we may underestimate the grief she feels, the sense that the life she had planned is now ruined. Indeed, there is much for Mary to fear and grieve in this moment.  It had to be an eerie feeling.  She feels like she doesn’t belong in the scene she is living.  I know something about how that feels, I felt it in 2008, when the best doctors in the world essentially told me there was nothing more that medical science could do to save my daughter’s life.  Like Mary, it would be up to me (and my wife) to figure out the next right thing to do for her.

Anna begins singing about her sister Elsa, whom she sort of “worshipped”.  You can see why.  Elsa was the one with all the magical ice manipulation powers.  Compared to her sister, Anna didn’t think she was all that important.  But, the plot of the Frozen movies shows that she was in fact a vital cog in the story.  It was her “true love’s kiss” that thawed Elsa in Frozen; and her courageous acts, when she thought Elsa was dead, that helped save the kingdom in Frozen 2.

Similarly, as a young Jewish female living in a backwater outpost of Caesar’s Rome, Mary would not have viewed herself as important.  Mary even comments on the irony of God choosing to work through such a meek and lowly one in the Magnificat—Luke 1:48. Nevertheless, all her life Mary has followed God.  She has been taught the stories of her people and has obeyed God to the best of her ability.  She could say of her walk with God what Anna said of Elsa: I follow you around, I always have.  In other words, I’ve been faithful.

Gabriel’s visit, however, took Mary “off the map “as it were—to a place she cannot find in any of the ancient stories of her faith.  Yes, barren women have conceived on occasion (like her “Aunt” Elizabeth), but what about a teenage virgin?!  Did she remember the more obscure reference about a "young woman" conceiving from the Prophet Isaiah in that moment—Isaiah 7:14?  According to the Angel, Mary is “highly favored” and is to become the “Mother” of God via a “Holy Spirit”.  I think it’s safe to say her faith is shaken to the core by this unexpected news.  This is not familiar territory for her, and she doesn’t know how to navigate it.  For a while, she can’t find her direction.  The star that guided her has suddenly been snuffed out.  She’s all alone—in the dark.  How frightening it is to go one-on-one with God in the dark.  (Remember Jacob at Peniel—Genesis 32:22-32.)

I remember experiencing similar emotions after our daughter Hope passed from life support to life eternal two days after she and her identical twin sister Rebecca were born.  The first few days after she died were completely surreal—like I was living through a scene where I didn’t belong.  (I have a journal of those days or I likely wouldn’t remember much.)  There was this sense of standing in the rubble of my faith.  All that I used to take for granted about the nature of God was called into question.  Before then I think I naïvely assumed such “bad things” happened to “other people”—but faithful me would be spared.  I found out the hard way that  tragedy is no respecter of faith persuasion.   Now, what I assumed would never happen had happened, and I had to make sense of it.  The “sacred was torn from my life and yet [I] survived”.  Where did that leave me?  Where was a good and loving God in this tragedy of my wife and I were living through?

You can see why this line from the song really resonated with me: You are lost, Hope is gone.  But you must go on and do the next right thing. By God’s grace, I think my wife and I did.

How to rise from the floor?

But it’s not you I’m rising for

Just do the next right thing

Take a step, step again

It is all that I can to do

The next right thing

I won’t look too far ahead

It’s too much for me to take

But break it down to this next breath

This next step

This next choice is one that I can make

In the weeks and months after our daughter died, my wife and I had to figure out how to rise from the floor.  In our case, it helped that an infant and a toddler depended on us to care for them when we got home.  Even if we had wanted to (which we did some days) we couldn’t exactly ball up the fetal position.  There were others who needed us to “rise”.  “Normal” life went on in the world despite our personal tragedy.  That was both comforting and disconcerting at the same time.  The grief has a gravity that pulls you down. As a  meteorologist, I likened the feeling to that of an oppressive summer day, which has a way of sucking the life out of you—only it was every day.  Some days, it was all that we could do, but we had to find a way to do the next right thing.  We couldn’t look too far ahead, but we could choose life each day, we could break it down to this next breath, this next step.  We found that the next choice was one we could make.

I can only imagine that Mary may have felt a little bit like that when she found out she was expecting.  Her world was thrown out of whack and it would take time to adjust.  Within a few weeks it becomes clear she is in fact pregnant. Suddenly, she has this miraculous conception growing within her.  She may not know exactly how it got there, but that almost doesn’t matter.   The fact is: it’s there.  That child was depending on her to find within herself the courage to rise from the floor and do the next right thing.  Somehow, she chose to trust God even if she no longer understood God—Luke 1:38.

So, I’ll walk through this night

Stumbling blindly toward the light

And do the next right thing?

And with the dawn, what comes then?

When it’s clear that everything will never be the same again

Then I’ll make the choice

To hear that voice

And do the next right thing. 

And with the dawn what comes then?  That was the question for Mary—and for all us when it comes to living a life of faith.

When my daughter died, it rapidly became clear to my wife and I that everything will never be the same again.  Eleven years later, we’ve found a new “normal”; we’ve made as much peace as one ever makes with tragedy of losing a child.  You don’t “get over it” as many assumed we would—and should.  We’ve made Hope’s story part of our own.  We visit where her earthly remains lie a few times a year, including a visit each year around Christmas.  Our kids know they had a sister; Becca knows keenly that someone is missing from her life. 

I can’t help but think that after Gabriel’s visit. Mary also must have felt: Everything will never be the same again.  In her case, the life that she thought she would live as Joseph’s wife was over before it began.  If she could believe the Angel’s message, God was about to do a new and amazing thing for the world through her.  But Mary couldn’t see the new thing yet; she had to trust it was there with her, in the darkness of her womb.  I’m guessing it was never an easy choice for her to make—and especially early on, before there was visible evidence that she was pregnant.

But then here’s the kicker, not only did Mary have to trust herself, she had to find the courage to ask others (most notably Joseph, her fiancé)  to trust in that unseen newness too—before they could see it.   In the male-dominated world of her day Mary knew she had to have Joseph’s support to even have a chance that this birth might actually come to pass. A hard conversation—and a difficult journey—still lied ahead for both of them for the child—and the new world God was inaugurating through his birth—to be born.  As she walked to visit her fiancé, what must Mary have felt?  Surely, she still had many questions and doubts.  First and foremost: Did what I think happened really happen?   But, no matter how impossible it seemed, she had to tell him.  The little voice inside tells her she can do no other.  The outcome was not in her hands; she couldn’t control how Joseph would react—but somehow that was okay.  As she had done her whole life, Mary wrestled with God over her decision, and we are all blessed because she made the choice to hear that voice and do the next right thing.

Welcoming Christ Our Neighbor King

Of all the threats facing the human race today, perhaps none is more insidious than our divisiveness.   Now to be fair, unity doesn’t make a good news story—but divisiveness sure does.  So, you could argue that news coverage is biased and tends to underplay instances when people actually do come together and cooperate.  Still, I think it’s fair to say that on the whole, we human beings have this tendency to define ourselves in terms of how we are different from others instead of what we all have in common.  Furthermore, one need only look at the ticker the news headlines from whatever source you prefer for a few minutes to see that our political and/or ideological divisions often make it hard for us to come together for the common good of the human race.  

It seems that divisiveness is a core characteristic of human beings, and thus it's no surprise that it is a theme in the story of God's people in history almost from the beginning. It dates at least as far back as the tale of Cain and Abel—Genesis 4—and even a chapter earlier, in Genesis 3, Adam and Eve fell into the trap of wanting to set themselves apart from God. They had paradise, but they chose division—from God, and each other.  They hide from God when God comes looking for them, and in some sense, the human race has been hiding ever since.   The Psalmist says that it is very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity­—Psalm 133:1—see A Psalm About Unity to learn more about this passage. 

A Psalm About Unity

¹How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity.

²It is like the precious oil on the head, running down upon the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down over the collar of his robes.

³It is like the dew of Hermon which falls on the mountains of Zion.  For there the Lord ordained his blessing, life forevermore.

—Psalm 133

In this short psalter, the author seems to recognize how hard unity is to achieve. Anointing oil was expensive and reserved for special occasions. Yet verse 2 suggests that unity is such a rare thing, that the oil of gladness should be poured out in abundance—even wasted—to celebrate it.  The oil runs down High Priest Aaron’s head, to his beard, and all the way down his robes. 

Verse 3 contains a parallel geographical image that the original audience would not have missed.  The writer imagines the dew of Hermon (a 9000-foot, lush, solitary, green mountain located in far northern Israel) flowing all the way to the Zion Mountains (a much drier range further to the south).  Much like the oil of gladness flows from the top of the body to the bottom, unity brings gladness to all of Israel, from the top (north) to the bottom (south).

I also wonder if the writer also used this image intentionally to convey the elusive and fleeting nature of unity.  He pictures it as ephemeral as dew in the desert.  Heavy dew would be a common experience on Mount Hermon, but to experience an abundance of dew on Mount Zion would be a rarity, on par with the experience of true unity among brothers and sisters.  

If you read the Gospels you see that everyone tried to recruit Jesus to their “side”.  But Jesus didn’t come to join a side, he came to show us an entirely new way. In fact, on one occasion, he went so far to say that he was the Way—John 14:9.  In his longest recorded prayer, which takes place just before he is arrested and crucified, one of the things Jesus requested is that is disciples would be oneas he and God were one—John 17:20-25.  Being as fully human as he was divine,  Jesus knew well the danger of divisiveness.  He knew that even within the Upper Room there was division among his closest followers.  After all, one of them was about to betray him to the Romans.  He himself had felt the temptation to “join a tribe” and define himself by what he wasn’t, as opposed to what he was, just as much as you and I feel it today.  

And of course, it doesn’t end with Jesus. Many of Paul’s letters were written in response to divisions that he had heard about in the Christ communities that he had started.   He spends a lot of time appealing for unity in the Body of Christ—e.g., 1 Corinthians 1:10-17.  

Image credit: From related story at Historyhollywood.com. 

At our church for the past month, the sermons have drawn from the example of Fred Rogers, a man who modeled for us what it means to live in unity with his neighbors.  The movie, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, made its debut this weekend.  It gives us another perspective on what that neighborhood was like—and what it was like to be an outsider invited into that neighborhood.  Talk about suspending disbelief! At moments I forgot it was Tom Hanks, and not Fred Rogers, I was watching on the screen in front of me.

Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood was a diverse place, and sometimes they disagreed.  But they seemed to work through differences and get along by the end of the episode. Some might dismiss this as something that can only happen in the "Land of Make Believe". This all sounds well and good for the plot of a children’s program, they say, where everything is neatly resolved in a 30-minute episode, but practically speaking,  it seems impossible to do in the “real” world.  And the skeptics may have a point.  Grown-up issues are sometimes a bit more complex than those Mr. Rogers addressed.  

But, then again, if we can’t even begin to imagine being able to work through our differences and live together in unity, how will we ever actually do it in real life? 

It is interesting to me that a movie about Mr. Rogers would come off the same weekend Christ the King Sunday on our liturgical calendar (and a week before Thanksgiving on our secular calendar).  A newer addition to the liturgical calendar (created in 1925 versus centuries ago, like most of the calendar) the final Sunday of Ordinary Time (and the last Sunday of the liturgical year) is set aside for us to ponder the kind of Lord, or the kind of King we are about to prepare to welcome into our neighborhood—John 1:14, The Message—during the season of Advent, which starts the following Sunday.  

Perhaps Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood gives more clues about Christ the King than we realized when we watched as children.  Rogers was a humble Man of God—a Presbyterian minister, whose pulpit was a weekly children’s TV program.  (I imagine he reached far more people that way, then he would have “in a church”.)  Every day the Neighborhood Trolley took us on an adventure to the Land of Make Believe, where King Friday XIII reigned over an imaginary kingdom where all Creation had voices.  There were talking tigers, dogs, cats, owls, skunks, frogs, and platypus, conversing with the humans on a regular basis—and no one thought it the least bit unusual.  We see Henrietta Cat living alongside Daniel Striped Tiger, and families of Frogg and Platypus coexisting with X the Owl… and the animals even manage to thrive right alongside the humans, like Lady Elaine Fairchild, Lady Aberlin, and Handyman Negri.  This menagerie of muppets and men brought to my mind the image from the Bible of the peaceable kingdom—Isaiah 11:6-8. There’s even “a little child” to lead them, since presumably Prince Tuesday is heir to the throne.  

Like the Kingdom of God that Jesus frequently speaks about, Mr. Rogers’ Land of Make Believe gave us glimpses of what it might look like to live in a “neighborhood” where kindness reigns, a place where leaders rule not by the sword—but by the towel.  

It wasn’t just the trips to the Land of Make Believe that taught us; almost every episode provided living parables—and sometimes prophetic statements.  Take for example the episode when Mr. Rogers dipped his feet in a pool of water with Officer Clemons, an African American, on hot summer afternoon in May 1969.  While segregation was no longer “legal” at that time, it was still very much practiced in our nation.  Many communities would not allow African Americans to swim in the same pool as white people.  There are repugnant scenes from that era of white motel owners throwing chemicals in pools while blacks were swimming!  

By virtue of that one act of kindness, Mr. Rogers preached a sermon—without saying a word!  People today are sometimes offended when pastors “get political” with their message.  Although he left “formal” pastoral ministry, Fred Rogers never forgot that part of his call was to speak out when he saw injustice and unkindness in our world.  At that moment in time, he used his TV program to offer a voice for a group of people who were being denied one.  He recognized that the Body of Christ can claim unity, only to the extent that it feels the pain of its weakest parts—and responds with kindness and compassion.

As author and surgeon Paul Brand says it: “When wounded, living tissues cry out, and the whole body hears the cry.  And we in Christ’s Body—loving our neighbors as ourselves—are called to a similar level of identification: If one part suffers, every part suffers, says St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 12:26.” [1]

There was no mistaking where Mr. Rogers stood on the issue of racism after that episode aired.  When my pastor (who happens to be my wife) spoke on this, she pointed out that this was an effective means to get his message across because, at the heart of it all, he was simply being a neighbor to Officer Clemons.  He was doing what Jesus would’ve done if he were Fred Rogers in that moment; in other words, he was being a disciple of Christ our “Neighbor King”.  She wondered how different the world might be if all of us who claimed to follow Christ simply did a better job at being kind to our neighbors?   Who knows?  We might just change the world! 

This episode, like so many, was modeled on an example from the life of Jesus that we find in the Bible—see Luke 13:1-17. On the very night when (at least as John tells the story) Jesus knew he was about to be betrayed, denied, and ultimately abandoned by those with whom he was about to eat the Passover meal, he took the radical step of kneeling to wash their dirty feet.  To be clear, everyone in that room would have been shocked to see the one Peter had earlier identified as Christ the Lord, kneel to do the job that even the lowliest servant tried hard to avoid.  (Feet don’t smell good today after a day of activity; I suspect they smelled much worse in the first century.)  But, despite protests from Peter and the others, Jesus continued undeterred.  After he finished, he put his robe back on and said, “Do see what I have done for you? I have given you an example of how to love.  Now go and do likewise.”  No one was excluded from that foot washing—not even Judas, the one who was about to set in motion the events that would lead to Jesus’s death.   You and I are those disciples—they are us. 

Like Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, the Kingdom of God is a place where the King and his followers kneel to serve every other resident of “neighborhood”, showing them hospitality and compassion, and granting them dignity—no matter how different they are from us.

St. Teresa of Avila said, “Always think of yourself as everyone’s servant; look for Christ Our Lord in everyone and you will then have respect and reverence for them all.”  I pray that it could be said of us—and of our faith communities—that we saw and honored Christ in every person we met. I hope these examples from Fred Rogers—and from Jesus—inspire us to be Christ’s hands, feet, eyes, and voice in our communities through simple acts of kindness and compassion, especially when we see places where these are being denied to one of our neighbors.  I can only imagine what might happen if we actually managed to really “get” this.  Maybe, this Advent, the Light of Christ, our Neighbor King, would truly shine and disperse the gloomy clouds of division and disagreement that so often conspire to drag our world down into the pit of despair.  Perhaps it would be the dawn of a new day where we pass beyond fleeting unity among the members of a single faith community or neighborhood, and experience profound solidarity with the only race there is—the human race—and even with our non-human neighbors—and ultimately, with the Neighbor God who created all things.  Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

---

[1] Brand, Paul and Philip Yancey (IV Press: 2018). Fearfully and Wonderfully: The Marvel of Bearing God’s Image, Ch 17, p. 185.  The book looks at the anatomy of the human body and draws analogies to the Body of Christ.  Brand was a surgeon who worked extensively with Leprosy patients in India and Louisiana. 

For “Living Disciples” School is Always in Session

For everything, there is a season…

—Ecclesiastes 3:1

The calendar has now turned to September.  Like many others where I live, my kids went back to school the day after Labor Day. Although the astronomical season of summer lasts another three weeks, and summer weather can sometimes last well into September and October here in Maryland, Labor Day is viewed by most people as the “end of summer”.  The neighborhood pools close until Memorial Day, and the beaches are much less crowded than they were just a few days ago.  Football season is upon us now, and before too long the leaves will change color and fall. And believe it or not, in just a little over 100 days it will be Christmas! 

So much of our life organizes around the academic year—including the life of our church communities.  When school closes for the summer in May/June, we tend to follow their lead  and shudder the formal learning (and most other activities) until fall.  To be fair, the decision is practical, since this is a time many people—including church leaders and their families (like my own for example)—plan vacations.  People do, after all, need a season to rest…  I for one enjoyed my summer vacation.

As late August and September comes, schools and colleges resume classes, sports practices get rolling, and activities at church also ramp up back up.  After Labor Day, as Warren G. Harding put it, life sort of “returns to normalcy”. 

We tend to take a break from formal structured learning during summer at church, but when we decide to follow Jesus, it’s not just "year-round school" we sign up for—but lifelong learning.  

****************************************

In the ancient world, when someone wanted to learn something, they usually sought out a Master to teach them.  They became an apprentice and literally “did life” with that person, living with them, following them everywhere they went, and learning everything they knew.  They didn’t just learn about a subject in a textbook, they learned it by "living it"—by doing the things that their Master did.  Eventually they themselves became teachers who taught others what their Master had taught them.  This is what we see Jesus doing with his closest followers—whom we know as the Disciples. 

My son Brady and his coach Kevin.

I’ve lived through an example of that this summer with my son Brady. He has had quite a few training sessions with Kevin Munson, who is a relief pitcher for the Southern Maryland Blue Crabs (of the Atlantic League).  My wife found Kevin online this summer and he agreed to take Brady on as a student. The hours of one-on-one training both in the batting cage in the bowels of the Blue Crabs Stadium—and on the field where they play—has helped Brady to feel more confident in his game.  He even made his Middle School team!  He’s excited about the year ahead.  That makes his dad happy—and makes the price we pay per lesson seem worthwhile. 

Kevin has not only taught my son about baseball; he’s taught him skills that will translate to his life.  

Kevin Munson on the mound
in relief for the Southern Maryland
 Blue Crabs on September 1.

Brady has learned that sometimes you will be tired, and, on those days, it will be tempting to just go through the motions, or to bail on attending practice altogether. These are the moments when the rubber hits the road and you must decide how badly you want it—whether theit be baseball-related or some other goal in life.  Through this apprenticeship to Kevin, Brady has also learned that while he may have physical limitations (due to his asthma), they probably are a bit beyond what he thought they were at the beginning of the summer. Most of all, he’s learned how much it means to have someone who believes in you and your capabilities—and thus pushes you a bit beyond your comfort zone to help you achieve your full potential.  Did I mention Kevin is also a Christian?  We didn’t know that when we started. 

****************************************

Our relationship with Jesus (particularly as Teacher) has similarities to my son’s relationship with his baseball coach. Although we will certainly form a theology, or beliefs about God, along the way, my sense is that Jesus is less interested in telling us what to believe about God and more interested in showing us how to live life with God.  Theologian Dallas Willard said that “discipleship is a life” spent “learning from Jesus how he would live our life if he were us”.  Now, that doesn’t mean Jesus lives our lives for us, but it does mean that if we “enroll in his class” and follow him day-by-day, he promises to show us how to live. 

Of course, what makes our apprenticeship to Jesus a little more challenging than Brady’s relationship with his baseball coach, Kevin, is that, with Jesus we have to learn to communicate with a Coach we can’t see with our eyes.  But Jesus promises that if we follow him, he will train us to have “eyes that see” his presence and “ears that hear” his voice.  We will begin to see that we can indeed learn from Jesus as we journey through life.  He will make himself visible in ways that speak uniquely to each of us.  

Just as Coach Kevin took time to learn who Brady was and works with him differently than he might with another student, Jesus crafts a curriculum for each of us that is unique to who God has created us to be. 

****************************************

As I mentioned already, Brady takes lots of private lessons (he actually has two coaches he works with). While they both have been essential to his growth as a baseball player, ultimately baseball is a team sport.  You need nine players to field a team and you have to work together to pursue your goals.  At baseball practice, Brady works with the other players on the team and becomes familiar with their habits (and vice versa), and together with their coach, they figure out how they work best together and what gives them the best chance to succeed during games against other teams.   

In a similar manner, while one-on-one training is an essential part of spiritual growth, Christianity is not meant to be a solo activity   No, it’s about God’s people working together as a team to accomplish what God needs done on the “field” of life.   We live out most of our day-to-day Christian faith in the context of community, both within our church and in the broader context of the place where we live.   Group activities are a good opportunity to practice interacting in a group of like-minded people how we want to behave when we are about in the larger world outside the church walls.  In this sense, it kind of works the same way baseball practice works for Brady and his teammates. 

Individual study and group study are of a piece; one activity complements the other beautifully. It takes a balance of both to mature as a follower of Christ.  

I know from experience that there is something powerful that happens when a group studies the Bible or a book together under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. But, I also know that I am most likely to experience the group study that way if I’ve been learning on my own between classes.  When we’re in a healthy group, the exchange of different perspectives around the table is spiritually enriching.  We discover that we need not agree on everything to have fellowship together and learn from one another.  In fact, we might actually learn the most from those who have a different perspective—that is, if we truly listen to them.  

It takes intentional practice to get past the human tendency to think that our view is the only orthodox one and that our job is to convince others of their wrongness, i.e., to win the argument at all costs.  In this day and age, it seems the ability to simply listen to and respect one another is a lost art.  Healthy group study can help us regain that God-given capacity.

****************************************

My church adopted a new vision statement last year. It is a simple statement of who our community hopes to be.  We say that:

Through God’s love we will engage and 
empower everyone to be living disciples.

There’s a lot there to unpack in that sentence, and we’re still fleshing out what this looks like in practice in our community.  However, I particularly like the phrase, living disciples—which came from one of our youth who participated in the discussions leading to our new vision.  The phrase implies a vibrancy, a dynamic and growing faith, always learning and exploring new paths beyond the well-worn comfortable and familiar ones—always open to new ways of experiencing God individually and in community.

It’s safe to say that if my church—or anyone—is going to achieve this vision of “being living disciples,” continual learning at the feet of our Master is not optional.   

No matter what age you are, or how long you’ve been “going to church”, no one is allowed to say “I’m done. There’s nothing more I need to learn from Jesus.” When you think about it that's kind of an arrogant stance to take—ever.  Maybe Jesus' reply to us when we presume to think we've got it "all figured out" when it comes to following him is similar to what the venerable Jedi Master Yoda once said to his adversary Count Dooku.  Maybe he sort of chuckles to himself and says: “Much to learn you still have.” 

So whether it be in a formal classroom setting, with a group of friends gathering for spiritual discussion and fellowship, or simply through your own personal studies, I hope you take the next step in your "curriculum for Christlikeness" this fall.   I encourage you to keep “fanning the flame” that Christ has lit within you"—2 Timothy 1:6.  Remember, Christ is counting on us!   There is no “Plan B”.

Taking Pride in Being Authentically Ourselves

My family recently participated in the Southern Maryland Pride event in Solomons, MD. As most know by now, the United Methodist Church’s General Conference recently voted to strengthen its stance against Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer… (LGBTQ+) individuals.  In light of this decision, my wife (a UM pastor) wanted to attend Pride to stand in solidarity with the LGBTQ+ community in our area, and to let them know they are loved—and welcome at our church. I confess I went somewhat reluctantly.  This was my first time attending a Pride event. Even though I had been assured the event was much smaller and more “family friendly” than the Pride events in “big cities,” I wasn’t sure what to expect. I could’ve easily found something else to do that morning.  I’m glad we went together as a family, though.  It was good for my children to experience—but it was good for me too. Like Mr. Wesley going to Aldersgate, I went reluctantly, but by the end of the day my heart was “strangely warmed”.

I didn’t know the history behind these Pride events before I went.  I may have heard of Stonewall before I went to Solomons, but I certainly didn’t know the details.  This was when police raided the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village in Manhattan, setting off several days of violent protests involving LGBTQ+ people.   

The first Pride rally took place in New York on the first anniversary of Stonewall, on June 28, 1970. The original rally was purely a political protest but over time they have morphed into events that combine a rally and a celebration of LGBTO+ life—which is a good description of what I experienced at Southern Maryland Pride.  There are now rallies of varying sizes all around the country; most tend to take place in the month of June.  This year marked the fiftieth anniversary of Stonewall and this year’s Solomons Pride march’s theme was: From Stonewall to Solomons: We’re Still Here.

There were a number of speakers at the event, followed by a march up the boardwalk in Solomons. Probably the most impactful words I heard that day was from a young trans-gender individual, who is currently transitioning from she to he.  The individual was justifiably emotional as he described how s(he) wrestled with all the emotions surrounding his identity and the ramifications of the choice he made to transition.  He said he finally came to the point where, “he made a choice to live his life in a way that didn’t hurt anymore”.

That quote reminded me of a movie scene I come back to again and again.  It is the moment in the movie,The Return of the King, where Elrond comes to Aragorn (who up until now he has been living as Strider, or “the Ranger”) and presents him with the blade of his ancestors that Elrond has had reforged. He tells Aragorn to put aside “the Ranger” and become who he was born to be.  It’s time for him to stop hiding in the shadows and go public with who he really is.  Middle Earth needs Aragorn now—not Strider. No matter how many times I see the movie, this scene always undoes me.

I think this scene is transcendent because Elrond doesn’t just speak to Aragorn in that scene, he issues the same challenge to me—and to you, and to everyone, to drop the “masks” we wear once and for all and be authentically ourselves—without apology.

 “Let people feel the weight of who we are—and let them deal with it.”—John Eldredge  

This quote is both inspiring and sobering.  Who doesn't long to do just what it says?   And yet it also hints at the unfortunate reality that it’s often much easier to say it than to actually do it in this world.

Making the choice to be authentically ourselves is bound to make others uncomfortable.  And, we were reminded at the Pride rally, that when people get uncomfortable, they may choose to lash out at the source of their discomfort.  The parade route passed by Solomons UMC; the pastor of the church was one of the clergy that participated in the march.  The church opened its doors to the marchers on their return trip up the boardwalk, offering a place to rest for those who needed it, and refreshments for the marchers on their return trip.  It was a simple act of hospitality on a hot day. It was “what Jesus would do.”  

But at least one woman didn’t seem to agree.   As she drove by the church in her car, she made a point of rolling down her window to say such nice things as: Shame on you.  Go to hell.  Did I mention she fired off all this profanity with children present—including my own?  

**********************************

Unfortunately, too often we use our religion to justify our bad behavior, like the anonymous woman at the Pride rally did.  We quote Scripture to justify our decision to ostracize those different from us that make us uncomfortable.  When it comes to homosexuality, we like to say that we, “love the sinner but we hate the sin”.  Now, I admit, I used to think this way on this issue.  

But the more I’ve thought about it, I wonder if it’s actually possible to separate ‘the sin’ from ‘the sinner’?  

Maybe it can be done, but it seems difficult.  It seems like our vices often come right alongside our virtues, and the two are very difficult to separate, no matter how much we pray about it or how hard we try.  Our sin nature is part of what makes us human; it is the darker side (or shadow) of the good creation God has made in each of us—and God loves the whole package. 

“Human consciousness does not emerge at any depth accept through struggling with our shadow. It’s in facing our own contradictions that we grow.  It is in the struggle with our shadow-self, with failure, or with wounding that we break into higher levels of consciousness. People who learn to expose, name, and still thrive inside contradictions are what I would call prophets”—Richard Rohr.

So, it’s not that we don’t try to acknowledge and wrestle with our shadow-self, but it’s not something we ever completely eliminate.  In fact, there’s a sense that we need our sin nature, because the ongoing struggle with it serves as an impetus for continued growth, transformation, and movement toward God.  It certainly isn’t a precondition for God’s love for us to be rid of it.  That kind of makes logical sense to me.  I mean if we needed to be sin-free for God to love us, other than Jesus, who would qualify—Romans 3:23? 

**********************************

Some believe homosexuality is something that a person could choose not to be.  There was a time I might have agreed.  However, some books I’ve read the past few years have changed my thinking.  More importantly, I’ve had long-term friendships with several committed Christians who are gay. I remember one watershed moment in the evolution of my thinking on this issue was when my wife and I were sitting at the breakfast table (I think it was at Gary’s Grill in Severna Park, MD) with my wife’s long-time friend Beth (who has now transitioned to Grey). We were talking about Beth’s lifestyle and the challenges she faced being out as transgender.  At one point, she said simply: “Would I choose this?”   

It’s fair to say her words have stuck with me.  No… I don’t believe she would.  Nor would anyone choose to open themselves up to ridicule and shame by the “dominant” majority, including many Christians—including me—unless they truly believed they can do no other—unless they truly believed this was the only way they could be who they were born to be.

The fact that I don’t understand their decision or lifestyle doesn’t make it wrong.  The fact that these people being who they are sometimes makes me uncomfortable, as it did at the Pride rally, is my problem—not theirs. 

I have come to the point where I honestly think sexual orientation might be as fundamental to a person as sex or skin color or handedness. We tend to think of these characteristics as being binary.  That is, you are either male or female.  But I’ve come to understand that it may not be that simple.  As much as it stretches the mind of a Meyers–Brigg “J” like me, gender seems to exist on a spectrum—which when you think about it, is not unlike race, which is a mixed bag for many of us.  So, there is a sense that Sigmund Freud was right when he said, “we are all bisexual”.  What I take this to mean in this context is that we each have a particular mixture of masculine and feminine traits, and in rare cases it seems the outside appearance may not match interior makeup, manifesting as a trans-gender person.  

**********************************

Having been born a white male, I’ve never experienced harsh treatment simply because of my racial, gender, or sexual identity. The closest I can relate to the LGBTQ+ experience probably pales in comparison, but it does have a few parallels to their experience.  I was born left handed in a world where 90% of folks are right-handed.  There was a time when those born left handed were considered “wrong” or “backwards,” not unlike how some respond to LGBTQ+ people today.  Parents of children born left-handed used to try to “convert them” to right-handedness. (My wife’s mom is an example of someone who was “converted”.) Some say that homosexual individuals can be similarly “converted” to heterosexual orientation. I’ve read some “success stories” of people who claim they’ve been “converted”.   

While I don’t recall overt efforts to “convert” me to right-handedness, I do remember the experience of being left handed in school.  We sat at old, beat up left-handed desks, and cut with scissors that had big green handles and always seemed to be duller than the “normal” scissors. Honestly, I think at some point I just learned to use the right-handed scissors with my left hand—although, to this day, I look weird doing it and never can cut as neatly as others.  

Remember the scene in the Peanut’s Halloween Special when they are all dressed up in their costumes? Charlie Brown’s simple ghost costume has like twenty eye holes in it.  He says simply, “I had a little trouble with the scissors,” and the other kids laugh at him.   Having messed up my share of arts and crafts projects over the years while everybody else’s looks so much nicer, I can sympathize with how Charlie Brown felt in that moment.  I’ve walked some miles in his costume as it were.   I wonder if Charlie Brown was left handed too? 

Likewise, I learned to eat right handed, but always looked weird doing it.  My dad would always criticize me for “shoveling my food” when I ate.  He never figured out why it looked to him like I was “shoveling”. It was only once I got married that my wife noticed I was eating right handed and encouraged me to learn to eat the way that came more naturally to me. 

Later in life, I did ballroom dancing for over a decade, and it’s designed with the “dominant hand” in mind. I liked doing it, but I found it challenging to learn.  Most of the steps start with the leader’s right foot free, and support with the left side of the body—the opposite of how I’m built.  I’m sure there are fine dancers who are left-handed, but I always thought being left handed made learning to dance harder.  Let’s just say the “natural (right) turn” didn’t come naturally to me. Everything seemed backwards!  

Similarly, at any baseball practice, the few southpaws always stand out like a sore thumb from the rest of the kids.  Every drill has to be adjusted for the lefties. Just as with dancing, I know that being left handed doesn’t prevent success. In fact, some of the best pitchers in the Major League were/are left handed (e.g., Randy Johnson/Max Scherzer). In part it’s because there aren’t that many of them out there, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s also because they had to work so much harder than the right-handed players to learn everything “backwards”.  

In short, we left-handers have to be taught to do almost every manual task just a little bit differently from 90% of the world!  My friend’s father once had a T-shirt that read, “Hire the left-handed.  It’s fun to watch them write.”  It’s true!  Think about it…  

All that to say that if homosexual preference is as fundamental as handedness, then I know from my experience that life will be already be harder for LGBTQ+ individuals precisely because they are a significant minority in the world.  So, who am I to heap on additional layers of shame by telling them that who they are is “incompatible with Christian teaching”, and that God doesn’t accept them the way they were created?   

If God can love a “backwards” southpaw like me, then surely loving an LGBTQ+ individual isn’t much of a stretch. 

**********************************

As I said earlier, I went to the Southern Maryland Pride rally reluctantly—but it was an impactful experience for me.  The young person who spoke at the event has no doubt encountered hatred and resistance throughout his life from people who are not comfortable with who he is.  The fact that, in spite of all that vitriol, he still had the courage to stand up and proclaim his choice in public speaks volumes to me about his character and authenticity.  He displayed more courage than I would have in that situation.  I would worry about what others would think if I were that brutally honest about who I am.  He knows full well the flack he will take from some for his choice to “go public” and nevertheless he persists in becoming who he believes he was created to be—and chooses to “let the world deal with it.”  I may not understand it; I might not even completely agree with it; but I have to respect it.

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive”—Howard Thurman.

I love this quote from Thurman; I want to live this quote. But I find it so much easier to write about it than to do it.  Maybe that’s why what the young speaker at the Pride rally said resonated with me so much. He not only figured out who he was—but then he had the courage to go public with his identity.  He’s choosing to live in a way that makes him feel “fully alive.”  In this sense, I want to be like this young man!   I pray every day for God to help me, “live my life in a way that doesn’t hurt anymore.”  In other words, I seek to find ways to be more authentically and unapologetically me.  I ask for the courage to let the world feel the full weight of who I am and let them deal with it—and I trust God to deal gracefully with my reluctance and unbelief.  

"The glory of God is man (or woman) fully alive"

—St. Irenaeus. 

What I think this quote means is that God is made more visible in our world as more of us “become who we were born to be.” 

I hope you will join me in seeking to be more authentically and unapologetically yourself.  I think this is what Jesus calls his followers to become as we follow him.  It is a certainly a countercultural act in a world that places us under such pressure to conform to the expectations of others and to base our identity so strongly on our group affiliations.  I think Howard Thurman was trying to tell us not to spend our lives trying to simply be what “the world” (you could substitute any group to which we belong for world: e.g., nation, community, work peers, family—and, yes, even our church) tells you that you are expected to be.  To say it another way, we shouldn’t feel that we have to censor ourselves in order for “the world” to accept us. No, says Thurman, “Ask what makes you come alive and go do it (be it),” because, whether we realize it or not, what “the world” desperately needs right now is more fully alive people.