Gathered, Formed and Sent

Do you expect to be changed when you walk through the doors of your local church for that committee meeting on Tuesday evening? Is your life – your attitudes, your behavior – different after you gather with sisters and brothers for the discussion group or Bible study in someone’s home or at a coffee shop? Are you challenged, comforted, confronted, renewed, reformed, transformed by your presence at worship? Are you moved by your participation in congregational life to find ways in your daily life to share with others what you have so wondrously and freely received in the gathering of God’s people?

Reflecting on Jesus’ appointment of the first twelve apostles in Mark 3:13ff, Darrell Guder[1] suggests a deep evangelical rhythm of gathering and forming disciples (followers) and sending them into the world as apostles (sent ones) and witnesses.

First, Jesus calls his followers to “be with him.” Whenever and in whatever ways we gather as church we gather around Jesus, crucified and risen for us and for the world. This Jesus claims us in baptism, feeds us at table, speaks to us through God’s Word, and transforms and reshapes us – each of us – into his self-giving image. Being with Jesus, however, is not the end; it’s the beginning.

Transformed, empowered and equipped, those who have been with Jesus are “sent out to proclaim the message.” That is not just the pastor’s job! Every person who is with Christ, marked with his cross and sealed with his Spirit, is sent to make known Christ’s good news in the world. Everyone. That’s why we are called to be with Jesus in the first place.

But there is just a bit more. Jesus gives his sent ones (apostles) “authority to cast out demons.” Speaking the good news of Jesus is intimately woven together with the embodiment of it, visible and concrete witness to the forgiving, curing, raising, cleansing, freeing power of Jesus crucified and risen for the life of the world. One is not complete without the other.

Rooted in this biblical rhythm, here are a couple of questions to consider:

How can your community of faith more intentionally and powerfully create space in every gathering of every kind to “be with Jesus”? 

How might your life together be different if everything you did together in large and small groups and gatherings were crafted around the goal of being equipped, empowered and transformed by God’s Spirit for your witness in the world?

For in Christ we speak as persons of sincerity,

as persons sent from God and standing in God's presence.

[2 Corinthians 2:17]

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[1] Darrell Guder, “The Continuing Conversion of the Church.” Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company (March 20, 2000). pp. 50ff

Reminder, Repentance, and Renewal: A Journey from Ashes to Abundant Life

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

and put a new and steadfast spirit within me.

Psalm 51:10

It's time, my sister, my brother. It is time to receive the ashen etching that traces again the oily mark imposed on our brows at baptism. It's time to embark on the transforming trek of Lent.

The journey begins with a smudge on the brow that reminds us who and whose we are: We are broken, battered mortals groping for the God to whom we already belong. We are fragile, failing, fearful creatures, crafted from dust and returning to dust. And...we belong to God. We frail beings belong, ever and always, to the God who does not stand far off, but rather walks alongside us, covered in the very dust and dirt of our days.

Reminded, we repent. After all, our fear, our frailties, our failings move us to act like the world exists for our benefit alone. We use it, and the people in it, in ill-fated attempts to get what we want, what we have convinced ourselves we are due. We turn every which way but the life-giving way of the cross of Christ. Along this journey we repent, we turn again toward the only one who can offer real and abundant life. We fast, we pray, we turn our faces, our hearts and our open hands toward the world that God so loves, the world in which Jesus crucified and risen is getting his hands dirty and his feet dusty.

Along the way, renewal rises as a gift from the dust and ashes of our lives. We broken, battered mortals are forgiven, healed, made new by the God who gropes through the dust to make and remake us into who and what we are created and called to be: children of God and brothers and sisters with all of God's dust-born children.

That's it.  That's the journey...not just this holy season but every season, every day...reminded, repenting, renewed, over and over again on this Lenten way.

Thankfully, as it turns out, we arrive where we begin - in the heart of God and one with God's dusted creation.

Create in us clean hearts, O God,

and put a new and steadfast spirit within us.

Amen

Click this link for an audio version of this blog read by its author

Exact Imprint of God's Being

Listen to this as a podcast at

http://www.iksynod.org/Resources/Podcasts/2012christmasday.html

He is the reflection of God’s glory

and the exact imprint of God’s very being,

and he sustains all things by his powerful word.

[Hebrews 1:3, NRSV; appointed for Christmas Day]

This verse from the first chapter of Hebrews is appointed by the New Revised Common Lectionary for reading on Christmas day.

It’s a great Christmas announcement. It’s not as poetic as the song the angels sang to the shepherds. It might be a bit wordy to fit on a Christmas card. But it pretty much says it all. And it reminds us that all the Advent waiting was worth it.

Here, in this manger – nestled amid dust and dung, straw and struggle, animals and animosity – here in this meager manger is the very reflection of God’s glory.

This little one – not yet weaned and soon to be hunted by the murderous madness of a power-hungry king – this restless little one is the exact imprint of God’s very being.

This child – swaddled in the protection, nurture and life-giving love of others – this vulnerable little kid is the one who sustains all things by his powerful word.

That word, this child, is Emmanuel, God with us, God with the world.

As he accompanied a friend in her battle with lung cancer theologian and author Gerhard E. Frost realized at one point that all he had to give his friend was his middle name, which he had disliked as a kid: Emmanuel.

“What do I know about life?” he wrote. “What do I know about death? I affirm that God is with me. ’Emmanuel’ is the only reason I dare to grow old.”[1]

This child, this Jesus, this Emmanuel, is God’s gift to us, God’s gift to the world, blessing the mangers of our days with the shimmering light of God’s glory.

This child, Emmanuel, is God’s gift to us. He will walk through the world marking apparently God-forsaken people and places with the imprint of God’s very being.

This child is God’s gift to us. He will gather up all the woes, and wounds and weaknesses of the world – including yours and mine – take them to the cross and leave them on the floor of an empty tomb to sustain us and the world with the crucified and living Word of hope and new life, Emmanuel, God with us…ever and always.

To us, to all in sorrow and fear,

Emmanuel comes a-singing,

His humble song is quiet and near,

Yet fills the earth with its ringing. [2]

May the deep and abiding joy of Emmanuel accompany and lead you and yours these Christmas days and all throughout the new year.

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[1] Journey of the Heart: Reflections on Life’s Way, Gerhard E. Frost. Augsburg Fortress, 1995, p. 116.

[2] “Awake! Awake, and Greet the New Morn.” Marty Haugen, Evangelical Lutheran Worship #242.

Come, O Come Emmanuel

O come, O Wisdom from on high,

Embracing all things far and nigh:

In strength and beauty come and stay;

Teach us your will and guide our way.

The “O Antiphons” have been part of the church’s worship for many centuries. In some traditions, one verse is sung or read each of the last seven days of Advent (December 17 through 23). Each antiphon expresses a deep, nearly inexpressible yearning of the human spirit for release, healing, guidance, peace, joy, or new life.

The cry for Wisdom’s embrace rang ‘round the globe on Monday, December 17, the day of the first funerals for victims of the shooting in Newtown, Connecticut.

The need is so great, yearnings run so deep, after something like the Newtown shooting. Hearts are broken. Spirits ache. Whole communities wonder “Why?” and individuals wrestle with “If onlys.” Ire rises. Bewildered minds seek answers. Blame slips from trembling lips and through Facebooking fingers and into broadcast and newsprint commentary. Whole communities cry for change, demand action. And we cry out…

O come, O Wisdom, embracing all things far and nigh:

In strength and beauty come and stay. Teach us your will and guide our way.

Wisdom, not raw reactivity, will guide us in the way of peace. Strength and beauty will provide more permanent and fruitful companionship for this journey than unfettered fear or ugly accusation ever could. Humility, not arrogance or strident stubbornness, will teach and guide us well.

Perhaps this and the other O antiphons can lead us forward through the post-Newtown fog. They call us to allow space in our hearts and our gatherings (as church, as family, as friends, as civilians) for the full-throated expression of our own deepest longings and the sighs too deep for words of the people of Newtown and of all the suffering people in the world who stare at the horizon looking for a way forward.

We make this space through prayer…praying the antiphons (see Hymn #257 in Evangelical Lutheran Worship, see below)…praying the psalms (especially psalms of lament)…praying the liturgies (such as Evening Prayer).

We make such space by walking together…listening…sharing…sitting in silence…lighting candles…singing...sharing peace…holding trembling hands.

We can make such space for the hurt of the world because we trust that if the cradled Christmas child offers anything, he offers the promise of healing, reconciliation, and joy right now, right here where he is born, in the midst of the world’s deepest sorrows, hurts and mysteries. For he is Wisdom, Lord of Might, Branch of Jesse, Key of David, Dayspring, King of Nations, Emmanuel who walks with us, with the people of Newtown – with all the suffering ones of the world – in compassionate companionship every step of the groping journey toward tomorrow’s promised light.

The Advent longing is deep. The Christmas promise is sure. We pour out our hearts and we proclaim the promise, entrusting all broken hearts to the babe of Bethlehem. 

Rejoice; Emmanuel shall come.

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December 17

O come, O Wisdom from on high,

Embracing all things far and nigh:

In strength and beauty come and stay;

Teach us your will and guide our way.

December 18

O come, O come, O Lord of Might,

As to your tribes on Sinai’s height

In ancient times you gave the law

In cloud, and majesty, and awe.

December 19

O come, O Branch of Jesse, free

Your own from Satan’s tyranny;

From depths of hell your people save,

And give them victory o’er the grave.

December 20

O come, O Key of David, come,

And open wide our heav’nly home;

Make safe the way that leads on high,

And close the path to misery.

December 21

O come, O Dayspring, come and cheer;

O Sun of justice, now draw near

Disperse the gloomy coulds of night,

And death’s dark shadow put to flight.

December 22

O come, O King of Nations, come,

O Cornerstone that binds in one:

Refresh the hearts that long for you;

Restore the broken, make us new.

December 23

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

And ransom captive Israel,

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear.

“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” Evangelical Lutheran Worship #257