Sacrifice and Celebration

It’s fitting that it’s only now, for the first time in eons, that I’m able to make the time and the effort for a new blog post. This is the season of Lent, a season of discipline.

I grew up (and still am) Baptist, and Lent was not something we talked about or observed in my early years. It wasn’t until high school that I heard of the mysterious “Maundy Thursday.” I wasn’t part of a Good Friday Tenebrae service until about 5 years ago, while I was hospice chaplain and a member of Emmanuel Baptist Fellowship in Lexington, SC. By that time I was a seminary grad, and it was at my (interdenominational) seminary, Beeson Divinity School, that I first was asked by someone what I was giving up for Lent. Probably an Episcopalian. (I hadn’t planned to give up anything, thanks much.)


Sacrifice isn’t that popular an idea in our consumption-driven culture. Perhaps it’s that contrast that makes Lent intriguing to me. Or maybe it’s the appeal of the unfamiliar and new (to me; Lent is OLD), making Lent seem exotic and exciting. In theory, at least. In previous years, my attempts to give up something for Lent have generally been wildly unsuccessful. Me and discipline? Distant acquaintances, at best, and we don't really get along, to be honest.

This year, I’m trying something different. Two days in (38 to go), I’m doing well. It’s early yet, but I’m hopeful the excitement will last this time. Because I've finally understood that despite the common perception, Lent isn’t really about giving something up. The sacrifice is a means, not an end. We sacrifice a human good for a divine better.

I think Lent, like Advent, is really about preparation. We get ready to celebrate Easter (the resurrection of the One Who saved us from sin and death) by reflecting on our need for a Savior. We give up something important to us, that has a grip on us. We turn that time and energy from what we've given up and put that into the Kingdom of God instead.

So this Lenten season, I’m giving up buying meals when I’m alone. I’m a single guy who works many, often most, nights. And I’m really not a cook. So I buy most (75% or more, breakfast, lunch, and supper) of my meals from a restaurant – occasionally going and eating there, but more often (and more problematically) doing take out or fast food.

Giving this up is clearly in my own best interests, as are most of the “sacrifices” God asks from us. Eating out is more expensive and less healthy. By fixing meals at home, I’ll consume less empty calories, get more nutrients, and save money. Still, I tried this last year, and it was (as alluded to above) a spectacular failure. The personal benefits didn't outweigh the sheer inconvenience. Getting up earlier to fix meals? Fixing meals at the end of a work day? Blargh. Last time I tried this it just made me grumpy.

But this year, any day I’m unmotivated to cook, or inclined to cheat, I’m shifting focus. I'm going to figure out what meal I want and how much money it would cost me. Then I'm going to donate that amount.

I’m not sure where I’ll donate it to – there are lots of good possibilities. Maybe the Change This World fundraiser our youth are involved in for summer camp. It’s very likely to go to one of the five initiatives from the YouChoose video. Maybe it’ll go to a smaller, more local organization - the Food Pantry here at Westfield, Love Wins Ministries in Raleigh, Union Mission in Roanoke Rapids.

The point is, each time I’m tempted to give in, I can do something positive instead. Ironically, the less tempted I feel, the less money I’ll raise. Conversely, the more money I give, the more tempted and flawed it’ll mean I am. :) But if anyone else wanted to join me by doing something similar in your life, so that we could celebrate together how God led us to take something unhealthy and turn it to something good - that would be cool to hear about from you folks!

Caveats and fine print: I can still eat out if invited by someone else. I don’t get to share a meal with someone else all that often, and doing so is a Good Thing. Also, one day a week is a day of celebration, when the Lenten restriction is relaxed. Hey, I didn't come up with this! But I am adapting it to my situation. Traditionally the day of celebration is Sunday, the day of worship. For the time being, I’m going to make it Thursday, my day off. This is part of trying to more closely observe Sabbath on my off-day – another Lenten discipline, actually.

So that’s the plan for Lent this year. How about you? How are you spending Lent? How are you preparing to celebrate the Savior?

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Vocation Check-up

51 weeks ago, in one of my last posts before my hiatus, I wrote this:

My understanding of vocation may be shifting, by the way.
I still agree and am passionate about what I've said [about "being a minister"] - being a reminder [to others that they are ministers, too], equipper, and community-builder. But there's another element that's come to the surface in the last few years, an element that working in hospitals and hospices has helped to crystallize, as well as reading literature from the emerging church and my own Bible study.

I have seen too many men and women die feeling lonely and cut off from the church…too many people die without believing they are loved, or that God intended for them, for us all, to have lives of meaning and purpose - to know that we are of infinite value. I have watched people die who never got to the point where they trusted that.

My dream is to be a part of a church community that is not content to leave those needs in other hands. My dream is to be a part of a church that believes Jesus meant it when he said that whatever we have done for the least of these - feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for the sick, visiting the prisoners and the oppressed - whatever we have done for them, we have done for Christ.

And whatever we have not done for them, we have not done for Christ.

The fact is, the church is meant to be doing this work....

More true than ever. And hard to do. Churches, like every institution, take on a life of their own. It's completely possible to get so involved in maintaining the daily functioning of the group that you don't attend to things outside. It shouldn't be possible. But it is. And this is why we need church. For all the pit-falls of an organization, there's also a corresponding benefit. Church is doing what it's supposed to when the people you're with challenge and inspire you to reach out, open up (to God and neighbor), to dream and to experiment on ways to join God in the world.

If you're part of a church that doesn't do that, you may need to look for another.

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Move over, Iron Man...

...it's Fusion Man!

This is apparently real, folks. I can't decide if it's purely cool, or if I'm concerned about the waste of fuel...though I plan to jet ski Saturday, so I'm gonna go with "cool." Clearly, if I'm to take over the world, I must obtain one of these. Bwah-hah-hah!

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Happy Day, all!

Happy Pentecost everybody - may God's Spirit be poured out on you or well up within you today...may it be a day of encouragement, empowerment, and blessing, so that you may bless, encourage, and empower others.

And hey, don't forget that it's Mother's Day! Hey mom - see you in about 14 hours!

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Discipleship Emerging, pt. 3 - Chaplaincy

As I work through this job hunting process, my thoughts have done a lot of circling around what *type* of job to look for, as I've already written about (endlessly). A calling or vocation is not a calling to a job description. I feel like being a minister *is* who I am - or who I'm called to be/become. I also think all people are called to be ministers, in some way - and that for me, what it means to be a minister is that I'm a reminder-er - my role is to remind others that they are ministers. And, I guess, to support them and equip them as they go about ministry/service/working for the kingdom in their own spheres of influence. And to remind them they're not alone, and foster community and connection between the various spheres. And...well, that's enough!

So whatever job I have at any point, it doesn't have to be identical with my calling...but it does need to be consistent. I was becoming progressively troubled as a healthcare chaplain, because my primary understanding of my calling - reminding and equipping and building up - wasn't what I was spending most of my time doing. This, as much as frustration over paperwork and evil corporate greed and governmental waste, is why I'm not a chaplain right now.

Well, being laid off had something to do with it, too.

But I'd already decided I wouldn't stay more than another year. Really. Anyway...to some extent, volunteering at my church and with the college ministry while working in hospice as a 'day job' worked. But hospice isn't really the kind of thing you can do long term if you're not really passionate about it. And while it generally worked ok, sometimes it didn't leave much emotional energy for volunteering, even though that was the stuff I 'really' wanted to do. It was frustrating to know you were doing second-best at things that were most important to you. Meanwhile, I was trying to find ways to be who I am - a reminder-er (really need a better word!) and equipper, but thinking I really ought to be around people who were going to live long enough to do something with the insights they were having...

When the hospice job evaporated, I took that as my cue that it was time to shift to doing a job that was where my heart was - in the church.

My understanding of vocation may be shifting, by the way. I still agree and am passionate about what I've said - being a reminder, equipper, and community-builder. But there's another element that comes to the surface in the last few years, an element that working in hospitals and hospices has helped to crystallize, as well as reading literature from the emerging church, and my own Bible study.

I have seen too many men and women die feeling lonely and cut off from the church…too many people die without believing they are loved, or that God intended for them, for us all, to have lives of meaning and purpose - to know that we are of infinite value.

I have watched people die who never got to the point where they trusted that. At best, I could say that because of me and even more the nurse's aides, nurses, and social workers, they at least were *told* that they mattered. More, they saw people *acting* as if they mattered. That's something. For some of my patients, there was no one else in their lives telling them those things.

We all bear some responsibility for the lives we lead, and I'll grant you that many of those folks made choices that contributed to their isolation. But so what? We all fall short, and some of us only have bad choices to start with. The fact remains, whatever else, that often hospice was standing in the gap in solidarity with those patients when no one else was. Not family...not church.

(Not to say I didn't encounter many incredible and inspiring families, and churches, and a synagogue. Sometimes things - people - work out. Sometimes they don't.)

My dream is to be a part of a church community that is not content to leave those needs in other hands. My dream is to be a part of a church that believes Jesus meant it when he said that whatever we have done for the least of these - feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for the sick, visiting the prisoners and the oppressed - whatever we have done for them, we have done for Christ.

And whatever we have not done for them, we have not done for Christ.

The fact is, the church is meant to be doing this work...and when we're doing it right, no one does it better. Can you imagine showing any more love and compassion and solidarity for the desperately poor of Calcutta than Mother Teresa did? She's a model for us. Christ is the model for us.

The hospice I worked for was a business...at the end of the day, decisions about how we gave care were made with concern for the bottom line, and the value of the company's stock. The decision to eliminate a chaplain position - to go from having a full-time ministerial presence in the hospice house, to a chaplain visiting 10-15 hours a week (though I know he does 20 or more - go Tom!)...this was not a decision based on care for patients. Nor do I believe it was based on financial necessity. It was based on cutting corners...on not valuing spiritual care for the dying. Because the model of what we "had to provide" is set by industry standards of care, concocted to meet Medicare guidelines. Which is fine...but it's a different model than the model of Christ.

I know...it's just business. In our culture, that excuses pretty much anything that isn't actively illegal. But...Amos 5:10-13, 15 should speak to our culture.
They hate him who reproves in the gate,
and they abhor him who speaks the truth.
Therefore because you trample on the poor
and you exact taxes of grain from him,
you have built houses of hewn stone,
but you shall not dwell in them;
you have planted pleasant vineyards,
but you shall not drink their wine.
For I know how many are your transgressions
and how great are your sins—
you who afflict the righteous, who take a bribe,
and turn aside the needy in the gate.
Hate evil, and love good,
and establish justice in the gate;
it may be that the LORD, the God of hosts,
will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph.

End of the day - I feel called, compelled, to find a way to minister to the lost and least, the overlooked and neglected...to serve as a reminder that they are loved, that there is purpose and meaning for their lives, to help them find community. My dream...whatever my job...is to be a part of a church community that embraces that, not as an occasional project, but as the meaning of our lives - the working out of our calling - the source of our joy.

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