Storms & Peace / Las Tormentas y la Paz

1 Samuel 17:57-18:5, 10-16 | Psalm 133 | 2 Corinthians 6:1-13 | Mark 4:35-41

After a long day of work, whether it is in the home with the family or outside the home at our job, most of the time we are ready to relax, be still, and rest a while. Maybe you are ready to go to a party every night, I don’t know, but for me, I need lots of quiet time. I hope you get some quiet time, too.

After a long day of being with the crowds, Jesus said it was time to go to the other side, to go across the sea. I imagine his disciples and companions breathing a sigh of relief and willingly boarding the boats to go across to rest even though it is evening time and they have not made preparations, going just as they are. These are good and faithful disciples. They are giving up everything to follow Jesus. They willingly go.

Though the Sea of Galilee is not huge–it is more like a lake, really–when you are in the middle of it, you are vulnerable. On my trip to the Holy Land, we took a boat ride onto the sea, in a boat thought to be somewhat similar to the ones the disciples would have had. It was a windy day. My friends had told me the last time they were there that a strong wind had blown up when they got out to the middle of the sea. Those in charge told them that just happens sometimes, particularly in that place. Fortunately for us, all I had to do was hold on to my hat. Those on the boat with Jesus were getting pounded by the waves, the water at risk of capsizing the boat. It was a great storm, and they were afraid. They were probably shouting at each other, and all the while, Jesus slept on his cushion at the stern.

When we are in the storms of life, when we are worried about finances or concerned for our children, when we fear that our livelihood is at risk or our safety is threatened, when we are really sick–physically or in our hearts–and don’t know if we’ll make it to another day, we might feel like God is not listening to our prayers. It might feel like Jesus is asleep in the middle of our stormy life and not listening to our cries.

But he does hear us. He never leaves us alone. He never leaves us without peace and comfort.

The storm rages until the disciples finally call upon him to wake him up, it seems. Maybe Jesus was waiting until they asked him for help. Maybe they thought they could handle this raging storm on their own. But they could not.

In our baptism, each of us is given power of the Holy Spirit to do great things in our lives. Each of us has been created to fulfill God’s will in this place, in this world. We are perfectly loved by God so that we might share that love with everyone we encounter. But we do not do it on our own.

David, as a young man, did not defeat Goliath on his own. Without God he would not have won. He grows into a great king and does amazing things, having God’s blessing with him. But when he follows his own will, he gets into troubled waters and has to repent and return to the LORD. We might not be kings, but we also know when we go wrong, when we have to correct our ways, and we do so thanks to the grace and mercy of God.

Paul also lists some of the characteristics of what we face as servants of God. The church in Corinth is going through hard times. Paul reminds them that following Jesus is not always easy. They may have to endure affliction, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, and hunger. My heart is heavy as I read this list because we know that there are faithful souls who are enduring this even today–not just in Syria or Sudan but also at our border. We have to show endurance, and we–as they–endure with purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God. In God, these are eternal. They are as bright and new today as they were at Creation, as they were at the Transfiguration and the Resurrection. We have hope through the storms because we are not defenseless. Our greatest weapons are righteousness, honor, goodness, truth, life, joy, abundance, and eternal life.

When the waves are crashing in, and we fear for our lives, we are at risk of closing in upon ourselves. Fear has a way of shrinking us and sinking us into darkness.

But what does Paul tell the Corinthians to do? He speaks to them as if to children and tells them to

“open wide your hearts also.”

Do not be afraid. Open wide your heart in love of God. Open wide your heart in love of Jesus, and be not afraid to call upon him for help in the middle of the storms. With your heart open wide for love of God, it is easier to open wide your heart to love of neighbor, even those for whom it is not so easy to like; we can love them, too, with God’s help. God’s love knows no boundaries. It is especially when we are about to cross over the boundaries that storms may rise. When we cross over those boundaries and troubles arise, we especially need the presence of God in our midst, and we need the calm and peace that only Jesus Christ can give.

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Después de un largo día de trabajo, ya sea en el hogar con la familia o fuera del hogar  en nuestro trabajo, la mayoría del tiempo estamos listos para relajarnos, estar quietos y descansar un rato. Tal vez estés listo para ir a una fiesta todas las noches, no sé, pero para mí, necesito mucho tiempo tranquila o en silencio. Espero que tengas un tiempo tranquilo o silencioso, también.

Después de un largo día de estar con la multitud, Jesús dijo que era hora de ir al otro lado, cruzar el mar. Me imagino a sus discípulos y compañeros dando un suspiro de alivio y abordando con gusto los botes para ir a descansar a pesar de que ya era tarde y no se habían preparado, ellos se van así como están. Estos son buenos y fieles discípulos.  Están abandonando todo para seguir a Jesús. Ellos van voluntariamente.

Aunque  el Mar de  Galilea no es enorme,  en realidad se parece más  a un lago, cuando estás en  medio de él, eres vulnerable. En  mi viaje a Tierra Santa, tomamos un paseo en bote hacia el mar, en un bote que se pensaba que era similar a los que tendrían los discípulos. Fue un día de mucho  viento. Mis amigos me dijeron la última vez que estuvieron allí que hubo un fuerte viento sobre ellos cuando fueron en medio del mar. Los que están a cargo les dijeron  que eso sucede a veces, particularmente en ese lugar. Afortunadamente para nosotros, todo lo que tenía que hacer era sostener mi sombrero. Los que estaban en el bote con Jesús eran golpeados por las olas, el agua que corría era un  riesgo que podía volcar el bote. Fue una gran tormenta, y tenían miedo. Probablemente se estaban gritando el uno al otro, y todo el tiempo, Jesús dormía sobre su almohada en la parte d atrás del Bote.

Cuando  estamos en  medio de las tormentas de la vida, cuando nos preocupan las  finanzas o nos preocupamos por nuestros hijos, cuando tememos  que nuestro sustento esté en peligro o nuestra seguridad se vea amenazada,  cuando estamos realmente enfermos, físicamente o en  nuestros corazones, y no sabemos si llegaremos a otro día, podríamos sentir que Dios  no está escuchando nuestras oraciones. Podríamos sentir que Jesús está dormido en  medio de nuestra vida tormentosa y no escucha nuestros gritos.

Pero él lo hace. Él nunca nos deja solos.  Él nunca nos deja sin paz y sin comodidad.

La  tormenta  arrecia hasta  que los discípulos finalmente lo llaman para que se despierte, al parecer. Tal vez Jesús estaba esperando hasta que le pidieran ayuda. Tal vez  pensaron que podrían manejar esta tormenta furiosa por su cuenta. Pero no pudieron.

En  nuestro  bautismo,  cada uno de nosotros recibe el poder del Espíritu Santo para hacer grandes cosas en nuestras vidas. Cada uno de nosotros ha sido creado para cumplir la voluntad de Dios en este lugar, en   este mundo. Dios nos ama perfectamente para que podamos compartir ese  amor con todos los que nos encontramos.  Pero no lo podemos  hacer solo con nuestra propia fuerza.

David,  como un  hombre joven,  no derrotó a Goliat  con sus propias fuerzas. Sin Dios, no hubiera ganado. Se convierte en  un gran rey y hace cosas increíbles, teniendo la bendición de Dios con él. Pero cuando David sigue su propia voluntad, se mete  en aguas turbulentas y tiene que arrepentirse y volver al SEÑOR. Puede que no seamos reyes, pero también sabemos cuándo nos equivocamos, cuando tenemos que  corregir nuestros caminos, y lo hacemos gracias a la gracia y la misericordia de Dios.

Pablo  también  enumera algunas  de las características  de lo que enfrentamos como  servidores  de Dios. La  iglesia en Corinto está pasando por tiempos difíciles. Pablo les  recuerda que seguir a Jesús no siempre es fácil. Es posible que tengan que soportar aflicciones, dificultades, calamidades, palizas, encarcelamientos, disturbios, trabajos,  noches sin dormir y hambre. Mi corazón está pesado al leer esta lista porque sabemos que hay almas fieles que están soportando esto incluso hoy, no solo  en Siria o Sudán, sino también en nuestra frontera. Tenemos que mostrar resistencia, y nosotros, como ellos, soportamos con pureza, conocimiento, paciencia,  bondad, santidad de espíritu, amor genuino, palabras veraces y el poder de Dios. En Dios, estos son eternos. Son tan brillantes y nuevos hoy como lo fueron en la Creación, como  lo fueron en la Transfiguración y la Resurrección. Tenemos esperanza a través de las tormentas porque no estamos indefensos. Nuestras mejores armas son la justicia, el honor,  la bondad, la verdad, la vida, la alegría, la abundancia y la vida eterna.

Cuando  las olas  se estrellan  en nosotros y  tememos por nuestras  vidas, corremos el riesgo  de encerrarnos en nosotros mismos. El miedo tiene una forma de encogernos y hundirnos en la oscuridad.

Pero qué les dice Pablo a los corintios que hagan? Él les habla a ellos como a niños y les dice que

“abran también sus corazones”.

No tengas miedo. Abra de par en par su corazón en  amor de Dios. Abra de par en par su corazón en amor por Jesús, y no tenga miedo de pedirle ayuda en medio de las tormentas. Con el corazón abierto para el amor de Dios, es más fácil abrir de par en  par su corazón al amor al prójimo, incluso a aquellos a quienes no es fácil amar, también podemos amarlos con la ayuda de Dios. El amor de Dios no conoce fronteras. Es especialmente cuando estamos a punto de cruzar los límites es cuando las tormentas   pueden aparecer. Cuando cruzamos esos límites y surgen problemas, es cuando especialmente necesitamos la presencia de Dios en medio de nosotros, y necesitamos la calma y la paz que solo Jesucristo puede dar.

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Breaking In, Making Way

Isaiah 40:1-11 | 2 Peter 3:8-15a | Mark 1:1-8 | Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13

There’s part of me that wants a rally cry from the church to come down from above, stop us in our tracks, and realign everything so that we’re all fixed in God’s will. So when I hear the words of Isaiah to “make straight in the desert a highway for our God,” I get excited. Yes! This is it. Finally, “every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low.” We’ll get the level playing field for equality and justice to be manifest so the Glory of God can be revealed, for all to see it together. That’s the beloved community I long for. And the Gospel of Mark repeats this, basically. Only, it’s not so much a rally cry as it is an introduction . . . for John the Baptist, a man of the wilderness, humble and unworthy, yet baptizing many.

This is why we can’t solely proof-text the Bible, why we can’t just pick and choose verses of Scripture to hold onto. Well, we can certainly hold onto verses of Scripture for the strength and assurance we need; I have one stuck to my laptop screen (Jn 15:11). But we also need to know the context of the greater picture.

As much as I want Isaiah to be a rally cry for social justice–and it very well can be–it’s also part of an image of the way the world is when God’s will is manifest. The Israelites have suffered under oppression and are at that time returning to their land, something they didn’t think could or would happen. What’s happening is that what they least expected is actually happening, what they don’t deserve is being granted because God is faithful in God’s covenant with them. Their journey this time won’t be forty years’ wandering in the wilderness, but the path will be straight for them. In that moment, this is an observation of the mercy of God, even as we also get a picture of the fickleness of the people with whom God is in relationship and know their struggles are not over.

We get an even richer image of God’s manifestation in Psalm 85. God is speaking peace (shalom) to the faithful: peace, the fruit of forgiveness. What does it look like? Like mercy and truth meeting together, like righteousness and peace kissing each other, like truth springing up from the earth and righteousness looking down from heaven, like abundance for all and peace as the pathway. Just thinking this fills my imagination and heart with goodness, but it’s highly conceptual. I read a story about a group who created a physical “Road to Shalom” so youth groups could actually walk a way of peace. They had signs that said “Steadfast Love,” “Faithfulness,” “Righteousness,” and “Peace.” Using Ps. 85, vs. 10, they had youth hold the signs and act out the verse. Steadfast Love and Faithfulness met one another (our “Mercy” and “Truth” in the NRSV translation; NIV has “love” and “faithfulness”), and Righteousness and Peace exchanged a kiss (among much giggling). This was a very physical, tangible experience, a way to embody the path of peace so that our finite minds can try to fathom the greatness of God’s glory.

Whereas the Word of God does stand forever, we are more like the grass and flowers that wither and fade. Our Epistle reading reminds us that with God “one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.” We know with God there’s that timelessness and all time, the kairos time I’ve referred to before. With that perspective of all time, I cannot even imagine the kind of enduring patience that waits for us to turn our hearts toward the way of peace. That kind of steadfast love that waits for us to acknowledge the truth of our condition of suffering. That kind of goodness that accepts us wholly and unconditionally.

I want a rally cry, and I’m offered a way of Peace. I’m reminded of the patience of God who is waiting on me, when I think I’m waiting on God.

I’m waiting for God to intervene in the Middle East crisis and the poverty crisis and the refugee crisis and every single one of our life crises. And I think surely this Christmas we’ll remember that Christ has come and been made manifest and that we have all the power of the Holy Spirit to make all things new, . . . but I’m told to wait. To be still. To listen. To be alert and awake. And to heed the messengers who have gone before me. And to repent for my sins. So that I can be ready to meet Christ at his Birth and at his Second Coming. That’s a lot to do for one “just” waiting.

I want a rally cry to make the world a better place, and I’m so outwardly focused that I miss that God is waiting on me. And on you.

Wait. Be still. Prepare yourself. Listen. A rally cry will come…has already come…and broken into our world. God has prepared a way of peace, determined a pathway long ago. Who’s to say it’s not already written on our hearts? We might stumble upon the path of peace, but what happens when we prepare ourselves for it? What happens if we help reveal it to others?

What does it mean for us to “make straight in the desert a highway for our God”? Would it be like parting the Red Sea or the Jordan River? Or making way through the crowds clamoring for healing or throwing down palm fronds on the way into Jerusalem? Is it really the people doing the “making way”? Or are the people the ones noticing enough to direct attention at what is breaking into the world, right into the midst of all the messiness and struggle, settling into our heart and spreading to our minds and lives.

And this in-breaking presence of God speaks peace to the faithful, to those who have their hearts turned toward God.

So we don’t have to go to someplace that tells us it’s trying to create a visual of the path of peace. We live it. Frederick Buechner said, “The birth of the child into the darkness of the world made possible not just a new way of understanding life but a new way of living it.” People the world over don’t have to wonder what it’s like to live outside of God’s love because God’s love already broke into our world and prepared for us the Way to salvation. But we forget that we’re in this eternal covenant of God’s steadfast love and grace and mercy. And we have to be reminded that when we greet one another with peace, whether we’re in church or in our cars or on the phone or in the restaurant or the grocery store, we are walking along the path of peace, one that was and is and yet will be.

Steadfast love/mercy and faithfulness/truth meet not just like teenagers on a youth trip, shaking hands and exchanging names. Mercy and truth meeting looks like legislators listening to the constituents showing up at their offices in D.C., outlining the affect health care has on their lives, how grateful they’ve been for the dialysis they’ve received or for every effort made by the medical team to heal the child and provide a refuge for the parents as they watched their child die. In this coming together of mercy and truth, righteousness and peace kiss, coming together in a communion of intimacy and love that bears fruit of something good for all, in legislation that benefits the most, especially the least recognized, the most invisible.

I want a rally cry, and I’m invited to be still. Be alert. Notice the pathway of peace that signals where the feet of God have trod–to the altar, to the food bank doors, to the waiting rooms of health centers, to the kitchen table, to the artist’s canvas, to the inventor’s studio, the programmer’s desk, to the child’s imagination, and to the student’s mind–to everywhere Holy Spirit gives us a taste of the grace and mercy, righteousness and peace that creates what is Good for each of us and all of us. In our haste, chances are we’ve paved over the holy with our good intentions and self-interest, creating a different kind of highway that helps us navigate the mountains and valleys without thinking too much about it. And we have the soundtrack of our lives playing so loudly that there’s no way we’ll hear the voice of a weird-looking guy in the wilderness or even a still, small voice within, nudging us to stop a minute and notice the glimmer of light out of the corner of our eye.

There’s a way that’s been prepared for us. There’s a light that’s broken in in the most unlikely of ways. God’s waiting for us to notice and follow the path.

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When We Are Our Own Worst Enemy

I received an e-mail that reminded me today marks the anniversary of when the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima.  The nuclear weapon was named “Little Boy.”  The one that was dropped on Nagasaki three days later was called “Fat Man.” (for more on the events of those days, you can visit Wikipedia.

In sixty-three years, am I correct in believing that weapons such as these have not been used?  But the potential of them is weighty, ever-present.  The intent for using them hasn’t gone away, either — power, domination, intimidation, destruction.  These are decidedly masculine attributes.  Is it mere irony that the names of the bombs are masculine, too?

We all have infinite potentiality within.  We have our feminine and masculine attributes.  We have our strengths and weaknesses, our superiorities and inferiorities, that which we build and that which we destroy within each of our feminine and masculine selves.  It is our responsibility to hold these in balance, yes?

That’s why we need each other, our community, to help one another find our balance, share our insights, give us another perspective.   Alone we can convince ourselves that we mean well, that our intent is good and true, our course of action the only way.  But our ego is strongest when given an attentive audience, the slope slippery once we yield to it.  And any one person in power is just as susceptible as the rest of us.

That’s why in America we’re supposed to have the system of checks and balances.  That’s why in families it can work best where there are two raising the children.  Left to our own devices, we can do some incredibly regrettable, irreversible things — when we are out of balance, out of sync.

For our own sake and for the sake of others, may we know peace, the true peace that resides within, lest we be our own worst enemy.

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Standing for Peace When All Hell’s Broken Loose

The streets are filled with crime, the prisons overcrowded, the drugs too available and the bombs too frequent.  The wails and moans get closer, the burdens too heavy.

The laundry is more dirty than clean, the dishes crowd the counter and hide the sink.  A mass of papers and unopened mail cover the desk.  The kids are sick and the checking account overdrawn.  The refrigerator is bare, and the price of gas just went up again, just in time for the van to need a refill.

Both scenarios are very real, and I venture to say that both are images of hell.  What is hell but an everpresent suffering, seemingly inescapable?  Yet hell can be overcome with a heaping dose of peace grounded in love — or perhaps it is love grounded in peace.  Undoubtedly the two are so intertwined it matters little.  Before the moans become our own and our vision clouded by the fog of negativity, we have to utter words of love, evoke a sense of peace and see the Light present in all.

How many times has great suffering brought about great realizations, great triumphs and understandings?  If you cannot find one example, perhaps you haven’t thought long enough or listened closely enough.  Perhaps you just missed it altogether.  Not to worry.  Just brace yourself since it will come again.

I do not mean to over-simplify.  There is a suffering in the world that I have not and probably cannot fathom.  The genocide in Darfur, the plight of refugees, the millions of homeless and hungry.  I do believe in the power of the collective, though.  One positive thought attracts more, light attracts light, and if we all were to focus and/or pray on peace and contentment, wouldn’t the world be different?

Quite obviously, we all have difficult lessons to learn, obstacles to overcome.  We haven’t learned how to love one another with our whole heart.  Whether at the market or in the home, in our hometown or in a different country, we have to be able to stand for and in peace if we are to improve ourselves, our kids and our humanity.  This is hard; at least, it is when you’re not used to it.  It’s like how they say to frown takes more muscles than to smile.  Really, it takes less energy to love someone than it does to harbor animosity, anger or fear towards them.

It helps to have support, to surround yourselves with others in a unified effort.  It isn’t a bad thing to stand for peace when it seems all hell has broken loose.  You are embodying the change you wish to see.  You cannot force peace with brutality any more than you can clean the house by bringing in more dirt and grime. 

“Be the change you wish to see,” said Gandhi and one of my bumper stickers.  Be the peace you wish to see. Start at home or start in the public.  It may actually be harder to be truly peaceful to those you love most — it was and is for me.  I am a work in progress.  I get my glimpses of hell, feel the suffering and have to remember I can still breathe into the Spirit.  I still have hope, and I can stand for peace here and now.

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