Foundation (September 21, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Oh, help me, God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve.
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Though weak, yet longing to believe. (Anne Brontë)

…Listening In…

I love you, O Lord my strength, O Lord my stronghold, my crag, and my haven. My God, my rock in whom I put my trust, my shield, the horn of my salvation, and my refuge; you are worthy of praise. (Psalm 18:1-2)

…Filling Up…

God is the One in whom we can always rest our weight. God is the One who never fails to keep a promise. Therefore, God is the one whom we can always believe. When we reserve the word “believe” for God alone, we can begin to recapture the majesty that the concept of belief has lost through overuse in unworthy situations.

If believing is about resting your weight on something, then belief means knowing and trusting the something that takes your weight. This is your foundation. Every foundation that is not God is not a foundation at all, but a structure built on God, who is the ultimate foundation. God is, so to speak, the ground upon which everything rests. Believing in God is all about not being content until you find that ground, that deepest foundational level, upon which to rest your weight.

Through metaphors about rocks and strongholds, the people who wrote the Bible express this understanding of God being the foundation. At the end of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus expresses this same understanding when he tells the story about two people, one who built a house on sand and the other who built a house on rock. Of course, the house built on the rock weathers the storm. The next time you use the word “believe,” ask yourself if the context surrounding that word is your rock and your foundation. If not, I invite you to try a different word.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you are my rock and my foundation. You are the ground on which I walk, the One walking with me, and the One to whom I am destined. Help me believe in you so that I may see your road laid out beneath me; in Jesus Christ’s name. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, knowing that you are the foundation of all truth. You believe in me, which allows me to believe in you.

Always (September 20, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Oh, help me, God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve.
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Though weak, yet longing to believe. (Anne Brontë)

…Listening In…

After eight days his disciples were again in a house and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked, Jesus entered and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe!” (John 20:26-27; context)

…Filling Up…

On Monday, I mentioned that belief is a tricky concept. It’s tricky for several reasons. Here’s one. Yesterday, I used the image of jumping into a parent’s arms on your first visit to the pool. You jumped because you believed what your parent said. He or she would catch you, no matter what. Equating this belief with belief in God is where everything gets tricky. Here’s the problem.

There is a chance, however slim, that your parent would fail to catch you.

No matter how earnestly we believed in a parent’s infallibility or a coach’s perfection or a teacher’s omniscience, those people turned out to be…well, people. They were all stricken with the gene for human failure. Of course, not being perfect didn’t make them bad people. It just made them people. When we equate our belief in humans with our belief in God, we often make the mistake of hedging our bets were God is concerned. We apply to God the expectations we have when we believe in other people, thus unwittingly reducing God’s power and glory to the levels that fit comfortably in a human body.

Now, please don’t misunderstand. I’m not telling you to cut off all human contact because those fallible humans are not to be trusted. Human beings are fundamentally good. We usually do the right thing. We usually live up to the trust others have in us. What I am saying is this: there is no “usually” with God. God always does the right thing. God always lives up to the trust we place in God. So when you speak of belief, remember that God is the One in whom you can always rest your weight.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you are present in my life and you are constantly breathing creation into being: help me to believe in you so that I may see your movement in my life and help others to see your movement in theirs; in Jesus Christ’s name. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, knowing that you are the foundation of all truth. You believe in me, which allows me to believe in you.

The Edge of the Pool (September 19, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Oh, help me, God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve.
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Though weak, yet longing to believe. (Anne Brontë)

…Listening In…

Unbelief is as much a choice as belief is. What makes it in many ways more appealing is that whereas to believe in something requires some measure of understanding and effort, not to believe doesn’t require much of anything at all. (Frederick Buechner)

…Filling Up…

As we discovered yesterday with the story about the farmer in the Amazon River basin, to believe in something is to rest all of your weight on that something. Think about the first time you ever went to the pool. The older kids who knew how to swim were doing cannonballs into the deep end and playing Marco Polo in the shallows. The teenage boys were casting furtive glances at the lifeguard in her red one-piece, sunglasses, and layers of tanning lotion. The adults were laying in reclining lawn chairs around the edge of the pool, far enough away to be out of the splash zone.

But you took no notice of any of this. You were too busy contemplating your next action. You were standing by the edge of the pool, your toes curled over the cement lip of the shallow end. You had your arms crossed in front of you and your knees bent in. Your teeth chattered – from either fear or cold, you couldn’t tell. And there was your Dad standing three feet from you. He was standing waist deep in the water like a titan, impervious to Poseidon’s attempts to plunge him under. And he was extending his arms out to you, beckoning you to jump. He would catch you, of course, he said. You would not drown. You would be safe. You would have fun once you got used to the water. All you needed to do was jump into his arms.

You had a choice to make. You could waddle back to the safety of the towels and the bag with your older sister’s change of clothes in it. Or you could jump, believing with all your might that your Dad would catch you, that you could rest all of your weight in his embrace.

…Praying For…

Dear God, I believe that you hold your hands out to catch me whenever I begin to fall. Help me to remember that when I take a leap of faith, you are both the water into which I plunge and the hands that help me float. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, knowing that you are the foundation of all truth. You believe in me, which allows me to believe in you.

Resting my Weight (September 18, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Oh, help me, God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve.
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Though weak, yet longing to believe. (Anne Brontë)

…Listening In…

Jesus said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?” (John 14:1-2; context)

…Filling Up…

This week, we are working to reclaim the natural habitat of the word “believe.” I think that the habitat finds its place in God alone. Saying “I believe” about anything else waters down the word. The best way to talk about the word “believe” is to tell a story. Here’s a version of one that I heard a priest friend of mine tell a while back (and he heard it from someone, too, so there’s no telling to whom this story belongs).

A Bible scholar trekked deep into the heart of the Amazon River basin, and there he found an indigenous tribe that had barely had any contact with the outside world. Like any decent Bible scholar would do, he set about learning the language of the people in order to translate the Good Book into the local tongue. While staying in the village, he lived with a farmer and his wife. For months, the scholar worked and worked: he listened to the people talking, made notes, slowly built a lexicon, and then set to the task of translation. He spread his papers out over the rough wooden table in the kitchen of the hut and put pen to paper.

But soon he stopped. He was stuck. In all his study, he had never heard the villagers use a word that seemed to him synonymous with “belief,” which was, after all, an important word in the Bible. He put his pen down and sat there, just thinking and feeling sorry for himself. Just then, the farmer came in from the fields all hot and sticky from a hard day’s labor. He sat down in the chair opposite the scholar, leaned back on two legs, propped his feet on the table, and let out a grateful sigh. In halting words, the scholar asked the farmer what his word for “believe” was. The farmer didn’t understand. The scholar tried to explain using other words, and comprehension dawned on the farmer. “Do you see me sitting here,” he said in his own language. “I am leaning back in this chair after a hard day’s work. My feet are up. I am resting all of my weight on these two legs.”

And the scholar found his word.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you are the source of my belief and the foundation upon which I rest all of my weight. Thank you for being a sure and steady foundation; in Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, knowing that you are the foundation of all truth. You believe in me, which allows me to believe in you.

The Word “Believe” (September 17, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Oh, help me, God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve.
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Though weak, yet longing to believe. (Anne Brontë)

…Listening In…

[The LORD] brought [Abram] outside and said, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your descendants be.” And he believed the LORD; and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness. (Genesis 15:5-6; context)

…Filling Up…

For several years now, I have tried to reserve the word “believe” and use it only when I’m talking about God. This is tricky because practitioners of modern English rarely treat the word with that kind of discretion. Every once in a while, a conversation partner asks me some variation of the following question: “So, do you believe in _______?” Unless the fill-in-the-blank happens to be God or Jesus or the Holy Spirit, I either ask for clarification or say “no,” which generally elicits a quizzical look and a raised eyebrow. Here’s an example.

Other person: “So, do you believe in the Bible?”
Me: “Um…what do you mean?”
Other person: “Ya know, the Bible – do you believe in it?”
Me: “You just asked the same question. Still don’t know what you mean.”

In the end, I find that I have to explain that I try to use the word “believe” only when talking about God. It’s tricky to reserve a word like “believe” for God because the word is so commonplace. But its commonness is a result of the word “believe” becoming watered down and losing its definition. Indeed, “believe” is somehow now synonymous with “think something is okay.”

This week, we are going to explore the word “believe,” and work to reclaim some of its meaning and weight. In the verses from Genesis above, the word is powerful. God just told him that he and his wife Sarai would be parents, despite their old age. God promises Abram that he would be the founder a huge family. Abram believes God, and this belief changes Abram’s life. Be conscious of the next time you say the word “believe”: does the context surrounding the word have the power to change yours?

…Praying For…

Dear God, you have given me the gift of believing that you are present in my life. Help me to live that life in a manner that displays the joyful, generous, and welcoming affects of that presence; in Jesus Christ’s name. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, knowing that you are the foundation of all truth. You believe in me, which allows me to believe in you.

The Spotlight

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

 (Sermon for Sunday, September 16, 2012 || Proper 19B || Mark 8:27-38)

I put the guitar down on the wooden bench, dropped my right knee to the root-strewn ground, and produced the ring from my pocket. The green light that shone through the trees of the outdoor chapel glinted off the diamond and sapphires, a perfect analog for the light that I felt sure was bursting from my own chest. The last words of the song I had just finished singing clung to the hot, humid, late-July air and surrounded us with the most important question I have ever asked: “Leah, darling, will you marry me?” She nodded her head once, unable to find her voice. Then, after an eternal moment during which I could feel in the depths of my soul the momentum of our entire lives converging on that one point in time, she whispered the single word I longed to hear: “Yes.” My hand trembled so much that I had trouble finding her finger with the ring. And as we embraced, I realized something profound – profound and wonderful. I realized that I was no longer the main character in my own life.

For the first 27½ years of my existence, my chief concern, whether I acknowledged it or not, was me. I was Numero Uno, first in line, the Big Cheese. I was in the spotlight. Sure, I lived my life with a dollop of self-sacrifice, of serving the other at my own cost, but this behavior was much more garnish than entree. I was the main character of my life: the rest of the cast never really could rival me for my own attention. Then I met Leah and everything changed. Suddenly, not only did I desire to share the spotlight, I would have been excited to give the prime spot to her alone. A whole new world of service opened up to me that I don’t think I was ever aware of before. When we came together as a couple, I finally understood the joys of self-sacrificial love.

Looking back on those days two years ago, I chuckle at God’s sense of humor and rejoice in God’s providence. I can just hear God the Father saying to God the Son: “You know that Adam Thomas fellow? He’s my beloved child, he’s even a priest of the Church, but he just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand your words, Son, when you said to your friends: ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.’ ”

“You know what we should do?” says God the Son. “We should get him to Massachusetts so he can meet Leah Johnson. I think she will clue him in.”

You see, I spent 27½ years – that’s 93.2% of my life, by the way – trying to have my cake and eat it to. I tried to follow Jesus and remain the main character in my own life. But Jesus’ words and his own self-sacrificial love show us a different way.

Jesus says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” We Americans are programmed to cringe at the thought of “denying ourselves.” We want giant SUVs that have great fuel economy. We want the beer to taste great and be less filling. We want to treat ourselves to chocolate desserts that don’t have any calories. We want to pursue our happiness, and we don’t seem to mind advertisers telling us just what our happiness should look like. These marketers know they will rake in so much more money if they continue convincing us that being the main characters of our own lives is the best way to live.

Until I met Leah, I bought into the hype. I’ll let you in on a secret: when I was in elementary school, my parents sent me to a session or two of therapy because of how awfully and brutally I insisted on getting my own way. The temper tantrums I threw if we didn’t go to the restaurant I wanted to go to were the stuff of legend. One of these tantrums happened on my mother’s birthday. While that behavior faded as I got older, I still succumb all too often to our me-first consumer culture. I’d be willing to bet that you do to.

But when we deny ourselves and stop striving to be the main characters, we no longer feel shortchanged when Jesus spins the spotlight away from us and shines the light on others. These others are always the ones that Jesus desires us to see: the ones who seem to us to be the ensemble, those brought in just to fill out the cast, the extras. In our film, these extras are those who have no roof over their heads or who have no money for food or who lay in the nursing home with no one to visit them. But in God’s film, these extras are the stars. When we insist that the spotlight stay on us, these others remain in the shadows, too unimportant to garner any attention. But when we follow Jesus Christ as he yearns for us to, we let go of our stranglehold on the spotlight and finally see those whom he would have us see.

And when we see in this way, when we notice those outside our own spotlights, something happens that the advertisers and marketing directors never prepared us for. We discover a latent desire that Jesus’ words planted within us when we were looking the other way. We discover the desire to be generous and welcoming to those who never enjoy the spotlight. We look the ensemble cast members in the eye and realize that we want to know their names and where they grew up and what their hopes and dreams for the future are. We turn out our pockets and volunteer our time and invite the stranger to become friend because by doing so we notice clearly the footsteps of Christ walking one step before us. We feel the life of Christ welling up from within us and connecting with the life of Christ welling up from within the other, who now shines in the spotlight.

Jesus Christ is always walking one step before us, but we don’t always walk one step behind him. We stray, we go off on our own, we set up camp rather than continue following. But even with all of our wilderness wanderings and our prima donna tendencies, he continues to stay one step away, calling us back to his path. His path is hard: the way of denial, of self-sacrifice, of cross-carrying. But his path is also the way of true joy.

When we walk down Jesus’ path, the spotlight is never on us, but on those around us, those walking with us. Now that God has blessed me with a partner to remind me that I am not the main character of my life, I have crept slowly and haltingly onto this path and found the joy of stepping out of the spotlight, the joy of generosity and welcoming and service. Perhaps you have, too. Perhaps, as we turn the spotlight on each other and on those Jesus would have us see, together we will notice, there marking the ground in front of us, the footsteps of Jesus Christ.

Go Towards the Light (September 14, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Look upon me, O Lord, and let all the darkness of my soul vanish before the beams of your brightness. (Saint Augustine of Hippo)

…Listening In…

Night will be no more. They won’t need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will shine on them, and they will reign forever and ever. (Revelation 22:5; context)

…Filling Up…

Light expands to fill all the space it can reach; darkness finds no purchase where light is shining. Light allows us to see all the beautiful variety of the visible spectrum; darkness cannot steal away color where light is shining. Light warms us; darkness brings no chill where light is shining. The light of God shines into our hearts and out of our hearts, making us windows through which to see God.

And, after all that, light points the way home.

Perhaps, you are walking down your street at night and you notice that your mother left the porch light on for you. The lamp’s reassuring glow brings you to the safety and warmth of your own house. Coming into a dark house can be a scary proposition, but turning on even a single light changes the experience.

Perhaps, you are driving home from out of town. It is night. It is dark. And the headlights shine only so far in front of you. But they shine all the while: they shine far enough out in front of you to guide you all the way home. Is this not how our walks with God work, as well? Jesus Christ walks one step in front of us and we follow as best we can. Like the headlights, he shines just far enough in front of us to show where to put our feet. But he brings us home.

In the end, darkness never has and never will overcome light. God’s light shines in our lives, which prompts us to shine in the lives of those we meet. The old story says that when you die, you see a white light – the light that people say ushers you into heaven. But the truth is this: that white light doesn’t shine only when you are about to die. That light shines all the time. The Lord shines on all of us, and shines throughout our lives. The Lord shines on us as the sun and as the headlights and as the porch light. The Lord shines on us, pointing the way home to God.

…Praying For…

Dear God, thank you shining on me throughout my entire life. May I soak in your light and reflect it back to all those I meet. May I be a vessel of your holy light, aglow with your presence and aflame with your Holy Spirit; in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, knowing that you are a light that never goes out. You are always shining on the path that takes me home.

Stained Glass Windows (September 13, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Look upon me, O Lord, and let all the darkness of my soul vanish before the beams of your brightness. (Saint Augustine of Hippo)

…Listening In…

God said that light should shine out of the darkness. He is the same one who shined in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory in the face of Jesus Christ. (2 Corinthians 4:6; context)

…Filling Up…

We turn our discussion of light this week to a substance through which light shines. Have you ever wondered why churches have stained glass windows? You don’t see many stained glass windows in secular buildings or in private homes, and you certainly can’t find them for sale at Home Depot. No – churches pretty much have the market cornered on stained glass.

Leaving aside the fact that these windows are pretty and make interesting patterns of light dance across the floor, the purpose for stained glass has since medieval times been to tell stories. When most of the population was illiterate, the best way to teach the Bible was to tell it in picture form in the windows of churches. While some windows are purely decorative, in many the glass takes sunlight and bends it to tell a story. Each panel contains glass of various pigments and shapes, and strung together the light shining through shows scenes from Jesus’ life or images of the saints or other stories.

But I think that another reason that churches have stained glass windows is to remind the people who enter those churches that we are also a type of stained glass. Paul says that God shines in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory in the face of Jesus Christ. God shines in our hearts.

Our hearts can be dim, dank places, but God’s light penetrates them and roots out all that darkness. When our hearts are bright, we can ask God to make us windows so that the light will shine forth from us. But we aren’t just any old windows. We are stained glass. God’s light shines from us each uniquely – our individual gifts and personalities and yearnings act as the panels of colored glass. Through these beautiful panes, God tells the story of how God is moving in our lives. So shine with the knowledge that God’s light has reached your heart. And be radiant.

…Praying For…

Dear God, thank you for shining your light in my heart. Help me to radiate that light forth from myself so that others may know that I am yours. Give me the grace to brighten the lives of all I meet; in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, knowing that you are a light that never goes out. You are always shining on the path that takes me home.

The Sky is on Fire (September 12, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Look upon me, O Lord, and let all the darkness of my soul vanish before the beams of your brightness. (Saint Augustine of Hippo)

…Listening In…

This is the basis for judgment: The light came into the world, and people loved darkness more than the light, for their actions are evil. All who do wicked things hate the light and don’t come to the light for fear that their actions will be exposed to the light.Whoever does the truth comes to the light so that it can be seen that their actions were done in God. (John 3:19-21; context)

…Filling Up…

As we continue to think about light, I keep coming back to the same place: we humans have a tendency to speak of things from a human point of view. This is only natural, of course. But what we rarely take the time to notice is the fact that the human point of view is completely wrong sometimes. Here’s what I mean. You are standing out on your porch after dinner and watching the sun go down. The sky is on fire with yellows and reds deepening into purples and blues. You stand there transfixed until the last ray of light drops below the horizon.

That’s the human point of view. What really happened is this: You are standing out on your porch watching the effects as your little patch of the earth rotates away from the sun. The sky is on fire with yellows and reds deepening into purples and blues. You stand there transfixed until you spin fully away from the sun’s light.

So, in the end, there’s no such thing as a sunset. There’s only our perception of the sun dipping to the horizon. Like the sun, the light of the world (that’s Jesus for those of you keeping score) never goes down, never sets. The light of the world shines on us and into us and out from us all the time. We have the opportunity to walk in that everlasting light by living lives that reflect the truth, beauty, and grace of God. We also have the choice to turn our backs on the light and live lives of convenience, consumption, and degradation. The good news is this: the light of the world shines on us no matter which way we are turned. And the light warms our backs when we are turned away, beckoning us to turn around and walk in the light.

…Praying For…

Dear God, thank you for being the light that never goes out. Please shine on me and help me to reflect your light on all those I meet; in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, knowing that you are a light that never goes out. You are always shining on the path that takes me home.

Give Light to My Eyes (September 11, 2012)

Published on by Adam ThomasLeave a comment

…Opening To…

Look upon me, O Lord, and let all the darkness of my soul vanish before the beams of your brightness. (Saint Augustine of Hippo)

…Listening In…

How long shall I have perplexity in my mind, and grief in my heart, day after day? How long shall my enemy triumph over me? Look upon me and answer me, O Lord my God; give light to my eyes, lest I sleep in death. (Psalm 13: 2-3; context)

…Filling Up…

Imagine that you are lying in bed and, for some reason – perhaps you accidentally set your alarm clock wrong or you have an early hockey practice – you wake up at about 5:30 in the morning. The diameter of the pupils of your eyes grows as your eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. There’s a tiny sliver of soft pre-dawn light sliding under the blinds on the windows – just enough light for pitch dark to soften to regular dark. You lie there trying to fall back to sleep. Sleep doesn’t return, so you try the trick of keeping your eyes open as long as you can in hopes that they will tire and close on their own.

Your eyes rove around your room, and you notice how different the walls and bookcases and trophies and posters look in the near darkness. Everything is there, exactly as you left it last night. But everything looks odd because the darkness has leached the color out of all the objects in the room. The first and second place trophies, usually distinguishable because of their blue and red colors are different only in height now. The clothes in your open closet look like hand-me-downs from the wardrobe department of a black and white film. The world as you know it faded to gray during the night.

“Give light to my eyes,” pleads the person who wrote Psalm 13. The psalmist knows that the world has no vibrancy, no vividness, no vitality without the wonder that is light. Without light, we have no hope of noticing the beauty of all the colors under the sun, all the paint that God brushed and scattered and sloshed onto creation’s canvas. It’s no wonder then that God created light first of all, perhaps because God knew that when we humans came along, we would need that light to live fully in this world. What a gift it is to be able to see all the hues of the flowers in a garden. What a gift it is to be able to tell the difference between football teams. What a gift it is to notice the subtle variations of color in a friend’s eyes. What a gift is light. And we never notice this gift until it’s not there.

…Praying For…

Dear God, thank you for the light with which you show the glory of your creation to your creatures. Give light to my eyes so that I might see all the things you would have me see in all the beauty and complexity that those things possess; in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, knowing that you are a light that never goes out. You are always shining on the path that takes me home.