The full armor of God

This morning my personal devotion was in Ephesians. I don't follow any set devotion, but usually try to find something relevant to whatever is floating around my heart or mind to meditate on for a while. This morning I was looking for encouragement because it's lent and my life is a little crazy right now, professionally and personally. I read Ephesians 6:10-17:

 

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

I don't generally enjoy the war metaphors Paul sometimes uses in his letters, because I think it encourages a certain type of martyr complex which is unhealthy, especially in my context (middle America, where some schools still have release time in the afternoon for church education). It breeds this paranoid 'war on Christianity' stuff. There is a war on Christianity in some places in the world where Christians are still persecuted and killed, but that ain't here. But I think it's a helpful metaphor if you are careful to define what you are defending yourself from and how you're doing it. I don't think God calls us to war, but I do think that spiritual warfare is very real in our lives. I got to thinking about what that looks like in my life.

I don't generally feel attacked by outside forces in my life. Maybe it's because I'm a white kid raised by upper middle class parents, but I can't complain too much. I've gotten some funny looks from my fiance's more atheistic colleagues because they don't quite know how to handle starting a friendly relationship with a minister-to-be, but I would hardly call that something I need to defend against. I've found in my life that the harshest attacks on my faith are the most subtle, and usually they're not external. The biggest thing attacking me right now is probably a lack of confidence that I am equipped to do the job God has called me to do. That kind of thinking, at least in me, breeds some despair and fear, and turns out to be very draining of my energy. The thing which is attacking me isn't from the world, but from my own lack of trust. I know it's a lie, but it feels very real to me, and plays on my deepest insecurities of never being good enough or capable enough.

My hunch is that Paul is talking about here isn't just defending against outside things, but against the kind of subtle, insidious lies that threaten our identity in Christ. These lies sound just plausible enough to ring in our heads and breed more lies. We know, of course, that the best antidote to lies is truth, and so he provides tools for defense against the insecurities, stumbling blocks, fears, selfish ambitions and other things that weaken us and our relationship with God and one another. In fact, he begins with the belt of truth, the underlayer that holds your pants up. This is the foundation. Righteousness is not just about our behavior but about our being made righteous. Arm yourself with the identity that you are worthy, loved, and redeemed. Put on shoes that will enable you to live that out, to walk forward proclaiming what God has done for you and others. The shield is of faith, the thing revealed to us through Christ's work, that which gives us something tangible to hold onto--the death and resurrection of Christ. Put on the helmet of salvation and use the word of God as your sword to destroy the lies told to you and about you.

What this meant for me in my reflection this morning is that the most dangerous evil in my life right now is doubting who I am and what I'm called to be. Being tentative about my call sometimes makes me feel like a failure who will never be good at anything. Most days I don't think that's true, but some days I do. But the defense is that even if it is true that professional ministry is ultimately not my calling, I am still a child of God created lovingly, called worthy and given a special calling in the world. I know that, and it's important for me to be able to root my identity not in what I'm doing but in what God is doing for me. I have no idea what I'm doing most days, let alone what God is doing! But my strength comes from the truth that even if I don't know who I am or what I'm doing, God does. I can't rely on my own strength, but I can be strong knowing that despite all the fear and anxiety, insecurity, and everything else attacking me, God is defending me.

Week 2

Monday, February 25^th

Reading: Genesis 17:1-8

Reflection:

Sometimes it's hard to see a future of hope in the midst of struggles, fear and uncertainty. God called Abraham to Canaan and blessed him and gave him a promise. Do you feel like this relationship between God and Abraham is pertinent to you and your life? God calls Abraham and his descendants his children. What does that say about you? What does it mean to be the child of someone? What kinds of things, in your best moments as a parent or caregiver, have you done for another? How much more will God do for you?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer:

God, my heavenly parent and caregiver, help me to understand who I am according to your promise, and what you are doing with that promise. Help me hold to it when the road is difficult, and help me to remember that you are the source of blessing when your promises are blossoming to fruition before me. In Jesus name. Amen.

Tuesday, February 26^th

Reading: Genesis 17:1-8

Reflection: It's hard to take a leap of faith and move forward toward a goal when you aren't sure how to get there. Often in life, God may give you an inkling that you have a mission, but leaves the details up to you. How annoying! Meditate on what Abraham must have felt, being called away from his land and told in spite of being a foreigner, in spite of his old age, in spite of his wife's barren womb, that he would be the father of a nation. How scary!Think about a place in your life where you are feeling led. Do you know how to get there? Are you able to trust the one that called you there? Sometimes trust looks less like an enthusiastic jump and more like a tentative, terrified shuffle. But movement is movement—can you feel God holding your hand as you learn to walk?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: Giver and keeper of promises, it's so hard for me to trust that you're able to get me where you want. I can't see the road and each step feels like balancing over a pit! Help me to see the future, even if I can't see the ground before me. Grant me the ability to feel your guiding presence in my life, and know that wherever I am in my walk of life and faith, you are with me, have always been with me, and always will be with me. In Jesus name. Amen.

Wednesday, February 27^th

Reading: Jeremiah 31:31-34

Reflection: You have failed. No matter who you are or how hard you try, you have failed at something. The kind of shame that you feel because of our failures can be stinging and deep. Maybe you feel you failed another person somehow, or didn't make a goal you set. Maybe your failure was of nerve, or a failure to be vulnerable. Sometimes your failures occur through inaction and sometimes they occur through action, both accidentally and knowingly. How have you failed? How have you not upheld what God asks of you? Here are two truths to meditate on; say these to yourself as many times as necessary: I am loved. I am forgiven.

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: Lord who knows my every failure and secret shame, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I failed you. I'm sorry I couldn't do better. I want to hear your voice and listen, but I'm not capable of living rightly without your help. Help me, forgive me, and please let me feel your love which I so desperately need. In Jesus name I pray. Amen.

Thursday, February 28^th

Reading: Jeremiah 31:31-34

Reflection: The covenant that God made with Abraham was one that was somewhat contingent upon his ability to walk with God. God asked only one thing: spiritual fidelity, and didn't get even that. You, too, are guilty of cheating on God. Even if you're not worshipping Baal, you put yourself and what you want before God, or you put money before God, or work. With what have you been unfaithful to God? God knows, and because God loves you so deeply God made a new covenant, one in which your behavior will flow from the law of God written in your heart. That law is love, a law which is not to convict, but to give mercy. God is teaching you that lesson. How is the lesson of love being written in your heart?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: Dear Lord, thank you for forgiving me and loving me even when I'm unfaithful. Thank you so much for giving me the gift of your son despite my unworthiness and inability to be true to you and only you. I love you, and I want your love to be written in my heart so that every action I take is rooted in love, mercy, and forgiveness. Please transform me so that I can live this way. In Christ's name I pray. Amen.

Friday, March 1^st

Reading: Galatians 3:23-29

Reflection: Paul calls the law the guardian or, in Greek, it roughly means a babysitter. What does it mean that we were once babysat by the law? When you think of your relationship to doing good works, do you do it because that's who you are, or do you do it because you want to be good enough? Can you ever be good enough? Sometimes in our attempts to be good Christians, it's easy to get carried away in the doing and forget the being. Is it hard for you to stop worrying about being good enough? Our identity is rooted not in what we do, but in what God has done for us.

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: Lord of life, thank you for your gift of the law and for your love. Help me to understand that your love for me comes first, and that my living out of the law comes as an outpouring of my love for you. Teach me to trust in your redemptive action rather than putting my faith in my own ability to save myself. Thank you for what you do for me today and every day.

Saturday, March 2^nd

Reading: Galatians 3:23-29

Reflection: Pain, suffering, failure, and fear can rob us of our identity, causing us to forget that we are children of God. Why does that identity matter? If your identity is invested in your own abilities and successes, failure and difficulty can leave you feeling lost. Paul declares that we have a new identity, not one that is as basic as race or even gender, but that our identity is as a people redeemed by the cross of Christ and his resurrection. Children of God are loved and worthy of sacrifice. Children of God are recipients of the promise to draw us to new life. No longer are you adrift or reliant only on your own success, but you are surrounded by a community of faith, and more importantly, you are lifted up as an inheritor of the kingdom of God. Who are you?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: God, remind me who I am to you. Remind me that the sum of my self worth is not made up of my accomplishments or failures, and it's not about where I'm from, who my parents are, who I marry, or how good my children are. Teach me that because of what your son did for me, the only identity I must bear now is this: beloved. In the name of Christ who called me friend. Amen.

Week 1

 Monday, February 18^th

Reading: Genesis 1:26-31


Reflection:
You are a created being, born out of chaos and void and lovingly crafted not only as a human being, but as an individual. Try to comprehend the vastness of the mind which holds every speck of dust and every individual who ever has or ever will live. Contemplate the greatness of God, and your insignificance/significance. You are both a tiny blip in a vast universe, and something that was lovingly crafted like a work of art. Who is God? Who are you? What do you feel in relation to God?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: Lord, help me to understand who you are so that I can better understand who I am to you. Teach me to know you and your ways, and to hear the sound of your voice calling me beloved child. You created all that is with great attention to detail. Give me perspective to understand your plans for me, and to learn to humbly walk beside you. In Jesus' name. Amen.

Tuesday February 19^th

Reading: Genesis 1:26-31

Reflection:

You were created in God's image, and gifted with responsibilities to care for this world and utilize its gifts in order to live and thrive. Think about the birds of the air and their roles—do you suppose they worry about where their next meal will come from, or that they trust that it will come? Do they even reflect on their mortality at all? The life of a bird can be snuffed out in an instant, and yet its life is not without purpose. How much greater, then, is your purpose? How much greater should your trust be?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: God, you created all things with the intention of them growing and thriving to success. Give me faith to know that you are with me, and that you have a purpose for me. Show me that, as one lovingly created, you want me also to thrive and grow. Although sin and human brokenness sometimes get in the way of those good things, help me to feel your hand in my life. In Christ's name. Amen.

Wednesday, February 20^th

Reading: Mark 4:35-41

Reflection:

Have you ever felt like Jesus is asleep, not caring that you are perishing? Does it feel like sometimes unexpected things keep happening and that you will drown if you aren't rescued? Jesus' disciples were afraid for their lives, and Jesus was sleeping. Yet when he woke up, he spoke to them as if they should have known that he was protecting them despite the storm. Can you feel Christ despite the storm raging around you? Have you ever not come through the storm?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: Heavenly Lord, you are never asleep. You are never unaware of the storms in my life, but sometimes it feels that way. Teach me when to ask for help and when to ask for trust. Help me to remember that with you, the story never ends with the storm. In Christ's name. Amen.

Thursday, February 21^st

Reading: Mark 4:35-41

Reflection:

Jesus is God, and as such has power to enact changes we can hardly imagine. He transformed water into wine, and made a feast for thousands out of a lunch for a small boy, and his words even calmed a storm. If Christ can do that, what else do you think he can do? Our minds are small and our imagination weak compared to the things God can accomplish. Even the storm obeys God. What else does God have dominion over?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: My God, you are powerful beyond my wildest imagination. The things you can accomplish are as limitless as the universe. Help me to remember this power in the midst of the storm, knowing that you can and will and do calm all the difficulties in my life. Show me that even when it seems like the storm has victory temporarily, you are ultimately victorious over all sin and death.

Friday, February 22^nd

Reading: Luke 18:35-43

Reflection:

You probably don't have to think very hard to remember a time when you felt abandoned and alone the way this blind man near Jericho felt. He was rejected by his family and friends, because his ailment was considered to be a curse from God in those days. When Jesus went by, his disciples rebuked him but he became more determined. Do you think the man felt absolute certainty that Jesus could heal him? Or do you think perhaps he was desperate enough to try anything? Could it be that Jesus is where we reach not when we are certain in our faith, but when we are desperate?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer:

Lord, you come to me when I am most in need, and when my meager plea for help comes not from faith but from fear. Help me to accept that I am human and my fear is not a lack of faith, but an expression of hope. Remind me that when I am most afraid and desperate are the times when you are filling me with the hope and strength to call out. Please reveal yourself when I cry to you. In Jesus' name. Amen.

Saturday, February 23^rd

Reading: Luke 18:35-43

Reflection:

Jesus meets a blind beggar on the road who asks for restoration—something which we would think would be completely impossible, and yet the beggar was bold enough to ask. What do you not ask for fear of hearing an answer you don't like? What might be given to you if you were bold enough to ask? Maybe our imaginations are too small. We can't limit God's power, but maybe we limit what we think God's power is. What do you think might change if we could imagine a future like the one God has imagined for us?

Take time to reflect, meditate, or pray in silence.

Prayer: God, teach me how to ask bold questions with a scope of imagination far wider than what I have now! Give me eyes to see the way the blind beggar saw hope for a different future. In Jesus' name. Amen.

Lenten devotions - Introduction

This is the online version of the Lenten Devotions I am writing for my church. They are available in the church narthex, but I wanted to make them available for my congregation online as well.

Introduction

Greetings in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ who comforts us in our darkest nights!

A couple months ago I hatched this brilliant idea to write a Lenten devotion, pulling together simple reflections, prayers, and thoughts based on the lectionary texts of the season. This has proved to be a challenge to me, not least of all because of my habit of procrastination, but also because of trying to mash a topic and a bunch of somewhat arbitrary lectionary texts. Not long after Christmas, Pastor Kirk and I sat down to discuss themes for Lent, and determined that a recurring theme for us as a church, community, and nation was fear. We've been dealing with divisiveness in politics, and tragedy in the world, and personal trauma and injury. Fear is all around us. In fact, fear is so pervasive that sometimes it's overwhelming and seems to blot out all sense and reason. It's an infection of the imagination, and one that's exceedingly difficult to overcome. How could I begin to address it?

One of my favorite authors wrote a comment about “breeding dragons in map margins.” The idea is that it's easy, when the road isn't clear and we don't know what's going to happen (like, you know, happens in all of life), for our imagination to get the best of us and start hatching all sorts of evil and danger lurking just out of sight. Human imagination can be a beautiful thing, but also very powerful, and even more powerful when spurred on by the forces of evil. Fear is one such force. The author of 1 John wrote that perfect love casts out fear, but unfortunately the opposite is evident sometimes too. Fear can get in the way of love by driving a wedge of anxiety and distrust between us and our loved ones, and between us and God. Things that separate us from God are essentially the definition of sin. Fear which preserves us can be healthy, but fear which overwhelms and destroys us is nothing but evil.

As I mentioned above, originally, I planned to take the lectionary texts for each week and write a little reflection about them with a prayer, a task which seemed relatively straight forward and simple to execute. But after much prayer and reflection on this matter, I have been led to structure this Lenten devotion around six themes with appropriate verses which I hope will help you to confront whatever anxieties or fears are working on you right now. Lent is all about acknowledging our mortality (and sinfulness) in order to fully embrace our resurrection, which is made possible through Christ. As we journey toward the cross, we remember that perfect love does indeed cast out fear, and that perfect love is embodied in our savior Jesus, who died a prisoner's death to set us free from the powers of sin and death, and all the terrors held therein. I hope that, even if you are not a particularly anxious person, you might find reassurance and strength in the reflections, meditations, and readings provided in this study. It is in the presence of God that fear seems to shrink away and lose its power. Christ has dominion over all things, and victory over all that binds us.

Here is a brief instruction for the intended use of this study. For each week, I am providing three readings. This is because often we do a study and forget about what we read or thought about by the next day. My goal is that, in revisiting each text with different exercises and prayers, you might find new insights or may be able to give yourself license to listen and discern as the Spirit works, knowing you will have another opportunity to really think about the text the next day if you choose. I also encourage you to read these texts out loud. Scripture was originally passed as an oral tradition, and I believe that reading scripture is an act of prayer in which we open ourselves to the movement of the Holy Spirit, the very same Spirit which moved through the authors of the Bible to give us the words we now study. If you can, find a time to be alone, or if you prefer, read these texts with your spouse, partner, or children, taking turns with verses or reading them to one another twice. On the other hand, I also acknowledge that everybody communes with God in different ways, so to quote a song I like “however you call, don't forget to call.” Do what feels natural and know that God is working! You can always find me if you have any questions about the study itself or want to talk about anything you've been working with as you move through it. Let us journey together toward the cross.

In peace,

Intern Gwen

Sermon on Luke 9:28-43

--> Tell me if this is something you've said before: “I don't know why you won't just listen to me! It's like my mouth is moving and no sound is coming out!” You snap your fingers or stomp your feet, but no matter what you do, it seems like the message is getting lost. Maybe this is a conversation you have had with your spouse, or children. One of the most important parts of any relationship is feeling like you're being heard, but in actuality, just being heard is not usually enough. What we want is a response. If you say “Listen to me, clean up your room!” you're not saying you want your kid to listen to you nodding and then do nothing, right? You're saying “Clean up your room!” You expect a response! We've seen throughout the entire book of Luke this message, which started with an announcement from the angels and continued in Jesus' baptism, and here again at the transfiguration you have been given a message. But the message is more than just words—it's a call to action, and one directed at you and me.

So here's how this story unfolds. One day after Jesus has started his ministry, he and three disciples decide to go up a mountain to pray. Peter, John, and James follow him up and sit with Jesus while he has some personal time with God. While he's praying, Jesus' face and clothes suddenly transform to dazzling white. Just as suddenly, Moses and Elijah appear and talk to Jesus about what Jesus was “about to accomplish in Jerusalem.” Imagine being a disciple and watching this transformation and miraculous conversation with two dead men! They finish their discussion and are about to go down the mountain. Stunned by what he's seen, and also very sleepy, Peter makes a little suggestion. He says, “Hey, let me make three little dwellings for you and your company!” This sounds like a pretty good idea, right? It's something polite to do for visitors. And Jesus doesn't even dignify this suggestion with a response. Awkward.

In fact, after Peter's odd comment, something even stranger happens: a dark cloud rolls in and a voice like thunder declares: “This is my Son—listen to him!” and once the cloud departs, Elijah and Moses are gone. This whole text seems to be pointing to who Jesus is and what he's supposed to do as “the Chosen” or Messiah. Jesus' transformed appearance is kind of like a flashing, neon sign saying 'this guy is special!' And then we have Moses and Elijah, who brought the law and called Israel to return to God's way. It seems pretty clear that Jesus is important, the next guy in this succession, and more than that, the author of Luke wants you to know just exactly who he is: the Son of God. Clearly the disciples understood that. Peter, about 10 verses before, confesses that Jesus is the Messiah. He recognizes that he's not out of place shooting the breeze with Moses and Elijah. So why does Jesus ignore him? Why does God's voice call out that Jesus is the Messiah and that Peter should listen. Hasn't he been listening?

He's missing something, but what? The word Peter uses here for a dwelling would almost surely be recognized by the Jewish audience as relating to a particular Jewish festival, the festival of booths or tabernacles, which were temporary structures like the ones that the Israelites lived in while they wandered in the wildnerness. The point of this celebration is to serve as a remembrance of the time they spent wandering in the desert, as well as a celebration of the harvest and God's provision in bringing them out. This festival was a fun, and lively event that took place after Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, and the most solemn of all Jewish holidays. Peter's suggestion to build a dwelling, then, is more than just a polite offer to house strangers, but something which reaches back in historical memory to celebration. The problem is, the work isn't done yet. In fact, Jesus is barely getting started.

Have you ever been to Christian summer camp, youth gathering, a WELCA gathering, or mission trip? My brother went to Mexico when he was in high school, and had an awesome trip. He spent a week building houses for poor people, and climbing mountains, and praying and singing together with his friends. It was really hard for him to come back after that experience, because he had kind of literally been at the top of a mountain, feeling God's presence and feeling pumped up and excited for Christianity. He was determined to do devotions every day and do prayer group and youth group, and... well, how long do you think that lasted? How long does it ever last after those experiences? A few days or weeks, maybe, but then we realize that we're not on the mountain anymore, and Christianity isn't quite as interesting when you're not saving lives or building houses or having revival style worship with your peers. You settle in and wait for the next mountain top experience, but in the meantime, what do you do?

Peter suggested building booths; staying up on the mountain because Jesus was God, and should have been in the company of such great men like Moses and Elijah. Moses, who brought the law, Elijah, who called the people to turn back to God, and Jesus, the next great voice, leader, and ruler of the people. Peter wanted mountain top Jesus. And sometimes that's the Jesus we want too. We want the Jesus who is God, who is king, who is seated on a throne and ruling us. But the reality is that, yes, God has declared Jesus the chosen, but he also said listen to him. Don't just physically perceive Jesus. Don't just acknowledge that Jesus is speaking by nodding your head. Like asking your kid to clean up his room, Jesus is telling you through his identity who you are, and what you are called to do. And what you are called to do is listen to the sound of Jesus' feet and follow. And Jesus always goes down the mountain.

Jesus goes down the mountain to the boy who has a demon, and he casts out the demon and heals the boy. Jesus goes down the mountain and sends his apostles out in mission to the world. Jesus goes down the mountain and teaches with parables and talks to Martha and Mary. Jesus goes down the mountain to heal the cripled, the blind, to be with the beggar, the tax collector, the prostitute, and to raise the dead. Are you getting what I'm saying here? Jesus goes down the mountain. Listen to him! And not just with your ears.

Next week we will gather to receive the sign of ashes on our foreheads. We'll come together and be told that we are dust, that we are mortal, and sinful, and in great, great need of help. Next week we will begin our journey to the cross with Christ, as he comes down the mountain and travels toward Jerusalem. And that's exactly where you should want him to be. Because you're not up on the mountain. Most of the time, you're not on top of the world. You're not overwhelmed by your vast resources and constantly happy home life and lack of concern about health or school or whatever. We know that family members get sick, and jobs are lost, and economies change, and our lives aren't lived on mountain tops. Our lives are lived in the valley, where we're scared; where sometimes we're so weighed down with loneliness that it's hard to move forward. We're in the valleys of sin and pain and struggle and bad marriages and divorced parents and bad grades and broken friendships. We live in the valley, and that's exactly where we need Jesus to come.

Salvation doesn't come when you're on the mountain, does it? Because that's not where you need it, that's not where we live most of the time. Salvation comes at the foot of the cross. It comes where Christ laid down his life in a very dark and scary moment, because without Christ's willingness to be in the valleys of life and death, there would be no mountain tops. There would be no resurrection.

Listen to him. Listen to him, and respond to him by being willing to go into the valleys, and living in all the messy, difficult, ugly crap of life, with your own mess, with your neighbor's mess, and with a stranger's mess. Because Jesus is in the mess, and is calling you to the mess to show love and care and healing and comfort to the world. Jesus may have met Elijah on the mountain, but he meets you in the mess. This is the Son of God. Listen to him.

In the name of Christ Jesus our Lord, who cleans up our messes and walks with us through dark valleys, amen.

Why I intend to raise my (hypothetical) children with God

A friend of mine sent me a message linking me to an article which had troubled her. It was written by an atheist mom who decided to raise her children without religion and her reasons. My friend didn't quite know how to verbalize why the article rubbed her so wrong, but she knew she disagreed because her faith had been so central to her upbringing and life thus far. After reading the article, I could tell immediately what the problem was: the author's understanding of God and Christianity is not my understanding, and therefore her reasons failed to resonate. I want to preface this rebuttal by saying that I have no problem with anybody raising their kids with any beliefs that they see fit. But I also feel the need to articulate why many people choose to raise their children in their faith tradition that addresses the issues that the author raised.

Introduction: I'm a pastor in training, so obviously faith is and has been hugely important in my life. My fiance's faith journey has been different than mine, but we both essentially feel that God is central to our lives, and will be central to the life of any potential children. Some people might say that raising your children with religion is indoctrination, or that at the very least, as the author of the original article asserts, it's encouraging children to have fantastical thinking about some divine being in the sky, much like teaching kids about Santa (which is something that has issues all its own, in my opinion). However, it's my view that there's a big difference between teaching a child to know God, who I experience daily, and indoctrinating them. My beliefs may seem fantastical, or even ridiculous (the Bible even calls them foolishness), but knowing how my struggles with God and faith and growth have shaped me into the person I am today, I couldn't possibly deprive my children of such wholeness. These are a few reasons why:

1.) God is a parent and role model.

God understands the human heart better than any parent, and understands that you can't always guide and shape your children the way that you want to. Although some children may be easy to raise, others aren't. The Israelites, and all of us by extension, are the perfect example of rebellious children who refuse to listen. We've been doing it from the beginning, and we'll keep doing it until the end. But unlike a human parent, who may give up on their child who again and again refuses to listen (and God doesn't force us any more than we can force our kids), God never gives up. God loves us so unconditionally, that even the most horrible things we do to ourselves and each other are not an excuse to let go. God loves us in a way that we as parents can only hope to love our children.

2.) God's logic is different from ours.

The author's problem is less with God's logic and more with the logic of people and their responses to tragedy. She is troubled by pat answers to tough questions like "Why did God allow Newtown to happen?" Well, I'm troubled by pat answers to these questions too, because there is no easy answer. The answer that some people give, that it's not for us to know, is one way to resolve trying to understand something terrible. This is where the author and I agree: I also think we are asking the wrong questions. We shouldn't be asking why God allowed such things to happen, but if we believe that God allowed it to happen. It raises uncomfortable questions for people of faith, so we sometimes don't want to think of it. IS God omnipotent? Does God really control everything? Is there a plan to such things, or is evil a power which can truly contend with God on some level? Our questions are based on assumptions that may or may not be true, and on our human perspective. To us, Newtown looks like either a cruel allowance or like it demonstrates the powerlessness of God. Or perhaps it reveals something about what God is doing and will be doing in a future that we can't even imagine. I want to teach my children to think bigger than what they see, and try to imagine even in their limited capacity, the kind of mind that might be capable of holding everything that ever existed lovingly inside. I want to teach my children that there are no easy answers to questions, and that sometimes you have to let your assumptions be destroyed before you can come to understanding.

3.) Fairness is not the same as justice.

I had a teacher in high school who told me that God was not fair, but God was just. I take this a step further and want to say that God's justice is different than ours. To us, justice is equality; it's everybody getting the same treatment. Under that definition, life is definitely not fair. People do die too young. Good people get cancer and bad people live into old age. Children are abused, people are victimized, et cetera, et cetera... You know how not fair life can be sometimes. But to God, justice is isn't measured in equal beginnings or equal outcomes--it's measured in how much mercy we give and receive. It's clear in the gospels that God has a heart for the poor, the oppressed, the sick, outcast, and hurting. We are told that those who mourn will be comforted, those hunger will be filled, and those who are poor in spirit will receive the kingdom of God. (Matthew 5) In God's justice, those who suffer most receive most, because they most fully experience God. That doesn't always look like the justice we want or expect. It's an alchemy in which our suffering is transmuted proportionally into comfort, joy, and help. Unfortunately, because of the scope of our lives, we don't always have the opportunity to see that worked out for us, and it doesn't stop the bad stuff from sucking and feeling unfair, but we have what we theology nerds call "eschatalogical hope"--we have hope that even if it's not right now, it will be made right. We will have justice, and we will have a far better justice than tit for tat fairness.

4.) God's heart is for the vulnerable

God unquestionably cares for the weak. I think the gospel lesson for this week speaks directly to this. In Luke 4:18-19, Jesus quotes scripture saying: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." And then he goes on to say that he is the one who will fulfill that message. There's a long, theological answer to the accusation that has to do with lots of assumptions about how God works in the world, but the short answer is that part of Christ's work as the Messiah is the transformation of hearts, and through Christ we, too, are given hearts for the vulnerable. God does protect the vulnerable by calling us, so in teaching our children about a loving God who cares for the poor, we instill in them those values and thus work toward building a future in which all the vulnerable are protected.

5.) God is here

Billions of people across the world worship God or deities of some kind and profess an experience of the divine in their lives. Perhaps billions of us are delusional, or maybe the perception is in to what we attribute a sense of peace, stillness, awe, and love. I may not be able to wrap my arms around God, or bury my head in his/her bosom, but I have experienced a sense of peace or stillness in the midst of terror. I have experienced love while feeling completely unlovable. I have experienced guidance while lost. I can't explain it or entirely verbalize it, but I believe that God IS here. I believe that God is undeniably entwined in the human experience because God loves us and came to be with us in the form of Jesus. I can't touch, smell, or hear my partner's love for me, but I experience it, and I want my children to experience God's love in that way too.

6.) God teaches us how to behave by teaching us who we are

It's true that, taught a certain way, religion can prime children to have an external locus of control. That is, they behave because they fear consequences from outside. Some may teach their children this way, and the author recognizes that this is not a very sophisticated approach. God does set up rules and boundaries for humans, but it's only in the most elementary understanding of Christian theology that the enforcement for such rules relies on hell or punishment. In my view, how we behave stems from who we are. If we consider ourselves to be people who are valued, loved, and wanted, our behavior will then stem not from an aversion to punishment, but from an effort to demonstrate our deeply held identity. God enables us to do this by naming us as beloved children. When you teach your child that he or she is beloved, you teach him or her that who they are is a person whose life is built on love, and therefore we can teach our children how to behave as a person of love rather than a person in fear of punishment.

7.) God teaches selflessness

"My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command.  I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. This is my command: Love each other." -John 15:12-17

God has a plan for you, and that plan involves laying down your life. That plan involves dying to your old self, your old desires, your selfishness, your anger, and hate, and rising for the sake of others as Christ did. We are a small part of God's plan, but we are an important part. In some ways, the ushering in of God's kingdom depends on us. When I teach my (potential) children who God is, I will teach them who they are, and that their identity is deeply rooted in servanthood. The message is that they are special, but that message is inclusive and is intended not to foster narcissism but a sense of worth, particularly for people who sometimes question their worth. When we teach our children about God, we teach them that despite their failures and mistakes, despite their insecurity or the horrible things that the media, cruel peers, or even abusive relatives tell them, that they innately have worth. That they are wanted. That they are loved. And that because of that, we are all part of a huge mission to share that belonging with everybody we meet. So yes, we do teach our children that God thinks they're special. And because of that, we are also teaching them that they have a calling to love and serve like the one who named them special.

Conclusion

I understand why people don't want to raise their children with God, and that is absolutely their prerogative. I understand why somebody would not want to conceive of a punitive, omnipotent God who peers over our shoulder expecting us to do good things in the face of tragedy, evil, and unfairness. I don't want to conceive of that God either. The God that's represented in my tradition, the God that I have a relationship with, who walks with me, comforts me, and brings me hope is a God whose relationship to me helps me live. Teaching my children about God isn't about heaven or hell. It isn't about trying to explain randomness or avoid the fear of death. I will teach my children because I want them to spit at death by living in love. I want them to know God who knows them, who has named them as beloved, and who has a plan for them--and all of us. I want my children to have hope that things can change, and to desire to be a part of that change in the world as a part of that mission of love and reconciliation.

Trek, time, and theology.

I watched Star Trek: Generations the other day. The movie hinges on differing perspectives on time. The movie starts out with the death of Picard's brother and nephew, a stark reminder to childless Picard that his choices have been made and time has already engaged in its pursuit of his life and potential. It's described by the antagonist as a devourer which dogs every step. The crew of the Enterprise ends up discovering a scheme by a desperate/insane man who plans to destroy a star system's sun in order to change the course of a galactic phenomenon known as the nexus. Inside the nexus is pure joy. Whatever you want is yours to have, and time means nothing. The devourer has no teeth. But ultimately, Picard (and later Captain Kirk) discover that although they have everything they want, there is something about it which makes it meaningless because time is meaningless. There is no looking forward, because you can just go forward. There is no cherishing moments wistfully because you can go and live them again. Paradise, but without purpose.

I'm of two minds about time. On one hand, I don't think that time has a whole lot of meaning in the spiritual realm. Christ is described by John as the logos or word of God which was present from the beginning. Jesus was there when the first words of creation were spoken, and at the giving of the law, and on the cross, and the resurrection and at the last day. In fact, time can't have power over God or possibly even exist for God in the way it does for us because that would be a constraint which would negate what Christians hold as central to their doctrine--that restoration can and does occur. To quote my mom: "Time only exists so that physics works." We need time because we're not infinite beings. It makes me wonder if time existed for humans at all before the fall, or if maybe we weren't aware of the passing of time. After all, if there is no decay, decline, or death, there can't be time.

On the other hand, as Picard and Kirk came to understand, time does give us meaning in a sense. Time is what gives us a sense of perspective and location. Who am I now except for who I was before plus all the experiences that happened in between? Who will I be except for whatever happens in the time between now and then? Why am I here if not to work out some purpose, which, if time has no meaning, can't be of that much importance (how can a task be completed if there is nothing to define completion)? Picard describes to Riker that time is a friend that walks with us and reminds us to cherish each moment. That's a romantic description, I think. I'm not sure if I would agree with it, but at the same time, I have a hard time finding meaning in an existence in which there is no time, no change, no growth. But maybe that's because I'm broken.

Or should I say fallen? I think maybe part of the curse of the fall can be understood in terms of the effects of time on us. Instead of time being something which simply helps us gain perspective and understanding, it's something that also robs us. Eventually, time does take things away; health, vitality, and life in the end. Time and death may be two sides to the same coin. But think of time from God's perspective, where time exists in order to make physics work; in order to make gravity work, and forces and change and growth. Instead of decay, the change that occurs is always a new evolution, something exciting and beautiful which infinitely adds to us and yet takes nothing. Time would be the aid in a process of getting to know one another more deeply--to know God more deeply, and yet in that knowledge would be no pain or sorrow or loss. It would be a place where time has no meaning, and yet time means everything because there's purpose without degradation.

This idea is kind of hard to hold in my very small human mind, but it's one of those tensions that I think we have to live with. Time is both. It's a beast, because of how it acts on us broken people. But it's also a friend, because we can gain. And maybe part of the miracle of the resurrection is that breaking of the powers of decay. Because time did turn back, because Christ did rise from the grave, God defeated, and is currently defeating the parts that wither us. And that even makes it possible to wrap our minds a little bit around the idea of the now and not yet paradox. It did happen already, and it's happening right now, and it will happen in the future. It can be this way because even though God is deeply entrenched in our lives and suffering through Christ, ultimately God exists in all time, and our reality isn't the same as God's reality. So even though we may be living in the defeat of death right now, to God we're already living in life. It's just a matter of, heh, time before we catch up to the eschaton--to the future--that God is already present in.