Noli Me Tangere

05.15.04

Before Adam can marry Ellen, he must first withstand a vicious beating at the hands of her brothers. Adam was so bloodied that the sky began to appear pink.

The groomsmen dangle Ellen above the tarpit until she promises to keep in touch with each of them.

Ellen performs emergency surgery on Abe's boutonniere while another groomsman, for reasons unknown, hits him on the back.

Mom

Much is said on this day about the supreme sacrifice that a mother makes to raise her children. But it is a point that, when considered by a self-oriented single twenty-something, is really quite remarkable. My mother has had children in her house demanding her attention and care for 28 years. That's a long time to have one job.

But I look at my siblings, and see that she did a bang-up job. She probably had no idea I would be such a jerk, or that Tom would be an exhibitionist, or that Ellen would break that antique chair, or that Charlotte would pick fights on the soccer field. But it didn't matter; she was going to raise us up right, in spite of our deviant tendencies.

And on this day, I remember this and am glad. Happy mother's day, mom.

Ruminations on Worship, vol. 1

One of the things I find myself thinking about a lot is the essence of worship. Because of the nature my job I end up asking myself, almost weekly, "wait, why are we doing this again?" There are so many stale expressions of Christian worship in the western world (and in our immediate view) that it can be the norm to find oneself far removed from the very lifeblood of worship itself, and instead trudging listlessly through the forms to which we have become most accustomed. I am sort of forced to combat this all the time.

So since I find my mind re-visiting this topic so often and searching for some conclusions so I can function normally on Sunday morning, I’m going to attempt to record some of these thoughts here in this blog. If you don’t like this idea, and would rather be mindlessly entertained, then I would direct you to Northpoint Community Church.

That's a joke. Today I was working on a Call To Worship for tomorrow’s service. This is the ‘intro’ and usually consists of a scripture exhortation and some comment by me. This is by far the hardest part of my job: to come up with some pithy, profound words for the opening of the service. Not only am I spiritually unqualified for this most of the time, but I also am not a gifted (read: entertaining) public speaker. The goals, broadly speaking, are to a) get their attention and b) point them in the direction of the service. It’s almost like I (try to) grab their shoulders, shake them, point them towards God, and then push them off.

The Bible is full of dualities. Grace/Works. Predestination/Free Will. Justice/Mercy. Last week we heard a powerful quote from Martin Luther: “Justice and Mercy kiss at the Cross.” And it’s true that these two ideas sort of sum up everything we want in our lives. They are two sides of the same coin.

So it occurred to me that we worship for a couple different reasons that correlate to this duality. We most often think of worship as a voluntary action that springs from joy or thanksgiving or wonder in our hearts. God has been good to us, so let’s sing a happy song. God helped me pay rent, so thank him. God has removed my shame, so praise him. These are responses to God’s mercy. Any believer has examples of blessings unexpected, even unsolicited, that they attribute to God’s merciful return. This worship is something we want to do.

The other trigger for worship, which is more abstract and maybe harder to effect, is God’s justice. This worship expression isn’t so much a voluntary movement as it is an involuntary reflex triggered by a glimpse of Who God is. This worship is not a result of thinking, “You know, I think I feel like singing now.” It’s like the expletive that flies off your tongue in that split second when you are sure you are going to hit the car in front of you. Like Moses and Isaiah, it’s posture of utter submission and fear that results from a real encounter with the Almighty. This worship is something like the respect we pay a cop. We don’t obey them out of gratitude for their ‘protection and service’. We obey mostly out of fear and respect. This worship is not what we want to do, it's what we must do.

I would venture to say more of us have had an ‘experience’ with the merciful God than the God of justice. I don’t know why this is. But it seems if God is both merciful and just, we should see both at some time or another. Frankly, as I prepare a service that sets up a sermon about God's justice and judgment, I have no idea how I can create this for people. Even if I list some biblical descriptors for God, it doesn't really hit home for people because it doesn't affect their lives. But I've decided to go with some passages from Job 34 because they are so powerfully written, and do such a good job of capturing God's authority.

earth, save me from your followers

I'm actually pretty green guy, in that I like nature and wish there were more of it (outside my house). I also wear birkenstocks and eat granola on a semi-regular basis.

Now that we've established my supreme eco-friendliness, I'll get to the real point of today's post: to make fun of a bumper sticker that read, and I quote:

"THE EARTH DOES NOT BELONG TO US. WE BELONG TO THE EARTH."

There are a number of ways to take this, and all strike me as pretty foolish. In what sense is this true? Strictly speaking, this implies that the earth is an animate being, to whom a moral sense of ownership could be ascribed. One is free to believe anything, including that a space rock is a living deity. I could say the same thing about my navel lint. "Don't throw that away. You belong to that lint."

But is this true? Is the earth some sort of being that we serve? I'd have to say no. It's a rock in space and so therefore doesn't own anything, nor is it 'sad' about pollution, nor does it feel 'neglected' by us.

And if the earth is a being, and we are fleas on her back, are we really responsible for her well-being? (As I write this, a backhoe is digging out massive chunks of her flesh in my front yard.) It seems that either the earth could be a victim OR a deity. But a victimized deity makes no sense.

My point is that there are plenty of good arguments for conserving, preserving and observing the natural world, and this is not one of them.

There is a much stronger statement to be made when this is cast as an issue of stewardship: how well do we manage what we've been given? Waste, whether of time, money, or swaths of rainforest, is not only harmful but it also betrays our innate selfishness. It becomes a personal responsibility to care for a shared space. When my lifestyle impinges on another, I begin to wrong them. But this is not because I have an obligation to the earth, it's because I have an obligation of love to God and to my fellow man.