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Random Thoughts for the Weekend

matt b redmondLeave a comment

fears

1. The world markets fear. It trades in anxiety. The world wants you to worry. But the King says, “Don’t be afraid.” Furnish the home of your mind and heart with passages that remind you to not be afraid. Arrange the rooms of your soul with passages and stories of God’s provision and protection. Fill your life with reminders that the unseen realities are the highest realities so that you will be content and have confidence in your King.

2. I used to not understand David in the Psalms when he would talk about how much he loved the law. Made no sense to me. I did not love the law like he did. But Willard helped me see something I had not been able to see – the law is the path toward the best life possible. Obeying the commandments of our God requires faith that he knows what he is talking about. I had no problem with placing my confidence in him for the afterlife. But I did not have much confidence in him for this life.

3.  If grace is not the modus operandi, it’s not a ministry, it’s a business and grace is just marketing.

4.  I love being isolated with my family.

5. The only political perspective that is helpful and needed during this global event is that we have a King and a kingdom. This is also true during the normal times.

6. In the midst of a harder situation for believers, Peter says, “Fear God. Honor the Emperor.”

7.  (Laying out in the yard listening to Bob Dylan with my son, Dylan)

Dylan (11): Do you like this Bob Dylan song more than “Where I Belong?”

Me: Nothing is better than “Where I Belong” buddy.

8. Sometimes confidence in God will look like to others you are not taking a situation seriously.

9. Blaise Pascal said, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

Lean into that.

10. Everyday Poem #16, “While Everyone Else Was At Work”

While everyone else was at work
I reclined in a hammock
under the towering oak
that stands
like God in full glory and majesty
and which we know
could fall on us at any moment.

But I drank red wine
from a mason jar and
read Donald Hall poems, as birds
sang or talked, I couldn’t tell.

In early April you can smell
the privet and cut grass
(and red wine too)
if everyone else is as work.

 

Random Thoughts for the Weekend

matt b redmond3 Comments

wendall-berry

1. Chaos is not real. It is a perspective skewed by ignoring the highest reality of God and his love. Chaos is looking through the glasses of those who trust only their own perspective. If the light within by which we see is darkness, then how deep is that darkness.

2. Let Spring be wisdom. Or maybe even sermon. A letter would do.

3. We have a chance to “educate” our children during this time. We have a chance to teach them our first world problems are a vapor. Our plans are often born of arrogance. Our perspective is often dictated by the fleeting whims of pop culture. That we have a King and a kingdom. Within that kingdom we are perfectly safe. We know…know that all things are working out for good – the good of those who follow the crucified King. That we carry a cross because we have already died and our lives are hid with Christ. And when he appears we also will appear with him in glory. We can tell them these things, sure. But only if we proceed with kindness and joy will they learn it.

4. The Avett Brothers sold Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise to be used in a financial planning commercial.

5. Willard said we should ruthlessly eliminate hurry from our lives. I think this has now been done for us.

6. I hate living in a world where COVID – 19 is a marketing opportunity for businesses and churches, of which it is often hard to tell the difference these days.

7. Wendell Berry is far easier to hear during this time. His poems are like prophecy – not so much foretelling as much as forth-telling. He sees more than we do. And in a way they remind me of Dylan’s songs. There is something else out there we are not seeing. Indeed, we don’t even know how to see them. If only because they do not seem beholden to them times, they are worth our time. I have found more than a little comfort in both.

8. One of the things I was teaching my 7th grade OT students was how to approach the Scriptures. I used five lenses. One of those lenses was “Sin is our biggest problem.” This was just another way to say, “Our circumstances are not our biggest problem.” The goal was joy. Each and every circumstance is to be colored with the knowledge that our biggest problem has been defeated. It was true in the stories of the Bible. And it’s true when you find yourself in the middle of a story that includes a pandemic.

9. Are you alive in a world dying to binge-watch?

10. Everyday Poem #11, “Doing Nothing”

I am pretty sure I was in Mrs. Grissett’s room at W.J. Christian Elementary when I learned about the Haiku. I could be wrong about that but I have very fond memories of learning poems and writing metaphors and similes and enjoying the difference in that room. There was never a day I could say I enjoyed school but I do remember enjoying learning those things. There seemed to be a power in that knowledge.

I only remember learning the 5–7–5 line scheme but it is possible we were told more was required. Matsuo Basho, the great writer of Haiku, said that words pointing to the seasons and nature were required also.

“How I long to see
among dawn flowers,
the face of God.”
– Basho

I forget this often and transgress. But I love Haiku. And when I sit and read some Basho, I feel like I have often taken in more volume than those three lines. A good Haiku says more than those seventeen syllables. There is compact power.  Because there are so few words each word can be mined and then held up to the light and seen for what it is and what it can be.

 

The Sabbath shows us
doing nothing is sometimes
better than something.

In Lieu of Excitement About Church

matt b redmond3 Comments

I know there’s someone out there feeling just how I feel
I know they’re waiting up, I know they’re waiting to heal
And I’ve been holding my breath,
Are you holding your breath, for too many years to count?

Every now and then I’ll run into a piece of writing – a book or blog post, an article – that I feel I could have written if I’d had the words at hand. You know what I mean, everything else blurs for a moment and you breathe deep, “I am not alone.”

All these thoughts and hurts and fears and cares and joys and feelings causing our chest to heave in the quiet moments are not our’s alone. There is at least one other person who sees and feels these things. God has made another, not only in his image but in whom we can see even a shadow of a reflection of our own soul.

Last monday I heard this over and over.

“There are others who are not always excited about church. I am not alone in a faithfulness to God – a real faithfulness – that could not be called one of excitement. It feels more like the comfort and hope of treatment than the announcement of healing.”

I heard from some who had been hurt by the church…or more specifically a particular church. I heard from some who were just going through difficult circumtances and could not find the energy to be excited about much of anything. Belief was still present and alive but all it’s strength was being spent in just hanging on.

And I heard from those exhausted by the roller-coaster rides. Their stomachs churned one too many times because of the highs and lows of a Christian experience replete with emotion and lacking in sobriety. The twists and turns and changing tracks were just too much.

Hopefully the lack once despised is now not missed. After all, we have not been called to excitement about church but to love Him, the Head of the Church and his people. All else may just be filigree, luxuries some of us cannot emotionally afford right now.

What now, though? How do we move on?

As I talked with people about this and looked back over my own life over the past couple of years, the corporate worship was a focal point. Makes sense. This is where the excitement is expected and is expected to be worked out in public. I’ve felt the pressure to be moved emotionally and even dispostionally in corporate worship that caused me to struggle to want to be there.

I don’t think anyone has ever meant ill in these situations, it’s just part of the new celebratory mindset with Coldplay worship. So a good place to start for me was to ask…

“How do I approach the corporate worship I have not really looked forward with any kind of excitement but recognize I need?”

I’ve had two conversations with people who I know well, both are decidedly not excited about church, particularly the worship service. One is struggling with just keeping their children still so they can glean something from the sermon. Another is frustrated with the sermons, period. Neither seems to be getting much. They want to receive a word of encouragement, something to move them along in this life under grace. But it ain’t happening.

I told them both the same thing. I didn’t have advice. So I unfolded to them where I am and have been for almost a year.

My own struggle started more than a year ago. I’d never struggled like this before. I didn’t understand it at all. I wasn’t depressed. I wasn’t losing my faith. But that excitement and enthusiasm for church was waning continuously. Even as we moved from the church where I served, to sitting in the “pew” of the church where my wife and I met and grew so much years ago, I found it hard to emotionally be glad I was there. I wanted to be in church on one level. I knew it was needed. But man, it was painful.

However, there was one thing that kept me going and keeps me going still. It keeps me moving forward even when my faith is not an excited one.

I sought just one thing. I went each time asking God to give me just one thing only. Whether it was a line in a song, a verse or even a word in a verse, or communion itself, I was after just one thing. Even if everything else fell flat, even if the sermon was off, the music offended, or something ridiculous was said, that one thing was enough.

This was a struggle with myself, I knew full well. So instead of looking for something dramatic, I hunted between all the parts for just a nugget of help.

Communion always guaranteed this. Each time I tasted the elements, my whole self engaged with my need, his provision. Those few minutes seemed to reach back over time and extend into the coming week. Often, I would only be encouraged by the  knowledge that I am communing with all the Saints in the room and who have tasted this meal since it was given to us. And sometimes it was a little more mysterious and I would’t be able to explain it other than to say, Jesus knew what he was doing in giving us this gift.

Just sitting in a pew is hard when you’ve been to Seminary. Criticism is second nature. The difficulty is being critical about, well, pretty much everything. So now I fight to not really care like I did. I just need something. I used to want a service that would catapult me into the week with wild-eyed abandon for God and his glory. Now I look for a phrase giving me the will to take just another cautious step, maybe two.

Now I feast on details. Small parts. I don’t expect to walk away “wowed” by a worship experience. And God is gracious. In between the crevices of all the building blocks of a worship service are notes and words and moments of silence (even moments of laughter) quietly calling me to trust him. To trust him when every fiber of my being is stretched out into the great unknowns of life is the goal now anyway.

So I told them I was just looking for one thing to help me every time I was in corporate worship.

Of course, this assumes that even in the worst of churches, there is something to be had of God and his goodness to sinners. This is no call to stay in bad churches. This is no call to leave them. I’m only saying – for those who are struggling in corporate worship, there is probably one nugget of grace like gold you can hoard. You may even be able to mine that one nugget and come across the mother-lode of all finds – a truth you would never have found otherwise. And then not trade for all the excitement you once had.

I Am Not Excited About Church, But…

matt b redmond14 Comments

Where’d you get them scars?                                                                                   How blue is your heart?                                                                                                Is it sad enough to break?                                                                                        She said, “It’s sad enough to break.”                                                                                                                  – Brian Fallon

The two pastors of the church we have been attending, took me to lunch this past week. We talked about a lot of things – fantasy baseball, Presbytery meetings gone awry, bacon, and what was I thinking about the church.

I’ve known one of these pastors for 16 years. This was not an awkward conversation. I felt like I could be gut level with both of them. So, I told them what I was thinking.

We’ve been visiting since the beginning of summer. And to be honest, we’ve missed almost as many Sundays as we’ve made. It’s our first summer since Seminary where we have not “had” to be there. So, if someone in our family was feeling poorly or the Zoo beckoned, we might have skipped. And we went on vacation once.

Summer is also a time when other church members are not around and guest preachers show up. So I told them we were going to stay in visiting mode for a couple more months before pulling the trigger on anything like membership.

And then I told those two pastors some more.

On the way back from the beach a couple of weeks back, Bethany and I reckoned we had three choices in regards to church. We could stay where we are and join the church we have been visiting. We could go back to the church where we thought we would be forever and ever, amen. Or we could start visiting elsewhere.

We were not excited about any of those choices. And I told them this. Yes, those two pastors. Don’t worry, I explained. And they were nothing but understanding and gracious, modeling what they preach.

I cannot think of any scenario in which we would be excited about a church. This is no slight to any ecclesiastical body and I guess a shot across the bow of them all.

After all we’ve been through in the past few years of ministry, being excited about church is impossible. It’s not even on our radar. “Excitement” about joining, getting involved in a small group, giving money, and being expected to serve others in the context of a church might as well be a lottery for which we refuse to even buy a ticket.

And we are OK with that.

Even if we were not, we would not be able to muster the wherewithal to correct the course we are on.

I find myself not only weary but weary of the excitement people have for church. Or their church. Or THE church. (For the record, there are no advertisements for churches with congregants weeping, they all look excited. And pretty.)

So much of that excitement has the feel of those parents who project the image of a perfect family onto everyone else’s facebook page. I’m real glad your 4 year old just found out he is an Eagle Scout while y’all are on your way to your daughter’s Cheerleading (“She made head cheerleader!”) practice, after which you will take a family stroll along a bubbling brook. Our kids are fighting like drunken Nazis and we have homework up to the eaves that neither my wife or I know how to do while the kiddos watch Phineus and Ferb, OK?

That’s probably not fair. You may have very good reasons for being excited about your church. Thought I cannot imagine any longer what they could be.

But I find myself among those who are not excited about church. Number me among those. Number me among those who go because we are hoping for a just a crumb from the table. Number me among those who would feel all that they need from God and his people would be cheapened if we worked up excitement over it.

We know we need it. On another level we want church. But excitement escapes us totally. Everybody wants to sing Chris Tomlin. I just wanna sing the Blues.

I assume we are not alone. I can only assume there are many out there who have not felt anything like excitement for weeks. Or years. You keep going. You keep at it. You taste the bread, the wine, and hope against all hope it will wash away the dregs swimming around in the bottom of your soul.

The problem is excitement is now the gold standard of authentic faith. For all our generation’s longing for authenticity, we have missed like lightning in the night, our obvious neglect of the real thing. Sunday mornings and retreats and camps are now fraught with designs upon our hearts to work up excitement. It’s not real. It disappears quicker than the toys my kids cry for at the dollar store.

There is good news for all of us, though. For all the calls in the New Testament to praise God and worship him, there are no calls for excitement.

Pastors and the other excited people are always saying they are excited about what God is going to do among their people. Well, what if he pulls an Ananias and Saphira on your congregation? Would you be excited if he made your congregation like the one in Corinth? Heck, would you be “excited” if he started taking you through unreal suffering for the faith like they went through in the book of Hebrews?

Right now, there are Christians in Middle East being crucified for their faith. No really, they are literally being hung on crosses. Are their pastors excited about what God is doing among them?

I am not excited. I am terrified and worried and restless and broke. Emotionally and financially. I don’t even tell my wife the horrors stories of the church anymore because I’m afraid of pushing her over the brink.

I am not excited. I am frustrated and exhausted and just wanna lie down with Sam Adams and Billie Holiday.

I am not excited. Sometimes I want to openly weep for myself and everyone else’s dreams that have crashed like my mason jar on our driveway yesterday, into a million pieces. I’ll be finding those dashed dreams….those pieces of glass for a while now.

I am not excited.

But there is a slight hum of hope in the background. Though the din of this life rings loud and clear – and in stereo – the hope is constantly humming behind it all. I’m not excited about the church but one of those two pastors said this past Sunday, “there is a hope that is deeper than what we are seeing and feeling.”

I heard, “there is hope in Someone and that hope is far too profound for excitement.”