No Turning Back

Vacation in Acadia National Park in Maine 

For anyone who knows me, the picture above is a head scratcher -- for I am famously afraid of heights. I mean palm-sweating, nearly unable to speak afraid. Thus I can barely ski anymore because of my fear of getting stranded on the lift. Which means I do not climb ladders and will never bungee jump, nor parachute, nor even go up in a nice tranquil hot air balloon at sunrise over the plains of Africa.  

So why did I hike up the Beehive Trail last week at Maine's gorgeous Acadia National Park with my wife Leslie?  It's not like I didn't research the hike. I went online and did hear that one should stay away if one is afraid of heights, but it was "doable" and six year old reportedly easily did the hike.  I told myself: I could do this.  Yet I walked right by this sign at the base of the climb... Bad first move. 

When we ask for signs from God, we don't always expect to see visual signs... (Note to self: read warning signs next time!) 

So Leslie and I made our way up the mini-mountain -- only 520 feet high but straight up. At one point we did say to ourselves that this was a foolish idea: how could we reach the top with our nerves so frayed? We were actually near the top -- about 50 feet away -- when we paused and questioned ourselves.  And then an angel appeared in the form of a hiking park ranger.  She saw our misgivings, yet also our determination and hope to find a way to reach the top. She warned us of the dangers (i.e. asked us if we saw the above sign!) and gave us a choice: head back down or move forward. She also told us that if we wanted to keep going that, "I'll go with you."  THE sign!

She was the encouragement we needed, but also the assurance and the company that sealed the deal. When she learned of what I did for my job/career/vocation, we joked that a few sermons would come out the day and I'm sure she's right. 

For now, this is what I learned:

1. Obstacles, and fear, are real.

2. It's hard to know when it's time to pause, re-assess and perhaps head home.

3. Sometimes we only need a little encouragement, especially when we are so close to our goal. 

4. It sure helps if someone walks with us and we are not alone.

5. Psalm 121 is true: I lift up my eyes to the hills, from where is my help to come? My help comes from... 

6. An angel in the form of a park ranger. 

7. The view is pretty nice from "up there."  

From Good to Great... a different take

Jim Collins wrote the management theory classic Good to Great: Why Some Companies Make the Leap...and Others Don’t in 2001.  He writes about “Good is the Enemy of Great,” leadership and confronting the brutal facts. There is much insight. 

Ronald Rolheiser in Sacred Fire also takes up the subject of going from good to great. And not surprisingly he takes a different route.  He shares a story of a group of struggling priests coming to terms with the realities and challenges of their vocation.  One priest (pg. 143) offered this image: “I sometimes picture my soul as a mansion with thirty rooms. I had given twenty-seven of them to God, but I had kept three for myself. Conversion for me meant giving up those final three rooms.”

Going from a “good” follower of Christ to a “great" follower of Christ involves negotiating the self-imposed boundaries and borders of our lives.  We play this game with God, which God must find amusing.  And frustrating. For how can we ever truly hide from the One who knows all and who loves us because and regardless of it. 

A beautiful poem by Margaret Halaska is offered to illustrate the point. And our takeaway, for our reflection: God likes what God sees in us, so why do we hold back?

Covenant

The Father knocks on my door

seeking a home for his son.

Rent is cheap, I say.

I don’t want to rent. I want to buy, says God.

I’m not sure I want to sell,

but you might come in to look around.

I think I will, says God.

I might let you have a room or two.

I like it, says God. I’ll take the two.

You might decide to give me more some day.

I can wait, says God.

I’d like to give you more,

but it’s a bit difficult. I need some space for me.

I know, says God, but I’ll wait. I like what I see.

Hm, maybe I can let you have another room.

I really don’t need that much.

Thanks, says God, I’ll take it. I like what I see.

I’d like to give you the whole house

but I’m not sure…

Think on it, says God. I wouldn’t put you out.

Your house would be mine and my son would live in it.

You’d have more space than you’d ever had before.

I don’t understand at all.

I know, says God, but I can’t tell you about that.

You’ll have to discover it for yourself.

That can only happen if you let me have the whole house.

A bit risky, I say.

Yes, says God, but try me.

I’m not sure—

I’ll let you know.

I can wait, says God. I like what I see.

Summer Read: Another gem by Ronald Rolheiser

Ronald Rolheiser, a Roman Catholic priest and noted author, is one of my "go-to" sources for wisdom.  

Like Richard Rohr, Rolheiser is very attentive to the season of life. He breaks down the three great struggles of our lives:
     Essential discipleship: the struggle to get our lives together
     Mature discipleship: the struggle to give our lives away
     Radical discipleship: the struggle to give our deaths away.  

Having "gotten my life together" in terms of family, career, house/home, my phase in life is undoubtedly in the middle phase. Giving my life away is a daily happening. 

Yet one clear by-product of the mature phase is a certain restlessness, when as Rolheiser writes: this life cannot give us everything for we which we yearn. 

So we live with frustration and restlessness. 

Question: Consider where and how you might be restless in your life?  


More about Sacred Fire: 
Beloved author Ronald Rolheiser continues his search for an accessible and penetrating Christian spirituality in this highly anticipated follow-up to the contemporary classic, The Holy Longing. With his trademark acuity, wit, and thoughtfulness, Rolheiser shows how identifying and embracing discipleship will lead to new heights of spiritual awareness and maturity.  In this new book, Rolheiser takes us on a journey through the dark night of the senses and of the spirit.  Here, we experience the full gamut of human life, pleasure and fervor, disillusionment and boredom.  But, as Rolheiser explains, when we embrace the struggle and yearning to know God we can experience too a profound re-understanding to our daily lives.

“What lies beyond the essentials, the basics?” Rolheiser writes. “Where do we go once some of the basic questions in our lives have been answered, or at least brought to enough peace that our focus can shift away from ourselves to others? Where do we go once the basic questions in our lives are no longer the restless questions of youthful insecurity and loneliness? Who am I? Who loves me? How will my life turn out? Where do we go once the basic question in life becomes: How can I give my life away more purely, and more meaningfully? How do I live beyond my own heartaches, headaches, and obsessions so as to help make other peoples’ lives more meaningful? The intent of this book is to try to address exactly those questions: How can we live less self- centered, more mature lives? What constitutes deep maturity and how do we reach that place? And, not unimportantly, what constitutes a more adult, Christian discipleship? What constitutes a truly mature following of Jesus?”

In Sacred Fire, Rolheiser’s deeply affecting prose urges us on in pursuit of the most holy of all passions—a deep and lasting intimacy with God. 

Not a blog about gun legislation

When my daughter returned from 10 days out of the country in Germany, she asked what had gone on in the news. I said: more shootings. I am literally losing count. A couple at some schools. Police gunned down in Las Vegas. 

This not a blog about the need for tighter gun laws.  Just a call to reclaim our mission as people and communities of faith. Something is going drastically wrong in our nation that is not happening in the same way and in the same numbers in other developed countries. "Moving to Canada" -- the off-hand slogan of protest -- is not an option. 

I agree with the Bishop of Nevada, who writes in his blog: 

Click here to read Bishop's blog

The Release of Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl

Why do I think the release of Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl this past week from captivity by the Taliban is a harbinger for an even more complex and troubled end to the war in Afghanistan?

And what is a Christian to think in the echo chamber that is today’s 24-hour news cycle? -- Beyond partisan politics and debates over Rose Garden optics…

Should it matter if Bowe Berghahl walked off his post? Did he? 

Should it matter if he began to question the war? What was his mental state?

Is there a process in place to adjudicate his case and have him answer to potential charges of desertion? 

What was it like to be his parents during this time?  What is like to be parents of others who serve in the military?  How do they feel and what emotions do this all kick up?

Did other soldiers die searching for Bergdahl? 

Why did the military promote him from private to sergeant if they believed he deserted?   

What should we do with prisoners held in Guantanamo?  Will they or can they ever be released?  How should we think of and treat any prisoner?

What are we to think of others help captive around the world that we do not know about?  Praying for the kidnapped school girls in Nigeria…

It seems to me that the more we walk through this recent news event/controversy, it might be a good time to check in with the core values of our faith.

How is God present on our battlefields and in our prisons?

How is God present in parent’s anguish? 

How do we pay for mistakes we make? 

Is reconciliation possible? Ever?  (Yes, but it's not easy) 

As you can see, I have more questions than answers.  And I pray for an end to war, the safety of those who serve in the Armed Forces, and peace around the world.  No small thing. 

Comments welcome. 

Ascension Day poetry in memory of the Great Maya Angelou

In honor of Ascension Day, and the spirit of humanity that can overcome oppression and injustice… let us bask in the spirit and the words of the late great poet.

‘Still I Rise’ by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,


You may trod me in the very dirt


But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?


Why are you beset with gloom?


‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells


Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,


With the certainty of tides,


Just like hopes springing high,


Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?


Bowed head and lowered eyes?


Shoulders falling down like teardrops.


Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?


Don’t you take it awful hard


‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines


Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,


You may cut me with your eyes,


You may kill me with your hatefulness,


But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?


Does it come as a surprise


That I dance like I’ve got diamonds


At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise


Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,


Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.


Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,


I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise


I rise

I rise.

A wonderful poem!   And she rose. May she rest in peace. 

Creeds: Do we need them?

Of all the parts of our Sunday Liturgy, the Nicene Creed causes many believers to pause.  How can I believe these ancient words? Do I take them literally? Each one? If I do not believe in one phrase, does that rule out the whole?

I highly commend that you listen to this podcast of Krista Tippet’s On Being program that can be heard on NPR stations Sunday mornings. She interviews the late Jaroslav Pelikan, professor of history at Yale University for four decades

Click here to go to On Faith website 

The gem of this podcast is the sharing of the Maasai Creed from Kenya and Tanzania. Wouldn't this be great to use at Christ Church one Sunday morning?  

The Maasai Creed

We believe in the one High God, who out of love created the beautiful world and everything good in it. He created man and wanted man to be happy in the world. God loves the world and every nation and tribe on the earth. We have known this High God in the darkness, and now we know him in the light. God promised in the book of his word, the Bible, that he would save the world and all nations and tribes.

We believe that God made good his promise by sending his son, Jesus Christ, a man in the flesh, a Jew by tribe, born poor in a little village, who left his home and was always on safari doing good, curing people by the power of God, teaching about God and man, showing that the meaning of religion is love. He was rejected by his people, tortured and nailed hands and feet to a cross, and died. He was buried in the grave, but the hyenas did not touch him, and on the third day, he rose from that grave. He ascended to the skies. He is the Lord.

We believe that all our sins are forgiven through him. All who have faith in him must be sorry for their sins, be baptized in the Holy Spirit of God, live the rules of love, and share the bread together in love, to announce the good news to others until Jesus comes again. We are waiting for him. He is alive. He lives. This we believe. Amen.

The Maasai Creed is a creed composed in about 1960 by Western Christian missionaries for the Maasai, an indigenous African tribe of semi-nomadic people located primarily in Kenya and northern Tanzania. The creed attempts to express the essentials of the Christian faith within the Maasai culture.