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As I have written elsewhere, more and more I identify less as an Evangelical and more as an Ecumenical.
Here’s a great quote from the profound biblical scholar, M. Robert Mulholland, that will mess with all us evangelicals who were taught to ‘ask Jesus into our hearts’ (whatever that means).
“We don’t invite Jesus Christ into our hearts. We awaken to the reality of God who is already within us.”
Think about that one for a bit. It’s beautiful.
Love God, Love People. It’s like every hipster church’s vision statement. Amirite? It’s a great summary of the Christian faith.
When asked about the greatest commandments, Jesus responded by saying the first and greatest commandment is to love God with all one’s heart, soul, and mind. He then goes on to say that the second greatest command is to love one’s neighbor as oneself. In summary, Jesus says that all the law and the prophets can be condensed to these two commands.
Cue trendy vision statements galore.
What if loving God and loving people were not separate things, though?
New Testament scholar M. Robert Mulholland argues exactly this. The text, he says, could be translated “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. Another way to say this is to love your neighbor as yourself.”
Thus, loving God and loving people are the same thing.
To love God is to love people.
Loving God expands our love for people while loving people is how we love God.
God’s not a dude.
Maybe you already know this, but I think we still need reminders of it. God isn’t a ‘he.’ God isn’t gendered.
I realize this goes against how we often speak of God. We use ‘he’ for God all. the. time. Countless English scripture passages refer to God as ‘he.’ Many hymns and worship songs use male pronouns to speak of God. Over and over in sermons and prayers, we hear preachers reference the Divine as a male.
If you’re a churchgoer, take a tally the next time you listen to a sermon, read a psalm, or recite a prayer in the liturgy. How many do you get?
For many reasons (patriarchy, maybe), using male pronouns to describe God has become the norm. However, I think we should change that.
God transcends gender and referring to God as a male, limits the Divine, in my opinion.
We know Jesus was a male, so, yes, referring to Jesus with male pronouns works. The Spirit is often described with female pronouns in Greek, so remember Spirit isn’t a ‘he’ either. (side note, why do we always put a definite article (the) before Spirit? It’s not the God or the Jesus, but we say the Spirit.) God, Jesus, and Spirit are not an ‘it’ either. Such a word seems to take away the personal nature of the Divine.
Language is expansive. God is even more so. And using expansive inclusive language to speak of the Divine Infinite is quite honoring.
While in seminary, I first heard a fellow classmate read aloud a passage of Scripture as she changed the language of ‘he’ to God. At first, since I was reading along, it seemed so jarring, but it also made complete sense. We were not reading about a male, but about the Ultimate Divine One.
The time I tried this while working in a church, I got a slap on the wrist. Working to rewrite a vision and mission statement with the pastoral staff and elder board, I suggested we change a portion of the phrase from “His world” to “God’s world.” Afterword, I was pulled aside by an elder who told me in all his 60+ years of being a Christian he had never heard God wasn’t a male. This actually surprised me since 60 years gives you good odds you might. Yet it also saddened me since it sounded like a narrow approach to God.
He then warned me that I needed to be careful with how I spoke about God around people. I tried to share that I simply wanted to make sure a name for God was used rather than a gender but his response was a repeated warning.
Yet in my sermons, prayers, and writing of liturgies since then, I have practiced using non-gendered language to describe God. It is quite a simple change that has powerful implications as it can expand our understanding of God.
God’s not a dude. God is greater than dude. God is God.
Here’s some free advice for my fellow pastors and preachers. It came to me after I visited a church recently.
If you’re a pastor, if you’re a male, if you’re trying to be relevant or hipster and connect with your congregation, please for the love of Jesus, don’t ever share in a sermon you are circumcised. Ever. Times sixty trillion.
I saw a pastor do this in his sermon. I almost had a heart attack. And rather than thinking about Jesus in church all I could think of was a random pastor’s man parts. I should probably go to confession. And therapy.
Some things should never, ever, be said from the pulpit. This is one of them.
Another thing you shouldn’t say from the pulpit is that the main point of your sermon is “exegetically and theologically incorrect, but it makes for a great point, so I’m gonna preach it anyway.”
This is why I will only be a one-time visitor to this church.
So, just some free friendly advice for all you out there.
As I was doing today’s Morning’s Office, a passage from the Gospel of Matthew was one of the readings. It’s a well-known text, Matthew 28:16-20. It reads,
Meanwhile, the eleven disciples set out for Galilee to the mountains where Jesus arranged to meet them. When they saw him, they fell down before him, though some hesitated. Jesus came up and spoke to them. He said, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, make disciples of all nations; baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them the commandments I gave you. And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.
I love how sometimes you will read a familiar passage from the Bible and become completely befuddled by it. I can’t tell you how many times I have read a passage and immediately thought, “What? I don’t think I have ever read this before. I never noticed this. Wait, this is really in here?”
Today, I was struck by the first two sentences stating that the eleven disciples fell down before Jesus while some others hesitated. Were they falling down in worship? Why did others hesitate? Were they afraid? Unsure? What were they thinking? I don’t think I ever noticed those sentences before.
If we are familiar with this story, we have probably heard a sermon or teaching on the later phrase “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations.” Often, we are taught the command in this sentence is “go.” Preachers will preach that we are to go evangelize, go do ministry, leave home and go to another country to bring the Gospel message. On and on the sermons can go.
What’s interesting, though, is ‘go’ isn’t the command. It should be translated, ‘while going.’ The command is actually the word ‘make.’ While going, we are to make disciples. And, preachers preach about making disciples. Like, times a million. Of course, it is what the local church should be doing, making students and disciples of those who wish to follow the way of Jesus, the way of love.
But what struck me the most this morning and what I think might be better news than the command itself comes at the end of the passage where Jesus says, “And know that I am with you always, yes.”
Why haven’t I heard a preacher preach that for 35 minutes on a Sunday? That’s what I need to know, experience, and remember. Most days, I forget that or simply do not believe it. Most days I don’t think I live as if this is true. But, if is it true, it changes everything!
The God incarnate, the invisible God made visible, is with me always. Yes.
The Divine isn’t some distant deity but instead is as close to us as our very breath. Present with us always, through all things, in all things. Yes.
How about that for some good news? Yes.
In my younger and well-intended-but-ignorant-conservative-evangelicalism-slipping-into- fundamentalism Christian days, I used to love listening to the Bible Answer Man. It was a call-in radio program where Hank, the Bible Answer Man, would answer any and all questions about Christianity, the Bible, and faith.
Hank knew it all. He had all the right answers. He shot down certain beliefs and religious traditions, pointed out fallacies, proved Christianity to be true, and knew the Bible better than the back of his hand. He was what every Evangelical wished they could be. Thus, why I listened regularly to Hank. I, too, wanted to know all the answers.
Entering seminary, I assumed I’d learn enough to answer any question. Early on, however, I learned that I don’t have all the answers and probably never will have them. Seminary taught me just how little I actually knew. And, it didn't’ give me all the answers. Instead, it taught me to ask questions; about the text, about the context, about the original languages, about textual variants, about ministry models. Rather than avoiding difficult texts or topics, we were challenged to dig in deeper. But, it didn’t mean we always found an answer. Sometimes it was a theory or two while other times we discovered more questions.
The longer I have been a pastor the more I have realized I still don’t have all the answers. In fact, I think I have a lot more questions. As I study the text, explore spiritual practices, and listen to people’s experiences in life, I find myself with fewer answers and the realization that maybe I often ask the wrong questions.
Maybe I’m not supposed to have all the answers and knowledge, and maybe you’re not supposed to either. Maybe the more we contemplate the Infinite One, the more questions we find ourselves asking. Maybe exploring the Infinite One is more important than having answers about the Infinite One.
Recently, I was listening to a podcast of a former pastor who was sharing feedback he had received after a presentation he had given. The audience member came up to him and said, “I didn’t come to get answers. I came to watch you explore in public.”
“I didn’t come to get answers. I came to watch you explore in public.”
It got me thinking, exploring, and asking questions: What if this was how we understood a sermon? What if preaching wasn’t a way to give congregants answers, but instead a way to communally watch someone explore the spiritual life in public?
Instead of treating preachers and pastors as the ones with all the answers, the defenders of dogma and doctrine, the protectors of a particular faith, the gatekeepers of the godly, spewers of spiritual cliches and tweetable truisms, chaperones for the sacred, or judges of the heretics, what if we viewed them as people who were asking deeper and more human questions and allowed them to do that in public?
What if preachers, instead of being known for wearing expensive sneakers in public, were known to explore the spiritual life in public? What if they explored the character and dimensions of the Divine and, as congregants, we simply got to participate in that act?
What if pastors and preachers were never supposed to have the answers in the first place? What if they were simply to be people, like you and me, who ask the honest questions we are also asking, get us thinking together, and create the space so we can open ourselves up to the Divine?
What if a sermon wasn’t supposed to be simply an affirmation of what you already believe, but a chance for you to ask the questions and voice what you hope to someday believe?
I have a sneaking suspicion such preaching could move sermons away from simply giving spoon fed answers to an inclusive and participatory spiritual experience and event. I also think preachers would be less concerned about saying something that might offend and more able to say what congregants have been too afraid to actually voice. And, maybe such preaching would allow us to open ourselves up to the transforming Presence of the One always present to us.
I think that’s what I need in a sermon. And, I think that’s what I want to do in writing a sermon.
But again, I don’t have the answers, I just want to ask the questions and explore the spiritual life together in public.
What is it about a campfire that is so mesmerizing? What is it about a campfire that compels you to contently stare at it for hours? It has the power to draw you in and captivate you. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard a friend say that they could sit around a campfire for hours.
There’s something mysterious and mesmerizing about it. I’d venture to say there is even something spiritual about it.
Throughout the ancient scriptures of the Christian tradition, every time there is a flame or fire, it symbolizes the presence of the Divine.
A pillar of fire leads God’s people through the wilderness. A fire burns on a completely waterlogged altar after Elijah prays for God’s presence. Small fires, like tongues of fire as they are described, are upon all the Apostles at Pentecost, symbolizing Spirit upon each of them.
Within some Christian communities, lighting a candle symbolizes the presence of God. During the season of Advent, the lighting of the candles symbolizes the Light that God brings into the world. To pause and light a candle during a spiritual direction session, for instance, is a way for people to become aware that God is with them.
A core principle of the Quaker tradition is the idea of the Inner Light. Quakers maintain that within every human soul there is a implanted an element of God’s Spirit and Energy. This Inner Light helps each of us to discern between good and evil as well as connects us with every other human. And, it is through this Light that we encounter the Divine.
Jesus is also described as Light. One Apostle describes Jesus as the true light that gives light to everyone. Jesus identifies himself as the Light of the world. He even goes on to claim that those who follow Jesus are the Light of the world.
This isn’t only within Christian circles, however. Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, symbolizes the miracle of God’s providence through lighting the Menorah. In the Hindi tradition, using the Sanskrit word, Namaste, can mean, “The Light within me honors the Light within you.”
So, maybe the reason fire is so mesmerizing is not simply because we’re all pyromaniacs, but instead, is a spiritual experience. Maybe it is awakening us to the truth that there is a Light, the True Light, within each of us. Maybe it is mysteriously connecting us with, and opening ourselves up to, God.
