You Too

Two nights ago, I had the thrill of a lifetime when a wonderful group of friends from church sent Kristi and me to the U2 concert here in Milwaukee at the Bradley Center. First, a little background -- I have been a U2 fan since 7th grade when I found out that the cute 9th grader from another church youth group liked them, and so I went out and bought a tape the next day (their 3rd album "War") and proceeded to listen to it constantly for about 3 months until it broke. I can't remember the girl's name, but the mates from Ireland have remained close musical friends. Actually, when Kristi and I were in Dublin for a mission trip in college we made a pilgrimage to Bono's house and wrote our names on his garden door (don't worry, that is what everyone did and I hear he didn't mind!). Needless to say, I am a fan.

So having the chance to go and hear them and see them perform was a huge blessing (and a lot of fun too!).

What I love about U2 and I think the key to their staying power, is that they see music not just as an outlet for youthful aggression or a way to keep the party alive, but the belief that music has great power and purpose. The power of poetry set to music can change the world. This is not a new phenomenon. As you know, our own Psalter (the Psalm book of the Bible) is a music book, and has been THE music book for the church since the beginning. Truths put to music are easier to remember, they literally "sing" with praise and purpose. Think about how many songs from your youth you remember, and how few speeches or sayings have stayed locked up in your brain. Music, especially thoughtful, holy music, is a must for us.

And for me, U2's music is a song book for the soul. The first four songs off of "All That You Can't Leave Behind" are like an order of worship for me. "Beautiful Day" is the song of praise, "Stuck in a moment you can't get out of" is a call to confession, "Elevation" is an assurance of pardon, and Walk On (my favorite U2) is the sermon and our charge of hope that God will be with us, even in struggles.

Whether the text is overtly Scriptural (like "40" from Psalm 40 -- the closing song of Sunday night's concert), about the God we love and serve ("Yahweh" from How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb), or a protest against the injustice that surrounds us (like "Sunday Bloody Sunday" concerning the Troubles in Ireland), U2 infuses faith in Jesus and his crazy love for humanity, blends it with our responsibility to love our neighbors as ourselves, and tops it off with great music. There is no other band that I know of as intentional or with as far reaching influence as the boys from Dublin. I was thinking Sunday night that these are evangelists of love with far more weight and pull (sadly enough) than the church in 2005.

Of course, some will argue that they curse a little too much here and there. Others will not support their policies concerning debt relief in Africa, or complain that their arms are open wide to those whose sin is overt or whose views of God are less than what we consider orthodox.

But I can't help but think that their posture of love and embrace of broken humanity has a lot to teach me and the world we live in as disciples of Jesus. In a culture dominated by individualism, isolation, and blame, they embrace a world of community, responsibility for the least of these, and a belief that love covers over a multitude of sins. That sounds a lot like Jesus to me, and I would dare say they follow Christ closer than most of us churchgoers do.

Therefore, I see it as one of my jobs is to pray for these guys, that they might continue to stay true to their call, that they might seek Jesus at every turn, and that they might keep pushing on the issues of the day that break the heart of God (like poverty and the plight of AIDS in Africa).

And I will keep buying albums (and going to concerts too -- hopefully!), and find encouragement to do my part to change the world as well.

My favorite song from Sunday was "Where the Streets Have No Name," which was sung as the flags from African nations danced on the backdrop, and as a call for each of us to come along side them in their hour of need. My prayer is that I (and all of us) can continue to tear down the walls that hold us inside and keep touching the Flame of the Spirit in those places God yearns for us to go the most.


I wanna run,
I want to hide
I wanna tear down the walls
That hold me inside.
I wanna reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name.
I wanna feel sunlight on my face.
I see the dust-cloud
Disappear without a trace.
I wanna take shelter
From the poison rain
Where the streets have no name

Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name.
We're still building and burning down love
Burning down love.
And when I go thereI go there with you
(It's all I can do).

The city's a flood, and our love turns to rust.
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Trampled in dust.
I'll show you a place
High on a desert plain
Where the streets have no name

Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name.
We're still building and burning down love
Burning down love.
And when I go thereI go there with you
(It's all I can do).

AMEN

Car Talk

OK, I'm not talking here about that great show on NPR where Click and Clack give callers advice about their cars and life. I'm talking here about the conversations I have with my kids on the way home from church.

As often happens in a pastor's family, there are normally two cars in the church parking lot that belong to me and Kristi at any given time. Rare is the day that we don't take two cars to church, and often my kids get to come to church twice on one Sunday (!), so...there is plenty of car time for me with them.

And believe me, I learn plenty of things on those 12 minute trips.

Yesterday, my 6 year old explained infant baptism for me.

I'm serious.

We were on my way home, and I was asking them what they learned in Children's Worship, and they were talking about the parable they heard about the shepherd who goes to rescue the one lost sheep because he loves the sheep so much. "And Jesus is the shepherd Daddy, and he will always be with us because Jesus is in our hearts, and just like the shepherd he will always find us no matter what, because he loves us." That's how it went.

And then Lucy asked a great question, that was simple and profound at the same time. She said, "Daddy, did you invite Jesus to be in my heart or did I?"

And the mysterious yet wonderful answer to that question is...YES.

As believers in God's covenant of grace, we know that God's covenant extends from generation to generation. God said to Abraham "I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you." (Genesis 17) Those "offspring" include you and me, as Jesus opened the doors to Gentile types like us. And just like in the "old days" where circumcision was given as a sign of that generational faith, baptism is our spiritual circumcision (Colossians 2 :11ff), a sign that we desire God's covenant blessings from generation to generation. For those of us who have had our Children baptized into the faith, did we ask Jesus to come into our kids' heart? Yes.

But does that mean that they have no say in the matter? No. For each of us as we grow up also have a decision to make. Will we allow Jesus to be our Lord and Savior? As he wrote to the church men and women of Laodicea in Revelation, will we answer the knocking at our heart and let Jesus in to dine with us? (Rev. 3:20) We each have choices to make whether we let Jesus reside with us, or whether we cast him aside.

Do we ask Jesus in into our hearts on our own then? YES as well.

It is one of the wonderful mysteries of our faith, isn't it?

In our Presbyterian tradition, it is Confirmation that signals the time when kids become adult Christians, taking on the responsibilities of their life of faith. But whenever a child makes that decision, we celebrate it and let them know the joy with which God welcomes their adult profession.

Let's be in prayer for our 58 confirmands at Crossroads, and our kids everywhere, that the invitation that was extended to Jesus long ago to live in our kids hearts and lives, may be made into a personal invitation by each child to reside with the Shepherd himself.

Amen.

Talk or Walk

"The one who talks, especially if he talks to God, can affect a great deal, but the one who acts really means business and has more claims on our attention." Reflections for Ragamuffins.

Today at the church I serve (Crossroads) we have the honor of hearing from the moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA), Rick Ufford Chase. Rick is an elder from Tucson, Arizona and works with Border Ministries there, promoting peace, education, and fair treatment for migrant workers.

It turns out I get to introduce Rick at a leadership breakfast this morning, and so I jumped on the internet to get some more background on Rick.

I was impressed. Here is a man who does not just talk the talk, but walks the walk. He and his family have made sacrifices for their faith -- not the least of which is letting Rick be on the road for two years as moderator of the denomination! On Ricks personal website http://www.rickuffordchase.com/, I saw Rick's personal constitution, "I believe that we are called to live as Jesus lived, to risk as Jesus risked, and to care as deeply as Jesus cared." For Rick, this has meant caring for some of the least of these on the border of Mexico. Yet, there is a joy about him that is contageous it seems. This has not been hum, drum work. It is the excitement of the call and the One who has called him that makes Rick come alive.

Needles to say, I am very excited to meet and hear from him in worship this morning.

But as any good testimony and life lived does, it makes me look back at myself and at the church that I serve. How am I living for Jesus? How am I risking for him? How am I caring deeply for the ones that Jesus cares deeply for?

Those questions don't haunt me (maybe they should) -- but they do make me stop and take note. I/we need to examine myself/ourselves and ask, "How are we doing in our life lived in abandon to Jesus?"

"He will show you mercy because you obey the LORD your God, keeping all his commands that I am giving you todya and doing what is right in his eyes." --Deuteronomy 13:17-18.

Speechless

It has been over a week since my last post. I made a committment to myself to post at least twice a week, and here I am in the fourth week of this journal and I've already blown it! I guess I could chalk it up to Labor Day weekends and home painting projects (which explains the pink paint on my arms -- you can tell whose room we were painting!). Aaaaaaah, grace abounds.

But it has also been over a week since Katrina wiped out large portions of the gulf coast and left the city of New Orleans a cesspool. Every report I see, every CNN update I receive via email shows the "Big Easy" becoming more and more contaminated, with less and less hope remaining. Not a minute goes by that we are not forced to contemplate what will become of that whole region, how the poor and impoverished will survive, and what we will tell our children in the aftermath.

As I see these sights and think about these challenges our nation faces, it takes my breath away. Like the Psalmist writing from Babylon, "How can we sing the LORD's song in a foreign land?" (Psalm 137) The fact is the horror leaves us speechless as we don't know what to do with the images and realities we face.

And it makes me wonder to myself, maybe I haven't written in this journal because I don't know if I have the words to do justice to what these people must be experiencing. In fact, NOTHING can be said that adequately describes what is happening.

Last week, a friend asked me where in the Bible we might go to find comfort and wisdom in these days. I thought about it long and hard -- for her question was my question as well. But then it came to me -- the image of hope for us is found in the image and reality of the Cross. For on the cross, God took on human suffering that defies explanation and any words to do it justice. In the cross, we find hope for the dying and diseased, the sick and the sorrowful. In the cross, we see God loving us and identifying with us in the injustice of our existence. And in the cross God has connected himself to us in a Reality beyond time and space.

And in our suffering, we can experience a connection with him like (maybe) no other point in our lives.

So I am choosing to meditate on Christ's cross these next days and months in the aftermath of Katrina. I hope in so doing, I can find hope, intimacy with the Savior, and communion with those who are suffering.

What about you?