Who Makes Us Who or What We Are?

O Lord, make us have perpetual love and reverence for your holy Name … (Collect for Proper 7, Book of Common Prayer)

One day, out on the playground of the elementary school I attended, one of my classmates got into a tussle with some bullies. The mate wasn’t a friend; it’s even possible he had said or done something that instigated the childish taunts and abuses that were directed at him, but I never liked bullies or cruelty, and so I butted in. I told his tormentors to leave him alone. They laughed, of course, because I had no standing on the playground. I was just another nameless, faceless kid who worked hard to blend seamlessly into the scenery.

Not this time. For some reason I have yet to grasp, I felt I needed to address the situation, which I did. The biggest of the toughs turned, snarled, and asked, “Who’s gonna make me?”

I ignored his question, but he didn’t. He let go of his hapless victim and turned his attention on me, and while I would love to say I cleaned his clock in a battle amongst Titans, we simply wrestled a minute or so until he got tired of holding me in a headlock, or the bell rang, whichever came first. The other lad had run off, leaving me to face the three toughs solo, but I guess I had won in that they let the first kid go. That was good enough, and I returned to my life as a chameleon.

The prayer quoted above begins with a strange request: Lord, MAKE us … Make us have perpetual love … Make us have reverence … Make us. We’re asking God to do something unnatural. We’re asking God to force us to do something we may not want to do. Who’s going to “make us” love? “Make us” revere? If there’s force involved, can it be voluntary or genuine? It is an awkward thing to pray for.

On the other hand, “make” can also refer to a manufacturing process. When I make a sandwich, I am doing something. I’m taking bread, butter, mayonnaise, meats, cheeses, and lettuce and creating something that would please Dagwood no end. Asking God to “make us,” in that sense, is asking God to take the raw ingredients of our humanity and mix it with a wide variety of other ingredients so that the end result is something or someone who is pleasingly reverent and loving.

I suppose the starting point of such a prayer assumes that you and I (who, together, form the “us” in the prayer) aren’t yet who or what we should be – right? Prayer can be quite dangerous that way – almost subversive. I mean, the intent of prayer isn’t to change God’s mind or God’s plan; it’s to change us! At first blush, prayer looks like a wish list aimed at God to “get up and do something,” but in reality, God most often effects change through people like you and me.

If we are serious about wanting God to develop perpetual love in us (presumably love for God, neighbor, and self), God may well answer by sending unlovable people and intolerable situations in our direction. If one wants to become stronger, one needs to exercise, right? If I want abs of steel, I need to do more crunches and situps and whatever else fitness gurus insist will get the job done. Asking God to improve our love-life, in effect, may require numerous unpleasant encounters!

The fact is that we are always under construction. The world makes us cold, selfish, arrogant, bitter, quarrelsome, and more (Galatians 5). We have a God who is willing and able to make us lights with which to chase away the darkness, brightening up our neighbor’s day. St. Paul reminds us the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, and so much more.

Jesus is the Bread of Life; we pray for God to make something delightful, loving, and reverent of us. That’s actually a great prayer, isn’t it?

Between the world and God, it’s God who makes the better sandwich with the bologna we have to offer. God always will here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available exclusively through Amazon in Print and e-book)

The Joy of Community

 Waste not fresh tears over old griefs. Euripides

Summer is upon us. Oh, I know it doesn’t officially happen for another week or so, but the weather outside tells me what time of year it is. I don’t need a calendar to tell me we’ve come a long way from the sub-zero days of winter. We may still struggle against an occasional, blustery breeze, and a nightly chill that demands we bundle up, but still, the days are longer and warmer. 

My garage frog continues to call for friends and/or mates. I’ve learned where he lives; there is a gap in the expansion joint that divides (or unites) the garage’s concrete pad and the driveway, and the frog has made him a comfortable home therein (photos below). I thought about removing him, but only for half a moment. It occurred to me that, first of all, he’s not hurting anything by being there, and secondly, his dietary needs are apparently being met, which means he’s keeping ants, beetles, termites, flies, earwigs, and assorted riff-raff out of the garage. I just wish I could claim him as a dependent on my tax returns, but I think he provides enough benefit so that I don’t need to bother Uncle Sam over it.

In addition to the days being longer and warmer, and a frog living quite contentedly in a symbiotic relationship with his landlord, there is much to be thankful for. The long, hard season of pandemic is nearing a tolerable end. I believe Covid-19 will be around for a long time to come simply because not enough people will have taken it seriously enough to eliminate it, but that’s OK. It’s not my job to control the world in which we live, and medical science should be able to keep us about as safe as we can be in a world as uncertain as the one in which we live.

I am blessed. I contracted Covid-19 and survived. I acquired the two vaccine doses when they became available, and will accept the boosters when the time comes, just as I do for the flu. I continue to wear my mask in public, not for fear of contracting the virus or spreading it, but so those around me don’t need to wonder whether I am safe to be around or not. I can go into restaurants to order a meal, and actually take off the mask to eat and converse with others.

This Sunday will mark the first return to in-church worship for my parish since March 2020. We will observe the appropriate precautions, but Good Lord, we’ll be together again! I will continue to work with the A/V and online Live-Feed crew to provide worship to those who are traveling or who cannot attend in person. One of the bright sides of the pandemic has been the need-filling motivation to learn how to use modern technology to share the Gospel more widely than we ever thought possible.

While nothing will replace in-person worship, the ability to bring the good news to the people in their homes has been nothing less than miraculous and, simultaneously, apostolic. As the prophet says, “The people who lived in darkness have seen a great light!” The psalmist also declares: “Light shines in the darkness for the upright; the righteous are merciful and full of compassion” (Ps. 112).

Sometimes folks think a church is all about rules and commandments and, maybe, not just a little bit of hypocrisy. That’s all true, of course, but only to a degree. Churches aren’t perfect, but they do cast light in dark places. A church, as best I can tell, is a community of people called to love others as God has loved them. We fall short, of course. Not everyone is loveable, including us! That’s why we need practice (and a community to hold us accountable for our words and actions).

Left to our own devices, most of us would find reasons not to love. That’s why the world is in the mess it’s in. The church, for me, is a place where that sad reality can be altered, and I’m glad others have found that to be true for them, as well, here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available exclusively through Amazon in Print and e-book).