Curing the IBS of one’s soul

 

"Let their eyes be darkened, that they may not see, and give them continuous trembling in their loins." Psalm 69

Continuing from my last column, we live in an anxious world. There’s lots going on that causes us concern. We worry that if the “other side” wins an election, the world as we know it will end. That would be true no matter which side wins, of course. Each day is new. The world I knew yesterday does not exist anymore, except in my own memory, and I don’t want to tell you how that is doing these days!

I talked about some of the things we can do to reduce our anxiety. Turn off the television, for instance, and put your senses to work. Sometimes our brains are like records where the needle is stuck. Back in the day, you’d bump the machine and the needle would pop past the scratch and continue playing music from a new spot. We treated our records gently, but we also knew they would get worn and scratched over time. By then, though, there was a new set of music arriving on the Top Forty, so we simply moved on and discovered new joys, new sounds, new lyrics, and new artists.

That’s harder to do internally, of course. My brain loves scratchy records. I find it far easier to bring up the slights and injuries of the past than the wonderful things that have happened. When I’m hurt, my brain is velcro; when good things happen, it’s teflon. 

I was glancing at the psalm posted above and couldn’t help but notice just how vindictive the psalmist was. Every now and then we see the dark side of the faithful. In this particular psalm, the author goes on and on about all the terrible things he would love to see God do to those who have irritated the writer. While the sentiments disturb me, I find I understand them all too well.

When people anger us, we want vengeance. I knew a man once who hurt me terribly; he did me a real injustice. One day I heard he’d contracted shingles. Did I pray for his healing? Of course not. I rejoiced and hoped it was a painfully bad case! For a few minutes. I knew in my heart of hearts that I’d been hurt, but to wish pain on others just isn’t right. Even if we feel justified at the moment, we are called to be better than that.

The psalms (and other scriptures) are often mirrors against which we look and see ourselves. While there’s not much I can do about my enemies “out there,” I can certainly be aware of those enemies that lie within my breast, like sloth, lust, anger, pride, envy, gluttony, and greed – the seven deadly sins, as they’re sometimes called. I call them the Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) of the Soul; they cause our loins (figuratively) to quiver, our bowels to run. They are a cancer to us all.

A lot of the anxiety people have to deal with is a result of issues that have never been fully dealt with or resolved. We can’t undo the past, of course; it’s history. I’ve learned to turn things like that over to God and move on. One friend says he tosses those memories into the Lake of Misery and posts No Fishing on the bank.

Finding techniques that work is good. I don’t like how I feel when I’m engaged in conflict, or when I have to deal with toxic people. I ask myself: Is there anything you can do about this? If the answer is no, I leave it and move on. To dwell on things, people, or situations we can’t change is hazardous to one’s well-being. 

What I can change, though, is my attitude. I don’t pray for my enemies in order to heap coals upon their heads, but to unload manure from my own knapsack. I’ve always felt that God has a special filter through which good prayers go directly to God, and the rest go through a heavenly shredder. I find that when I pray right, my soul is at rest, my anxiety is reduced, and my loins quit quaking. It gives me peace here in this, our valley. May you find your peace here, too, as well.

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

Dancing with Herod

This morning I had to check the calendar. We don’t usually hear anything about John the Baptist until December when he’s down at the Jordan baptizing the whole countryside; telling folks to repent; and calling the curious looky-loos a brood of vipers.

I don’t know about you, but I like John. I like his straight-forward manner. At least I like it when he’s pointing out YOUR faults. I’m not sure I would like it if he was pointing out what’s wrong with me, and my life, and my relationship with God. Who does? Who likes it when people point out our faults? Who likes it when people remind us we’re falling short in our responsibilities?

Tell me, if you had a choice, would you rather sit down to dinner with John or Jesus? Who do you think would be the better company? Who do you think would be more fun at a party?

You know, the powers that be didn’t like either one. They didn’t like John, and they didn’t like Jesus. “John’s an old fuddy-duddy,” they said. “Jesus is an irreverent party animal,” they said. One’s too serious, and the other’s got no boundaries. 

John was fine when he was down in the valley, but somehow he got up in Herod’s face, and that’s where we find John today. He’s in jail. He’s in time out. It was one thing when he told the neighborhood schmucks they had to change their way of life.  It was one thing when he told the nameless, faceless throng they had to clean up their act (which is sort of what baptism represents – washing away life’s dirt).

It was one thing when John told the folks down at the Casino their lives stunk like stale beer and old smoke. It was quite another when he told folks in church and synagogue their lives weren’t much better; and it was the last straw when he told Herod – when he told the powers that be – that their lives were just as messed up as the lives of the crowd at the Calico Cupboard or Dad’s Diner.

The NERVE of the guy!

So Herod threw him in jail, and you and I sit here all safe and comfortable. John’s in jail and there’s nothing you and I can do about it. Whew! That was a close call; because there is nothing scarier than having to get up and do something when we see something wrong.

It’s interesting to note this story comes not only in July, for us, but comes just when Jesus has sent his disciples out 2x2 to preach the gospel, heal the sick, and to cast out demons. 

Mark is on a roll. Jesus is on a roll. He just had a bit of a stumble last week in Nazareth where his neighbors turned their backs on him and would have preferred killing him for daring to try to be somebody – for living above his station in life, or for doing things that were clearly above his pay grade and beyond his credentials.

But that’s the way it is in the world. Sometimes you’re the windshield and sometimes you’re the bug. Either way, you get a mess and a loss of clarity.

Jesus doesn’t let this hiccough slow him down, though. He tells his friends, “Don’t let their dirt weigh you down. When you’re welcomed, share the peace of God. When you’re rejected, move on. Don’t mix your tears with their dirt and make mud. Life’s too short to get stuck in the mud, so shake out the dirt and move on.”

So it’s here where Jesus has sent out the Twelve, and it’s here where we get the news: John is dead.

Like a wet newspaper slapped down on the coffee table, Mark drops the news; Jesus sends out the Twelve, tells them “Don’t rely on anything more than your faith in God and the grace of good neighbors,” and BAM: “By the way, John’s dead. Herod killed him and Boss-man wondered if Jesus might be ‘John-come-back-from-the-dead’ to haunt him.”

What happened? Well, it seems that John called Herod out on his arrogance, his abuse of power, his putting himself above the Law – above Torah. People who think they’re above the law – that’s an age-old problem, isn’t it?

That’s putting it mildly. Herod put away his own wife – not a divorce, really, but just shoved her aside – and then took Herodias (who was his sister-in-law AND his niece) and he married her. Talk about incest on so many levels! John said, “Even by your standards, that’s sick.”

So Herod put John in jail, but Herodias wanted him dead. Herod didn’t want to upset the locals, so he kept John around. John was like a little bobble-head toy Herod would bring out from time to time to have a chat with. Herod wasn’t interested in changing or being changed. He just wanted people to know he was very much in charge – show them the hammer – but show them his softer, gentler, kinder side by keeping John alive – an olive branch, if you will.

But as we heard, all that ended when Herod threw himself a birthday party, and once he and his friends were drunk, he had his own step-daughter (who was also his niece) Dance for the Stars, and with ego running rampant – well, you know the story. She danced, he promised, she checked with her mother the Queen, the Queen said, “Off with his head,” Princess says, “Off with his head, but bring it on a platter; after all, this IS a formal occasion!” 

So what are we supposed to make of all this? 

John’s disciples come and take his body away and lay it reverently in a tomb. We get a foreshadowing of Jesus’ own arrest, execution, and burial, don’t we? 

Sandwiched between their going out and coming back (the disciples, that is), we get the story of John’s arrest, execution, and burial. 

It is a reminder that discipleship can be very costly. It is a reminder that doing the right things and doing good things is no guarantee you won’t be hurt. There is a real danger in naming what is wrong in the world and trying to change it.

The story compels us to ask the question: Where are we in this story?

Are we disciples, relying on our faith and the good grace of our neighbors to share the Gospel, bring comfort to the afflicted, and making the world a better place?

Are we Herod, firmly in charge, and with just enough curiosity to come out once a week to dust off our Bibles and prayer books – just enough for the world to see a little bit of piety and compassion, and then put it safely back into the dungeon until it’s time to draw it back out: next week; same time; same station?

Like Herod, sometimes we let our egos run amok. Like one time Barb and I were driving home from Virginia City to Ennis. It was snowing and I had cleared the windshield, but I’d forgotten to clear the headlights, so it was dark and there’s no lights in Montana. I was ready to pull over to clear the headlights when Barb said, “You need to pull over and clear the headlights.”

Something snapped. No one’s going to tell ME what to do, so I kept going. Every time I was ready to pull over, she’d tell me what I needed to do. That was always good for another mile. Dumb. Absolutely dumb on my part. But we do that. We need to recognize that in ourselves. There’s some of Herod in me.

Are we Herodias that wants to kill any thing or any one who dares suggest our thinking or our actions might not be right with God – or just plain sick? 

A man I knew and respected some years ago hurt me bad and threw me under the proverbial bus one time. It was devastating. A few years later I heard he’d contracted shingles. Did I pray for him? Of course not! I rejoiced. For a few moments, I reveled in his pain and suffering. But I also knew that is NOT what Jesus wants of us, or from us. So I repented. There is some of Herodias in me still.

Are we Salome? She wanted to be accepted; she lusted for the approval of her step-dad/uncle, and of her mother. (To be honest, I think Herod would have paid me NOT to dance), but pleasing others is sometimes an issue we struggle with.

Or are we spectators, sitting at the banquet, enjoying the show, but taking no responsibility for what we see happening – neither placing our hand on the sword, nor holding it up to prevent the evil from even happening?

What’s your role in this story?

What is Christ Church’s role in this story?

You will need to answer the first question for yourself.

Vestry will need to answer the second question.

But here is one last point I want us to keep in mind: Each of us takes on each of those roles at some point in our lives – and sometimes all of them at the same time; sometimes the bug, sometimes the windshield, but always messy.

The question is not who we are in this story, but whether we’re willing to become the people God knows we can be, in order to carry out the work that God has laid before us.

That’s the question. And I hope you and I will take our time at coffee and throughout the week to wrestle with those questions, and to come back next week as those who have set their hope on Christ, that “we might live for the praise of his glory.” (Eph. 1:10?) Amen.

Sermon delivered to Christ Church, Anacortes, WA

Fr. Keith+ 07/14/2024

Sleeping soundly in anxious times

 

"I wait for the Lord; my soul waits for him; in [God’s] word is my hope." Psalm 130:4

Life is precarious. We live in anxious times. Amongst the many roles I carried out in active ministry was the role of comforter. I don’t know that I was always very good at it, but I tended to keep a fairly level head in place as others were losing theirs.

Comfort doesn’t mean easy (as in, “my easy chair is quite comfortable”), but conveys a sense of strength or sufficiency. I sleep in comfort because I have food in my belly and a roof over my head. Whenever I take a trip, I’ve got my cell-phone in my pocket and a paper map in the glove box. Not only can I read a map, by the way, I can refold it properly (and while driving, if need be – but don’t tell anyone).

I don’t know what exactly causes anxiety. I am sure it is a vestigial trait left over from our days of dodging sabretooth tigers and dive-bombing pterodactyls. It’s how we survived as a species. We didn’t survive by being anxious, but by being alert to our surroundings. Anxiety is simply alertness that’s gone bonkers, that’s running amuck.

We all face anxiety from time to time. I got a text message the other day reminding me a certain bill was due the next day. I experienced a startle reflex; adrenaline squirted into my bloodstream; my heartbeat increased, as did my respiration and blood pressure. I was filled with a sudden sense of dread, for I am NEVER (all caps) late paying my bills. So I opened up my bank app and confirmed I had, indeed, paid the bill when I had gotten it weeks earlier. My bill-pay system is set up to remind me of upcoming bills, and doesn’t have a built-in feature to cancel notifications when the silly thing has been paid.

The point is, I could have gotten bogged down in the pond of despond, or gone into full-blown feces-tossing monkey mode (as happens on occasion – what good is it being descended from apes if we can’t act like it every now and then?). I could have, but I didn’t.

No, while being alert and experiencing anxiety have their place, the question before us is: What to do?

Anxiety short-circuits the brain, so I find it most helpful to address anxiety by grounding myself in reality. We have five senses, so if I find my heart up in my throat over some issue (real or imagined), I set it (that feeling, emotion) aside and put my senses to work. I may pick up my coffee mug (touch) and look at it (sight). Which mug am I using? Where did I get it? How was the coffee this morning (taste). Inhale (smell). Can I hear the coffee sloshing around the mug (hearing)? Those few moments of distraction are generally all I need to settle the monkey brain.

The second thing I do to reduce anxiety is to address what’s causing it. If it’s the news, turn it off. Burying one’s head in the sand creates its own issues, but if talking heads and “Breaking News” is breaking you, then turn it off. The only thing one needs from the media are Amber Alerts and Tsunami Warnings. Everything else is noise.

Third, do what you can, not what you can’t. When our roof sprung a leak the other day, we did not sit passively and do nothing. We called a roofer. We unplugged the microwave through which the water was dripping, and sopped up the water as it dripped. We waited for the roofer, and when they arrived, we rejoiced. They found the leak and patched it in under five minutes! 

The psalmist calls out to God in an anxious time (Psalm 130): “Out of the depths I have called to you, O Lord …” but they don’t stay there. Instead, they wait. They don’t sit on their thumbs. They’re not passive. They make amends. They clean house. They prepare their hearts and homes for the One who will make things right. 

Jesus says, “Why worry? God cares for birds and lilies. How much more does God care for y’all.” Like Jose the roofer, God’s got us covered here in this, our valley. That’s comforting to know.

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