Proper 4, Year B: Sabbath: The Law of Life

Proper 4 (2nd Sunday after Pentecost)

St. Paul’s (Mount Vernon, WA)

Track 2: Deuteronomy 5:12-15; Psalm 81:1-10; 2 Corinthians 4:5-12; Mark 2:23-3:6

Give ear, O heavens, and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth. 

For I will proclaim the Name of the Lord, and ascribe greatness to our God.

My mother would not have approved.

In the Gospel this morning, Jesus is brought up short by some Pharisees (people who were quite nit-picky about Torah – the “Law and Order” crowd, we might call them). Jesus and his friends were walking along one day – it was the Sabbath – and they were strolling through some fields plucking heads of grain off some oats, wheat, or barley as they were passing through.

The Pharisees saw this and said, “Whoa, wait a minute. You can’t do that; it’s the Sabbath!”

Now, it was bad enough for the disciples to be violating the Sabbath, but what’s worse is that Jesus, the Rabbi, the Teacher, the Chaperone on this little class outing let them do it!

“You should know better,” they said.

And Jesus does. Jesus knows the Law. Jesus knows the Torah. Jesus knows the rules. Jesus knows what it means to be a good, faithful Jew. Or if he didn’t know, he SHOULD have known. Otherwise he should turn in his teaching credentials.

Then Jesus answers them with that classic fourth grade deflection: “Yes, but they did it. They got away with it!”

He’s pointing back to a time when David (before he was King David) was staying one step ahead of King Saul (who was out to kill him). David was a renegade in those days, and he and his men were hot, tired, thirsty, and hungry, so they dipped into the House of Worship (this was before there was a proper temple) and ate what we used to call the Shew Bread. It was reserved for the priests, the clergy, the Upper Crust of society, if you will.

“They did it,” says Jesus, and we expect him to answer, “so why can’t we?”

My mother would not have accepted that answer. She would not have approved.

Mothers across America (and maybe Dads, too) have had to deal with the argument put forth by kids since time immemorial: “Yeah, but what about them?”

“Yeah, they get to stay up late on a school night; they get to go to the concert; they get to do this; they get to do that …”

On and on it goes. And what do mothers say? How do parents respond?

“If Suzy’s mother let her jump off the cliff, that’s fine; I’m not Suzy’s mother. I’m your mother and I have my reasons.”

The only argument left at that point is, “Well, that’s just not fair,” at which point we parents collectively roll our eyes and tell them: (prompt): Life’s not fair!

But did you notice, Jesus did not take that route. He used that little bit of rationalization to draw in his opponents, to get to the point he really wanted to make: his teaching point. He didn’t say, “Well, David broke the Law then, so I can break the Law now.”

He didn’t do that. He said (in essence), “The overarching purpose of Law (of Torah) is Life. Torah does not shackle us with rules, but frees us to live. God did not give us Sabbath to nail us down, but to free us up.”

Jesus is revealing to them something we might call today a Paradigm Shift.

A paradigm shift is that Ah Ha you get when you not only see things differently, but shift your underlying assumptions about it.

For example, a man invents a process for putting an image onto paper using heat and some special stuff he’s cooked up. He took it to Kodak to show them a new way to make pictures and they laughed him out of the office. “That’s not how photography works,” they said. The man found other investors and invented the thing that makes our bulletins possible: XEROX! 

The underlying assumption of Kodak was that photography required film, silver nitrates, special paper, chemical solutions, fixers, and all that nonsense. The Paradigm train came to them, and they missed it by a mile.

A second example: A man goes to Switzerland to show them they could make time pieces using quartz crystals. The Swiss clock industry laughed him out of the room. “That’s not how you make watches and clocks, “ they said. “You need gears und springs und little hands that go ticky tocky.”

They laughed him out of the room, so he went to Japan. Has anyone heard of Seiko? There is another way to keep time, using … rocks? Quartz? Another group that missed the Paradigm train.

One last example: I was graduating from the Spokane Police Academy and needed to contact one of my friends in Pullman to tell him where the ceremony would be and what time, but when I dialed his number, I got a message the call couldn’t go through because the lines between Spokane and Pullman were down.

I dialed the operator and told her my problem. She said she was sorry, but the lines were down and she couldn’t make the connection. Then I said, “Well, can’t you go through the back door?” 

She said, “What do you mean?”

I said, “Can’t you route the call from Spokane to Coeur d-Alene, down to Moscow, and then over to Pullman?”

She paused for a moment and said, “Yeah, that would work.” And we were able to make the connection.

That, by the way, is how the internet works, routing traffic by finding the best route it can. So I stand here today to let you in on a little secret; it wasn’t Al Gore who invented the Internet; that was me.

Anyway, a Paradigm Shift is all about finding new ways to see the world by being willing to set aside assumptions that may no longer be working well for us, and finding there may be a better way to do things, to approach things …

… a better way to live, and that’s what Jesus is doing.

Sabbath isn’t about NOT WORKING. It’s not even really about RESTING. It’s finding a way to live in the presence of God and with one’s neighbor.

This is Pride Month, and we are in the midst of another major Paradigm Shift where we’ve been busy breaking the chains that defined who we’re supposed to love and how we’re supposed to love, and what we’re supposed to look like and dress like, and behave, and all that sort of stuff.

These changes can be very unsettling. I’d like you to take your hands and clasp them together, like this (demonstrate).

Now, when I clasp my hands, my left thumb is always on top. Always. I don’t have to think about it. Now I want you to switch, so your other thumb is on top. Switch. (pause)

First, notice you had to think about it. Tell me, does that feel natural? To me, it feels kind of weird and icky. That’s because I’m not used to it.

There is no law that tells us which thumb should be on top. Thumbs aren’t the boss of us. God gave us thumbs to help us do the things we need to do. 

“Loving God, neighbor, and self … that’s the thumbery of the Law.”

The point Jesus is making is underscored by the second scene in today’s Gospel reading where a man comes to Jesus with a hand that is useless. The paradigm of the day would have said, first of all, this man is a sinner, otherwise God would not have afflicted him this way. Secondly, it is the Sabbath, so a healer (especially) should not heal. If you break this norm, Jesus, all heck will break loose!

Jesus asks, “Is this OK (to heal on the Sabbath)?” 

The Pharisees stood there, their hearts shackled to the stone tablets of Torah. Their hearts were as cold, dark, and immoveable as Mount Sinai. Their eyes said, “We double-dog dare you; we TRIPLE-DOG dare you.”

What they said did not matter. What they thought did not matter. Jesus ignored the Torah-ble people staring him down. Turning to the man with the withered hand, Jesus simply said, “Stretch out your hand.” He did as Jesus said, and he was made whole; he was made holy, by Golly.

We have the opportunity today to choose whether to live like those Pharisees, bound and shackled by rules and traditions (which isn’t to say that rules and traditions aren’t important), but if those rules keep us from living and sharing the light and life God has for us and for the world around us, then what good are they? What good are we?

Just because it isn’t Lent, that doesn’t mean we don’t need to engage in self-reflection and ask God to transform our withered hands and clenched fists and open them to release God’s grace and love in good and kindly service here in this, our grain picking community of saints and sinners.

Amen.

The Rev. Keith Axberg, Retired

For Our Graduates & Graduates-to-be

The author putting away books in the Textbook Store Room at Ballard High School (ca. 1967-69), Photo credit: Gary Sly

Consider it a pure joy, my friends, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Bible (James 1:2-3)

As we approach the end of yet another school year, I can’t help but imagine how much joy and sorrow the Class of 2024 must be experiencing. On the one hand, they are approaching their final exams, and that is always quite stressful – a do or die time; and then there is the question for many of what to do this summer and for the rest of their lives.

I look back over the decades that separate me from the academic and vocational graduations I have gone through and I know there is no way I could have imagined or predicted the path my life would have taken, the places I would have seen, the people I would have met, the things I would have accomplished, and the areas in which I would have been a dismal failure.

It would be easy to get caught up in the misery of those failures, those places where we’ve hurt others by things done and left undone, said and left unsaid; it would be equally easy to ignore those painful memories, to gloss over them as matters we can do nothing about, so “move on.”

Neither option is good, however. It does no good to get bogged down by things we cannot change; but neither does it behoove us to bury them, for a burial does not lay to rest as much as it plants a mine. We never know when someone will step on it (or in it) and the damage that will be done when it explodes.

Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” He was on trial for teaching that people should challenge the accepted beliefs and ideas of the age. He was not promoting anarchy, but rather was advocating for the careful, methodical, and thoughtful examination of evidence – testing one’s beliefs, as it were.

His advice for society is also good for the individual: Put life to the test, not to break it, but to prove it. That is the purpose of testing, you know; not to break things, but to prove them. Students and pupils are given tests to help determine whether or not they have mastered the material they’ve been given.

It isn’t the material that is important (we’ve always got the Internet to fall back on, don’t we?). There is no shortage of material. What is important is learning what to do with the material we have.

When we fail, it is more important than ever to face it honestly and ask ourselves what happened so that we can figure out what we might need to do differently in order to prevent repeating that lack of success. We don’t need to hide our shame, for there is nothing shameful about falling down. The shame is found in doing the same thing over and expecting different results (a colloquial definition of insanity).

Tests are simply challenges we face which help us determine where in life we need to grow, change, or improve.

If I was to offer this year’s graduating class any advice (and admittedly, they’ve not asked) I would simply suggest that they not take themselves so seriously that they fail to enjoy the life they’ve got.

Work hard, but don’t be obsessive about it. Figure out what you’re doing right, and stick with it. Figure out what’s not working for you, and let it go. Listen to your friends, but listen to yourself as well; go with your gut. On those rare occasions when your gut’s wrong, admit the mistake, fix the damage, make amends, and move on.

If and when you feel trapped by life or life’s circumstances, pray for freedom – by which I mean freedom from fear. Experiment carefully, experience freely, and look for the dream that might well be eluding you. It is there; maybe you need to listen for it, more than look for it, but that’s OK. Use all of the senses God gave you – including Common Sense.

Life is full of tests, but there’s nothing to fear, for God is with us every step of the way in this, our valley. Congratulations Class of 2024; test your footing, and Go (courageously) in Peace!

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)

SEVENTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

A sermon delivered to Christ Church, Anacortes, WA 

Collect:

O God, the King of glory, you have exalted your only Son Jesus Christ with great triumph to your kingdom in heaven: Do not leave us comfortless, but send us your Holy Spirit to strengthen us, and exalt us to that place where our Savior Christ has gone before; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

There’s a lot going on today. Today is Mother’s Day, of course. It’s not a day you’ll see on the Church Calendar; it’s an American holiday. But we recognize the importance of being nurtured when we come into this world, whether we are nurtured by our mothers or fathers, aunts, grandparents, caring teachers at school, foster parents, Sunday school teachers.

People who care for us, who watch over us help us understand a little something about the nature of God. After all, since we were created in the image of God, there is something we can learn about God from one another.

Scientists, psychologists, and medical professionals all confirm the importance of our bonding from the time we are born, or maybe even from the time we are conceived; how important that is for our physical and for our mental health and emotional well-being. How we bond with one another helps us understand how we can bond with God.

If you’ve been to California and visited the Redwood forests and walked around the Giant Sequoias, you’ve no doubt been impressed by how large and tall those trees are. What’s amazing, though, is how shallow their roots are. You would think those massive trees must have an equally massive taproot reaching down towards China or Australia to handle the physics of standing upright, but they don’t. Those massive trees send their roots out sideways, and they intertwine with the roots of their neighbors so that they stand, not alone, but in community. They support one another so that even when those powerful storms blow in off the Pacific, they’re able to stand tall, because they stand together.

It’s always dangerous to speak in generalities, because there are always exceptions. We’re old enough here where many of our mothers have gone or passed away. There are children in our community waking up on Mother’s Day where they know Mom was murdered; others where their Moms are incarcerated; others where their Moms have abandoned them. We live in a broken world. 

We know that; God knows that, too.

There are probably a lot of Hallmark Mothers in our community (and a lot of them are here, too, as we speak), but there are also enough exceptions that we need to be careful. So we honor our mothers, but we do so honestly.  Each of us has a story to tell. Some of us grew up with stable homes; others not so stable. 

Jesus was blessed to have a Mother and two fathers. Sure, he was born in a barn, but maybe that’s how he turned out so stable, eh?

So we honor mothers, but especially the nurturers. However God fashioned them for us, whether they have a biological tie to us or not; it doesn’t matter – we honor them. We honor those who bore us, who raised us up, who nurtured us, who took care of us, who watched over us.

I can still remember walking to school by myself for the first time. My mother would walk me to school every day throughout kindergarten and on into 1st Grade. It was a bit of a hike. We were on the edge of the boundary for Whittier Elementary. It was uphill in both directions, of course, and we had to cross 15th Avenue, which was a pretty busy street, even in the mid-1950s.

One day Mom told me I was old enough to go to school on my own. I knew the way, but the idea of making that trip all by myself was pretty scary. As you can probably tell, I made it. I knew the way. I knew how to look both ways before crossing the street. I knew to cross 15th at the light at 80th. It was better to cross there so I wouldn’t have to walk past a couple of sleazy establishments  further down the road.

I was pretty much of an airhead as a young lad. Today, I’d probably be called ADHD, but back then I was just an absent-minded youngster making my way to school, oblivious to the world around me. I don’t know if she ever followed me those first few days I went to school solo, but even if Mom wasn’t with me physically, she was with me in the confidence I had to make that journey. 

I think Jesus gave his disciples confidence for their journey. He sent them out 2 x 2 during his ministry with them. Like Mom, when they came back, he asked them, “How was it?” 

When they told him how excited they were, how people were healed, and helped, and demons cast aside, you could see Jesus bursting with a Momma’s pride, “You done good, guys and gals. You done good!”

Today is the seventh Sunday of Easter. We’re in the middle of that ten day period we call Ascensiontide. It’s that scary little gap between Jesus going home and God’s Spirit pouring down upon us. 

For me, the Ascension isn’t as much about Jesus heading home to God, but Jesus letting go of us, just like Mom let go of me those many years ago.

Another story – another image.

There’s a priest over at St. Paul’s in Mount Vernon who has a hawk (Elrond). He takes the hawk down to the valley to fly loose. That way Elrond gets to stretch his wings, exercise, and do what hawks do (as raptors).

One day a few months back, Elrond decided he didn’t want to come back to Paul. He wanted his freedom. He didn’t come when called; he ignored the lures and the wounded rabbit noise-maker. 

Every day for a week or two, Paul went down to the valley, hiking, seeking, calling for Elrond. He could see his beloved hawk up in the trees, totally ignoring him. But then, one day, Elrond apparently had finally had enough of freedom. The hawk decided that life in the wild wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Elrond came home, much to Fr. Paul’s great delight.

The story of the Prodigal son comes to mind, doesn’t it? We rejoice when our kids come home, don’t we? So does God, our Prodigal mother!

Another story – another image.

Many years ago when our son was only about 4 years old, we went down to WSU to watch the Cougars take on the Oregon Ducks at Martin Stadium. During the game, our son needed to use the restroom, so (of course) I took him. When he was done, it was my turn and I told him to wait for me, but when I turned around he was gone. In a sea of 35,000 souls, I’d lost our first-born male heir! I’ll be honest; I wasn’t as worried for him as I was about what Barb would do to me for losing him in the first place! Fortunately, he’d simply gone straight back to where his mother was sitting and waiting (so I didn’t have to tell her I’d lost him). But I told her, and we laughed about it.

God knows we’re human. God knows we sometimes get lost or confused. God knows we sometimes worry more about our own skin than that of those we’re called to love and care for. Acknowledging our faults draws us closer to one another. Making amends heals our relationships with God and with one another.

So what are we doing here today?

Jesus ascends to his Father and says to the Disciples, “Wait here. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you without One who will strengthen you and remind you of everything I taught you.”

That’s the Christian Faith in a nutshell, isn’t it? We aren’t alone in this. 

Even when Jesus is out of sight, we’ve still got him here ♥️. We don’t look both ways before crossing the street because them’s the rules, but because our parents live inside of us; they’re guiding us from within, so we’re not even really aware of their presence, but we are living out of their presence.

In the Gospel, we find Jesus praying. His prayer boils down to this: “Father, I’ve done my best. What you gave to me, I have given to my disciples, and what I have done, they are doing. You will be more than pleased by their work. They will bring honor and glory to your house and make you proud!”

It is that confidence I find striking in the Gospel today. It’s the confidence Jesus has in us to do the right thing. What is the right thing?

What does God require of us? The prophet Micah says: “To be just and fair, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God.”

When the student of the Law asked Jesus what he needed to do to inherit eternal life, what did Jesus say? “To love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength; and your neighbor as yourself.” 

When the lawyer said, “Yeah, I’ve done all that. Anything else?”

Jesus answered him: “Yeah, don’t be so stingy.”

Now, we can get all caught up on the details, like Peter asking how often we should forgive (70 times 7!), or like the lawyer who asked, “Oh yeah, and who on earth is ‘my neighbor’?” (The one you'd rather be dead than let them touch you).

But the bottom line in every case is the same: “Are the words of this mouth and the meditation of this heart pleasing to God?” When an opportunity arises to be fair, to be loving, to be merciful, to be humble, to be kind – are we? 

Do the words that come out of our mouths and the things we do with our hands and feet bring glory to God, or something less?

On those rare occasions I committed some great transgression, my mother’s response was almost never to scold, but to say, “You can do better,” or “You know better than that.” I think God is a lot like that. I think we greatly overestimate how many handbaskets God owns, to send us packing to the hot spot. 

I believe God has one handbag and is determined to bring us all home in it. I think that’s the point Jesus is making. For God, you and I are God’s treasure. 

A final story:

My grandmother would sometimes take my brother and me for the weekend; it was always a treat for us (probably a treat for my parents, come to think of it). My brother and I never had to worry about anything. Mammam took perfect care of us. Every now and then she would give us a real special treat. We’d get all dressed up and go downtown Seattle to see a movie at the Martin Cinerama or the Paramount; top notch films like Spartacus, or How the West was Won, or even JAIL HOUSE ROCK. Can you believe it? Grandma really liked old swivel-hips, himself!

Mammam always took care of the bus fare, and once we were on our way, she’d reach deep into her handbag and bring out her real treasures: individually wrapped butterscotch candies!

They weren’t rewards for good behavior, nor were they bribes to get us to sit quietly. No, they were just tokens of her love for us; sweets for her sweets.

I think of that when we break the bread or share the cup; It’s an image of God reaching into her purse and sharing a token of her love for us, sharing a token of her love with us. Sweets for her sweets. 

May the blessings of God our Mother be upon each and every one of us this day, and always; in Jesus' Name we pray. AMEN

Reading Nature

 

“Reason and the divine spirit do not speak audibly or strikingly enough from a human being – stone, trees, animals must speak in order to make the human being feel himself and make himself reflect.” Novalis, Logological Fragments II

It has been a wet and rainy spring here in the Pacific Northwest. The lawn has grown tall, lush, and green; the flowerbeds have been overrun by weeds, which I find so strange, as weeds don’t have legs. Nevertheless, weeds have combined in such a way to cast doubt on whether or not we have flower beds. One could argue, “It’s a jungle out there!”

Hail hits deck and yard recently; crabgrass thrives!

I don’t mind, of course. This morning the sun is shining; there is a light breeze blowing over the yard, removing the dew at a clip that seems unreasonably rushed. Birds of all sorts (sparrows, crows, thrushes, robins, blue jays) have been hopping around the grass and beds greedily pecking and snapping up all of the culinary delights they can find. Birds are dancing along fence tops; some seeking mates, others warning off interlopers, and some (I suspect) just dancing and singing because they can. Not one of them holds a sign offering to sing or dance for pay; they do so because the Spirit moves them to.

I’ve been reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, An Altar in the World, and am reminded of how easy it is to get caught up in the busy-ness of life that we forget to stop, pause, and reflect on what’s happening around us. It’s easy for me to think, for instance, having devoted the better part of four decades to preaching, teaching, praying, worshiping, and leading congregations that I have somehow, in that process, worshiped God.

I have, of course; but there’s more to worship than the rites and rituals to which we’ve become accustomed (and attached). There is seeing and appreciating the divine in the world around us. If God is all in all, as we say we believe, then we ought to be able to sit still and listen for the still, small voice of God whispering sweet lullabies. 

I’ll admit I spend far too much time living inside my head. No, Socrates and Einstein need not fear they’ll have to move over in the Great Hall of Mental Giants. What I mean is that if one were to look inside my head, they would find words, thoughts, and ideas constantly bouncing around and ricocheting off of one another like a perpetual shoot-out at the OK corral. 

With all those pings, pews, and whiz-bangs flying around in there, I seldom stop long enough to truly appreciate the world around me. I don’t mean to neglect the outer world; it’s just hard to focus on what’s happening outside when one is busy dodging mental bullets inside.

Ms. Taylor, though, encourages her readers to do just that. She’s not spouting a cliche, telling us to stop and smell the roses. She’s inviting us to take time to consider – really consider – the wonders of the world around us. 

I was looking at the lawn the other day, for instance, and noting how long it had grown. But I also noted how much quack grass was mixed in with the regular grass. Admittedly, I don’t know my fescues from my Montagues, but my initial reaction was wanting to hit the lawn with some sort of weed and feed.

But then I wondered, why should I try to rid the lawn of the other varieties that have snuck in over time to become part of the lawn? When I was growing up, lawns included about 25% clover. Clover wasn’t considered a weed, but actually was intended to help the lawn stay green when the normal grasses were going dormant in late summer. 

Why must our lawns be green? Why must we rid our lawns and flower beds of those things we (artificially) call weeds? Do not weeds return oxygen to the air we breathe? Do weeds not produce flowers that feed the bees, and nectar for hummingbirds? 

All of this is just a start, of course, but those are the questions that arise as I consider God’s handiwork. I don’t hold the world in near-enough awe; consequently, I don’t hold Adonai in near-enough awe. I want to rethink how I read nature and our Creator 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 through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Books: a novel way to learn

 

“Libraries store the energy that fuels the imagination. They open up windows to the world and inspire us to explore and achieve, and contribute to improving our quality of life.” Sidney Sheldon

I read an article the other day that estimated a trip to another planet one single light-year away, using current technology, would take about 4,000 years. While there were road trips in my childhood that might have felt like forty centuries, that’s an unbelievably long time between pit stops. How many times would a child have to ask, “Are we there, yet?” before the Captain of the starship would jettison them into the deep, dark voids of space?

Fortunately, I have been to the far corners of the universe and beyond many times in my few decades on earth, courtesy of those rectangular blocks of wood commonly called books.

I was never a great reader in school, and often struggled to keep pace with reading assignments. I don’t suffer from dyslexia or other reading disorders. I’m simply a slow reader; I always have been. Admittedly, school textbooks are seldom written in a riveting style of prose. The calculus of algebra was unfathomable and incalculable to my gray matter. Social Studies stunted my capacity to socialize the way I’d hoped to, and science textbooks managed to do the impossible in that they made time, itself, stand still.

Nevertheless, there were some books that restored a sense of life and vitality that the vampiric codices required by the school system sucked out. They were located in a special section of the library; they were called novels. 

For me, Science Fiction latched onto a few of those brain cells that still had the cellular equivalence of pulse and respiration. I came, I looked, and I found titles that grabbed my attention; suddenly, a mad scientist somewhere cried out, “He’s alive. He’s alive!”

Sometimes people denigrate fiction as being unreal or fake. And sure, fiction may be untrue in the sense of it relaying events that haven’t happened. But fiction can still be true and brutally honest, like To Kill a Mockingbird. 

A novel is a story told through the imagination of its author. Now, I’ll admit that romance novels are a genre that almost gives the lie to what I just said. They may be great escapist fare for some folks and trash to me, and yet one person’s trash is another person’s treasure. 

Who am I to judge the story of a lady who falls in love with some dude with washboard abs, chiseled jawline, soft eyes and a long-flowing mane, while my protagonists explore strange new worlds and wrestle with extra-terrestrial baddies? 

The point is that stories invite us to see the world through the eyes of those who are not us, whose life experiences are different from our own. Good writers pour themselves into those stories; we experience their struggles, their questions, their dilemmas. As we read, we find our perspectives affirmed or challenged, and sometimes changed or even broken. 

Book clubs often help us find books we’d avoid if left to our own devices. 

Right now I am walking in the shoes of a black man who is writing a letter to his son (Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates). I am walking alongside Detective Inspector Konrad Sejer, investigating the murder of a mother and her toddler in a dumpy trailer in a small town in Norway (Hell Fire, Karin Fossum). I’m sitting beside a historian, leafing my way through ancient scrolls, deciphering inscriptions on tiny shards of pottery (Why the Bible Began, Jacob Wright). 

I have discovered that books, even those considered “escapist fare,” are a way to burst the bubbles into which we often wrap ourselves. Books allow us to stop and ponder what we’re reading. Unlike movies that whip along, or pundits that natter on endlessly on the telly, books allow us time to think, to process, and to discover a world that lies beyond our own line of sight. 

I find that critically important, especially in these days where so few are able to think beyond the depth of a meme about anything. Libraries are where the brains of the universe are stored. I commend reading to all of you 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 through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Easter 3: The Kingdom of Heaven is like a Nurturing Momma

“See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called Children of God.” 1 John 3:1

How many of you know that today? How many of you know that God loves you, and that you are children of God, and that no matter what: no “one” and no “thing” can take that away from you now – or ever?

You and I are children of the most amazing God. We worship a God from whom it is impossible to escape his loving embrace.

With enough power, we can leave the earth. We proved that with the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo space missions. We can leave the earth; we can escape earth orbit. But we have NO power to escape God’s great love for us.

What does that mean?

In ACTS 3 we see the story of John and Peter. They went to the temple, as was their custom; they healed a man crippled from birth (Note: he was looking for a handout – as was HIS custom – what he received from the apostles was FAR greater); people are upset – Why? It seems to them that their world is being turned upside down. In their world-view, the man is crippled because of his sin or the sins of his parents. Peter: It doesn’t matter. The fact is, it was God who did this – not us.

It was by FAITH IN HIS NAME – the name JESUS – that made him whole.

The name “Jesus” means “Yah Saves, Yah Heals”.

It is the FAITH that is THROUGH Jesus that has restored him

And here is the kicker:

What we do is sometimes evil – whether out of ignorance or malice – but that doesn’t matter. The Bible tells us – the Gospel tells us: Turn to God, and God will restore you too; God will heal you, too; God will save you, too.

That’s what God does; that’s what God wants – more than anything.

What is your image of God? Is your god Vengeful? Angry? Demanding? 

I try to stay away from people who act like that.

I try to stay away from people who are dangerous to my well-being, who are toxic to be around.

But what if the God we worship isn’t mad, angry, vengeful, or just waiting for us to goof up so he can toss us into the fire?

What if God actually delights in us? What then?

When I have people who nurture me, who care for me, who take care of me, who embrace me when I need it, and give me space when I need space, and who energize me when I am feeling drained – do you think I run from those kind of people, or run towards them?

John says: “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called Children of God.”

As children, we have our DNA from our parents. 

As Christians, God replaces our DNA with God’s own spiritual DNA. God is converting/transforming our junky old DNA – the kind that leads to war, strife, greed, gluttony, etc. – to godly, holy DNA – the kind that leads to love, joy, peace, and grace: that produces the fruits of the Spirit.

In his Epistle, the Apostle John says, “we don’t look like God yet, but we’re getting there.” We are the evidence the world is looking for that there is a God who loves them THIS MUCH.

So, how do we do that? How do we make that “love” more visible?

First of all, we become a nurturing community – we become a people who are known as people who don’t just nurture one another – even the heathens do that – but who nurture the world.

It sounds like a big job, but God has faith in us. How do I know?

Jesus says: I am not a ghost. Feed me.

In Matthew (25) Jesus says: As you feed, clothe, visit others, you do so to me.

We take care of Jesus – even the risen Jesus – one person at a time. 

We don’t have the resources to take care of 7 billion people, but we do have resources to provide friendship to those who are lonely – here. 

We provide food to those who are hungry – here. 

We provide shelter to those who are cold – here. 

We visit those who are ill – here. 

We do what no one else in the world will do because that is what God has called us to do; that’s who God has called us to be: people who look and act like Jesus, because that’s what it means to be a child of God – and God knows we can do it through FAITH IN HIS NAME. 

“See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called Children of God.” 1 John 3:1

Secondly, we open our eyes and see what love God has given us; how God comes running to us when we are hurt, lonely, or afraid.

We pray, “Our Father …” That is a term of endearment. We pray “Our Father …” because we know that everything is his – and he lavishes us with good gifts. I remember that old tune we sometimes sang at the offertory in some of my early churches: 

“All things are thine, no gift have we, Lord of all gifts, to offer thee, and hence with grateful hearts today, Thine own before thy feet we lay.”

We pray “Our Father” because we have a God who cares for us every bit as deeply, every bit as lavishly, every bit as passionately as Mother, Father, Brother, or Sister ever has – and more. We just have to look up, like the man at the gate.

That’s both a challenge and a promise, and it’s ours for good. AMEN

When Your Pants Ride High

“Those who guard their mouth and tongue Guard themselves from trouble.” Proverbs 21:23

I am usually a mild-mannered sort of dude. There’s not a lot that ruffles my feathers. I don’t mind when traffic is heavy and slow; I know I’ll get to where I’m going. I don’t mind when there is a wait to get a seat at a restaurant on a Friday night; I know they’ll seat me as soon as they can. I don’t mind when people bump into me when they pass me by down the bread aisle at the grocer’s; I know I tend to loaf. 

I’m a patient guy. But I’ll confess that every now and then I find my dander getting up for one reason or another, and when that happens, I put on grumpy pants. I inherited them from my father. On those rare occasions when he would get angry, he needed trousers that would stretch and cling at the same time, as he was wont to jump right out of those britches if he got all truly riled up over something.

One day, for instance, our toilet took to overflowing, but not always. It was unpredictable. It would flush fine one time, and the next it wouldn’t, causing the water to pour out onto the floor. He checked but couldn’t find a blockage, so finally, exasperated, he removed the toilet, took it out back, snaked it from the bottom with the garden hose and, voila, out popped my sister’s china toy tea cup. Dad became a human jackhammer, stomping on that cup until it was reduced to atomic bits. 

This past week found me needing to put on my own grumpy pants. It wasn’t anything major, just a lot of little things that were getting my proverbial goat. Becoming something of an old goat, it struck me more personally than it probably needed to.

First, there was a delivery scheduled to arrive the day before Easter. I had ordered the item ten days earlier, and it was coming by way of an express delivery service, but without a need to rush. I was excited; it was a gift for the missus and was to be a surprise for Easter dinner. On delivery-date Saturday, the Express truck pulled up in front of the house and sat there for about five minutes, then drove off. Apparently the driver had forgotten to load the package onto the truck that morning; the tracker system reset delivery to Monday. I absolutely positively will NOT trust that outfit for my shipping needs. Thus, I donned my grumpy pants.

Then early this week I needed to conduct some financial business online. I logged on, went to the page created for that purpose, and was directed to call a toll-free number. I called it and followed the automatic messages down the rabbit hole until finally the phone system sent me a link back to the web page from which I had embarked. The cell and web systems put me into an infinite loop. Not only was I wearing my grumpy pants; I’d pulled them up above my belly button!

Last night I wanted to visit one of our streaming services. I directed my voice activated remote to send us to the service which, for some reason, had forgotten who I am or was. It asked me to sign up or sign in. Actually, it didn't ask. It told me to. Unsurprisingly, that pushed one of my buttons. Televisions and cable boxes apparently have never heard of memorizing information, so I had to manually scroll across the fake keyboard punching in my email address and a password that contains a complex mix of numbers, letters alternating between upper and lower cases, and symbols (none of which was a gesture I really wanted to use). By the time I was readmitted to my streaming service, I was both steaming mad, and had pulled my grouchy pants up to my armpits.

Today, I have taken deep breaths; I have recited the Serenity Prayer; I have traded my grumpy pants, once again, for comfort clothes. If things happen in threes, I should be fine for a while. Meanwhile, my grumpy pants are available whenever I need them here in this, our valley. They still fit.

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)