Suffering with Patience: The Individual

"Is that it?"

As I let go of her hand and lifted my head, I noticed again her leather-like face.  It was now crunched in a grimace of gentle disappointment, and with a somewhat polite pity she said, "Let me do it."

And as she proceeded to pray for me, I immediately knew that Christ was somehow present.  Her words surely would have failed the Systematic Theology classes I've taken, but her belief that God was listening was as palpable as the smell of alcohol on her breath.  

This was about eight years ago.  I've not forgotten the moment, and I often still try to exegete it.  In that moment when I was to be Christ, I instead met him.  And I didn't expect it.  

The short prayer I offered as a means to encourage this homeless woman, though offered sincerely and hopefully, was nothing more than an incantational attempt to make her feel better, to show her that I believed in a God that I believed could help her.  And I did (and do!) believe that.  

Since then however, I've read Matthew 25:31-46 (the separation of the sheep and goats) seemingly countless times.  And I've had other similar encounters as the one with this homeless woman, encounters in which I've been surprised by the presence of Christ...when I was supposed to be the one "presenting" him to others.

While I was growing up, this passage in Matthew was a warning to me that if I didn't help people in need, I was bound for eternal damnation.  But when I began to consider all the personal pronouns in that last sentence, I had to conclude that I was missing the point of Christ in this account.

The passage is about incarnation, and more specifically, compassion.  But it's not your KJV-have-pity compassion.  It's the literal "suffering with"-compassion.  Generally, our society understands compassion as that charitable thing we have for people in need.  But a biblical Christlike notion of compassion is the one that steps down from above to suffer alongside the ones in need.  While fulfilling the need (hunger, nakedness, loneliness) may happen, it is but a bi-product of identifying with the need.

To have compassion is to take the place of the seat next to the one who is suffering, not the seat above him.  

We can see this in the incarnation of God.  We've recently come through Advent & Christmas.  Advent - the coming of the Lord to be present with and dwelling amongst humanity in Christ.  But what we know as those who follow him today is that our lives chase after his own footprints  - we are to be today the presence of Christ in the world.

...which makes Matthew 25 so difficult for me.  If I am the presence of Christ to others, then how on earth could he say that when we do to "the least of these," we unknowingly do to him?  The problem with seeking to help those in need to fulfill a "call," a "mission," or even responsibility is that...well...it should be more than just ful-filling.  In fact, what we find in identifying with need is that it's so often requires quite the opposite - emptying.

Indeed, we are to be today the presence of Christ in the world...as he was in the world: he, who was God, but emptied himself of all that (Phil. 2).

But the wonder of it all is that it ends in new life...in life coming out of that which was dead.  This is the hope of compassion - that when we descend from our lofty places and positions to take up residence with "the least of these," we all together might be raised up to new life.  It's what Christ did.

So while compassion leads to change and improvement in the world, it is not in and of itself change.  If my compassion is meant to change or fix the world around me, it is not compassion.  It might be charity.  But it is not compassion. In fact, if anything changes because of seeking to go and suffer alongside those who are in need, we'll find that the change happens in us.  Compassion does indeed change the world...but it begins by changing me.

Again, we see it in the life of Christ.  For sure, God came into the world to "solve a problem."  But the first thirty years or so were spent living amongst and identifying with those who were in need.  This was the first part of his incarnational and compassionate ministry.  And it's an endeavor that requires a lot patience.  

And isn't that the way the Body of Christ is to work anyway: each part crucial to resonating with the leading of the head, that is Christ himself?  Paul tells us in I Corinthians 12 that we clothe "the least" of these with greater honor.  We might suppose that it's because what we do to the least of all, we do to Christ himself.

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This was the first installment of a submission for an article on compassion that I wrote in 2009.  Here is the second part.

Common Cathedral

Yesterday some of us from North Street went into the Boston Common to join in with the "Common Cathedral," the worship gathering of Ecclesia Ministries.  In short, Ecclesia Ministries is a church for anyone, but it's a church for the homeless of Boston.  Yesterday, I'd estimate that there were some 50 people who participated in some way, and probably 30-40 of those were homeless or mentally challenged. I had first heard of this gathering of the Table a while back, but determined to join in at some point after reading about it in Bryan Stone's book, Evangelism After Christendom.

This summer, The Remembrance is taking a different schedule, intentionally trying to gather around the Table in atmospheres and situations out of our own understanding and experience (including several times gathering with others).  So we invited the whole church to come in for this gathering.  There were but a handful of us (12).

The experience was as described: like none other than I'd experienced elsewhere.  You can picture it: a group of several dozen (many coming and going at any point) gathered in a sorry circle just in front of the fountain beside the Park Street T Station, with thousands of others on the Common at the same time for all sorts of activities on this beautiful Sunday afternoon.   There were details that I had read about:

• People walked right through our circle, hardly noticing or caring that we were actually doing something.  (One group of three passed just behind me, and I could audibly hear them mock one of the priests as she talked.)
• It was quite appropriate that we went on Pentecost Sunday, because there was a number of elements that resonated with that first Christian Pentecost in Acts 2: some indeed appeared to be drunk (and some probably were); there was a certain "order" of chaos (it was obvious that if anything/anyone was in control is wasn't us, one of the priests, or anything but God); I could not understand much of what was being said...yet there was an understanding that when someone was speaking, it was a precious and important thing being said.
• A wonderful gentleman played what I think was a mandolin and brought a small box of rhythm instruments for others to play.  You will hear much more trained musicians elsewhere, but you may not see such passionate singers in many other places.  We sang well-known songs: Kumbaya, We Shall Overcome, Holy Ground, etc.

And then there were a few things that I didn't expect, but were of note and impacted my experience:

• During the Prayers of the People, one gentleman walked right through the center of the circle, pulled out a dollar bill, and bought a cigarette from another man.  I tried to imagine this exchange in our services of communion.  One of the obvious goals of Ecclesia Ministries is to very publicly declare to the world that the Table is open to all...wherever they may be at: addicted, confused, sick, misunderstood, broken.  I greatly appreciate this...it's how Christ first invited to the Table (Judas the Betrayer, James & John the Power-Mongers, Peter the Denier, Thomas the Doubter).
• As we were about to begin receiving the Eucharist, it was obvious that one of the gentlemen in our circle was in need of medical attention.  There were several times that the two priests had to rely upon one another to juggle responsibilities of the service as the other took care of some other need (someone speaking angrily or "too" loudly, etc.).  But this situation was the most obvious.  We actually had to pause what we were doing as they called 911, the Boston Fire & EMS showed up (ever seen an ambulance drive up right next to the Table of Communion?), and carted the man away.  It was my first time there, but I wondered how often this occurs.  :-)
• During the Eucharist, one of the priests left the circle with the bread to offer to others outside our circle, even if it may have been obvious that they would refuse.  She wasn't pushy - she moved on if it was refused - but the way she offered it even to those who hadn't apparently come to be a part really impacted me.  I'm still processing it.

I'd like to go back again, with more from our church and to reinforce some of the experience to my kids.  I've tried very hard, but somehow the church is still a building to them, rather than the people who gather around Christ.  At one point, Brayden was talking rather loudly, which I don't mind per-say, but it was obvious that his attention wasn't on what was happening.  As I asked him to be a little quieter and to pay attention to what was going on because we were in church, he looked at me and said, "No, we're not!" with a look of confusion on his face.  It was a teaching moment, I suppose and we talked about it again later.

I'm glad for Ecclesia Ministries and their faithful response to fulfilling I Corinthians 12.

Wesleyan Art

My feelings on art and the Church resonate with Carole Baker and Leonard Sweet in the videos below ("bastions of boredom," funny...but also not).


Reclaiming The Material Gifts from The Work Of The People on Vimeo.


Len Sweet: Wack-A-Mole from The Work Of The People on Vimeo.

So I like and need art in a variety of forms and find it virtually absent in the Church today, and dangerously so. I find that the vast majority of what is labeled "Christian" art today is either:

1. not art (usually some pale copy/attempt at art, or worse yet, simply mass-produced for easy distribution);
2. doesn't speak to me (like southern gospel, 97% of CCM, Thomas Kincaid, etc.*);
3. or is dominated by reform theology (I love listening to Derek Webb and Shane & Shane, but they are unapologetically and wholeheartedly Calvinistic...frankly, so is much of contemporary worship music).

We know that much of what came out of the ministry through John Wesley was in great part due to his brother's music and lyricism. The argument might be made that Charles was more concerned about didache than music...but I might disagree. Charles seemed to understand that didache is best done through art.

So my question is this:
Where, who, what have you found these days that speaks to the soul that's saturated with Wesleyan-Arminian theology?

A couple of answers to my own question:

• The musical group Jars of Clay has always spoken to me...since I first heard their first album back in 1995. They were postmodern before most any in the Church new what the term meant. While not necessarily Wesleyan, I find that their lyricism is much different from most of the reformed-dominated nature of CCM.
• The visual liturgy site The Work of the People continues to slay me with their work. While not exclusively Wesleyan (in fact, quite often reformed**), they have been studying and highlighting Wesleyan-leaning theologians and artists more and more (like Leonard Sweet and Stanley Hauerwas).

Wow...my list is short. Perhaps I'll remember more later, but I basically want others' help. Anyone?

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*I'm really not trying to start a debate on southern gospel, Thomas Kincaid, or anything concerning contemporary worship music. Please don't make this post that. Focus on the bold question above.

**I'm also not dismissing reformed art, I listen to and view it all the time. I'm just looking for more Wesleyan.

"Braby" Parker Scott

So I haven't blogged much about our impending fourth child.  Meghan's due around October 31st.  I confess that this wasn't the easiest idea (another child!) at first.  I'll never forget when Meghan told me that she was pregnant.  I immediately said to her, "Um...I'm going to need a minute."

It has taken longer than a minute.

I thought we were done having children of our own.  Brayden was beginning school again, the girls were becoming more independent, and I was looking forward to giving more time and energy to North Street.  But the news gave my plan a "set back."  Of course I knew right away that I would love this child and that I would grow into the same feelings I had for my first three.  And I certainly have.  But to say that it was butterflies and smiles right away would be disingenuous.

Then the other day an overwhelming feeling of excitement and anticipation overcame me.  I can't wait for this guy, despite my uncertainty of how on earth we're going to live with four children.  It's not that our house is too small (it isn't, unless you're measuring by American standards).  It's more so that I have no clue how we're going to make it financially.  I'm praying and researching about this right now.

We still don't have a name for this poor guy!  It's odd.  With Brayden, Brenna, & Brooklyn, it was no trouble at all.  We had their names pretty well set early on.  But with this one, we're somewhat set in the whole "Br-" thing.  We're contemplating something else, but it really wouldn't make too much sense.  And other meaningful Br- names just aren't coming...

...well there is one that I like, but Meghan won't go for it.  I don't blame her.  But the more I read about the guy, the more I wouldn't mind one of my children being named after him.  Phineas F. Bresee is one of the founders of the Church of the Nazarene (his name is pronounced "Breh-ZEE".  Having been pretty much forced from the Methodist Episcopal Church, he founded the original Church of the Nazarene (not initially a denomination) based upon the notion that Christ's church should first and foremost be composed of the poor.  Not just that we should minister to the poor, but with the poor and as the poor.  Now it's pretty likely that this vision was very quickly compromised, and for sure the CotN is so so far from that founding vision, but nonetheless...Bresee was a challenging and formidable man.

Our first three each have a name after someone in our family or church history.  Brayden's middle name is "Wesley," which was my grandfather's middle name and certainly so after the great John Wesley.  Brooklyn's middle name is "Gwen" after Meghan's great aunt Gwendolyn Mann who was a long-time professor at Eastern Nazarene College and who had a profound impact on my mother in heading into education.  And Brenna's middle name is "Munro" after my great aunt, Helen Munro Lahmeyer who was named after Bertha Munro, long-time ENC professor and Nazarene saint.  So "Bresee" seems to fit...

But Meghan just can't do it.  And I understand, because while I like to read about the guy and know who he really was, he is most often in our denomination seen as a sort of "Mr. Nazarene"...which isn't necessarily our kind of thing.  But if we named our child after him, we could tell people what he was really like (as if I even really know...we all know that saints are made after death). 

Anyway, we're taking any and all suggestions.  It's 99% certain that his middle name will be "Parker," which is Meghan's maiden name.  We've jokingly thought about naming him "Bronald" since Meghan's dad's name is Ronald.  Then he'd be "Bronald Parker".  :-)  Just for fun, I've put a poll on the page to see if anyone has any input.

Anyway, his arrival is likely in two or three weeks.  Life will change yet again.  I can't wait. 

Remembering

I think one of the things that most greatly pains me about the Christian Church is the brokenness of her various parts. Often, the Church's voice speaks of the brokenness of the world. As well it should - the world needs some help. But the Church herself is broken and it pains me. And it pains many others who've pretty much given up on the Church. In great part, I can't blame them.

But at the same time, it's nothing new, is it? The people of God have quite often been a collective whore, selling themselves out to whatever the whims or ways of the world are at the time (monarchy or syncretism with Ba'al for Israel, tradition for the Pharisees, Christendom for the Catholic Church, politics for the evangelical Church, and so, so many more examples). But our faith and theology tell us that Christ, the bridegroom is faithful all the while. Do I get pissed off at the Church? For sure...but it's in these moments that the words of Christ (via lyricist Derek Webb) challenge me back: "If you love Me, you will love the Church." In part, we love not because of perfection, but because of potential.

More and more I'm understanding that this side of the Great Resurrection, the Church will continue her shameful ways. This is not to say that I will not strive to do what I can to speak prophetically and to love unconditionally. It's also not to say that we shouldn't strive together to be who we were made and created to be...together...as a people.  But I need to temper my emotions and read Jesus' prayer for his people in John 17 over and over and over again.

So when we began our Sunday evening gathering of communion at North Street, we called it "The Remembrance." There is a lot of intentionality behind the name.  It is a gathering around the table of communion and specifically not around the preached word.  The grace of the table abounds in multiple ways (ways that I'm still learning about and discovering).  But one way we receive the grace of God - that is, we understand who God wants us to be together - is that Christ told us to come together at the table "in remembrance of him."

For sure, this means the general notion of what it tell our children it means: "remember that Jesus died for you."  But it's way more than that. The Greek word here is "anamnesis": to recollect, indeed to remember.  But what does that mean?  To re-collect or to re-member is to put back together the things, the thoughts, or the parts of something.  So...at the table of communion, if we are, as Christ asked us to, doing it to re-member him, then each of us, who is a member, coming to the table is making a decision to put the Body of Christ (the Church!) back together.

So it's my hope that this is what happens at the Remembrance - that it's a symbol, a hope, a desire to right now put back together the Body of Christ.

The Work of the People, as they often do, have just put out a wonderful video.  In it, John Goldingay speaks to this notion of remembering.  He talks about how the Hebrew notion of "remembering" isn't just about the past.  To "remember" means to "be mindful of" (and thus, we can actually "remember" the future").  So to "forget" is to choose "not be mindful of."  (This might help for those who can't understand how God can "forget" sin...)

Give it a watch, and wrestle with me about this "re-membrance" of Christ's Body, the Church.