Bird Habits

We put a new bird feeder out in our yard recently. It replaces a feeder we’ve had for years that’s mounted on a pole set in concrete. After all these years, the squirrels have discovered they can jump to the feeder from the fence. Since both the feeder and the fence are not easily moved, we decided to abandon that feeder completely and replace it with a feeder that will exclude squirrels by closing when a squirrel (or a heavy bird) sits on it.

Because we haven’t taken the old feeder down (remember, it’s set in concrete), the birds are not moving to the new feeder. I have watched for several days as birds continue to land on the old, empty feeder, looking for seeds where there aren’t any. I have watched nuthatches go around and around the feeder, checking every opening over and over again, looking for a seed, when a feeder full of seed is only a few feet away. They are having a hard time breaking their habit, and the result is they are not getting the food they want. They can see the new feeder from the old, but have not explored it because they are fixated on the old feeder.

A friend of mine often speaks of the insidiousness of habits. We get into certain patterns of life and end up going through them mindlessly. Certain habits are good, such as tooth-brushing, but often our habits numb us to possibilities for something different and better. Often, whatever discipline we take on for Lent, whether it is giving something up or taking on a new behavior, reminds us how habits can define us and control our lives. Sometimes, our Lenten discipline becomes a new habit, replacing a current habit with a more beneficial practice.

Isaiah 42:20 is a verse that speaks to the numbness that can come with habits:

You have seen many things, but don’t keep watch.

   With ears open, you don’t hear.

Even spiritual habits can become ineffective. We may go through the motions of morning devotions or Bible reading and find that Isaiah’s description fits us. We read but do not comprehend what we read, or we listen without absorbing what we are listening to. James describes this so well as he warns his readers not to simply go through the motions of discipleship: You must be doers of the word and not only hearers who mislead themselves. Those who hear but don’t so the word are like those who look at their faces in a mirror. They look at themselves, walk away, and immediately forget what they were like. (James 1:22-24)

Our habits can be the stumbling blocks to our growth in discipleship. Habits can strangle Christ right out of our lives if we fail to take stock of their influence over us. We can miss the ways Christ is at work in the world and prevent Christ from working in us when we are so committed to certain habits.

If Lent can be a time to break habits, we may discover new ways to experience God. God can only enter us through our broken places, and broken habits can open us to new ways of paying attention to God. We can shake off the numbness that habits can bring and see and hear how God is at work in the world and in our own lives in new and fresh ways. I don’t want to be like the nuthatch that keeps going around and around a place where there is no food. I want to be aware of God’s Spirit speaking to me. I want to see the opportunities for discipleship open all around me. Come Holy Spirit! Blow away the numbness of mindless habits and fill the space with You!

Roots and Fruits

The survivors of Judah’s family who have escaped will put down roots and bear fruit above. 

        Isaiah 37:31

Fruit does not come without good roots. The outward signs of discipleship result from putting down good roots in the love of Christ as Paul says in Ephesians 3:17-19:  I ask that Christ will live in your hearts through faith. As a result of having strong roots in love, I ask that you’ll have the power to grasp love’s width and length, height and depth, together with all believers. I ask that you’ll know the love of Christ that is beyond knowledge so that you will be filled entirely with the fullness of God.

If you have ever had a potted plant, whether a houseplant or a potted flower, vegetable or herb for your garden, you are familiar with root bound plants. When a plant cannot spread its roots because it is confined to a pot too small for it, the roots will grow more and more entangled. If the plant gets too root bound, it dies. Even if a root bound plant is planted where the roots can spread, the damage may already be too great to reverse. I have pulled up dead plants in my garden only to discover that the roots had never recovered from being root bound.  The problem with a root bound plant is that the damage is not visible from looking at the plant.

In the church, we often put more emphasis on the fruit than the roots. We encourage service, generosity and hospitality. We send people on mission trips and recruit greeters and feed and clothe the poor in our communities. We serve on church committees and teach Sunday school and sing in the choir. All these are fruits. But without a good root system, the fruits dry up due to burnout, or lose their sweetness due to resentment or become diseased and poisonous due to lack of faith. With little attention given to the roots, the fruits are no longer beneficial. Like a root bound plant, the damage may not be visible to the casual observer.

How much time do you give to reading the Word, praying the Word and living the Word? Does study of scripture and sacred texts happen for you on a daily basis at a regular time and place? Do you give your best attention each day to growing in intimacy with God, or is your attention haphazard and irregular?

When I hear people talk of being burned out on “church work,” I know that they have failed to attend to the roots. When I hear someone mispronounce a common Biblical name, it saddens me because they are missing out on the joys of familiarity with God through the scripture. When I see church leaders anxious and fearful, I sense that their roots are shallow and weak.

In many churches, much time is spent talking about how to increase numbers of members and contributions. We look at fruit, but we fail to devote attention to the roots. We talk more about evangelism and relevance than we do about spiritual formation, which is how our roots are made strong. We give our attention to doing rather than being, falling headlong into our Western belief that productivity is king.

The church will continue to suffer as long as its members focus only on fruit. Passion for God can be ignited through service, but it cannot survive without becoming rooted, which is the work of spiritual formation. It is the heart, our passion for Christ, which produces healthy, fruitful service. When Christ is everything to us, then fruit cannot be restrained.

Shrine-Builder or Disciple?

This past Sunday we celebrated Transfiguration Sunday, where Jesus was transformed on the mountain. Here is the passage from Luke’s Gospel: About eight days after Jesus said these things, he took Peter, John, and James, and went up on a mountain to pray. As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed and his clothes flashed white like lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, were talking with him. They were clothed with heavenly splendor and spoke about Jesus’ departure, which he would achieve in Jerusalem. Peter and those with him were almost overcome by sleep, but they managed to stay awake and saw his glory as well as the two men with him.

As the two men were about to leave Jesus, Peter said to him, “Master, it’s good that we’re here. We should construct three shrines: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”—but he didn’t know what he was saying. Peter was still speaking when a cloud overshadowed them. As they entered the cloud, they were overcome with awe.

Then a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, my chosen one. Listen to him!” Even as the voice spoke, Jesus was found alone. They were speechless and at the time told no one what they had seen.  Luke 9:28-36

Peter wants to build shrines to commemorate the event. We would rather construct something to signify our relationship with Jesus than to listen to him. Listening compels us to choose to follow and obey or to turn away and ignore. We don’t really want to do either, for the first requires that we remove ourselves from the throne and put Christ there, and the second makes us feel like bad people, and we don’t want to acknowledge that about ourselves.

So, left with two unappealing choices, we, like Peter, opt for a third choice—let’s build something. As we build a shrine, others will know that we’ve been with Jesus, that we are insiders. We can avoid either obedience or outright rejection of Christ by doing something, by building a shrine. Some of us build a shrine by charitable service—feeding and clothing those less fortunate than ourselves. Some build a shrine by serving on church committees, giving long hours to administrative acts for the church. There are many way we build shrines, shrines that keep us from having to listen to Jesus or reject him.

Certainly it’s not a bad thing to help others. Jesus helped others, but his first priority was obedience to God. He listened to God, and then acted out of the intimacy of his relationship with God. We build shrines when we act without listening, when we act to make ourselves look and feel good, when we avoid committing ourselves to developing an intimate relationship with Christ.

I build a shrine when I am resentful of how my service is received by others, or when I demand my own way in the church or when I withhold resources from the Kingdom because I don’t like that the church is not doing things my way. Shrine building occurs whenever we grumble and back-bite and undermine another, whenever we slay another by our words, forgetting that the target of our displeasure and venom is a child of God and loved by God.

When our service doesn’t flow from first listening to and obeying Christ, we are simply building shrines. And, ironically, the shrine isn’t built to glorify God, but ourselves. The shrine tells others that we were here and we did something special “for God.”

God isn’t into shrine-building. What God wants is for us to listen to Jesus, and then, obey. Love the enemy, give without reservation, love God and love neighbor. Die to self. Die to self-interest. Die to self-preservation. Die to self-promotion. For either we die, or we suppress the life of Christ in us. There is not room for both me and Christ. I must die so Christ can live in me. That then is my transfiguration.

Good Food

“Don’t work for the food that doesn’t last but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Human One will give you.”   John 6:27a

In A Place at the Table, Chris Seay says that he spends a lot of time thinking about what he will eat each day. I can make the same observation about myself. I give a lot of time and attention to what I will eat, from planning menus to clipping coupons to shopping and cooking and looking for new recipes. I don’t know how much time I spend pursuing food that doesn’t last (and I’m not just talking about what I eat, but all the impermanent stuff I do), compared to the time than I spend eating the Word of God, praying the Word and living the Word. How much of what consumes my time, energy and resources is superfluous?

So much of what commands our time and attention is the equivalent of “empty calories.” It is living a life that is driven by desire instead of intention. Living according to desire or craving leaves me hungry and unsatisfied, looking for more and rewiring my brain to think that I need and deserve more to be happy. We want something so we “sacrifice” and work to get it, or we go into debt to get it. But do we sacrifice and work for greater intimacy with Christ or do we expect we’ll get all we need from God by our weekly attendance at worship, occasional almsgiving and some service to others when it is convenient with our schedule?

When Cain and Abel brought gifts to God, the reason Abel’s gift was accepted was that it was the best of what he had. Cain’s gift was what he had available. Does God get my first and best time, attention and resources, or do I fit God into my already crowded schedule and checkbook, and then, only after I’ve committed my time and resources to what I want to do or purchase?

There is a certain automobile ad that has been running lately that uses the slogan, “Someday your life will flash before your eyes. Make it worth watching.” It shows a couple traveling to exotic destinations, eating at fine restaurants, walking on a red carpet, and other similar activities. Such is a life lived for desire, pursuing food that doesn’t last. A life lived with the intention to grow more intimate with God will not have the patience or interest for such desire-driven pastimes. When you’ve tasted the joy and peace that comes from growing intimacy with Christ, you cannot be satisfied with the empty calories of desire-based living.

Saint Augustine speaks of food that lasts in this quote: You called, you cried, you shattered my deafness. You sparkled, you blazed, you drove away my blindness. You shed your fragrance, and I drew in my breath, and I pant for you. I tasted and now I hunger and thirst. You touched me, and now I burn with longing for your peace.

Burning, panting, hungering for God, an all-consuming longing that makes one ache out of love and desire for God—that is not something you fit into your schedule. It is what you build your whole life around. It is the food that endures for eternal life.

Extending Compassion

I’ve been prayerfully reading through Isaiah for several months now. Recently I read these verses:

The land mourned; it wasted away;

   Lebanon was ashamed; it withered.

Sharon became like the desert,

   and Bashan and Carmel were dropping their leaves.   

                                                                                                Isaiah 33:9

The lack of care for humanity extends to the land as well, according to Isaiah’s prophecy. That makes sense, for how can true compassion be compartmentalized? How can you love one and not another? How can you care for people and not for animals or vice versa? Psalm 36:6 says: Your righteousness is like the strongest mountains; your justice is like the deepest sea. Lord, you save both humans and animals. How can you value the earth and not its residents? How do you love God and mutilate God’s creation?

Purposely and accidentally we have shielded ourselves from the consequences of our choices. We don’t always know the effects of our lifestyle and when we do know, we sometimes objectify the suffering we cause, as if that somehow makes it okay. When we label people as different from us (by sex, race, religion, age, lifestyle, etc.) we can justify our actions against them. When we objectify a person with a label, then we no longer see him or her as a child of God. When we commoditize flora and fauna, we lose sight of the care God took to create it and of the delicate balance of interconnectedness that we were charged to preserve. Our careless, self-important attitude leaves no quarter for true compassion or for the fullness of God’s love to flow through us for the benefit of a hurting world.

Who of us is not guilty? When we use electricity, someone’s nature is destroyed. Our mindless food choices means people and animals and land are often exploited and abused. When we push for cheaper products, the poor person in another country suffers for our benefit. The recent garment factory fire in Bangladesh should cause us to require accountability for the clothing we purchase. Our unwillingness to consider the consequences of our actions causes others to suffer and breaks God’s heart.

We may hide behind the notion that we are “good people,” but the suffering of lives that intersect with ours, if we stop to think about the reach of our choices, tells a different story. We are sinful people, and to glibly claim forgiveness continues to keep us skating on the surface of compassion, avoiding the deep woundedness that our lifestyle choices perpetuate. Ezekiel’s prophecy against the leaders of his day could be spoken to us in first world America: Doom to Israel’s shepherds who tended themselves! Shouldn’t shepherds tend the flock? You drink the milk, you wear the wool, and you slaughter the fat animals, but you don’t tend the flock. You don’t strengthen the weak, heal the sick, bind up the injured, bring back the strays, or seek out the lost; but instead you use force to rule them with injustice. (Ezekiel 34:2b-4).

Until we cut through the calloused layer created by our limited vision, we cannot deeply know our forgiveness, for true forgiveness has to result in a changed life, a changed heart, a heart that knows that God lives in every person, every animal, every natural resource, every created thing. When we truly know that, we cannot help living differently. Until we know that, we crucify God time and time again by not honoring what God created and loves.

Lord God, creator of all that is, seen and unseen, help me to see you in every part of creation—people, animals, plants, and all else you created. Help me to live mindfully, making whatever choices I can to preserve your life in the world. Where I continue to crucify you by the lifestyle choices I cannot easily overcome, give me wisdom and prudence to lessen my dependence on these choices, a voice to speak out for changes, and courage and faith when such changes seem insurmountable. Give me a compassionate heart, even though I know that by asking for this, I am also asking for the ability to shoulder the pain and suffering of your creation, which is your pain and suffering. Give me the courage to carry your cross, which is carried daily by the poor and the exploited of all creation. Amen.

Yogurt Evangelism

A couple of years ago a friend of mine told me how to make my own yogurt. I don’t know how many people I’ve shared the recipe with. People are always amazed at how easy it is to make, and marvel at the process and the finished product. Even busy people can find time to make it, and while they may be skeptical at first, they all become believers once they try it.

I sometimes feel as though I’ve become something of a yogurt evangelist, telling others the good news that yogurt can be made easily and inexpensively. My experience with yogurt bears much similarity to the way I believe our faith is spread to others.

First of all, it’s based on personal experience. While we’ve all heard stories of mass conversions at conferences and revivals, I often wonder how well such conversions actually stick once the euphoria of the mountaintop is gone, and life returns to the nitty-gritty valley. I might have found the directions for making yogurt online, but without someone else’s personal experience to back it up, I likely would not have tried it. While the energy of a large group might propel me to try something new, let me get away from that setting and doubts and insecurities may creep in and prevent me from doing what I intended to do. But let me see the spark in another’s eyes, someone I know and respect, and I am more likely to follow through on my intentions, especially knowing that I can call that person for help when my enthusiasm wanes or I doubt my ability to persevere.

Second, it doesn’t require any fancy equipment or training. Making yogurt at home requires only a crock pot. Sharing your faith with others only requires that you tell what you know. You don’t need a tract or a script, you only need relationships—a relationship with God and a relationship with another person. But while that sounds simple, it isn’t easy to build authentic relationship with God or with others. Both take time and attention, the willingness and ability to listen, and the desire to put the relationship ahead of your own agenda. Making yogurt is simple, but it does require time and attention. Like relationships, it isn’t an instant process. In both relationships and yogurt-making, you must pace yourself. In either case, the process cannot be rushed.

Finally, things will not always go as you hope they will. I’ve had batches of yogurt fail, and I’ve had relationships with others become strained. My relationship with God has times of doubt and uncertainty. When my yogurt fails, I salvage it as best I can, because I don’t want to waste what I’ve worked to make. If I cannot salvage it, I at least try to learn from the failure, so I won’t repeat it. In my relationships with others, I ask forgiveness, I seek to understand where I failed and change, and always, I try to learn from the experience. In my relationship with God, I know that the failure is not God, but me. I ask for forgiveness and accept that I am forgiven and loved.

Making my own yogurt has changed what I spend on groceries because making it at home is more economical than buying it. My relationship with God has changed my life. The time I’ve devoted to developing a relationship with God has helped me to fall in love with God. Being in love with God increases my love for others. As I grow in my love for others, evangelism just naturally happens. 

Waiting and Preparation

We have just come through Advent, a season of waiting and preparation for the birth of Jesus. Soon we will be in the season of Lent, the season of preparation for Easter. Waiting and preparation permeate not only the Christian calendar, but also our lives.

Biblical examples of waiting can encourage us in our own waiting.

• Abraham and Sarah waited until he was 99 years old for the son God promised them.
• The Israelites waited forty years to enter the Promised Land.
• Elizabeth and Zechariah waited years to have a son.

These are just a few examples. I am sure you can think of more.

Waiting is not always a welcome activity. However, waiting provides time for preparation. Waiting changes us.

Early in 2005, I began to be restless. I had worked hard to build an accounting practice. I had amazing employees and loyal clients. Our firm had achieved local and statewide recognition, earning numerous awards. Life was good. But after returning from a mission trip to New Orleans four months after Hurricane Katrina, I was berated by an angry client because I had been out of the office after Christmas and was unavailable to meet with him for year-end tax planning. Having just spent a week working with a family that lost all their material possessions and yet witnessed to our team because of their faith and peace, I was stunned at the reaction of this man who blamed me for the predicament caused by his own procrastination. I began to ask myself, “Is this how I am to serve God?” After months of prayer and listening and waiting, I sold my accounting practice, thinking that I would focus on helping small business owners develop practices to run their businesses more effectively and thus improve their emotional well-being.

I learned that God’s ways are different than my ways (Isaiah 55:8-9). My plans were stymied, and instead, I was given the gift of Sabbath (although at the time it didn’t feel like a gift). Out of that Sabbath, a book was born, and doors opened for me to share God’s work in me with a wider audience. Instead of speaking to business audiences about time management and business development, I was sharing about God and God’s living word.

I sensed God calling me to a ministry of spiritual direction, to walk with others through their questions and experiences of God. Participating in the 2-Year Academy for Spiritual Formation and the Spiritual Direction program at Perkins School of Theology, I have experienced the affirmation of that call. During this time of preparation and waiting, I put my accounting skills to work for a nonprofit organization. The stability of a regular income allowed me to pay for my studies and the flexibility of my work schedule allowed me to continue writing and presenting programs for various groups.

But during Advent, I realized it was time to devote myself fully to this call of God on my life. I’ve left my job, fully committed to the path God has placed in front of me. The waiting is over and I am beginning a new chapter in my journey of discipleship. Thanks be to God!