Category: Christianity

For the love of God, get it together, people

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Jesus must be so annoyed, y’all

Collectively, as of late, we Christians have sat silently, not wanting to offend or get too political. And here we are. We are beyond political. We are making moral kingdom decisions every moment we are not helping our neighbor. And who is your neighbor, you ask? If you spent five minutes looking at the gospel, you’d know. And once you know, you can’t un-know.

Jesus the Christ flouted the rules and the expectations of the most pious. He didn’t care about offending anyone. He spent time with the poorest of the poor. He fed the hungry. He provided free healthcare, he invited the little children to come to him. He took a nap on a rock…all while being a brown immigrant. He did not care about man-made borders, or whether or not you are comfortable in your complacency. He calls us away from that. We need to love radically and without regard to which side of an imaginary border you were born on, what color your skin is, who you love, or even what you believe.

Christians are not a law & order people. We never have been. Early Christians were ILLEGAL. They risked life and limb going against the state to follow Jesus the Christ – that’s where the fish symbol came from, a secret message scrawled in the dirt to identify each other. Jesus was in trouble for not washing his hands according to the law, and for working on the Sabbath…also against the law.

This is part of our story – and I for one am proud of it: Love has always trumped the law of the land. How have we forgotten this??

For too long, we happy-go-lucky church folk have allowed our beloved scriptures to be co-opted, hijacked and perverted by selfish leaders, false prophets, and crooked statesmen to further their own repugnant agendas. How do we know they are wrong? Because someone is always hurt by their policies. Period.

And here we sit, not wanting to offend or get political.

Our silence is deafening. If we don’t rise up and do something now, then we shouldn’t step back in the doors of a church, because we are there for the wrong reasons. Jesus called us to be in community – to care for one another and to care for the world.

A church is a body of people not a building. And these bodies were built for action, NOT complacency.

This is the time. We are being tested. What do you believe really, about the Jesus you proclaim?

When you think back to the scene at Calvary….what would you have done When Jesus was carrying his own timber cross? Would you be casting lots to take his possessions? Would you have been yelling “Crucify him!”?

Your actions today, tell you exactly where you would have been that day.

ode to a pastor on Easter

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Being married to a pastor, and working at the church myself, has caused Easter to be thrust into the forefront of our consciousness. Big time. The church calendar is built around it, and thusly, so is ours.

If you’re in some form of Christian ministry role – whether you sing in the choir or set out the coffee or give the big sermon –you might be doing your stretches, and warming up the old pipes tonight. You’ve been thinking about Easter for weeks, nay, months. If you’re a Presbyterian, you get to wear the white stole, and pack away purple for a few months. You’ve spent the week guiding people through the darkness in anticipation of the light. Hopeully you’ve said, “It’s Friday…but Sunday’s comin’” because that is fun to say.

Maybe you’re on for the sunrise service and heading off to bed. Maybe you’re trying to find someone to be a parking volunteer, or a last minute replacement for a sick usher. The bulletin’s done, and the sanctuary is clean. You know that you’ll see people tomorrow you’ve never seen before, and you’ll likely never see again. I don’t know how you guys on the chancel do it on the regular Sundays – you get up there and you’re funny and warm and engaging and eloquent (I’m looking at you Johnny!) You don’t break into a sweat with all of those people staring at you.

And then there’s Easter. The place is packed, and everybody is like, really staring at you. They’re uncomfortable in their itchy outfits and tight shoes. They’re ready to hear what might be a very familiar story in a new way, but it can’t be too out there, or you’ve ruined Easter. No pressure.

It doesn’t matter how many people are sitting in your seats. It’s not their butts you’re interested in, but their hearts, right? Tomorrow, you’re busy, yes, and you’re the one everyone is looking at. But don’t stress, because if all goes as it should, you’re not the one everyone is thinking about.

Happy Easter. Sunday’s comin’! Enjoy your nap.

while we wait

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This Christmas tree is so distracting. It’s getting in the way of my desire to do laundry and catch up on chores. I’m having a harder time enforcing bedtime, and snapping orders like “wash your hands!” to whichever grubby little dude is running by me that moment. It’s so festive, and it makes me want to drink hot chocolate and wear a sweater and hug everybody.

Even this week, when things were hectic at work and I STILL did not get a chance to buy stamps, there it was twinkling from the window, like it had been looking down the street waiting for me to come home…tall and sparkly, pretty and happy. It’s close enough to the computer that when I sit down to return emails, or figure out what I want to write about, I usually end up turned in my seat gazing into my fun house mirror reflection on one of the shiny red ornaments. And then of course, I wince when I realize Jacob does this, and I tell him to turn around and focus.

Sure, I appreciate it’s beauty and cheeriness, but right now I can also point at it, and say “Look at that! It’s done. I got something done!” A major accomplishment during a time where I feel like I’m spinning in circles at work and at home, all while fussing and fretting, and talking about how busy I am. Of course, I’m busy, who isn’t? It’s near impossible to find someone who’s not overcommitted or stressed out or even a little grumpy. I’m never grumpier though, than when I run across that person who’s been “done” for a month thanks to the wonders of forethought and online shopping. They’re the worst.

John pointed out that even when you’re a kid, you cannot fully relax until you’ve checked something off your list: face time with Santa. Because up until you talk to him directly, you’re really not too sure if your request has been noted or lost out there in the ether. So yesterday, we sucked it up and went to see Santa to help Zach with his to-do list.

Jake did not want to see Santa. He’s 10 now and has that shag haircut. He reminded me that I promised him last year he wouldn’t have to go again, even if it was just to support his little brother. But there he stood, relatively without complaint, the tallest kid in line and with only the promise of Mongolian BBQ at the end.

The “elf” in the apron who made us very well aware that she hated working evenings and that it was almost time for her break, looked at us like we were nuts for turning down a photo package. This isn’t my first time at the rodeo, you know, I wanted to tell her. We were there on a mission, get in, tell Santa about the “Star Wars book with Luke in it,” and get out – check it off the list. At our mall, right before you get to Santa, you enter a huge snowglobe that, yes, snows on you. The kids go bananas. Laying in it, running their fingers through it and rubbing as much as they can into their hair. One girl even stood under the blower with her mouth open. It took us a minute to remember that this is not in fact, snow. It’s billions of flakes of plastic, possibly asbestos, but certainly not snow. It does not adorably melt out of your hair. It does not taste like the purest glacier water on the planet.

I pull Zachary over to me, and we start working the flakes from his hair and his all-black outfit, including his favorite shirt of all time which is the reason we had to keep him calm – the official World Champion San Francisco Giants, Buster Posey, #28 shirt. Of course, now I see the that this stuff is falling on me too, and I try ducking my head out of the way like I’m being attacked by bees. It’s in all of our hair, but the kid in line behind us is still rolling around in it. I use myself as a human shield between him and Zach when the kid starts yelling “snowball fight snowball fight snowball fight snowball fight!” I dodge and block and duck and swipe, while John shakes his head at me…“You and nature,” he says with a sigh. Now I could have corrected him here, and reminded him that we were still at the mall and not on the frozen tundra, but that wouldn’t have done any good, because this is pretty much exactly what I am like in nature too.

We take our turn sitting on the royal snow palace throne, and when the family who is purchasing 3 separate photo packages is finally done, Santa calls us all over, much to Jake’s chagrin. He high-fives us and asks what we want. When it’s my turn, I lamely point at a sweater in Macy’s window across the way, and we say our goodbyes. Zach looks up at me panicked, and runs back to Santa. “Wait!!”

Santa peeks over the top of his spectacles, “Yeeeesss?”

“What my mom really wants is Twilight: Eclipse on blu-ray.”

“I heard it’s good,” Santa says looking at me, as I slink away, tugging Zach behind me.

Then I realize, as we often do and sometimes too late – this is it. Right here, right now. I will remember this hour of standing in line with the three boys, chatting and dodging that horrific flakey snow, and Zach advocating on my behalf to Santa, much longer than I will remember a fleeting moment of satisfaction from having accomplished something. Why on Earth, would I want this to be done?

We’re reminded from the pulpit on Sundays that Advent is a time of waiting, preparation, and anticipation. But I don’t think it’s the kind of preparation we’re used to – we share this space with other flustered people and their lists and stressers. What if we stopped focusing on the lists, and enjoyed the part where we’re sharing the space with people who love us, or people who need us. This is the part where we really get to help each other…during the waiting that can otherwise seem like such a chore. I don’t need another 17 days ‘til I can care about you, I’d like to enjoy you right now, while we wait.

Big News Week

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Zimbabwe’s far. My mission pastor hubby John has once again made the 30-hour trek, this time with a planeful of energetic, ready-to-change-the-world teenagers and some pretty cool ready-to-change-the-world adults.

Relieving the sting of his absence, my friend Megan and her baby have flown out from New Mexico to hang with us. The baby is darling and has my boys enraptured with his little face, little hands and little Nikes. Having another mom on hand is of course, a Godsend. She has unending energy and instinctively bends down to tie a shoe, reaches out to hold a hand, jumps in to cook dinner, gives the mom-style laser eyes when mine are tired, and has been trying to help me figure out why the airbed keeps deflating and swallowing Jacob in the night. Megan’s a pastor’s wife too, and has been a source of comfort and understanding through both of our families’ wacky and fun-filled transitions into ministry.

Last night, with the boys tucked in, we watched Strictly Ballroom, and then she sat patiently while I tried to talk her into watching Twilight with me, which she won’t. Though we don’t have Masters of Divinity degrees like our husbands who were seminary classmates (and have apparently mastered divinity), we still find ourselves casually chatting about church polity and theology while sitting on the couch in our pajamas. If you can’t watch Twilight, theology and polity are the next logical choices.

And there’s been a lot to talk about. This last week or so, churchy news has made it into mainstream media something fierce. First Anne Rice denounces Christianity by way of Facebook, which if you are going to publicly and erroneously accuse an entire group of being hate mongers, Facebook is the way to go. And then there’s the big piece in the New York Times on clergy burnout which got all of the clergy types’ collective undergarments in a bunch. OK yuk, nobody wants to talk about clergy undergarments.

Now when this stuff comes out, there are countless platforms and forums and venues where we can virtually all jump in and talk at once. My instinct is to argue & defend when I feel wronged, and then reason & explain (which I’ve done this week), but that’s exhausting. It only goes so far, and in the end, just adds to the noise. Instead, it seems like a better idea to just let people know that right now, at this very moment, there are bright, talented, dedicated teenagers who are spending the last days of their summer thousands of miles away from home, carrying bricks, building pre-schools, and passing out shoes. As John very eloquently says, these are the kids who, in a blink, are going to be doctors, policymakers and world leaders. They’re bypassing the noisemakers – stepping out in faith and taking their big hearts, bright smiles and beautiful souls into the world to do something and show some love.  And not even Anne Rice can argue with that.

WTF: Why the Fulcrum?

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Truly, it’s a miracle to be here. And I don’t mean that in any philosophical way. Getting this blog thing set up just about did me in. By the time I will actually get this posted, if in fact, I do, I will have ignored my children, stomped around the house growling, delayed cooking dinner and questioned whatever small dose of techie acumen I thought I had, as well as any qualifications that would allow me to even think about having a blog in the first place.

Thanks for coming.

Well, let’s start with the ridiculous title: The Fulcrum Chronicles. Again, I’d like to underscore the extent to which I do not enjoy being overly philosophical about anything. It’s obnoxious. However, I do think about faith, and God, and church…..a lot. I kind of have to. I’m a pastor’s wife, and a ministry director at our church (oddly, not my childhood goal).

 I’m not an engineer type, but I keep coming back to the idea of the teeter totter & the fulcrum. Life moves you in both directions, but the thing that keeps you in motion is that one ever – important point – the fulcrum. I like to think that’s where God is….encouraging you to kick off really hard with your feet when you hit the ground, and then celebrate with a whoop when you reach the sky. I also like to think that God would kindly re-direct the big mean kid on the other end of the teeter totter who keeps you trapped on your end with your feet dangling. In my imagination, it’s a scratchy pencil-drawn kid, and a pencil drawn teeter totter, and I have freckles and a bow in my hair, but that’s beside the point. You can picture how faith and God keep you balanced/centered/grounded – or not – in your own way. A beautiful bird? A sturdy boulder? A mighty oak? I don’t know what that would signify – it’s your visualization technique.

 The Chronicles part. Well, my kids (there are two) and husband (one of those) are really funny. My career choice, and our life choice – or calling, as they say in the biz -lends itself to wacky misadventures, an eclectic collection of friends, poignant moments, and instances where you’re ready to altogether give up on humans. So I’ll probably write about that stuff…to the extent where I won’t actually be outing anyone specific as being a jerk.

So that’s it for now. Fingers crossed, and a little prayer that this works, that it posts without incident and that I won’t have to break out my own personal brand of swearing that makes my kids laugh. “Jimminy Christmas!!” happens to be their favorite. (The thing is, I am REALLY mad & frustrated when I say that stuff – so the tone &  fury with which it comes out is actually super-, I think, -offensive, but nobody else does, which is almost, well, offensive.