Renewal Works

Inquiring minds want to know. Who is good King Wenceslaus and what's so good about the guy?

Tip off: As you know from the opening line, his story takes place on the feast of St. Stephen (a.k.a., today) which Anglophiles will know as Boxing Day, which has nothing to do with Muhammad Ali or Rocky or Raging Bull. It is a day when servants were honored with gifts. Let's put that all together this Monday morning, the day after Christmas, and see what it says about living a life of faith.

Take them in chronological order. St. Stephen, whose story is told in the book of Acts (see a portion of it below) was the first martyr of the church, stoned to death by a mob, St. Paul on the sidelines holding coats for those who cast stones. I imagine St. Paul wished he could do that one over. But Stephen was also first among the deacons, selected by the church to take care of those who were overlooked, given a ministry to those who had been forgotten.

On Stephen's feast day, 10th century Bohemian Good King Wenceslaus went out when the snow lay round about, deep and thick and even. Here's the story the hymn tells. In snowy weather, Wenceslaus went to help a poor man, providing food for the hungry soul. Wenceslaus' page whines about how cold it is, so the King invites the page to follow in his footsteps through the drifts, in fulfillment of a legend referred to by a preacher in the 12th century:

But his deeds I think you know better than I could tell you; for, as is read in his Passion, no one doubts that, rising every night from his noble bed, with bare feet and only one chamberlain, he went around to God's churches and gave alms generously to widows, orphans, those in prison and afflicted by every difficulty, so much so that he was considered, not a prince, but the father of all the wretched.

Which brings us to Boxing Day, observed in the United Kingdom as a day to give gifts to servants, ostensibly domestics, busy on Christmas Day waiting on the 1%. It is a day to recognize those who serve, and perhaps most especially those who are somehow invisible.

I don't know how much St. Stephen and King Wenceslaus and Boxing Day are connected, but if they aren't, they ought to be. They remind us in this Christmas season (remember it's more than just one day) that Christ is met and known and loved in our encounters with the most vulnerable. Christ is met when we serve. Now more than ever, people of faith will have to look out for those in greatest need, nearby and far away. The Christmas story tells us as much. The starring characters in that story are those who were invisible to those in power. Shepherds on a hillside. Foreign magi. A refugee family looking for shelter. A baby born a king.

Take this day in the Christmas season to say a prayer for those in need, those most vulnerable. Think about those who are invisible, servants in our culture (those who pick up our garbage or recycling, those who wait on us in a restaurant, those who stand on the highway waving signs for post-Christmas sales, those poor souls on the front lines at customer service, those without homes, those whose political allegiances differ, those who watch different news channels, those confined and maybe forgotten in nursing facilities, those without homes or jobs, those who are quietly alone, etc.)

And maybe there's a way to be a servant like St. Stephen, or to bring warmth in the cold like the 10th century king, or to acknowledge the dignity of someone who serves quietly with a small gift of some sort. Maybe as small as a word of thanks.

My guess is that if you discover that way today, it will be the way of Jesus, and it will make your Christmas merry and bright.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you'd like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

Advent questions

I've been struck this year with the questions that pop up in the Advent season. I started thinking about this a couple Sundays ago when we read about John the Baptist in prison. He was no shrinking violet, never afraid to speak truth to power (which is what got him tossed in prison in the first place), never afraid to offend his listeners, addressing his congregation as a brood of vipers. Generally not recommended for preachers.

But earlier in Advent, we met him in a prison cell, maybe having second doubts about the choices he had made. I imagine him asking: Was this the cruise ship I signed up for? Was my call a wrong number? He sends messengers to Jesus (not sure how they did that in first century prisons) with this Advent question: Are you the one we've been waiting for or should we look for somebody else? (See Matthew 11 for a better telling of this story.)

Later this week, smack dab in the midst of wrapping Christmas presents and decking the halls with yuletide merriment, we observe the feast of St. Thomas, of doubting fame. He questioned whether Jesus was really raised from the dead. Maybe like John, he wondered as follower of Jesus if he had misplaced his hopes. (See John 20 for a better telling of this story.)
Maybe Thomas should be patron saint of Episcopalians, a denomination graced with a knack for savoring questions. If it's true what Frederick Buechner says, that doubt is the ants in the pants of faith, Episcopalians should have very lively faith.

As we move to the observance of Christmas, questions persist. Mary responds to the angel's announcement that she's going to have a baby: "How can this be?" Refugee parents ask: "Is there any room in the inn?" Magi from the east ask: "Where is the child whose star we have observed?" And some time in the next couple days, we may well all sing: "What child is this?"

So I'm wondering on this Monday morning in this last week of Advent about the questions you bring to Christmas. Maybe like John the Baptist, the limits, even confinements of your life make you wonder if there's hope to be had, a way out, a way forward. Maybe like Thomas you've been disappointed in faith, in the church, in people you trusted, making you wonder whether you can give your heart again. Maybe like Mary, you get a glimpse of the outrageous miracle that is Christmas and wonder: "Really? How can this be?"

In the mystery of our biblical tradition, these kinds of questions are welcomed, sometimes downright celebrated. (It would have been so easy to leave them out of the Bible.) It should be said that the questions are not meant as destination, but as catalysts moving us forward toward answers. And those answers do not come in argument. They do not come in theology or philosophy or recitation of creed. They do not come with some quick fix. The answer comes in the form of a person, a helpless, homeless infant actually, whose biblical nickname is Immanuel, which really means God with us.

So celebrate this week, family and fun and food and music and gifts, all of which orbit around that manger to which we bring ourselves, carrying all of our questions and placing them right there next to the gold, frankincense and myrrh.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you'd like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

Tune my heart

I have learned much from the teenagers of the congregation where I serve. They are a gift to me. One blessing comes with their music, quite specifically one version of an old time hymn they've brought to new life for me. The way they sing "Come thou fount of every blessing" has caused me to hear the text in new ways.

I was recently on a walk in the woods, replaying the hymn in my mind, recognizing that the whole hymn is really a prayer for renewal. (Hymn text below) I stopped on this phrase which I've sung a million times, but heard in a new way: "Tune my heart to sing thy grace."

It made me think about my heart, and not in a cardiologist kind of way. I thought about where I was giving my heart. Was I giving my heart to that which would satisfy my heart, borrowing a question from one of the desert fathers? Was my heart heavy? Distracted? In the imagery of the hymn, was it out of tune? If so, what caused that? And what could be done about that?

Any number of things can cause my heart to go out of tune. Like a musical instrument, a jarring movement can do it, the change and chances of life. Lack of use or exercise can do it. Atmospherics, turning up the heat, growing cold can do it. The affections, the spiritual inclinations that might be considered matters of the heart can be rendered dissonant by resentment, anxiety, boredom, a loss of hope. I confess that news of late has set my own heart out of tune. What's to be done?

Returning to the observation that this hymn text is a prayer, I suspect the first thing to say is that any tuning, adjusting, recalculating, comes as gift. It is God's work. So if my out of tune heart is going to be brought to a new place, it must be seen as God's holy work with which I am willing to cooperate, work to which I am open. Maybe I can't do the tuning. But I can ask to be an instrument of God's peace. Maybe I can't do the tuning. But experience tells me I could probably obstruct it if I was so inclined, or so clueless.

So what are the obstructions in my life? (How much time do you have?) How can I pay attention to the voice of John the Baptist this Advent and think about where I need to repent. Translation: where do I need to change direction, recalculate as Siri would describe it. One place in particular is in gratitude. I can stand to grow in that. Another is in having a heart oriented toward service, not towards what I'm due. Another growth opportunity.

Someone once told me that the best way to understand the mystery of prayer is that it is a matter of aligning our will with God's will. The call to alignment is just another way of describing the tuning of the heart. That can happen in confession, intercession, silence, song, thanksgiving, praise, service.

We find ourselves in the season of Advent, a time of preparation for the grand celebration of Christmas, good tidings of joy which shall be to all people. In many ways, Advent is a time to tune our hearts to sing the praises first shared with shepherds on that hillside. Take the quiet call of the season of Advent to listen to your heart. Is there a way in which it seems to be out of tune, slightly or significantly? Can you offer a prayer for God gracious activity to tune your heart to sing God's praise? Can you get specific, naming those things that contribute to dissonance and discordance?

Pray the hymn. Tune your heart. Sing God's grace.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you'd like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

"Prepare the way of the Lord."

That's the word from John the Baptist in the wilderness. It's the thing we're meant to do in Advent. But I'm wondering what that really looks like. It's different for each one of us. We each prepare the way in our own way.

Case in point: a priest I recently met who told me about his Sunday morning routine. He leads worship at 8am, as takes place in many Episcopal churches. So he arrives at 6am to get ready. He goes into the church by himself, sits in the chair from which he will later preside at the liturgy and prays for a while for the church and for the grace to lead the church. Then he begins to move around the church, in a private procession, stopping at stations along the way where ministry will unfold later that morning.

He goes to the narthex (a.k.a., lobby) where he prays for the ushers and greeters, and their ministry of hospitality. He goes to the choir loft and prays for the musicians who will help people worship, in full knowledge that the person who sings prays twice. He goes to the sacristy to pray for the ministry of the altar guild, as they prepare to worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness. He prays at the lectern for those who will read scripture. He stands in the pulpit and prays for the preaching that will take place. Then he returns to his seat, says final prayers, preparing the way for the encounter with God in worship.

I've had my own routine in preparation for Sunday, but let's just say it's not quite that prayerful. It's been about checking on coffee and bulletins and sound system and lights and signage. The fact is, the way I often have come to church is less like this priest I admire and more about crossing out items on my to-do list. Sometimes it's more like going to a movie or a concert, hoping that I'll be entertained or entertaining, that I'll be pleased or pleasing. Sometimes it's just what I always do, a mindless/mindful mix, intention drifting into habit. There must be a better way to prepare the way.

How do we set intention for an encounter with God, with Jesus, with the Holy Spirit, with the Holy One? How do we prepare the way? One church I know posts tasteful signs around the nave. The signs read: Deep Silence Observed Before Worship. That may not be right for every community, but anyone could tell that the place was preparing the way. Another church I know provides prayers for congregants to say at home, prayers for Friday night, Saturday morning, Saturday evening, and Sunday morning before going to church. Again, it's about preparing the way.

Preparing the way has to do with more than Sunday, for sure. And thanks be to God, it's not just clergy that do this work. As Verna Dozier, great lay leader in our church, said: "What happens on Sunday morning is not half so important as what happens on Monday morning. In fact, what happens on Sunday morning is judged by what happens on Monday morning." In many ways, Monday through Saturday we are preparing for Sunday. Our words and actions, day in and day out, constitute that preparation.

On this Monday morning in Advent, listen for the voice in the wilderness, John the Baptist saying prepare the way. His loud voice reaches across centuries and continents to you and me, with a reminder that we each can prepare the way of the Lord, getting ready for Christ to come into the world, into our neighborhood, into our church, into our hearts.

-Jay Sidebotham

 

A favorite New Yorker cartoon:

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you'd like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

As I work on my own spiritual life (note: miles to go), and as I talk with congregations about their work in this regard, I'm spending a lot of time thinking about what it means to be a disciple. What are authentic contemporary expressions of discipleship? What does it look like these days?

The word "disciple" means different things to different people. For some, it seems to be a high calling, a holy aspiration. For others, it seems like a way-too-high bar, something that doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun, an unattainable ought that implies that we're not quite good enough. What do you make of the word?

Advent, a season which began yesterday, is a season that can help us think about discipleship. I'm grateful to find myself reading a book called Being Disciples by Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury. It came at a good time for me. (The older I get, the less I believe in coincidence.) As he writes about discipleship, his language echoes Advent themes.

Advent, the four weeks before Christmas, is a whole lot more than counting the shopping days left. It is a season of preparation for sure, but so much more than fulfilling a gift list or getting holiday cards in the mail. Advent is meant to be a contemplative season, a season of mindfulness, an invitation/exhortation to pay attention, to stay awake, to get ready, to expect something to happen. For those who take the season to heart, it's swimming against the stream, a counter-cultural movement. I generally find I need some help to maintain focus on the reason for the season.

Which is why I was glad to run across Rowan Williams' thoughts on what it means to be a disciple. So I'll shut up and let you listen to him. He writes:

Disciples are expectant in the sense that they take it for granted that there is always something about to break through from the Master, the Teacher, something about to burst through the ordinary and uncover a new light on the landscape.

So let me ask, as Advent begins, are you expecting anything new, or will it be same old/same old? Do you have a sense that in the coming of Christ, the goal of the season, God will have something new to teach you? Are you ready for it? Are you open to it?

Disciples watch; they remain alert, attentive, watching for symbolic acts as well as listening for instructive words, watching the actions that give the clue to how reality is being reorganized around Jesus.

So let me ask, as Advent begins, can you imagine that reality is being reorganized around Jesus? What do you think that would look like? Would you know it if you saw it? Are you watching?

A disciple is simply a learner, and this is what the disciple learns: how to be a place in the world where the act of God can come alive.

So let me ask, as Advent begins, can you think of yourself as a disciple who is always a learner? Are you open to the idea that you might just be a place where the act of God can come alive? In the second century, a Christian named Irenaeus said that the glory of God is a human being fully alive. Can you expect that kind of revival in your own life? Disciples apparently expect that to happen. Let this season of Advent be a time to focus on your discipleship, and see what happens.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you'd like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

"If it ain't about love, it ain't about God."

That was just one of the gems offered by our shy and retiring Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry last Friday in his peripatetic preaching. (Pity the poor cameraman trying to follow him.) I was privileged to hear him in Dallas, at a conference called Evangelism Matters. The perhaps preposterous premise of the gathering was that Episcopalians and evangelism go together. Said another way, as Michael Curry demonstrated, an Episcopal evangelist is not an oxymoron.

If you wish to arrive at that point of view, however, you have to suspend prejudice about the word "evangelist", expunge the vision of Elmer Gantry and contemporary descendants (of which there are plenty), and think about the etymology of the word evangelist. It comes from the Greek word for good news. The church over the years, up to current times, has too often proclaimed bad news, manipulative news, self-serving news, exclusive news. Michael Curry called us to another way. The way of Jesus.

Evangelism has nothing to do with a bigger church, he said. It has to do with a better world. He spoke with energy and eloquence about evangelism, part of God's work of reconciliation in the world. He spoke about the dream of God, which is that each one of us would live in loving relationship with God and neighbor. Anything else is nightmare. He spoke about finding our way home.

So wrap your mind around the idea that as a follower of Jesus, or at least someone mildly interested in Jesus, you are an evangelist. Said another way, you are called to share good news.

In order to do that, you have to hold some good news in your heart. Not a bad thing to think about in this week marked by a national holiday dedicated to Thanksgiving. Note: This day became an official national holiday during the War between the States, a political season when it was really hard to find any good news. Thanksgiving may not have been top of mind in those days, sometimes referred to as the recent unpleasantness.

At the heart of our religious practice is a service of eucharist, which means thanksgiving. I'm always struck with the narrative of that liturgy, Jesus instituting the ritual meal of bread and wine on the night before he died. I would have been on the first bus out of town. Instead, he gathered with his friends to say thanks, knowing full well what was ahead of him.

Take some time on this Monday morning to think about those things for which you are thankful, those places where good news has touched your life. I know that every one of us is touched by challenge and tragedy and brokenness. I also know that every one of us has something for which we can be thankful. Including the amazing, confounding premise of our faith that God's love is something from which we can never be separated, that there is no one who is beyond the reach of God's love, that God's presence dwells in each one of us.

Once you've gotten that thanksgiving in mind, think about how you might share that joy with someone you know this week. That would be such good news. Maybe it's something you could share over Thanksgiving Dinner. I sense it would be much more edifying than a discussion of current politics. And would probably be better for the digestion.

-Jay Sidebotham

I was taught that [evangelism] meant converting people to the one true religion, namely, my own. Now I believe evangelism means inviting people into heart-to-heart communion and collaboration with God and neighbors in the great work of healing the earth, of building the beloved community, of seeking first the kingdom of God and God's justice for all.

-Brian McLaren,

in his new book,

The Spiritual Migration

People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.

-Dave Barry

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you'd like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

When I started in ministry, a mentor told me: "Jay, you only have to do two things when it comes to Sunday worship. One, keep it to an hour. And two, leave people more hopeful than when they came." Over the years, I've had varying degrees of success with the first one. We clergy do go on.

And I've aspired to the second goal, because everybody needs hope. Which brings me to current events:

When I preached on the Sunday before election, I issued a call to gentleness and compassion, because I said that after Tuesday, November 8, half of us would be filled with hope and half of us would tend to despair. It's dangerous to preach. I didn't imagine I'd be in the latter segment. Perhaps pride does come before the fall.

Yesterday, I went to church not only because it's my job. I was also looking to get a dose of hope myself. Here in a state which went red, reaction to election results were mixed between high fives and kleenex. I suspect that's true in many regions in this close election. In the spirit of full disclosure, I was in the group going through boxes of kleenex, occasionally uttering expletives to be deleted, for reasons I'm glad to discuss off line. I've been shaken. I've wondered about how to move forward. So yesterday, I went to church. For my job. For my spirit.

I preached yesterday on the collect, printed below, which speaks about scripture. It calls us to go deeper in scripture, in that marvelous progression that asks us to hear, read, mark, learn and inwardly digest the words from the Bible. This is one of my favorite collects, surfacing once a year. It reminds us that the point of reading scripture is not to be biblically literate, or to be good at religious stuff, or to be holier than thou, or to use scripture as bludgeon on people who disagree with us. The point of reading scripture is to hold on to hope.

Over and over, the transformative, powerful stories of scripture aim to leave us ever more hopeful. The hope of Abraham and Sarah who wandered and wondered if there would even be a next generation. The hope of Moses' mother who put her infant child in a basket in the river, trusting him to God's care. The hope of Israelites enslaved in Egypt. The yearnings of the psalms. The hope of exiles longing for home from Babylonian captivity. Yesterday, we read a passage from Malachi, who spoke of the hope that came with the one risen with healing in his wings, a line included in a Christmas carol. (Hark, the herald angels...) It's the hope of St. Paul writing from prison where every other word is a call to rejoice. The hope that at times in our lives, it may in fact feel like Good Friday but Sunday is coming.

Hope kept showing up. At one service, a small choir sang an anthem which has sustained me at critical passages in my life. The text: "Surely it is God who saves me. I will trust in him and not be afraid." At another service, we concluded with Hymn 665: All my hope in God is founded. It's a beautiful text, set to a tune composed by Herbert Howells. The tune is called Michael, dedicated to the memory of Howells' son who died at the age of nine. (The first two stanzas are printed below.) As I sang the hymn, I thought, if this guy can hang on to hope, I guess I can too.

I'm grateful for a day when prayers, hymns and scripture bolstered my heart, offering comfort and perspective and community. I consider it all to be a gift of the spirit by which I was left more hopeful than when I started the day.

On this Monday morning, I'm hoping that the Spirit is leading you in paths marked by hope, so that by the end of the day, you will be more hopeful than when November 14th began. No matter how you voted.

And in case you're wondering, yesterday, worship was done in under an hour.

-Jay Sidebotham

Take it to the Lord in prayer

Instead of reading my ramblings this morning, take some quiet time to offer these prayers. I've found that when I'm not sure what to say, it's good to pray.

For an Election
Almighty God, to whom we must account for all our powers and privileges: Guide the people of the United States in the election of officials and representatives; that, by faithful administration and wise laws, the rights of all may be protected and our nation be enabled to fulfill your purposes; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

For the Human Family
O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us; unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

For our Country
Almighty God, who hast given us this good land for our heritage: We humbly beseech thee that we may always prove ourselves a people mindful of thy favor and glad to do thy will. Bless our land with honorable industry, sound learning, and pure manners. Save us from violence, discord, and confusion; from pride and arrogance, and from every evil way. Defend our liberties, and fashion into one united people the multitudes brought hither out of many kindreds and tongues. Endue with the spirit of wisdom those to whom in thy Name we entrust the authority of government, that there may be justice and peace at home, and that, through obedience to thy law, we may show forth thy praise among the nations of the earth. In the time of prosperity, fill our hearts with thankfulness, and in the day of trouble, suffer not our trust in thee to fail; all which we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

For the President of the United States and all in Civil Authority
O Lord our Governor, whose glory is in all the world: We commend this nation to your merciful care, that, being guided by your providence, we may dwell secure in your peace. Grant to the President-elect of the United States wisdom and strength to know and to do your will. Fill our leaders with the love of truth and righteousness, and make them ever mindful of their calling to serve this people in your fear; through Jesus
Christ our Lord Amen.

For our Enemies
O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth: deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

In times like these, I give thanks to God for the treasures in our Prayer Book. These and other petitions polished over time can be found in the Book of Common Prayer, beginning at page 814.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you'd like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

Seeing and being seen

Yesterday in church, Zacchaeus showed up. (If you missed it, or want a refresher, read his story below.) I preached a homily about him, and I heard an even better homily from my colleague, Tim Meyers. We were channeling the same spiritual muse, focusing on who Zacchaeus seeks, and who is seeking him.

The nineteenth chapter of Luke is Zacchaues' fifteen minutes of fame. We don't hear from him again. Sunday School grads may know the cute song about a wee little man who climbed up in the sycamore tree, for the Lord he wanted to see. It makes him sound adorable, a biblical leprechaun. But it doesn't take much imagination to conclude that the guy was kind of a jerk.

I've been familiar with the story for a long time, but I tried to see it in a new way. Luke tells us Zacchaeus was "trying to see Jesus." I suspect that's true for a lot of us. This story describes that desire to see Jesus, and makes us think about things that keep that from happening.

For Zacchaeus, climbing that tree, there were plenty of obstructions, starting with his physical stature. He was short. Nothing he could do about that, a random fact of life that nevertheless presented challenges. Maybe we've experienced fateful circumstances that block spiritual vision.

Then there was the fact that he was in a profession that made him unpopular, that choices he made may have set him apart from the crowd. Maybe there are choices we've made that get in the way of our spiritual perspective.

He was rich, and Luke reminds us again and again that while wealth can be used well, but it can also be a spiritual distraction, even a trap.

And there was his history of ripping people off. Maybe there are things we've done that we ought not to have done. The need to be forgiven and the need to forgive may act like blinders, may block our vision.

Again, Zacchaeus gets just a cameo role, which invites us to bring our imagination to his story. As I meet with people around the church, I often ask what is getting in the way of deeper life with God, discipleship of Jesus, the power of the Spirit. Often, the obstruction is a crisis, random challenges that block a vision of God's grace, things over which we have no power. Sometimes it's the things we have done, the inability to extend mercy to ourselves or others. Sometimes it's the disappointment in what others have done, especially failures of the church. It can start to feel hopeless. Except for this fun fact:

The story of Zacchaeus is about his intention to see Jesus, to conquer obstacles getting in his way. But that's not the whole story. The real transformation in his life happens because Jesus sees Zacchaeus. As the parade moves down the crowded street, Jesus brings it to a halt under that sycamore tree. He looks up to see Zacchaeus in that place of secluded inquiry. (Could Zacchaeus have been an Episcopalian?) Jesus invites himself over to lunch at Zacchaeus' house. Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus. Perhaps he should have been careful what he asked for.

By the time dessert rolls around, Zaccheus is a new man, promising to change his life, gladly giving up a bunch of money, making amends, healing broken relationships, beginning a new chapter. What does Jesus see in him: Not a rip-off artist. Not a pariah. Jesus sees in Zacchaeus a child of Abraham, a child of promise.

To whatever extent we wish to overcome obstacles that keep us from clearer spiritual vision, the fact is that Jesus has already got his eyes on us. He sees what we can be. He sees us as children of promise. If he can see us that way, regardless of our limits and failures, maybe we can see ourselves in a new light as well. Try that perspective this Monday morning.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you'd like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

Recent conversations

Recent conversations have called to mind fond memories of ministry with one particularly witty colleague. She got the nickname "The Terminator" because we noticed that in her premarital counseling, a number of couples decided to postpone or cancel wedding plans. She approached the counseling with, how shall we say, a directness that suffused all of her conversations. I remember driving with her past a 10k road race. She remarked to me: I'll start running when the people who are doing it start looking like they're having fun.

We could say the same about church. Way too often clergy and the congregations they lead seem to have cornered the market on "more miserable than thou," living into H.L. Mencken's definition of a puritan, i.e., someone who is unhappy because someone somewhere is having a good time. In our beloved denomination, the term "frozen chosen" only generates laughter because it reflects some truth. Joy is not always, but too often, in short supply in the church these days. In a world where you attract more with honey than vinegar, the church often serves up vinegar.

The recent conversations I mentioned in the first paragraph had to do with evangelism, not a word often associated with Episcopalians, for some good reasons. But it's a word I'm not ready to surrender, because at the root of evangelism is the Greek word euangel which means good news. And we all need to hear good news.

After watching yesterday's Sunday news shows, reading the Sunday paper, spending way too much time on news websites, I'm having a hard time identifying the good news. (A personal note: Of course, this does not include the miraculous news that the Cubs are in the World Series.)

The recent conversations included a question posed by Chris Yaw, a great Episcopal priest noted for creativity and innovation. He wrote a wry and witty book called Jesus Was An Episcopalian. He leads a ministry called ChurchNext, which provides wonderful learning opportunities online. Google it. End of commercial. In a presentation last week, Chris posed this question to our group:

How is Jesus saving you right now?

I may be projecting if I say the group would have liked another question. Maybe I was the only one who felt that way. It felt personal. Awkward. A bit threatening. I don't often enter into discussion of how I am being saved.

Beyond that, often in the current religious climate, we equate being saved with getting a reserved spot on the express bus to the pearly gates, some future event we anticipate. That's language Episcopalians don't often use. Chris was asking us to think about how the good news is bringing hope and healing right now. In other words, he was asking: What's the good news in your life?

If we can't find a way to think and talk about that good news, evangelism isn't going to go very far. Chris' question was hard, maybe even intrusive, as provocative as it was evocative. But maybe we need some hard questions.

It got me thinking about how Jesus has become my teacher. About how brave he was in the face of complacency and unkindness and injustice. About how his power to heal can help me heal places where I'm broken. How on the night before he died, he gave thanks when his closest friends were about to betray, deny and desert him. How he paid attention to those who had been cast aside. How he paid attention to me, with a grace that lets me know that all will be well, that our crazy, broken world will be set right. That's saving language.

What's the good news for you this morning? Where are the sources of joy? How are you being called to share those things? How are you being saved this day?

-Jay Sidebotham