I mention this on Pentecost because I am still often conditioned by my culture to believe that God is really only present in the good, beautiful and peace-filled realities of life. Intellectually and theologically, of course, I know that is a sentimental and even childish notion - but it runs deep - and I continue to try to grow up and embrace the fullness of the Lord's presence in both light and dark. That's what I preached this morning in worship: God's grace is real and greater than my doubts, fears, experience and understanding.
In his book, The Contemplative Pastor, Peterson writes:
When I first started listening to language with (a measure of discrimination) I realized how thoroughly culture-conditions I was. Talk about being conformed to the world! My use of language in the community of faith was a mirror image of the culture: a lot of information, a lot of publicity, not much intimacy. My ministry was voiced almost entirely in the language of description and persuasion - telling what was there, urging what could be. I was a great explainer. I was a pretty good exhorter. I was duplicating in the church what I had learned through secularized schools and sales-saturated society, but I wasn't giving people much help in developing and using the language that was basic to both their humanity and their faith: the language of love and prayer.
In another section of the same book, Peterson notes that given the reality and ever-present power of sin in our lives, it is easy for the pastor to grow either discouraged or try to educate/counsel the congregation into greater acts of servanthood. But both are signs of idolatry because what the wise and loving pastor must do is search for signs of God's grace even within the brokenness that surrounds us all. We have been called to look for clues of the Holy Spirit in the most unexpected places - like Christ's birth - in the tragedies that hold a deeper promise than the obvious - like the Cross - in the emptiness that evokes more profound prayer and trust beyond our control - like the Garden of Gethsemane.
So today I spoke to my community about my life-long struggle to trust and rest in Christ - and how I'm still not very good at it. And what I have experienced is that over and over again, God still keeps coming back to me with love and forgiveness. My message was all about the personal parts of Pentecost rather than the power of tongues of fire. Most of the time I know that I don't feel very powerful - and many of my people don't either - so I wanted to make certain we knew that God's coming in grace is not about what we do or think or control. It is about receiving the Spirit whenever it blows our way. It is a total gift that we can only receive and cherish.
At the end of my message we sang Tallis' beautiful "If You Love Me" a capella and then gathered around the table for Eucharist. In our hearts we prayed for Syria - and for Cleveland - and for Iraq and Afgahistan, too. We prayed for the local Marine who took his life over the weekend. And for those living with the trauma of sexual abuse. We prayed for those who are sick in body and spirit and for those struggling to find enough to eat. We prayed to have eyes to see the presence of the Lord in the midst of the pain and fear and shame. And then we opened our hands and received the gift of grace that keeps coming to us in the midst of our pain and sorrow and knew that it was sufficient for the day.
credit
1)Eucharist Painting by Daniel Bonnell @ http://images.fineartamerica. com/ images-medium-large/1-eucharist-daniel-bonnell.jpg
2) Around the Dioces by Salford @ http://www.catholicnews.org.uk/var/ storage/images/cbcew2/cbcew-media-library/cbcew-images/year-of-faith/around-the-dioceses/painting-of-the-eucharist-in-salford/222319-1-eng-GB/Painting-of-the-Eucharist-in-Salford.jpg
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