...wrong every time, Palm Sunday edition

Christ’s is no earthly kingdom; it comes from heaven above.

His rule secures our freedom, and justice, truth, and love.

Hope, peace, and joy our treasure, God’s love above all measure,

Hosanna to the Lord, for He fulfills God’s word!

--Mikael Franzen, trans. Philip M. Young

What do you mean?

--Justin Bieber

Not that kind of kingdom. Not that kind of king.

Those who followed Jesus when he walked the paths and skirted the shores of the Holy Land so long ago got it wrong. They looked for power (as they understood power), might (mainly military and political), the overturning of Roman rule and the restoration of the rightful place of the people of God (top of the heap). It was the lore on their lips, the dream in their hearts, the birthright they claimed. Now was the time, and Jesus was their man/king/savior.

We still get it wrong today. Every time we long for power more than compassion. Every time we ransom the welfare of ‘the least of these’ for another rung on society’s ladder. Every time we trade the deep divine undercurrent of joy for the cheap fleeting thrill of victory. Every time we look to Jesus as a vendor to supply us our momentary desires rather than the Vine to connect us to the source that is truly Life.

Because Christ’s is not that kind of kingdom. And Jesus is not that kind of king. 

Don’t look for that, here.

...on being relentless

Let us be a servant people, reconciling, ending strife;

seeking ways more just of sharing and of ordering human life.

Fill us with a glowing vision of this world as it should be;

send us forth to change that vision into blest reality.

---Joy F. Patterson, 1994

To be called to Christianity is to be called to labor. We are to take up a shared yoke, plowing shoulder to shoulder with Jesus in the humble chores of the household of God. We are to serve wholeheartedly, to share openhandedly.

We are not called to be peacekeepers, holding together some uneasy truce between suspicious adversaries with tape and twine and suspect promises. Rather we are to aspire to peacemaking, to the bold and audacious task of reconciling brokenness and doubt with trust built on God’s abiding love. This vision, this dream, is one that can set the world right.

But, sisters and brothers. There are teeth in this gospel call. In addition to the courageous labor of service, peacemaking, sharing, and dreaming, we are called to more. We are called, relentlessly, to the dogged pursuit of justice—the justice we seek out of a knowledge of God’s overflowing love for each and every one of us, least to greatest.

So my friends, don’t you get tired. The vision of a just world is urging us on—and justice can set things right.

...more and more

God who made us, Christ who calls us,

Breath who guides from deep within,

may our lives of mumbled praying

end with Heaven’s clear “Amen.”

---Terry W. York, 2006

In this beautiful new hymn, which guides us into worship with an invocation of the Trinity—God, Christ, Breath—we are called to consider the deep mystery that is prayer. Well. At least, to me, prayer is often deep mystery. I think I am clear on some differences between prayer and wishing, and prayer and magic…although I am certain that in moments of crisis I might act less on points of clarity and more on base instinct.

When I think of magical prayer, I think of the now-famous instruction Dorothy was given in L. Frank Baum’s 1900 novel Wonderful Wizard of Oz:

Then close your eyes and tap your heels together three times. And think to yourself, there’s no place like home.

As for the power of wishing, who doesn’t immediately burst into song on hearing the lovely waltz from the 1950 Disney animated film Cinderella?

            A dream is wish your heart makes

            when you’re fast asleep.

But prayer must hold more for believers. More than lining up words in some incantational magic, more than wishing and dreaming what will delight us. The prayer I aspire to is the dynamic partnership between our searching and God’s guiding, a holy hide-and-seek where God will always intend, more and more, to be found.

More and more.

...gathering beside the flood

So now let peace and justice be never far apart,

but flowing like a river for every thirsty heart.

These two shall be united, a mighty flowing stream,

upon whose banks we gather to work and pray and dream.

---Ken Medema, 2003

One thing I’ve noticed lately…peace does not have a very powerful reputation. In an age where even our words are weaponized, the idea that peace could be strong, or courageous, salvific in a world of self-made chaos—such an idea is foreign, unsettling, maybe even a little bit radical.

Now it’s true, that there can be an uneasy peace-and-quiet sort of peace overlaid like a coverlet on a reality of fear and hatred and warring. That creepy sort of quiet from suspense movies, right before the villain bounds out from his hiding place to hatch his dastardly plan on his poor, doomed, should-have-known-better victim.

But there is a powerful peace, and it is real. This peace is rooted in justice—justice that seeks the good of the village, and the equitable treatment of neighbor. When this steady, seeking justice and this powerful, persistent peace join streams, their rolling becomes a massive force that is transformative and healing. Beside that flood we can gather, and dream a new way to live together.

Because empowered peace can change the world.

...with rare perfume

A prophet-woman broke a jar, by Love's divine appointing.
With rare perfume she filled the room,
presiding and anointing.
A prophet-woman broke a jar, the sneers of scorn defying.
With rare perfume she filled the room,
preparing Christ for dying.

The Spirit knows; the Spirit calls, by Love's divine ordaining,
the friends we need, to serve and lead,
their powers and gifts unchaining.
The Spirit knows; the Spirit calls,
from women, men, and children,
the friends we need, to serve and lead.
Rejoice, and make them welcome!
---Brian Wren, 1991

In that day, says the Lord, I will pour out my spirit on all people;
your sons and your daughters shall prophesy;
the old among you will dream dreams,
and the young in your midst shall see visions.
On people of every station in life, women and men, 
in those days I will pour out my spirit.
---Joel 2:28-29 (para. laca)

...I sing you

I sing you,
with all my soul I sing you!
I seek to give my spirit wing
with each new day,
with rising song lift you 
for my ever.
I've found gladness in knowing 
your help is my sure footing,
your hope is my soaring,
maker of under and over,
the blue all around.
You are faithful:
you pursue justice for the innocent accused;
you fill hungry mouths by your provision.
You grant freedom to the bound,
clarity to the unseeing;
you carry the burden of the bent as if
it were you own;
you rain down love on those 
consumed with law, drown us in love.
You keep watch over the unnoticed;
you stand for the underserved and neglected,
you shake your head as the wicked 
bring about their own destruction.
The community you dream for us 
will be forever. 
I sing you.
---Psalm 146:1-2, 5-10 (para. laca)

...you have dreamed my future

You, you my solid center and my shelter,
because of your nature
lead me, urge me on.
I am entangled;
be my rescue and my refuge.
My spirit flies to your safekeeping;
you have dreamed my future,
Ever-Presence.
---Psalm 31:3-5 (para. laca)

There is a kind of parent I dream of being. It's the fierce mother bear when I need to be, hackles up when there is no doubt about the danger around. It's the sage teacher, asking the right questions at the right times. The cheerleader on the sidelines, my kids' biggest fan. The safe place to fall, when life does what life does. And most of all, I'd like to be the parent that dreams my child's future. I'd like to look into her newborn eyes, his infant face, and see past the hurt and disappointment sure to line life's pathway; and I'd like to dream a future that redeems all of that for them, a future that makes costly sense of the suffering that might come. I'd like to be the parent who could plant that dream of the future in my child, to instill in her the knowledge that she is valued, that he is bought and paid for.

Because knowing you are redeemed? That kind of dream sets you free.

...borne safe

When ends life’s transient dream,

When death’s cold, sullen stream shall o’er me roll,

Blest Savior, then, in love,

Fear and distrust remove;

O bear me safe above, a ransomed soul.

---Ray Palmer, 1830

There are some days inspiration flows easily. There are others when I sit and stare at the screen (or the composition book page if I’m rocking it old school) and it stares back at me. Then there are days when the text bounces back to me, twisted fantastically, as if by a funhouse mirror, distortions and warps making it hard to grasp meaning.

Guess which afternoon it’s been? This verse from the beloved mid-19^th century hymn pulled me toward it, then reflected back at me: “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream; merrily, merrily merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.” Yep. Talk about a brain freeze.

So, I scrolled down on my page, past those first two lines of the verse (out of sight, sort of out of mind). And got to something I could hold onto, something that would hold onto me. In love Jesus, in the midst of our fear, ransoms our souls. In love the Savior, our distrust notwithstanding, bears us safe through the transient dream of this life.

Let me be wholly Yours.

...a not yet world

You come, O Lord, with gladness, in mercy and goodwill,
to bring an end to sadness and bid our fears be still.
In patient expectation we live for that great day
when your renewed creation your glory shall display.
--- Paul Gerhardt, 1653

We live in a 'not yet' world. It is easy to look around and see that things are not as they should be. There is pain, disease, systemic failure; there is evil, cruelty, apathy, human weakness. There are a few with way too much, and way too many with way too little.

Our world does not reflect its Creator. Not yet.

But part of the Advent waiting we do, in addition to looking forward to observing the birth of the Babe in the manger, is looking forward in eager anticipation to the time when God's dream for this world and the reality of this world become one. This, too, is Advent.

Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed. And all flesh shall see it together.

Finished creation, restored salvation

Finish then thy new creation, pure and spotless let us be;

Let us see thy great salvation perfectly restored in thee:

Changed from glory into glory, till in heaven we take our place,

Till we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love, and praise.
---Charles Wesley

Restored and finished. Charles Wesley, in the mid-1700’s, used these words to envision the fulfillment of God’s dream for humanity. With a love that surpasses any other concept of love, God continues to “create” us, to draw us toward purity. This verse is an encouragement to me, as I often feel God must not quite be done with me yet! What a God we worship, Whose creation is not limited to a one-time act, but happens over and over to create and re-create us as whole and pure!

It’s enough to lose ourselves in wonder, love, and praise….

...so here we stand, whoever we are,

bathed in the light of a star...

'Wish' is not 'hope'

Perhaps hope has wings,
and feet...

St. Disney is famous for the phrase, "A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep." And while, a week ago, I made a wish on (mercifully fewer than the actual 50) birthday candles before I blew them out, I have always felt that wishes were toothless and lacking in power. Now, hear me out; I'm not anti-dream-for-the-future. I just think there has to be a more active way to mold the future than by wishing.

Consider 'hope'. Not the "hope you feel better" hope, or even the "hope Santa is nice to you" hope. I'm thinking of that hope with some lift in it, and some feet under it. To hope for something, to place your hope in something or someone, is to commit your own efforts to bring the thing you hope for to fruition. To hope is to step across the line from interested observer to active participant.

The kind of hope the birth of Jesus brought, was this --- hope with power; the power of the hoper, the power of those who 'catch' the hope. This kind of hope, now, in a mean season, is hope with wings, and feet.