The Strength of Synod

Next week may be my last Synod.  The price of attendance has gone up form thirty to fifty-eight dollars.  I have just spent almost two hundred dollars on a hotel room.   When  food and gas are included in the price it should be over three hundred.  Besides the price,  in the future I may not be able to reschedule my classes to accommodate the time away.

 All in all, not much that happens on the floor seems worth the trouble. The impact of most of the speeches, greetings, presentations, urging, encouraging, rebuking,  informing, and thanking will last about as long as the wind it takes to pass them.  Only what effects the actual running of local churches or church institutions makes any difference.  The rest is pageantry.

Thinking back over my last thirty-two Synods, the one thing that I would truly miss are the people I have met. They are truly important, and usually have made the trip worthwhile.

What difference would it make if Synod were to dissolve tomorrow?  Would a single church close if it did?  Last fall I watched four  churches close, yet few of their members remain unchurched today, and those who have not yet found new churches are still going,  visiting around.  They have not stopped going to church, they are just been attending different churches. Any American Christian should be able to find a church.  Any church within our denomination ought to be able to find some Reformed body who would welcome them.  As an institution, we are simply not as important as we think. 

But if the ARP church dissolved, the true sadness of it would not be in the loss of institutions,  but the  disruption of friendships. If this is my last Synod, it would be the people I  would miss, not the institution.

Synod has been for me a time of sorrows and joy.  My thirty-two Synods have been a succession of friendships gained, lost, regained, and gone--colleagues of my  youth have moved on, retired, or simply passed away. There have been times when I have gone up the mountain to celebrate with my friends . Other times, I have gone up sadly, ashamed to meet my brothers, needing their kind words.  Sometimes, I have gone up the hill angry,  but I have always knew that there were people there who knew me, and I them.  This made me feel happy to come,  regardless of the circumstances. 

I have enjoyed the stories of people I have just met, the opportunities to  pray for others and to be prayed for, the chance to network  and share ideas.  Synod has been a place where I could meet heart to heart and soul to soul, and know together the love of God reflected in others.

What happens under the trees and in the dining hall is what Synod is really about, much more than what happens on the floor.  It is the most truly ARP thing about us.

Faith is about relationships--relationship to God and relationships to others.  The business  on the floor is about defending the status quo or reforming institutions, about worrying over money and power and other worthless things,  squeezing and fussing over particulars, so we can go on being institutions.  The structure quickly overcomes the purpose, like a family  that is more concerned about the house they live in than the home inside.  Like that family, we go on fighting over the color of the drapes and the condition of the carpet, neglecting the spiritual and emotional conditions of those we love so we can "get things done." 

Church is a great place to go if you want to run away from God--that is, if you  reduce the Body of Christ to an institution, members of of the Body reduced to church members, shepherd reduced to an office and Christ reduced to a symbol.  The official church moves on,  without the power to touch or heal anyone. In spite of our institutional order, though, the Body of Christ abides and the gates of hell cannot prevail against it. 

The strength of Synod has very little to do with what we do, but in what we choose to be--brothers and sisters  gathered in a caring community.  This is what makes us different from all other bodies I know.  We actually see each other face to face once a year.   When we forget the importance of these relationships and think of a denominational meeting as a theology class, debating society, or (God forbid) a political body,  we usually end up doing more harm than good.  When we let our strength, shine, though, Synod becomes a positive experience.

THe Ulysses Adventure

Here's one I found in my archives an rewritten. It's from an old sermon I want to use it in a book one day, when I get the time. 

There are four kinds of age.

--Calendar age.  This is our age according to the clock.  We can't do a thing about that
--Physical age.  This is the age of our body. We can be twenty on the calender, but have the body of a forty-year-old, or we can be sixty and have the body of a forty-year-old. 
--Identified age.  This is the time with which we choose to identify ourselves.
Have you ever heard some old guy say "Well in my day, we. . . “  If you are breathing, this is still your day.  You might as well enjoy this day while you have it, and stop griping about what year it isn't.  Enjoy the year that is.
--Spiritual age.  Spiritual age has nothing to do with your calendar age, but everything to do with your attitude towards time.  People who have lost their motivation are old. People who are still learning, growing, and doing are young.  

Tennyson's poem Ulysses says it well.

"Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. "

Tennyson's poem concerns a little known myth about the Greek hero Ulysses.  The story goes that near the end of his life, he gathered his old crew and sailed for the islands at the end of the world.

I love this idea--to make life's end an adventure.  Don't stop learning,  growing, or exploring.  Life ought to be more exciting towards the end, not more peaceful.

We seek adventure too early in life--when we are too young to know what we want or what awaits us.  Like a runner who expends his energy too early in the race, distance and fatigue wears us down, and we lose the spirit of adventure.  The world weighs down upon us, and we abandon our early dreams.  

As we get older, though we gain new opportunities. We do not have youth,  but we can still have courage and faith, so there is no reason to stop trying at the end of life than at the beginning, or to start something new at any age.

• George Bush Sr. celebrated his eightieth birthday by going skydiving. 
• Jack La Lane celebrated each birthday by breaking one of his own exercise records well into his eighties.  
•  Grandma Moses became a world-famous artist in her eighties, 
•  Ronald Reagan became president ad seventy-eight.  

 Those of us over fifty, consider our options. We sit and watch our grandchildren play, our bodies wear out, the world change, and our friends die, mourning the loss of beauty and opportunity,  or we can play,  use our bodies and our minds, make new friends, and change the world ourselves.
Though much has been taken, much abides, if only we are alive enough to take it.  

Practicing the Presence of People

One writer who has greatly blessed me in his writings is Peter Scazzero.  Some time back I discovered his book The Emotionally Healthy Church, and thought it was the best thing I read on the importance of emotions in church life.  His follow up, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality,  though is much, much better. Scazzero relates our emotions to the spiritual disciplines.  In it he approaches the spiritual life in a practical and moving way.

One phrase Scazzero uses in discussing the disciplines of love stands out in my mind -- practicing the presence of people.  

I am well familiar with Brother Lawrence's devotional classic, The Practice of the Presence of God.  If you aren't, get it and read it immediately!  Brother Lawrence makes the point that we should strive at all times in all places to have an awareness of God with us,  whether we are washing dishes, raking leaves, or in prayer. 

Scazzero makes the same point about people.  We should also strive to have a constant ,immediate awareness of the people who surround us.  Modern urban society, with the necessary crowding of strangers together,  tends to make us defensive of strangers. We close off our minds so we look though them, not at them.  As a result,  people become less than human.

We need to always be aware that the people who inhabit our space are people like ourselves, having the same sins, hopes, dreams,  joys, comforts, and loves that we do.  They are made in God's image, just as we are.  They are also broken, fallible, frightened,  hurt,  happy,  and loved by God just as we are.

The opposite of practicing the presence of people  is the political mindset.  The political world view is seeing the world in terms of power--either power to help us or to hurt us.  We  either see others as votes, influences, or obstacles in our way, which must be manipulated,  maintained, or removed.

We see that view in the church all the time.  In our recent problems, we have reduced the other side to a political, not a human entity, allowing us the illusion that we can be a complete Body of Christ without them.  We can push them out of our circle without remorse, because we do not recognize their humanity.

But we are called to love our enemies, not destroy them.  We are called to love our brothers and sisters in Christ, not influence or dominate them.  We have to quit looking at one another as objects to help or oppose our side, and simply see them as people, for whom Jesus died.

Sit in a crowded room. Close your eyes. Listen to the conversations around you, without judging or prying, just listen. You will hear the hopes, dreams,  unhappiness, and happiness of everyone there.  Talk to people and let them carry the conversation. You will hear what Henri Nouwen once said, that there is infinite depth in a single human soul.  But when we see them only as means to an end,  we dehumanize them.

I have always felt this way about the church--it isn't new.  People who look to the past with nostalgia often forget that other people do not share their warm feelings about their personal past.  They will fight to keep things as they are, even if it means driving newcomers away. The newcomers don't count, in their opinion.  Contemporary churches, who insist that people who cherish the past are unimportant, do the same things. Others feelings don't matter.  Both sides think of their own comfort as more important than the comfort and well being of others.

Doctrinal and church disputes should not be trivialized. But neither should they be an excuse for  callousness.  People count and their opinions count--even those with whom we disagree. 

We can't stop disagreeing, nor can we stop defending what we think to be right.  But even then, we can still learn to practice the presence of people. 

A-maze-ing Grace

Working on my new book The Faith Matrix has caused me to read deeply about spiritual disciplines,  and has changed my views on a lot of things.   One of them has been the issue of God's calling. 

I always thought of God's calling was about destinations.  In the Bible, people were called either called from somewhere or to somewhere. Israel was called from Egypt.  Paul was called to Macedonia.  Jeremiah was called to preach.  Amos was called from being a dresser of sycamore trees,  Jonah was called to Nineveh,  Abraham was called from Ur, etc.

But really, this is hardly ever how God's calling works.  Most of the time we are not called to or from anywhere.  Calling is a lifestyle, not a destination.  We are called to follow, that's all. 

Jesus called his disciples by saying "Follow me."  He did not tell them where they were going.   The only reason He tells us anything about our destination is to either redirect us when we are going wrong  or give us hope to go further.  We do not need to know tomorrow if we trust God.  We only need to know where He wants us today. 

Some ancient traditions illustrated this by building prayer mazes. It was a tool for spiritual reflection.   In a maze, we do not know what is around the corner.  All we know is what is just in front of us.

Life is a maze in which we follow Jesus,  seeing only His back as He rounds the corner,  knowing that if we stay where we are, we miss Him;  if we hesitate, we are left behind.  If we go ahead of Him, we  waste precious time on wrong turns. Only by moving when He moves and holding when He holds will we actually find our way though the maze. 

We are not "called" to be ministers or missionaries so much as we are called fo follow wherever he leads.

To follow Jesus  means spending time getting acquainted with Him through prayer and the Word.  We let go of our desires for worldly comforts and carry no more than we need. We remember that we are not needed here,  that the world can carry on very well without us.  It requires that we both listen to the Spirit and know the Word and be in constant contact with Him.

Here's where I get into trouble--I want God to give me a road map rather than be my guide.  I try to discern where I am supposed to be years down the road, rather than just keeping up with where He wants me today. 

Most of my life I have followed what I thought was my career path, moving from one church to another.  It was a straight road, but a dull one.

Now, God has made several turns in my life--and I am glad of it. There are no certainties ahead, but there are possibilities.  For the first time in years. I am growing spiritually again. 

I'm not out of the maze yet.  There are many twists and turns ahead.  But that's part of the fun of following Jesus.