Marlin & Sally in Jerusalem

God is God - right?

Sally and I are heading back to Jerusalem soon.  Leaving is always difficult, but we look forward to the year ahead, and are anxious to see our many friends there.  We know from their emails that Bethlehem was rocking on Christmas Eve and we give thanks for that as we know that many of our Christian shopkeeper friends will have had some business, and therefore, may be feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

As you prepare for a New Year, with all the possibilities, and fears too, that lie before you, please remember Sally and me.  And when you remember Sally and me, please remember the people we live around and work with – Palestinian Christians primarily, but Muslims and Jewish folks too.  And when you remember them, please remember to pray for peace, and when you remember to pray for peace, please remember to ask God to give you courage to work for peace as well.

We need courage these days, as much as ever, I think.  I think you think so too.  At least that is what I heard from so many of you.  Nationalism is the god that rivals God, I think.  And again, I think you think so too.  We are Christian Americans, not American Christians – the order matters.  We belong to the body of Christ, and that body is big - big like a woman in her ninth month.  In fact, that body encircles the globe, like a pregnant woman encircles the baby she cradles in her womb.

We are citizens of the Kingdom of God - or Realm of God if you prefer.  At the same time, we are citizens of the United States of America, or Ireland, or the UK, or France, or New Zeeland, or Australia, or Israel, or Canada – depending on which of our friends is reading this posting.  The order of how we think of our citizenship matters, I think.  And I think you think so too.  Certainly the prophets thought so, including John the Baptist, and yes, including Jesus, the Christian Messiah as well.  “My Kingdom is not of this world.”  This comment by Jesus is a direct challenge to the nationalism that was so much a part of Jesus’ world – Roman and Zionist both.  Jesus acknowledged that Caesar deserved allegiance, but in so saying, Jesus also spit in the face of Caesar's claim to be God.  "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's."  Caesar may deserve something, but ultimate allegiance?  I think not!  And I think you think 'not' as well.  Caesar is not God!

Be a good citizen of whatever country you claim citizenship in, but first and foremost – and this to Christians only – be a good Christian.  And when the two kingdoms collide, as they will, then be strong and courageous.

I greatly admire soldiers, and I know that you do as well.  These men and women go where their country sends them and put their lives on the line doing what their country asks them to do.  As followers of Jesus, we need to be willing to do the same thing.  To speak about peace is one thing, but to willingly put our lives on the line to work for peace, well that takes the notion a step higher, doesn’t it?  And yet, this is what is needed most, and I think you know this as well as me.

Please join Sally and me in this movement meant to boldly proclaim the fundamental Christian belief that God sits on the throne, and that God does not, and would not, and should not, and could not move over to make room for anyone else. Challenge nationalism whenever and wherever it exists, and sadly, nationalism exists pretty much everywhere.  God is God and no other.  No one has toppled God from his place, and no one ever will.  In the United States, we will soon change presidents, but not gods, right?  God is God, right?  And God is God of the whole wide, “God so loved” world, right?

        The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter;
        he utters his voice, the earth melts.
        The LORD of hosts is with us;
        the God of Jacob is our refuge.    Selah
 
         ¶ Come, behold the works of the LORD;
        see what desolations he has brought on the earth.
        He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
        he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear;
        he burns the shields with fire.
        “Be still, and know that I am God!
        I am exalted among the nations,
        I am exalted in the earth.” (Psalm 46:6-10)

Watching Papa rise ...

It’s just the two of us, Emma and me, riding on a narrow two-lane Iowa highway to great-Grandma’s apartment.  Five-years-old and already a good friend of mine, granddaughter Emma is in her little girl seat placed behind me in the backside of our rented Chevy Malibu.  We’ve already been seven hours on the road from Michigan, but we’ve perked up some now, as my mother’s apartment is just a few minutes away.  Up over a hill and there on our left, so near the road that you can almost read the chiseled names, is an old small-town cemetery, the old-west style tombstones leaning this way and that as they hold stay over the graves of the sacred dead. These weathered stones were planted so that we would not forget that this is the place of journey’s end for those gone before us, and therefore, for us as well.

“Papa.”

“Yes honey.”

“Is great-grandpa under one of those stones?”  God, the starkness of that innocent question, the sudden imprinted image that it conjures up of my son Joshua and me standing over the fresh, raw, clotted black Iowa earth covering my dad and his granddad – waves of gracious grief wash over my heart with unexpected warmth.

“What Emma?”  I choke out the question, giving me time to think.

“Is great-grandpa under one of those stones?”

“No honey, great-grandpa is in another place, near the place where Papa grew up.”

“But Papa, is great-grandpa under a stone like them?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Is Jesus under the stone with him?”  Her five-year-old brain is locked onto the eternal worry, and like a little bulldog, she is going to hold on until the questions death has raised up in her are dead and buried.

“No sweetness, Jesus is in heaven.”  I have no idea where this is going, and only a vague idea of what I’m saying, but now I’m as interested in the discussion as she.

“But great-grandpa is with Jesus, right?”  I don’t answer soon enough for her, because I’m thinking ahead to the next question.  “Papa? Right?”  She says the “right” with that little child’s uplift at the end of the word – “rigHT” – you know what I mean, rigHT?

“Yes Emma, great-grandpa is with Jesus?”

“In Heaven?”

“Yes, in Heaven.”

“In the sky?”

“Yes.”  I’m struggling here.

“Papa?”  Because I know this child and I know this tone, I know this conversation is only going to go deeper.  “Papa?”

“Yes honey.”

“Papa, are you going to die?”  O my God, here it is, the reason she brought up all of this.  She wants to know about life and death, about loss and living with it.

“Yes Emma, Papa is going to die some day, but not for a long time.  You’ll be as old as your mommy when I die.  You’ll have a little girl just like you.”

“Papa?”

“Yes honey.”

“Will they put you under a stone?”

“Yes honey, they will.”

“Papa?”

“Yes honey.”  I’m fighting the tears now, fighting hard.

“I’m going to stand by your stone, and I am going to wait until I see you go up in the sky to be with Jesus.  That’s what I’m going to do!”  She says this with the matter-of-factness that can only come out of the faith of a child.  I pull the car over to the side of the road.  My vision has blurred.

“Papa, what’s wrong?  Papa!”

Composing quickly, I turn in my seat, reach out and run the back of my hand over her cheek.  “I love you Emma,” I say, because what else is there to say.  “I love you Emma.”

“I love you too Papa.”  O what a gift is a love like this – unabashed, undeserved, unyielding even to death, and unlike any other, so pure and childish and fierce is this love that it can only be from God and can only be like God.  What a gift!  Thank you God.

As I write this, a week removed, I find myself wishing I’d waited by dad’s grave for a little longer than I did – that I’d looked up from time to time as I stood there staring at the ugly mound of Iowa dirt. And I wish I’d taken Emma with me.  I have a feeling her eyes would have seen what mine could not, just as her mind is able to grasp the truth that mine is only able to grope for, but not find.

What a gift!

"Small in Size, but ..."

I was born and raised in Boyden, Iowa, a town of about 500 people, not counting the farm folks who lived near enough to call Boyden home.  As long as I can remember there was a sign on the edge of town, right on Highway 18, where we fought with the county every year to get the cars and trucks to slow down as they rolled past our little town.  It was a pride thing for us, a self-esteem matter.  We weren’t so naïve as to think that cars and trucks slowing down past our little town would somehow increase business.  We simply thought they ought to slow down in recognition that we exist, and that even though we were little, we were legit!

“Small in size, but big in business.”  That’s what the sign said.  Love that sign.  60 years later, a new sign stands were the old signs always stood.  And even though Boyden, Iowa is smaller than it was, the sign still declares – “Small in size, but big in business.”  The good news is that now the cars and trucks have to slow down to 45 miles per hour as they roll past our little town.  They don’t, but that doesn’t mean they are not supposed to.  Just goes to show you that some battles are not won in a day or two.

Last Sunday, December 9, I spoke in two small churches. The Reformed Church of Highland Park is located in the Borough of Highland Park, New Jersey, and The First Reformed Church of New Brunswick, in New Brunswick, New Jersey.  Both of these churches had a hay-day, a day when they were not small.  But those days are gone for now, and now what?  “Small in Size, but big in Mission.”  That’s what ought to be on the signs of these two churches.  Both do mission in a big way and we ought to slow down and take notice.

A new addition is being added to The Reformed Church of Highland Park.  The small congregation is not building a new state-of-the-art sanctuary, not a family life center equipped with a coffee shop and full-court basketball court.  To do what they feel called to do in the place they are placed, they don’t need those tools.  Some churches do, but not this church.  This church in located in the middle of an old neighborhood filled with a vast variety of people.  The need in this place is the need to be radical rather than simply relevant.  There is a difference.  This church knows that “church”, not just their church, but “church,” has lost it’s edge, and without an edge in this place, you are as good as dead.  In fact, you are dead, you just don’t know it yet.  So they are building six apartments above their church.  These six apartments will be filled with six young women who came late into the foster-care program in the community.  They have bounced around and need a stable place with stable, loving, disciplined people to help them transition from foster home to real life in a real tough world.  “Small in size, but big in Mission.”  You gotta love it!  God does.

This church was also the catalyst for a “Ten Thousand Villages’ Store” in the business district of Highland Park.  They weathered the storm of Jewish protest, because this store also sells goods made by Palestinian people.  They handled this controversy with wisdom and care.  God, these folks are good at mission – really, really good.  I like them a lot.  Guess what, you get the feeling that God likes them a lot as well.

And the First Reformed Church in New Brunswick?  Well they define small in size – tiny, really.  But they have a edge-cutting ministry with Muslim women from Turkey.  They reach out to them, and surprise, surprise, these lonely, hurting women reach back.  During this Thanksgiving season, First Reformed, had a Thanksgiving service.  But it was anything but traditional.  They invited a Jewish rabbi to take part, and a leader in the Muslim community as well.  Over 250 people showed up, and I’m guessing God did as well.  “Small in size, but big in Mission.”

So what?  So this – do something big in mission.  You don’t have to be big in size to do this.  Organize a small group in your church who might like to do something big.  Begin dialogue with the other faith traditions in your town.  Look into a Ten Thousand Villages’ Store.  Did you know that your church could sell Fair Trade coffee?  You can.  And it’s not that hard.  You could do this, and it would make a difference to some poor family in some poor place.  You can do this.  And guess what, people will slow down when they drive by your church.  And guess what else, God will notice too.  God will love what you are trying to do.  God will bless what you are trying to do.  God will, because this is what God does.  God blesses those who try to be a blessing.

Do something.  Begin in the New Year.  Gather some others around you, and no matter how small you are in number, you can do some big business in the Kingdom of God.

Please!

Body Language

If you were closely watching the photo ops during the Annapolis Conference then you undoubtedly noticed the body language between the three leaders – Abbas, Bush and Olmert.  It was painful to see the unintended message being sent to Mahmoud Abbas, the Palestinian Authority President.  Honestly, my heart went out to him, as I watched President Bush and Prime Minister Olmert touch one another with the familiarity of old friends.  There was none of that between President Bush and President Abbas, or between Abbas and Olmert.  When it came time for the threesome to move, Olmert and Bush walked side by side as Abbas trailed on behind.  President Bush realized what was happening, paused, and with the wave of a hand, motioned for Abbas to come alongside.  President Abbas tried to catch up and walk alongside, but the other two didn’t wait for him, and he never did catch up.

I think the body language says all that needs to be said about the talks at Annapolis.  Clearly, the Palestinians have no champion, no true friend, and because they have no champion, no true friend, they have no cause to hope for any kind of settlement that will satisfy their desire for a homeland.

One of the saddest aspects of this struggle for peace is the pain I see and feel in the Palestinian people.  They have few if any real friends.  They are the odd one out in every possible relational triangle.  They simply cannot win.  And the pain in them is the pain that comes from not knowing why you are always the one left out.  What did you do to deserve to be treated so shabbily?  You are an educated, hardworking people, who were at one time the most progressive of all the people of the region.  Now you are looked upon as backward, violent and totally disposable.  The land upon which you once lived and worked, is now someone else’s, and so few seem to think there is something inherently wrong in this.

I know, I know, suicide bombings and rockets fired into Israeli cities, and these are morally wrong and the Palestinians ought to stop NOW!  Let both sides put down the sword, and let the light shine on the actions of each for each has sins for which to atone.

If you are a Palestinian, you are someone who has either lost all hope in any kind of equal treatment by the powers that be, or you are rapidly headed in that direction.  If you could leave, you would, but you can’t, so you stay – and what?  Wait for a champion?  Someone who will see you as equal to anyone else, and everyone else?  Yes, you will wait and work for peace and justice.  Or you will fight, and you will fight anyway you can, and let the rest of the world be damned!

I hope and pray it does not come to that, but I fear it will.  It’s hard to imagine anyone standing up for the Palestinian people, and it’s equally difficult to imagine the Palestinian people standing for this slight any longer.  You’d have to be a fool to stand up for the Palestinian people.  They are the least of the least, and they seem incapable of climbing out of the pit that has been dug for them, and to be honest, by them as well.  They need a champion.   And this champion will have to be someone who loves them for who they are and who will not see them as the circumstances have made them.  Who will that be?

Only God knows!  Or, as only God knows, only God – Champion of the widow, the orphan and the powerless, friendless, alien within our midst.