In Memorian 30 Ethiopian Christians

Today the internet brought news that 30 Ethiopian Christians were murdered in Libya by people I refuse to name because I don't want to give them any power or credibility. Today, I refuse to call it terrorism or an execution. I cannot call it war, though those who perpetrated it do so. It is murder. Today, I'm putting ashes on my head and tearing my clothing for my brothers and sisters who have given their lives for Christ. Today, the Spirit calls me once again to follow the Crucified and Risen One, just as they have done, all the way to the end. Surely the enemy is not so much the murderers - they are no more nor less human than we are, despite their actions. The enemy is the spirit of evil that causes humans to take up the sword against each other, to see others as objects to be manipulated rather than as kindred to be respected. This unclean spirit is neither unique nor limited to those nameless murderers. We have known it, and by we I mean US Americans and Christians. We must not forget how easy it is to hate and to kill the objects of our hatred. Today, I'm wondering if it's possible that we could beat our swords into plowshares, if it's possible for us who have been commanded to love our enemy and pray for our persecutors to actually do what our Christ told us to do. It's hard for us to see them as human. We'd rather shoot them, most of us, if truth be told. I know I would. Put a stop to it. Just shoot them down, bomb them, destroy them. As if they are 'its' and not people. That's only fair, right? I want to riot in the streets, just as they are in Libya. It's a lot easier to pray "O that you would kill the wicked, O God, and that the bloodthirsty would depart from me*" than "Father, forgive them, they don't know what they are doing.**" I know, that's Jesus, not us, but didn't he ask us to follow him? And what does that mean if not "go where I go, do what I do, love who I love?" Tomorrow, we baptize Brandon, a young man who comes of his own volition to join with us at Grace Church. We receive 6 other adults into membership. We must tell them that they are in danger. That following Jesus is the hardest thing they will ever do. They will have to die to their desires to get even, to hate, to refuse forgiveness, to every natural impulse that says the answer to violence is violence. They must learn to see 'family' in people of all nations, ages, races and classes. They will be challenged to love their neighbors and their enemies. They will be called to forgive when they'd rather retaliate. They will be asked to see others as human beings, even when they are not granted the same courtesy. They may even be killed for their refusal to give up this way of grace, mercy and peace in a world of hate, revenge and violence. It goes against so much of our natural inclination to follow Jesus. Frankly, I can't see how it's possible for anyone. Is it possible for God? I would list the names of our Ethiopian Christian brothers and sisters. I can't find them. But their witness is powerful today. May God use their deaths to bring what their lives could not - an end to fratricide, which is, after all, what murder really is. Let those of us who live half a world away offer some act of love, forgiveness, or charity in their memory. *Psalm 139:19 **Luke 23:34

Am I authentic enough?

Maybe it's the people pleaser in me, or maybe I'm just jaded. I've fought, lost and won the 'worship wars.' I've declared that I would fight no more, a promise which I have managed by the grace of God to mostly live up to. I love worship. I'm a church nerd, having spent my teen years creeping around a dark sanctuary feeling for the organ key so I could practice for Sunday in the dark. One person declares that traditional worship will survive. I'm not sure what is meant by traditional worship (whose tradition? how old a tradition?) but I am hopeful that we are ending the reign of experience as a criteria for good worship. However, my dear professor Karen Westerfield Tucker's words echo in my brain (like the sound of silence, only newer): Liturgy means 'the work of the people.' Which people? I'm so confused. My young colleague says, "Whatever else worship is, it has to be your authentic voice," and I don't know what that means, except that experience is still king. I mean really, does that mean that if I don't feel like worshiping on one day, I shouldn't do it because that would be faking it? I have a high respect for faking it, if by that you mean doing what you know is a good idea even if you don't feel like doing it. Oh well. Maybe I'm crazy, but I don't think my experience should be the final criteria for whether worship works or not. Sure, I'm one of 'the people' that the liturgy should be the work of. Because of that, I'm going to bring to the table my love of all kinds of music and appreciation for visual beauty. My 'work' will offer more change than some want, not enough 'new' for others. I'll want to hear the organ cranked up (without the tremolo) and also have a mandolin once in a while. I love beautiful stained glass, but I also like the sun streaming in clear windows, even though it's bad for the video quality. I don't mind the video either. A little Taize, a little Gregorian, a little Gershwin. I like it all, the variety and the blending and the old and the new. Why not have it all? I think that's pretty authentic. I like that sort of work! But I also think that the work of others matters too, so I'll sing the Gaither choruses even though I don't like them particularly. I'll sway to "In the Garden" and put up that that organ tremolo now and then. If the drums are too loud on a praise chorus with questionable theology, I'll just wear ear plugs and tap my feet. I will remind myself that lots of hymns have questionable theology but we still sing them. If someone rambles a little sharing about Aunt Tina's gallbladder during prayer time, I'll cringe and then schedule a time to talk about telling your own story, not someone else's. If the baby cries, I'll smile at his parents that it's ok if he stays, and if they want him to go to the nursery, I'll point out the way. If the children sit through the sermon, I'll be grateful but I don't think it hurts their souls in the least to have a little time away from the sitting still. If the sermon is long or short or not visual enough, I'll live. I'll put up with a lot that doesn't feel like my 'authentic' voice, because worship isn't just my work. It is OUR work. It's the work of the people, not the work of the person. Good worship is worship that creates a community that loves others like Jesus loves them. It can happen in a barn in Appalachia or under a tree in Uganda or in a 1960s modern middle class sanctuary in the Midwest. It can happen with music of any style, and with no music at all. It can happen looking at a piece of paper or a projection screen or an iPad or up at the good blue sky. Worship is what the people who are offering it bring to the table when they gather together in the name of Jesus Christ. Sometimes, when we hit the sweet spot of a majority of people, and there is a critical mass of people doing the work of liturgy, we say 'the Spirit really moved.' Do we say 'Worship today was so authentic?' We won't know for sure if the Spirit showed up until we see people loving like Jesus. Maybe when we see that, we should follow them back to their worship and see what they are doing, like you'd follow bees to their hive to find honey. Whether that is authentic or not, I don't know. Maybe it matters, maybe it doesn't. How could the work of the people be anything but authentic?