Sorry

According to Goggle...source of all that is true :-)...there are about 4,000 new words added to the English language each year.  Yet, there are some words that could use a little more from the support cast in our daily language.  There are some words that are in the spotlight so often, fall from our lips with such frequency, and honestly cannot bare the weight of the sentiment they are trying to carry.  I think of words like: "Love" or "Beautiful" or "Sorry".

Of course, part of what has emptied "Sorry" of some of it's power is the recent development of the non-apology, apology.  This is when a celebrity or sports star or someone more famous than us, makes a mistakes, stands before several microphones in a room full of media and says something like, "I am sorry, if I offend you."  Or, "I am sorry that you feel that way."  By emphasizing that part of the problem is the way others are reacting to the offense, they pull us into the spotlight to act as a shield against the glare.  It is as if they are saying...well this would be so bad if you were not responding they way you are.

And because each week brings with it some person in public life apologizing...or sort of apologizing...about something it means we are awash in constant stream of the word "sorry" flowing from someone's lips.  So, when people in our own lives hurt us or try to apologize, it can ring a bit hallow in our hearts.

Usually when the word "sorry" is floating in air it is because another person did or said something that hurt. Or we did something or said something that really hurt someone else.  When you say something that hurt another person, to pile on another word like "sorry" may not help.  The other person already has realized the myth of our childhood rhyme: "Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me."  In that moment we think, "Yeah, right.  At least bones mend quicker than hearts."  So "sorry" already has an up hill climb.  And when it is an action that hurt someone else...broke trust...words feel empty in comparison.

I often find myself when my children apologize to me saying something like, "I will know you are sorry if you don't do that/say that again."  Sorry points us to the truth that our words and actions sometimes falter and fail. Truth be told, we'd rather not deal with that reality!  Which is why, perhaps, those public media events are so incredibly painful.  It is hard enough to admit to ourselves we made a mistake...much more under the watchful glare of a media trying to fill 24 hours with news.

And so, why all this on a blog about the church/religion/faith?  The church has for a long time been in the business of saying "Sorry"...usually to God on Sunday mornings in the prayer of confession.  I was raised in the era of self-help...self-empowerment...so the church I attended did not do a prayer of confession.  At that time, the concern was it made people feel guilty...and we wanted people to feel good.  The concern was that too many people were leaving the church...and we needed people to stay.  So, out was a prayer of confession.  But we lost a chance to be honest that we don't always do what we want to do, or say what we know we should say.  We lost the chance to shine a light on our own brokenness so that we might have a chance to change.  A confession is not about guilt, although that may be our first emotion.  And if we only stay in the emotion of guilt...chances are we won't change.  Beyond guilt is the truth that in my relationship with God, just as in my relationship with my wife and my kids, there are moments I get it right and moments I get it wrong.

Confession is the chance to be honest about that.  To be sure, worship and prayer should celebrate the moments I get it right too...see posts on "O" and "Thanks".  But there is a balancing act here.  Saying "sorry" is the first step...unfortunately too often the last step.  I also need to be willing to look around at why I did or said what caused brokenness.  I need to be willing to ask for help.  I need to be willing to accept help.  I need to be willing to be open to God's grace which can help.  This is why often after confession we pass the peace of Christ.  Not because we need a morale boost after being that honest.  Passing the peace is a chance to say, we need something beyond ourselves to love our enemies, forgive and be forgiven, and to not cling to our stuff.  We need...GRACE.  When a community stands, shakes hands, and says, "Peace be with you," we are promising that we will try to support each other in the blessings and brokenness of life.  And the person says, "And peace be with you," the promise becomes a two-way street.

So, this week, I encourage you to ponder prayerfully places where things feel out of sync in relationships with others, with God, and with yourself.  Where does it feel like a winter of discontent, even though the summer sun is shining bright?  We enter into this prayer time not with our heads hung low, but with our eyes wide open for where the light of God's grace can shine and offer us strength.  I think that is the power of a public prayer of confession, we all admit we are sorry and we all accept we need more than just a trace of God's grace, peace, and love...we need as much as we can get.

May the God who promises us more grace, peace, and love than we can imagine move in your life this week.

Blessings~

Ordinary

It has felt like an ordinary, average week. Trudging through the days with my trusty to-do list on my desk, checking off items, and generally immersed in the everyday-ness of life. That feels true around the church where the nearest sacred day (Easter) is a little less than two months away, but also feels true at home where the routine of making lunches, doing homework, and the day in, day out common events have worn a rut in our lives.

Don't get me wrong, I love schedules. I like the orderliness of it all. To be honest, it makes me feel like I am in control, because I know what to expect next. Yet, I also like serendipity and some surprises every day.

This week was short of surprises. Usually, when I think of traces of God's grace, those surprise moments are the ones that rise to the top for me...like cream. But when it is an ordinary, average week; when nothing in particular seems to distinguish itself from the to-do list, what then?

Is God found in moments when I am trying to brush out the snarls in my daughter's hair...taking care but rushing to get out the door? Is God found in the same spaghetti meal we've had several times this winter already? Is God found looking at the same computer screen, checking email, going about my daily work?

Often what I read talks about finding God on the mountain tops of joy or in times of difficulty. But what about a week like this, where life has taken on the motto of a turtle: "slow and steady wins the race"?

I am still processing this...as you might have already guessed. But, something in me says that God created all that is around us and within us; the promise is of God's presence in all times and places. And "all" means that even in the midst of an ordinary week filled with leftovers and life as usual, God is there. Maybe because I have gone through this week with a "been there, done that" kind of outlook, I have missed some of those serendipitous moments. Perhaps there was a faintness in the midst of the ordinariness.

Come to think of it, last night my wife and I started laughing so hard over a silly joke about vacation until my stomach hurt. Come to think of it, at a meeting on Monday night, people started to share where they had seen God's grace in their lives...even people who don't usually talk. Come to think of it, the sun is shining today and the ordinary gray of a February day is not the norm. Come to think of it...well actually...I pray by now you can fill in that sentence for yourself with a trace of God's grace you've experienced.

May those traces continue to offer you hope, peace, joy and love of God in the midst of these ordinary winter weeks ahead.

Blessings and peace.

Hope

Hope is one of those fragile words. Like it's cousins, love and trust, there are countless stories that teach us of both the power of hope and the jagged edge that can leave a scar from the experience of broken hope. And like it's cousins, love and trust, we can turn hope into an all or nothing, zero sum game.

Like a child on the high dive trembling before the glassy surface of the water, not knowing how far down she will sink when she hits the water and whether she will come up. Hope, like its cousins love and trust, is a deep end word. We feel like we either hope or we don't. We either embrace and immerse ourselves fully in hope or we distrust and even despair. We either embody hope or we sound like one of those blogs on either side of the political spectrum forecasting doom and gloom for you, your family, the country and the world.

Let's face it. It is not as though what we hear around us today helps fan the flame of hope. Just this week London riots, the stock market roller coaster, political bickering and blame as the fall out over the debt ceiling...hope seems to have taken a vacation to some secluded, secret, off-the-grid location...and doesn't seem to have plans to return anytime soon.

So, when as a pastor, I use the word "hope" (like it's cousins love and trust), I realize that I am on thin ice. Our experience with hope is checkered. As a kid we might 'hope' we get something for our birthday or Christmas. As a kid I remember the joy of opening the He-Man action figure I had begged my parents for. And as I kid there were moments when what I hoped for went forever unwrapped.

As adults our hopes move (somewhat) from material items to more ethereal dreams. Hopes for peace, for our children to be healthy and happy in their life, hopes for healing of a relationship or our bodies. To be honest, most of my hopes are for that which is outside my control.

And in the end, that is what makes hope so fragile. Hopes for peace or for happiness or for joy depend not solely on either myself or entirely on others, but on a messy combination of the two that seemingly can shift from one day to the next. Sure, we can try to be Zen-like in response to our hopes inside us or to the effects of the outside world on the hope we feel. But try doing that when your child is pitching a fit and you hope it will stop.

Since we cannot manufacture hope or mass product its cousins love and trust, where does that leave us? For the cynic or skeptic, hope is a word to be held at arms length and approached with all the affection of radio-active material. Yet, I cannot do that. Hope that today can be better than yesterday is at the heart of my relationship with God. But better not in terms of what's in my wallet or my stock portfolio or my health. But hope that by God's grace and guidance there is more to the future than what I can consume or understand or experience. To give up on hope for me would be like giving up on breathing.

So, as fragile as hope may be today the alternative pales in comparison. When I remember how central hope is to my faith I notice a trace of God's grace that sustains me and strengths me. God's presence is what keeps hope alive. God's presence, not the nightly news or surfing the net or even unwrapping a present, is what keeps hope alive.

So may traces of God's grace surround you this week and may it help fan the flame of hope in a way that is real and can be felt.

Blessings