Grace and different take on Judas Iscariot

I don't know why but recently I have been thinking about Judas Iscariot. He like Thomas the doubter carries a title that won't go away Judas the betrayer.

We tell his story like this. Judas betrayed Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, then used that money to buy a field, and then killed himself.

We don't cry over his death. He had it comin'. He betrayed Jesus because he was greedy.

He was a sell-out. And his present and future community would never forgive him for the destruction his greed caused.

Yet this is just one side of the story. I was surprised to read Matthew 27 and realize that Judas actually felt very deep remorse and returned the money.

He gave the money back quite possibly because he didn't realize the destruction his actions would cause. Haven't we at some point our lives made very bad decisions that have ended with devastating outcomes and have deeply hurt others. just like us my wonders are that Judas didn't realize that Jesus would be killed for his actions.

There is no debate over the end of Judas' life. Filled with such deep remorse and banished from his community... his only option in this life... was to kill himself.

For many good Christians, our attitude is that he had it comin'. Our grace is limited.

Jesus' response to Judas knowing the fullness of what his decision would lead to his impending death...didn't banish Judas from the table but invited him closer and offered him the cup of life.

Maybe the life and actions of Jesus are reminders that those who have made destructive decisions that have damaged their life and others shouldn't be banished from the table but should be invited to come, sit, and feast at the table.

We desperately need to hear this in a society that continues to see suicide rates rise and rise.

We all have family members or we are selves who have made bad decisions. Maybe they/we were/are addicts who have destroyed our/their life and our/their relationship with others.

Or maybe there are those that we have banished from our community because they don't see nor understand the world from our perspective.

Someone asked me today who is this church for that you are starting. Well... Judas. The church was his salvation... and it was nowhere to be found. We have for generations been okay with this story...  but I hope this table that we gathering people around will be a table where people can share the pain and find healing... and their story doesn't have to end... the way so many stories have ended.

can we be friends?

There are moments of my childhood that I recall with such clarity as if they were yesterday.

One of those moments was being in elementary school trying to navigate making friends. Especially navigating who your best friends were. So in first grade, I was in hot pursuit of a best friend. Like in most first grade elementary classes there were bathroom breaks. Everyone lines up and goes to the bathroom.

I remember standing in the line of boys in the bathroom next to my friend and as we waited I asked him if he would be my best friend. Why the bathroom I don't know? Maybe it just seemed like the right time to ask? He said that I couldn't be his best friend. Dreams dashed. Someone had already taken that place. But I could be number two. I guess that would be okay.


I realized then and I still do now in my thirties my deep need for friendship. My deep need to belong.

Somewhere in our culture, something has gotten skewed about friendship. We are now under the impression that friendship comes at the click of a button. The term Facebook friend means something quite different than the word friend.

We live under the idea consciously or unconsciously that friendships come at a click of a button. But they really don't. Friendships, I am learning at this stage of my life, come at a cost and a high cost at that.

I am living into and accepting the reality that friendships aren't fast but instead take time to develop. Sure there are friendships that just naturally blossom organically but I think most friendships especially those formed in adulthood don't start out that way. It is hard to know someone over just spending a few moments with them. Instead of getting to know people now... we do background checks. We check people's statuses, political affiliations, posts, blogs... and just then we might enter this space called friendship.

I am learning that friendships take sacrifice. The willingness to stop the background check and enter into the unknown territory of making a friend. It also means I have to prioritize them in my life. They don't just happen. My wife and I often commiserate with one another as we try to schedule lunches, dinners, phone calls with friends or constituents that could be friends. We open up our calendars sacrifice evenings with the family and to no avail, it never works. Either phone calls are dropped, emails unreturned or someone isn't willing to drop something for the sake of being a friend. And parents are the worst. I love being a parent but if I have learned anything from these past few years... I need and want friends!

They take a steadfast commitment. Like I said friendships take time to develop. Knowing this means that everyone has to be committed to this long term commitment to building friendships and community. If we are ever to really "know" one another we have to take the time to spend with one another. Which means we have to abandon our stereotypes and assumptions of each other. Accept that everyone we are friends with is different. Meaning they live life differently. They parent differently. And to accept that is okay. And in fact, it is great that not everyone is like me. I would be a poor friend to myself!

All the while I am entering into this phase of my life of intentionally making friends I am planting a church. Yet I am trying not to even think about the church part. Friendship is what it is all about... and friends can come together to mutually support one another, affirm one another, empower one another. And to me, that is what church is and should be...

Plants have always been a great image for stuff like this. I am the worst at propagating a plant (rooting it from a cut of another plant). Usually what happens is that the plant I am trying to propagate dies. Usually, it is under my watchful daily eye. But a few months ago I took a couple gardenia flowers placed them on the counter in some water. And I forgot about them. Occasionally I changed the water. And three months later there were roots forming on each of the cuts of plants. Before I knew it I had three more gardenia plants to bloom in the garden.

This is what I am doing... I am making friends. And in making friends we are growing a garden without even knowing it. And this garden that just might sustain and nourish our community. Or in other words church.

kickball and never feeling good enough

For the past few months, I have been doing some soul work. Exploring ways that I might be a better spouse, parent, son, and leader... a better human being. Yet to do this has meant to dive into the murky waters of my childhood. I am discovering that to be a better human being means that I have to be willing to face the darkness that exists within me.

Just recently I found a book "Reboot: Leadership and the Art of Growing Up" by Jerry Colonna that recognizes that being a good leader means being aware and connected to who we are as a human being. Being aware of the unconscious darkness that lurks underneath who we are. 

I think about some of the simple moments of my childhood that had a profound impact on me.  One of those moments was playing kickball in elementary school and the utter terror of standing in line while team captains picked players for their team. I was always near last to be picked. And I always would tell myself why I was last, "you aren't any good, you aren't athletic enough, you made a mistake in the last game..." And when we did play and I missed catching the ball... I would yet again tell myself these things... 

And I still struggle with this very same voice in my head that tells me I am not good enough. But I have always compensated. Faked my way. Pretended. And crossed my finger no one found out. 

We often create bad behaviors that silence our demons so we don't have to face them. We make huge sacrifices as not rouse our demons. As long as my demons stay quiet I am okay. So the temptation is not to I take risks. 

Colonna says, "We forge our truest identity by putting our heads into the mouths of the scariest demons, the realities of our lives."

Or as Carl Jung states that if we bring the unconscious to lite we will change our fate. I don't have to live with this lurking feeling "of never measuring up" I can instead choose the path for which our baptism makes real in all of us. 

Relinquish the shame that holds us captive. 

We are children loved, cherished, and called by God. We no longer have to measure up or be good enough or feel the need to change who we are to please others. 

For many, I think this type of soul work makes people uncomfortable. In an age where we share any thought... has really become let's talk about everything but the demons that lurk behind the surface of us. 

This journey has made me more empathetic and compassionate especially towards people that I have been difficult to get along with. I envision them as a child at their metaphorical kickball game or living in the household for which they came. What demons have they spent their whole life trying to hide? Maybe they were abused... mistreated... ignored. Maybe they weren't loved and cared for well. 

Maybe they never felt like they were truly human and deserving of love and compensated for it in all the wrong ways. 

Or I think about my mom. My mom's dad died in a tragic car accident when she was five years old. I think of the thousands (a conservative number) of photos and moments that I have had just in the past three years with my daughter. I can't imagine the type of devastation that does to one's soul to lose your father at such a young age. And then the questions and what-ifs you live with for the rest of your life. All the while trying the best you can to raise your family.

So I am trying to do my soul-work. Everyone has a story or stories they could tell that would make all of us cry for one another because we just didn't know. So I am trying to tell myself on this complicated journey called life that I am of worth and value regardless if I am picked first or last on the kickball. And God celebrates me regardless of whether I kick a home run or not. 

Holy Communion and Being a Dad

I can't say that growing up the church was the most exciting experience of my childhood. I remember spreading out and falling asleep on the pews. Every word coming out of the preacher's mouth was like a sweet lullaby singing me to sleep.

Most kids would go back to children's church but not me! My parents sure did try with little success. I was shy and preferred to sleep on the pew than to be away from my parents. I think my mom tried to leave me at VBS one summer. That lasted for no more than a day. 

Yet the experience of taking communion has to be the most vivid image of the church. I remember kneeling at the altar taking the wafer and the tiny cup of grape juice. I was also aware that this wasn't an every Sunday experience it was every so often experience. 

This ritual that I remember as a child has become central to my understanding of our worship life together and the type of worship life I long for my children to experience outside of anything else.

I know many pastors that would love to move their church in the direction of receiving the sacrament of Holy Communion more often. 

Although most churches might not acknowledge this... that is why you have someone who is ordained/licensed all the other stuff laity can do. You have them to administer the sacraments. 

Most people will say that it "lacks" meaning when it is taken more often. That answer is flawed in and of itself because the meaning isn't derived from us but from God. Or that it makes the service longer. 

There is a powerful, convicting revelation to this reflection to Holy Communion more often... that it isn't really about God but more so about our own preference. 

Yet what the sacrament does for us is draws our story into God's story. We are woven into this beautiful narrative of God, "when our love failed... your love remained steadfast..." We recognize our own limits and frailty and ask God's spirit to "pour out upon these gifts of bread and wine and make them be FOR us the body and blood of Jesus Christ so that we might be for the world the body of Christ redeemed by his blood." 

Yet the convincing factor for me isn't theology, tradition, or even scripture. 

It is my daughter and son. 

Nothing enlivens me more than to see Laurel cup her hands to receive this beautiful offering from God to her. His life. And to be three years old and to know that she dips and shares in the suffering and sacrifice of God. 

No matter where we are whether in a church space or in someone's backyard she is enlivened by this ritual and sacrament. Hands cupped and ready to receive. 

My hope and dream are to create a church around the Eucharist table. Everything we do as a community I want it to lead back to the Eucharist table. Because I have witnessed God's goodness in my own child and I dream for that same worship experience for others. 

Where is your church at?

One of the first questions that come up in conversations when meeting new people is the "what do you do?" question. Anyone who is a pastor knows that when answering this question a myriad of responses will now occur. Some good and some not so good.

We get responses like we haven't been to church in years or we get to hear about the large, happening church that everyone is going to. Or maybe it is the opposite. The word pastor to some is a complete turn-off. It just might conjure images of judgment and condemnation. The label pastor might come off as someone who is trying to instill religion in any and everyone.

Now I am not only a pastor. I am now a church planter, which adds another layer of complexities to a conversation.

I get this line all the time, "Where is your church at?" Wait? Am I supposed to have an answer for this? I officially started this work yesterday?!?! Should I know the location? Should I make something up? And if so... would that make the church legitimate.

And most of all... why does this question irk me so much?

The church has become synonymous with the institutionalized building. A structure somewhere that people attend once a week if that and who give money to maintain.

A building that often times occupies land tax-free that a local business could utilize and add revenue to the city.

Yet the church that is in my dreams... that wakes me up in the middle of the night is not a building.
It is everywhere I go.

I imagine people at the park gathering around a picnic table to feast and celebrate the Eucharist. Or the coffee shop being transformed for a moment into a worship space where we feast over each other's stories and celebrate the story that breathes life into our story.

Where is the church at? It is here. Right now. In this place. It is not something I create but that God is creating, forming, breathing life into the community.

I was delayed...

This past week I have been packing up my office and reminiscing about the last few years (and why I keep so many books that I will never ever read again...).

Last year one of the churches made me a collage of my ordination. There were pictures of me being ordained and pictures with my family after the service. It was a beautiful gift.

The year prior to being ordained was a difficult year because I was delayed. I knew it after my ordination interview before they even told me. At the end of the interview, I got the impression that there was going to be some things that I needed to work on prior to being ordained. It was pretty clear to me that this wasn't my year.

I held myself together in the interview... on my way to the car I passed a friend who just had his interview. He said his interview went great. I lied about mine and said mine did too. Got in the car and my stomach sank.

Some might have cried injustice. But I went right to shame.

"Someone has finally figured you out... you aren't cut out for this work..."

"Just give up... throw in the towel..."

I began thinking about how I was going to tell my church. Would they even care? What were the people who didn't like me going to think? "We knew this guy wasn't cut out for church work..."

And then I thought about my one-year-old daughter.

"Wow! What kind of father are you for her..." What was she going to think about this delay?

Then trying to digest all these emotions in the coming weeks... I felt like I no longer existed to those in my cohort that were getting ordained that year... I had disappeared... they wouldn't look at me... talk to me... I was delayed...

The root of shame is to destroy our dignity. I was trying hard to keep my head above water and a smile on my face.

This collage of pictures became a beacon of hope for me. It reminded me that the voice in my head wasn't telling me the truth.

And the greatest gift of all is that in one of these photos was a picture of my one-month-old son. Grant it he didn't sleep the entire annual conference both me and my wife were stressed the entire time! But none the less not just my daughter was present that day but my son was there too.

There is definitely a lot of feelings that go with being delayed from ordination. There are also a lot of stigmas that keep people like me in the shadows like I carry the disease of being delayed.

Sometimes I would stay up late at night and type into google, "blog delayed united methodist ordination..." and blogs would come up about how people were delayed in the process and how they were grateful. I was somewhat cynical about their experience but also looking and searching for some hope.

And now here I am full of gratitude because of how the journey has shaped me and how I might encourage and lift up those that experience the same things I did.

Or that this blog might come up late one night when someone like me is looking for some hope....

She is shy...

This is what people say when my three-year-old daughter tucks her head into her chest and hides behind my legs. It is the exact same thing people said of me when I was her age. I have been wondering over the past few weeks what it might mean to change my language around shyness.

I understand why people say it and I also feel the need to say these words to somebody to make up for my daughter not accepting automatically every person she meets. It sometimes feels as if she has a secret disease that everyone knows about and feels the need to point it out, "Oh, she is shy".

And yet the most devastating thing about shyness is that people think it means that she doesn't want to play or be involved. Or that they aren't taking in their environment or thinking intently about the people they are around. But the truth is that often times at the end of the day she will tell about how much fun she had playing with her friends or about a friend of mine that she met. Maybe from the surface, she appeared disengaged and fearful, but she unlike others was deeply connected and present.

A couple of weeks ago we went to Disney World and we got a fast pass to see Cinderella (I was thrilled...). She wasn't very excited about seeing Cinderella and much more interested in Minnie Mouse. She did what she normally does tucks her head into her chest, frowns, and hides behind mom.

I am thinking let's hurry this up. Just get the picture and let's go. I couldn't take it! There is a line of people waiting who want to see Cinderella.

And then Cinderella steps in and tell us, "Let her take her time. We don't need to rush." Really... seems to be a lot of people in line...

These words were "magic" no pun intended. Because maybe this is what I wish people would say to her. Maybe these are the words I wish someone would have said to my parents when I was a kid.