One way the Youth Gathering showed me we have a long way to go

This is part 2 of at least 3 (OK, probably just three) posts about the ELCA National Youth Gathering. The first post can be found here.

Many good things happened in Detroit. I'm glad we went and especially glad for the experience so many of our kids had. The event itself is not perfect, of course, and that's not what I'm going to write on today. There's plenty to be said for making some philosophical changes to what we do when we come together as a church, but again I'm not going to talk about that here. The truth is I'm not experienced enough, or wise enough, to come up with an ideal solution.

Instead, I'm going to talk about something that I witnessed leaving Ford Field each evening that left me concerned. No, it wasn't the youth who inevitably don't pay attention to directions and walk down the wrong side of the street, though they left me pulling out my hair all week. Instead, it's something harder to comprehend, deeper, and more problematic.

Refuge and Satisfaction (or why we sing "On Eagles Wings" at funerals)

Psalm 91

“And he will raise you up on Eagle’s wings… and hold you in the palm of his hand.”

            So many of the familiar passages of scripture are familiar because of our communal songs. We’re going to sing “On Eagles Wing” today following the sermon. It’s part of our collective worship hymnody, and we sing it especially at funerals. In fact, I think we’ve sang it more often at funerals since I’ve started here than at any other time. But, as with much scripture made into song, I wonder if we use it in the way we should. Just like the more famous 23^rd Psalm, these songs seem out of place at funerals. They offer words of courage and refuge from trouble filled with promises for life. That seems odd when faced with death.

            So, let’s take a closer look at Psalm 91.

 “You who live in the shelter of the Most High,
   who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
 will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress;
   my God, in whom I trust.’
 For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
   and from the deadly pestilence;
 he will cover you with his pinions,
   and under his wings you will find refuge.

            I guess the obvious question is “Refuge from what?”

Why the Youth Gathering matters

OK, I admit it, I was not in favor of doing the 2015 ELCA Youth Gathering in Detroit.

Gasp! I know, I know.

The main reason we did the Gathering is because Sam was about ready to beat me if we didn't and because we wanted to keep our commitment to doing things with the rest of the county (and they were pretty set on the Youth Gathering). Still, I had my reservations: Can we really justify spending more money for a glorified party than we do for boots-on-the-ground mission trips? Will the youth really get more out of this than they do from service?

Well, I'm happy to say that I was 100% completely wrong. And here's why:

Our group with Bishop Larry

#1- The energy is catchy
 By the end of most mission trips we're all so exhausted that we go home and have to completely decompress for several days. Well, that might happen with this trip, too, but I feel different after this one and I think others do, too. There's a kind of emotional high that carries beyond the music and the speakers and the 30,000 people in one place. It's electric but, more importantly, catchy. It's hard to come away from this feeling anything but inspired to figure out what we can do back home to rise up together again.

Which brings me to...
#2- It leaves things open-ended
As it turns out, my wife's mission trip next week needed a spot filled when I got back home, so I sent word to all our youth on the off-chance that any of them would want that spot. This was mere hours after getting off the bus from Detroit. No way, I thought, that any would take us up on the offer. An hour later I had heard from three of them. All wanted it. All wanted to go and serve in South Dakota with barely a chance to catch their collective breaths from this week. The Gathering primed them for service. It didn't discourage it and it didn't leave us so taxed that it would feel like a burden. It inspired us to greater service.

And lastly...
#3- It's about Jesus
I should probably learn to never doubt something that has God at its very core. When Pr. Steve Jerbi,  in his Friday evening talk about racism and the loss of a young black boy in his congregation, crescendoed a rousing refrain of "We claim Jesus," it became obvious that this Youth Gathering offered a narrative that is too often absent from our public discourse. Speaker after speaker inspired, yes, but offered a word deeply rooted in the good news of Jesus Christ. This was more than experiential; more than visceral; more than Skillet concerts, inspiring speakers, and Agape rapping; more even than 30,000 people and an experience of togetherness too often absent from our lives as Christians. This was incarnational, Christ-centered; this was Jesus-heavy, Gospel-heavy, promise-heavy. And Jesus-centered time will always be fruitful.

So, I confess I was wrong. This was worth it. Very worth it. It left me a better person. And I hope it did the same for you.

Let's find passion in the things that matter

Psalm 146

“Praise the Lord!” says the Psalm.

That’s not exactly a divisive, controversial statement.

But maybe it should be. Maybe we are failing to get into heated, passionate debates about the things that are really central to our faith, and maybe that gives the impression that when we get into debates over other issues that those things matter more to us.

I want to ask: “Why are we not nearly as loud about the things that are most important to us?”

“I will praise the Lord as long as I live;
   I will sing praises to my God all my life long.”

            Well, I hate to be a snot-nosed kid preacher and ask this, but why? Why does it matter so much that we praise God? I think I have an answer, though I’m not sure how well people can hear it nowadays. My answer is that the good news of Jesus Christ is a life-or-death message. When the Psalm says, “The Lord sets the prisoners free // the Lord opens the eyes of the blind. // The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down // the Lord loves the righteous. // The Lord watches over the strangers // he upholds the orphan and the widow // but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin” this is not hyperbole. People are imprisoned—sure, we can talk about people literally in prison, but there are others imprisoned by addiction, by regret, by grief, by feelings they can’t control. People are blind—we don’t see people who make us uncomfortable; we don’t see people we can help, often times because we don’t want to see it. The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down—and how many of those are there around? The Lord loves the righteous—and how many of us are confident that we are righteous apart from the grace of God? I could go on and on.

            The reason we praise God is because we aren’t sufficient, but in 21^st century America we do a smacking good job of forgetting that. So we argue about health care, and marriage, and guns, and the size of our government, and we put more energy into these things than we do the things that are central to our humanity. I’m guilty of it—nine times out of ten and twice most Sundays.

Why this pastor is FOR same-sex marriage

I've seen too many words in recent days and most of them are the same tired old points. By saying that I don't mean that they are necessarily wrong, just that I've heard them before; I've listened (I really have) and I've been open to being wrong about all of this, but here I stand anyway.

To my mind, this issue of being "pro-gay" or "anti-gay" has everything to do with power. I hope you allow me a minute to explain, because if you stop at this point of saying "Scripture says it; end of story" you're missing the forest for the trees. Scripture has some things to say on the subject. Probably most famously, Leviticus calls relations between two men an "abomination" and, probably most importantly, Romans 1 talks about "exchanging natural intercourse for unnatural" (v. 26-27). Other scripture, like Adam and Eve and Sodom and Gomorrah, could be interpreted in a similar light, but it is most definitely just that--an interpretation (and in the case of Sodom and Gomorrah at least, in my view an irresponsible one).

A bit of context helps: Leviticus is part of the holiness code that differentiates the early Israelites from the other landed people who were a threat to them. For the Israelites it was incredibly important to keep themselves distinct from the dominant cultures; so no shellfish, no mixed fabric clothes, etc., but it was even more important that they procreate and keep the line going. It was so important, in fact, that men were allowed to enter into marital relationships that are not the traditional man-woman model that has been our primary example in the world today. You know, something about "Be fruitful and multiply" trumped everything else, and it's not very fruitful to have same-sex relations--not in that way. In Romans, the context is different. Paul is part of a persecuted Christian sect. All Christians in his time lived that way. They were under the Roman empire and may have been (or, more than likely, would be) jailed or even killed for their beliefs. This Roman culture included many examples of sin run amok: idolatry chief among them, also murder, slander, jealousy, etc., and among those is this business of "exchanging" normal sexual relations for same-sex relations.

OK, so here's where I believe too many American Christians are creating a false equivocation. I think too many of us put ourselves in Paul's shoes as a persecuted minority speaking out against the debased majority when the truth is almost exactly the opposite. I am the majority. I am white, male, and straight. Most of those speaking out most vocally against same-sex marriage also have power by virtue of their race, gender, and/or sexuality. Few of us can faithfully put ourselves in Paul's shoes. Of course, that doesn't mean that Paul is wrong, and it doesn't mean that the holiness code of Leviticus doesn't apply, but it does bring into question whether it applies now in the same way.