Faith, sports, and what is really important

An article for the Kittson County Enterprise, September 18 edition
 
            I remember vividly my high school baseball coach telling us as a team one day early in the season that baseball was the most important thing any time we were with the team for practice or a game. Outside of those times, faith and family and all sorts of things were more important than baseball, but during baseball time baseball was all that mattered. Rewind a couple hours and I had just listened to my choir director telling us that during choir rehearsal and performances choir was the most important thing. Outside of choir time other things were important, but when it came to scheduled choral events choir was all that mattered. Naturally, my baseball practices and choir concerts almost always seemed to overlap.

I get it. My coach and choir director were each teaching me about commitment, and hard work, and excellence. The lessons learned in any sport or activity can—and do—carry over into countless others in life, so I’m not going to pretend like baseball and choir did not matter. In part they make me the person that I am today. However, I do have to take issue with this idea that any sport or any activity is ever the most important thing at any moment in time. It’s not. I’m sorry.

Biking the farmland, setting goals, and what's ahead

Recently I have been riding my bike a lot. That's not really all that new, but for most of the last few years I've done a fair balance of running and biking and other things--swimming and basketball and Insanity and whatever else. But right now? Just biking. All the time.

There are a few reasons for this. One: I kinda like biking. Two: My knees appreciate the rest from running. And three: My main goal for this year was to do my first century--a 100 mile ride. Hopefully, 19 days from today, that goal will be achieved at the Headwaters 100.

So, I figured it might be time to let people know how things were coming along. I'm entirely certain that most people really don't care about details of training plans and whatnot, so for you, don't worry, I'm not going to get too into specifics. But one of the things I've realized recently is that people actually do enjoy reading about these kinds of stories--OK, I've actually only realized I enjoy reading these kinds of things; I have no idea if you do. I suppose you can vote by not clicking on the link the next time I post something like it.

New beginnings, nervousness, and God's proclamation that it's all good.

Scripture: Genesis 1:1-2:4a

             

            Last week I preached on the end, so where better to start with this week than the beginning (especially appropriate because this time of year is the beginning of a lot of things: a school year, Sunday School and Confirmation, choirs, sports seasons, you name it)? So, even as the seasons change, the harvest moves forward and the leaves start to turn, this is still very much a time for new beginnings. That can be good news and also bad news, because, even as we are excited by new things, we—human beings—just happen to also be really terrible at new beginnings. Even in the most subtly new situation we revert to our six-year-old self waiting for the bus on the first day of school. Even those of us who love going to school get nervous on the first day; and it's the same thing with a first day on the job, first day of parenthood, first day of retirement. For that matter, it's the same our first time driving a car; first time on a plane; first time ziplining; first time riding a bike; first time holding a baby. Every expert in every field had a first time, though by the time we consider them an expert they have honed their skills and made it look like they have been doing this forever. Of course they haven’t, and, depending on the difficulty of their area of expertise, they were probably darn nervous their first time. This is life.

Do you believe in miracles? Sports, narrative, and why we care about this so much.

This is a story about Chris Horner, but it's also a lot bigger than Chris Horner. This is a story about Lance Armstrong and Mark McGwire, Michael Johnson and Marion Jones. It's also a story about the 1980 Olympic Hockey Team, Texas Western, the Springboks, the Miracle Mets, and Buster Douglas. Heck, it's even a story about Rocky Balboa. So it's a BIG story, but we have to start somewhere. The question is where...

"For I know the plans I have for you"--Revelation, Jeremiah, and the telos of all things

Scripture: Revelation 22:8-21

            “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says God, “The first and the last, the arkhay and the telos.” Since I know all of you are experts in Ancient Greek I won’t spend too much time on this but, for my sake, let’s review exactly what that means. God is the Alpha and the Omega—already we’re using Greek terms here. The Greek alphabet runs from Alpha to Omega, like our A to Z. God is also the first and the last, and finally the beginning and the end—the arkhay and the telos. At first blush it seems like those words are just repetitive. If God is the first and the last then clearly God is also the beginning and the end. Silly Greek-speakers, English must just be a more efficient language.

            But actually the two words here—arkhay and telos—are far more interesting than that. When the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek, into what is called the Septuagint, the first words in Genesis 1 were “En arkhay ayn ho logos.”[1] In the beginning was the word. About two thousand pages later, give or take whatever kind of Bible you’re reading, God is professed to be both in the beginning—the arkhay—and in the end—the telos. The word telos conveys both a final destination and a purpose. So, the telos of creation is not just the end of the world but its ultimate purpose as well. We have no word in English that can give us the same depth of meaning of telos, which is a shame because it means that our language does not allow us the same ability to see an end as definitively purposeful. It means it is hard for us to understand that God is not only the creator of the world, and God is not only the one who will bring about its end, but God is also the telos—the purpose and end for all life.

Being present in the present: The real challenge of "Always being made new"

Scripture: Revelation 21:1-7

           This year the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America celebrates 25 years of ministry, and as part of this year-long celebration the church has picked the theme of “Always being made new” with the theme verse which we just happened to read today from Revelation 21:5, “See, I am making all things new.” I’m not going to pretend like this isn’t an intentional message for a church that has sometimes struggled to be proactive in anticipating the future. We are being made new every day, but as a church both nationally and locally some of that newness has been challenging. Locally, our churches have had our share of new and difficult challenges in the last twenty-five years. In fact, the one thing I have heard perhaps more than anything else since taking over this call a year and a half ago is that we have been in need of a new start. A year and a half later, some of my newness has worn off, which means with every passing day it’s a little harder to focus on always being made new, to be the church which Martin Luther called “semper reformanda”—always reforming.

            Of course, there is an underbelly to this idea of always being made new; I know some people have a bone to pick with this theme. Always being made new does not mean we do not honor the past; it does not mean newness for newness’ sake; and it does not mean that new is equated with “better” and old with “useless.” We are made new not because new things are inherently better but because, left to our own devices, we make poor choices and are in need of a word of forgiveness every single day—newness every day.

Lutherans are weird

Scripture: Revelation 20:11-15

Being a Lutheran is a strange thing. If you are one you probably know this. We have potlucks and sing German and northern-Europeans hymns; we meet in church buildings with hard-backed pews; we revel in the good ol’ days when confirmation was tougher than school and nobody—and I mean, nobody—dared approach the pastor to ask how he was doing (and it was always a “he”). This is our heritage. It’s very strange, but so are we. Ours is a story of hard work and piety, which is also strange come to think of it, since Lutherans then turn around and preach that nothing we do makes any difference for our salvation.

Weird.

Lutherans live life straddling a barbed-wire fence between grace and good works. Life is much easier if you camp on one side of the fence or the other. One side of the fence is for those who like to demonstrate their faithfulness through action. For these folks, what they do and say defines who they are, demonstrating that they are good people—good Christians. The other side of the fence is for those who believe that God loves them just the way they are, who believe absolutely nothing is required of them, especially when it comes to God’s love and salvation. 99% of the world lives on either side of that fence of good works and grace, but Lutherans are just a little slow. We go out of our way, mind you, to sit on top of the barbed wire, straddling both sides. Culturally we are a people of hard work; theologically we are a people all about grace.

We are so weird.