A Lenten Prayer

•April 25, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Transferring a couple of posts from an old blog to this one.  This is a repost from 2007.


Though the taste of death

Lingers bitterly on my lips

It is not the death

That my heart longs for,

Not the death that imparts life,

Not the death that merely waits:

Three days in a tomb

Three days alone

Three days of silence

Twenty six years of longing.

This death in me

Breeds only its progeny -

this temporary decay

Is swallowed in its closing jaws

Of eternal damnation.

O how I long for You:

To be found in You

To be lost in You

To know the death

That only immersion can bring.

May the stripes heal

The water purify

The blood cover

The death forgive.

May I be found in You -

Dead to this flesh

Alive in Yours.

Truth In Unlikely Places

•April 25, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Transferring a couple of posts from an old blog to this one.  This is a repost from 2007.

I wrote this poem after volunteering one night at a local homeless shelter. As we sat together and I listened to the stories of the men there, it struck me that they knew more about faith than I could ever hope to. It occurred to me that scripture for them meant something very different than it did to me. While it is easy for me to sit back in a classroom chair and dissect the various literary genres and devices used to construct this book that we call the Bible, the scriptures for these men were a living offer of hope and of a future. What did I really have to share with them except my time, for they taught me more than I could have ever taught them.

Forced Asceticism (2007)

(Dedicated to Michael)

You homeless?

No.

Freedom,

Release from these shackles-

The fruit

Of truth proclaimed

The mirror’s reflection

Recognized

Identity Reclaimed

Illusory this poverty

Worn like a yellow star

Or a blood-red letter -

Maybe a millstone necklace.

Liberation realized

in the scripture spoken;

The Word reborn

Relived

Redefined

“This world is not my home.”

Embracing the Silence

•April 25, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Transferring a couple of posts from an old blog to this one.  This is a repost from 2006.


“Some are able to use their anger

as a bridge back to God,

but many more set their bridges on fire,

denying the presence of God

with all the fury of a rejected lover.”*

…………………………

You drove me to this -

night after night, sitting up late

expecting you to come home.

It was the distance that pushed me

farther away

A companion desired

A lover expected

A cold shoulder received

My vioce echoing into the emptiness

!I HATE YOU!

But it’s all a lie

For hate betrays the Truth

My heart seeks to embrace

And the anger -

marking the betrayal

Of Your torturous silence.

…………………………

And yet it was Your grace that filled the silence

Your love impregnating the stillness

Your care engulfing my ignorance

Your steadfast devotion

That turned a deaf ear

to selfish, egocentric vanity

It was grace that You did not answer

With words that would peirce

Despite their unavoidable truth:

“I didn’t go anywhere;

It was you that moved.”

Yes, I am thankful

For the silence

*Opening quote from The Preaching Life by Barbara Brown Taylor

poem written by Steven Norris, 2006

To-In-With (Community Ministry)

•April 25, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Alright, one final blog post in regards to Rudy Rasmus’ book Touch: Pressing Against the Wounds of a Broken World.  It helps me to write out my interactions with books from time to time – forcing me to articulate thoughts that may otherwise remain vague and amorphous otherwise.  This third post on this book has to do with a passage I particularly found insightful regarding the church and missions to/in/with the community (read below for an explanation of the distinction between the three).  Rasmus writes:

According to Robert Linthicum in his book, Empowering the Poor, ministries can be characterized by their attitude toward “the least of these.”  Some churches have ministries “to” needy communities, some minister “in” those communities, and some minister “with” needy people.

Ministering “to” needy people is keeping them at arm’s length.  A suburban church may take clothes to a shelter and drop them off.  They expect the effort will help in some way, but they have very little contact with homeless people or abused women and children served by the shelter.  In some cases, though, ministering “to” is the best we can do.  For example, tens of thousands of churches sent money to help victims of the tsunami in Indonesia, Thailand, India, and Sri Lanka.  Thousands more assisted with relief in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina that devastated New Orleans and other cities  along the Gulf Coast.  The vast majority of us can’t go there to build relationships with those in need, so sending supplies and funds is the best we can do.  In many cases, however, we need to move beyond ministering “to” a community to connecting “with” them.

Many churches minister “in” their communities.  The building is found in the town or city or countryside, but they see people outside the church as “them” instead of “us.”  They see their church as a haven from the injustice and heartache outside the church and they develop a fortress mentality.  If people come to them, the church will try to find them some help.  But if they don’t come, that’s fine too.

In Walking with the Poor, Bryant Myers advocates “transformational development,” which is the drive for a church to incorporate itself into the fiber of the community through relationships “with” people who live there.  Transformational development transcends the specifics of material and economic improvement and expands the effort to include the spiritual, emotional, social, and material empowerment of the whole person and the entire community.  I believe God has called us to minister “with” a community, to get out into the fabric of people’s lives and meet them where they are, to show the love of God in the midst of their joys and pain.  Instead of the church being a fortress to protect us from threatening people, the church is a family that cares for all of its people, the saved and the lost, the rich and poor, the clean and the smelly.  Churches that minister “with” their communities live in love, not in fear.

Let me begin by saying that I have been blessed to have served on many missions trips over the years, including trips to the Bahamas, Belize, Belgium, Brazil, Cuba, Egypt, Thailand, Turkey, and about a dozen trips to various places in the United States.  Additionally, I served as Missions Pastor for a church for 3 years and have an M.Div. in Missiology.  I say this, not to broast, but to provide a context for my comments.

It is my experience that we often have a difficult time with the call of God to embody/incarnate the Gospel to the world.  Missions is too often defined as going to do something for “those” people who don’t have life as good as we do.  Don’t misunderstand me, I think that it is a great thing for churches to send mission teams to build structures (churches, orphanages, houses, etc.) in poor areas around the world.  Too often, however, people in the middle class church of the U.S. have become “collector’s of mission experiences.”  We take off one week out of the year to “go and do missions.”  We take pictures, make scrap books, arrange the pictures in a collage, buy a few souvenirs and go back to business as usual – with those artifacts to look at a remember when we “had it rough” for a week.  Again, I don’t want to be misunderstood, these short-term missions experiences can be very valuable and are often “spiritual mile markers” or “mountain top experiences” for those that go.  This is great, but this alone is not fulfilling the Great Commission.

As followers of Jesus Christ, our goal should be to develop a heart that beats in rhythm with the heart of God.  Our life’s mission should reflect and resonate with the missio dei (Mission of God) in the world.  The scriptures resound with the claim that the church is “the body of Christ” (see 1 Corinthians 12:12-31).  When Jesus came in his humanity on earth, the scriptures say that in him “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14).  The Church universal is the embodiment of Christ in the world today.  The Church is therefore called to live “incarnationally” – that is, to be the Gospel in the flesh.

Hold up this three-part mission description to life of Jesus.  Jesus didn’t live as an outsider, telling people how they should act – he demonstrated through his life how to live in the Kingdom of God.  Jesus didn’t stand back and refuse to get involved in people’s lives – he was intimate with those that the “religious” people saw as unclean and not acceptable company.  Jesus didn’t hold people at a distance – he ate meals with them, laughed with them, wept with them, and shared life with them.  Their concerns became his concerns as he embodied the Gospel – that the Kingdom of God was at hand.

This is our call as well and we will never be able to live incarnationally until we are ready to get our hands dirty, until we are ready to exchange the “come and see” attitude that characterizes many of our churches for a “go and be” attitude.  (Instead of inviting people to “come and see” what God is doing in your church, making the decision to “go and be” the hands and feet of Christ in your community.)

It’s great if I can volunteer my time to go to the homeless shelter once a month and feed the guys there.  But what are their names?  What are their stories?  Who are their families?  What are their dreams?  The ministry of the Church will be greatly diminished until we get to the point where we see more than another mouth to feed or utility bill to help pay.  We must see a brother, sister, mother, father, friend.  We must see the face of Jesus.  ”What you did to the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it to me.”

Poetic Hermeneutics

•April 19, 2010 • 1 Comment

I heard Julie Pennington-Russell (Lead Pastor, FBC Decatur, GA) speak while in seminary.  She began her talk with this poem.  As you read it, insert “scripture” every time that you see “poem.”  Pretty interesting thoughts about what it means to interpret scripture.

Introduction to Poetry

by Billy Collins


I ask them to take a poem

and hold it up to the light

like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski

across the surface of a poem

waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose

to find out what it really means.

 
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