An Accent on Grace

As a pastor in a denomination that has “that they may all be one” (John 17:22) as its formational theme, ecumenism and interfaith relations is near and dear to my heart.  In recent days I have been shown once again how important that work is, and how far we still have to go.

Time after time I’ve run into people whose religious perspectives are so strong, so dogmatic they are virtually incapable of thinking in a positive way about any other faith tradition or denomination.  I have no problem with people who wish to believe something different than me.  I personally believe that there is truth to be found in all faith traditions.  We cannot control how God shares the Spirit with us wacky humans down here on Earth.

Theology, doctrine or denomination will never save you.  If you put those things ahead of God, you’ve done a huge disservice to yourself, and committed idolatry.  As a Christian, I feel that we have a unique way of seeing our relationship with God, but I am not going to say that other faith traditions are false, just different.  All of us are speaking the language of God, just with different accents.

I’ve traveled here and there, both in the United States and internationally.  One thing I have discovered is that it can sometimes be impossible to understand another person who is speaking English in an accent other than mine.  Sometimes, it doesn’t even sound as if we are speaking the same language.  Then, as I spend more time with them, as I listen hard, as I give them my attention and value what they are saying, I find I am beginning to hear what they are saying, I’m beginning to understand them more and more.  I’m sure they found my accent to be difficult to understand as well.  We are speaking the same language, it’s just that our accents are so different.  Neither one of us can claim that we are speaking with the “correct” accent, but we can agree that our accents are different.

God’s grace is shown to us in the many faith traditions we have upon this spinning orb we call Earth.  We are called to be “one” as God and Jesus were one.  They were not the same, but they were united.  We are called to celebrate our unity as people of faith, as people who speak “faith”, and we do this while we live out our differences.

Do you know someone whose faith traditions differ greatly from your own?  Have you engaged in ‘God’ talk with them, not in the desire to convert them, but in the hopes that you may be able to understand their accent better?  Might now be a good time to listen?

Looking Down Gracefully

Today we mark the first Sunday in Lent.

In Lent, we take on a position of humbleness, of self-examination, of quiet submission. If we were to take that emotional and spiritual action, and make it physical, we would stand there with our head bowed, with our eyes lowered; looking at our feet. If we watch our feet, we will see where we walk. If we don’t look at our feet, we focus on our destination, not on the way we are getting there. We might not see the stones and broken glass, the dangers and obstacles in our way, and we might not see the cool soft grass, or feel it between our toes, those wonderful moments of grace that God provides for us.

The Psalm from the readings in church this morning (Psalm 25:1-10) remind us that we need to look at our feet. Teach me your ways O Lord, guide me in your paths. I know I’ve stumbled, I know I’ve taken missteps. I’ve stepped off the path from time to time; sometimes I’ve stepped into “it” big time. Remember your mercy; remember how you have loved your people from the beginning. Help me to walk in your ways; I know I cannot do it alone. I cannot just walk without paying attention. Forgive me, lead me and teach me your ways.

Lent is a wake-up call from God. It’s a time when we become aware of our need to look down, to see where and how we are walking. We lower our eyes, we bow our heads, we look at our feet. How are we walking? Are we following the path of God as closely as we would like, as closely as God would like? Are we going our own way? What pulls us off the path? What distracts us, and causes us to wander? Is God calling you back, asking you to pause and look, see how you may have strayed and wandered, how your feet have slipped from the way?

Lent is a gift from God. It’s the space we need to see how we might walk better. It’s God calling us to see how we might be able to walk in closer step with Him, and it’s our response, our prayer that we might have a closer walk with Him. That we would walk with him through these 40 days of Lent to that glorious Easter morning; that we would walk with him through the days of our life to that glorious day when we are received into our eternal home. Pause, look down.....

Transfigured Grace

Today is Transfiguration Sunday, that day that the church remembers and celebrates the brief window through which the disciples saw the glory of God midway through Jesus’ ministry.

High on that mountain in the Holy Land (okay, maybe not that high, Israel doesn't have super high mountains), the disciples were part of a holy moment.  There on the mountain, in the midst of the clouds, in the thin air, they were in a thin place; a place where the perceived separation between ourselves and God seems thinner.

Almost all those who call themselves believers have experienced a thin place, a moment of extreme closeness to God, a time when it seemed as if God was so close you could reach out and touch, when you truly felt the joy and wonder of God’s presence and grace.

I think back to times when I was growing up, gathered around a campfire at Bible Camp.  I think of dark times in my life, when the time of Lent brought a new awareness of God’s presence.  I think of when I finally responded, “Here I Am” to God’s call.  Those were wonderful times.  Those were times I wish I could hold on to.

However, life isn’t like that.  Mountain top experiences, times of extreme closeness and awareness of God are rarely ongoing.  Sitting on the top of a mountain is an incredible thing.  You can see everything that surrounds you from a place that’s high up like the top of a mountain.  It can be nice from time to time to get to a high place, so you can more clearly see where you have been, so you can see where it is you might be headed, so you can make changes in your path if needed.  I think we have all seen the movies where the shipwrecked crew climbs to the top of the highest tree they can find out where they are, so they can see all their options.

High places are wonderful.  There on the mountain, up there where the holy seems so close, up there where God is not just a name or a faith, but a real thing, that we can almost reach out and touch it’s amazing.  But as amazing as it is, we cannot stay there.  Jesus came, not to hang out at the top of the mountain, glorying in God’s presence, shining like a bright light.  Jesus came to announce the kingdom, to serve those in need, to give his life so that others might live.  In our lives as people of faith we are called to mirror the one who is at the source of our faith.

It is when we come down from the high places that we can truly live.  It’s in the places of pain and suffering, in the places of hunger and need, in the places of darkness and despair that we are called to live.  Called and tasked to bring the visions and energies of those high places into the valleys.    In faith we bring comfort and hope, we bring light and life.  In the high places, in those mountain top experiences we are renewed and equipped to live out our faith in the places where we live.

The purpose of faith is not to have "spectacular" and "dramatic"  “mountain top” religious experiences for ourselves.  Faith is about taking those moments of holiness, those experiences of God’s presence, love, and grace, and using those experiences to empower us in service and love to those we encounter.  Sure, there are times when I feel completely and totally unprepared, times when I wish it wasn’t me, times when I wonder what in the world God is thinking putting me in those places.  But, then I remember that I’m not alone.

Jesus came down the mountain with his disciples after the Transfiguration.  Jesus walked with them to Jerusalem, through the dark days of the trial and crucifixion, into the bright Easter morning.  He sent his Spirit, and walked with them from Jerusalem, out into the world of the Mediterranean.   And he walks with us today.

On that mountain top long ago, Jesus was transfigured, and the disciples had a clearer (though confusing) vision of who Jesus was.  On our mountain tops, we too are transfigured, we too are transformed by the grace of God.  On those mountain tops we know what it means to be claimed as a child of God, just as we are.  And from those mountain tops, we must go out into the world.

Go tell it, not on the Mountain, but from the Mountain!

Transcendent Grace

So, what’s up with the title, Transcendent Grace?  Well, it’s basically the theme of my life, my faith, and my understanding of God.  I am who I am because of transcendent grace.

Grace is that great big, huge theological idea of God’s attitude and actions toward us.  Grace is a gift given, without having to do anything first.  Grace is a gift given without requiring a response on the part of the recipient.  Grace is God’s unmerited favor and blessings showered down upon us.  Grace is God’s love for us in the face of who we are.  Grace is God’s gift of salvation.

Transcendent according to Merriam-Webster is exceeding usual limits, beyond comprehension, universally applicable or significant.

That’s what God’s act of love in Jesus the Christ is: Transcendent Grace.  That’s what God’s love is toward us: Transcendent Grace.  That's how God welcomes us, and accepts us just as we are: Transcendent Grace.  No matter how we may try to understand it, no matter how we might try to define or contain it, it remains: Transcendent Grace.