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Time.

I wrote this back in 2009. As the world continues to rush around us on its axis, I keep coming back to it. I need to listen to it more than I need to publish it:

We’ve all heard it said that time is money. Well if this is so, then why is that we when we’re doing nothing we say we’re wasting time? If I’m doing nothing with money, if I’m not using it, we would say I’m saving it. So why isn’t it that way with time? When we’re doing nothing with our time we say we’re wasting it. Nooooo. That’s not right. That’s saving time. That’s taking time by the horns and saying “you’re mine”.

Have you ever thought about how much time you waste by doing? No one has an excess of time, you know. It’s not like some people are given more than others. We’re all given 24 hours in a day, and 60 minutes in an hour. No one can change that. So how can we say that some have more time? It’s your time, you know. Just like a financial adviser would tell you that you need to get control of your finances so that they don’t control you, I say get control of your time so that it doesn’t get control of you.

Stop spending it. Save some. Put some in the bank and do nothing with it. It’s okay, you can do it. God even commanded it. Seriously, check it out. So take some time and do nothing with it. If some one says, “hey, what are you doing?”, you can say “nothing”.

1616364974_2ab35d9c541“Nothing, really? Well than come on over and help me do….”

“No, no, I’m sorry. You don’t understand. I’m doing nothing. That’s what I’m doing.”

“So you’re just wasting time?”

“Nope. Saving it.”

So save some time today. Do nothing. Quit spending more than you have, because one day hard times will hit. The Time Market will crash and you’ll wish you had some saved up.

Have a Wonder-Full 2017

It’s been a helluva year. 2016 is one that will certainly go down in US History books for obvious reasons, but even if you remove the election, it was still one helluva year. Every now and then at the end of a year I do a little “looking back” (or as the wise sage Yogi Berra once said, “looking back in retrospect”), and just in case something happens, I usually wait until the year is completely over to do so. Here we are, five days still left in 2016, but I’m feeling compelled to reflect. Maybe because it’s been such a year, that I just can’t stomach another thing in these five days. So here I go:  But where do I start? Not sure where to start, I went back into my Twitter feed to the beginning of 2016 to see what might’ve been stirring in me and in the world at that time. That’s one of the things I love about Twitter… that question it asks: “What’s happening?”

Well, I was launching a sermon series and daily blog on the Gospel of Luke a year ago, so most of my first tweets of 2016 were about that and the fact that the Vikings managed to win the NFC North. What a difference a year makes. But one of my tweets connecting to my blog on the Gospel of Luke looks, in retrospect, to be somewhat prophetic:

I have been saying to my congregation since the Republican and Democratic conventions that I do not recall a time in my life when this nation seemed as anxious as it does right now. There is a tension in our nation right now that is so thick that you can almost feel it in the air we breathe. On January 4, 2016 I had no idea just how anxiety-inducing this year would be. I don’t need to replay it all for us, but let me just scratch the surface on a few things that struck me in particular.

The Election: It is the #1 story of the year, without question. All along Donald Trump was making noise, and if you could look back on conversations with my friends you will hear me saying, “everybody calm down… after the New Year, when there are actual primaries, America will wake up and Trump will disappear in no time.” I could not have been more wrong. I shoulda listened to my friend Joe, a bonafide prophet, who kept saying, “I don’t know, we need to be careful.” In the end, this election bred deep anxiety on both sides of the political aisle. The left was (and is more so now) terrified of Trump (and there are reasons to be so), and the right was terrified of Hillary (decades of loathing doesn’t just go away). The tension is thick.

13010614_10208942482101403_1588018010296067225_nPrince: We had already lost Bowie and Snape and George Martin, as well as some others, but for me, this one hit hard. I didn’t see it coming, but Prince’s death hit me like a tidal wave. And in some ways, you got this sense when he died that something was up with 2016. It was only April, and you just knew that it wouldn’t be the end. Muhammed Ali, Gene Wilder, and Leonard Cohen, were just a few others that struck me after Prince died, and then, just yesterday, George Michael. I don’t know what the Grammies are gonna do with their memorial segment. It could take up the whole show. Sometimes it snows in April. :\

Jacob Wetterling: This is how huge this year was. Locally this was a huge story, and I almost forgot about it. His disappearance gripped the state of Minnesota and was for decades considered our state’s greatest mystery. That mystery came to an end in September as Jacob’s abductor and killer finally came clean (as clean as a “deal” can be), confessed, and revealed the location of Jacob’s remains. My only solace in it was that at least Jacob’s torture was only for a night. I had longed feared that he had endured, or even was enduring, decades of torture. That weekend, it seemed the entire state shone brightly with porch lights of hope for all missing and abducted persons. This was a pic I tweeted of my neighborhood that night. Not a great pic, but a powerful image.

 

The Cubs: This team just can’t buy a break. One of the greatest stories in sports took place this year, as after 108 years of choking, the Cubs finally won it all. And, yet, even when they win, they lose: The win itself was unforgettable, but it also came in one of the best game 7s ever (as a lifelong Twins fan and attendee of the 1991 game 7 I refuse to give this year’s the top spot alone!), and a week later it was gone- lost in one the most gripping presidential elections in US history. Everybody, in a year that was loaded with so much anxiety, let us not forget the joy of the lovable losers finally winning it all! Go, Cubs, Go. Hey Chicago, what d’you say? It’s been a crappy year. So, Chicago, don’t feel guilty about boldly and joyfully flying that W.

 

Standing Rock: I don’t know what it is, but something clicked in me when violence broke out int eh DAPL standoff on late October. Shortly thereafter there was a call for clergy to come, and I knew Just had to go. This important story also got lost in the election, but if you ask me it was one of the most significant stories of the year. I am still frustrated with President Obama’s silence. I wrote a few pieces on the situation there. Here’s one. And I’m sure some dumb pic of Trump or Hillary will win it, but if you ask me, this is the pic of the year:

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And in the context of the image above, this is a close second:

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Alton Sterling, Philando Castille, Dallas, and Black Lives Matter: The movement and struggle for black lives continued in 2016, and without getting into the depths of it, I think it’s safe to say that anxieties are high in this nation when it comes to race. Many of us thought Martin Luther King’s dream was realized in January of 2008 when we inaugurated a black president, but 2016 was another reminder that racism is so deeply embedded in the fabric of this nation that not even a black president could neither cure it nor realize its end. I’ve struggled with the movement for black lives, not quite getting exactly where I land on it and what my voice in it is. I transferred seminaries from Luther Sem in St. Paul to the Iliff School of Theology in Denver this fall and I took advantage of a class offered at Iliff called “Black Lives Matter”. It was the hardest class I’ve every taken in my life both academically and emotionally. I learned a ton, but I think the most important lesson I learned was this: Fellow white folk: We need to shut up and listen. Really listen. Just. Listen.

I could go on. From meaningful celebrity deaths, to an anxiety plunging election, to broken sports curses  getting lost to centuries long plights for black, brown and red lives, 2016 was a heavy, heavy year. When I look back on the words I wrote on January 4, 2016, I realize that more often than not, I did not do well in turning to wonder when overwhelmed. I turned to anxiety, to fear, to judgement, to slander, to rage, to despair, and at times to hate. I don’t know that 2017 will be any less anxious for us. We are a divided people. A great socio-political chasm exists between us, and our best hope is- perhaps- not to continue to dig our heels in, but somehow to find a way to bridge it. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t speak- or even shout- hard truths. But it does mean that we should be careful about how we do so. And by we, I mean “we” but maybe mostly “I”.

A good friend of mine does this thing where instead of a New Years Resolution, she picks a New Years theme. One year it was “Look Up”. I’ve adopted this practice, and because I’m a slow learner, I’ve basically had the same theme for the last three years: “Spot the Beauty.” This year, I’m going to heed my own words from January 4, 2016 and head into 2017 with a new theme: “Turn to Wonder.”  With that, I close this quasi-year-in-review with an excerpt from my January 4th, 2016 blog post from “A Look a Luke”:

I love that picture of Mary. She’s a 12-14 year old girl, and she is thinking deeply about what’s happening. In what was probably a confusing  time, she turns to wonder. This has been a hard journey. It’s been long, and it’s been hard, and it’s going to continue to be hard. She was, I’m sure, terrified, uncertain and confused. She had to be wondering what God was doing in all of this. And in her confusion, she turns to wonder. There have been confusing times in my life- times where I have no clue what’s happening, no clue where God is in it, and no clue what might be in store. In those times, I usually turn to fear, anxiety, and even frustration. I pray that I may take a clue here from Mary: When I’m uncertain, afraid, and confused, while there may be fear, can I muster up the strength to turn to wonder? Can I muster up the courage to get outside of myself, step outside into the air, and to look up and into the stars to see just how massive the universe is and how within it, God holds me? Do I trust God enough to turn to wonder? And in so doing to trade anxiety for peace?

Beloved, have a happy, beautiful, peaceful, and indeed wonder-full 2017.

O Little Town of Robbinsdale

In 2004 a beautiful insanity entered our home. Here’s something I wrote a in 2009 about that day. Happy birthday, girls!

It was a cold, dark December night and it was time. Two girls who had been fighting to enter the world for over a month were coming. Ready or not, they were coming. A rattled mother and father gathered up their things, their 19-month old son and headed out on their journey. You could feel the bitter cold fighting its way through the windows. The sky was pure black. Homes and businesses lay deep in a “night before Christmas Eve” slumber. All the while this family was wide awake, hurried, excited and fearful, speeding through the streets of Maple Grove, Plymouth, Crystal and on into Robbinsdale. Not a soul seemed to be stirring but for this five in a humble minivan.

It didn’t take long. Within an hour of leaving home, two girls lay silently in North Memorial hospital cribs while the community slumbered before its Christmas festivities. And there we lay, a new born family of five in a hospital. The slightly premature beauties found their home in the NICU. A strange, but mysteriously beautiful place to spend Christmas Eve. While the world dons its gay apparel, carves its roast beast, and decks its halls, many care for the world’s smallest just trying to make it. Something distinctly Kingdom took place there. Something distinctly Christmas took place there in an NICU in Robbinsdale, MN. No fanfare, no hoopla, little to no gay apparel, roast beasts or decked halls. Just babies born in ways no one expected nor hoped; babies born with less than average chances, but with teams of people willing to fight with everything they have to give them life. That’s Christmas, that’s God in the flesh; people giving everything they have to give those with less than average chances a chance to make it in this scary but beautiful world. Yes, indeed it was, distinctly Christmas. The most strangely wonderful Christmas of my life.

Happy birthday, beloved.

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12 Years of Abby and Natalie (Home for Christmas 2004 below, Ages 1-12 above: upper-left is 12 years old, lower-right is 1 year old)

 

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My Letter to U of MN President Kaler

13615416_10209580625294584_3377453851685514708_nI doubt it will even get read, and I tried to keep short, but I just couldn’t. I’m always calling upon my congregation to do what they can to shine light into a dark world, so this is just my meager effort in doing that. Regardless, it helped my soul to send it.  Here’s my letter to University of Minnesota President Eric Kaler:

Hello President Kaler and Staff,
I am writing to you today as a concerned alumnus and lifelong Gopher sports fan (I wanted to include Athletic Director Mark Coyle as well, but I could not find his contact information). Every now and then something flips a switch in a person and you realize you have to do something about it. That happened to me this weekend when the news broke that the football team had called a boycott in light feeling that due process had been given in the sexual assault case from earlier this year. As I watched those players address the media feeling they had been wronged, a switch flipped in me around sexual violence on campus. I know this is an issue on campuses across the country and I know it’s an issue about which the University of Minnesota cares deeply and on which it has been working hard to quell. I loved my years at the U, and as someone who spent 15 years working with teenagers in churches and is now the pastor of a church in town, my heart swells with pride when on “Grad Sundays” one of my students announces that s/he is going to be a Gopher. They always get a “ski-u-mah” from their pastor.
My heart broke for my alma mater this weekend as I watched these football players citing themselves as the victim. There’s a lot I don’t know when it comes to policies, procedures, due process, etc., but here’s what I do know: All too often we men- especially young men- have no idea how our words, actions, and mere presence impact women. The number of women I know of who have been sexually assaulted on campuses is shocking to me. Men are assaulting women on campuses across the nation without even knowing it sometimes. Furthermore the “machismo” culture in men’s sports makes matter worse. There is probably nothing to say here that you don’t already know, but this it a serious issue and I don’t know that it’s getting any better.
When coach Claeys said on Twitter that he had “never been more proud of our kids”, it hit me how much of this issue starts with him. I’ve been a Gopher sports fan my whole life (I grew up in Minneapolis), and I’ve been hearing about sexual assault by Gopher athletes my whole life. While Coach Claeys has back tracked on his tweet (a little), I think his tweet reveals that he is utterly clueless when it comes to the nature and psychology of sexual violence, yet he has more influence on these young man than anyone. Because of this, I am calling for the immediate dismissal of coach Claeys. We need someone leading these young men who will teach them about more than football. The Gopher Football team is a group of men that could probably have more positive impact on matters of sexual violence on campus than any other group. Other young men will listen to them and they will be heard. We need someone leading them who does not need to be taught about the nature and psychology of sexual violence.
Furthermore, I am also calling for a rigorous, intentional and practical curriculum for men’s sports teams, starting with the football team, to be educated on matters regarding sexual violence in such a way that they not merely learn about it but become the campus leaders in matters of sexual violence. Sexual assault is not a women’s issues. It’s a men’s issue. What if the University of Minnesota became the school where its athletes are known as leaders and advocates on these matters, not the perpetrators? What if instead of being known as people who wonder how far they can go without getting into trouble, they became known as advocates for the health and safety of women on campus? How amazing would that be. We have an opportunity before us to revolutionize men’s athletics, but it’s going to take work. It can’t be mere lip service.
I am a man of little influence when it comes to the University of Minnesota. I cannot afford to support it financially nor can even even afford to attend many athletic events. From a financial standpoint, you will not miss me at all. But I love my alma mater, and I don’t want to stop supporting its athletic teams that I love. But until I see Coach Claeys dismissed and I see some serious plans in place to make our male athletes leaders on campus on these matters, I will not be rooting for the Gopher football team. In next week’s Holiday Bowl, I will cheer for the Washington State Cougars, and until I see those changes, I will be finding another football team in the Big Ten to support, and will be using the limited influence I have to encourage others to do the same. I am just one small voice of many, but I hope you will hear me. I am very concerned about the young women I send off to college campuses across the country, and I would love to send them to my beloved alma mater with a little more confidence. No matter our win/loss record, Big 10 standing, or bowl game presence, being a leader on the issue of sexual violence would make Gopher Football a winner in this alum’s eyes.
Thank you for your time. Ski-U-Mah
pastor paul baudhuin, Aldersgate United Methodist Church

What I Didn’t Preach: Sacred Land, Prayer, Daniel & a Black Snake

img_7454-3It’s one of those texts and one of those Sundays: There’s too much in the text and there’s too much in the world. So every now and then you get these kind of intersections where you have to discern what sermon to preach. You only get one, and making more than one into one makes a bad one. Today I preached about the “long night” of Advent. It’s a thing. But there was something else deep in my heart around this text that I chose not preach today, because, as I said, you only get one, and you have to trust the Spirit on which one to preach. So here’s what I didn’t preach today, but which is still aggressively trying to climb out of me:

Today we looked at Daniel 6, which is where Daniel gets thrown into the lions’ den for praying to his god. Here’s the scene: Israel is in exile. They have been conquered and sent into exile and are thoroughly in the grips of another regime. But, as can happen, some Israelites find favor with power and are called to serve the regime in prestigious ways. Daniel is one such fellow. The problem is, well, that pesky thing called humanity. His peers get jealous and threatened by his success. So they set a trap for the ever faithful Daniel. They convince King Darius to pass a law that prohibits the worship of anyone or anything but King Darius. We can only speculate as to why Darius passes this law. Perhaps flattery? It doesn’t matter.

So what happens? Well the obvious. Daniel’s peers go to him just at the time when we faces his holy, sacred land- the city of Jerusalem- to pray to God. They catch him, bring him to King Darius and demand that he be thrown into the lions’ den as the law dictates. Darius regrets this law and does not want to do it, but he must. So into the lions’ den Daniel goes. An angel tends to him there all night by shutting the mouths of the lions, Daniel is saved, and Darius passes a new law that all must worship Daniel’s god (why he didn’t do that before putting him in the lion’s den, I don’t know, but that’s not the point). It’s a happy ending (except for that small little detail of the entire nation of Israel still being oppressed and in exile).

What strikes me is this: Daniel’s response to oppression. He is a faithful Jew, living in oppression and says nothing in this whole story until after he is saved from the lions. The only time it’s even mentioned that he says anything at all is when he is in prayer. Daniel’s response to oppression, even in a seat of power, is prayer. It’s among the most famous stories in the Bible, and when we read it we credit Daniel as faithful and wise just as the text does.

Yet at the same time, today, right now, and for months, another people have responded to oppression in prayer. The people of Standing Rock represent just one tribe of many native peoples who had their land stolen and were led into a kind of exile- an exile on their own land. Someone arbitrarily decided where their land would end and where it would begin, and like Darius and his conspirators, they keep changing the rules to work in their favor. As a black snake plows forward through their holy and scared land to threaten their very source of life, the people of Standing Rock face increased oppression. We may not be comfortable with that word but that’s what it is. They live- and have lived for centuries- under the exiling oppressive arm of the United States of America. What has been their response?

They turn toward their holy land to pray. And, like Daniel, the king’s conspirators have them thrown into the modern day lions’ den of hand cuffs, dog kennels, pepper spray, water cannons, rubber bullets, tear gas, and who knows what else may come as they threaten to evict the Oceti Sakowin camp within the week. The “Biblical values” on which the United States were supposedly founded are not found coming from the king’s throne in Washington, but are found on the camps of Standing Rock.

But this time there appears to be no angel shutting the lions’ mouths. The hand of God seems to be absent, mute, and impotent. But what if the hand of God isn’t absent? I would argue that it’s not. But it is mute and impotent. Advent is the season in which we wait for God to come here and dwell with us. It is when we cry out in our desperate moments for God to meet us here in the flesh. And God did. God came in the flesh as a man called Jesus who is also called “Emmanuel”, which means “God with us”.

But where is this Jesus now? Where is this God in the flesh now? It’s a fair and necessary question. As the story goes, Jesus leads a radical revolution of turning the establishment on its head, is crucified for it- that is, has his body was broken for it- is buried, rises from the dead in wholeness, and then ascends to Heaven. And as this “God-in-the-flesh” ascends, he says, among other things, that we are the ones to go and be (in a sense) God in the flesh in the world. This is why we pray whenever we come to the Communion Table, “pour out your Spirit on these gifts of bread and wine that they may become the body and blood of Christ for us that we may be the Body of Christ for the world.

Beloved, the Church- by the power of the Spirit within us- is the hand of God in the world. We are the ones who are to fulfill the prophet Isaiah’s word that Christ took on as his mission in Luke 4 to, “bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free” (Luke 4:18, Isaiah 61:1). We now are the Body of Christ for the world- that charge is ours.

The people of Standing Rock are Daniel in the lions’ den right now, and there is a raging lion manifested as a black snake waiting to devour them. It is our job to do what we can to show up and shut that snake’s mouth. The people of Standing Rock are embodying the faithful, while the Church has largely been mute and impotent, too distracted by what’s happening with the king’s castle and crown.

As we head into Advent, the stakes are high, and we need to remember that when it comes to oppressed people throughout the world, we are to stand up for them. It doesn’t always fit nicely into our shopping, cookie exchanges, and office parties, but it’s what our call is. If we want to put “Christ back into Christmas”, our task is not to say “merry Christmas” at the checkout counter at Target; our task is to embody Christ by standing in solidarity with those on the margins of society. Or in this case, those whose own margins society continually shrinks down until they have none. So, come, let’s stand together as the very presence of God in the world- as emmanuel- to do the hard work of shutting the mouth of the black snake.

Adam & Eve: Who’s Leading Whom?

img_6479-001-e1378168705770So this Sunday the Narrative Lectionary began with Genesis 2-3. And for the purposes of where the lectionary is going, I felt the message for Sunday needed to focus on the reality of a broken world and our job as God’s people to be laborers for restoration and healing of that broken world. But the more I read this story- this very familiar story- the more something stood out to me that I felt I needed to say but which I did not have time to preach. It was an entirely different sermon. In order to give the Narrative Lectionary focus, the Genesis reading for this year skips over the creation of Eve, not because she doesn’t matter, but that it is in another year when we focus on the relationship between her and Adam. But something hit me about this relationship that I felt warranted words now, and that is this:

Despite many traditional interpretations of this passage in relation to male-female dynamics, Eve is the stronger of these two central characters. For centuries this passage has been twisted to blame what we call “the fall” on Eve, and it is has been twisted to name Eve as subordinate to Adam. It is from perversions of this text that we have shamefully referred to women as “the weaker sex”. What I found fascinating about that in my reading of it this week is that if there is one who is weaker, it’s Adam, and Eve is not so subtly, but clearly, the leader. Let’s look at it…

The story begins with Adam all alone. God makes him from the dirt and he is referred to as “the man”. He gets the name Adam because the Hebrew word for “man” is “adahm”. So right off the bat even his name is generalized and in this sense not particularly strong. It doesn’t mean “warrior” or “worker” or “leader” or anything like that- just “man”. But God does give Adam a job, which is to “till and to keep” the garden. That means he is to serve it and he is to protect it. It’s his to take care of. Then God gives Adam some instructions: “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.” (Genesis 2:16–17 NRSV).

As soon as God gives these instructions (which seem simple enough), the very next thing that happens is God says, “It is not good for man to be alone”, or “it is not good for Adam to be alone”. God gives Adam the instructions and immediately upon doing so it’s as though God says, “oh, boy- he’s got no shot. He needs help.” And it’s here that God says, “I will make him a helper as his partner.” (Genesis 2:18 NRSV). And it is from here that we get a woman, whom Adam will later name Eve, which at its root doesn’t mean the generalized “woman”, but means “life” (a relatively strong name, if you ask me).

Here’s the problem: “Helper as his partner” is a terrible translation. It makes it sound as though Eve is a child holding the nuts and bolts while dad fixes something. It makes her sound like an assistant to the one really doing the work, but if we look at the context, we see that Adam can’t actually do the work at all without her. He needs her. She’s not a “helper”, but she is necessary and active participant. The Hebrew phrase literally translates to “helping opposite”, or as the NET Bible notes, she is “an indispensable companion”. It speaks to a mutuality of relationship. It speaks to the idea that Eve has what Adam doesn’t and which Adam desperately needs and vice-versa. The woman is given a name rooted in the word for “life” because without her Adam (and with him, humanity) dies. She is not secondary or subordinate- she is essential.

But there’s more: It’s from here that the story moves toward that crafty serpent coming in and tempting them to eat the forbidden fruit. Traditionally Eve has taken the brunt of the blame for The Fall because she is the initial one to give in to temptation, and because of that, the story is twisted to make her subordinate. We treat this story as though Adam is some great leader who delegates the task of fruit gathering to Eve, and she fails. But this not all what happens. Just look closely at what happens here…

The serpent comes in and goes directly to Eve. He doesn’t even bother with Adam. I don’t know about you, but I always thought the serpent went to Eve because Adam was off doing something else. But that’s not the case at all. Verse 6 tells us “he was with her”. So the serpent slinks in, doesn’t even bother with Adam and goes directly to Eve. Is this because Eve is the weak one? No. If that were the case, Adam would’ve stepped in and said “not so fast, Mr. Snake!” But he doesn’t. He’s there, but he’s so inconsequential to the narrative that we don’t even notice him. I don’t think it is a stretch to say that the serpent goes to the decision maker, which is Eve. And, she gives in to the temptation. She takes the fruit which God commanded not to take (and even adds to the commandment by stating that they are not even to touch it). She eats and then “she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate.” (Genesis 3:6 NRSV).

Let’s think about this for a second. First of all, the serpent bypasses Adam. He doesn’t even deal with him. The serpent goes to straight to the decision maker. Also buried in this is the fact that Adam is the only one to whom the command is given firsthand. God gives Adam the dietary instructions before Eve is even created. So Adam is the first-hand keeper of the command, while Eve presumably hears it second-hand from Adam. Yet Eve is still the decision maker. She hands the fruit to Adam who is utterly oblivious to anything that’s going on. While Eve is working hard to till and keep the garden of life, working to fend off the temptation of the serpent, Adam is off catching a Pidgey playing Pokemon Go. It is from there that humanity “falls”, and then God gives these curses to the serpent, to Adam, and to Eve.

My point is this. Do not let anyone use this passage to pass on sexist, misogynist declarations about humanity and gender roles. When it comes down to it, what is really happening Genesis 2-3 is God is establishing an equality between the sexes. Eve is the “indispensable companion” to Adam and Adam is the “indispensable companion” to Eve. Or, to put it another way, Life is meant for humanity, and humanity is meant for life. They balance, complete and fulfill one another.

But if there is an inequality between the sexes in Gneiss 2-3, it is certainly not in favor of men. the man (Adam) is a non-factor in this story. Eve is the leader. Putting her in a subordinate position because she is the one that gave in to the serpent initially is like a third string quarterback putting the starting quarterback in a subordinate position because it is the starter who threw a game losing interception on the final drive. Adam isn’t even in the game. He’s on the sidelines with a clipboard and a headset… learning. Like I said, this story is (I believe) about equality, but if it is not, it is about dudes like me being utterly lost, confused, and wholly dependent on women for any chance at survival.

I’m thankful for all those women who’ve led me in my life. First my mom, and then so many others. I’ve said for years now, if you don’t think women can lead, let me introduce you to… and then I can go on with the many women who’ve led, taught, shaped, and mentored me. As I look at this foundational story, I also say, “if you don’t think women can lead, just look Eve.” Yes, she gave in to the temptation, but we all do and we have the benefit of history and still can’t resist that fruit. Though she gave in, Eve is still the leader in the story. So all you women and girls out there, don’t let any one, and in particular church folks, hold you back. God’s been expecting leadership out of you since the beginning. You get out there, assert yourself with your Creator-endowed strength, courage, and leadership, and lead me home.

Has Confirmation Lost Its Way?

Schoolchildren bored in a classroom, during lesson.

Confirmation is a beautiful and right idea, but I wonder if it has lost its way in the United Methodist Church. At its very root it is about confirming one’s baptism. When you’re a baby, your parents put white clothes on you (probably), and bring you to a church where you stand awkwardly before some pastor who asks you a series of very odd (almost Harry Potter like) questions. Then they hand you to the pastor who holds you near what one child in my congregation affectionally referred to as a “baptism bucket”, and proceeds to pour, drip or drizzle water on you and says something to the effect of “I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit”. Then people dote on you for a little while and you go and have brunch. That’s it. Done. Whether you like it or not, at this moment you become a connected to the community of faith and the community of faith becomes connected to you by committing to raise you as a disciple of Jesus. You have no choice in this matter what so ever. And it’s beautiful. It says, among other things, “God is working in you, and you belong here” before you even realize that you do. You have no say in the matter.

That is, until some point in your early adolescent days. You’re trying to figure out who you are, who your friends are, and what this world is all about, and suddenly this thing called “confirmation” pops up. Depending on the church it’s a 1, 2, or 3 year program designed to help you “confirm” your baptism. That is, it is now time for you to have some choice in the matter. Do you want to be a member of this community of faith? More often than not, the answer is yes.
So at some time in the Spring (and these days more and more in the Fall), upon finishing the confirmation class, however long it is, you head back to church, all dressed up. This time without your parents you stand independently before a pastor (sometimes even the same 2944861-hogwartspastor), and that pastor asks you the same Hogwartsian questions your parents were asked when they dragged you in there in that white outfit you wore only that one time in your life: “Do you, Harry Potter, renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness in this world…” and so on and so forth. You say “I do” and “I will” and such and such, and then the pastor and some other folk (depends on the church) put their hands on you, say some words, and, boom, you’re confirmed. Check! Then you never go to church again.

I’ve been leading and co-leading confirmation programs for 19 years. I’ve done it in a variety of forms, and in every one, for various reasons, there’s something missing. Something really important. Something, perhaps, more important than anything else. And something with which I’ve been wrestling for 19 years. This will be my 20th confirmation/baptism class and it’s time for me to rethink this whole thing.

Confirmation, remember, is about confirming your baptism- confirming what was said for you on your behalf when you could not speak or choose for yourself (which is why it is logically absurd to baptize a student and then immediately confirm them. A student who chooses to be baptized does not need to be confirmed, and it sends a bad theological and liturgical IMG_5945message when we do. Phew- got that off my chest- feel better now). So if confirmation is about confirming your baptism, it follows, then, that confirmation is about baptism. It is about the same thing baptism is about. And in the United Methodist Church (as I understand it, anyway- I’m no UMC theology and polity expert) one of the, if not the, primary components to baptism is the joining and committing to the community of faith. The baptismal candidate commits to being a full participant in the community of faith’s method (there’s a reason we’re “methodists”) of discipleship, and the community of faith commits to growing and nurturing that candidate in her discipleship. This is why we UMC pastors are discouraged from doing private baptisms. It’s about participation in the community. The community needs to be there!

Because baptism is about being a full participant in the community of faith, so is confirmation. And here’s where our problem is. What do we do?

We set up a wholly separate program for a specific age group wherein they rarely participate in the life of the community because all they have time for in their busy schedule is the wholly separate program that we set up. And the reason we do that is that there is so much we need to teach our students about the faith so that they can participate in it. Now let’s think about for a minute:

First, why would we expect our students to be full participants in the community of faith, when the very program we’ve designed to help them do that mostly separates them from the community of the faith and has an end date? We may have expectations that they participate in worship, and we may have a mentor of some kind for them, but those are generally secondary to being a part of that class we set up. Why are we surprised when our confirmands “disappear” after confirmation? We separated them from the community in the very program that’s supposed to teach them about being a part of the community!

Second, just think on this again: We set up a 1-3 year program to teach our students what it means to be a participant in the community of faith. Just let that in: We need to set up a separate program to teach our students what it means to be a disciple in a denomination whose very mission statement is “to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world”. What has happened to the church that we are not already doing this? We shouldn’t need to teach our students this. They should already be doing it!

Our confirmation programs usually consist of things like teaching our students about the Bible, what it is, what is not, how it’s structured, etc. We teach them about the Trinity. We teach them about Jesus more in depth (short changing the Holy Spirit, per usual). We teach them about the early church, we teach them about God’s love, God’s forgiveness, and God’s grace.

What are we doing that we’re not doing this in our ministry to children and youth to the extent that we need to set up a separate program from our regular ministries for our teenagers to do it? And we do so by holding a certificate hostage that their parents desperately want/need on their students’ graduation open house table. At risk of hurting some feelings (I just think we need to name the problem), I believe that the fact that we need a separate class to teach our young people what it means to be a disciple is an indictment on the church’s abject failure to live out its mission with young people. We shouldn’t need a separate class from their regular large and small gathered communities to teach young people about being a disciple. We should just make disciples. We need to do a better of job calling our people of all ages to a life of prayer, searching the scriptures, the Lord’s Supper, and acts of service all in the context of the large gathered community and (no “or”) small gathered communities.

What this means for our teenagers is that our youth groups and our worship contexts should be enough to teach them what it means to be a full participant in the community of faith. And those programs (and, yes, worship is a program too) should be enough because they should be disciple forming programs. What our confirmation “programs” should be is the calling of a deep commitment to these methods of discipleship that are centered on prayer, searching the scriptures, the Lord’s Supper, and acts of service in large and small gathered communities. It should be a 1,2 or 3 year commitment to discipleship in the community of faith, but not its own program that ends after 1, 2 or 3 years. We should be calling them to a commitment to our respective ongoing discipleship processes.

And hear this: This is not on our youth ministers, children’s ministers, and Sunday school teachers. This is on pastors like me. It is our job to set up methods of discipleship that enable the entire community- including our students- to become full participants in AAEAAQAAAAAAAATPAAAAJDNlMDIwMTg0LThjODgtNGMyNi04YWZlLWZkMDMyMjE5NzVhMwthe community. But when our worship services are done in a language that alienates them, and when we don’t make room for them in leadership, and when we demand that our youth pastor “grow the program” through mere fun and games and glitz and glamour, we fail to implement adequate discipleship methods for our young people. We need “entry points”, but we fail to disciple our young people when their weekly core gathering lacks discipleship methods. I would rather my youth group be small and make disciples, than be the hot spot in town for teenagers to play foosball (that being said, there’s nothing wrong with foosball in a youth room!). Furthermore, the reason we need “entry points” into youth ministry is that we as pastors too often fall short of discipling their parents that we hang our hopes on our children’s and youth ministers to draw and reach new families. The entry point to the church should not be children and youth ministry. It should be parents bringing their kids with them because a friend, neighbor or family member has come so alive in their own spirituality through the ministry of the church that they can’t shut up about it and invite them.

So that’s what we’re thinking about at Aldersgate UMC this year. Our namesake makes a claim for us that we want to be a place where hearts are strangely warmed. That is, we want to be a place of spiritual vitality, and as Methodists, we believe there is a method to spiritual vitality. So for confirmation, we are going to call our young people to our discipleship process. We are going to call them to commit to their youth group, which will be a place of prayer, searching the scriptures, and acts of service. And we call them to participate in and lead worship, which will be a place of prayer, searching the scriptures and the Lord’s supper. And as they approach confirmation Sunday, we will call them away for one weekend retreat to tie it all together and call them to reflect on whether this life is a life they want to commit to for the rest of their lives. And then when confirmation Sunday comes, those who so choose and have been baptized before will kneel, we will lay hands on them, and we will celebrate their commitment to being a disciple of Jesus as set forth for them by their parents having them baptized. And those who have not been baptized, will kneel and will likewise simply be baptized (and not confirmed because their baptism will be their confirmation!).

There’s risk in it. What if they don’t choose to be confirmed? Well, that should be the caseunspecified
in any confirmation system. And what if there are too many distractions on Wednesday to adequately teach them the core tenets of the faith? Well, when Jesus told us to go and make disciples he didn’t say “teach them everything I’ve commanded”, but he said “teach them to obey everything I’ve commanded.”Jesus didn’t teach students in a classroom. He apprenticed disciples in the world. I don’t know if it will work, but if I’m honest, I don’t think what we’ve been doing has been working.

And so I wonder… I wonder if those students who stick with the commitment to engage in the community of faith, just might stick around after confirmation Sunday. Because “confirmation” will not have ended, because discipleship will not have ended. I don’t know if it will work. But it might. So let’s stop isolating confirmation. And let’s do our busy families a favor but setting up simple but meaningful methods of discipleship for all age groups, and in so doing, let’s get back to being who we say we are: Methodists. Define the method, then call everyone to it, and celebrate those who find renewed vitality through it. There is no need for anything else.

 

Something is Wrong.

justice-387213_960_720Last night I turned on the “news” to get caught up on happenings in the world and in particular the Alton Sterling story (I put “news” quotes because that’s where what’s on the TV belongs these days). My heart sank as I watched reports on yet another black man shot and killed by law enforcement. It was only moments later when I began to see reports about the Philando Castile shooting in Falcon Heights. Grief, sorrow and quite honestly depression sank in. I woke up this morning and it did feel like a new day. The sorrow continues. I don’t know what to do anymore. Something is wrong in our culture and we seem to be utterly unwilling to address it.

I, myself, have been pretty quiet about it, because I think this is really complicated stuff. I will continue to hold that being a law enforcement officer is a difficult, dangerous, and frightening job. We can’t ignore that, and I think very few actually are ignoring it. But what else is true, and which we seem to be unable to confess, is that being a black male in this culture is just as, if not more, difficult, dangerous, and scary. For some reason we are unable and unwilling to admit this.

Story after story after story of black men being killed by police officers have come our way, and every time we find a reason to defend to the killing, all the while the stats continue to prove that something is out of balance. The image we use for justice is a scale, and we do so, because these scales speak to balance. If justice is out of balance, there is no justice. The reality that we must let in (and by “we” I mean primarily suburban white America) is that something is out of balance, and if we truly want justice, something will have to change to tip the scales.

Like I said, I don’t know what to do anymore. All I know to do is write and speak, but I just don’t think that’s enough anymore. This problem is bigger than story and rhetoric. We have a problem in our judicial and law enforcement systems, and we will not get anywhere until we come to grips with that. This does not mean that our judicial and law enforcement systems are entirely and wholly bad or evil, but it does mean that there is a problem. And it’s not a new problem. It goes way back. My first awakening to it was the Rodney King case, but it goes even further back than that. It’s been buried for a long time, but suddenly these things called smart phones are exposing it, and yet we still turn away and blindly defend the establishment.

For the third time, I don’t know what to do. But one cry I have heard from the black community is a plea for people in the white community to speak up. So this is me, a white guy, asking all of us to step back, take a look at the numbers and simply confess that something is out of balance and that we need to do something about it. We have to stop this “yeah, but…” response, and we have to start to listen to the cries. We have to stop picking apart the details of every story and begin to look at the big picture of out of balance scales of justice. We have to stop using an out of balance judicial system to tell us what justice is. That’s like using a broken speedometer to prove I’m not speeding. Something is wrong, and we have to look at it.

Truthfully, I think the embedded racism in our culture that we want to deny is exposed in our refusal to admit that there’s a problem, that the scales of justice are out of balance. I implore all of us to wonder and reflect on why we are so unwilling to admit this. Try to put down the defenses and simply wonder, reflect, and if you are of the praying persuasion, pray about it.

Something is wrong. It just is. So let’s stop denying and let’s start listening. Just start with that, and see where it takes you. We must listen to and hear the cries.

Sometimes It Snows In April: An Ode to Our Sweet Prince

13010614_10208942482101403_1588018010296067225_nIt’s all been said, I suppose, but it’s one those times where not quite everybody’s said it, so this is my turn. Prince died on Thursday. It doesn’t seem real. It’s one of those, “where were you when…” moments. I was sitting in class, and my undiagnosed adult ADD was getting the best of me as someone was talking about the Gospel of John, and I opened up Twitter and saw some initial tweets coming out of TMZ. I actually looked up at the date on my computer to make sure it wasn’t April Fools day. It wasn’t. This was no joke. The more deeply I dug I discovered it was real. That last 20 minutes of class I was in a fog (sorry, Dr. Lewis). Class dismissed and I got into my car to head to my weekly Bible Study at Parkshore in St. Louis Park. It was raining, and every station I had programmed in my car was playing “Purple Rain”. 96.3 should have been playing the Twins game, but they interrupted it to take this moment. I balled the whole way to the Bible Study in shock and disbelief.

Over the last few days, I’ve been a mess. I didn’t know Prince meant this much to me. I feel a little bit like a poser, but these feelings are not fabricated and are undeniable. I was never a deep fan, but I was always a fan. I seem to remember being at a neighbor’s house with my older brother and an early Prince album was playing. I don’t remember the music, but I remember people talking about him, and there was always this tinge of pride with him because, as Minneapolis kids, he was ours. As I grew older I clearly remember getting the Purple Rain soundtrack and playing it over and over, particularly its title track. That song taught me the way in which music can move beyond just a good jam and to something transcendent.

There’s so much that could be said, but I think, for me what it comes down to is this: What struck me about the response to Prince’s death was the way in which all my classmates with whom I came of age kind of came out of the woodwork. Prince indeed crosses generations and ages, but it seems to me that there is something particular that he did for those of us who grew up in Minneapolis in the 70s and 80s. He brought us together.

There were varying opinions on music growing up, as there are in any age: We all had thoughts on Michael Jackson, and Madonna, and Duran and Duran, and Bon Jovi, and many others. Some of us were more inclined to classic rock (like me). Some of us grabbed on to hip hop and rap. Some of us were part of the New Wave.  Some of us got into hair bands. “Hot funk, cool punk, even if it’s old junk”, we all had our preferences and opinions. But everybody- everybody- loved Prince. Prince was our common ground.

When A Prince song came on at a school dance, everybody got out there and everybody loved it. There were a lot of musicians, bands, and pop stars that marked our generation, but at least for us Minneapolis kids, Prince was, in a very real way the one that brought us together. From “Little Red Corvette” to “Cream” he was with us all along. As we ventured into adulthood he remained. He was ours and we were his. We all had our favorites (mine being Billy Joel, of course), and for some it indeed was Prince, but regardless of your favorite, he was the constant.

Mayor Betsy Hodges said it well: “His music brought untold joy to people all over the world. But in Minneapolis, it is different. It is harder here. Prince was a child of our city…” In a very real way, for those of who grew up in Minneapolis in the 70s and 80s, Thursday was the day the music died. Thanks for all it, Prince. And to those who actually knew him and called him dear, may the grace, peace, and comfort the spirit meet you in your grief.

We laughed, we bathed, were lived underneath the purple rain, but sometimes it snows in April. 

 

On Sunday in worship we made our attempt at Purple Rain as our postlude:

What is the BelgianFriar?

9e22d48300abb9414e4142bcbbc7005eThe Belgian what? What is “The Belgian Friar”? Well, the BelgianFriar isn’t a what it’s a who, and in no way do I mean any disrespect to actual Belgians nor actual Friars (neither of which am I). I am Belgian in that I have a not-so-well known and hard to pronounce last name (Baudhuin), which is Belgian. So in that sense I am Belgian, but let’s be honest: All I really am is an American with a conglomerate of Western European genes. And in no way shape or form am I a friar. I am, however, a Licensed Local Pastor in the Minnesota Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. As I was pursuing credentials in the UMC and going to our annual conference gatherings, I became slightly
amused by all the different orders and people’s interest and sometimes obsessions with
them. “What track are you on?” was on honest question, and I always wanted to respond, “uh, the friar track”. I do have deep respect for the actual friar order in the Roman Catholic church, but it just seemed to amusing to me to answer that way.

10553665_10204193187171998_6702060587819749606_oIn 2009 I entered the Twittersphere, and it asked me what I wanted my handle to be. There was an endless array of opportunities, but it came quickly; “Well, I’m the Belgian Friar.” So “@belgianfriar” it was. From there it has simply become a little bit of an online identity for me. Prior to that I had a blog called “Black Coffee”, but I’ve completely fallen away from it, and I am in a very different place now then I was when I created “Black Coffee’ (another story for another day), so I decided to start all over in the blogosphere and create “BelgianFriar.com”. All of that is to say that is why call myself the “BelgianFriar”. In no way do I intend any offense to actual Belgians and actual Friars. My intent is more of an homage. I hope you enjoy my random, not always put together so well, musings.