Beloved:

    Yesterday a Facebook friend who’s always posting something hilarious wrote,  

                                  “In history class, you thought, ‘If I was alive then, I would have  . . . .’  
                                   You're alive now.  What you're doing is what you would have done.”  

    He might have been a preacher instead of a comedian, crystallizing my spiritual angst and showing me the path to freedom in three tiny sentences.   

    On the one hand, American life is changing almost more rapidly than I change clothes.  Definitely more rapidly than I change my bedsheets!  We are assailed on every side to normalize prejudice, rename it as security, and hope life might go on as usual.

    On the other hand, the call of Christ holds constant:  love our neighbors . . . . welcome the stranger . . . . care for the poor . . . . do not be afraid . . . . . . do not be afraid . . . . . . . do not be afraid.  And above all else, Do Not Be Afraid.  I find no words of Christ more difficult to obey.  Fear comes - rises - without my bidding.  My brain can instantly rationalize it into some other far less stressful shape and story.  Then, as an explanation offered to which others will agree, I find myself feeling even less afraid.  But in my heart of hearts I know:  this is not courage, only fear driven deeper down.   
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    But what if we knew, as surely as we know that we love our children, that fear is just a part of being human ~ like taste buds and tear ducts?  Fear helps us thrive in the world by recognizing danger so we can choose the proper course:  flight or fight.

    The joys of life in Christ are these:  Jesus’ admonition not to be afraid is not His only gift.  In the Christ event we have nothing to fear.  Death has no hold on us.  We’ve no personal rights to defend, since we gave them all away in exchange for Christ.  We live by faith, and with faith comes the God-given capacity for courage.  And while fear may be a feeling, courage isn’t.  Courage is a behavior.  Courage is the obedient choice to see the truth however scary it may be to look upon and name it for the evil or the danger that it is, and then to follow Jesus accordingly.
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    Also this, friends:  no person, community or country ever thrived by wishing the danger wasn’t dangerous.  That it is not at my own door does not relieve me from Christian duty for a single second.   But rather, that Christian duty calls me all the more into step with those who wish to follow Jesus, where and as He goes in this world today. 

Beloved:
   
​A crocodile smiled at me in Costa Rica, and I literally felt my heart being pulled back together as I walked down a street in Washington, D.C.  I spent nearly every minute of every day of the last two weeks with my best friend.  All of which is to say I had a wonderful vacation, I’m grateful for the time away, and glad to be home.     
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If there is an Eden this side of the globe, it is surely Costa Rica.  Christopher Columbus named it the rich coast.  But Incas, Mayan and Aztecs were there long before him.  I wonder if they had a word for verdant or if they just called it home.  I saw lots of monkeys and lizards and, weirdly, raccoons.  

​There was a locust as big as my hand ​who became a red bird when it flew.  It’s summer time there but not so hot at the coast, always sunny and breezy.  I got sunburned and mosquito bitten and ate star fruit, pineapple and cantaloupe every day.  I also ate gallo pinto for my breakfast and loved it so much I found the recipe and am still eating it every morning.*   
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I could go on forever about Costa Rica but there’s also Washington.  We drove nine hours Friday, stood and walked nine hours Saturday, then drove 9 hours again on Sunday.  My body was worn through but my spirit had wings.  Never before Saturday have I felt so profoundly convinced that human beings working together for a righteous cause can overcome any obstacle.  It was a long day of standing, listening, waiting, taking turns and letting others go first in order for everyone to move forward.  Not once in nine hours did I hear a harsh word or see an unkind gesture.  People who brought chairs gave them up for others nearby.  People shared water, coats, snacks.  People waited in line for trains for two or three hours.  Every race of people.  Every age of people.  Every combination of family.  Police and national guard officers were cheerful and helpful.  People there for other events were treated kindly by marchers and vice versa.  
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In the most close-up, without-a-doubt way I saw and heard that the division and nastiness on the news is not on the street.  Nor need it be, because we decide what goes on here, in our neighborhoods and towns.  I’ve never been so proud of my country nor so ready to do my part to direct the future.
                                                                                                                                                                                                          
I’m cooking Wednesday Supper tomorrow:  turkey tortellini soup (with and without turkey, of course), crudités, yeast rolls, lemon bars for dessert.  I miss you, so I hope you’ll come and see me.

* My favorite is heating up a bowl of it and mixing in a scrambled egg, some tomatillo sauce and a smidge of Greek yogurt.

Beloved:

    I love this time of year, when all my Christmas stuff is put away and the treats and goodies are stale enough to feed to chickens.  Usually I settle in for winter but this year I’m going on vacation.  The kind that requires eight days’ worth of sunscreen!  But I’m taking my warmest coat and mittens because we (Carl and I) are returning via Washington D.C. so we can attend the Women’s March on Washington on January 21st.  I thought I’d use this space to tell you why I’m going.

    I am a Christian, a pastor and an American.  The three are as tangled together as yarn the cat got.  I know, without a shadow of doubt, that the purpose of my life is to follow Jesus; to go as he goes, speak as he speaks, do as he does.  While the scriptures are informative, my living relationship with Jesus is the primary teacher of this discipleship.  I am accountable to Him in all things and above all others.  When and where the laws and rules of the world do not interfere with discipleship, I’ve no conflicts of obedience.  When worldly laws and rules do interfere, discipleship begs for conformity to Christ alone.  I am also a pastor, a representative of the institutional church in this time and place – one voice from within that institution, bearing public witness to the Christian gospel as it comments on world events.  The church’s pallid history of speaking truth to power need not also be our future.  As an American I have the guaranteed freedom and security to speak my objections to the ruling power.  To be led by Christ to speak truth to power, and then squander the freedom to do so, is to violate my own soul on all three counts:  Christian, pastor and citizen.

    So, I am going to Washington to speak this truth to power:  Jesus requires me to love my neighbor.   

    Jesus requires me to welcome strangers.  Jesus requires me to care for the poor.  Jesus requires me to make peace with my enemies.  Jesus forbids me not only to kill my enemies but to hate them in my heart.  Washington is like an altar call at the end of church.  I’m going down front to make a public promise I cannot back out of later, should loving my neighbor become illegal or caring for the poor become expensive to me personally.  And most of all, should hating the people whose opinions I hate threaten to overwhelm me.  Strange as it sounds to my own heart, I think Jesus wants me to go for me most of all.  I hope you’ll pray for me.