“I threw the world away…”

hands throwing globe

Recently I was playing catch with my 6-year-old granddaughter. She was using a ball with a map of the world stamped on it.

As is often the case with youngsters, the rules of the game are flexible and quick to change, along with the number of participants. At one point, the rule became that the ball could not touch the ground as we tossed it back and forth.

When it did, Ladybug decided she was out of the game…but one of the other participants tossed the ball back to her. As it came towards her, she said, “I threw the world away…but someone threw it back to me.”

That’s a simple phrase, but it also struck me as quite a profound one.

How many times have I thrown the world away because I’ve been mad at somebody or something?

How many times have we thrown the world away…because of our lack of care for her? because we decided that what we wanted was more important? because we didn’t know better?

And how many times has someone thrown it back to us for another chance?

I’m grateful that someone has cared enough to give me another chance…has cared enough to give all of us another chance. But I also find myself wondering…how many more times can we throw the world away before someone quits throwing it back to us?

 

 

“Miracle at Midnight”

We watched “Miracle at Midnight” on Disney+ last night…and I had trouble sleeping.

Told basically through the eyes of one family, it’s the story of the rescue of the Danish Jews in 1943 after plans were made for mass arrests and deportations beginning at midnight on the start of Rosh Hashana. It’s an incredible story–and resulted in the survival of 99% of the Danish Jews.

It’s a Disney movie…so while there is violence that is an integral part of the story, the violence was not what kept me awake.

No, what kept my mind stirred up were questions of how I would have reacted. Would I have had the courage this family (and the many other families) did? To have risked the lives of my loved ones in order to shelter someone I didn’t know?

I hope so.

In some cases they were friends…neighbors…business associates…teachers. But in many cases, they were strangers–taken in because that was the right thing to do.

They weren’t demonized as faceless “others.” It didn’t matter that they believed or worshiped differently. They were part of the community.

Those who took the Jews in and hid them until they could be moved to safety did so because they believed in living out their faith. They took to heart the words in their sacred scriptures (Matthew 25:35-36):

I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.

Could I have done the same? Can I?

 

Following Jesus … no turning back

Something I’ve been thinking about for myself and all of us who claim Christianity…

Jesus said “Follow me.” Not just when it’s convenient…or easy…or when everyone else agrees.

He said “Love your neighbor.” Not just when they’re easy to love…or when they’re the same background / race / religion / ethnicity / gender identity…

He said “Take up your cross…and follow me.” Sometimes I don’t want to follow him–because I know it may lead to persecution…or death. Sometimes I don’t want to follow him because I want my life to be easy. I want to get along with all the people around me.

But if I say I am a follower of Jesus…if I claim the mantle of Christianity…then I am called to challenge the status quo…to stand up for and with the marginalized…to speak out against injustice and violence…no matter what.

There’s a song in my denomination’s hymnal that goes like this:

I have decided to follow Jesus (x3);
no turning back, no turning back.

Though none go with me, still I will follow (x3);
no turning back, no turning back.

The world behind me, the cross before me (x3);
no turning back, no turning back.

The story goes that it was sung by a man in India who came to know Christ and left the head hunter tradition of his tribe. He was challenged to deny his faith or face execution. He stood firm–even though his wife and children were killed in front of him before he too was killed–and left this song as his testimony.

May it also be mine.

What about Mary?

This is the time of year when we hear the story of the birth of Jesus…the appearance of the shepherds…the magi…and sometimes on into the flight into Egypt. But what if we heard the story of the nativity from the perspective of Mary? What would it sound like? What would it look like?

What would it have felt like to ride on a donkey for 90 miles while 9 months pregnant? With the last couple of days feeling the twinges of early labor…and wondering when and where you were going to give birth?

Mary was separated from the circle of women she might have expected to be around her to support her in the birthing process…to assure her that things were going properly. Instead, she was surrounded by strangers–and in many ways, even her husband was still a stranger to her.

Most of the paintings and illustrations we see show her calm and serene, clean and with every hair in place, holding the baby right after the birth. But that’s not how it is. Any mother can tell you that’s not how it works! You’re exhausted…weepy…sweaty…and exhilarated. But you’re certainly not feeling or looking your best…

Nor are you ready for visitors…especially not strangers, dirty, unkempt. Strangers who come with a story of a visit by angels telling them to come find your child. Who are they? and what do they want?

I imagine that all Mary really wanted to do was to lie back and try to get the new baby to nurse…and then to sleep.

I wonder what she felt like when Joseph came to her later and told her that they had to leave quickly and flee into a different country because an angel had told him that the child was in danger? She had just gotten used to being in a strange place–and now they had to leave again?

So what if we saw a real nativity scene? What if we saw Mary as a real person? What if we saw Mary and Joseph as a real couple…who undoubtedly had some arguments about what they needed to do…about how to raise this child…who were doing their best but who probably still didn’t understand how this was all going to turn out.

What if we saw the baby as a real baby…who nursed…and pooped…and cried…and drove his parents crazy at times?

Would that change anything?

I wonder…

 

Santa…it’s not just a job…

Santa and Mrs ClausI know a wonderful man who has been a mall Santa Claus for the last 15 years. That’s a lot of time–and a lot of people!

Occasionally someone derides what he does or–worse–complains that by doing so, he’s ruining the spirit of Christmas. They don’t really know what happens…

Yes, for some folks, being Santa is just a job. But others find ways for it to be a ministry as well. Not a ministry of conversion…but a ministry of caring. Charlie’s had a number of those experiences.

He  encouraged a young teenage boy who was going to be going to court for something (Santa didn’t ask–didn’t need to know). He was concerned that he had really messed up–but Santa told him he believed in him…that he could turn his life around. And when he left the Santa set, his heart was lighter and he had confidence in himself.

He has given hope to children whose parents were not with them–either in prison or overseas in the military.

He has brought smiles to the faces of sick children in hospital.

He has shared Santa joy with senior citizens who have never had a chance to visit Santa before.

He has had pictures taken with parents bringing their new babies home and wanting something to commemorate that joy.

And this year, he had a young boy ask him to pray for someone with leg injuries the boy had seen at another store.

Those experiences don’t happen every day–nor do they happen with every Santa. But the best ones–in my opinion–provide a ministry that expresses the joy and hope of the season.

Thanks – giving

Many of us in the United States will gather with friends and family this weekend to celebrate and give thanks. There is much good in doing that.

But I also wonder…

What about those who do not have friends and family to celebrate with? They might be estranged for a number of reasons…

What about those who cannot be home because they are working…as first responders… as military personnel who are trying to keep people and countries safe…as medical (and other) personnel who are working to bring healing to people in hospitals…?

What about those who are mourning the death of a loved one?

Or those who wonder where their next meal will come from?

What about those who still suffer from the effects of the racism and colonization that underlaid the first “Thanksgiving” celebration on this continent? This is not a weekend of celebration for many of them.

We do need to find times and ways to give thanks…to count blessings…to rejoice in friends and family (whether that is family of origin or family of choice).

But we also need to be sensitive to those for whom this weekend is a difficult time.

So while I will give thanks this weekend, I will also acknowledge that there is much work to do to bring reconciliation and healing so that all may find a way and time to give thanks.

The worth of all persons…

One of the Enduring Principles of my faith tradition is expressed this way: Worth of All Persons. These points help expand on its meaning…

  • God views all people as having inestimable and equal worth.
  • God wants all people to experience wholeness of body, mind, spirit, and relationships.
  • We seek to uphold and restore the worth of all people individually and in community, challenging unjust systems that diminish human worth.
  • We join with Jesus Christ in bringing good news to the poor, sick, captive, and oppressed.

That sounds easy, doesn’t it? Easy to say…but maybe not as easy to live out.

If I truly believe that all persons are of worth, that includes

  • People I disagree with politically.
  • People who are of a different culture or religion.
  • People who have hurt me.
  • People I am afraid of.
  • People of a different color.
  • People I love.

It means ALL.

That also means

  • I cannot support separating children from their parents with no plans on how to reunite them–simply because their families are seeking a safe place and a hopeful future.
  • The homeless person I see on the corner is deserving of my willingness to make eye contact with them…and to put aside my judgmental attitude.
  • I need to support help and shelter for the mentally ill and those unable to take care of themselves.
  • I am called to uphold in prayer even those I have major disagreements with.
  • When I see injustice, I need to call people and policies to accountability–even if that is uncomfortable or unpopular.
  • I need to learn more about other cultures, countries’ histories, and faith traditions in order to understand today’s world.

If I truly believe that, it will change how I interact with others…with how I live…with policies I support. And I have to decide to make that a priority in my life.

But if I am truly going to follow the One whose name I claim, I cannot do anything else.