God is Not Done

1 Kings 19:4-8

John 6:35, 41-51

Poor Elijah is surely in a bad place today.

We know this to be so because he says so. We also know this is so because of things he has done just prior to our encounter with him at this point in the narrative.

Just before this, he has received the message that Jezebel, his adversary, is seeking his life. And he responds in a way that seems downright surprising to anyone who has followed his ministry just prior to this news which terrified him. I mean, in the stories just told he has only known success. But now? 

He is heard to have dismissed his servant --- a sure sign that he is done with the ministry to which he had been called.

He is also said to have traveled a day's journey into the wilderness --- again, indicating that he is abandoning Yahweh's People.

When we meet up with him, Elijah has settled under a solitary broom tree and has announced he is done. Done with all of it. Done not only with his ministry but also done with his life.

It's hard to figure, yes, and at least to our way of thinking, the story doesn't give us nearly enough to go on. Indeed, for all of our guesses as to Elijah's psychological state, we really aren't told. And yet, it is a fair guess to say that exhaustion and now sheer terror have just caught up with him. And Elijah is just done.

Only God is not done with Elijah. And he lets Elijah know this by sending him a meal. Because without the strength that comes with eating, Elijah surely is done. And without the strength that comes with eating this particular meal from God's own hand? Elijah surely could not have done what needed to be done next. Or at least that's what the angel says. Without eating, this particular journey would simply be too much.

Perhaps at one time or another you have found yourself exactly where Elijah found himself. Oh, I would venture to say that our ministerial 'successes' pale in comparison to his and most of us have not lived under the death threats of our adversaries. Even so. I have certainly heard plenty of pastors wondering what else they could do with this particular degree. No doubt this is true for all of us, regardless of what work calls us.

Oh yes, it is so that more than once, I've found myself skimming the 'want ads' --- or today's equivalent --- and wondering what life would look like if I weren't doing this. And yes, it is so that in a very real way some time ago I wandered "a day's journey into the wilderness"... not giving up on life, no, but trying to distance myself from the beating down exhaustion of pastoral ministry.

It did not present as 'wandering,' of course. In fact, I certainly did not consciously think of it in that way at the time. Rather, to my way of thinking, it made perfect sense when I first ventured out 'into the wilderness.' It promised to be a good use of my gifts. Only, it turns out, not a good enough use of all that I been blessed with for living in this world where I have been placed. For once the first blush of 'freedom' passed, I found myself in a place which was not life-giving. And I was amazed at how quickly I found myself cut off from community I had counted on. More than that, I was amazed at how quickly depression set in. For I had given up a lot  --- a call to a wonderful congregation and, at least temporarily, my "roster status in my denomination" --- to take this "walk into the wilderness." And I found myself experiencing a profound sense of shame that this was not turning out as I had hoped. And at first I truly did not know how to find my way back.

Not unlike Elijah, I felt as though I was 'done.' But it turns out God was not done with me yet.

It came to me in this way. A friend of a friend had asked how I was. She was told that this new work was not all I expected it to be. And she said, 'You tell Janet she needs to start writing again.'

I wept when this message was relayed to me, truly I did. For I did not believe I had anything left to say.
 

In that wilderness of my own choosing, I had not had enough to 'eat' for a very long time. Not enough in terms of community. Not enough in terms of opportunity to exercise my best gifts. As a result, not enough 'pressing reason' to dig deep into and 'feast on' the best God yearned to give me. Yes, some of this was the result of my own foolish choices. Either way, I had not had enough.

Now, no,  my story was not exactly like Elijah's encounter with the angel. Elijah was told to get up and eat actual food. And yet, for people of faith --- at least this is how it has been for me --- the ability and freedom to engage with the Bread of Life, to take it into myself, and to somehow share it with others --- well, this is life. It is what makes this journey possible. More than that, I have found it is what makes this journey worth traveling at all. Perhaps I should have been able to find a way to do this in the place where I was --- even as perhaps Elijah 'should' have been able to figure this out on his own. But we don't always. Sometimes we have to have someone hand us the food. Sometimes, as was the case with me, someone has to issue a challenge to point us in the right direction.

Indeed, after a few days of despair. After some hours of believing I was 'done' with nothing left to say or to share, that is when I started writing in this way: for and with and alongside all of you who read and respond to 'Dancing with the Word.' And as I wrote. As I feasted again on the Bread of Life, I was led out of the wilderness again.

I was done. I truly was. But just was so with Elijah, God was not done. And that has been everything. Indeed, that is everything.

• Have you ever found yourself where Elijah found himself? What is your story? Why were you 'done?' 
• Has someone ever literally handed you 'bread to eat' so that you might keep moving in the direction to which you were called? Who was that for you? How did you learn God was not yet 'done' with you?
• This part of Elijah's story speaks of actual bread. The Gospel speaks of the Bread of Life which is Jesus. How is it that we feast on this Bread of Life? Is the Bread of Life actual bread? Is this Bread also something more? What do you think?
• My story is that of an individual realizing "God is not done." How have you seen this to be so for congregations or communities? Again, what is your story?

"The Boy Next Door: On Another Senseless Shooting"

John 6:35, 41-51

In the avalanche of news about yet another mass shooting in our country --- this one in a Sikh Temple south of Milwaukee ---  I find my mind and heart automatically travel back.

For you see, it happened here in my community not that long ago.

A heavily armed gunman entered a classroom leaving lifetimes of grief and suffering in his wake.

I will not ever forget that day turned into night turned into day again.

The call that came saying there had been a shooting.  The sound of sirens coming from all directions.  Hurrying back to church searching for news online.  Rejoicing to hear none of our own had been wounded or worse.  Pausing then in the sobering truth that others were not so fortunate.  Standing with students by candlelight on a cold February night outside the Lutheran Campus Ministry building.  Marveling to listen as a Jewish student voiced his grief in the ancient words of his faith.  Traveling late to the hospital and standing with one family huddled together as they received the unimaginable news that their daughter who had survived a tour in Iraq had been murdered in a college classroom in DeKalb, Illinois. Those images, those experiences flood back whenever the headline of another senseless shooting reaches me.

But the story that still touches my heart is this one:

A friend, a member of the congregation I was then serving, is the Director of Emergency Services at our community hospital.  While dozens and dozens of courageous people were about saving lives that day, her staff walked into some of the worst of it.  It was the end of the day --- or actually it was in the early morning hours of the next day.  The wounded had been tended and had gone home with families or sent on for surgery or other needed interventions.  But there were still six dead young people: five students and the gunman himself who had turned his ammunition on himself.  There were families waiting to see them, to make final identifications, to go deeper into the grief that was already gripping them.  One may not at first think of these things but Cindy did --- knowing that someone would need to clean up their bodies so as to at least ease in some small way the horror that was waiting their families.  And so she did. She said she didn't want her staff to carry those memories and so one by one she went into room after room after room and wiped away the blood from their wounds.  She did so for the shooter, too.  Later she said he looked like the boy next door...not some monster capable of inflicting such senseless suffering.

The boy next door.  As I remember that I find myself also thinking of those who were trying to make sense of who Jesus was in our Gospel lesson today.  For they saw him only as the 'boy next door.'  I expect it would not have occurred to them to look at Jesus and think of him as someone capable of great evil --- just as in the same way they looked at him and could not imagine he was somehow so very connected to the gifts of heaven itself.   They were inclined to simply dismiss him as just another like all the rest of them.  And I expect they were and are not alone... all too often we do still dismiss one another, unable to grasp the great potential and promise lying just beyond reach.  Perhaps we do that with Jesus, too ... especially in the face of such seemingly insurmountable problems.

For I say this in all truth.  I hear news of the kinds of shootings we hear of again in these last days ---- at a midnight showing of a movie in Colorado --- in a Sikh Temple outside of Milwaukee --- and a great sense of helplessness overcomes me.  As I have stood with those who grieve such senseless losses before, I find myself aching as I imagine the pain being felt by so many today.  And yet it seems to me there must be more than empathy for us to offer. Yes, even more than walking in and picking up the pieces and wiping up the blood to ease the suffering of those left behind in some small way.  And while you can probably imagine where I might stand on the whole gun control debate, if I can't change that, mustn't our faith, our following Jesus, still make some difference in all of this?

And maybe that difference is simply this.  Every one of those who grew up into those who would pack up an armory of weapons and ammunition and inflict such violence --- every one of them was someone's child, confirmation student, team member, student, next door neighbor.  So perhaps it simply comes down to this:  maybe I need to begin to take a second look at the boy, the girl next door. Maybe I need to begin to see all those I encounter --- in my office, at worship, at coffee hour, in the grocery line, at a high school football game, on the bike path, in the car next to mine at the stoplight ---maybe I need to see all those I encounter as those who hold all the potential in the world.  To SEE them, not with a heart made dull by indifference or quickened by fear but rather with a heart full of wonder, and curiosity and hope.  To see us all as bearing the very face of Jesus, for in fact we do.  And then to begin to act like this is so.

Now I am not so naive as to believe that my attention or my care alone can alter the path of the sort of insanity which results in the kinds of tragedies we have witnessed of late.  Still it might make a difference for one who could bring the gifts necessary to do so.  At the same time, I know that the stigma attached to mental illness still leads many families to live with it in heart-breaking silence.  Isn't it finally time to break that silence?  Indeed, what difference might it make if all of us made only a little more effort to reach out --- especially to those who make themselves distant?  Perhaps only one more effort might just lead to the intervention that could make a difference.  Or maybe, just maybe, all of our attention and care might together just lead to a whole culture doing what needs to be done so that never again will our neighbors and friends have to clean up the blood of those so senselessly killed.   So that never again will families need to live the nightmare of identifying the body of one shot by a stranger in a movie theater, a classroom, a place of worship. And yes, so that never again will another family have to live with the terrible knowledge that their own 'boy next door' did the unthinkable.

Indeed, in Jesus today we do encounter 'the boy next door.'  At least that is how many who first encountered him experienced him.  They thought since he was so much like them he could be and do nothing more than what might be expected of a carpenter's son.  As well as they thought they knew him, though, of course they didn't really know Jesus at all. For as you and I well know this 'boy next door?'  He was so much more than those gathered that day could have imagined.  For Jesus is the bread that comes down from heaven itself. His was the flesh that was given for the life of the world.  He was not one who would inflict violence, but who would receive it --- so that all the world might know life. And you and I who follow him?  We are called to be and do the same --- to share this bread, this hope, this promise, this life with all the world.  To see and care for one by one, those whose hands reach out to us in hunger and in sometimes faltering hope.  And to do so starting, it seems to me, right next door...

1. What does our faith call us to in response to such events as the shooting at a Sikh temple south of Milwaukee?
2. What difference are we called to make in a world where such violence happens all too frequently?
3. I am deeply aware that my proposals above appear to be so very small in the face of such huge challenges.  To be sure, 'one at a time' solutions are not enough.  Still, they are something. Can you see how simply encountering one another fully --- being in community for and with one another --- might make a difference?  Why or why not?  If not, what more might you suggest?

On Baking Bread and the Bread of Life

John 6:35, 41-51



I have been baking bread for as long as I can remember.

It was a regular occurrence at the home I grew up in: the aroma of fresh baked bread.

It was, I'm told, an even more regular happening in the home my mother grew up in back in the time when bread could not be bought as easily as it can be today.

My grandmother, whom I never knew, baked bread.  My mother baked bread. And so do I.

And while it's true my choices for baking are not as restricted as that of my grandmother --- who baked bread in the heart of the Great Depression --- so I'm told she always used water instead of milk.  While it is true that I love branching out and so have been nurturing a sour dough starter for a year and a half and lately am having

fun tending the sponge of a marvelous rye bread on the back of my stove --- While bread can be exotic, it's also pretty basic. All you finally need is flour, a little salt, yeast, water, and maybe a little sugar or other sweetener.  Patience and a decent oven help, too.  Still, all in all, bread is pretty ordinary.  Every culture enjoys some form of it.  In fact, I understand that for more than 6,000 years, people the world over have been baking bread.

And so it is that Jesus offers us today the image of bread as a way to better understand him.  Indeed, his first listeners wondered, too, at the ordinariness of the man whose message they had come to hear.  They wondered at who he thought he was --- this Jesus whose parents they knew so well.  They wondered how one so much like them in so many ways could begin to think of tying himself to heaven when he says, "I am the bread that came down from heaven."  Indeed, no doubt they wonder, too, how it is he can make such extraordinary claims about something so ordinary: claiming to be the bread which will satisfy hunger and quench thirst for all of time. 

It is how God always seems to work, of course.  Oh, there are plenty of extraordinary things which happen in the presence of Jesus, but in the end, God uses fairly ordinary means to reach us.  We experience this over and over again in many of Jesus' teachings.  Consider, for instance, his parables where he speaks of things like seeds and weeds and crops and vineyards and lost coins and travelers and families: all so very familiar to the people who first listened to what he had to say.  And today, of course, he brings to mind the nearly universal image and experience of bread. Indeed, God employs ordinary means to help us understand, embrace and rejoice in God's love for and intent for us all: including Jesus himself, whose childhood, no doubt mirrored those of his neighbors.  For of course, it is the ordinary we understand best.  And by God's wondrous gift, it is the ordinary which the Holy somehow permeates and makes new --- in always extraordinary ways..

Whenever I bake bread I do so remembering so many.  A grandmother I never knew and the large family she made sure were fed.  An aunt whose house always smelled of fresh baked bread whenever we dropped in.  My mother who taught us to knead and shape the loaves and who looked the other way when my sisters and I would playfully toss the dough to one another before placing it in the bowl to rise.  All these women: simply ordinary people finding life in a tradition which helped sustain life at their tables.  And of course, we are all so very privileged to think of Jesus, too, who compared himself to ordinary bread.  And in doing so gave his listeners something to chew on.  So that now all of our bread can speak to us of  the promise of so much more than something to sustain us today.

1. How does the image of Jesus as the Bread of Life speak to you? What stories of 'bread' make Jesus' words today all the more meaningful to you?
2. Why do you think some of his first listeners were not able to understand or embrace his teaching? Have your questions ever mirrored theirs?  Why or why not?
3. What other examples can you think of where God used ordinary means to reach God's beloved people?  Where have you experienced the gifts of God in the 'ordinary' in your life?