Remember you are dust

Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return; words murmured quietly amidst shuffling feet down the center aisle of the sanctuary, an abrupt reminder at the end of winter's darkness that death is inevitable.  What seems to be the focus of of Ash Wednesday, the "dust you shall return" part.  But try as we might, mortality is a concept we rarely grasp until we find ourselves face to face with it.  While it is an indisputable fact, few of us really are able to live in a way in which we are truly cognizant of our impending end on any sort of a regular basis.  In fact, if one could live in constant conscious awareness of their own mortality, one might say they are paranoid and focusing on the inevitable, but unpredictable instead of living in the moment.

So what about the present?  Because there's a first part to "and to dust you shall return" and it's in present tense.  "Remember you are dust".  Dust not when you're buried in the ground, but dust now.  Remember, you are dust.

Adam: the dust man.
the LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.  Gen 2:7

 Because life started with dust too.  God, creating with world with breath, speaking it into existence took dust, seemingly nothingness and breathed life into it.  We are nothing but dust, not only in the future, but today.  Nothing but dust, dust filled with God-breath.  And that breath is what makes all the difference between dust and life.

 So perhaps instead of focusing on death on Ash Wednesday, it is a time to remember that we would have no life, were it not for the breath of God, the only thing that makes us more than dust.  It is because we were breathed into.  It's because of God's spirit blown into us that animates us and creates us into who we are.  So every step, every act, every breath, is only possible because God decided to put a little bit of himself in each of us, and that's what gives us life.  Each breath we take in and let out is only possible because God first opened our lungs and said I create you, and you are good.  So perhaps we need to remember, not so much that we die, but that we live each day with the divine spirit coursing through our bodies.  That the ruach, the spirit of God, the breath of the creator of all is found in each of us.  We would be nothing except that God exhaled and called us his own.

So perhaps our ashen cross should remind us not necessarily of our impending death, but that we are nothing but dust, dust that has had life breathed into it by the grace of the One who created the universe.  Dust that would be nothing save for the exhalation of God-spirit into our bodies.  We are nothing except that God put his own spirit into us and then said we are good.  So we face each day remembering we are vessels, full of the same breath that hovered over the chaos, that formed words and brought light into darkness, that spoke the world into being.  We are merely dust filled with God breath, but that makes all the difference, because it's the one thing that makes us more, that makes us alive; the fact that we have God in us. 

Embers by Night

When I started the assignment process, the process one goes through in my denomination to receive your first call as a pastor of a congregation having just completed seminary, I was told that it can feel like you’re wandering in the wilderness.  The Israelites wandered for 40 years with God guiding them in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. 

Since then, I’ve learned a lot about wandering.  At the beginning you think you can do it.  Fresh on the promise of God to lead to the promised land, it’s no wonder the Israelites left Egypt.  But how quickly things change.  The Israelites were ready to give up in no time.  I’m starting to understand where they’re coming from.  As the journey presses on you learn that it’s tiring.  Wandering, never sure where it is you’re headed or even when you’ll get there exhausts you in ways you never thought possible.  It’s a fatigue of the heart.   Not knowing where to go, or what fork in the road to take, the landscape starts to look the same.  Landmarks seem to repeat themselves and you wonder if you’re going in circles, or perhaps if you made a mistake in beginning the journey.  Doubt begins to become paralyzing. 

 Weariness sets in and hope seems almost too distant to grasp.  For me, in this wandering, just when I’m about to give up, there has been a flicker of promise, a flash of sustenance, a delivery of manna that gives me the strength to keep going one more day.  But that’s the thing about manna—just enough.  No more.  The Israelites were told to gather only enough for one day, to trust that God would send more.  I can see why they struggled.  When you’ve been wandering for a while, at the end of what you think you can survive, the fear of starvation, of withering away from a lack of hope is palpable.  How hungry I am for more sustenance.   How much I wish I controlled the portions. 

I don’t know what it was like for the Israelites, but I find that as days turn to weeks and weeks to months in this wandering, day doesn’t seem come very often and darkness presses in heavy. When I began this journey I felt as though I could breathe in the tiny droplets from the cloud by day, the moisture seeping into me and smell the smoke of the fire by night.  God’s presence was intimate and immediate.  I never imagined that I’d still be wandering, seemingly no closer to the end than when I started.  The light of day is gone and I grope for the fire by night.

Though God never abandoned the Israelites during their wandering, I wonder if they lost sight of him.  When you’re truly lost and wandering it can seem like no one is leading, it can seem like you’re on this journey in isolation.  It can seem as though God is so distant.  I feel as if I can’t see where I’m going and the cloud and fire that once hung so close have vanished from my sight.  How I yearn for the heat from pillar of fire, that my cheek might be warm to the touch from the blaze.  How I ache deep down for my eyes to burn from the smoke.  It seems all I glimpse are embers, faintly glowing against a cold darkness.  I wait for them to catch fire, but tongues of flame never emerge.  Regardless of culture, it appears to be human nature to put our hands together to attempt to generate some warmth.  And so in the faint glow barely visible amidst my wandering in the wilderness, I’m learning to clasp my hands together over the embers, intertwining my fingers in prayer as I wait for the breath of God to blow the embers into a flicker that I might feel just a tiny rush of warmth, the promise that the wandering doesn’t last forever.  Though the pillar of fire is not visible to me in this cold, harsh wilderness where embers just faintly glowing orange against a black backdrop, I continue walking, hands clasped, holding fast to one truth; though I may not be able to see it now, the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it.  

Living Landmark

We rarely rejoice over stumbling blocks.  They seem to be something negative, put in our way that diverts us from the path we intended.  While to me, the first stumbling blocks mentioned in scripture may change our course, they are grace rather than burden. In Joshua 4 the Israelites finally walk across the riverbed of the Jordan to enter the promised land.  At the moment that has been forty years in the making Joshua instructs members of each tribe to collect rocks.

8 So the Israelites did as Joshua commanded them. They took twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, as the LORD had told Joshua; and they carried them over with them to their camp, where they put them down. 9 Joshua set up the twelve stones that had been in the middle of the Jordan at the spot where the priests who carried the ark of the covenant had stood. And they are there to this day.

21 He said to the Israelites, “In the future when your descendants ask their parents, ‘What do these stones mean?’ 22 tell them, ‘Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground.’ 23 For the LORD your God dried up the Jordan before you until you had crossed over. The LORD your God did to the Jordan what he had done to the Red Sea[b] when he dried it up before us until we had crossed over. 24 He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful and so that you might always fear the LORD your God.”

They laid down rocks in their new home for one purpose; to invite questions.  In the hope that someone might come so close as to almost trip on them and be forced to ask the meaning behind these rocks.  The goal was to create something that stands out in the midst of the normal landscape of life that would drive others to curiosity so that they must ask.  Then those who knew could answer and tell about a mighty God.  The river rocks were put there to trigger the questions so that God’s story might be told. 

 I firmly believe that God puts these sort rocks in our lives.  People plunked down in the middle of our journey, so different, that we would have to ask what makes them they way they are.   What is it that causes their lives and actions to be such a stark contrast from the landscape around them?  And in wanting to know, in the asking, we would hear their story, but more importantly, God’s story, about their own molding and shaping in the waters of their baptism, like stones being polished in the Jordan.

We burn with curiosity about what makes them the way they are only to find out that it’s not so much a what, as a who.  They are certain of their identity in God and their lives stand as a living landmark telling the story of God’s work. 

Sometimes God places these people so squarely in our path that we can’t help but stumble over them.  For these ones I have known whose lives begged the questions that taught me about a God who is mighty and active in this world, a God who wants us to ask and seek and desires that we know His story so well that we live and breathe it, for these, I am so grateful that I have stumbled upon them.  I can only pray that because of them and God’s work in me, my life may be one of these rocks as well that for others begs the questions that lead to life in Christ.

Wide Awake

“Shhh.  Everyone be quiet as we go into the sanctuary.”  It was a message these kids had heard dozens of times in practicing for their Christmas pageant.  As a gifted preschool teacher corralling 12 excited 4 year olds, who could blame her for reminding then to keep their voices down.  “Remember, this is God’s house,” I could hear her say from my office across the hall as delicate voices whispered and tiny shoes shuffled by my doorway, a few little heads with big grins peeking in to see if I was there. 

Not long after, I found myself leading this same group into the sanctuary to learn about Easter.  We all headed up to the front to look at the church decorated in white and to examine the symbols that remind us of our new life in Christ.  “Boys and girls, keep your voices down” I heard myself saying to the raucous group ambling up the center aisle.   Just then I felt a slight tug at my pant leg as I took another step forward on the worn carpet heading up to the cross.  I looked down to see a pair of hazel eyes excitingly staring up at me.  She was brimming with some new-found revelation, her mouth barely able to contain in her discovery for the second it took me to turn toward her.  Beaming, she proudly announced what she had just figured out.  “We have to be quiet in God’s house,” she said slowly, “because God is sleeping, right?” anticipating great praise for this connection she had made.  And who could blame her?  What other logical conclusion might a four-year-old draw?  I smiled weakly, masking the sharp pain I felt hit my heart as the words echoed deep inside.  God is sleeping.  As I looked back at her, I heard these words pounding inside me: “He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep”, this promise of scripture washing over me. 

And had we told her God was sleeping?  In our calm, collected, and organized attempts to introduce her to the living God by instilling in her heart the story of the God-man come down, by bringing her forward to the altar to see the cross, that rugged instrument through which the whole world would be changed, had we somehow taught her that God was busy, that God couldn’t be bothered by the squeaky voices of preschoolers?  Had we told her that the temple of the Lord was quiet, musty and only reserved for those who are well behaved? God’s house where Hannah wailed and cried out, where Zechariah boldly questioned the messenger Gabriel, where Simeon praised God mightily, clutching the tiny messiah in his arms.  Had we unknowingly implied that the God of Israel, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the Alpha and the Omega was of all things… asleep?

Oh how crystal clear was the message she heard reflected up at me that day with fingers clenched on the seam of my pant leg.  How plainly she had interpreted that message; the message I never intended to preach, that the sanctuary was a place for well behaved people because God couldn’t be bothered by things like giggles, loud voices or pretend airplane noises.  And I wondered, had there been others?  What else had I taught them unknowingly, unintentionally?

 One of the gifts of children is their ability to hear us even when we are not speaking, to perceive our theology as we talk of nothing more than walking in a straight line, to hear God-talk when we think we speak only of basic directions.  It is a gift, a precious treasure that they are able to see God woven so plainly woven into the tapestry of every day life as we adults too often struggle to connect to God in those everyday moments.  But this keen sense means that we, as adults, are always preaching.  Through our words, our actions, and the simple moments when we think we aren’t even talking about God--we are.  We are preaching, because these children, the ones Jesus invites so boldly to come to him, haven’t separated theology from everything else.  They haven’t divided God talk from earthly talk.  Their world and their faith is uncompartmentalized.   For them, God is inseparable from creation and inseparable from every day moments.  Because of that, as church leaders everything we do, everything we ask them to do, in their mind, is directly related to who God is.  And isn’t that the way it should be?  Isn’t that life as God intended it?  Everything we do, everything we are, flowing from God? 

And so, we are always telling God’s story.  From the simplest of moments giving instructions to the lessons and sermons we prepare for hours, we are sharing about God.  A God who is tangibly present in every moment, a God who is wide awake, who never sleeps, who is active and working in our world, drawing us to Him and sending us out to serve in a never ending cycle of worship and mission, a holy sequence of seeking God in the temple and seeing God in the world.  A God who loves us just as we are, not only our best-behaved selves.  We are preaching to these young ones in every moment, and what we preach matters, because at this young and precious age there is no difference between talking about God and getting ready to talk about God.   And how beautiful is that?  As we reached the front of the sanctuary, I gathered them in around me, drawing them close, because I had something important to tell them.  “Boys and girls”, I begin, drawing in a deep breath, and slowly exhaling, “what does it mean to you to be wide awake?” I ask; a poignant reminder to myself that, especially with these young ones, every waking moment is testimony.

I Knew You

In Jeremiah, we learn that God’s design for His children begins even before their birth.  God says, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you” (Jer. 1:5).  If we believe this promise, then faith formation is something to consider even before birth. 

Family ministry efforts usually begin a pivotal moments or milestones in faith formation.  We engage parents at baptisms or baby dedications, when a child starts Sunday School, when a child is presented with a Bible or a variety of other built-in moments when it is easy to engage families.  However, by the time these moments come along, routines and habits are already engrained for many families.  Amidst the hectic life of child rearing, initiating new family faith practices can seem daunting. 

One need only imagine the sleep deprived lives of parents of a 2 month old, a common time for baptisms or baby dedications, to recognize that this is probably not the moment when parents are in a place to thoughtfully structure their efforts for their child’s faith formation.  They are tired, overwhelmed and quiet time to reflect is a distant memory.  Yet just a few months before, these parents were filled with anticipation and eager to prepare in every way possible for the birth of their child.  

 The evidence is clear that parents’ role in faith formation is unmatched.  Why not take advantage of the time before a child arrives to come alongside expectant parents and help them to prepare for their child’s formation as a disciple?  We in children’s ministry have the opportunity to help families start off on the right foot creating rituals and traditions from the beginning that form faith.  We can help parents understand that they have a crucial role in passing on the faith to their children even before they begin to bring them to church sponsored activities like Sunday School or VBS.  We can let parents know that they can instill values and faith habits in their child as early as infancy. 

Undoubtedly, expectant parents are already dreaming about the kind of life they hope to offer they child.  They are imagining how that child will grow.  Help them to explore the ways that they want to instill faith in their child from birth through young adulthood. 

Most parents in our churches readily agree that teaching faith to their child is a priority, yet so many admit that they aren’t sure how to do it.  We as church leaders can equip them with the tools and instill in them the confidence they need for this often daunting task at a time in their life when they are filled with dreams, hopes and expectations.  We can help them put in place the goals and routines from the beginning.

Think about offering a class or small group for expectant parents and guide them as they imagine the routines, priorities, beliefs and traditions they hope to instill in their child.  Teach them about faith development and encourage them to pray for the faith of their child.  Provide activities for reflection and action.  For example, give parents the opportunity to write letters to their child to be shared when the child is older expressing how they hope they will seek God in all of their decisions.  Allow the parents to pick a Bible verse that they hope will guide their child and create a piece of decoration for the nursery with that verse.  Present them with a journal and encourage them to write prayers in it that can one day be presented to their child.  Encourage parents to think about how they might incorporate family devotions into their weekly schedule.

Young children learn a lot through routines and traditions.  Not only does repetition make them feel comfortable, but it gives them confidence and some ownership of their daily activities.  Help parents to create faith forming routines that can grow with the child such as a bedtime routine.  As an infant this may be singing a hymn as the child goes to sleep.  As they grow, the parents may read out of a child’s story Bible and teach them a prayer.  Every family’s routine will look different, but the key is to give parents the time and space to pray about and develop the methods to help their child’s faith grow.  Practicing faith will then be part of their child’s life from the very beginning, just as God knew that child before he or she was even born.

            Putting the groundwork in place before the chaos of a new baby begins will set the family up for success and help the parents fell empowered as a critical part of their child’s faith development.  These groups or classes can also connect couples together with to other expectant parents who have the same hopes and dreams for their child’s faith.  This support network can help parents to feel that they are not alone in practicing faith with their child at home.  The families that meet before their children are born can continue to encourage each other and share ideas as their children grow up.   

At a time when parents are filled with dreams, what better thing could be do as ministry professionals than provide an opportunity for them to dream of the ways that their new family can share faith together.