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“‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’”
— Jesus Christ, Matthew 25:41-45

“Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, ‘Out of Egypt I have called my son.'”
— Matthew 2:13-15

“It’s hypocrisy to call yourself a Christian and chase away a refugee or someone seeking help, someone who is hungry or thirsty, toss out someone who is in need of my help.  If I say, ‘I am Christian,’ but do these things, I’m a hypocrite.”
— Pope Francis

“Seek to help our brother and sister refugees in every possible way by providing a welcome…Show them an open mind and a warm heart…It is necessary to guard against the rise of new forms of racism or xenophobic behavior, which attempt to make these brothers and sisters of ours scapegoats for what may be difficult local situations.”
— Pope John Paul II

On the Statue of Liberty, the “Mother of Exiles,” about which we Americans so proudly speak, is a plaque inscribed with the words:

“Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

I’m not really sure there is much else to say about this.

Jesus himself (a brown-skinned, Palestinian Jew mind you) commands us to help the least of these. He himself was a refugee whose fled persecution from King Herod when he was a child.

Two recent Popes (J.P. II who was known as a conservative and Francis who is a liberal) have called out the importance of protecting immigrants and refugees. Even if you are not Catholic (and I’m not) this is a strong message and meaningful message, especially to Christians.

We are a nation of migrants, immigrants, and refugees. (We often think of the Pilgrims, who were precisely that, but they were just one of many groups of refugees.)

Our own monument calls for the most persecuted and wretched to come to our country.

Jesus calls us to help and serve all. No exceptions.

“The least of these,” He says. Not the ones you like, or find palatable, or who are from select countries, or those of a specific political persuasion. And certainly not just to those of your religion, denomination, sect.

Show Christ’s love to all the world–no exceptions.

Peace,
Brett

Ok, Jeremiah wasn’t really a bullfrog.  (In fact, that catchy lyric in the Three Dog Night song was actually just supposed to be temporary.)

But Jesus was a rebellious, smart-alack, troublemaker for pretty much everyone who was in any position of authority.

(And at least once, he had some mighty fine wine — at his mother’s request, nonetheless).

We often think of Jesus as this soft-spoken, easy-going, happy, kind, wouldn’t-say-a-harsh-thing-to-anyone kind of person.  And it’s not that he wasn’t these things, but he sure was quite a bit more.  I often think that one of the reasons we have seen such a decline in male participation in our churches is because we have turned Jesus into a big wuss.

There’s no question, his message was one of love–but it wasn’t a weak love.  It was a tough love.  And sometimes, even an angry, passionate love.

Yes, Jesus told us the greatest commandments were to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind” and to “love your neighbor as yourself.”  (Matthew 22) He even went so far to say that every other law and prophecy told hung on these two simple statements.

He was the one who described himself as the “good shepherd.”  He also said to “let the children come to me,” and that you must become like a child to enter the kingdom of heaven.

And that’s what people generally think about Jesus.

What people often forget is that Jesus was a courageous rebel who took on the leaders and world powers of his day directly and forcefully and didn’t quit until they killed him!

He upended the “system!”  He went against all the norms of his religion (the Jewish faith) and he basically told Rome, “you can have your little kingdom here–God is still in control regardless.”  He completely messed with the heads of everyone who was in power in his society.  He literally raised up a revolution that would not just excel past the murderous jealousy of the religious leaders, but that actually overtook the occupying kingdom of Rome.  (Familiar with the term “Roman Catholic?”  That’s where it comes from.  Jesus’ teachings spread so far and to so many people, that the Roman Empire adopted Christianity as their religion.)

I find so often that people don’t think about the radical that Jesus was.  And yes, he was a “radical!”  He was outside all the norms, he went against all of the establishment and said, “I’m the one who is right!”

Here are some of the things Jesus did as a rebel, as a protester, and as someone who claimed the way that the leaders of his time behaved was backward and wrong.  However, instead of using the terms for the Jewish and Roman leaders of his time, I’m going to paraphrase to reference modern religious and governmental institutions as best as possible, so you might see the parallels between what a historical and a modern-day Jesus could be.

(Please keep in mind, the situations I propose are purely hypothetical.  Also, I am not necessarily trying to draw comparisons between those parties in the bible story and those in my illustrations; I’m simply trying to draw comparisons in the situations.)

Read the following and tell me this guy wasn’t a tough, bold, brave, and “manly” man.  (I won’t even go into his physical suffering and death, and the strength of his faith and love that allowed him to forgive his own killers even as he died.)

Jesus Cleanses the Temple (Matthew 21:12-17)

Jesus walks into Lakewood Church in Texas. Lakewood is the church led by millionaire pastor Joel Osteen.  (Here’s a picture of his $10.5M home.)  Jesus looks around. In the church, there are all kinds of books and goods, from which the profits of the sales go at least partially, if not directly, to Osteen.  Jesus sees this and is enraged at how the pastor of a church has enriched himself beyond belief through the sales of goods and the Sunday collections from his congregation.  He snaps and yells at all those people manning the sales tables.  He chases after them and runs them out of the building.  He then moves to the merchandise display cases and trashes them, flipping tables, knocking over product stands, pulling posters and fliers off the wall.  He screams for all who can hear him to stop perverting God’s church–that is it not a place for profit and that its leaders should be modeling humility, love, and forgiveness–they should be helping the poor and those in need–not enriching themselves on the backs of its congregants.

Jesus Denounces the Scribe and Pharisees (Matthew 23:1-36)

Jesus decides to crash a national gathering of a mainstream church denomination.  As the leaders are attempting to speak, he interrupts them from the crowd of thousands with a group of protesters and claims that those in power are illegitimate.  Among the claims he and his demonstrators make:

Church leaders and members place all kinds of rules and responsibilities on their congregations, but they themselves do not follow them.

Church leaders and members make a big show of what they do in “God’s service,” yet fail to do anything for the poor, the needy, and others who most desperately need God’s love and the help of their fellow humans.

Church leaders and members get wrapped up in a single social issue and as a result, miss the bigger picture and the bigger problems and needs that they should be addressing.

Pilate Questions Jesus (Matthew 27:11-14)

Jesus is arrested by federal agents due to charges that have been made up by his enemies, including that he has been planning a coup to oust the elected officials.  While under intense questioning from the agents, he does not break down and cry and beg for them to go easy on him.  Nor does he get furious and attempt to discredit his accusers.  In fact, he’s so strong and confident in his mission that he simply answers questions with a smart remark or simply remains silent and sturdy under intense scrutiny.

Casting the First Stone (John 8:1-11)

(In this example, we’ll pretend Jesus is the white guy as so many people picture him as being instead of a brown-skinned, Palestinean Jew.  It’s necessary in order for this analogy to work.)  Jesus encounters a lynch mob in 1950s Mississippi that is preparing to hang a young black man for courting a white woman–something in that time was considered impermissible, yet a victimless “crime.”  Before the mob has a chance to serve up their “justice” for the young man’s “crime,” Jesus is not only brave enough to stand up to a mob of people with murder on their minds (who could have just as easily killed him, too, without a second thought), but then also convinces them to leave the young man unharmed and to go about their business.  Once the mob disburses, Jesus then counsels the young man, making sure he is ok.

Now, I realize some of these stories I’ve made up might sound a little, well, strange, out of left field, and maybe a little absurd.  I get it.  That’s ok.  But do me a favor: with the ideas I’ve shared in mind, read the actual scriptures that are linked to each of them.  You’ll see that Jesus was no wimp.  He was BOLD.  He was STRONG.  He was BRAVE.  He was more than willing to stand up and speak truth to power, fight for what he knew was right, and oppose injustice and hypocrisy wherever he saw it.  Even in these acts, love was his motivation.  But just because love was his motive and mission, it certainly did not preclude him from being righteously angry, being brave, and speaking truth to earthly powers–no matter how mighty those powers were.

You might say he was a “straight-shooting, son uva gun.”

So if and when you think of Jesus, remember—Jesus was BOLD, BRAVE, and STRONG.  Know that the love of God is the ultimate power and that in the end, the only things that remain will be faith, hope, and love–which is the greatest of all.

And by no means, is love weak.

Peace,

Brett

I find this question intriguing at times–and for a number of reasons.

As a kid, my mom always took us to church; my dad wasn’t much for it. Looking back, I think one of the reasons was because of the hypocrisy of the individuals in the congregations he knew (including, regularly, those I demonstrated) and the artificial elevation that some pastors received. (Dad, if I’m talking out of school on this, say something and I’ll correct it.) Having said that, this was always one of the things that kept me at arm’s length from what I have since started calling “Ameri-Christianity.” In that vein, my dad did me a major favor.  But there will be more on that at a later time.

I hold no fault with my father for his views–none; if anything, his questioning, his calling-out of the, well, B.S. that he saw in his own world that was being committed by Christians made me think critically about myself and my own faith. At the time, it may have weakened me. It made me question my credibility as a “Christian.”  It made me think hard about what I claimed to value and how my actions often did not reflect those values.  Ultimately, I think it made my faith stronger because what I ended up learning was how imperfect we all are and how hypocritical we can be. (“Do as I say, not as I do.”)

I recall my dad talking about a few local pastors he had come to know through casual acquaintances from being about town. One such pastor was Richard Jumper who was the pastor at the Disciples of Christ church.

I didn’t know Pastor Jumper, as I had already left for college at that time, but I did know his congregation. We at the United Methodist Church had conducted joint Sunday Schools with the DoC church in my youth and I had been the organist/pianist for them when they needed a substitute while I was in high school. They were, as my congregation was, small, loyal, and as imperfect as anyone else I knew.

But I’m getting off track here.

My dad always liked Pastor Jumper because he was someone who he could engage in conversation about the real world. He was someone who didn’t come across with some “holier-than-thou” garbage, and his efforts were simply friendly–he wasn’t out to “convert all the heathens,” per se.

I have often reflected on this as I’ve considered the pastors I’ve known–both those I’ve admired and those I haven’t been particularly fond of (for which I will equally claim fault as I assign it).

What I have found, is that people often make the mistake of assuming that the pastor is somehow in a position that makes them superior to others.

This is utterly FALSE.

Sure, in the nature of human-organized religion (as in any human organization) there are bureaucratic mechanisms that keep order and we leverage them in our churches.

And there certainly is value in the incredible amount of training that pastors receive and the knowledge and experience they possess.

But, this does not make the pastor “above” anyone else.

He or she is only a human; no different than any other in the congregation or in the world.

Perhaps, as in some cases, the Spirit has guided them from very early in their life and that individual has made fewer “big mistakes” than others.  Of course, it’s not as though God is keeping score.

In many cases, pastors come from lives of chaos, of trouble, and from places we would never think God would go to gain a follower, let alone a leader.

The Apostle Paul is one of my favorite historical examples. This was a man who was literally persecuting and murdering Jesus’ followers until Christ confronted him while he was journeying to Damascus.

And he was changed. Transformed.

From a murderer of those who preached the truth (“Love one another as I have loved you.”), Paul became one who proclaimed that truth even unto his own death.

That is the miracle we share; that transformative power of Christ’s love for each and every individual–in each and every person.

Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber, the founder and pastor of the House for All Sinners and Saints is my favorite modern example.  I truly look to her as an example of God’s transformative power.  Spend a few minutes reading her story and see if you are not amazed at God’s work in her life.

No matter how screwed up you think your life is; not matter what you have done or what you didn’t do that you should have, God loves you.  You are valuable.  You have tremendous worth.

No one is any different from anyone else. “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23).

And this includes sinners who are church leaders and the sinners who make up their congregations.  They are no better nor any worse than what we consider the “worst” of us.

As it was once told to me, “We [pastors] are simply fellow beggars who have found a meal and a warm place to lay our heads, and we’re inviting all the other beggars to come join us.  That is all.”

Christ’s grace and peace are for all–no restrictions or reservations.

Peace,
Brett

As incredibly excited as I am about starting this journey towards ministry, I have admittedly been rather quiet in my discussions about it. I’ve shared this only with my immediate family, some very close friends, and my church congregation. Well until I started this site, I suppose.

Frankly, I’ve been quite nervous to share it. If you’ve read my “about” page or my post about my call, you’d know that I do not consider myself to be worthy of ministry. So I’ve been hesitant to speak of this to those who might question my decision or my motives. I suppose this illustrates most clearly where my shortcomings in my faith exist.

However, this morning’s Old Testament reading really spoke to me. It was the beginning of Isaiah 49:

Listen to me, you islands; hear this, you distant nations:
Before I was born the Lord called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name.
He made my mouth like a sharpened sword, in the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me into a polished arrow and concealed me in his quiver.
He said to me, “You are my servant, Israel, in whom I will display my splendor.”
But I said, “I have labored in vain; I have spent my strength for nothing at all.
Yet what is due me is in the Lord’s hand, and my reward is with my God.”
And now the Lord says—he who formed me in the womb to be his servant to bring Jacob back to him and gather Israel to himself, for I am honored in the eyes of the Lord and my God has been my strength—he says:
“It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept.
I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.”
This is what the Lord says—the Redeemer and Holy One of Israel—to him who was despised and abhorred by the nation, to the servant of rulers:
“Kings will see you and stand up, princes will see and bow down, because of the Lord, who is faithful, the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you.”

There are many interpretations of this scripture, but one of the things I learned in my synodically authorized ministry training was to listen to not only what the scripture says historically, contextually, and critically, but what it says to me spiritually.

To me, on Sunday during its reading, it confirmed to me my call to ministry and what I have felt God pushing upon my heart to pursue.  The idea that this was a path God had chosen for me before my conscious decision–even before my birth, the thought that he kept me until his time was right, and that he might use me as a medium to share the Gospel, I find exceptionally humbling.

The response that I would give to such a claim is, “I have labored in vain.”  Literally, all I have ever really done in my life has really been for me, about me, and to the benefit of myself, and for my own personal gratification and benefit.  I can truly say that to this point, I have spent my strength for nothing. (For what is it for a man may inherit the whole world, but lose his soul?)  I deserve nothing if not condemnation, but instead God has provided me with a reward–a purpose, and a mission.

He has called me to be one of the team who works to bring people to faith in Christ, to let my light shine for Him, that others might see.  He does this even knowing that when Christ claims his throne, the kings and rulers of the world will relinquish their power to Him, without the aid of any human.

I love that idea and seek to do all I can to spread Christ’s message of love and salvation for all of humanity.

Peace,

Brett

It was when I began attending First English Lutheran Church in Peoria, Illinois that my faith was rekindled and I began to have a passion for Christ and His message that I had not previously experienced. The birth of my children left me in awe of what God can accomplish through mere humans.  My pastor, James Lillie, suggested I began serving as the assistant minister during services, a role I was humbled to be asked to fill and one I continue to embrace.

One Sunday when Pastor Lillie was absent, we had a synodically authorized minister serve as a supply pastor. (A synodically authorized minister — or SAM — is a fancy name for a lay minister.  It’s someone who has gone through some formal training and has been given permission by the bishop to perform services.)  After church that day, I asked him about how he had come to perform this role and what was necessary for someone like me to do it. Roughly three years later, I had completed the synodically authorized minister program, preached my first sermon, and learned how much I loved proclaiming God’s grace to others.

It was around this time that I began to feel a tug on my heart towards ministry. I tried to ignore it initially, thinking it was just residual excitement from delivering a sermon, but it never went away for long.  On Mother’s day of 2016, I was the supply pastor at First English for all three Sunday services. I received many accolades from my fellow congregants, several joking that we should halt our pastoral call process because they would like me to fill the role.

When I returned home that afternoon, I had a feeling I had never experienced. I was energized, in awe of the Holy Spirit working through me in those hours, and felt the pull towards ministry in a much stronger way. This feeling again, I tried to attribute to my own excitement and not of God trying to encourage me. But this intense feeling did not go away either.

Thinking I was half-crazy, I sat down with my wife one night and told her about the feelings I was having.  I thought she would be able to help me rationalize them away. After all, I have a great job at a Fortune 50 company, a nice private technology consultancy, a mortgage on a home (in which I had just invested a significant amount of money), and four children ages eight and under who we still needed to raise and provide for. Surely, she would help me see how illogical this was and put this idea to bed.

However, that was not to be the case. I could barely finish speaking when she jumped in. “I’ve been feeling the same thing! I hadn’t said anything about it because I thought you would just dismiss it, but yes! I can’t believe you brought this up.  I really feel that God is pulling you in this direction and that God is giving me the will to encourage you in this.”

Again, being a very pragmatic person, I suggested we not make any rash decisions and instead continue to think and pray on it and determine whether or not this was really what we both thought (and knew deep down) it was. When neither of us felt differently a few weeks later, I called Pastor Lillie and asked to meet.

Once I had explained to him this same story, he smiled and said, “Yep. That’s it.  It won’t leave you alone and the only way you can satisfy it is to listen and follow.” We discussed some of the mechanics of pastoring a congregation—the typical workday, the responsibilities, the trials, the blessings.  The following month, I would have similar conversations with others at my synod’s annual assembly. (A synod is kind of like a district of churches.)

In early August, I attended a synod candidacy meeting. For the most part, this meeting helped me to solidify my position that this pursuit was something I should continue. However, I did feel a very strong hardening of my heart when we discussed how graduating seminarians are “assigned” to synods and then “told” where they’ll be going for their first call.  I am a very independent person and have been for my entire life.  It really sat wrong with me to think that I would not dictate whether or not I move, sell my home (which will have a significant financial impact on my family, as I will never get out of it what I have invested in it), and leave my community on the whim of someone I don’t know.

Frankly, I felt pretty pleased with myself about this.  I think deep down I was happy I had finally found something to silence the voice I heard calling me to ministry, something that would overpower it—my desire for independence, control, and financial well-being. If some bishop thought they were going to dictate my life, well, that person had another thing coming. Finally, permission to put this silly idea to bed and continue down the familiar path I was already on in my career and my life, even if it were a path I was not particularly thrilled with either.  At least it was “the devil I knew.”

Then one of the pastors at the meeting made the following comment: “Keep in mind, this discernment process should be somewhat challenging. There will be aspects you find difficult, that produce doubt. You’ll receive comments from people that are both affirmative and discouraging. Discernment is weighing these things and it should not, and will not, be easy if done correctly.”

I thought about all of this as I went home that Saturday afternoon and discussed it with my wife. I prayed about it and waited. For a little over a week, I thought I had reached the end of this path.  I remember thinking one afternoon as I was taking a walk, “Oh, it was something fun and interesting to consider. A neat little fantasy that allowed me to imagine taking a completely different path than the one I am on. But alas, it has concluded, because I’m dead set against moving, the financial repercussions, and upheaval this could cause in my life.”

I was so close.

And then it returned.

“Oh, ‘ye of little faith.’  Do you really think that God would lead you into something that was awful?  There’s a whole world out there, most of which you know little to nothing about. Do you not think God has a wonderful plan for you?  Your family has already said they were willing to take the chance—why aren’t you?  Because of moving?  No, because of selling your home—that’s what it is. Poor little rich man, afraid to take the risk—to sacrifice something of worldly value for something that could be so. Much. BIGGER. There’s a story about you—don’t you remember?  About the rich man who wanted to follow Jesus but couldn’t give up his worldly goods and went away sad for it?”

Yes, I remember.

“Well then—where is your faith?  Is your faith in your home, in your financial position? Or is it in the God who blessed you with all these things and has so many more wonders in store for you if you would just listen and follow?”

My faith is in God.

“Then go on this journey.  It’s not a ‘drop everything today’ journey.  But come and learn, and see, and understand what is waiting for you.  Will it be an easy path with butterflies and rainbows every day?  No.  But is your life like that now? Of course not.  This is an opportunity for a life that is rich in spirit, serving God and serving others. That question you ask yourself, “What is it that I do in my profession that actually makes a difference in the lives of others?”  It’s one that frustrates you because the answer is often, “little or nothing.”  You know that this new path will be all about making a difference in people’s lives.  You have already experienced the satisfaction and happiness generated from serving other people and serving God—making it your life will be so much more fulfilling than you can imagine.”

Yes, it will.

And there it is—after having doubts and trying to drown out the call I was feeling, it was back and stronger than it had ever been. Between the inner call I feel in my heart and the amazing amount of encouragement I have received from others, I truly feel that God has put this on my heart for a reason.  It’s still veiled, but I can understand some of it—enough to know I need to pursue it.

In September 2016, I began the formal candidacy process in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, and on December 14, 2016, I was accepted into Luther Seminary’s Distributed Learning program.

The journey continues.

As strange as it may sound, one of the things I consistently struggle with the contentment.

This makes absolutely no sense. I have been so unbelievably blessed in my life. And outsider would look at me and ask, “Uh, what exactly is the problem?”

And that’s what is so strange — there is no “problem.” The problem is in me.

I should probably define a bit more of what I mean by “contentment.” What I am NOT talking about is not being content with my wife, not being content with my marriage, or my kids, or my house, or my car, or any of those kinds of things.

I suppose I would best describe it as an internal urge I have to figure out, “What’s next?” “Where’s the excitement?”

My lack of contentment is often just my own frustration with the “status quo” of life. The dull, repetitive, even boring aspects of life that I (like everyone else) deal with day in and day out–the daily grind.

And it’s with this that I feel guilty in two ways. First, I feel guilty for not being content regardless of all the ways God has blessed me and my family. Second, I feel guilty because there are so, so many countless people who are suffering both here and throughout the world, and I have the audacity to not be content with my life.

Please know, this is not to say that this is a daily problem, but it is one that occurs with more frequency that I would like. Oddly enough, I’m actually feeling very content today (which may be why this topic came to mind).