I still remember the day that I decided I would no longer “try” to be a Christian. I’d been a “wanna be” for a long time (decades actually), but this time I decided I’d leave the Church once and for all. And, yet, I haven’t: I’d say I still have one toe in the door - one pinky toe - but not as a Christian, simply as someone who loves, values, and still wants to be connected to this Church body. I guess that’s why I’ve been “The Virtual Member” since long before it was cool.
I’m not sure how to help more sheep to the Church - and if I’m honest, I’m not sure that’s something I believe I “should” do - but I do love this particular arm of the Church and how it cares for its neighbors.
Thanks for this. I have always loved the parable of the 99 and the one. I think most people have felt like that one at some time or other, and we need to remember that feeling when thinking of others.
Like you and many others who read, write, and listen intently in this blog you lead and facilitate, Clint, I have heard my fair share of confessions. My own confessions usually trouble me deeply, similar to your pastoral letter shows how sin stirs the waters of your soul to write and mine to read. Genuine confessions, as yours herein shake me up. To my core.
I have lived through many earthquakes like the Loma Prieta quake of October 1989. That one among many others rattled me when I lived in San Francisco. A band of researchers were visiting me to critique my work on pentamidine for Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia prevention in people with less than 100 CD4 cells due to advanced HIV infection (that was 1989; pentamidine did not work).
Then, a little after 5:00 pm, the earth jolted me backwards, causing me to hit the wall and then the floor. The visiting group from Boston were frozen by sudden fear. I went into caregiver mode, directing group members to slip under the oak table we sat around. The ceiling tiles and other debris fell over the table. The researchers started to scream and cry.
I started to sing "Row, row, row your boat..." Slowly, they joined in the canon. The aftershocks were less worrisome, so the doctors and nurses in the group asked what they should do now. I asked them to follow me to the stairway door on the third floor of the medical center where we could descend stairs to reach the 2nd floor, a nursing unit where there were 40 bedfast patients with AIDS. We were OK. But I had concern for the 40 men and women living with AIDS on that unit.
The earth shakes when God stirs 'metanoia' in us. Years ago, a dear Christian woman, my friend, approached me in sobbing tears to make a confession. I felt sad seeing her suffer. But I had acquired and honed inner strength and skills to resist crying excessively (I'm not sure what excessively means), when someone I know well and love dearly presents sorrow over sin amidst streams of tears. I see her and you in deep sorrow. You, she, and I are similarly grounded in Luke's prodigal narrative.
The prodigal may have rehearsed what he would tell his father countless times before arriving home after his profligate and bacchanal journey. "Abba, I have sinned against heaven and you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Let me take my place among the household's servants." At what point do you guess the prodigal's tears turned from trickle to torrent?
My hunch would be the tears became a raging river when he saw his Abba running gleefully toward him. Of course, they continued as his dad started to speak while hugging him. Sorrow reaches a fevered pitch when we see face-to-face the person(s) we have harmed. Since we cannot see Jesus' (and our) Abba except through Jesus' parabolic words and the sacraments, we need proxys.
The proxy for Jesus in this instance and context is your reader. I for one am pretty gleeful like the prodigal father with tears galore to make the seas rise. Christ is among us forgiving you. You are sheep and shepherd. Now let's throw a party in your"little church," where the Holy Spirit makes us one.
"One Bread, one Body, one Lord of all, one cup of blessing which we bless. And we though many throughout the earth, we are one Body in this one Lord." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNNOQm6WO54
I still remember the day that I decided I would no longer “try” to be a Christian. I’d been a “wanna be” for a long time (decades actually), but this time I decided I’d leave the Church once and for all. And, yet, I haven’t: I’d say I still have one toe in the door - one pinky toe - but not as a Christian, simply as someone who loves, values, and still wants to be connected to this Church body. I guess that’s why I’ve been “The Virtual Member” since long before it was cool.
I’m not sure how to help more sheep to the Church - and if I’m honest, I’m not sure that’s something I believe I “should” do - but I do love this particular arm of the Church and how it cares for its neighbors.
That’s all I got. 🤷🏻♀️
Some times just eating ice cream together cements a relationship and makes one want to remain a part of the flock forever.
Thanks for this. I have always loved the parable of the 99 and the one. I think most people have felt like that one at some time or other, and we need to remember that feeling when thinking of others.
Don’t beat yourself up so much.
Like you and many others who read, write, and listen intently in this blog you lead and facilitate, Clint, I have heard my fair share of confessions. My own confessions usually trouble me deeply, similar to your pastoral letter shows how sin stirs the waters of your soul to write and mine to read. Genuine confessions, as yours herein shake me up. To my core.
I have lived through many earthquakes like the Loma Prieta quake of October 1989. That one among many others rattled me when I lived in San Francisco. A band of researchers were visiting me to critique my work on pentamidine for Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia prevention in people with less than 100 CD4 cells due to advanced HIV infection (that was 1989; pentamidine did not work).
Then, a little after 5:00 pm, the earth jolted me backwards, causing me to hit the wall and then the floor. The visiting group from Boston were frozen by sudden fear. I went into caregiver mode, directing group members to slip under the oak table we sat around. The ceiling tiles and other debris fell over the table. The researchers started to scream and cry.
I started to sing "Row, row, row your boat..." Slowly, they joined in the canon. The aftershocks were less worrisome, so the doctors and nurses in the group asked what they should do now. I asked them to follow me to the stairway door on the third floor of the medical center where we could descend stairs to reach the 2nd floor, a nursing unit where there were 40 bedfast patients with AIDS. We were OK. But I had concern for the 40 men and women living with AIDS on that unit.
The earth shakes when God stirs 'metanoia' in us. Years ago, a dear Christian woman, my friend, approached me in sobbing tears to make a confession. I felt sad seeing her suffer. But I had acquired and honed inner strength and skills to resist crying excessively (I'm not sure what excessively means), when someone I know well and love dearly presents sorrow over sin amidst streams of tears. I see her and you in deep sorrow. You, she, and I are similarly grounded in Luke's prodigal narrative.
The prodigal may have rehearsed what he would tell his father countless times before arriving home after his profligate and bacchanal journey. "Abba, I have sinned against heaven and you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Let me take my place among the household's servants." At what point do you guess the prodigal's tears turned from trickle to torrent?
My hunch would be the tears became a raging river when he saw his Abba running gleefully toward him. Of course, they continued as his dad started to speak while hugging him. Sorrow reaches a fevered pitch when we see face-to-face the person(s) we have harmed. Since we cannot see Jesus' (and our) Abba except through Jesus' parabolic words and the sacraments, we need proxys.
The proxy for Jesus in this instance and context is your reader. I for one am pretty gleeful like the prodigal father with tears galore to make the seas rise. Christ is among us forgiving you. You are sheep and shepherd. Now let's throw a party in your"little church," where the Holy Spirit makes us one.
"One Bread, one Body, one Lord of all, one cup of blessing which we bless. And we though many throughout the earth, we are one Body in this one Lord." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNNOQm6WO54
Been there, done that, bought the T shirt.
“…the 99 are as capable as I am of going out to find that lost one.” And THAT is the despicable truth which we’d rather ignore…