What does it mean to offer a sacrifice of praise?

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Praise the Lord!
Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament!
Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his surpassing greatness!…
Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!”
(Psalm 150:1,2,6)

I’ve had the phrase “sacrifice of praise” stuck in my head for the last few days. I’m not sure where I saw it, or how it got there, but it’s been there, rolling around, forcing me to think about it. What does it mean, to offer a sacrifice of praise? Those two words don’t really seem to go together easily.

Doesn’t offering a sacrifice usually imply some sort of hardship? Doesn’t the idea of making a sacrifice generally include the understanding of doing something that’s not comfortable or easy, but in fact, is inconvenient, difficult, or even painful? And isn’t offering praise, on the other hand, the sharing of something good and encouraging and uplifting, the offering of which usually comes easily and willingly, and even naturally?

So why are we invited to “continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise”? (cf. Hebrews 13:15; emphasis mine).

People are struggling right now. And not just “right now,” but for close to a year. A year. For almost twelve months we have been living with the restrictions imposed by COVID-19–which I do not need to elaborate on; we all know them all too well. Of course, people were struggling before that, too; life was not all rainbows and roses pre-coronavirus.

But the COVID-related restrictions have made everyone’s struggles even greater.

People are struggling. People around the world and across the street. Our neighbors and co-workers, our educators and political leaders, our relatives and friends. You who are reading this, and I who am writing this. We are all struggling. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide, nothing to try to deny. I dare say it’s a fact of life in this season through which we are living.

And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….

Suddenly, the idea of offering a sacrifice of praise makes sense. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, there may not be a lot that we want to say to God that is good and encouraging and uplifting. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, offering praise to God may not come easily or willingly or naturally. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, praising God is not necessarily easy or comfortable. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, I dare say that praising God may very well be difficult, or even painful.

And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….

Perhaps it doesn’t come easily. Perhaps it doesn’t feel natural. Perhaps it’s even painful.

But maybe, just maybe, as people of faith, we can dig deep and offer a sacrifice of praise to God–praising God for God’s steadfast love and abiding presence if nothing else–right now, in the midst of these struggles.

Peace be with us all.
Deb

Love Letter From God

by Rev. Deb Worley

“And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Mark 1:11)
 


Yesterday–Sunday, February 14, 2021–happened to be both Valentine’s Day and Transfiguration Sunday, both of which celebrate belovedness

In honor of that, I am taking the liberty of sharing something I wrote in 2002, as I was leaving my position as the youth pastor of The United Church of Los Alamos, in order to stay home with my soon-to-be-born baby girl.

I had asked myself the question: “If the youth group hasn’t learned anything else in my time with them, what do I hope will stay with them?” This was the answer. I hoped something in it would speak to the kids then; perhaps something in it will also speak to you today.

Please enjoy this “Love Letter From God”…


To my Beloved Child…

That is, indeed, a good place to start—
by reminding you that you are my Beloved. 

You are a beloved child of mine.  You. 

Do you know that?
Do you know how much I love you?  
Do you really, really know, deep in your soul,
how much I, God, the Creator of the Universe, 
love YOU?

And do you know that the reason I love you 
is NOT that you are a good person?
Although you are.

Nor is it that you are a kind person. 
Although you are that, too.

The reason I love you is not all the good you do
(and I know even better than you how much good 
you have done, and how far-reaching its effects),
nor is it all the smiles you share, 
nor all the times you’ve reached out 
to help someone in need–
whether someone in your family, a friend, 
or even a stranger.

No, it is not for any of those reasons that I love you….

Oh, beloved child of mine, I love you so much!
If only you knew how much….

And do you know, and truly believe, that I love you 
even though I know your secrets?

I know the things that you’re afraid of….
I still love you.

I know the things that you’re ashamed of….
I love you anyway.

I know the things that you wish you’d never done….
I still love you.

I know the things that you wish you’d done differently….
I love you anyway.

I know your doubts…your judgments…your fears…your failures…
…and yet, I love you.

None of those things, nor anything else, 
could ever keep me from loving you….

I love you, my dear child, because I created you.
I love you, precious one, because there is no one else like you….
No one else.

I love you, Beloved, simply because you exist–
because that is what Love does
and Love is who I am.

I love you, now and forever and always,
and there is nothing you can do to change that.

There is nothing you can do to make me love you any more,
and there is nothing you can do to make me love you any less.

I.love.you.

Deeply.
Totally.
Passionately.
Unconditionally.
Forever.

Please, my dear child, let me love you….

God”

Peace, deep in our souls, be with us all
as we claim ever-so-slightly more fully,
our belovedness.
Deb

Attitude

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’ Then the Lord said to Samuel, ‘See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle….I am about to punish [Eli’s] house forever…’

“Samuel lay there until morning…afraid to tell the vision to Eli. But Eli called Samuel and said, ‘Samuel, my son….What was it that [the Lord] told you? Do not hide it from me….’ So Samuel told him everything…. Then [Eli] said, ‘It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.'” 

(1 Samuel 3:10-18…ish…)

The above passage is a significantly abbreviated version of the familiar “Calling of Samuel” passage (cf. 1 Samuel 3), wherein “the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under [the priest] Eli” (1 Samuel 3:1). Prior to what we read above, God had already called three times: “Samuel! Samuel!” And all three times Samuel had gone to Eli, saying, “You called?” The first two times, Eli said, “I didn’t call you. Go back to bed.” The third time it hit him: “Ah! GOD is calling you! If it happens again, say, ‘Yes, God? I’m listening.’” 

That’s where we pick up the story: “Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’” Often, it seems, the focus of this passage is on God calling, and on listening for God’s call. When I read it this week, however, there were a couple of other parts that stood out to me.

One is just Samuel’s response to hearing what was going to happen to Eli–he “lay there until morning” (cf. 1 Sam. 3:15). So, I’m not the first person (nor, I suspect, will I be the last) to lay awake until morning, my mind spinning over things (especially bad things!) that are out of my control. In fact, not only am I not the first person to spend a sleepless night, fearing what lies ahead, but I’m in good company! 

The other thing that spoke to me was Eli’s response to what Samuel told him. Samuel had just delivered some pretty unwelcome(!) news–that God was “about to punish [Eli’s] house forever” (cf. 1 Sam. 3:13). I don’t know exactly what that would look like–to have your house and family punished by God forever–but surely it’s not a good thing. Surely, in fact, it’s a terrible thing. 

And how did Eli respond? Did he say, “What?? That’s not fair!” No. Did he say, “What?? Why me??” No. Did he say, “Surely ‘forever’ doesn’t really mean forever…” No. Did he otherwise moan or whine or complain or rage? No. 

He said, “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

And I thought, “Wow…if only I could adopt that attitude….” That speaks to me of trusting in God, no matter what. Of claiming God’s goodness, no matter the circumstances.

“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

That speaks to me of trusting in a bigger picture, even though it can’t be seen. Of claiming to be part of a bigger–and better–story, even though this part sucks. 

“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

That speaks to me of faith.

Does that mean in every situation that is “unwelcome,” we are to simply sit back and accept it, without complaining or raging? Or doing anything to change it? Of course not. 

But perhaps there are times–particularly when the unwelcome situations are out of our control (not that any of us can relate to that concept…!)–when an attitude of “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him” could be helpful.

Just a thought.

Peace be with us all.
Deb

Untangling the Mess

by Deb Worley

“Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
     don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
 Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
     [God] is the one who will keep you on track.”
                                             (Proverbs 3:5-6, The Message)

While she was away, Sarah learned to crochet…and has become a bit of a blanket-making machine! “Everyone’s getting a blanket for Christmas this year!” So as not to be left out of the fun, I asked her if she would teach me. What you see in the picture above was my first attempt! Not bad, right? She’s a good teacher.

But what you don’t see is the fact that it was becoming narrower and narrower–I couldn’t seem to figure out how to keep the edges straight. What a mess! If I kept going, it was clearly going to end up in the shape of a triangle, rather than the more “traditional” rectangular shape of most blankets! So I pulled it all out so that I might start again. Yes, really….

I quickly got the first part of the yarn rolled up without too much trouble…but then the process came to a screeching halt. Talk about a mess! I had a neat-looking ball of yarn on one side and a big, tangled mess on the other….

Knots, knots, and more knots. If I pulled too hard, the knots only got harder to untangle. If I tried to go too fast, the mess only got worse…. I had to go slowly, be patient, and take my time…not to mention lots of deep breaths! Slowly but surely, the knots got undone and the mess grew smaller….

And finally, after several hours and many deep breaths (and only a few curses muttered under my breath!), voila! Done! Untangled! No more mess! Ahhh… Ready to start over with a new project.

Perhaps with help?…Did you notice the little foot, and whiskers, at the very top??… Meet Winston, one of our cats. Always ready to “help”!    

It struck me, in the midst of that process, that there were some similarities between it and what we’re all living through in this season. A year ago at this time, things were moving along, not perfectly for sure but in a way that seemed at least recognizable, sort of like me crocheting my blanket. And then, somewhere between January and March, things began to unravel. We weren’t doing the unraveling on purpose, certainly, but it happened just the same. And we were all left with a big, tangled mess.

A big, tangled mess that we are still in the middle of and that we all want desperately to untangle, so that we can start moving forward again, with a “new project,” if you will. Or even just get back to what we were doing before. And like with my mess of yarn, sometimes it seems that the more we pull, the more knotted it all becomes. And the faster we try to go, the worse it seems to get….

Perhaps some of the same strategies I used in untangling my mess of yarn can be helpful as we try to–or at least want to–untangle the mess we continue to find ourselves in. This is nothing new, of course, but I for one benefit from an occasional reminder! Perhaps, in this ninth month of COVID restrictions, we can benefit from some renewed patience…some regular deep breaths…and maybe even a few curses muttered under the breath (or shouted out loud?!)….

And additionally, as people of faith, perhaps we can also benefit from remembering, as the wise author of Proverbs reminds us, to trust God from the bottom of our hearts, knowing that we don’t have to–in fact, we can’t–figure out everything on our own. Perhaps, as people of faith, we can remember to listen for God’s voice, trusting that God is the one who will keep us on track. Easier said than done, for sure. But worth a continued effort.

Being patient will help, yes. Breathing deeply will help, absolutely. And in my experience, there’s a definite place for the occasional, appropriately expressed outburst(!). But I would suggest that the most critical piece in getting to the other side of this big, tangled mess in which we continue to find ourselves–and it’s perhaps also the most difficult piece for us high-achieving, do-it-yourself-ers–is trusting God.

Be patient–and trust God.
Breathe deeply–and trust God.
Shake your fist, shout at the heavens, curse a blue streak–and keep trusting God. 

And we will get to the other side of this big, tangled mess, with God at our side, ready for whatever new project awaits us….

Thanks be to God!
Deb

Grace…It’s for More than Just Dinnertime

by Carol Reynolds, Pastor, Scottsdale Congregational UCC

Grace, it strikes me, is one of those “squishy” words that’s hard to put your finger on, seemingly impossible to define, save for the prayers of gratitude and blessing we say before digging into our meals. It’s a theological concept, but it’s more than that. It’s a characteristic of God that we aspire to, some of us more successfully than others; but it’s even more than that! When we add a “ful” to the end of it, I begin to picture something more concrete and outwardly beautiful—a ballerina, a horse, someone with really good posture who treads lightly upon the earth, etc.

I felt vindicated when I went to look grace up in my Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms the other day. Beyond the “generic” version, which spoke briefly of kindness and unmerited favor, there were fully SIXTEEN types of grace listed and defined!!

actual grace
cheap grace
common grace
cooperating grace
efficacious grace
free grace
glorifying grace
habitual grace
irresistible grace
justifying grace
prevenient grace
sanctifying grace
saving grace
special grace
sufficient grace
universal grace

That’s a whole lot of grace! It reminds me of the fact that the Inuit have 40+ ways to refer to snow, which is pretty modest compared to the Sami of northern Russia and Scandinavia, whom I just learned have 180 words related to snow and ice and as many as 1000 for reindeer![1]

Obviously, to require that extensive a vocabulary for a single concept, it’s got to be something with which people have had A LOT of experience, to which they’ve given a lot of thought, and about which they care a great deal. As far as grace goes, suffice it to say that, in life, we experience a lot of it, which manifests in a host of specific ways. Which must also mean that we need a lot of grace in our lives.Perhaps never has this been truer than today, in the midst of this COVID-19 pandemic that has been our reality for over 10 months now. In many ways we’ve adapted thanks to the high tech means of communications available to us in 2020. We’ve got our weekly worship services, we’ve got our regularly scheduled check-ins with friends and family, we’ve got our shipments of essentials from Amazon and Chewy.com to keep trips to stores to a minimum. And yet…

There are many silver linings to the isolation we’ve had to impose upon ourselves to stay safe; yet loneliness and boredom are unavoidable, nevertheless. In many respects, we’re living out Bill Murray’s iconic Groundhog Day film, waking up to the same day over and over and over again. Sometimes I’m surprised there’s anything at all left to talk about with others!

One thing that does change regularly is the number of people contracting and dying from the virus. Lately they’ve gotten so high that I daresay they defy the 21st Century human imagination. Thank God PBS Newshour makes a point each Friday of sharing the stories of several of the latest victims, giving them human faces and touching, inspirational life stories, lest we come to think of these 250,000+ souls as little more than numbers on a screen.The thing is, no matter if and whether the astronomical numbers cease to outwardly shock us, they’re quietly taking their toll on each of us within, particularly as they land closer and closer to home. Whether we want to admit it or not, what we are experiencing, what the ENTIRE WORLD is experiencing right now is trauma. Trying to absorb and conceive of death on this scale, trying to protect ourselves from a threat that is at once invisible and mysterious, aggressive and hard to pin down for long, this is terrifying stuff, the stuff of horror movies and aspects of medieval European history we’d just as soon forget.

I say all of this not to deeply frighten or depress you, but to help us understand where we’re all coming from these days and to help us to offer our selves and one another that much cherished aspect of God’s character…GRACE. Perhaps never has it been more needed, as together, the whole world, finds itself in the throes of PTSD. Some of us are already quite familiar with this phenomenon in our lives, others not so much. It can manifest in a whole host of ways, but I’d like to highlight a few that I’ve been experiencing in myself and others in recent weeks. Perhaps the most prevalent one is what I like to call “COVID brain,” which can look like an abnormally high level of fuzziness and forgetfulness, slower rates of thinking, tracking, and processing information or communications, difficulty finding words or articulating ideas, etc. it can also look like heightened fears or anxieties, impatience, irritability, frustration, or general crabbiness. In extreme cases, it may have physical effects, perhaps even re-igniting pain from old, physically traumatic injuries.          

This year Thanksgiving comes to us at the exact right time, for thankfulness, gratitude, these are wonderful antidotes to so many of the things we’re experiencing. But the grace part, especially, is what our souls crave and, indeed, need, right now. Both grace for ourselves to receive and grace to give to others. Having said that grace is such a “squishy” word, what does that mean, exactly? It means striving to create a sense of spaciousness in our lives and in our interactions. It means giving ourselves and one another the benefit of the doubt, rather than rushing to criticize or blame or assume the worst of intentions on the other person’s part. It means asking what someone meant before accepting the story we’ve already crafted in our own minds as the truth and accusing them accordingly. It’s defaulting to compassion instead of blame and approaching all things from the realization that none of us is fully able to be our best selves right now, as much as we’d like to be; that, whether or not we’re willing to admit it, we’re all a tad sluggish and confused, cranky and scared; that 2020 hasn’t been kind to any of us.

So let’s not leave grace at the Thanksgiving dinner table this year. Let’s spread it near and wide, like the Christmas cards of old, like the holiday cheer we wish we could invoke in person but will still have plenty of opportunities to conjure up in our many virtual spaces.

The Advent season we’re about to enter is all about waiting. Waiting for the much anticipated birth of a precious baby and so much more, of the manifestation of God’s dream of joy and abundance, peace and justice for ALL people and indeed for ALL of creation. Never have we known more about waiting, whether for Promised Lands or for simple human touch. God is with us. God understands our pain and yearning. And God’s grace covers every single thing we’ve said or done and regretted throughout our lives. But especially during this deeply trying time in human and natural history. God will gladly share that grace—abundantly–with each one of us. All we need to do is ask and set the intention for ourselves.Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.

May God’s grace, peace, and love be with each one of you and with all living things. Amen.

[1] https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/there-really-are-50-eskimo-words-for-snow/2013/01/14/e0e3f4e0-59a0-11e2-beee-6e38f5215402_story.html

Right Now I Don’t Know How to Pray

by Deb Worley

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” (Romans 8:26-27, NRSV)

There have been times in my life when I have not known how to pray. I don’t mean that I have not known “the formula” for prayer (for example, Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication) or the posture for prayer (for example, hands clasped, head bowed). I mean that I have not known how to pray–when attempts at Adoration turn into expression of anger and Thanksgiving feels hollow, when words cannot even be formulated and when a bowed head results only in tears….

Perhaps others of you have lived through these experiences as well. I suspect so… Perhaps others of you are even living through moments like these now, in these times in which we all find ourselves. There’s so much in our lives and in our world that continues to be uncertain, so much that can feel unsettling in our bodies, minds, and souls, so much that can lead us, perhaps, to feeling like we don’t know how to pray….

In those moments, in these moments, we can be grateful for the Holy Spirit. Or–well–maybe, if we are truly honest, not in those moments–those moments when we are overwhelmed with fist-shaking anger, free-flowing tears, mind-numbing confusion, heartbreaking despair, those moments when hope seems distant, when healing seems a desperate wish, when wholeness seems out of reach–maybe not in those moments…but perhaps outside of them, in the moments when the magnitude of those emotions has subsided, we can be grateful for the Holy Spirit. Perhaps because of those moments, we can give thanks for the Holy and ever-present Spirit of the Living God, who helps us and holds us and sustains us and stands in for us, interceding on our behalf with sighs too deep for words….

Thank you, Spirit of the Living God…because right now I don’t know how to pray…

Peace be with us all.

Deb

Breaking Away

by Victoria S Ubben

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us that, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.”  Is there a season for a pandemic?  Is there a time for Covid-19?  Is there a time when this social-distancing and mask-wearing will end?

As I spend time during this Covid-19 pandemic reflecting on more than 32 years of ordained ministry with the United Church of Christ, there is always some sorrow as one ministry concludes, and another begins. 

image credit: Doug Ross, multimedia journalist

I resigned from a pastoral team at a church that I had been serving for seven-and-a-half years in 2013 because (1) that “season” had ended and (2) God was calling me and some other ministers to try a new sort of ministry in our city.  The purpose of this new calling was to launch a parachurch ministry to reach and serve the rapidly growing number of people who were choosing not to engage in traditional churches. Our downtown-based ministry was called “BreakAway” because it did not sound like a name of a church.  We rented space upstairs, above a popular restaurant, right across the street from our county courthouse, in a place that did not look like a church. “BreakAway Ministry” began gradually in 2013, was full-time by 2015, and then (as quickly as we had begun) we were called on to something new.  By 2016 this season for this unique downtown ministry had come to an end; God’s still-speaking voice had called me onward to a new form of ministry in rural Indiana.

Moving out of our rental space, shutting down a Facebook page, obtaining a new email address, dis-assembling our webpage, printing hard copies of a three-year inspirational blog, thanking our donors, and saying “good-bye” to those who had shared a BreakAway journey with us… carried significant sorrow.  What was once effective and worthwhile, no longer could be “packaged” in the same way.  BreakAway lived for three years and sustained countless people on a spiritual journey who may never find their way back to the organized church again.  Our memories of a three-year ministry (2013 to 2016) are always tinged with joy and gladness as we reflect on them now.

image credit: Doug Ross, multimedia journalist

The Covid-19 pandemic has changed us.  Some of what once was, shall never return.  Parts of what used to work in our lives and in ministry may not work now…or in the future.  Could it be that God reminds us through this pandemic that pieces of what was meaningful, effective, and useful in the not-so-distant past…are already gone?  With God’s grace, we shall move through this pandemic and onto new ways of doing things.  This season of a pandemic teaches us that sometimes we must break away from the way things used to be… and make some bold, new discoveries in this moment in time.  In just 6 months of this pandemic, many of our churches (and various ministries) already have changed and adapted.  Will we ever be the same again?  Probably not.

Look to Jesus as our example; his ministry adapted to the situation in which he found himself.  He certainly broke away from the religious establishment of his day and he met people where they were, and in the ways that he could.  Jesus met with lepers, tax collectors, and prostitutes (to name a few).  He met them on a mountain, by the river, on a lake, and in an upper room.

image credit: Doug Ross, multimedia journalist

There is a season.  There is a time.  There are people waiting…here and now…to hear God’s word of grace and peace.

Prayer for this season:  Oh God, you are the One who enables us to break away from whatever holds us back.  Enable us to adapt in the ways that we must during this pandemic so that what we do glorifies you and uplifts other people along the way.  Amen.

Living in An Age of American Anxiety

by Ryan Gear

If you have a hunch you might be feeling more anxiety than usual, you’re probably right. With COVID-19, our political situation, the stubborn continuance of racial injustice, and the recent economic downturn added to the normal stress of life, Americans are suffering with astronomical anxiety levels.

According to the Census Bureau, as of mid-July, 35% of Americans are experiencing what could be classified as Generalized Anxiety Disorder. This is almost double the percentage in 2014 and is up by almost five percentage points since January. Arizona is on the higher end, nationally.

There is also a clear correlation of stress experienced according to age group, with almost half of 18-29 year olds experiencing diagnosable anxiety. Ethnic minorities and those with lower educational attainment clearly feel more stress than whites and those with higher levels of education.

It’s not just Americans who are feeling stressed out. British historian Richard Overy states that, like the 1920s, with political change, the increasing strength of nationalism, and fear of future wars, the 2020s in the UK will be an “age of anxiety.”

The same is true closer to home. While Trump may currently be headed for defeat in November, “Trumpism,” a form of nationalism motivated by the dwindling percentage of white Christians in America, will likely live on into the foreseeable future. It is conceivable that every four years for the next couple of decades, American voters may face the choice between leaning into the ideals enshrined in Declaration of Independence or falling toward fascism.

The economic downturn caused by COVID-19 is weighing on American families who have already suffered growing economic inequality since the 1980s. Pew Research found that income inequality in the U.S. is the highest of all G7 nations, and the wealth gap between America’s richest and poorest families more than doubled between 1989 and 2016. Middle class incomes in America have grown at a slower rate than upper-tier incomes since 1970.

In August, I’m giving a sermon series at the church I pastor called Distressed: Living in An Age of American Anxiety. My central point of the series is that, as people of faith, we have two things to offer to stressed out Americans, including ourselves:

  1. Our faith offers us resources to cope with anxiety, and
  2. Our faith addresses the root causes of American anxiety.

At the center of the Jesus Way is the belief that God cares for all of us and is especially predisposed toward people who are struggling. 1 Peter 5:6-7, encourages people who feel beaten down:

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

We have the comforting words of Jesus from Matthew chapter 6:

“‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?… For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them… But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.’”

We believe that God cares about stressed out Americans and that God provides. At the same time, we also know how God expresses care and exactly how God provides… God cares and provides through God’s people who partner with God and allow God to care and provide for society through them.

God cares for us, and God cares through us. As people of faith, we have the invitation to partner with God to address the root causes of our nation’s anxiety. In a previous time of heightened inequality and anxiety, Walter Rauschenbusch woke up the American church with the book that birthed the era of the Social Gospel, Christianity and the Social Crisis. The Social Gospel movement was fueled by the words of the Hebrew prophets like Micah:

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God (Micah 6:8).

The champions of the Social Gospel were optimistic in their belief that human hearts could be quickly bent toward justice and usher in the millennial reign of Christ in the 20th century. The quagmire of WWI, however, along with the Bolshevik revolution in Russia, and the doldrums of the Great Depression, exposed a degree of naiveté in the movement.

Reinhold Niebuhr, while agreeing that the premise of the Social Gospel was rooted in the biblical concept of justice, suggested that a new kind of “Christian Realism” was needed. Niebuhr wrote in the 1932 Moral Man & Immoral Society that people who desire social justice must force it to happen politically. He points out the reality, for example, that a few exorbitantly wealthy people will pay more taxes out of the goodness of their hearts, but most will not; tax laws must be changed. There are individuals who love justice, but society as a whole does not. Therefore, the political will must be influenced by those individuals who do, and laws must be passed that force the rest to comply within a more just system.

In an era when, like ours, racism and economic injustice played the central role in American politics, Niebuhr presented a strategy that we can also utilize today to address the root causes of American anxiety. In Moral Man & Immoral Society, Niebuhr holds up the example of Ghandi who, while known primarily for using the method of non-violence, also wisely employed another strategy to influence the political will of the British Empire to act more justly toward India.

Niebuhr writes that even though there is actually no ethical distinction, in a strategic decision “Mr. Ghandi never tires of making a distinction between individual Englishmen and the system of imperialism which they maintain” (p. 249). Ghandi acknowledged the perceived difference between the decent and law-abiding individual Englishman at home and the horrible injustices the English collectively perpetuated in India. By doing so, he slipped past the defense mechanisms of the individuals who maintained the system and ultimately changed the political will. Quoting Ghandi from C.F. Andrews’ Mahatma Ghandi’s Ideas, p. 238:

“An Englishman in office is different from an Englishman outside. Similarly an Englishman in India is different from an Englishman in England. Here in India, you belong to a system that is vile beyond description. It is possible, therefore, for me to condemn the system in the strongest terms, without considering you to be bad and without imputing bad motives to every Englishman.”

As anxiety-producing inequalities are worsening, and political divisions are widening, Ghandi’s graceful strategy of inviting willing individuals to change the system may both counter the politics of division and be the most effective approach to addressing the root causes of our national anxiety. We have an opportunity to reduce our own anxiety and be the change we want to see.

Ryan Gear is the Lead Pastor of The Well in Chandler, AZ. During the COVID-19 shutdown, The Well meets online Sundays at 10am AZ/1pm EST.

A Cardinal Lesson in Discernment

by Teresa Blythe

I have not always been sure of what I wanted to do with my life, but I have an uncanny ability to know deep within what I do not want—especially in what you might call “defining moments” of my life. 

In the late ’90s, I served as a low-level public relations assistant for the government transit agency in Baltimore, assigned all the tasks that the director of communications didn’t want to do. We were hosting the Catholic Cardinal one day as we dedicated the opening of a new subway station near the Cathedral, so I wore my nicest skirted suit. 

As the Cardinal spoke, it was clear the sound system wasn’t working properly. It made no difference that there were two men, in pants, staffing this event alongside me—I was ordered to step onstage during the speech, get on my knees, reach under the robe of the holy man, and adjust the sound. After the event, my boss ribbed me about “getting to fiddle around under the Cardinal’s robe” It was then I realized this job had run its course, and public relations was not a good fit for me.  

Leaving that job, I went to seminary in the hope that my theological leanings would lead to a career. Everyone, including me, expected I would become an ordained minister. But part of seminary training is exposure to a variety of ministries and ministers. And what I discovered was a general malaise that set in for many clergy after doing the job for five or more years. These men and women of God talked a lot about “callings” and “loving the people”—in the abstract. In reality, they were lonely, tired and depleted. I became tired just being around them. Some of them had personality types like my own, and I realized that if they couldn’t cut it, neither could I. I just didn’t have the mettle to be a parish minister. And I knew that if I ignored that “no” and pushed forward anyway I would have a lot harder time leaving that job than I did saying goodbye to the job that had me crawling onstage with the Cardinal. So, with a bit of sadness, I crossed “parish pastor” off my list. 

I wondered what I would ever be willing to say “yes” to?

While in seminary, I also studied to become a spiritual director—a person trained in listening and helping people along their spiritual journeys. We look for signs of energy, desire, life, and joy—clues that God is doing a new or significant thing in the person’s life. We look for the “yes” and pay close attention to the “no,” which is a key principle in the spiritual discipline of discernment.

As I learned how to walk with others, I found my own passions. Being a former broadcaster and having that short-lived career in public relations meant that I had done a lot of writing over the years. Now it was time to write about things that really mattered.

It began with articles, essays, book reviews and finally co-authoring a book. I was saying “yes” all over the place, and amazingly, people were responding. Then came an offer to write someone else’s book. It looked like a great career move, but a little voice deep inside me was saying that old familiar “no.” I pondered. Weighed the pros and cons. Consulted with mentors and elders. No. No. No. As certainly as I did not want to duck under the robe of the holy Cardinal, I did not want to write someone else’s book.

That’s when I learned the “cardinal” lesson of discernment. It is only in hindsight that we know with any certainty whether the path we chose was the right one, and that’s OK. As we keep looking back, we discover what we need to know to move forward. That visceral “no” is an important voice to honor. In fact, sometimes I think that’s the voice more good people in the world need to obey. It’s heartbreaking to see someone who says “yes” to every offer that comes down the road and become a scattered mess. Perhaps they heard the shout of “no” a few times but ignored it and now they are burned out and looking for the escape route.

That “no” taught me that, because life is short, I need to pursue what I am specifically made by God to do, even if it’s not all that clear at the moment. I need to write what I want to write, be around people who are full of life and help others along their spiritual journey. 

And, of course–never, ever, work for someone who demands that I crawl under a Cardinal’s robe.

Ideas for reflecting on listening to the “no:”

  • When is the last time you honored a “no” that you felt in your heart? How did it work out?
  • How did you discover your life’s work? If you have not yet found your way, what tools are you using for discernment?

Practice: Using the Quaker image of the “stop in the mind” as part of your discernment process. When you feel an urge to slow down or stop around a particular request made of you, take time to explore that. It could mean saying no is what’s best. Or it could mean you need more information, or that now is not the time. The “stop in the mind” can be important discernment information about how God’s spirit relates to us.