Just earlier this week, when I was still unaware that there was an imminent Hurricane threat, I was walking through my new neighborhood and doing something I usually do: looking around for things I could possibly use for a children's message on Sunday. I had read a couple of sample children's message books and I was thinking about the Gospel reading, the one where Jesus asks his disciples "Who do people say that I am?" and the disciples give all sorts of answers, and then Jesus asks them, "But who do YOU say that I am?" and Peter jumps up and says, "I know the answer! You are the MESSIAH!" And then Jesus calls him the ROCK, just because he said that, and says he's going to build his church on that ROCK.
So, I'm thinking about ROCKS. I'm thinking, what if I can get a great big ROCK to bring to church on Sunday morning, not just a little stone and not a medium-sized Rock, but a great big mighty ROCK? (Would that be even practical? Could I lift it? Would I be able to pick it up?)
And while I am walking with my dog and thinking these thoughts, I see that there are some big rocks in people's yards. Not every yard, but a few yards have big rocks in them. And I think: YES! That's just what I am thinking about!
Then I look more carefully, and I think: That Rock isn't going anywhere. That Rock is deeply embedded in the ground. It's part of the property.
So, I don't have a huge rock to use as a visual aid for my children's message tomorrow. In fact, in the way of things, I don't have a children's message and we won't be having worship tomorrow morning. We are on the edges of Hurricane Harvey and we decided it would be better if everyone worshipped at home tomorrow morning.
And I think about that big immovable rock, and about Peter's confession, "You are the Messiah!" and about how Jesus called him a Rock, or at least his confession is rock-solid. But I'm thinking about Harvey now, and about all that is uncertain in the world, and all the things that God doesn't guarantee, and the thing that Jesus does promise, in the midst of it: He is not going anywhere. He is embedded so firmly in our lives, in the pain and the joy and the suffering and the love, he cannot be moved.
There is so much we can't control in life. But God will not be uprooted from us. He will not be moved. He's in this world. He's in our lives. He's in our communities, loving us, dying for us, living in us.
Showing posts with label Peter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Peter. Show all posts
Saturday, August 26, 2017
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Eating What Is Set Before You
I lived in Japan for three years and never ate raw horse meat, although I heard that it was a delicacy in the region where I lived. It was called "basashi," I heard, and kept wondering if there would be a time when I would have to swallow my revulsion and taste it. But it never happened.
There were new and strange foods, though, and I learned that it was part of being a missionary to learn to eat things I had never tasted before, to accept hospitality as well as to provide it. Being a missionary was not about being in charge all of the time. It was about learning to live in a strange place, and eat new things with chopsticks and humility. I'll be honest, there were times when I would have identified with Peter -- being offered a meal, and wanting to shrink away and say, "Oh no, Lord, I would never eat that! It can't be right to eat that!"
I remember the first time I bit down on something deep-fried, only to be told that it was "taco" -- octopus. It was okay, actually, after the initial shock of picturing an octopus tentacle passed over me. I also remember the surprise of tasting wasabi (Japanese horseradish) for the first time. Many times I learned that a new food that I did not want to try was a gourmet dish and an act of extravagant hospitality.
But of course -- Peter's reticence was more than cultural. These are foods that God had commanded him not to eat. This was about obedience to God, not just cultural preference or being a 'picky eater.' And the lesson here is not so much about the food as it is about people -- just as it was when I became a missionary in Japan. It is about what we eat, but more than that, who we eat with -- who we allow ourselves to eat with, to associate with, to worship with -- to live with.
While we have learned to eat different kinds of ethnic foods these days, we are more divided than ever -- by race and class and language. I remember the first time I helped serve a free meal through an organization called "Loaves and Fishes." While I was very comfortable ladling the food, serving food, I became uncomfortable when someone told me to go and sit and eat with the people I was serving. I have to ask myself why. I don't like the answer.
I like to think that both Peter and Cornelius were transformed through their encounter: both by the love of God. I know that this was true of me, long ago in Japan: though I thought I was going to serve in God's name and to tell of God's love, I ended up being expanded myself. I ate what was set before me, with humility and chopsticks. I learned to be loved at the same time I was learning more and more what it meant to love.
There were new and strange foods, though, and I learned that it was part of being a missionary to learn to eat things I had never tasted before, to accept hospitality as well as to provide it. Being a missionary was not about being in charge all of the time. It was about learning to live in a strange place, and eat new things with chopsticks and humility. I'll be honest, there were times when I would have identified with Peter -- being offered a meal, and wanting to shrink away and say, "Oh no, Lord, I would never eat that! It can't be right to eat that!"
I remember the first time I bit down on something deep-fried, only to be told that it was "taco" -- octopus. It was okay, actually, after the initial shock of picturing an octopus tentacle passed over me. I also remember the surprise of tasting wasabi (Japanese horseradish) for the first time. Many times I learned that a new food that I did not want to try was a gourmet dish and an act of extravagant hospitality.
But of course -- Peter's reticence was more than cultural. These are foods that God had commanded him not to eat. This was about obedience to God, not just cultural preference or being a 'picky eater.' And the lesson here is not so much about the food as it is about people -- just as it was when I became a missionary in Japan. It is about what we eat, but more than that, who we eat with -- who we allow ourselves to eat with, to associate with, to worship with -- to live with.
While we have learned to eat different kinds of ethnic foods these days, we are more divided than ever -- by race and class and language. I remember the first time I helped serve a free meal through an organization called "Loaves and Fishes." While I was very comfortable ladling the food, serving food, I became uncomfortable when someone told me to go and sit and eat with the people I was serving. I have to ask myself why. I don't like the answer.
I like to think that both Peter and Cornelius were transformed through their encounter: both by the love of God. I know that this was true of me, long ago in Japan: though I thought I was going to serve in God's name and to tell of God's love, I ended up being expanded myself. I ate what was set before me, with humility and chopsticks. I learned to be loved at the same time I was learning more and more what it meant to love.
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