the Little Clans

Here in the States, the news is filled with
the tragic story of three climbers who are
trapped on the side of Mount Hood. Weather
conditions severely limit rescue operations,
and it looks like the weather is not going to
improve any time soon.

One of the things that we (humans) do well
is to come together in such situations - to
search, to pray, to comfort the families.
In such times, we seem to 'get it right' as
far as what it means to be part of a greater
community.

Yet, there is a part of me that wonders.
What would the community's response be
if it had been three minority families coming
public, requesting search and rescue operations
for their sons/brothers/husbands/fathers who
were trapped on the side of Mount Poverty
and only had a very short window of opportunity
in which help could reach them?

What would the community's response be?
What would the church's? What would mine
be?

Here in Cincinnati, the City Council faces a
round of cuts in order to balance the budget.
The worthy goal of putting more police on
the streets in the face of a rising homicide
rate and other violent crimes, will be met
by cutting services to the homeless, to the
poor, to those who are the neediest. Several
health care clinics will be shut down, as
well as a pharmacy, and those who need
such services will have to travel further to
get them, though they are the least able to
afford such travel.

Yet, when a developer comes before the
Council with a plan to build condominiums
on the river, with prices ranging well over
a million dollars, approval is quickly granted,
with tax incentives of some $13 million. In
other words, the developer will not have to
pay such taxes, which means the income of
the city is further depleted, which means the
possibility of further cuts, which means
the poor, the needy, the lost suffer more.

One of the familiar readings of this Advent
and Christmas season is that from the 5th
chapter of Micah, where the prophet says
that the one who is to rule Israel, the Messiah,
will come from Bethlehem of Ephrathah.
And what does the prophet say of this mighty
family, this strong group, this rich and
powerful entity?

Micah says, "[you] are one of the little clans."

In other words, from the group that is marginalized,
will come the family that will find shelter in a
stable; from the people who have been excluded
will come the One who would include everyone:
the little, the lost, the prostitute, the tax collector,
the leper, the murder. From those who know what
it is like to hunger for food, for health care, for
simple decency, will come the One who hungers
and thirsts for God's righteousness to burst forth
in the world. From those who have experienced
oppression and injustice, will come the One who
will set every captive free, and who will call his
followers to work for justice, peace, and
reconciliation in every human condition. From
those who get to eat from the garbage dumps
of the world, will come the One who will become
the Bread of Life, so no one ever hungers again.

It is for the little clans, the little people, the
insiginificant and overlooked people, the
broken and the young and the old, the
outsider, the alien, the immigrant that
the One of peace, of hope, of life comes.

Do we see that One coming?

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

A Unique Stole

We have a group of ladies, young and old, in our church
who, for the last few years, have developed quite a
knitting/shawl ministry. They have done innumerable
shawls that have gone to hospitals, hospices, and homes;
they have knitted mittens and caps for kids at an intercity
church; and they recently knitted well over 100 caps for
newborns. It is a great group of folks (which has included,
on occasion, a 14-year-old young man from the neighborhood).

This morning, I came back to my office from the sanctuary
about 15 minutes before church was about to start. There
were 5-6 of the group waiting for me and I assumed they
were waiting to talk with me, because they were going
to do the childrens' sermon on their caps for the infants.

Wrong! They ushered me into my office, where they
handed me a wrapped gift. Inside was the most beautiful,
hand-knitted, deep purple stole!!! It was 'assembled'
from the efforts of over 25 of the ladies who each did
11 rows. And, I was informed that the 'formula' (?) they
used was 'knit 3, purl 3' (for God, Child, and Spirit).
It even came with beautiful beautiful gold stars on one side,
which will be 'revealed' on Christmas Eve.

I was speechless. It was an completely unexpected gift,
and so the moment, and the gift, was full of grace.

And, to top it off, the group is going in together to gift
me with a brand new preaching robe.

My cup runneth over today, after being empty for quite
some time.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

The Terrible Twins

This coming Sunday (November 26th) is observed,
in the church calendar as Christ the King Sunday.
One of the readings appointed for the day is
from the 1st chapter of the Revelation of John,
where the Lord God declares, "I am the Alpha
and Omega" (the beginning and the end). On
one of the listservs I belong to, someone
mentioned she was going to preach on what
this phrase means.

Gosh, someone who is brave enough to tackle
the Terrible Twins of Theology!

Of course, preaching about the Alpha and
Omega is a relevant word for a culture
(and all of us living in these days and times)
in which we believe everything is about us,
our needs/desires/obsessions/seductions,
since WE are the beginning and the end of all
things.

It's a relevant word for a culture which has
turned Christmas into the greatest buying
and selling campaign the world has ever
seen, rather than reflecting humbly or (yes!)
fearfully that the beginning of redemption
comes in the squalor of a stable, not in the
aisles of Nordstrom's; that the beginning
of redemption takes place in the pain
of childbirth, not in the numbed daze
of Christmas parties; that the beginning
of redemption takes place in a family
which is poor, which is rejected, which
is marginalized; that the beginning of
redemption takes place when Mary wraps
Jesus in swaddling cloths, because she
couldn't afford disposable diapers.

It's a relevant word for a culture which
continues to search for the fountain of
youth, and if we can't find it, then the
scientists and researchers had (by God) better
invent that pill, that treatment, that surgery
which will make us feel younger, look
younger, live longer, resist aging and death
for a few more years. After all, if the end
is not about us, then what purpose does
the end serve.

Thank goodness, John reminds us that if
the Lord God is the beginning and the end,
then God is also everything in between. And
if God is the Alpha and Omega (the first and
last letters of the Greek alphabet), then God
is every letter in between, and God is every
word that has been spoken, from the very
beginning first word calling forth light
to shine in the darkness, to the very end
word "Amen." And if the Lord God is the
One who is and who was and who is to come,
then we can stop worry about us, and our
past, and our future, and our end.

We can just keep our eyes open for the One
who is coming . . . the beginning and the end
of all we will ever need.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

No gloating allowed

I want to gloat.

Another evangelical leader has been caught with his piety down. Another conservative spokesman who trumpets "family values" has damaged his own family, as well as his church family. Another "Christian leader" who talks the talk has shown he has clay feet when it comes to walking the walk.

I want to point fingers; I want to snicker behind my hands; I want to gloat.

But . . .

. . . he has publicly admitted his weakness and his sin, asking forgiveness. And Jesus tells me (doesn't ask me to think about it, but tells me to do it) that when a sister or brother asks forgiveness, we are to grant such forgiveness.

In another place, Jesus commands us to love. Again, it's not an option; it's a requirement for following him. And, as Paul reminds us (in Eugene Peterson's marvelous paraphrase of 1 Corinthians 13:6), love

'doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
doesn't revel when others grovel,
takes pleasure in the flowering of truth . . .'

And, of course, there is my sin, my dark side, my other self that I don't want anyone to see. An old Native American parable tells of theone who said, "I have two dogs fighting inside of me: one evil, the other good. Who will win? The one I feed the most." Until I can stop feeding the evil dog inside of me, I should not talk about someone else.

I want to gloat, but I can't.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

A servant of the Lord

When I was in my first year of college, I met
the person who would have the most profound
influence in my life. A friend invited me to
go with him to hear the new minister who
had just arrived at the church some of
the faculty from the college attended.

Robert had come to this church because
he had been "run off' by his previous congregation
in Alabama. Why? Because he believed the
promise that the Lord's Table was open to
all who came from north and south, and
from east and west, and so had borne
witness to this truth by serving the bread
and the cup to a black couple, whom the
elders of the church had ignored while
serving everyone else in the church.

In his new call, he continued to live out
this witness. Before it was the word de jour,
he taught and lived inclusion, always welcoming
whoever came to the door, whether it was at
church or at home. He preached justice
to a time and a society which was desperately
holding on to all its unjust ways of treating
people who were different. Robert gently
spoke the hard words which needed to be
truthfully told, he endured the accusations
of the critics who charged him with
'meddling,' he provided sensitive and
compassionate care to those who spoke
vitriocally about him.

For the longest time, I could not figure out
why, or how, he did it.

Then, one day, visiting him at the church, I
needed to use the phone in his office. He
waved me behind his desk and left the room
to give me privacy. While the phone rang,
and I waited for the other party to pick up
at their end, I glanced down at his desk.
There, in a spot where he would see it
every day, in the midst of whatever he
was doing, was a yellowed piece of paper
taped to the desk which simply reminded him:

'You are a servant.'

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Stunned

This past February, a 27-year-old woman, Katie Haumesser, was taking her 10-year-old daughter, Emma, home from the ER late one night. That same evening, 19-year-old Jacob Wolford, left a friend's house, where he had been drinking. Missing his exit off the interstate, he ended up driving on the wrong side of the road where his truck collided head on with the car Katie and Emma were riding in. Katie was killed, and young Emma sustained serious injuries, but survived.

At his sentencing this past August, for causing Katie's death, Jacob acknowledged the wrong he had done, and offered a public apology to Emma for the terrible tragedy he had caused in her life. He has committed to doing whatever he can to tell his story to other young people, so they will not make the same mistakes that he did. He seems truly remorseful, even going so far as refusing to be released on bail, because of his guilt.

At his sentencing, Emma made a statement in which she forgave Jacob. Not for what he did, she cannot forgive him for that. But, seeking to do what she thought Jesus would do, she forgave him as a person. Wolford later said that he would much rather spend seven years in prison (the sentence he received) knowing Emma had forgiven him, then two years (the minimum he might have gotten) without that forgiveness.

A tragic, terrible story of stupid mistakes, of terrible injuries, of a death and loss which cannot be reversed. But also a story of grace, hope, and forgiveness.

Yet, in an editorial about this case, the local newspaper commented that people in the courtroom were "stunned" to hear Emma forgive Jacob.

Stunned.

We are no longer outraged when drug dealers peddle their wares openly on the streets; we are no longer shocked that 13 and 14-year-old children have children; we are no longer alarmed when more and more people settle arguments by pulling out a gun; we are no longer bothered by the fear-mongering that passes for leadership in our communities.

But we are stunned when someone forgives another person.

But I shouldn't be surprised. Not when Christians continue to carry grudges in their hearts from 30 years ago; not when church leaders speak harshly to one another in meetings; not when people of faith seek to demonize those who disagree with them on biblical, theological, and spiritual issues.

This Sunday, we will be reading the passage in Mark (8:27-38) where Jesus tells the disciples, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me." I was pretty much taught, as most of us probably were, that Jesus was talking about a cross of pain, of suffering, of denial, of death, of burdens.

Now, I wonder if the cross we are asked to take up, the burden we don't want to bear, the challenge we don't want Jesus to offer us, is to shoulder grace in a world where bitterness is spoken; to carry hope into a culture where despair is served at every meal; to bear forgiveness into all those shadowed corners of our lives where vengeance is lurking, just waiting to leap out and do the violence we hide in our hearts.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

That's All, Doc!

It happened one day in the Pastoral Care
class at seminary. The topic was visitation
in hospitals, but within the first five minutes
of discussion, it quickly disintegrated into
doctor-bashing. I was surprised.

Maybe it was because my best friend from
college had ended up going into medicine,
and I had acquired an understanding of what
one has to actually go through to get that
medical degree. Maybe it was that as an
older, second-career student, I had a little
more experience in visiting doctors. Maybe
I was (am?) naive. But I just couldn't believe
some of the attitudes expressed that day by
fellow seminarians.

Don't get me wrong. I have encountered some
pretty arrogant doctors, who are afflicted with
ITIGS (I Think I'm God Syndrome). I've seen
doctors who treat nurses and other staff as if
they were there only to wait on them. I've
been on the receiving end of doctors whose
bedside manner made one wish a dead fish
was sitting there, instead of that person.

But I have also been fortunate to know and to
have been served by tenderly compassionate,
incredibly gifted, undeniably patient people
who, when they put on that stethoscope each
day, did not take off their humanity first.
And I have seen doctors who were willing
to learn, to grow, to be transformed as they
encountered Teddy, with all his many diagnoses
as well as his gifts.

Later today, I have to say good-bye to one
of these doctors. For the last ten years, I
have been blessed to be served by a family
doctor who, indeed, became a member of
the family. Over the years, he has helped
me to deal with the grief, the depression,
the anger, the frustration that came from
Teddy and his struggles. He has been patient
with me as I struggle with my weight. He
always took the time, and gave me his
undivided attention and compassion, to listen
to me talk about the almost-debilitating stress
from church life and the pain of raising Teddy.

He is a gifted doctor, who recognizes from whom
his gifts come. He is a wonderful role model on
how one works with others, for I have been fortunate
to see him interact with his nurse as well as the
medical students he teaches. And he has taught
me so much about caring for others, and looking
beyond the quick fix to the long-term transformations
which can lead to better life. I always appreciated
the fact that he was probably more likely to suggest
some sort of 'alternative medicine' (walking, massage,
stretching, etc.) than just scribbling something on a
prescription pad. And I value the fact that he was
willing to admit, "I don't know all the answers."

So while I was stunned and saddened to hear that he
was leaving, I am not surprised to learn the reason.
He is going back to his hometown to serve in a
teaching hospital, to work with the residents there,
something he loves to do. But the main reason is
that his aging parents still live there, and he wants
to be closer to them, to be able to care for them,
to love them, to support them, to serve them.
His last act of caring for me is to model for me
the gift of caring for others.

I will miss him. I will miss his gentle, but firm,
insistence that I take better care of myself. I will
miss our discussions about faith and church. I will
miss our conversations as we either bemoaned or
celebrated our favorite baseball team, the Cincinnati
Reds.

I'm not sure if I owe him my life, though I know my
life is healthier and better because of his care. But
I do know that I owe him Teddy's life. For he was
the one who called one Saturday, after midnight,
regarding Teddy. He had seen him earlier that day,
about a lump on the side of Teddy's neck, which
the nurse and doctor at the facility where Teddy
was at, thought might be a swollen gland. He
called because he thought there might be more
going on, and suggested we take Teddy down to
Children's Hospital on Sunday afternoon for
further diagnosis. Call it intuition, call it a hunch,
call it a nudge by God, it was his call that helped
us to discover the cancer exploding through Teddy
(already Stage Four at that point), and got him
the surgery, the chemo, the care that saved his life.

As a minister, people sometimes ask me if I think
that God still performs healing miracles in the
world today. And when they do, I just look at them
and say, "Let me tell you about Dr. Gebhardt."

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Pity Party Cancelled

Don't you just hate some of the stunts God pulls?

I was all set to have a big Pity Party today. After all, it was 20 years ago today that I was ordained as a Minister of the Word and Sacrament. It was one of those 'mountaintop' moments: family and friends, a special piece by the choir, sermon by my ministry-mentor, a big luncheon, lots of feel-good moments.

And on the 20th anniversary? Well, I got up and put the laundry in the machine; cleaned up the hairball the cat had left on the floor; had my usual bowl of cheerios and fruit; found more grey hair in my head and beard; came to the office, where the stacks of unsolved issues and things undone were still waiting for me.

No cards, no calls, no party, no pats on the back, no Sgt. Pepper or any band marching around in the parking lot of the church. No one telling me how wonderful I am, or how much I have done for them. No email from Time magazine to interview me as one of the top preachers in the country. No call from the 'Today' show to comment on the latest crisis. It seems that no one noticed, or cares.

Boo hoo hoo! Poor me, poor me, poor me.

Then, I sat down to write my poem/prayer for the back of Sunday's bulletin, and the Holy Spirit reminded me of what this day and every day, what ministry, is all about:

i would prefer
to be left
leaning against the wall,
shuffling my two left feet,
watching the world
twirl by;
but you take me by the hand
to teach me
the dance steps
of grace;

when i walk near
the piano,
it shudders,
hoping
i will not sit down;
but you take my fingers
and place them on the keys,
whispering,
"play, play with joy, play!"

even with
the biggest bucket,
i can't carry a tune;
but you push me
out onto the stage,
introducing me as
the new soloist
in the Good News Choir.

i will celebrate your joy,
sing your hope,
play your love,
leaping and whirling
in your grace
forever!

Don't you just hate it when God does that?

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Playing the Silence

Mr. Pete, the Drum Man, is back for Vacation Bible School - and the kids are thrilled! They get to play on different sizes of drums, and try to learn something about rhythm. Perhaps not so surprising - the girls are seem interested in the different 'tones' the drums make; the boys just want to be the loudest!!!

This is Mr. Pete's ministry. As he exposes kids to the sound of the drums, their texture, their tones, he also exposes them to the gospel. He talks about how the kids (and the lucky adults who are with them) become a part of a community: the Drum Circle. Every drum has a different 'voice' and every voice is important to the circle. Every drum has a part, and if one part makes a mistake, the next drum or the circle brings us back onto the rhythm. He teaches them about beats, and about the sounds that can be made.

But Pete also teaches them about silence. In the teaching of a particular rhythm, he puts in a measure of silence. Boom, boom-boom, boom, boom-boom, silence, boom is the rhythm. And he has us hold our hands up in the air to play the silence. And Pete believes, as I think Jesus does, that silence is the hardest note to play - on any instrument: drums, piano, voice, life. But the silence is as important as all the sounds we make, and Pete wants the kids to listen to the sound that the silence canc reate.

Some people think that Jesus went away from the crowds and the disciples to recharge his batteries, to get some rest, to take a retreat, to be closer to God, to pray. All good and commendable choices, which few of us do ourselves. Me, I think he went away to listen to the silence he was trying to play in his heart.

We know how to be loud, we know how to soften our voices. We know how to argue, and we know how to whisper. We know how to talk and talk and talk. We know how to use words to intimidate, to manipulate, to criticize; we know how to play our voices so people will feel sorry for us, or love us, or want to rescue us.

But when do we learn to play the silence?

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Being Remembered

We all want to be remembered for something.

After developing an incredibly successful (and controversial) compute software company, Bill Gates has announced that he will donate 95% of his wealth to help people throughout the world.

And people will remember him.

After taking vows to remain inside her cloistered convent, Mother Teresa stepped into the streets of Calcutta, to serve the people of the world no one else wanted to touch.

And people will remember her.

When it seemed that no one could break through their set-in-stone perceptions of how to handle the problem, rock star Bono turns out to be the one who has convinced presidents and prime ministers to actually do something concrete about poverty in the world.

And people will remember.

We all want to be remembered for something.

This week, we are having our Vacation Bible School at church. And, so far, three different kids have come up to me and said, "I remember you! You're the guy we wrapped in toilet paper last year!!!"

Not exactly in the category of the others, but I'll take it!

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Fireflies

It all has to do with a scientific thingamabob called 'bioluminescence' which refers to thingamajig cells which contain a whatsit called luciferm. This whatsit can somehow make a gizmo called luciferase which, when combined with oxygen, makes a whatchamacallit commonly known to all as oxyluciferin.

And, of course, it all has to do with sex! At least, that's what the scientists tell us when we wonder how and why fireflies light up on a summer evening.

But maybe it's because Jesus, who couldn't wait for Thomas Edison to create the lightbulb, needed something to help him, since he liked to stay up late at night reading.

Or maybe God turned to the Spirit one night and said, "We need something to keep Jesus busy on summer evenings, instead of him running around creation all night long. Got anything up your sleeve that he could chase?"

Or maybe the Spirit saw that group of insomniac gnats that God had created, and sprinkled a little stardust on their tails, so they could find their way in the dark.

Me?

I just let them light my walk home from a late meeting at the church, whispering, "Wow!"

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

If not me . . .

Let's see:

- the hurricane season has started and there are
neighborhoods in Florida, Louisiana, Mississippi,
and Alabama which are still littered with debris
from storms from as long ago as two years;
- thousands have lost their lives, their loved ones,
their homes, their livelihoods from the earthquake
in Indonesia;
- two top executives of Enron have been convicted
for their roles in the fall of that corporation;
- former Vice-President Al Gore has released a
movie which provides a close-up look at the
consequences of global warming;
- 17 people have been arrested for possible
terrorism activities in Canada, a country which
prides itself on diversity and tolerance;
- and this year marks the 25th 'anniversary' of
the discovery of the AIDS virus.

Woe is us! Woe is me! We are a people who look around and see great grief, daunting devastation,unbelievable suffering. And when we go to the
sanctuaries of God, we hear God crying out, "who can I send? Who will go?"

Send me? "I don't think so" is the response many of us who follow Jesus seem to say. Call it compassion fatigue, call it xenophobia, call it 'focusing on our own before we reach out to others,' a lot of people are talking as if we just cannot do it any more, we just are not able to serve others, we just don't have the time or energy or resources to respond to God's call.

But what makes us so different from all the other generations which preceded us? What gives us some sort of exemption, some 'free pass' from having to respond with love, with hope, with reconciliation to a world that struggles to find its way? Every generation has faced tragedy, every generation has dealt with some sort of major crisis, every generation has had to decide HOW it would respond, not if it would.

On a cold, gray, grief-filled November Friday afternoon, I walked with my family down to our Presbyterian church to hear what the preacher had to say to us, to hear what comfort the Word would offer, to hear what God might say to those of us numbed by the news of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

And of all the passages he might have chosen, the preacher read from Isaiah 6, "In the year when King Uzziah died . . ."

It is in the years in which the king dies or the president's life is cut short that we see God high and lifted up before us, reminding us of who creates us and calls us.

It is in the years when the foundations of the world shake from the armies at war that the heavenly choirs sing of the One whose glorious peace waits to fill our lives.

It is in the years when people's ears are filled with the false promises of the politicians and the empty rhetoric of anger and hatred, that God reaches out to touch our lips so we can speak the Good news of hope, of grace, of steadfast love for all people.

It is in the years when we seem most broken that God's healing power is poured out upon us; it is in the years when we seem most helpless, that the Spirit is poured out upon us so we can help others; it is in the years when despair threatens to fill every crevice of our souls and our hearts shatter from the suffering we see before us that God makes Jesus most present in the world - through us!

It is in these years, and every year, and this year that God most needs us to minister to the world. It is in these years, and every year, and this year that God cries out, in pain and anguish, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?"

Then I said . . .

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

The Code

Well, have you seen it yet?

The 'Code', I mean? It's on all the news.
The interviews with the cast and director,
with the author, with folks from the church
and Opus Dei and every expert imaginable.

The protestors are out in front of the theaters,
telling people it is all a 'big lie!' And the
counter-protestors are reminding folks that
'Jesus loves Dan Brown' and Tom Hanks.
As for the counter-counter-protestors . . .
well, I'm not sure what they are doing. Oops!
Sorry, that's the media.

All because of a fictional movie, based on a
work of fiction, which supposedly recounts
the 'truth' that the church has engaged in a vast
conspiracy to keep a secret about Jesus.

Meanwhile, out in the real world where Jesus
truly operates

the poor are wondering when the church will break
the code of poverty;

the hungry have been waiting a long time for Christians
to hatch a plan to feed them;

the naked are hoping against hope that Jesus' followers
might just give them that extra coat in the closet they
no longer need;

the women and children in Darfur walk the dusty
roads to death, knowing the church has more important
things to do than to work together to end genocide;

and the thirsty are still waiting for that conspiracy
which will provide drinkable water for the world.

Have you seen them, yet?

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Waiting

what were they doing today?

cleaning toilets
trying to forget
their dreams
draining away?

maybe Peter wished
he was home
eating Passover
leftovers
trying to find
a way
out of his
wilderness?

did Joanna
have her Saturday list:
groceries to buy,
errands to run,
a soccer game,
a full honey-do jar?

were Herod and Pilate
nursing hang-overs
out too late last night
hitting every pub
on the Street of Tears
until they got
thrown out at the
Last Station?

were children
being shushed by
fear-ridden parents,
told
to stop playing
'soldiers and messiahs'?

did the angels
tip-toe
around heaven
afraid
to speak too
loudly
wondering
what with the Word
God was doing
behind that stone?

what were they doing today . . .

before God
yanked the legs
out
from under
death?

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Good Friday

will there be enough
nails?

i've brought one . . .
i found it in the street
after some neighbors
took off a door
to carry a paralyzed
friend
down the street
to some faith
healer;

a group of Galileans
came to the big city
for Passover
so
i had to put some
tables together last night
for their dinner party.
here's a
left-over nail;

years ago
i bought a cradle
at a yard sale in Nazareth.
just the other day
it finally fell apart;
i was going
to throw the pieces
into the garbage
but you can
have one of the nails
. . . if you need it.

on Good Friday

we never run
out of
nails.

(c) 2001 Thom M. Shuman

An Ordinary Table

an ordinary table:
shoved up
against the wall
of the upstairs guest room,
thick with the dust
of being forgotten;

an ordinary table:
stained with the tears
of the mother
watching her children
go off to school
for the first time;

an ordinary table:
polished with the elbows
of family members
leaning forward
to hear the stories
Grandpa has told
a million times;

an ordinary table:
scarred with the initials
of children
bored with their homework;

an ordinary table:
rushed into service
so that
an ordinary group of pilgrims
from Galilee
might eat together;

an ordinary table . . .

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

The Gospel of Judas

The media is all agog about the publication of the "Gospel of Judas," wondering what this will mean for Christianity, our beliefs,the world, yada, yada, yada. According to reports on the radio and TV today, Judas is portrayed as the 'hero' of the story, the only one to recognize Jesus for who he really is, and willing to sacrifice himself so that this revelation could be made to the entire world.

Judas intrigues a lot of us. Was he really just a mercenary of money, stealing from the group's common purse, and willing to sell his teacher for a few bucks? Was he as callous towards the poor, the oppressed, the outcast, as some of the gospels portray him? Was he the willing,or unwitting, pawn of the religious and political authorities of his day (or even the Evil One) to bring about the death of Jesus?

I'm not sure; I can't figure him out. Yet, I know that in John's gospel, he is included in the Last Supper, and that says something to me about Jesus' inclusion of Judas right up to the last moments of his life. In fact, when Jesus dips the 'morsel' and hands it to Judas, it is a traditional way of honoring the person. And an interesting way to treat the person who is about to betray you!

Of course, I can't figure Judas out, because I can't figure out my own relationship with Jesus.

After all, if Jesus is in the poor of the world, and I refuse to see them as sisters and brothers in Christ, what makes me different from Judas?

And if I think we should spend money on our own 'kind', whether they are in my church, my community, my country before helping any one else out, is my attitude that different from Judas?

And if Jesus hungers with the children on the garbage dumps of Rio de Janiero, and I am unwilling to share from the abundance I have; if Jesus is with those who have to drink polluted water while the good water is diverted to the resorts in their countries, and I don't say something about it; if Jesus is with the people dying in Darfur, and I am not beating down the doors of my government to get them to stop this genocide - if I am not willing to do any thing and everything I can for the lost, the last, the little, the least in our world, then aren't I betraying the very One who I say I want to live in my heart?

The disturbing news of the Passion story is how much I resemble Judas.

The good news is that, like Judas, Jesus will honor me by feeding me at his Table on Maundy Thursday, and then, as he did for Judas, he will go out and die for me so that, like Judas, I might be saved.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Cards

They have come, quite literally, from all over the world: emails, phone calls, messages telling us of prayers being offered for us, for Teddy, for the members of our congregation, for the caregivers, for the family of Joe Beaudoin, for the bailiffs in the court, for the judges and the legal system.

We've heard them, we've read them (over and over in most cases), we've clutched them close to our hearts and wept over the compassion, the love, the encouragement, the grace that is being shared by so many these last few weeks.

While we could never certainly 'rank' the messages from folks as to their 'value' to us (how to you put a value on grace?), one card that has especially touched our hearts came from Emily, a young woman about the same age as Teddy who, though now at college, grew up down the street from us. She wrote of her memories of Teddy when they were little kids, of the joy they shared, of riding bikes together when it seemed the day would never end, of the Halloween flashlight she got at one of Teddy's birthday parties. What a blessing to be reminded of those days.

And then there are the 'green cards' we have received every day since this part of the journey began. Someone who chooses to remain anonymous (but we know lives in Cincinnati according to the postmark) has sent a daily green postcard, with a scripture verse printed on it. We will probably never be able to thank the person, but he/she has sent us daily reminders

- that God continues to whisper hope and peace to us
when we are too mad to talk with God;

- to encourage us when we are standing knee deep in despair;

- to lift us up to God when we are so exhausted
that we can barely get out of bed.

What a marvelous ministry someone has undertaken! What a gift of grace, of hope, of trust, of faith in the future God has in store for us.

That's what comes in the green cards, in the card from Emily, in all the cards, calls, messages, email, hugs, meals, prayers, support which have come our way the last two weeks.

And we give thanks!

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Seeds

We walked into the lobby of the courthouse,
aware of all the media standing around, aware
of all the people watching. A stranger walked
up to us, and said, 'there are some folks who
would like to meet you, if that's okay.'

And they stepped forward - Jack and Bill,
brothers of the man whose life Teddy is accused
of taking. They could have nodded politely,
shook hands, murmured platitudes, stepped
away.

But God had something else in mind, and
the four of us stood on holy ground.

"We're here to support you," they said.
"We're here because we share pain and loss
with you; we're here to be with you and Teddy."

Grace's tears mingled with ours; Forgiveness
reached out and clasped our hands, drawing
us close; Reconciliation wrapped us in hugs.

These were not those businesslike, formal,
I'll-embrace-you-but-it-makes-me-uncomfortable,
passing the peace in church type hugs we give
(and receive) so often. These were huge, genuine,
from the heart and soul hugs which we all need
and so rarely receive (or give). These were the
seeds of healing that God has planted in our hearts,
and in theirs.

And the Holy Spirit, that Spirit of Peace, that
Spirit of Reconciliation, that Spirit of Grace
and Hope and Forgiveness, wept and bowed
her head, whispering "Amen."

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Ash Wednesday

even with lots of milk
and extra sugar,
i had trouble downing
my bowl of ashes
this morning;

i vacuum up
as many as i can,
but by the time
i empty the bag,
the ash bunnies
are back under the bed,
snickering at my futile efforts;

and after getting lost
with the Church Dog
this morning,
he simply turned around and followed
ashen footprints
back to our house;

now,
they rest at peace
(holy-oiled)
upon my forehead,
while you take me
into your heart,
rocking me gently
as the celebrant
cradles your Body
and feeds me
on your hope and grace.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

It's all around us, every day

All good things come to an end. In this case, one of my favorite television shows will be going off the air this May. NBC has announced the cancellation of "TheWest Wing".

Politics aside, it was a show marked by incredible writing, some amazing plot twists, and fine acting. Some of the characters were so real, many wished they could vote for them. Of course, like real life, there were the characters, (Toby Ziegler comes to mind) that you loved to hiss and boo!

Martin Sheen, the fine actor who played the president on the show, was interviewed the day after the cancellation was announced. He mentioned that his experience of being on the show was, "Amazing, incredible, grace-filled."

Grace-filled.

Now that is not a word one expects to emerge from the mouth of an actor on a TV show. While Sheen is a man of strong faith, it was still surprising to hear that phrase from his lips.

The reality, though, is that we rarely hear that phrase from anyone's lips these days. I go home and Bonnie asks how my day was and I might say something about a lot of meetings, stress, hospital visits, but she could probably count the times I have said 'grace-filled' on one finger.

People I ask, folks who go to this church, other churches, those who are clergy, those who are generous and good and kind, rarely use that phrase in describing their days or lives.

Yet, the evidence is all around us, isn't it? From a crisp, cold winter's night to a gorgeous sunrise; from children laughing at the movies to a daughter caring for her elderly mother; from folks willing to go to places like Pakistan, the Gulf Coast, Banda Ache to provide relief to those mentoring our children in schools - God's grace fills our lives, our days, our every moment.

Maybe, like Sheen, we need to develop the ear, the eye, the soul to see and hear and feel such grace throughout our days, so that when someone asks us, "How was your day, your week, your month, your job, your trip, your life, whatever?" our immediate response, our grateful response, will be simply,

"grace-filled."

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

The Patron Saint of Cynics

In the story of the call of Nathanael (you may
know him better as Bartholomew) told for
us in John 1:43-51, he asks a rather cynical
question of Philip, "Can anything good come
out of Nazareth?" Implying, of course, can
anyone good come out of that extremely small
town filled with extremely poor people.

But before we dismiss Nathanael and his
question, let's admit that he is the patron saint
of all us cynical people.

Can anything (or anyone) good come out of
Tehran or Baghdad? Many of us doubt it.

Can anything (or anyone) good come out of
Crawford, Texas; Hope, Arkansas; Glasgow,
Scotland; Perth, Australia; anywhere you want
to name? We have our doubts.

About 40 years or so ago, if anyone asked "Can
anything (or anyone) good come out of Montgomery,
Alabama?" the answer would have been a resounding
"NO!" Deep South Montgomery; racist Montgomery;
first capitol of the Confederacy Montgomery? Are
you kidding?

But then came the day when Rosa Parks was too tired
to move to the back of the bus; then came the moment
when a black minister named Martin Luther King, Jr.,
was asked to head up the boycott in that city; and then
came a few, then hundreds, and finally thousands of
folks coming from all those tiny, insignificant, poor
backwaters where we never expect anything, or anyone,
good to come from.

So today, let's remember, and give thanks, for Rosa,
Martin, and all those who, with their dreams, with
their hopes, with their lives answered the question
first asked by Nathanael so long ago.

And let's remember, and give thanks, for this patron
saint of cynics, who discovered for himself that, oh
yes, someone good could come out of Nazareth,
someone so good that He is able to bring hope
out of the worst cynic.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

One New Thing

Got your list done?

I've been working on my list of New Year
resolutions: walk more; eat more fruits and
fiber, less fat; lose that 'spare tire' around the
middle (though now it is more like a complete
set!). And you know what I noticed?

It's the same list I had in 2005. In fact, it is
the same list I had in 1995, 1985, 1975 . . .

it's always the same, old things I am working
at improving. There is no 'new' thing on my
list, that activity I have never tried, that event
I have never attended, that place I have never
visited.

We fall into the trap of thinking God uses the
same list year after year, that God will always
do things the way they have always been done.
Yet, the New Testament Lesson we read today
(Revelation 21:1-6a) reminds us that God is
in the business of 'newness': new heaven, new
earth, new Jerusalem, new me, new you.

Shouldn't surprise us, though. Scripture makes
it clear that God is always willing to risk, to dare,
to think (and do) outside the box, to do something,
everything new! And God wants us to be open to
that new thing offered to us, to that new person
who will enhance our life, to that new challenge
which will make us grow, to that new opportunity
we will have to serve.

So, let's tear up all our old, dated lists, and be
open to that one new thing (probably more,
actually) that God will do for us, to us, through
us.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent - Christmas Day

Read Isaiah 61

when the broken toys
are set out
by the curb,
maybe then
we can find the time
to mend the broken-hearted:

when the Christmas charges
are all paid off:
maybe then
we can fund health care
for the poorest
of God's children;

when we are finally free
of all the parties,
the gatherings, the obligations:
maybe then
we can notice
the prisoners;

when the tree comes down,
when the lights are put away,
when the ornaments are packed up:
maybe then
we can wipe away
the tears
of the mourners.

when God's Spirit
comes upon us
(and it did during the night
whether we noticed
or not)
maybe then
we will know
(and live)
the real meaning
of Christmas.

Prayer

Maybe when the new year begins,
God of Bethlehem, we will know
that we are called to be children of
the Spirit, those who can repair our
ruined cities, who can welcome strangers,
who can be sown as the seeds of your
rightousness. Maybe, just maybe. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: Christmas Eve-B

Read Isaiah 60

Here in the States, the National Toy Hall
of Fame is inducting a new 'member.'
Joining such luminaries as Barbie, Legos,
Mr. Potato Head, and Slinky is:

a cardboard box.

Yes, the folks at the Hall of Fame have
finally recognized what all parents (and
kids) have known for years - the best 'toy'
to stimulate imagination is usually the
box in which the toy you spent a lot of
money on comes in. Especially if it is
a grown-up toy, like a refrigerator, or
washer or dryer.

Forget about the hottest video games;
forget about the shiny bike;
forget about all the new clothes;
and watch in wonder and joy as the kids
turn the thing you would put out with
the trash into the best Christmas gift
of all.

After all, what else can be the Titanic
one minute and the next a rocket to the
moon? What can be a souped up race
car in the morning, and a limousine taking
a young 'bride' to her wedding that afternoon?
What other gift allows, no, encourages
children to use their imagination the way
a big, empty cardboard box does?

One of the attributes of God that is revealed
to us over and over again in the book of
Isaiah is imagination. God is no 'let's do
it the way we've always done it" type.
God does not 'repeat' the same old tricks.
And if God does not expect us to always
behave as we did before we met God,
why should we expect God to stay the same?

No, God is endlessly creative; God is
amazingly imaginative.

God takes the most hopeless situation
and turn it into a miracle. God takes death
and twists it into life; God takes suffering
and creates salvation; God takes people who
over and over refuse to be obedient and
faithful, and turns us into the ones who will
help bring in the kingdom.

God is the one who takes all the 'toys' the
world would offer us and dumps them out
on the floor. And then, God uses that great
big empty box to imagine a world at peace,
a people redeemed, a creation restored to
wholeness, a Baby who shows all the grown
ups how to love, to care, to serve.

Prayer

Imagine us at peace with one another, Prince
of Peace; imagine us able to talk with each
other, Wonderful Counselor; imagine us
willing to become poor and weak in order
to serve your children, Mighty God; imagine
us able to be faithful, not just for a few
moments on Sunday morning, but in all
the moments we live, Everlasting Father.
And then imagine us going out and telling
all the people we meet of the One we have
found this night in a stable in Bethlehem,
and how that little Baby has transformed
our lives forever. Imagine that, God,
imagine that! Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 4th Friday-B

Read Isaiah 58

A friend of mine refers to me as a
'curmudgeon-in-training' and I have
to admit that there are times when I do
resemble that remark! I guess I have
reached that age (that occurs in every
generation) where the things (music, movies,
TV, behavior) of the younger crowd
annoy me.

I do hope that I have managed to become
a little 'looser' in worship. I enjoy telling
a good joke in a sermon, and find that the
genuine, spontaneous occasions of laughter
in a service can add to its meaning. But,
I still feel uncomfortable when people applaud
for the choir/musicians, or with some of the
'gimmicks' (IMHO) that some churches resort
to, or some of the so-called praise tunes that
are combined with rather insipid lyrics.

It seems like even God turns curmudgeonly
when it comes to worship. What we think
makes for good worship doesn't seem to float
God's boat, according to the prophet. Some
of the words we use sound hollow to God;
some of the actions we take don't begin to
tickle God's fancy; some of the songs we sing
seem to put God to sleep.

But, when we leave the communion Table and
go out and feed folks at the nearby shelter, that
turns God on; when we take off our winter coat
and drape it around a shivering child, that catches
God's attention; when we stop turning holy days
into holidays - then we will discover that true
worship we need.

Then we won't need to drag oursleves out of bed;
then we won't need to grumble as we get the
kids ready; then we won't dread Sundays, but we
will delight in them, even as we delight in
the Lord who has given the sabbath to us.

Prayer

Sender of Sabbaths: as we serve others, as we
remove the burdens of others, as we clothe the
naked and feed the hungry, may we discover that
we are worshiping you in the way you would have
us do so. In Jesus' name. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 4th Thursday-B

Read Isaiah 55:1-12

There's still time, don't worry!
Our biggest, best, blow-out sale of
the season starts Friday at 4:00 a.m.
and runs until the shelves are empty!
So, come!

Don't forget the internet. If you order
online by noon on the 23rd, we absolutely,
positively guarantee (no money back, though)
delivery on Christmas Eve day (for a very small
surcharge, of course; but you will hardly feel
the pain, we guarantee).
So, come!

We will not be open for 'business' on Christmas
Day. If you want to celebrate the birth of
Jesus (and see a really wonderful production
at the same time!), be sure to attend one of
our 17 Christmas Eve Extravaganza Lollapaloozas
beginning at 8:00 a.m.
So, come!

And we do, don't we? Running out for that last
minute sale; chasing after that elusive 'perfect' gift;
looking for one more thing to stuff down the
stocking of our loved ones.

But how much time have we spend spend trying
to find those living waters that can quench that
thirst that continually parches our souls? Or
did we get to the bakery in time to purchase some
of that Bread of life that was on sale, or did we
think we could get by without it - again? Have
we managed to seek after the Lord, as diligently
as we tried to locate the hottest new toy?

The world entices us with all sorts of "things"
that are supposed to guarantee us the abundant
life.

When will we come to the One who can give
us the life we so desperately long for?

Prayer

We are still waiting for you to come to us,
God. Or are you waiting for us to come to
our senses, and seek you out? Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 4th Wednesday-B

Read Isaiah 52:13-53:12

We have no trouble telling the prosperous
of our times - for they have no trouble
showing us:
- their beach homes,
the ski chalets,
the apartment in the city;
- the Hummer with a DVD player
in the headrest of every seat,
and the shiny spinning rims;
- the clothes, the planes, the 'toys'.

And so, it is easy for us (and the rest
of the world) to overlook the ones
whose faces are aged and lined early
in life by hours, days, weeks, months,
and years of caring for the autistic child,
the parkinsoned mother, the alzheimered
father.

And when the press makes a big deal
out of the breakup of (fill in the name
of your favorite celebrity couple),
there is no space for the story of the
couple who have spent the last 40
years serving the homeless and hungry
down at the inner city (of any city!)

And when 'breaking news' tells us of
the politicians latest vote to give more
to the rich, we turn away from those
who are filthy because they have no
running water in their apartments;
from those who are despised because
of their accent or color; from those who
have been crushed by the poverty the
world claims exists only in their
unwillingness to work.

It's easy to tell the prosperous, the
favored, the valued in our society;
so why does the prophet tell us that
the servant, the marred, the rejected,
'those' people! will be exalted by God?

Doesn't he read the papers, or watch TV?

Prayer

What a perversion of your dreams, of your
hopes, of your love for the world, Advent
God, that we exalt all the wrong people and
overlook the ones you are bending down to
lift up. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 4th Wednesday-B

Read Isaiah 52:13-53:12

We have no trouble telling the prosperous
of our times - for they have no trouble
showing us:
- their beach homes,
the ski chalets,
the apartment in the city;
- the Hummer with a DVD player
in the headrest of every seat,
and the shiny spinning rims;
- the clothes, the planes, the 'toys'.

And so, it is easy for us (and the rest
of the world) to overlook the ones
whose faces are aged and lined early
in life by hours, days, weeks, months,
and years of caring for the autistic child,
the parkinsoned mother, the alzheimered
father.

And when the press makes a big deal
out of the breakup of (fill in the name
of your favorite celebrity couple),
there is no space for the story of the
couple who have spent the last 40
years serving the homeless and hungry
down at the inner city (of any city!)

And when 'breaking news' tells us of
the politicians latest vote to give more
to the rich, we turn away from those
who are filthy because they have no
running water in their apartments;
from those who are despised because
of their accent or color; from those who
have been crushed by the poverty the
world claims exists only in their
unwillingness to work.

It's easy to tell the prosperous, the
favored, the valued in our society;
so why does the prophet tell us that
the servant, the marred, the rejected,
'those' people! will be exalted by God?

Doesn't he read the papers, or watch TV?

Prayer

What a perversion of your dreams, of your
hopes, of your love for the world, Advent
God, that we exalt all the wrong people and
overlook the ones you are bending down to
lift up. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 4th Tuesday-B

Read Isaiah 49:13-18

Growing up in the 'Deep South' of the United States, it seems that the only time I heard the prophets in a positive way was at Christmas, with either Isaiah (WonderfulCounselour . . .) or Micah (But you, Bethlehem Ephratha . . . ) being read.

On all other occasions, if the prophets were read in church, it was to warn us (of God's impending doom), to scare us (because God was coming to beat us), to urge us to repent (or else God will forget about us), to remind us to do good deeds.

After all, I remember being told, God is up in heaven keeping account of every word I speak, every thought I had, every thing I did. Indeed, God kept a ledger. There was that golden-covered, tooled with fine leather book into which the names of all the good folks went; and there was that tattered, ink-stained, much-thumbed-through thick journal where God listed all the bad things people did (especially you, Thom!).

And then, one day I ran across this wonderful passage from Isaiah (which I hope you have read!).

Forget us? How can God forget - that would be like a mother not kissing the skinned knees of her son; that would be like a father not sitting up late at night until his daughter comes home from her date!

Write down our names? Yes, God does that.

But not in any book - good or bad. God is not an accountant, God is a lover. And so, our names are written on the palms of God's hands. Not in a book that can be lost, or shelved, or given away, but in the one place where God will always see us, right next to the scars of the One who came to set us free from fears, from doubts, from death, from sin.

Prayer

Our names are written in the palms of your hands, Compassionate God. What better reason do we have to sing for joy and to break forth into carols of praise? In Jesus' name, we pray.
Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 4th Monday-B

Read Isaiah 44:1-5

In today's world, it is a marvel to look at what athletes wear. Once it was just the school or team colors, but now it is about advertising. The players wear the shoes made by whatever company has a contract with the coach; shirts (and sometimes pants) are adorned with the logos of banks, of airlines, or other corporations. With the race car drivers here in the states, their cars (and the clothes) have so many badges/decals from so many different companies, do they ever wonder, "who do I belong to?"

Isaiah tells us there will be a time where we, as believers, will have no doubt about that question. Yahweh assures us, through the prophet, that when the waters of life flow through the depths of our souls, and when the spirit is planted securely in our hearts, then we will want everyone to know that we are the Lord's.

Has that time come yet for you? Are you willing to let people know the name by which you should be called? Do you have this believe posted on your website? Have you inscribed on the palms of your hands, "I am the Lord's"?

Or is it still so much easier to wear Tommy's, or Diane's, or Abercrombie's names?

Prayer

Why am I hesitant to let folks know that I belong to you, Assuring God? Why do I keep writing your name on my hands in water colors that easily wash off? If you are willing to form me in your image, help me to be willing to inform others that I am yours. In hope, I pray. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 4th Sunday-B

Read Isaiah 43:14-25

It seems to be a common human urge. To go back: back to some storied past, some Golden Age, those good ol' days that we seem to miss.

If the church could only become the way it was 40 years ago; if schools only would reinstitute prayer; if society could only go back to the "simple" life we all knew as kids. Those are the refrains we sing.

Now look at the song God sings to theHebrews in exile in Babylon:
'do not remember the past,
don't think about the good ol' days:
watch and see the new thing I do!'

Instead of parting the sea as before, God will build a highway through Death Valley. Rather than turning a rock into a drinking fountain, God will make living waters readily available; instead of freedom from slavery, God will take away their sins.

Will they notice, or grumble that "that' snot the way we have done it in the past"? Will they pay attention, or write another book about the Golden Age of Babylon? Will they sit at home waiting for God to pass over their houses, or will they be waiting at the station to board the trian?

We can spend a lot of time reliving the past, or we can move into God's future. What will we do?

Prayer

It seems that we look in the wrong place for you, Holy One. We look backwards into the past for a glimpse of you, but you are out there ahead of us, moving forward, waiting for us to catch up. Help us to set down what we yearn for, and grasp what you want to give us - new hopes, new life, new joy. In Advent hope, we pray. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 3rd Saturday-B

Read Isaiah 43:8-13

If you watch crime shows on television, you have seen episodes where the police are questioning witnesses to the crime, and everyone gives a different version of what happened. The testimony of the witnesses is so varied, that it is of little use to the authorities. And these witnesses are usually folks with good eyesight and hearing. Imagine what the police would have to deal with in trying to question witnesses who are sight or hearing impaired.

Isaiah tells us that it is precisely these people who are called into 'court' to give testimony about the One, True, and Holy God - Yahweh! Not those with PhD's sewn on their sleeves; not those who have years of experience in studying the Greek and Hebrew texts; not those who can quote Aquinas, Luther, Calvin, Barth, and others without having to crack open a book.

No, it is the people we overlook; it is the least, the little, the lost, the last of the world; it is those that we call challenged, handicapped, disabled. They cannot see, so how could they tell us about a sunset? They cannot hear, so what do they know of angels' choruses? They cannot talk, so why should we bother?

Yet these are the ones God puts on the witness stand. These are the people God chooses to give testimony. These are the ones God decides are best able to tell of what God has been doing in the world.

It's the differently-gifted folks, Isaiah says, that best see what God has done. They are the ones who can point us to the wonders, the miracles, the salvation God is accomplishing in our midst. And I have one of those witnesses in my family, in Teddy, our mentally retarded and developmentally delayed son.

Teddy couldn't quote a Bible verse to you, but he knows without a doubt that God loves him. Teddy would think that John Calvin is the latest country singer on the radio. But when he comes forward to take communion, tears off a big chunk of bread, dunks it in the cup, pops it in his mouth, and grins, saying, "ummm, good!" he bears witness to each and every one of us.

Prayer

Open our eyes to the ones who truly see you; open our ears to the ones who hear your whisper; open our hearts to the One who comes to fill us with all your gifts, that we might bear witness with joy, with hope, with grace. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 3rd Friday-B

Read Isaiah 42:1-9

The movie "Chariots of Fire" came out when I was in seminary. In the movie, the sister of Eric Liddell asks him to stop running and return to the mission field. He responds, "I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure."

Well, some of my classmates were livid with such a remark. That certainly smacks of works righeousness; and how dare any one imply that what I do (or anyone else does) causes God to reward us - with pleasure or anything else!

That's why I like this passage from Isaiah. One of the famed 'Servant Songs', it clearly tells us that God is not only capable of delighting in us (which I think was the intent in what Liddell said in the movie), God chooses to delight in us! But not because we run fast; not because we write well; not because we are stronger; not because we are smarter.

God delights in us when we serve!

And in a culture that exalts accomplishment; in a time when athletes demand millions and millions in salaries (and usually produce less and less); in a world where one strives to be No. 1, to be the most famous, to outdo everyone else, the prophet of Advent reminds us that God's people (that's you and me) are called to be servants.

Which doesn't necessarily mean doing menial work that no one else wants. It doesn't mean taking a pay cut to prove how 'humble' you are. It doesn't mean being a doormat for everyone else.

What we are called to do is to bring forth justice (note the word is used three times in the first four verses). It means making sure that the widows and orphans are taken care of, not just at Christmas, but every day of the year; it means taking God's light into all the shadowed corners of this world; it means mending those who are broken, and bringing new hope to those whose lives are growing dim.

And when we do these things, when we are faithful and obedient to God's call to servanthood, when we gladly reach out and take the hand of those in need, then we will feel God's pleasure, forever and ever.

Prayer

I don't know why you insist on choosing to work through human beings - like Jesus, like me, like others. I'd rather run down the street, than clear it of poverty, Calling God. I'd rather spend time making more money than mentoring a young person. I'd rather get an award for my hard work, than serve food down at the shelter. But you have called me to service, Choosing God, and so I will listen and answer your call. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 3rd Thursday-B

It's the silence that gets to us.

Someone is mad and speaks their mind, and then doesn't say another word, while the silence stretches between us;

we've hurt a friend (and know it) and we say 'sorry' (and mean it). And when we stop talking (so they can graciously accept our apology), the pause goes on and on.

The silence had to have gotten to the people of God. The long pause in the conversation with Yahweh kept going on and on and on. The last word was about judgment, about Babylon, about exile.

And then silence.

And now, after some 160 years, God speaks again . . .

Read Isaiah 40:1-11

The sound of silence is broken with words of hope, of joy, of new promise.

To a people in exile, God comes to be with them in their lostness;

to a people who weep by the rivers flowing through Babylon, God comes singing of comfort and hope;

to a people who open the newspaper every day and read the bad news on every page, God comes bringing the good tidings (gospel) that freedom is at hand;

to a people who believed that God's final word was 'you're fired!', God comes saying, 'I'm not done with you yet.'

To all of us who are overwhelmed by the silence of the world, God comes with lips singing of joy and arms to gather us up and carry us home.

Prayer

Break the silence which weighs us down, Comforting God, with your joyful good news that you are in our midst: to restore, to give hope, to lead us into your kingdom. In Advent joy, we pray. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 3rd WEdnesday-B

Read Isaiah 39:1-8

In this season of choirs of angels singing
of joy, some folks hear only a funereal dirge
in the recesses of their minds.

In this time of looking to heaven in hope
of seeing the Star over Bethlehem, there
are those for whom their days are a living
hell.

Even in the churches filled with Advent
banners, fragrant greenery, candles lighting
the Way, and children whose eyes sparkle
with eager anticipation, people sit next to
us overflowing with fears, bent by
anxieties, overcome with doubts.

These are our friends, our neighbors, our
coworkers, our spouses, our children, our
parents . . . and, if we are completely honest,
even ourselves.

We are the people who wonder if God really
will do something new this year. We question
whether or not the Baby will be born in our
hearts this Christmas. We look back over our
lives and see only despair, fear, pain, struggle;
all the confirmations that there is no future,
no joy, no peace. As Isaiah says, there is "nothing
left" in our lives, in our hearts, in our spirits.

We know, better than anyone else can, how
the Israelites felt as this first section of the
prophet comes to an end. We look to the
horizon, and all we can see is Babylon - in
whatever form our fears take. We seek
community, and find ourselves living in
exile. We look for friendship, only to discover
we are surrounded by strangers.

And we ask the age-old question: 'where is God?'

Prayer

We mourn; we wail; we watch; we wait.
Where are you, God? Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 3rd Tuesday-B

Read Isaiah 35:1-6a

At breakfast this morning, Bonnie asked me
if I would have commuted Tookie Williams'
sentence. (He was the co-founder of the Crips
street gang, and was executed last night after
being convicted of murdering four people).

I told her that if I had been governor of California,
I would have commuted his death sentence to life
in prison without parole. Of course, if I were
governor of any state, I would commute the death
sentence of any inmate on death row.

And, if I could, I would commute the sentence
Teddy lives under, of always being mentally
retarded, always being different from most
people (especially those he feels closest to),
always having to live in places other than where
he would choose.

And, if I could, I would commute the sentence
that Teddy, and my friend Joanne, and David's
sister, and thousands and thousands of others
live under of always wondering if that tummy
ache, that twinge, that ache in the bone means
that the cancer has returned.

But I can't. As much as I wish, and want, and
would if I could, it won't happen.

But Isaiah tells us that one day it will happen,
because God can do it, and will do it. Sin,
death, the dysfunctions and disabilities and
differences that plague so many people, will
be taken away from them. Not only will the
blind see, but cancer survivors won't have
to lay awake worrying. Nor only will the deaf
hear, but children will leap out of wheelchairs
and begin dancing. Not only will the speechless
be able to sing, but people who were once retarded
will win the Nobel Prize for mathematics.

Of course, the frustration is that God will not do
it until God is ready. But the promise is there.
So in the meantime, all I can do, all any of us
can do is

'Be strong, do not fear!'

Prayer

It is never easy to be strong, Compassionate God,
when it is our children, our spouses, our friends,
ourselves who are ill, who suffer, who die. So,
strengthen us with your grace, and send your Spirit
to take away our fears, even as we await that day
when the only strength we need is to lift our
loved ones up and swing them up in the air. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 3rd Monday-B

Read Isaiah 32:1-8

Surely someone will come:
to bring peace to a warring world;
to touch the hurting with healing grace;
to hand out hope to the people the world ignores;
to touch the oil of gladness to the lips
of those who mourn.

Surely someone will come:
to water our fallow souls
and plant the seeds
of justice and righteousness
deep in our hearts.

Surely someone will come:
to be the oasis
where our parched spirits
can be refreshed
so we can serve others.

Surely someone will come:
to shade our eyes
from the bright glare
of society's seductions.

Surely someone will come?

Prayer

Indeed you have come to us, Approaching God:
in the sheaves of hope Jesus carries in his arms,
in the healing grace of his fingertips, in the joy
of his heart that is shared with all people. May
we receive you as you come to us in this day,
this season, this life you have given us. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 3rd Sunday-B

Read Isaiah 25:6-10a

God is coming to be with us.

But it's not just the fact that God is coming
to be with us which the prophet celebrates.
It is also the joyous good news that the
very Kingdom of God is arriving.

And how do we know this?

The royal throne, the seat of absolute power,
will be replaced with a manger, which holds the
One who has set aside his equality with God
to become one of us.

The palace, with all its gold, its embroidered
finery, its jewel-encrusted china, will be torn
down as God takes up residence in a barn.

The center of God's rule will move from
the royal city, where kings plot and armies
clash, where politicians hire speech writers
to come up with the best sound bites,
where high priests dine in splendor
as the poor serve in despair, to tiny,
insignificant Bethlehem of Ephrathah,
where choirs of angels proclaim the birth
of the Messiah.

The One we wait for is coming to be with
us, the prophet proclaims: in unexpected places,
at times not on our calendar, in people we would
normally choose to ignore.

God is coming to be with us: to upset our
applecarts filled with wants, to feed us with
peace and hope till our bellies ache, to grasp the
hem of the divine robe and wipe away our tears,
to take away the shroud of death with which we
have wrapped ourselves.

God is coming: for no better reason than to
save us.

Prayer

Come. Please come. Do not delay, do not wait
any longer. Come, God-with-us, come. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 2nd Saturday-B

Read Isaiah 25:1-5

The story of our faith begins in a garden
(see Genesis), and ends in a city (the new
Jerusalem of Revelation). So, it should
not surprise us that cities stand under God's
will, and God's chastening.

And it seems that the cities back in Isaiah's
time were no different than our modern cities.
The city growls at the homeless, who are only
looking for shelter on a winter's night, hoping
they will leave the city limits and be someone
else's problem.

The city is on the prowl for the poor, making
sure they know which neighborhoods are theirs -
the one with few stores, with fewer services,
but with more police, more rundown housing,
more problems with sewage, with water, with lights.

The city sows the seeds for greed as leadership spends
millions on demands from corporations and sports teams,
who threaten to leave if the money is not forthcoming,
while schools disintegrate and funding for medical
services for the poor are cut.

Yet, there is hope, Isaiah tells us. God's great powers
of reversal will be at work once again, when the city
becomes the place where the homeless find refuge
in God's heart (and ours), and God's hands (along with
ours) shelter the poor with hope, with peace, with love.

The only thing we have to decide is which city we
want to live in.

Prayer

We live in our comfortable suburbs, using the city
only for sporting events, fancy meals, and shopping.
We know which neighborhoods to avoid, and which
streets not to drive down. And so, we miss seeing
you, Reversing God, sweeping up the broken glass,
giving flu shots to the poor, mentoring children in
the schools we ignore. Help us to move in with
you and rebuild our ruined cities. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 2nd Friday-B

Read Isaiah 19:19-22

As we prepare for Advent, are we prepared
for God to do something new and unexpected?
Or should God only operate according to
what we expect?

As we ready ourselves to celebrate the grace
which came down at Christmas, are we ready
for God to pour out that grace on others,
especially the people we don't like?

As we anticipate the birth of the One who
comes with healing in one hand and hope
in the other, can we accept the notion that
the Babe might want to offer those gifts
to people who have hurt us?

Isaiah tells us this is the way God operates.
Unexpectedly, gracious to all, willing to
heal even those who have caused us pain.

Egypt (you mean the Egypt that enslaved the
Hebrews, who worked them to death, who would
not let them go free) will be delivered, just like
the Hebrews, just like us.

They will find themselves, the prophet tells us,
in a time of oppression. And they will cry out.
And when they cry out, God (as God seems to do
to everyone who cries out) will hear and will
respond, And then (just like the Hebrews, just
like us), they will know God, they will worship
God, they will make promises to God.

And there is more - God will heal them as well.

Why? Because that is what God does.

Yes, God can judge; yes, God can smite; yes, God
can destroy.

But best of all, God listens, God delivers, God
restores, God heals, God loves.

The Hebrew children who were oppressed;
the Egyptians with their history of oppression;
even us.

Listening, delivering, restoring, healing, loving.
Now that's something to prepare for!

Prayer

Heal us, Restoring God, for we cry out to you.
Weighed down by the desire for more, oppressed
by narcissim, driven to distraction by the demands
of our culture - hear us and set us free. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 2nd Thursday-B

Read Isaiah 14:1-2

I may be wrong, but I don't think the Christ Child is turning over in the manger because I might say 'Happy Holidays' to someone instead of 'Merry Christmas." And I don't believe God loses any sleep over the fact that a school may choose to have a 'holiday' program rather than a Christmas one, or that a business has a 'holiday tree' instead of a Christmas tree.

But I do think that God is bothered by the fact that so many folks choose to spend so much time arguing about which greeting, which phrase, which usage is right - especially when there are so many people in need of a word of hope, of grace, of joy.

I do believe that the Christ Child weeps because we choose to hold so much resentment and express so much anger towards people who don't appreciate the "reason for the season" - as if the reason God became human was to make it okay to speak so judgmentally and unkindly about those who are also God's children.

I am pretty sure the Spirit of Advent must shake her head whenever we try to blame the politicians, the stores, the corporations for 'taking Christ out of Christmas' when so many of us will spend more money in these few weeks than we have probably given all year to feed the hungry, or clothe the naked, or nurse the sick back to health.

We can celebrate the birth of Jesus by continuing to choose blame, anger, resentment, judgment in this holiest of seasons. Or we can, like Isaiah tells us God does, choose to have compassion.

Prayer

We would not like to open our presents on Christmas and discover them filled with the ashes of bitterness, or the scraps of anger from our hearts. So help us, Desire of the Ages, to crave compassion, to wish for wisdom, to glean grace in the coming days, so we might live more like you. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 2nd Wednesday-B

Read Isaiah 12 (don't worry, it's only 6 verses!)

Dusty has moved into our hearts (and home). Though he has only been with us for two days, it seems a lot longer. And while no one will ever be able to replace Cocoa the Wonder Dog, Dusty will have his own adventures, his own personality, his own stories to tell.

Dusty is a 3 1/2 year-old golden retriever who was put up for adoption by his owners because they are moving to a smaller place that cannot accomodate a large dog. We found him through a marvelous rescue group called GRRAND (if you wanted, you could find Dusty's picture on their website www.grrand.org under 'Golden Boys'). The providential part of the story is that Dusty literally lived right around the corner from us. In fact, Cocoa and I used to see him when we would go by his house on our walks.

And as a retriever, Dusty naturally loves water. When he is thirsty, he runs over to his dish and slurps up several mouthfuls, splashing and making a great noise. When he comes in from a long walk, or playing in the backyard, he heads over and drinks deeply from this simple gift, reviving his lagging energy.

Most of the time, when I am fatigued from ministry, from life, from battling the bureaucrats who try to convince me they know what is "best" for Teddy, I revive myself with chocolate or caffeine, not God's living waters. When my soul is running on empty and I thirst for something to fulfill me, it is easy to forget the simple gifts of friendship, of silence, of peace that God gives me, and to turn to things more stimulating.

Maybe this Advent, I need to dip my bucket into the wells of salvation more often and drink more deeply.

Prayer

Am I nervous to stir your living waters, Wellspring of Joy, because I think someone might need to drink before me? Am I afraid to splash and make noise with the salvation you offer to me, because someone might point at me and laugh? Revive me, Tender Heart, that I might sing your praises and give you thanks. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 2nd Tuesday-B

Read Isaiah 11:1-9

Chapter 10 of Isaiah ends with the ax chopping down the forests, leaving a field of stumps. Perhaps, as they heard this pronouncement, the people thought of the stump mentioned by the prophet back in chapter 6 (vs. 13), the stump representing failure, disaster, the reality that all has been lost.

We've all had such stumps littered through our lives, haven't we? Relationships that could not grow; downsizing/redundancy at work; neighbors who built high fences around us; promises that were broken before the words had a chance to be fully heard. We know the sense of loss, of despair, of hopelessness such stumps signify in our lives.

But as we discover over and over again, God cannot remain angry for too long. For in the midst of unbearable despair comes the odd word that God (once again!) is going to do something new.

For from this stump will come that first fragile, green shoot. Yes, it will bend in the winds of the world, but it will not break. Yes, it will struggle against all the terrors of our times, but it will succeed to produce: first one leaf, then another, and a third, a fourth, and so on. Yes, people will laugh and point, and claim that nothing can grow from that old stump. But eventually, in God's good time, it will be the shade where enemies can come out of the heat of anger and fear, and drink a glass of lemonade and begin to talk to one another.

This is how our God always operates. Taking the last and making them first, taking the least and making them the most valuable, taking the lost and carrying them in the divine Heart, taking the little and making them great in the kingdom.

God takes the stump of failure and fear in Judah and creates a new people.

God takes the stump of the cross and bursts forth with new life on Easter morning.

And God will take whatever stump is in your life and will bring forth that shoot of hope, of newness, of grace, of joy.

Prayer

Dissuade us from trying to root out those stumps in our lives, Gardener of Creation, so that you can produce Advent hope, Christmas joy, Easter life, and Pentecostal passion in our hearts. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 2nd Monday-B

Read Isaiah 10:1-4

I have no doubt that God is talking to the politicians here. All those folks who always manage to find the funds for their pet projects, and are not embarassed one bit when they have to cut funding for housing for the homeless, feeding programs for the hungry, medical care for children.

And I am convinced that those faceless bureaucrats who sit in windowless, airless, graceless offices are the ones being condemned here. You know, the people who shuffle folks around as so many pieces of paper; the ones who are trained to deny (routinely) 80% of the insurance claims they process; the folks who spend all day not noticing that their decisions affect real human beings.

Of course, God is singling out the church officials who travel in comfort and eat in fine restaurants; who believe the church is best served by establishing national offices in expensive complexes; who step over the homeless as they go from their hotels to the local conference center for another round of discussions about compassion and hope.

After all, God certainly can't be talking about me, right?

Prayer

I am right, aren't I, Master of the Universe?
You aren't talking about (or to) me (I hope and pray). Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: 2nd Sunday-B

Read Isaiah 9:2-7

Other than Luke 2:1-14, this may be the most familiar of all the Advent/Christmas passages used by the church. Normally read on ChristmasEve/Day, this beloved poetry helps us to celebrate the birth of the One we call the Christ Child.

And then, like the ornaments on the tree, we put the passage back into its box and store it up in the attic, or down in the basement, to wait in the darkness until it is needed next Advent and Christmas.

But like the Beatitudes, Psalm 23, 1 Corinthians13, and others, isn't this one of those passages that we should read every week in church, if not every day in our private devotions?

After all, is Christmas Eve the only time we find ourselves stumbling in the darkness of our culture, groping our way as we try to find the Light switch?

Is Advent the only season when we hear the boots trampling on the oppressed, when the burdens of our lives stoop our shoulders, when we yearn for that peace which will never end?

Is Christmas Day the only time we need counsel from God; the only day we think justice should be upheld in our society; the only moment we can remember why it is God came to us in that tiny Babe?

Maybe, like the new covenant another prophet speaks about, we need to engrave these words upon our hearts, so they are not just a once-a-year reminder of what God has done for us, and continues to do, in the Child who has been born for us.

Prayer

Holy God, may your passion continue to be multiplied in our lives, not just one day a year, but on all the ones which follow. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: First Saturday - B

Read Isaiah 8:16-22

when the crowd is rushing
to get to the malls;

when the television
drowns with ads;

when the songs
on the radio come
one-right-after-the-other
with no silence in between:

i will wait.

when fear sings a lullaby
to my faith;

when worry nibbles at the edges
of my fear;

when doubt becomes a worn slipper
i ease my feet into:

i will hope.

i will wait,
i will hope,
i will . . .

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: First Friday - B

Read Isaiah 7:10-17

you come . . .
not when
we are ready,
but when our defenses are up,
so you can batter
our hardened hearts;

you come . . .
not when
we deserve it,
but when we are making
mud pies with sin;

you come . . .

not when
we are surrounded
with a host of friends,
but when we are trapped
in the dark soul's loneliness;

you come . . .

not when
we have made the way smooth for you,
but when we have fallen
into the potholes of our pride;

you come . . .

not because you need to,
but because you want to.

so come,
Immanuel,
come.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent: First Thursday of Advent - B

Read Isaiah 6:1-8

Moses is out raking the leaves in his backyard when the tree catches on fire, and he hears God's call to go speak to Pharoah and bring God's children to freedom. Jeremiah is in his room playing video games, when God interrupts to tell him it is time to get to work plucking up and pulling down, planting and building.

But Isaiah? Right out of the starting gate, he's uttering strong words, harsh words, words of terror, words of judgment, words of warning. Condemnation flows easily from his lips, songs of unfaithfulness fill the air, injustice is roundly denounced.

And now, he decides to take a breather and go to church. Certainly there, in the temple, amid the incense, the psalms, the prayers, the priest doing priestly things, Isaiah can find the solace, if not the silence, his soul needs.

But the winged servants of the Master of the Universe disturb his reverie singing of God's holiness. Smoke fills the temple, and the building quakes as if, once more, God is appearing at Mount Sinai. And Isaiah finds himself being called, and responds in the only way he can, "Here am I; send me!"

So God sends him, Not just to speak words, but to model a life; not just to talk about judgment, but to show what grace has done for him; not just to warn the people about the dangers of breaking God's covenant, but to demonstrate how to keep that covenant; not just to condemn a community, but to stand with them, for however long it takes, until God's reconciling love can restore them to wholeness.

Which is what God does in the Child of Bethelehem, isn't it?

Prayer

Here we are, Lord God, send us. Send us to bring hope, to bring joy, to bring peace, to bring wholeness to all those who stand with their hearts and hands open. These are the gifts we have received from you, and would offer to them. Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

The Prophet of Advent First Wednesday of Advent - B

"O house of Jacob,
come, let us walk
in the light of the LORD!"
(Isa. 2:5)

you reached into
the dusk of chaos
and brought out the sun
to warm me on a winter's day;
the moon to illuminate my path
on an evening's walk;
the stars to be my companions
during a sleepless night.

you stretched out your arms
toward the twilight of death,
rolling away the stone
covering it's heart,
so that i could be set free.

you found me huddled
in the murky corner of my despair,
and,
taking me by the hand,
pulled me to my feet,
and we went off skipping
into your kingdom.

i will walk in your light,
my Lord,
i will walk.
Amen.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

Do you want me to read to you?

More years ago than either one of us would want to admit, my mother gave me the gift that, as the phrase goes, keeps on giving.

The gift of words.

She started out by reading to me as I snuggled up in her lap, or lay in bed, safe under the covers, and warmed by the love in her eyes, smile and voice. Then, she began to help me sound out the words for myself, and to discover that these 'things' created from 26 letters could be gateways to the world, challenges to the mind, solace for the lonely, comfort for the grieving.

I cannot think of a moment in my life when I did not have (at least) one book within easy reach. Even in college and seminary, when I should have been focusing on textbooks, I was delving into mysteries, thrillers, novels, biographies.

But my mother also took the time to make sure I was introduced to the Word. And as most folks attest, it was a transforming moment, which continues to shape my life, guide my walk, give me hope, and challenge my unwillingness to let go of my all-too-human desires.

And now, as I share words with people through my writings and preaching; as I seek to introduce others to the Word of hope, of joy, of peace; asI try to challenge the unwillingness of others to let go, I am even more grateful for that gift my mother gave me so long ago when she asked,

"Do you want me to read to you?"

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

Only a dream?

We were talking about prayer yesterday during the education hour, about forms of prayer, 'tools' for prayer, etc.

I mentioned my 'dream' that somehow, in some fashion, the church could offer a prayer room for folks. It doesn't need to be big and it doesn't need to be fancy (after all - a chair, a table with a Bible and a candle would be all the 'furnishings' most of us would need). But it would need to be solely devoted to the purpose of prayer.

Not a room where debates are held, decisions made, and people's toes might be stepped on. No, a room where hurts are offered for healing, where discernment is sought, where relationships are made whole.

Not a room that which would need to be rearranged (reluctantly) so a few people can pray, but then has to be put back into place right away so a meeting can be held. But a room that might sit empty for days on end, but is available and open when it is most needed.

Not a room where cast-off chairs sit, but a room where the outcast can climb up into God's lap and be loved, welcomed, affirmed.

Not a room where boxes filled with dusty records are stored, but a storehouse of prayer, of silence, of wonder, of awe.

Not a room where that old, out-of-tune piano Aunt Sadie gave to the church years ago can be found, but the hill in Bethlehem where the angels first sang; the sheepfold where the Good Shepherd protects his lambs; the living room where our Parent sits looking out the window, longing to spy all of us prodigals trudging wearily home.

Wouldn't it be nice if every church had such a room?

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

One of the reason I put off going to seminary (other than the deep conviction that the phone lines had been crossed when I got the 'call') was my inability with languages other than English, which presented problems of its own.

When I finally did give in to the God-who-is-like-a-tenacious-bulldog and went to seminary, you can imagine my surprise that I not only made it through Greek, but absolutely loved studying Hebrew! In fact, my study of Hebrew gave me a new appreciation for the wonder, the grace, the steadfast love of the God the Chosen revealed to us in the Old Testament. It removed any lingering questions about there being two different gods in the two different testaments.

Take the concept of 'commandment.' I grew up, probably like most folks, believing that the commandments given in the OT, especially the Top Ten, were "orders" given to us by that stern and punishing God who shook the mountains. If I took a candy bar off the shelf, God would turn up the flames in hell a little bit. If I gossiped about a friend, the dial was turned to medium. And if I wanted to sleep in on Sunday instead of going to church - well, I was toast!

Then I learned the Hebrew word 'mitzvah' (which we translate into English as 'commandment'). What a difference! Instead of an order, I discovered a honor and privilege given to us by God who has given us life. Rather than a rule, I found a responsibility that is mine as part of the covenant God has made with me. A burden that was almost impossible to carry became a good deed that I am longing to perform over and over. Grace replaced guilt, love overcame law, faith trumped fear.

No wonder the psalmist could talk about these words being a delight. God gave them to us, not so we would become lawyers, but so we would become lovers.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman