Reflections on Ezekiel 47

As part of our chapel series at Campus Edge on Hope for all creation, I gave the following short reflection on Ezekiel 47:1-12.

While I have grown to love the book of Ezekiel, I often find it strange. And this passage, despite the beautiful image of life-giving water that it presents, is no exception. It is filled with odd repetitions and details. Why does it matter to us, the readers, which directions the water is coming from? Why are we given measurements?

Going back a few chapters in Ezekiel, there are more measurements. Measurements of doors and walls and rooms and instructions for priests. These chapters look like building instructions for a temple, and many people over the centuries have interpreted it that way. If we build the temple, then Christ will return – and the vision presented here of the water that gives life – will finally come true. It’s one interpretation of Ezekiel 43, which says that these words are written so that people might be ashamed and turn to God, and then they must follow these instructions. And God will dwell among them. And who of us doesn’t want God to dwell among us?

I find something deeply appealing in the idea that maybe – if we just follow this formula or these instructions – then everything will be the way it should be. The water of life, as depicted in this passage, will overflow: "the fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing.”

Except experience and history have taught us that God cannot be contained or controlled. I – we - cannot do enough to make and ensure God will come to dwell among us. Any effort we might make to build the temple pictured here actually can't work: the text doesn’t give building materials, the dimensions are too large to fit on the temple mound, and probably most noticeable, it’s lacking a roof. The temple isn’t meant to be built. It isn't meant to be one more thing to do; instead it’s a vision of what already is. It’s a vision that is calling us to turn to God, to turn away from our own efforts to control God – or even try to control and run the world around us. The temple is a vision of God’s presence and another reiteration of God’s repeated refrain throughout Ezekiel – I will be your God and you will be my people. I will dwell among you.

God will dwell among us because that’s what God does. God dwells among us. Genesis 1 tells the story of creation but many scholars recognize that the language is more than just a description of the world coming into being. It is a description of a world that has been formed as a temple: God’s temple where God dwells. Since creation, God has dwelt among us, inviting us to see God through the beauty and power and wonder that creation instills in us.

Throughout the Old Testament, God’s presence was shown to the Israelites through the temple in their midst, but God’s presence was hardly contained to the temple. And this vision of a new temple here in Ezekiel makes that even more clear: no roof, after all, could hold God’s presence when God’s presence is throughout all of creation.

Because God’s presence is not always obvious, despite the beauty of creation, God came among us in the form of Jesus, and today God is present with us in the Holy Spirit. And we can take great comfort that it is not on the basis of our own efforts that God dwells among us, but simply because that is who God is. It is part of how God formed creation. And since then we have been given many gracious reminders of God's presence: a vision of life to its fullness, full of the water of life.


Text cross-posted on the blog from my work

Leaning into 'delighting'

One of the greatest gifts of Sabbath for me is delight. I feel like in Sabbath I'm given space and time to delight - as well as hope and joy so that my soul leans towards delighting instead of annoyance. As I practice delighting on Sabbath, I'm hoping that this will help me learn to 'delight' (or at least appreciate) the normal parts of my life in ordinary (i.e., non-Sabbath) time. I feel like so much of my life is focused on the 'I have to do this and get this done' instead of the wonder of getting to do this and being a part of that.' Even in my work of being a pastor I lean more often towards 'have to' than 'get to,' despite the fact that my work includes the honour of walking alongside people in their faith journeys (what could be more delightful and wonder-filled than that?).

In order to practice delight and Sabbath on a more daily basis, I've been trying to start my work day a bit differently. The beginning is usually getting ready, breakfast, and nudging Lydia so we can drop her off at day care. I'm trying to do that more patiently, recognizing that I do have time to dawdle with her (and this morning she helped me fold laundry, which is definitely worth her arriving later at daycare). Yet, after all the moving pieces involved in getting the little to day care and being faced with needing to figure out what most needs doing for the day, I often feel overwhelmed. Instead of trying to tell myself to get over my feelings (which, even on good days, is only moderately successful), I'm trying to give them space and allow myself to start the day more gently. And so I've been spending 30-45 minutes each day listening to a Bible text or a podcast while often playing simple computer games. It's a combination of allowing myself to do something 'fun' while also receiving words of hope and encouragement that can then give me strength as I go about the rest of the day. After experimenting with this for the last week or two, I have felt that I am more able to approach the rest of the day with delight in the work that I get to do instead of seeing it primarily as things that need to be checked off a list.

The gift of Sabbath

I'm deeply thankful for Sabbath. I see it is a gift, especially of perspective. It challenges our understanding of time, seeing "time not as an enemy to subdue, but as a friend to savor.” (Mary Ann McKibben Dana, Sabbath in the Suburbs). Furthermore, it challenges how we think about ourselves. We are not as important or as invincible as we sometimes think: the world will continue quite fine without our efforts. As much as God can use us to do good, God is certainly able to do good without us. It also challenges whatever guilt we might have picked up in terms of how undeserving we might be of rest:

“Even if you don’t observe Sabbath, a shift in perception is helpful. It doesn’t ever all get done. We need to train our vision. We see failure when we should see alternatives. Better to focus on the good and important things we did do instead of berating ourselves for falling short of an ideal.” McKibben Dana, Sabbath in the Suburbs, 105.

I originally received the gift of Sabbath from my parents and then grew to love it even more as I moved out of the house and continued to be refreshed by a weekly day of Sabbath. While I was Seminary - and even my first years in Amsterdam - it remained a gift but got more complicated, as Sabbath could often be lonely when most everyone I knew was busy with other things. And now, Sabbath has become complicated in a different way - as sometimes I need to work on Sunday and taking care of a little is not always restful (although it does often involve delight when I give myself over simply to being with her - and can share the responsibility with Matthijs). Yet, the gift of Sabbath has not changed, nor has my appreciation for it.

I continue to delight in the gift of Sabbath, yet it also requires discernment to know how best to receive this gift in different places and at different phases in my life. I am currently learning the good in practicing practice Sabbath not only on Sunday, but also in small doses throughout the week. So I've been trying to take time to journal or read a good book or by commuting regularly by bike and using that time to think and pray. Even re-instituting a date night with Matthijs is part of trying to practice Sabbath, as I want to be more intentional in delighting in spending time with him. So is learning to wait patiently for the little, so that I might better delight in her presence in our life.

Some helpful quotes and books to keep pondering Sabbath:

• “What happens when we stop working and controlling nature? When we don’t operate machines or pick flowers? . . . When we cease interfering in the world we are acknowledging that it is God’s world.” Lauren F. Winner, Mudhouse Sabbath, 6-7.
• “Sabbath puts the focus on God and God’s gracious invitation to rest from one’s work.” Mary Ann McKibben Dana, Sabbath in the Suburbs, 22.
• A quote from Sabbath in the Suburbs (89): “It’s not so much how busy you are, but why you are busy. The bee is praised. The mosquito is swatted.” Mary O’Connor.
• A helpful book to read: Dorothy C. Bass, Receiving the Day: Christian Practices for Opening the Gift of Time (2001)

A variation of this is crossposted at the Campus Edge blog (where I blog for work).

Patience and Presence

As I expect is true of most toddlers, our little seems to be inherently good at dawdling. It often feels like one either has to wait a significant amount of time or push and prod before she'll get things done. I find my 'pushing and prodding' self not always the most pleasant person to be around, so I lean towards waiting patiently. After all, it's not like a two-year-old really has that much that she needs to be on time for, so why can't we do things slowly? The challenge, though, is that I find it hard to wait patiently. I find it easy to waste time on my own but find it hard to be patient when it feels like someone else - even if she's being cute about it - is wasting my time.

MaryAnn McKibben Dana in her book, Sabbath in the Suburbs, has challenged me to continue to practice waiting. While there may be days and reasons for me to hurry the little one along, there is something good in saying yes to going at the little's tempo. It helps me see time differently: less as something to be conquered and more as something to be savored. McKibben Dana specifically talks about her own experience of saying yes to her children as part of practicing Sabbath:

"The experience is simultaneously tiring and gratifying. . . But the kids’ joy at being heard and responded to is contagious, and rather than take advantage of our agreeableness, they are more agreeable in return. Once a week we can ‘yes-and’ our children. Rather than be confused by this seeming lack of consistency, they get that Sabbath is a different kind of day with different rules and rhythms. Saying yes on Sabbath means that they accept our no’s on other days more easily. Sabbath also becomes a laboratory for the rest of the week, as we realize that we could probably say yes more than we do.” McKibben-Dana, Sabbath in the Suburbs, 95.

Most of all, I want to learn to wait patiently for the little as a practice of being present with her. Perhaps sometimes this means waiting with a book in hand or writing in my journal, or even tidying up, as a way of taking into account my own inherent desire to be productive, while still being present with her. Other times, it will involve paying more attention to her, delighting in who she is and being more fully available to her. Perhaps ordinary time will involve more of the former and Sabbath will hopefully be more of the latter, but, most of all, I want to practice "showing up and making myself available. . . I seek to be present with my kids, not because every moment will feel holy and blessed but because holy and blessed moments don’t happen unless I am present.” McKibben-Dane, Sabbath in the Suburbs, 39.

God's timing

Sometimes people discover Campus Edge near the beginning of their program. They’re looking for a community and so they search for and find us online, or they visit our supporting church, or they meet us at the graduate fair. Sometimes they connect with people in their program who’ve been participating in Campus Edge for awhile.

Other times, though, people have found Campus Edge later in their program. I lament a little that these individuals didn’t connect with us sooner – we could have been blessed by their insights and presence, and we might have been able to encourage them through providing a supportive community and a place to ask difficult questions.

Yet, I also believe that God is at work in the timing, and people will come to Campus Edge at the right time. While one might expect that the beginning of one’s program would be the best time, we’ve seen that sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s because life is too full or overwhelming for there to be space for one more thing. For others it’s because their faith journey is going really well – they’ve connected to a church/Christian community and are receiving answers for their faith questions. Still for others, it is even possible that they wouldn’t have found someone at Campus Edge who they would feel a strong connection.

Yet, later a time might come, whether that be a crisis or a gentle nudge, when connecting with and participating in Campus Edge would then be good. Perhaps a person has experienced a deep sense of loneliness or isolation, or church doesn’t seem to fit quite like it used to, or there is a longing to be with people who understand the unique experience that is grad school. And then, whenever people ready – no matter how early or late they are in their program, I hope that they do find Campus Edge and we can be an encouragement and place of hope and grace.

originally published at the Campus Edge blog

Justice, Forgiveness, Restoration, and Truth-telling

 

This past year, we’ve spent some time talking about justice and forgiveness. The Bible shows that God loves justice (Isaiah 61:8; 16:7-8) and that Christians ought to forgive (Colossians 3:13). Yet, how forgiveness and justice relate to each other is not always obvious, as too often people (including and especially Christians) understand justice as an unnecessary part of forgiveness.

However, Rachael DenHollander, wisely argues that forgiveness that ignores justice denies who God is (and denies a bit of our worth as human beings, especially as people against whom injustice has happened). In an interview with Christianity Today, DenHollander, notes:

“I worked to get to a place where I could trust in God’s justice and call evil what it was, because God is good and holy. One of the areas where Christians don’t do well is in acknowledging the devastation of the wound. We can tend to gloss over the devastation of any kind of suffering but especially sexual assault, with Christian platitudes like God works all things together for good or God is sovereign. Those are very good and glorious biblical truths, but when they are misapplied in a way to dampen the horror of evil, they ultimately dampen the goodness of God. Goodness and darkness exist as opposites. If we pretend that the darkness isn’t dark, it dampens the beauty of the light.”

I agree with DenHollander that acknowledging injustice is an important part of recognizing who God is and how things ought to be. It is only in recognizing that God loves justice that we can truly forgive. When DenHollander speaks of forgiving Larry Nassar, she says:

“It means that I trust in God’s justice and I release bitterness and anger and a desire for personal vengeance. It does not mean that I minimize or mitigate or excuse what he has done. It does not mean that I pursue justice on earth any less zealously. It simply means that I release personal vengeance against him, and I trust God’s justice, whether he chooses to mete that out purely eternally, or both in heaven and on earth.”

Perhaps another way of looking at justice and forgiveness is through the lens of restoration and/or truth-telling. Both justice and forgiveness are about restoring the wrongs that have been done, especially in terms of restoring relationships between humans and in relationship to God. Truth-telling is about acknowledging that it was truly evil; forgiveness can’t exist outside of that acknowledgement. Nor can any restoration of relationship happen without acknowledging that something truly horribly happened (that deserves punishment.) Or as DenHollander puts it,

“It defies the gospel of Christ when we do not call out abuse and enable abuse in our own church. Jesus Christ does not need your protection; he needs your obedience. Obedience means that you pursue justice and you stand up for the oppressed and you stand up for the victimized, and you tell the truth about the evil of sexual assault and the evil of covering it up.Obedience costs. It means that you will have to speak out against your own community. It will cost to stand up for the oppressed, and it should. If we’re not speaking out when it costs, then it doesn’t matter to us enough.”

To hear more about Rachael DenHollander’s understanding of justice and forgiveness, you can watch her presentation at Calvin College’s January Series in January 2019. You can start at minute 6 if you’d like to skip the part of how she met her husband.

originally posted at Campus Edge blog

Loneliness, Meaning, and Hope

The Los Angeles times recently published an article by Varun Soni, who is dean of religious life at USC, highlights some of the changes that he’s seen among students during the eleven years he’s been in that role. In the beginning, the conversations he had with students centered on “quests for meaning and purpose. [Students] were striving to translate values into action, cultivate joy and gratitude, live extraordinary lives.”

However, more recently the conversation has shifted more often from “how should I live?” to “why should I live?” As Soni, notes that students today are more likely to “grapple with hopelessness and meaninglessness. Every year, it seems, I encounter more stress, anxiety, and depression, and more students in crisis on campus.” He goes on to present the research that has also noticed this shift on campus.

Soni notes that students are often overwhelmed and lonely, and they find it difficult to know how to make friends, a trend that Jean M. Twenge, who has done a significant amount of research on the generation entering college, has also noticed.

Soni further notes that, while we sometimes consider this generation to be coddled,

the reality is they face unprecedented challenges and circumstances. They are entering a world in which many of the career paths of their parents’ generation no longer exist or have changed drastically. They face escalating tuition costs with little sense of whether their future opportunities justify the outlay. They have participated in active shooter trainings and campus lockdown drills for most of their lives.”

In this challenging context, Campus Edge and other religious communities strive to provide community and support for people who are struggling, as well as speaking hope into people’s lives. Please pray that we might do that well, as well as praying for all those who are struggling.

originally published at the Campus Edge blog