A New Hope

I’ve heard it said, “What you do on the first day of the year will become your yearly practice.” Now, I don’t know if that’s entirely accurate (or even moderately so) but I do like the premise. Entering a new year can bring hope, if one is so inclined to seek it. However, another circle around the sun has the potential to be just that: another ol’ year. The attitude with which we lean into the turning of the calendar is what matters; perhaps this is what that sage advice up top meant…

Stepping from one day to another is fluid, often part of a schedule that seems to bleed one moment into the next. One day turns into a week, a week into a month, and then before we know it, we’re back on the first day of the year. But what has changed? Did we take the time to slow down and evaluate ourselves and our actions on a daily basis? On a weekly one? Did we take a moment to affect minor changes or did the race begin and we just started running?

I’ll be honest, a new year doesn’t mean much to me in terms of the mystical ‘it’s a blank slate’ mentality. It can be boiled down to remembering which year to fill in on web forms and doctor’s office visits. Yet, this is the very issue I am attempting to address. It should be more, at least in my opinion. A new year presents opportunity for change to occur with intentionality. Just like most habits tend to do better when one begins on a Monday rather than a Thursday (that’s actually true), most change on a macro level would seem fitting for January first, rather than July third.

What attitudes do you hope to embrace this year? Do you hold hopes of spiritual growth? Of discipleship? What changes are coming? A new child, a new job, retirement? How will you face them and with what attitude will you conduct yourself? I ask myself these questions and find that I don’t know—at least, I don’t know what will occur. I do know this, however: Whatever comes, it is not in my power to keep those moments from occurring. The control I have manifests itself in the form of how I respond.

If we can adopt a sense of hopefulness, if we can embrace our faith and nurture our spiritual lives, if we can be steeped in the word…then we will be able to approach this new chapter with our heads, hearts, and souls in check. The blending of days will still happen, but a sense of purpose and overall health will bloom within us. Then, and only then, will we be able to shift our perceptions from ones of negativity and jaded views, to ones of vitality in times of joy and faithful endurance in times of pain.

We can begin these changes on the first day of the week, month or year. But we must begin, so that in the Last day, we are prepared to meet God in faith, hope and love for that eternal chapter that never ends.  

Happy New Year

Fr. Sean+

The Great Unknowing

December 19th, 2023

Scripture

32‘From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 33 So also, when you see all these things, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 34 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 35 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

36 ‘But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 37 For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 38 For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, 39 and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. 40 Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. 41 Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. 42 Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 43 But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. 44 Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.

--Matthew 24:32-44

Reflection

There’s so much we don’t know about God. Yet, given enough time in church settings, Christians develop a sense of God ownership. What begins as curious exploration into the relationship between the person and God, seems to phase into an absolute truth regarding God.  Lines are drawn. Doctrines are created. Denominations rise. Divisions multiply. The body of Christ slowly dismembers itself, detaching and moving further away from each of its parts in the name of wholesome wholeness. It is out of our desire to be right, that the actual knowledge we hold—the axiom of ‘God is love’—is lost in a maelstrom of we-versus-them theology.

Recently, a woman told me about her experience in prison. More specifically, the times in which baptisms were offered to the populace. Due to time constraints and security, many of these baptisms occurred in large numbers; multiple ministers from varying denominations would take turns baptizing inmates who identified with their denominational structures. As each minister went to the podium, and then to the baptismal font, she remembered feeling a sense of confusion and hurt. Small statements were made by each minister, subtly dismissing their previous counterpart’s theology through thinly veiled statements or corrections. In all of this, she felt lost. When she was released from prison, she didn’t want to attend church. She said, “Why would I go to a place that was so worried about what the other people were doing that they might forget about me?”

I didn’t know what to say…

Our constant pledge to spread the good news of Christ by word and example can be sullied by our inability to articulate what and who we are in Christ. Rather, we utilize the practice of proclaiming what and who we aren’t, all too often. It is in this mode that none of us can be ready to receive the arrival of Christ, being too preoccupied with our constrained perceptions of him. If we would let our sense of knowing be scaled back, just a bit, perhaps an anticipatory and curious unknowing could reassert itself, allowing us the grace to be accepted when Christ comes. Perhaps the body of Christ can be drawn back toward itself with a small amount of humility in that same unknowing.

Being ready doesn’t mean being right; it means remaining open to the myriad mysteries that have been revealed to us by the resurrected Christ and open to the possibilities of those which have yet to be revealed by his coming again. My hope during this and every Advent, is to embrace the knowledge and love of God that I feel, while also waiting in joyful anticipation for the Christ who comes again to reveal the remaining truth that passes all understanding.

The Rev. Sean A. Ekberg, Rector

Episcopal Church of the Resurrection, OKC

Giving of Thanks

Next week, we’ll gather together for Thanksgiving. In our homes or at the church, we will share a meal together in remembrance of people coming together to share ideals and ways in which to flourish amid diversity. The pluralistic nature of our first encounters in this world, as well as the ‘new world’ back then, continue to inform us concerning the differences we possess while attempting to live together in community.

As a microcosm of the wider world, the church exhibits similar attributes of the wider pluralistic society. Yet, our differences can be more easily lived through due to our shared belief in the Holy Trinity. Jesus Christ is the foundation upon which our community is built, thus creating a shared sense of belonging not readily found in the wider world. In short: We are special, set apart, and encouraged to spread good news and THE Good News to the rest of the world.

This world doesn’t receive good news readily, nor does it allow for a pervasive exchange of thanks, given the daily chaos surrounding us. Yet, that’s where we can be of service. As we experience Thanksgiving next week, I hope we will be reminded that every day is given to us in thanksgiving to God. Our thanks should be directed in eternal gratitude toward Christ for his ultimate sacrifice. The meal we share together next week mimics that which we take part in every Sunday. We will gather together. We will say prayers. We will fellowship with each other. We will share news of our lives and love with those to whom we are kin. The difference between that meal and the one shared each Sunday is simple: One occurs once a year and is in temporal thanks, the other is every week and in remembrance of passionate sacrifice and eternal love.

Be thankful, my friends. Be thankful for your loved ones, passed, past, and present. Be thankful for your church community, and for those who have yet to join us. And ultimately, be reminded that we live in a perpetual moment of thanksgiving which began at the table of the Last Supper, witnessed the loving sacrifice on the cross, and culminated in the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. I give thanks to God for that, for you, and for this place we now call home. Thanks be to you, and thanks be to God.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

How Do We Compete?

This past Sunday, someone asked a question that I imagine resides rent-free in most of our heads. “How can we compete with the mega-churches; how can we convince people to come here?”

When I was first approached by Resurrection in 2017, it was via phone-call. Four people from the church search committee were on one end of the speaker, and Nic and I were on the other. The greeting was warm and the questions weren’t difficult at first, but then someone posed the question above: “What will you do to compete with the bigger churches and how can we get our kids to want to come here rather than there?” After a brief pause, I answered with one word: “Nothing.” I then went on to explain that competing with churches isn’t the business we’re in—sure, we need people to sustain the annual budget of ___(what is now $340,000, I have no clue what it was then) but that seeking other church members wasn’t the answer. We can’t compete with other churches because everyone has different desires for worship; if this wasn’t the case, there would never have been a reformation of the Church and we’d all still be Catholic.

I honestly thought they hung up on me. That’s how long the pause was. But then they moved on to the next question. To this day, I would pay money to see their faces in that moment; I imagine someone mouthed something along the lines of “Is this dude crazy?”

Well, a few years later, we all know that I’m a little wacky. Yet, on Sunday, I restated that answer. I know how much we want to grow—no one feels that desire more deeply than I do. I yearn for people to join this church in droves; I long for the resurrection of Resurrection. In many ways, that has started to happen. We have done quite a bit together and the results have been noticeable. But there’s still more to do. We’re in a pivotal moment of our church today, just as we were back then. The difference? We’ve stepped up a few levels.

Our needs today aren’t the same as they were yesterday. We have a critical mass of folks willing to engage in ministries, doing the work of discipleship, and creating a sense of vitality that is almost palpable. And we are still not competing. Instead, we’re thriving due to providing a safe space within which people can grow in faith and understanding; inquisitive theology is bred here, allowing folks to ask questions without fear of reprisal or judgment.

So. What now?

Now, we keep moving forward and continue to do the things that are unique and authentic to us. We keep conducting ourselves as the beloved community; we keep encouraging our kids during worship and on Wednesday nights. We keep feeding the hungry, clothing the cold, friending the lonely, tending to the sick, and shielding the joyous. And, we talk about this place to people we encounter. That’s the real secret to growth: It takes you, all of you, talking to your friends—and strangers sometimes (Sorry introverts)—about this community to which you belong. Of all the catchy and gimmicky things we could attempt, authentic encounters with our neighbors are the most vital to the ever-expanding group of souls here at Resurrection. And if you’re reading this and belong to another church? It’s how you do it there, too. Our job as Christians isn’t to promote individual churches for the sake of their growth; it’s to promote Jesus Christ for the sake of the Kingdom.

Do you want to grow?

Do you want to see this place thrive?

Do you want to share the beauty of the Episcopal liturgy?

Do you want to share the Christian faith?

Then let’s keep conversing with people, inviting people, and connecting during real moments. That’s now how we compete, it’s how we thrive. And, more importantly, it’s the work Jesus Christ calls us to do, anyway.

Let’s go, Resurrection. Our work is far from done.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

Blessed are Those....

On this All Saints’ Day, the Beatitudes from Matthew hit differently. We are told of the many ‘blessed’ people with their differing gifts, and that telling is to direct us toward honoring those persons. In some cases, that direction is to help us to become people of such blessing. So what does it mean to be ‘blessed’? If I get a new job that pays more, am I blessed? If that’s the case, then does that mean my neighbor that just lost her job is not blessed? Why does God bless me and not her?

I think you can see the issue here.

The term ‘blessed’ has been twisted to mean something different these days. In my not-so-humble (yeah, I know, blessed are the meek) opinion, we overuse and underemphasize the term. It doesn’t hold the weight that Christ intended, the weight of glory that Lewis talks about; the weight of being faithful in the midst of some of the worst conditions known to humankind.

Blessed are the Peacemakers? Tell that to a hungry and terrified child in Gaza right now. See how that goes. Blessed are those who mourn? Again, children are losing parents and friends every day. Do they feel blessed? I highly doubt they feel blessed in the same vein that the western world wastes that word.

Being blessed isn’t something that occurs because of a perceived ‘good’ happening. I’m not ‘blessed’ to be able to worship freely—I’m a product of my birth, born in a country where it’s allowed. I’m not ‘blessed’ to be unafraid to leave my home; I’m lucky to live in the part of the world where war isn’t on my doorstep. I’m not ‘blessed’ to be a middle-class heterosexual man; that’s just who I am and a product of hard-work mixed with a little luck along the way.

Blessing is something that occurs by virtue of Jesus Christ. We’re blessed to be saved by grace. We’re blessed to be the inheritors of that same grace which we are tasked to pass to others. We’re blessed to have the promise of eternal life. Also, we’re blessed when we’re at our lowest and still have faith to sustain us. So many people have taken their own lives due to despondency, to a total loss of hope and faith—or even losing a battle of the broken mind. I’m not blessed to be mentally balanced (a state of being which I constantly question). I’m blessed when I recognize God even through the madness of this world, and I continue to seek that blessing.

I seek the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit to sustain me in the lowest of moments and in the heights of despair. I look to the cross as a reminder that someone suffered so that I could live, no matter what the circumstance. I’ve lived in a car for a short time; I’ve slept on friends’ couches; I’ve gone hungry, I’ve worn the same clothing for days on end. Conversely, I drive a nice truck, live in a nice home, have a beautiful spouse, and live a comfortable life. Yet, none of those are blessings. The true blessing comes in gratitude for the life given to me by Christ—the new life in hope of the Resurrection of that same Jesus.

On this All Saints’ Day, I will remember those that came before me. I’ll remember the named saints and the ones who were saints to me. I’ll remember my dad, an imperfect and broken man who loved me and my mother to the best of his ability. I’ll remember Grant Hileman, one of the brightest lights in my life that was extinguished because he couldn’t take the pain anymore. I’ll remember his smile, and look at his photo, knowing that part of him lives on in me. I’ll remember the work that generations of clergy and lay people did before I ever got here and try my best to add to it, leaving this world better than I found it.

And then I’ll be blessed. I’ll be blessed because I’ll look to the examples of the meek, the poor, the suffering, the afflicted, the joyous, and those who fight real and imagined demons every single day. And I will shine in that blessing, because I’m still here to do so. Then one day, I will be a saint, and join that great cloud of witnesses of Jesus Christ.

I hope you will, too, with gratitude and to the glory of God.

Be blessed,

Fr. Sean+

Courage

It is difficult to be courageous amid the chaos of this world. People on one side will scream at you for believing one thing, while people on the other will cancel you for another. No matter what we do, it seems like there is no ‘right’ answer, no ‘correct’ way in which to simply be. I’ll admit, I’m terrified every day that something I’ve done in my past will come back to haunt me in some way that I never expected. Of course, then the answer from others is, “Well, what do you have to hide?”

Really? Have you never sinned?

My point is this: None of us have a clean slate, no not one. The newest pandemic of self-righteousness is squeezing the life out of us, bit by bit. Courage has taken a side-seat to self-preservation, in avoidance of anyone who might try to tear us down for something we believe. We’re being hunted…and the worst part about it is this:

We’re also the hunters.

How can we be better? I am tired, y’all. I am tired of the bickering, the nastiness, and the cyclical conversations. Part of the human condition is that we will inadvertently disagree quite often; but not everything needs to be a knife fight. If we say that we love Jesus Christ on Sunday morning and then crucify our neighbor on Friday afternoon, then how exactly are we living into the Word? How are we leaning into the way, the truth, and the life of Jesus Christ? That’s not courage, it’s the opposite. It’s cowardice. It is fear of the ‘other’, fear of being rejected, and fear of being changed by someone else’s point of view. So, how can we turn fear into courage?

It might be a tired question, but it’s one that I think we have to keep answering until we can come up with a solution. I never want to feel like I can’t speak my mind, yet I find myself weighing whether or not the follow-up is worth speaking my personal truth. What if, instead, I was able to say things without the rest of the world going crazy? What if you could do the same? What if, and I know this is mental, we could allow people their own agency to think freely, regardless of the differences between us? What if we had courage in a different way: Courage to be firm in our belief while still living in holy tension with those around us?

What a world that would be. A world like that would allow each of us to hold differing views and still be a connected people. All it would take is a little bit of courage to be firm in our individual beliefs without having to belittle someone else for theirs. Hunting season would close, and life would be abundant. That’s a world I would love to live in, and something for which I yearn. I will continue to dream of that place, and at least attempt to make small changes every day to ensure I’m doing my part. It will take courage, but in the end, everything worth doing always does. Take heart and have courage, beloved. We all want to love and be loved, our ways of doing so are different, sometimes. Put down the knives. Pick up the mantle. And go forth into the world, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit, knowing that that same Spirit created each face we meet along the way.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

How do I pray? Why?

How we pray often defines our belief. The phrase Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi (law of prayer is law of belief) plays a pivotal role in our Anglican theology. We pray with all our senses. We pray throughout all times of the day. We pray in different seasons of the year. See a common thread? If we’re doing all that is offered to us through the Book of Common Prayer, if our clergy are helping us understand the importance of prayer, and if we stop to take time for prayer? Well, life becomes more manageable.

So why does it matter how we pray? I mean, we can just pray once a day, right? Surely God is powerful enough to give us whatever we want in return for a few minutes of prayer each day. Why in the world would we need to communicate with God more than that…God’s a busy God.

In short: No, not right.

Imagine this: You are deeply in love with someone. This person holds your heart in inexplicable ways, they have become so integral to who you are that losing them would break you in many ways. Did that love grow from one conversation a week? Did you fall in love with your person because you spent a few minutes a day talking to them? In your memories, are they a fraction of what constitutes your life’s meaning? I can tell you right now that I continue to fall deeply in love with Nicole on the daily. You know why? Because we talk. We talk about inane things, serious things, and everything in between.

And when we aren’t together, sometimes we just call and leave the line quiet as each of us does our own thing.

This allows us to grow together, not apart; to face daily life and know that we have each other. So, what if you’re single? Widowed? I imagine you have friends or family with whom you share a special relationship.  Not the same, yet not diminished.  Not greater than or less than, just different. The relationship is still vital to who you are and serves as a major part of your life.

Now, apply that to God. Do you talk to God, daily? Do you share your frustrations, fears, joys, dreams, and inane goings-on with God? Do you sometimes just sit in companionable silence, not asking for anything, with God? Do you make time to grow into deeper relationship, or is the five minutes enough?

Once I asked myself these questions, the answer was clear: I need—I desire—to be in deeper conversation with God. I want to wake with my first words being directed toward God and I want to fall asleep with my last words being in praise and love of God’s name. How can I do that? The answer: By being faithful in my prayer life; not just when things are bad or good, but in the ‘normal’ times, too. Don’t you agree? Isn’t God the reason why we’re here, the gathering force of grace that compels us to community and action?

That’s how we can approach it. We can stand in awe or whisper through tears on our knees; we can see the beauty of nature around us; we can hear the laughter of children in our midst; we can taste the communion…

And through those moments of prayer, we can reach out and touch the face of God.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

Patience is a Virtue?

There’s a song by Guns N’ Roses entitled “Patience”. In it, modern theologian Axl Rose (not a theologian, yes that’s how he spells his name) ends the song with repeating the words, “Patience, yeah, yeah…just a little patience.” It was one of the first songs I learned to play and sing, so, knowing the tune and the lyrics as I do, the words have been on repeat in my mind, lately.

They say patience is a virtue, but sometimes I wonder how virtuous I am. I tend toward quick decisions (here’s looking at you ‘J’ on the Meyer’s Briggs) and I lean toward having a good idea of what I expect from the work I have done throughout my life. Yet, my expectations aren’t reality—they are sometimes on another plane of existence—and I recognize my inability to practice ‘just a little patience’ in those moments. I have worked on this throughout the years and I find myself getting more patient with some things as I age; yet, with others? I have developed an eroding fuse.

I wonder at this. What’s so difficult about patience? Why does it elude me? Then, I recognize that I am not alone; the other citizens of this planet also struggle with varying degrees of situational, and even long-term, patience. We lack patience in our conversations, only half-listening while bursting at the seams to have our turn to talk. We lose patience with our loved ones, though I believe this instance to reflect the adage, “we’re hardest on those we love” (that doesn’t make it okay.) We show little patience with the incarcerated, the impoverished, the theologically different, and many more groups of people. We have little patience, it seems, concerning anything to do with what ‘we’ want or expect. Yet, when someone else has an issue? We become some kind of pseudo-sage that starts humming ‘ohhhhm’, telling the person across from us to have patience, that everything will work out in God’s time.

Dude, really? That’s where we’re going with this? When we become impatient, others around us, the world and God are to blame. When others practice that very same impatience, they should just calm down and allow the moment to unfold? Um, this is pot, calling for kettle, party of everyone.

The truth, at least as I see it, is that patience isn’t a virtue at all. It’s a trait that some people hold more sway over than others. Much like being a singer, I think people are born with a bit more aptitude toward being calm, and they also work on that to foster a greater sense of patience from it. Likewise, people born without a modicum of ‘chill’ would also do well to work on it, do breathing exercises or something. I don’t know, I tend to fall in the latter group.

What I do know is this: Without faith, and without actively praying about situations within which I feel untethered, patience is impossible for me. Adding to that, I also seek out opinions of others around me regarding rough situations and actually attempt to listen to them, rather than thinking of ways to defend my words or actions. Am I always successful? Big nope. But at least I try. As for others around me, I find that it’s easier and easier to be patient with them when I’m doing better in my prayer life versus not. Christ compels all of us to be kind, not nice, and yes there is a difference. Being nice is nodding, smiling, and beating feet to get away from the situation as fast as possible. Being kind is to be present to someone who is showing a lack of patience, it might be all they need in that moment—perhaps they don’t need to be ‘fixed’, just heard. Let people finish their words, allow people the agency to vent, and most of the horde will come to an end-point on their own. Perhaps we should have the patience for them. That way, when it's our time to shine with impatience, they can return that grace and allow us the same safe space.

Just listen. Be present. And be grateful that, during our times of impatience, that person chose to do the same. We don’t need to fix people’s problems, not all the time. We don’t need to think of wise words whilst others are speaking, especially when said advice wasn’t solicited. We don’t need to offer an opinion on every situation, or question everything all the time—especially when the person on the other end of the line is clearly struggling. Sometimes, all we need is a little patience.

Just a little patience, yeah?

Yeah.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

Sticks and Stones

A lack of communication occurred this past Sunday. My opening statement of “I hate New Orleans” was received by many as “I hate Mormons”. While somewhat amusing, this is not what I said—I can only imagine people unable to pay attention to the following lines of the sermon due to wondering why I hated Mormons. This leads me to believe that many may have missed why I said, “I hate New Orleans”. I don’t, really. I was attempting to prove a point about hearing second-hand information and making a decision based upon it rather than exploring the content on my own. I’ve never been to New Orleans. How could I possibly know whether or not I liked it?

The rest of the day was spent reading comical text messages and receiving phone calls about my sudden ire against Mormons. Again, I have nothing against the Mormon people—also, I know very little about their contemporary theology or goings-on.

Which led me to ponder this: How much is being lost in translation every day? The way in which we speak to one another matters, words matter. Words have meaning, yes, but they also contain power and authority. I find myself wandering in some conversations due to a word that is used, thus missing the content of the rest of the interaction. It’s an issue on which I’m working. Yet, I marvel at the power of words and the way we use them.

In conversation, especially difficult conversation, our words are not always received as intended. Ever had that happen? You make, according to you, an innocuous statement only to discern that it has been received as something completely unintended? Again, see hating Mormons above. When this happens, the spirit of the conversation is lost and the give-and-take turns to an argument over what was said, rather than the initial reason for the dialogue. When this occurs, our ability to communicate is lessened.

The sad thing? This happens all the time and is incapable of being completely averted (especially for the more loquacious individuals out there).

All we can do when these situations happen is take time, give time, and offer an apology. It is up to the person on the other end of the line to accept, refuse, or engage in future conversation. But it doesn’t give us license to wash our hands of the hurt. If you crumple a piece of paper, apologize to it and smooth it out, it’s still going to have remnants of the previous harm committed to it. When we say things to people that hurt them, there will usually be things thrown back at us, in turn, inflicting injury as well.

How do we break that cycle? How can we more effectively communicate?

This is where I believe our faith and system of believe can aid us in striking ways. If we are able to hold ourselves accountable for misspoken or ill-communicated ideals, then perhaps the other will be able to do the same. If we can apologize without adding an additional line, “I am sorry for the way I said what I said, but…” then the relationship and conversation can continue to thrive rather than be fractured. In most cases.

Jesus used confusing words with the people and the disciples around him. All the time. They were called parables. Even his best pal Peter had a difficult time understanding his buddy Christ, evoking Jesus’ righteous anger in the words “Get behind me, Satan.” Peter’s understanding wasn’t there, so he started talking rather than remaining silent until the rest of the thought was conveyed. If it happened between Christ and Peter, you can better believe it’s going to happen to us. The question: How will we respond?

When words fail, hearts prevail. It is our calling to be loving individuals, even when we do not like one another, momentarily. We are tasked with being forgiving people. Sometimes the only words that will work in tense situations are, “I’m sorry. I mean it. This is what I was trying to say…” And then allowing the other time to process the situation. It isn’t trite to type these words—it’s our Christian duty. With the upcoming election in 2024, with the ever-rising debate on…everything…we, now more than ever, have to remember our baptismal vows to “love and respect the dignity of every human being” and “proclaim by word and example the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Words have power and authority, yet language is broken and so are we. Thanks be to God that we have Christ as a mediator and advocate, to allow those broken moments to heal through the power of faith and love.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

A Diet of Faith

I dislike diets, as I have come to understand them. At least, up until two weeks ago. Diets never seem to work; they help one lose weight for a short period of time and then the practice goes away when said ‘goal’ is reached. Or I’ll get busy and fast-food is the only way I remember to eat. On the way up again, Mr. Scale, party of 200 coming your way. I have fluctuated in weight in a crazy way over the last five years, never seeming to be able to find homeostasis at a comfortable number. But I also like Eischen’s, brownies, and everything June Howard leaves on my desk.

I realized two weeks ago (yes, I’m a little slow on the uptake) that I needed help, so I called a friend who looks like an extra from the movie 300 and pled for aid. He set me up with a path of what to eat and how much to exercise, and also said, “This isn’t a diet, it’s a life change.” Turns out, ‘diet’ is the way we eat, not a period of time in which I have to say no to donuts.

Faith can be like this, too, regarding my previous understanding of diets. Sometimes our faith can be one of momentary need until a goal is reached, or until we get really busy and have to hurry through life and cut something out. Poof, there goes our practices that keep our faith strong, being cut out to make room for other things. I don’t think it’s ever intentional, but I do think that we tend to talk to God when we need favors more than we do when we’re in need of nothing at all. This isn’t completely true for everyone all the time, but I imagine that it is a little true for everyone at least some of the time.

Yet, our faith isn’t a momentary tenet of our lives. It’s an everyday sense of being. When I feel stretched, I will look for someone who lives like they walked straight out of the Ten Commandments; I’ll ask them for guidance, and pretty soon I’m back on the right track. But it takes work, and perseverance in the face of life’s busy seasons, to make time to put God first and everything else, second. When our faith is alive and well, our lives are better; this isn’t even an opinion, it’s just my observed truth. I’ve seen the difference in some of you when you’ve been down, and when you’ve been down but held your faith practices tightly. You are two different people at those points. I am much the same.

Our faith is a life-long diet of scripture, worship, fellowship, fun, and service to others. If we do all of those things, even in the slightest, every day? We will be at home in our own skin, even when things seemingly fall apart. If you’re down, and faith seems impossible to reach, give me a call, give a friend a call, or give someone a call. God will answer through them, to get you back to where you want to be.

…and where God is calling us to live.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+