How Do We Find Happiness? Finding Joy in Others’ Accomplishments

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Colossians 1:1-8

September 22, 2013

Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and Timothy our brother,

            To the saints and faithful brothers and sisters in Christ in Colossae:

                        Grace to you and peace from God our Father.

 In our prayers for you we always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, for we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love that you have for all the saints, because of the hope laid up for you in heaven. You have heard of this hope before in the word of the truth, the gospel that has come to you. Just as it is bearing fruit and growing in the whole world, so it has been bearing fruit among yourselves from the day you heard it and truly comprehended the grace of God. This you learned from Epaphras, our beloved fellow-servant. He is a faithful minister of Christ on your behalf, and he has made known to us your love in the Spirit.

            You know, it’s no secret to anyone who knows me, even a little bit, that I like sports. And it makes sense that I would like sports because I was a fairly good athlete growing up, and I played a lot of sports. I even played some sports at a fairly high level.

            I played soccer for a long time, till it was apparent that all those people who had good left feet were much better than me. I was a pretty good hockey player, at least for the Pittsburgh area. I was an all-star in ninth, tenth, and eleventh grade (I quite during my senior year—I got sick of all the fighting. The sport I excelled in was lacrosse. I was an all-star for two years in high school, and went on to play on a national championship team that was perennially one of the best teams in college lacrosse.

            I do have to admit, though, that despite love of sports, I’ve developed a problem with sports. The problem is that in our modern culture sports has become so dominant, and this hurts us at times individually and as a culture. I believe that in comparison to generations past, our culture isn’t as spiritually mature as it had been. And one main reason is that we spend too much time with sports. The irony is that in many ways we are a much more mature culture. We are certainly more mature technologically, socially, and in a few other ways. But spiritually, in terms of recognizing that there’s more to life than technology, entertainment, and stimulation, we are less mature.

            Look at what we immerse our lives in, especially as men. There are now nine channels devoted to just sports on local cable, and the weekends multiply the number of sporting events we can watch on TV. sevenfold. I heard a comment several years ago, which was that most men spend hours and hours each week preparing themselves by reading, watching, and studying info and stats for the upcoming Sunday football game. What if they just took a small portion of that time and devoted it to praying, reading the Bible, or growing spiritually? What if we prepared ourselves for church the way we prepare ourselves for football? In ages past, before there was ESPN or Root Sports, men and women did prepare for worship the way we might prepare for football today. Too much sports diminishes us spiritually.  

            In many ways, sport has become a dominant metaphor for our culture. For example, how often do we see life in terms of winners and losers? Certainly that is our dominant political metaphor. No matter what is done, it’s always expressed in terms of which party won and which one lost? Did the president win or lose? Did the speaker of the House or the Senate win or lose? In a diplomatic effort, did we win or lose? This is such simplistic way of looking at life, but it’s what our obsession with sports does to us.

            Still, with all of that said, there are some things I’ve learned from sports that have had tremendous significance in my life. Among the most significant lesson from sports I’ve learned is that on the best teams, players find joy in each other’s accomplishments. On bad teams, the players seem to care mostly about themselves—how often are they getting the ball or the puck, what their stats are, whether the team and fans praise them enough? On good teams, players don’t care as much about their personal stats. In fact, many recognize that for the team to be good, maybe their stats will suffer as they do more to help others rather than themselves. And on the best teams, the players take actual joy in the accomplishments of others. In fact, when you hear them interviewed, they often are quick to praise what a teammate did: “Did you what so-and-so did? It was amazing?” 

            I first noticed this when listening to an interview with Terry Bradshaw, the quarterback of the Pittsburgh Steelers four Super Bowl teams. He was asked how he made the leap from being a struggling quarterback to one who threw amazing passes to win games. He said that the change came when he began to take joy in throwing the ball and watching his two pro bowl wide receivers, Lynn Swann and John Stallworth, make fantastic leaping and diving catches. He began to see himself as the vehicle that allowed Swann and Stallworth to excel. And it made Bradshaw better in the process.

            I’ve seen similar attitudes on the Pittsburgh Penguins’ Stanley Cup teams, and the team in general. And I saw it on the championship team I played on.

            This dynamic isn’t only present in great sports teams. You see the same dynamic in the best plays, films, orchestras, bands, and especially in jazz. For example, listen to interviews of those in the best plays. The actors often will talk more about the joy they have received in acting opposite a certain actor or actress. They get excited in talking about the privilege of seeing these others act night in and night out.

            The converse of this principle is apparent on bad teams, in bad plays, in bad bands, bad companies, and bad politics. In these cases, people find joy mainly in their own accomplishments, while criticizing the accomplishments of others.

            Paul gives us an example this morning of what it means to have the spiritual maturity to take joy in others in his introduction of his letter to the Colossians. He says, “In our prayers for you we always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, for we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love that you have for all the saints, because of the hope laid up for you in heaven.” As Paul does in a number of his letters, he is full of praise for these people. Paul sees what’s right in them, not what’s wrong. And I believe that the most spirituality mature people always focus on what’s right in others, in the world, in situations, and in life, rather than on what’s wrong. I also believe that looking for what’s right in life is what makes life worth living, and when we surround ourselves with people who also see what’s right in life, it makes life amazing.

            I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I’ve been asked many times why I’ve stayed at Calvin Presbyterian Church for so long. It doesn’t happen as often now, but I have been asked many times by new members if I plan to leave anytime soon. I suppose it’s because new members don’t want to commit to Calvin Church if I’m on the verge of leaving. My answer is that I can’t foretell what God may have in store for me, and if I felt called to move onto somewhere else, I would, but that I also have no plans to leave.

            I’ve certainly have had my opportunities. I’ve been pursued in the past by many of large Presbyterian churches in the Pittsburgh area, and also a fair number of churches across the country, from New York City to Minneapolis to Texas to Los Angeles. And I’ve turned them all down. The question many outside of here have asked me is “Why do you stay in Zelienople when you could go somewhere else more prestigious, where you could make a bigger name for yourself.” My answer has always been the same: “I stay because those places wouldn’t be Calvin Church.”

            There’s something special about this place that you don’t find in most other churches. There’s an openness to God, to creativity, to caring about each other that is in short supply in so many places. I see so much what is right here.

            I don’t have to look far to find what’s right. I can start with the staff of Calvin Church. I LOVE working and ministering with everyone here. I think we’re more than just co-workers. For the most part we’re friends. But there’s more to it. I deeply appreciate what is right about everyone on staff here. It’s easy to look and complain about what’s wrong. And I’m sure we could all sit around and criticize. It is much harder to find other places where there is so much that is right. Just because a church is big and prestigious doesn’t mean that there’s a lot that’s “right” going on there.

            Look around Calvin Church and see what’s right. For instance, I love listening to Connie Frierson’s sermons and children’s sermons. She and I had a conversation the other day about her sermons. I mentioned to her that I know that associate pastors always wonder what senior pastors are thinking, and wonder if their sermon and other things measure up. I told her that that’s not the way I listen to her. I actually listen to what she says so that I can gain insight into life. I’m not listening for what’s wrong. I’m paying attention to what she has to say about life and how we can live it better. And I’m often quick to quote things she has said in both her sermons and children’s sermons.

            I also feel tremendously blessed to be part of this music program. It’s not just Bruce Smith, our music director, although he’s a big part of it. I love to hear Bruce play. I love to hear Toni Schlemmer, our associate music director, sing. I love to hear DeWayne Segafredo, our keyboardist, play. And what really amazes me is that DeWayne will often come to worship after having gone to bed at 3 or 4 a.m. the night before because of his business, which is supplying lighting and sound for local bands all around the Western Pennsylvania area. Four minutes before a service he and Bruce will choose what to play, and it’s amazing to watch them play seamlessly together. Often Toni has to adapt to both of them because they don’t tell her ahead of time what they are playing, so she plugs in and sings wonderful solos. We’ve added Derek Stoltenberg on percussions this summer, and what he has added to our worship music has been incredible. He did something, as an example, a few weeks ago when supporting a jazz piece that Bruce was playing that was tremendous. He had been playing on his cajóne (the wooden box that he plays), and then started to clap his hands, his thighs, and his chest in a way that was so cool. He adds sounds that we don’t expect, and I find joy in all of this.

            I also find joy in all the others who work here, and do things that no one notices. Secretaries and treasurers are always lightning rods for criticism in a congregation, but in Michelle Shepler and Karen Frank we are blessed to have two people who do so much behind the scenes at such a high quality, that it leaves only small things to criticize. That’s the mark of good support staff—that they get criticized for dumb, small things because they do the important things so well. I also really appreciate our sound and visual people during worship—Scott Caputy and Tom Reiber. They do so much that you don’t really see or hear that it makes all the rest of us look good.

            It’s for all these reasons that I stay here, but there’s also one more—You. This church’s members are exceptional. I think that the main reason we’ve grown so consistently as a church is all of you. We have a reputation as being a church that cares for people no matter who you are, and you can’t gain that reputation without earning it. There are a lot of bigger churches, a lot of bigger name churches, and a lot of better-known churches, but there aren’t any better churches. And you are the reason behind that.

            The simple answer for why I stay is that I see what’s right in this place. I feel a lot like Paul did about the Colossians—I love the accomplishments of others, and I take joy in seeing others do things so well, whether it’s our staff or our members. I’ve also discovered that many times pastors don’t feel this way. I have a friend who was a music director for a church in Illinois. After she was there for a year, and after resurrecting a declining music program, the pastor took her aside and said, “You know, you need to tone down your anthems and music a bit. They’re making me look bad because of their quality. The reality is that people are here to hear my sermons. You’re diminishing my sermons by being too energetic and passionate.” This is an attitude that too many have in church and life. They don’t take joy in others’ accomplishments, but feel threatened.

            Ultimately, I believe that to be a mature Christian means to see what’s best in each other, and especially to share in the joy that we can bring to each other.  The question to reflect on is this: what do you see around you that is terribly right?

            Amen.

How Do We Find Happiness? Finding the Forest

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1 Timothy 1:12-17

September 15, 2013

 I am grateful to Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because he judged me faithful and appointed me to his service, even though I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the foremost. But for that very reason I received mercy, so that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display the utmost patience, making me an example to those who would come to believe in him for eternal life. To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

            I think that the apostle Paul was a closet happy guy. He really was, although “happy guy” is not the persona that most people think of when they think of Paul. Paul has a reputation among many Christians as being something of a crankypants. A lot of this has to do with the fact that many of Paul’s letters seem angry and critical, especially his two letters to the Corinthians. He says some pretty blunt and condemning things to those folks.

           

            The reason we think of Paul as dour is that we only have his responses, not what he was responding to. When you dig into Paul’s letters, you begin to realize that his most critical letters were defenses of himself and his teachings in response to a number of scathing letters he had received. Imagine if, 2000 years from now, someone was doing research on you, but only had the emails you wrote in response to a number of denigrating emails you had received, not the original emails sent to you. What would those researchers think of you? Would they say that you were defensive, thin-skinned, angry, or unreasonable?  

            Despite his reputation as being a sour, dour, glowering man, I think Paul actually was happy, and found a key to happiness. And that key is found in our passage for this morning when he says, “I am grateful to Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because he judged me faithful and appointed me to his service, even though I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence.” Paul knew who he had been, but he didn’t let it keep him from who he was called to be. He knew that he had done terrible, terrible things against the early Christians. He had persecuted them, contributed to the stoning to death of the first martyr, Stephen, and led an expedition to Damascus to hunt down Christians in order to bring them back to Jerusalem to stand trial. Then it all changed when he had a vision of Christ on the way to Damascus, which transformed his whole life. In a blinding flash he realized that everything he was doing was actually persecuting God, whom he had sworn to serve as a Pharisaic rabbi. Paul knew he had been a very bad man, which was made worse by his conviction that he had been a good man. Yet he didn’t wallow in his past. He focused on thanking God and being available to God.

            Paul’s letters might have been critical at times, but they were also exceedingly gracious. He starts most letters praising God for those he is writing to, as well as praising them. This is a man who often, because of his preaching and teaching, was illegally beaten, imprisoned, and flogged, yet he never lost his passion or praise in serving God.  

            Paul understood a simple idea that psychologists are now finding among those who tend to be happiest with their lives. These people always see the forest for the trees. In other words, they make mistakes, they struggle, they face difficult times, and they have down times, but in the end they always keep a bigger picture in view. They know what their lives are about, and most often their lives are about making a difference for others.

            Paul made a huge mistake, and along the way he struggled, got hurt, was in bad situations, and made more mistakes. Still, he always kept in mind a bigger picture. He always let go and let God—he let go of the bad, and kept in mind the good that God was calling him to do. You hear this in our passage: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the foremost. But for that very reason I received mercy, so that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display the utmost patience, making me an example to those who would come to believe in him for eternal life.” He’s saying that he knows he was wrong, but he also knows that Christ was calling him to more, and that it was a life filled with love for others and himself.

            What many psychologists are finding is that those who struggle most in life often do so because they get obsessed with the details of everything. For example, many can’t let go of the past. Perhaps someone they trusted hurt them. Perhaps they hurt someone close. Perhaps they failed mightily at something. Perhaps they were ignored and rejected by others. They review these pains over and over and over and over. They obsess. They feel pain or shame, and stew over it. They get stuck. But the happy ones learn to let all of this go in order to become open to a better way of living life. Sure, they might think about this stuff at time, and even feel remorse or sadness, but they learn to eventually let the past pass.

            Others among the unhappy become obsessed with noticing the faults of others in exquisite detail. They notice every slight, every possible eye roll, every mistake and failure, and everything that the other does to disappoint us. Also, those who are unhappy tend to get bogged down in their own frustrations and problems. They let issues linger, whether they are issues with their relationships, their work, even games. For example, did you know that in cities that have pro football teams, every time the home team loses the rates of domestic violence go up? These are unhappy people because they can’t remember that football is entertainment and just a game. If the game doesn’t go well, it’s like going to a bad play or movie. Walk away and move on to other things. There’s so much good in life to pay attention to.

            Happy people have problems, notice faults, get frustrated, and have issues, but they also have the ability to let them all go in a reasonable time. They choose to focus on what’s right rather than on what’s wrong. Jesus teaches this lesson: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” In other words, learn to let go and let God.

            For me, the person who really personifies this idea is Donna Rice Hughes. Search your memory banks. You probably remember her from the 1987 Democratic presidential primary. She helped derail the presidential ambitions of Gary Hart, a senator from Colorado. Hart had been a rising star in the Democratic Party, and many thought that he would be the perfect Democratic Party answer to the end of Ronald Reagan’s term. Hart was smart, articulate, telegenic, and had a track record of accomplishments in the U.S. Senate.

            There were also rumors. It was being spread about that Hart was having an affair, or a series of affairs. The press confronted him, and Hart not only denied it, but laid out a challenge: “Follow me. You won’t find anything.” So a Miami Herald reporter took him up on his offer. He followed Hart around, and discovered that he had spent the night at the apartment of a 29 year-old, former model named Donna Rice. The reporter also uncovered a damning photo of Rice, sitting on Hart’s lap, on a Florida dock. Hart had on a t-shirt that seemed to describe himself:  “Crew of the Monkey Business.” He also had been photographed with Rice on a boat called “Monkey Business.”  Hart soon plummeted in the race for president, and eventually dropped out of the race altogether.

            Donna Rice, meanwhile, became the butt of jokes. People pointed at her and stared wherever she went. She had to piece her life back together, but it wasn’t easy. She had to both figure out how she wanted to live her life moving forward, but also how to let go of this incident that had completely ruined her life. It wasn’t easy because she was a victim of both Hart and the press, but was treated as though she was the cause of all of Hart’s problems. This was not how she imagined her life going. She had been making a series of small, bad decisions, but they were also leading to a lifestyle that was exciting and glamorous. She felt that she was on top of the world until it all came crashing down.

            She reflected on all of this in a 2013 interview: “Toward the end of my college career, I started making these little left hand turns. Before long I was dating some non-Christian guys and thought, "That's not a big deal." It's hard to believe how you can go from here to there—you don't go there overnight, you go there by little wrong choices. I saw Hart only twice, but ... God was trying to get my attention prior to that, and it took an international sex scandal because I was stubborn. God will track you down. He will let things happen, the natural consequences of our choices.”

            Rice did piece her life back together. First she cared for a disabled woman for seven years. Then she met her husband and married. After stabilizing her life and raising children, she eventually decided to turn her notoriety into a positive. She helped start an organization called “Enough Is Enough,” which promotes internet safety and sexual wholeness for teens and children. She teaches parents how to become aware of the dangers on the web, and how to steer children to sites that promote a positive life, not a destructive one. As she has said, in reflection of her life, “Oddly, I was Miss Scandal Queen 1987 and now I'm seen as this voice of decency and morality. That's a God thing."

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            Basically what all of this points to is that happiness is a choice. But for some people it’s a really difficult choice because it means letting go of the need to cling to frustrations, mistakes, problems, cynicisms, anger, perceived slights, and more. The apostle Paul shows the way. He knew that what he did was worse than anything you’ve ever done, or that I’ve ever done. And the things done to him were worse than anything most of us have ever, or will ever, experience. Yet he learned to let go and let God.

            Amen.

How Do We Find Happiness? Risk over Reward

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1 Samuel 17:1-11, 32-37

September 8, 2013

Now the Philistines gathered their armies for battle; they were gathered at Socoh, which belongs to Judah, and encamped between Socoh and Azekah, in Ephes-dammim. Saul and the Israelites gathered and encamped in the valley of Elah, and formed ranks against the Philistines. The Philistines stood on the mountain on one side, and Israel stood on the mountain on the other side, with a valley between them.

And there came out from the camp of the Philistines a champion named Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. He had a helmet of bronze on his head, and he was armored with a coat of mail; the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of bronze. He had greaves of bronze on his legs and a javelin of bronze slung between his shoulders. The shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam, and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels of iron; and his shield-bearer went before him.

He stood and shouted to the ranks of Israel, ‘Why have you come out to draw up for battle? Am I not a Philistine, and are you not servants of Saul? Choose a man for yourselves, and let him come down to me. If he is able to fight with me and kill me, then we will be your servants; but if I prevail against him and kill him, then you shall be our servants and serve us.’ And the Philistine said, ‘Today I defy the ranks of Israel! Give me a man, that we may fight together.’

When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and greatly afraid. David said to Saul, ‘Let no one’s heart fail because of him; your servant will go and fight with this Philistine.’ Saul said to David, ‘You are not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him; for you are just a boy, and he has been a warrior from his youth.’

But David said to Saul, ‘Your servant used to keep sheep for his father; and whenever a lion or a bear came, and took a lamb from the flock, I went after it and struck it down, rescuing the lamb from its mouth; and if it turned against me, I would catch it by the jaw, strike it down, and kill it. Your servant has killed both lions and bears; and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be like one of them, since he has defied the armies of the living God.’ David said, ‘The Lord, who saved me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, will save me from the hand of this Philistine.’ So Saul said to David, ‘Go, and may the Lord be with you!’

            You know, over the years I’ve heard an interesting criticism of many preachers. Maybe you’ve criticized me for this. This criticism of preachers is fairly persistent, and I especially hear it from people who obviously like their sermons be “biblical” or “theological.” The criticism is, “That pastor’s sermons are too much about psychology, and not enough about the Bible.”

            I’ve heard people across the board say this stuff. I’ve heard it from members of pastor search committees, criticizing candidates. I’ve heard it from theology professors in their criticism of modern preaching. I’ve heard it from more conservative Christians who like sermons about salvation and morality, and I’ve heard it from liberal Christians who want sermons to be more about social justice.

            I find this criticism of “psychological” preaching to be a bit odd, though, because it’s not as though psychology is foreign to the Bible. In fact, the Bible is filled with lessons of basic psychology. No matter what part of the Bible you read, you find it focusing on how people think, how people behave, and how people should change their thinking and behaving. Isn’t that what psychology is basically about? It’s about understanding people’s attitudes, how they influence their thought processes, and how these influence people’s behavior. Psychology is about how to change attitudes, thinking, and behavior. And the Bible cares about these things, too.

            For instance, look at the story of Joseph in the Old Testament. It is filled with psychology. The story begins with Joseph, who has a huge EGO, telling his brothers of his dreams that they would all bow down before him one day. Makes you want to shout out to Joseph, “It’s okay to think it, Joseph, but you don’t have to say it!” His brothers get sick of his attitude and behaviors, so they first throw him in a pit to kill him, and then sell him into slavery. From there Joseph goes through a major attitude adjustment as he suffers a major ego blow, first in slavery, then in prison. The basic humility that comes about from these two experiences allows him to eventually ascend to a position of prominence, and to succeed. They also lead him to forgive his brothers.

            The story of Moses and the Israelites has a similar psychology. Moses is on top of the world as a special person in Pharaoh’s house, but after killing an Egyptian guard who was beating an Israelite slave, Moses has to spend the next 40 years in the desert. The whole psychology is a desert one of learning to let go of ego in order to become responsible and responsive to God and others. The Israelite 40-year journey through the desert matches Moses’ psychological journey.

            The Book of Proverbs is a book of pithy, self-help-ish, psychology statements meant to lead a person to better life. Jesus’ parables almost always deal with psychological issues, as does much of Paul’s writing. In essence, you can’t read the Bible without getting a healthy dose of psychology. Whenever I hear the criticism that someone preaches psychology, not Bible, I wonder what parts of the Bible don’t deal with psychology, sociology, anthropology, philosophy, biology, economics, and so much more. In fact, part of what makes the Bible so powerful is that it dealt with all of these topics before there were these topics.

            So, with this little self-protective intro, I want to introduce our new sermon series for the Fall, which is “How Do We Find Happiness?” It’s an exploration of the spirituality and psychology of happiness, culled from the Bible.

            I’ve been fascinated with this topic for a long time because the idea of the pursuit of happiness is so ingrained in our culture. It was a founding idea seen first in the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” We are a culture that places the drive to be happy at the core of our beliefs, yet if that’s the case, why do so few people seem to find happiness? Why do so many people pursue it, but don’t catch it? The reality is that in our culture so many of the people who get so much of what’s supposed to make them happy end up unhappy, while so many who have so little of what’s supposed to make them happy end up happy.

            What really cemented my awareness of this fact was a conversation I had with an African priest at Duquesne University, while studying for my doctorate. The program I studied in had Catholic and Protestant students from all over the world. And one student, Father Stephen from Kenya, once made a piercing comment over lunch. I had asked him what stood out most about having come to America for two years to get his masters degree. He said that two things stood out. First was how hard it was to decide on what cereal to buy. He said that in his country, Kenya, there were only about three or four choices, but here there were over 200. He said he could spend 30 minutes in a cereal aisle choosing cereal. His comment was that Americans have too much choice that it’s paralyzing. It was his second comment, though, that really struck me: “In our country, we are materially poor, but spiritually rich. In this country you are materially rich, but spiritually poor.” He mentioned that in most the churches here, people seem so offended when offerings are taken up. He said that we have so much money, but we make it seem like being asked to give is a terrible burden. Meanwhile, in his country the people have so little to give, but the offering typically takes 30 minutes because people dance up the aisles with their offerings of money, chickens, pigs, corn, and everything else. His take: Americans have so much to give, but hate to give. Kenyans have so little to give, but love to give.

            To me, Father Stephen was the epitome of what makes someone happy. Basically, happy people seek risks and challenges that stretch them, not rewards that enrich them. What does that mean for us, who live in a culture that pursues rewards for their own sake. The happiest people pursue challenges, without considering whether they will lead to great reward. Simply put, the happiest people aren’t the ones who get great rewards for what they do, but the ones who take risks that lead to great experiences of life. These are people who seek a calling, not comfort. They are curious, and follow that curiosity to take on challenges that come with following callings in life. They are people like David, who was willing to risk battling Goliath, without expecting a reward. They are people like Abraham, a city-dweller who was wiling to follow God into the wilderness and become a nomad. They are people like Jesus, who was willing to walk and preach, teach, and heal, regardless of reward or threat.

            I want to close with two stories that I believe capture this idea of happiness coming from risk and challenge rather than reward. The first is about a man named Blake Mycoskie. You may have actually seen Blake Mycoskie before, but there’s a better chance that you wear something that he makes.

            Mycoskie became somewhat well-known after appearing on the 2003 television show, The Amazing Race. He finished third that year, but made a promise to himself that he would return to visit one of the countries the race ran through: Argentina. It was on a follow-up vacation trip to Buenos Aries that he had an epiphany. While in the city, he decided to spend a day helping the poor. He latched onto a local charity that handed out shoes to the poor of the city. Mycoskie was floored by how many of the poor didn’t even have shoes—something he took for granted. He wondered what he could do to improve the situation.

            Returning to the U.S., and taking money from a previous business he had sold, he started Tom’s Shoes. You may know of the company, and even be wearing a pair. The shoes are well made, but very pricey for basic shoes. This is a for-profit company that has as its motto “One-to-One.” The idea is that every time you buy one pair of shoes, you not only buy a pair of shoes for yourself, but one new pair for someone who is poor. The shoe company has been such a great success that he started Tom’s Eyewear, which has a similar one-to-one philosophy. Each time you purchase a pair of Tom’s glasses, you either buy glasses for someone who is impoverished, or pay for an operation that restores sight.

            Blake Mycoskie is a person who has received great reward, but it’s not the reward that drove him. It was the risk and challenge of following his call.

            Another man who has sought out the risk of God’s calling is George McDonald. McDonald had to overcome a very difficult life to make a difference in the world. His parents divorced before he was a one-year-old. He never really knew his father. Then his mother died when he was thirteen, meaning that he was left under the care of a local Roman Catholic school and orphanage. It was there that he learned values that would come back later to guide his life, such as caring about the poor and the homeless. Yet it was also there that he decided he never wanted to be poor again, and dedicated himself to a life of acquiring rewards: i.e. wealth.

            Graduating from the orphanage high school, he entered college, but he wasn’t a student. After one year, he dropped out to work for McGregor Sportswear. He quickly rose up the ranks and became wealthy, eating out most nights in very expensive restaurants, partying at Club 21, and counting Joe Namath as one of his friends. He was getting all the rewards he felt he deserved, after having grown up in such a hard life. Then something happened to spark a change in his thinking. It was 1968, and tragedy hit the nation again when Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated. McDonald’s whole perspective was challenged and changed. He kept thinking about how the world’s priorities were skewed. The change wasn’t immediately apparent, but he increasingly thought more about the poor and the disadvantaged, and what he could do to help them. He noticed the disparity when he would go out to dinner and spend $200, only to have to step around a homeless man lying on the sidewalk while leaving the restaurant. It gnawed at him.

            Trying to do something about the problem, he decided to run for Congress. Three times he ran and three times he lost. Risk taken, but no reward. Still, he had made valuable connections in the political world that would come in handy as he looked for ways to help the poor. Wanting to make a more tangible difference, he spent 700 straight nights handing out sandwiches to the poor. Still he realized that more could be done. Eventually he developed a vision. He would create a program to train the homeless to work, and to give them lives off the street. That’s how he came up with the idea for the “Ready, Willing, and Able” program—a program to get the homeless off the street, train them for work, and get them jobs and homes. It’s also how he decided to start a charitable fund, the “Doe Fund,” which would fund efforts to reach out to the homeless. It got its name from a homeless woman, Mama Doe, who was locked out of Grand Central Station by police one subzero night, a place where she regularly slept on freezing nights. She froze to death. He recognized her from her picture in the paper, wearing a scarf he had given her three weeks before, while also realizing that he had regularly given her sandwiches. 

            Sparked by her death he found the drive to do something for the homeless. Since then he has committed his life to getting people off the streets and back into a responsible life. He found his life work as a servant, serving the poor, the hungry, and the homeless. He is a David, fighting a Goliath, seeking the risks and challenges put in front of him, rather than seeking reward.  

            The simple point that both men’s lives have shown is that it’s not life in pursuit of rewards that matters—whether wealth, power, or prestige—but life in pursuit of the risk of calling that matters.

            Amen.

Coincidence or Providence? Driving through Zelie

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Numbers 22:22-35

August 25, 2013

God’s anger was kindled because he was going, and the angel of the Lord took his stand in the road as his adversary. Now he was riding on the donkey, and his two servants were with him. The donkey saw the angel of the Lord standing in the road, with a drawn sword in his hand; so the donkey turned off the road, and went into the field; and Balaam struck the donkey, to turn it back on to the road. Then the angel of the Lord stood in a narrow path between the vineyards, with a wall on either side. When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it scraped against the wall, and scraped Balaam’s foot against the wall; so he struck it again. Then the angel of the Lord went ahead, and stood in a narrow place, where there was no way to turn either to the right or to the left. When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it lay down under Balaam; and Balaam’s anger was kindled, and he struck the donkey with his staff. Then the Lord opened the mouth of the donkey, and it said to Balaam, ‘What have I done to you, that you have struck me these three times?’ Balaam said to the donkey, ‘Because you have made a fool of me! I wish I had a sword in my hand! I would kill you right now!’ But the donkey said to Balaam, ‘Am I not your donkey, which you have ridden all your life to this day? Have I been in the habit of treating you in this way?’ And he said, ‘No.’

 Then the Lord opened the eyes of Balaam, and he saw the angel of the Lord standing in the road, with his drawn sword in his hand; and he bowed down, falling on his face. The angel of the Lord said to him, ‘Why have you struck your donkey these three times? I have come out as an adversary, because your way is perverse before me. The donkey saw me, and turned away from me these three times. If it had not turned away from me, surely I would by now have killed you and let it live.’ Then Balaam said to the angel of the Lord, ‘I have sinned, for I did not know that you were standing in the road to oppose me. Now therefore, if it is displeasing to you, I will return home.’ The angel of the Lord said to Balaam, ‘Go with the men; but speak only what I tell you to speak.’ So Balaam went on with the officials of Balak.

            I think this story about Baalam is really interesting, and I think this for two reasons. The first reason demonstrates my immaturity, but the second reason has to do with the fact that Balaam’s story demonstrates how God often works in ways we neither expect nor appreciate.

            Let’s start with the reason that has to do with my immaturity. I’ve always found the Balaam story to be funny the way it was translated in the older versions of the Bible. In newer versions of the Bible it says that Balaam died his donkey to a tree and walked a ways to meet the king, Balak. But in older versions, where donkeys were called “asses,” it says that Balaam tied his ass to a tree and walked a mile. See, I told you I’m immature.

            Still, when I tap into my more spiritually mature moments, I recognize that this story reveals a lot about our experiences of God, and how God uses the supernatural to impact us. Our passage takes place after Balaam has begged God to let him speak to King Balak about the Jews. Neither one are Jewish, but Balaam is still considered to be God’s prophet. And he feels the need to speak to Balak, but God forbids it. Balaam begs, and finally God relents. Then, after further consideration, God decides that this is not what Balaam should do, so he sends an angel to appear to Balaam’s donkey, blocking the path with a flaming sword. Why not appear to Balaam, too? It doesn’t say, but I have a theory: it has to do with the fact that at this point Balaam is interested mainly in his own interests and plans, not God’s. Balaam is closed off to God. But the donkey, being a creature of God, is still open to God. The point is that whether we experience God or not often has more to do with our own openness to God then with God’s availability to us.

            This leads me to my own coincidental/providential experience, which eventually led me to come to Calvin Church. I had something of a Balaam experience the first time I drove through Zelienople. It wasn’t quite the same. There were no donkeys or angels that I could see, nor any beatings. But there were things going on in terms of where God wanted me to eventually serve as pastor.

            At the time I was in the midst of taking the year off to write my Ph.D. dissertation. I also had just begun the process of interviewing with churches for my return to ministry once my dissertation was completed. Diane and I were living in the North Park in a house surrounded by fields, trees, turkey, and deer. I was spending six to eight hours a day reading and writing. I had recently finished writing the first three chapters of what became a 10-chapter, 400 page dissertation.

            I had recently sent to my first and second supervising professors (we call them “readers”) my introduction and Chapter 1. Like many Ph.D. candidates writing their dissertations, I sent mine off, convinced (or hoping) that my erudition, insight, and writing would amaze my professors. I sent off a pristine package of pages, proud of my work and expecting the best. Several weeks later I received back these same pages, covered in red ink. Everything was torn apart. My sentence structure wasn’t good enough. My citations weren’t done properly enough. My insights were criticized. My conclusions were questioned. Almost all Ph.D. candidates have similar experience, and when we do we go into a bit of a funk since our egos have been squashed. I was no different. Receiving the first round of critiques from my first reader crushed me. Then he delivered worse news: “Scott, your second reader, should be sending his comments by the end of next week.” And when I received them, there was even more red ink. I was left feeling depressed.

            Diane, trying to talk me off the ledge, had an idea to cheer me up. She suggested that we go to Sharon, Pennsylvania to try the wings at Quaker Steak & Lube. You may not know this, but I am a big fan of chicken wings. In fact, having spent a number of years playing in lacrosse tournaments in the Buffalo, New York area, I became a bit of a wing snob. Back then I could eat wings all the time. Unfortunately, since then I’ve also found that you really can’t eat wings all the time because they’ll not only end up in your belly, but bulging your belly. Anyway, she tempted me by telling me that they had a reputation as having the best wings in the world. I wasn’t going to let that challenge go untested.

            We decided to drive there via route 19 to see the fall foliage, which meant we had to pass through Zelienople. I was singing along to whatever song was on the radio as we crested the hill to descend into Zelie. Immediately I was intrigued. I had never seen the town before because I had always passed by along I-79.

            As we drove through Zelienople, I kept saying to Diane, “Now this is the kind of place I’d like to live.  Look at this!”  Something deep was striking me about the town. It felt almost like I was driving through home. We drove around the town, looking, and as I passed by all the churches I commented on them, saying things like, “Now that church would not be a good church to be a pastor of because there is no room to grow. That church there has potential, but it is too close to the surrounding buildings.” We took a right on 68, just to see what was there. As we approached Calvin Church, I said, “Wow, that’s a church with potential. You can see that it has room to grow, and if you just look at the sign out front, you can tell it’s a church that isn’t stuck in the past” (you’d be surprised what you can tell about a place by even the most inane things). I then wondered, “What are the chances that they would be looking for a pastor?” I had asked that question more in jest than seriously. It seemed unlikely that I would consider Calvin Church because at the time I was working on starting a new church in the North Hills of Pittsburgh.

            We turned around, got back onto route 19, and I didn’t think much about it again. Eventually we got to Sharon, had our wings (which were good, but not as good as the ones from the place I consider to be the pinnacle of wingdom: Mammoser's Tavern in Hamburg, NY), and came back home via I-79.

            8 months later I was contacted about an opening at Calvin Presbyterian Church. It floored me. Was this the church I looked at? I had to find out, so I sent in my forms to be considered for the position of pastor. Still, it didn’t occur to me that I would actually come here. I was really just hedging my bets. As I mentioned, I had been working on starting a new kind of church in the North Hills area, and was working on it with Pittsburgh Presbytery. At first, that experience had been positive, but recently it was becoming more difficult. I was experiencing resistance from some of the other churches who saw this new church idea as a threat to their churches.

            The idea I had for a church was VERY different from new churches being developed at the time. Those churches were built on contemporary Christian praise music and small groups. I wanted to create a church grounded in spiritual growth, where pushing people to grow deeper spiritually through worship would be a focus. As to music, I had a novel idea. I had come to the realization that in life virtually no one listened to only one kind of music. When most people get in their cars, they listen to some sort of combination of pop, classic rock, country, r&b, classical, jazz, talk, and news. They move around the dial, looking for songs they like more than just genres that they like. Almost no one listened to just one form of music (in a poll this past Sunday morning, on how many just listened to classical, only 4 out of 200 in attendance raised their hands), so why only offer one kind of music in worship. Most people listen to a variety. So let’s offer music of every kind. I also wanted worship that integrated prayer, silence, praise, weekly communion, preaching in a conversational way, and a number of other ideas culled from different Christian traditions. No one had a name for this kind of worship. I discovered ten years later that a new name had since emerged, which is “emergent.” I was trying to start a church much like the Hot Metal Community Church on Pittsburgh’s Southside, but in the suburbs.

            While developing my ideas for that church, I also interviewed with other, more established churches. I had turned down offers from some because I felt more called to start this new church. In the midst of all this, the search committee from Calvin Church contacted me to interview me. Could they come and hear me preach? Since I wasn’t serving in a church, the best I could do was to have them come and see me teach a class at Southminster Presbyterian Church in Mt. Lebanon. The committee decided to drive down on a night of driving rains and high winds. The committee not only watched me teach, but afterwards decided to pull chairs in a circle and interview me. When members of Southminster suggested that the classroom was being shut down, and people were going to other events, the committee said, “That’s okay, we’ll straighten up and turn the lights off.”  We then had a 45-minute, laughter-filled interview. Once again, I was starting to become intrigued by Zelienople.

            Several months later, the committee invited me to be the next pastor. I turned them down, saying I was committed to seeing if I could start a new church. They wouldn’t let me turn them down. They said, “What if we just agree that you decide in December, after the presbytery decides whether or not to go forward. If they do, we’ll keep looking. If they don’t, you come here.” Again, an amazing response. It really seemed like God was all through my contacts with Zelienople and Calvin Church.

            In December of 1995 we took the new church idea before Pittsburgh Presbytery. Some pastors walked out of the meeting early, protesting the idea and stating that money shouldn’t go into this church, but should go only to inner city churches. The evangelicals complained that the idea wasn’t evangelical enough, with one pastor stating that only contemporary churches can work in the suburbs. Others complained that it wasn’t liberal enough. It was an awful experience, made worse by the fact that I wasn’t allowed to defend myself, or the church idea, because of procedural rules. Then, some of the pastors made false charges about my motivation for proposing the idea, with one pastor standing up and saying to the whole assembly, “Graham’s only proposing this because he can’t find a church anywhere else willing to take him!” By this point, I had actually turned down several offers from other churches, was holding onto an offer from Calvin Church and another that had just come in from Columbus, Ohio, and was in the interview process with three others in Maryland and Philadelphia. I understand why he said it, though. Three pastors of the North Hills had met with me two months before over lunch, and had said point blank to me, “We’re worried you are going to take our members, so we’re going to do whatever we can to make sure you don’t get this thing off the ground.” They had told this pastor that I was only doing this out of desperation. One of the three apologized to me three weeks after their lunch with me. He did speak on behalf of the new church idea at that presbytery meeting. Still, the meeting had become so toxic that the members decided to table the vote for the February meeting. I walked away knowing that this new church idea really wasn’t God’s will for me.

            I’m not sure whether the new church idea originally was God’s idea or my own, but the negativity and toxicity that had begun to surround it had become much like an angel appearing before the donkey and Balaam. Perhaps I was seeing for the first time what God really wanted. I walked away from that meeting, got home and cried for 10 minutes, called up the chair of the Calvin Presbyterian Church search committee, and told her that I was coming to Calvin Church. What had begun almost a year earlier with a trip to get chicken wings turned into a clear sense of God’s calling to come to Zelienople.

            From these coincidences, these God-incidence providences, I’ve learned a number of lessons, but I want to share two.

            The first lesson is that just because we don’t sense God, that doesn’t mean God’s not doing anything. We generally depend upon our seeing and hearing when deciding whether or not God is doing anything in our lives, or in life in general. If we can’t see or hear tangible evidence of God working, we tend to think with some certainty that God either isn’t doing anything, or that God doesn’t exist.

            I’ve discovered, through my experiences, that God is often doing many things beyond our grasp. Sometimes we catch glimpses, such as my driving through Zelienople, but because we don’t think it’s significant at the time we don’t attach it to God. In those cases, the most insignificant seeming things can eventually become the most. At other times we catch no glimpses, but time passes and we look back, discovering that God had been doing things all along, bringing events together, and making things happen in areas we never knew. For example, at the same time I was driving through Zelienople, Calvin Church was just hiring an interim pastor and getting ready to create a search committee. Just because I didn’t know that didn’t mean that God wasn’t doing anything.

            A second lesson I learned is that we have to learn to become spiritually sensitive, recognizing any moment or any experience as being potentially filled with God. I’ve learned that our inability to see or sense God often has to do with our own lack of sensitivity. We have to learn to become open to God, asking “what do you want,” rather than “God, do what I want.”

           

            The big question is, how do you get to be that open? For Christians there’s a simple formula: Way follows Will. If your will is in the right place, where you really put your will in a place where you want to discover God, the way will become clear. Often we confuse this, thinking that will must follow way. In other words, if God shows us the way, we will will it to be so. But in the Christian life, way follows will. This is a common message throughout Scripture. When we will what God wills, the way to discover God’s will becomes apparent because God reveals it to us. God leads us to learn how to pray, how to read Scripture, how to worship, how to live. The point is that we have to put our will in the right place, and if we do, God will help us to find the way.

            So, in summary, God is doing something in your life right now. The question is, are you ready to discover it?

            Amen.

Coincidenses or Providences? Why Was I Invited to the Wedding?

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John 2:1-11

August 18, 2013

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, ‘They have no wine.’ And Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.’ His mother said to the servants, ‘Do whatever he tells you.’ Now standing there were six stone water-jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, ‘Fill the jars with water.’ And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, ‘Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.’ So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, ‘Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.’ Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

            Over the course of the summer Connie and I have been exploring the nature of Christian coincidence, God-incidence, and providence in people’s lives. We’ve been telling stories both about ourselves and of others, digging in to learn what these coincidences can teach us about God and life.

            This morning I want to share with you a coincidence that changed the course of my life, not necessarily leading me to a change of careers or something like that, but to a change of focus. It was a coincidence that led me to permanently form a passion to Christian spirituality and for connecting with and experiencing God. 

            I want to take you back to 1989, when I was an associate pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Murrysville, Pennsylvania. When I first became an associate there, my job was not to lead the youth group, but because prior to my becoming a pastor most of my life had been immersed in work with children and youth, I was asked to spend at least a year resurrecting heir youth program, which had lapsed to just 5 teens. I had worked with mentally retarded children during the summers while in college, had done an internship as a probation office for the Roanoke, Virginia, City Probation Office, had worked as a therapist in a psychiatric hospital, and had worked some with inner city kids while in seminary, it made sense to ask me to help.

           

            One of the things I really wanted to do with the teens was to expose them to a different way of thinking spiritually. I wanted to expose them to prayer, a sense of God’s immediate presence, and to a sense that God works in ways that go beyond rational thinking and typical human thought.

            As part of that process, I invited two young women to come and speak to the youth group about their spiritual experiences. One woman’s name was Betsy, and I asked her to come because her family had been heavily involved in leading people from around the country on pilgrimages to Medjugorje, a small town in what was then Yugoslavia, where 8 young people had been having apparitions of the Virgin Mary. Many people who had taken these pilgrimages had had both intense spiritual experiences and healings, and I wanted her to talk about them with our youth. 

            I also invited a friend of hers’, Anne, who had had her own healing experience in Medjugorje. Both Betsy and Anne \ had been classmates (I think) of my high school girlfriend’s sister, so I had known them through her. Anne’s story was inspirational, and Betsy was tremendous in adding other stories of events and experiences that augmented what Anne had to say.

            Back in the late 1980s, Anne had contracted what today is called the Epstein-Barr virus. At the time it was not recognized as a virus. Instead, it was called “yuppie syndrome” or chronic fatigue syndrome. The virus originally showed up among young urban professionals in New York City (yuppies), and because so many people had nothing but scorn for them, the illness wasn’t taken seriously for a long time. In fact, it was often considered to be a mental problem. Those suffering from the illness had chronic, debilitating fatigue somewhat like mononucleosis, except that it would not go away.  Anne suffered from this, and her doctors told her that it was all in her mind. 

            For Anne, her illness was so bad that she had trouble getting the energy to feed herself.  She told me that just bringing a spoon to her mouth took tremendous energy. She was on the verge of committing suicide. She had no energy, couldn’t work, and everyone told her it was all a psychological problem. Then her friend, Betsy, made a suggestion. She was going to visit Medjugorie, and invited Anne to come along with her. Anne was resistant at first, especially because the thought of making the pilgrimage would require more energy than she had. In the end she realized that she had to do something, so she went along. It was there that she experienced God.

            One day, she climbed a small mountain outside of the town where a priest, who was known for healing prayers, was promising to pray for anyone who joined him. Anne said climbing that mountain felt like climbing Mt. Everest. When she got to the top, she received prayers from the priest. Often pilgrims to Medjugorje report having an interesting experience immediately prior a healing experience. They smell roses. This is considered to be a gift from the Virgin Mary, since the rose is a symbol of Mary. Anne smelled roses on that mountaintop. The day was windy, and any sprayed scent would have wafted away, but this smell was constant and it filled her nose and body. As the priest prayed, something like electricity went through Anne, and she felt tremendously loved by God.  She heard a voice saying something along the lines of “My grace is all you need. I will be with you no matter what.”  She told me that for three days it was difficult to talk with anyone because this feeling of God’s love and presence overwhelmed her so.

            This experience didn’t lead to an immediate healing, but it did lead to a sense that God was with her and that God would help her overcome her illness. In telling all of this, the youth group was mesmerized. They had many questions for Anne and Betsy.

            A few weeks after they spoke to our youth, I received an invitation to Betsy’s wedding. I didn’t know Betsy well, and normally wouldn’t have been invited, but I think it was Betsy’s way of thanking me for inviting them, two Roman Catholics, to a Presbyterian youth group to talk about experiences of healing with Mary.

            Betsy didn’t know that this invitation caused a bit of strife between Diane, my wife, and me. We were dating then, and the day of Betsy’s wedding was the same day as Diane’s best friend, Maria’s, wedding. Diane insisted that since I didn’t know Betsy that well, I should skip her wedding and only go to Maria’s. I told her that I thought I should really go to Betsy’s, but I didn’t know why. We agreed I’d go to Betsy’s wedding, and then come to Maria’s reception.

            So, I went to the wedding. At the reception, Betsy’s Mother, Jan, pulled me aside and said, “I really have to introduce you to Father Rick Byrne. He’s the priest who celebrated the wedding mass. He’s also the executive director of the spirituality program at Duquesne. You both have a lot in common. You should talk.”  With that, she left Rick and me alone. I had heard of the program Rick directed several years before when I was serving as a summer chaplain intern in a hospital in Washington, D.C. I had thought then that I wanted to study there, and possibly get a Ph.D. when I’m in my 40s or 50s. I wanted to wait till after any kids I had went to college. Rick and I talked a long tie about spirituality. It was great. Afterwards, we both agreed we should meet again and talk about me going to Duquesne to get my Ph.D. in spirituality now, rather than later. We exchanged cards promising to call each other. Neither one of us did.

            I kept thinking about the program, but couldn’t figure out how to find the time to do it. I was a full-time associate pastor with a life. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. A month later, I was at my health club, having just finished playing racquetball. As I was changing in the locker room, peeling off my sweaty shirt, I accidentally elbowed in the chest then man next to me. I stammered an apology, stepped back and looked at him and realized that it was Rick. I had never seen him there before, and he said that he didn’t get there much. Both of us realized this might be the Spirit trying to get us together for me to go to Duquesne. This time we did make an appointment. As a result, I ended up going to Duquesne and getting my Ph.D. 

            Those studies in spirituality changed my whole life and ministry. From them I figured out a whole different way of being a pastor and doing church, a way grounded in prayer and seeking God’s will. The program at Duquesne was one that Duquesne University was most known for worldwide. It attracted not only Roman Catholics, but Protestants. And the students came not only from the U.S., but from Australia, Europe, Africa, and Asia. We studied spirituality not only from a Christian perspective, including the mystics of Christian history, but from the perspective of other religions, the social sciences, philosophy, art, literature, and film. It was an amazing place that has not been duplicated elsewhere in both its depth and comprehensiveness. If Betsy hadn’t invited me to her wedding, who knows what would have happened (although I suspect God would have found another way for me to meet Rick or another person from the program).

            What going to that program at Duquesne meant for me was that it gave me insights on the spiritual life, rather than just the theological or religious. Our problem in the modern church is that so many outside of our churches proclaim that they are “spiritual but not religious,” and our answer is to train our pastors more in theology and religious studies. People are clamoring for a spiritual experience of God, and we give them theological speculation and religious beliefs. At Calvin Presbyterian Church, we try to be both spiritual AND religious, recognizing that being one or the other is limited. The program also gave me insights on how to sense God, hear God, and follow God. Finally, it gave me insights on how to create a church devoted to seeking and following God’s will

            From this experience, I’ve learned two major lessons. The first is that God has a purpose for all of us, and that God uses these coincidences to invite us to live out that purpose. This needs a bit of explanation. You’ve heard that God has a plan for everything?  I don’t agree. When we make plans, and plans don’t work out, things fall apart. Humans are way too free to ignore plans for God for God to have confidence that those plans won’t be dashed. So, if God has a plan for everything, it means either that God constantly lives with the disappointment of consistently broken plans, or that everything bad that happens to us is part of God’s plan, which means that God wills us to suffer, get addicted, get cancer, lose our jobs, get divorced, and more. 

            What I believe instead is that God has a purpose for us, rather than a plan. The difference is that a purpose is a way of living that can be adapted to any life context or situation. God has a purpose, a way God created us to live and be, and each event and experience—good or bad—is an opportunity God presents to us inviting us to live that purpose out. In other words, God created us with a purpose, which is to live according to God’s unique desire for us not matter what situation we face in life. And God calls us to take advantage of opportunities (such as my studying for a Ph.D. in spirituality) that allow our purposes to blossom together in God’s grace.

            The coincidence, the providence, of my meeting Father Rick said to me that part of my life purpose was to deepen my spiritual life, and to help others do so, too. Even if I had gone to Maria’s wedding, God would have presented me another opportunity to live out my purpose. God has a purpose for you, too, and God uses coincidences in all of our lives to give us opportunities to live out our purpose.

            A second lesson is simpler. God is always ready to offer us surprises, but we have to be ready to receive them. God stands around every corner of life, ready to surprise us with grace, love, and possibility. But we have a penchant for focusing so much on our plans, our goals, our passions, and our predilections that we often aren’t looking. But God doesn’t get discouraged. Instead, God keeps holding out these surprises for us, and once we start accepting them, we discover a life filled with surprise.

            The question for us, as we reflect on these coincidences, is whether we are truly open to living out God’s purposes for us, and whether we are ready to receive God’s surprises.

            Amen.