Introspection: Who Am I to Speak of Unity?

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.

Comments are always welcomed.

Who Am I to Speak of Unity?

Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose.

1 Corinthians 1:10 (NRSV)

Tell me, brother, what matters more to you?

Tell me, sister, what matters more to you?

From "What Matters More" by Derek Webb

In the First Century AD, St. Paul traveled throughout the Roman World, telling people about Jesus Christ and organizing communities of believers.  In other words, Paul was one of the first church planters.  He planted one of these communities in the city of Corinth, and, after he left Corinth, a man named Apollos arrived and began to shepherd the community.¹  For some reason, the Christians in Corinth began to divide themselves into factions based on which leader they followed.  Perhaps differing backgrounds caused Paul and Apollos to differ on some issues.²

Paul wrote the church in Corinth rather long letter in which he addressed the divisions within their community.  He urged them to "be in agreement" with each other and not divided.  He pointed out the pettiness of their divisions, writing,
Each of you says, "I belong to Paul," or "I belong to Apollos," or "I belong to [Peter]," or "I belong to Christ."  Has Christ been divided?  Was Paul crucified for you?  Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?³

I'm glad we don't have divisions like this in the Church today.

Oh, wait...

In 2011, Rob Bell, one of my favorite Christian thinkers, published a book in which he challenged conventional beliefs about heaven and hell.  Before this book was even released - actually, when the book had just been announced - another popular pastor and writer tweeted, "Farewell, Rob Bell."⁴  In other words, he was saying, "You are no longer one of us."  Controversy ensued, and words like heretic were thrown around.

This year, a number of pastors in my own denomination have called for a schism over the issue of gay marriage.⁵  Maybe Shane Claiborne was right when he joked that United Methodist Church is an oxymoron.⁶

Well, I'm glad that I've personally managed to rise above the human impulse to be divisive.

Or maybe not...

Not long ago, I had a rather tense encounter with a fellow Christian who is a great deal more conservative than I am.  I will not go into details about the conversation, but she indicated that she and her husband considered people in the Roman Catholic Church to be outside of their faith.  As someone who considers himself to be a more "progressive" Christian, I told her that I don't consider Catholics to be outside of my faith.  She replied, "You don't?  Well, we do."  Unable to think of a more condescending response in such a short time, I just said, "Apparently."

Have I mentioned that I'm not exactly the most humble and grace-filled Christian in the world?

Though I like to point the finger at the more conservative or fundamentalist Christians for judging and "otherizing" people who don't believe exactly like they do, I cannot deny that the more liberal or progressive Christians bear their own share of the blame for disunity in the Church.  Fundamentalists look at progressives and say, "You people are not true Christians!"  At the same time, progressives look at fundamentalists and say, "You people are nuts!"  Like other progressives, I sometimes find myself wanting to tell people, "Yes, I'm a Christian, but I'm not one of those Christians."

Though I try to remember that all people who earnestly seek to follow Jesus Christ are my brothers and sisters, I have to take ownership of my own divisiveness.  Though I don't go around trying to create fractures in the Church, I am divisive within my heart.  Though I like to think that I am inclusive, I have a tendency to mentally divide people into "us" and "them" - the people who think like I do versus the people who are wrong.

Again, have I mentioned that I'm not exactly the most humble and grace-filled Christian in the world?

Earlier this month, I attended the South Carolina Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church.  Cokesbury, the United Methodist bookseller, always sets up shop at Annual Conference, and I always take some time to browse.  This year, I found a book titled Calvin vs Wesley.  This book compares and contrasts the teachings of John Calvin and John Welsey, two influential Christian theologians from the past five hundred years.⁷  The title of the book is in itself divisive: it sounds as if Calvin and Wesley are about to enter the boxing ring to duke it out.  Furthermore, the book is published by Abingdon Press, the official publisher of the United Methodist Church: without a doubt, the author will be biased in favor of John Wesley who started the Methodist movement.

I bought the book for that very reason.  As a card-carrying United Methodist, I am a fan of John Wesley and his theology.  On the other hand, the more I learn about John Calvin's thought, the less I like.  What I find particularly disturbing about Calvinism is the idea that God has decided beforehand who will be saved and who will not.  God extends grace only to the "elect."  The elect cannot resist this grace, and the un-elect cannot obtain it.  You may have heard this idea described as predestination.  Wesley found such ideas abhorrent and taught that God wants all people to be redeemed and reconciled to God.  God extends grace to all people, but people are free to accept or reject this grace.⁸

Nowadays, Paul might write to the Church,
Each of you says, "I am a Calvinist," or "I am a Wesleyan," or "I am a Catholic," or "I am a Protestant," or simply "I am a Christian."  Has Christ been divided?  Was Wesley crucified for you?  Or were you baptized in the name of Calvin?
Divisiveness within the church today is as petty as it was in Paul's day.  Still, How can people with such divergent beliefs possibly consider themselves "one holy universal and apostolic Church"?

It has been done in the past.

One of the leaders in the early Methodist revival movement was a protege of John and Charles Wesley named George Whitefield.  Over time, Whitefield would prove to be a more effective preacher than John Wesley.  In fact, It was Whitefield who gave John Wesley the idea to start preaching outdoors.  After Wesley's own failed missionary efforts in Georgia, Whitefield himself traveled to the American Colonies.  He was influenced by the Calvinist Puritans, and he started to believe in predestination.  Inevitably he butted heads with the Wesley brothers over this issue.  The Methodist movement was split between those who agreed with Wesley and those with more Calvinist leanings like Whitefield.

Eventually, tempers cooled, and Whitefield and the Wesley brothers decided to agree to disagree over predestination and to put their differences behind them for the greater good.  George Whitefield became a traveling evangelist, while John Wesley focused on pastoring the Methodist communities.  Whitefield and the Wesley brothers remained faithful friends and allies until Whitefield's death in 1770.  At Whitefield's request, John Wesley delivered the sermon at Whitefield's funeral.⁹

Sometimes being in agreement means agreeing to disagree.

To the First-Century Christians in Corinth, Paul wrote, "I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth."¹⁰  Leaders in the Church do an important work, but it is important to remember that it is God who is at work through them - and sometimes in spite of them.  It could be said that Whitefield and Wesley were like Paul and Apollos: Whitefield sowed the seeds, Wesley did the watering, but it was God who made faith grow.

There are two teachers in my Sunday school class: myself and a man named Charles.  Charles and I do not agree on everything, but we are still friends and brothers in Christ.  I refuse to try to force myself to believe something I don't believe, nor do I expect Charles to try to do that.  In fact, I hope that the class has a richer experience because they have two teachers with two different points of view.  In my opinion, it is not a teacher's job to tell people what to believe but instead to help people to figure things out for themselves.

John Wesley once said,
Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike?  May we not be of one heart, though we are not of one opinion?  Without all doubt, we may.  Herein all the children of God may unite, notwithstanding these smaller differences.¹¹
The Church is made up of many different people with many different beliefs.  Despite our differences, we are called to work together for a greater cause, sharing God's love with a world that desperately needs it.

Notes:

1. See Acts 18-19.
2. Paul was a staunch Pharisee who experienced a radical conversion.  (See Acts 9:1-22.)  Apollos seems to have been a follower of John the Baptist.  (See Acts 18:24-28.)
3. 1 Corinthians 1:12-13
4. Click here for more details.
5. Click here for more details.
6. Shane Claiborne made this joke in his book Irresistible Revolution.
7. Don Thorsen.  Calvin vs Wesley: Bringing Belief in Line with Practice.  2013, Abingdon Press.
8. This is my understanding of Wesley and Calvin's views on predestination.  Please forgive me if I have built a Calvinist "straw man."
9. J.D. Walsh.  "Wesley Vs. Whitefield."  Christianity Today, 04/01/93.
10. 1 Corinthians 3:6 (NRSV)
11. This quote comes from one of John Wesley's sermons, "Catholic Spirit."

The photograph of the broken tree was taken by Ronald Carlson and is public domain.  The photographer is in no way affiliated with this blog.

Perspective: The View from the Gutter

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Clean Water for Tony's Dirty Thirty.

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.

Comments are always welcomed.

The View from the Gutter

All the Law has been fulfilled in a single statement: Love your neighbor as yourself.

Galatians 5:14 (CEB)

I have to wonder if I really want to know

The struggle and the pain that others feel

Do I want to hear the stories I see echoed in their eyes?

Or is this love I say that I'm reflecting even real?

From "Only You Can Save" by Chris Sligh

One day, a religious scholar asks Jesus, "Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"  Jesus responds with a question of His own, "What is written in the law?  What do you read there?"  The scholar replies, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself."  Jesus likes the religious scholar's response.  He says, "You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live."

(This story is giving me a strange sense of déjà vu.¹)

The religious scholar then asks, "And who is my neighbor?"

Jesus doesn't simply answer the scholar's question.  Instead, He tells a story.

A man is traveling on a dangerous road when he encounters some robbers who beat him, rob him, and leave him for dead at the side of the road.  A priest approaches and sees the injured man.  More concerned about religious matters than a fellow human's well-being, he crosses the street and continues on his way, unwilling to risk becoming ritually unclean.  Later on, another religious leader approaches and does the same.  Finally, a Samaritan approaches.  Unlike the first two, who leave the injured man at the side of the road to die, the Samaritan gives the injured man first aid, takes him to an inn to take care of him, and pays for the man's room and board.

Jesus asks the religious scholar who acted as a neighbor to the injured man.  Hesitant to say the word Samaritan, the scholar answers, "The one who showed him mercy."  Jesus then says, "Go and do likewise."²

Sometimes we treat Jesus' parables - and, for that matter, other Bible stories - like a Rorschach test.  In the same way we might discover things about ourselves in the images we see in random inkblots, we discover things about ourselves by seeing ourselves in the characters of the stories.  This parable seems to present us with a question and a challenge.  Are we more like the uncaring religious leaders, or are we more like the Good Samaritan?  How can we become more like the Good Samaritan?

I'm beginning to think that this might not be the best way to read this parable.

Let's take a look at the religious scholar's question, "Who is my neighbor?"  Essentially, he's asking, "Who specifically do I have to love?"  Let's face it, we all have people whom we don't want in our neighborhoods: we all have people with whom we don't want to associate.  Maybe we hate them - excuse me, "strongly dislike" them - because of their race, ethnicity, religious beliefs, political views, socioeconomic status, sexual orientation, or decisions in life.  Maybe they're individuals who hurt us in the past.

Maybe a better question to ask ourselves would be, "Who isn't my neighbor?"

So often we fail to realize how offensive Jesus' teachings really are.  This parable, which seems to us to be a mere object lesson in doing what is right, would have been deeply offensive to Jesus' original audience.  In Jesus' day, Jews and Samaritans did not get along with each other because of ethnic and religious reasons.  The Jewish people to whom Jesus was speaking would not have considered Samaritans to be their "neighbors."

Maybe we're actually not meant to see ourselves in any of the three people who saw the man dying at the side of the road.  Provided that we're not meant to see ourselves in the robbers or in the innkeeper, who are relatively minor characters, we're left with only one option.

Maybe this parable is meant to give us the view from the gutter.

Allow me to attempt to put this parable into perspective for us.

You're walking back to your car after running some errands.  Suddenly, a masked man emerges from an alley, and, before you can react, he pulls out a knife and stabs you in the abdomen.  You double over in pain, fall into the gutter at the side of the road, and curl up into the fetal position.  The masked man takes your wallet and your cell phone and then disappears into the alley from whence he came.  You are in so much pain you can barely move, and you're bleeding profusely.  You don't see anyone else around.  Without medical help, you will bleed to death.

A few minutes pass.  You see your favorite pastor passing by.  He looks down and says, "My goodness!  What happened to you?"  With some effort you gasp, "Help me!"  Your pastor says, "I'm so sorry.  I'd love to help you, but I have a very important clergy meeting I must attend.  I'll make sure to lift you up in prayer when I get there.  I hope you get the help you need.  God bless you."  He then walks away.

A few more minutes pass.  You see a leader in your church.  Again, you manage to squeak, "Help me!"  She looks down at you and says, "I'd love to help you but I'm leading a Bible study today, and I'm running late.  I'm so sorry."  She walks away.

What seems like an eternity passes.  You look up and see your next-door neighbor looking down at you.  Life in the neighborhood was so much better before such people moved in.  You two have never gotten along: you can't even remember having one civil conversation with this person.  Now you're dying in the gutter, and this "piece of work" is going to have the last laugh.  Your neighbor walks away.

A few minutes later, your neighbor returns, sits down beside you, rubs your shoulder, and says, "I just called 911.  An ambulance is on the way.  Just hang on!"  Your neighbor then reaches out and takes hold of your hand.

You lose consciousness.

You awaken in the intensive care unit of the hospital.  There are tubes in your nose and in your arm.  When your eyes focus, you see your neighbor sitting in a chair beside your hospital bed, watching you attentively.  When the doctor checks in on you, she tells you that though you lost a lot of blood, none of your vital organs were harmed.  She then tells you that your neighbor has remained at the hospital since arriving with you in the ambulance and that your neighbor gave two units of blood for your transfusion.³

The Parable of the Good Samaritan is so much more than a simple challenge to do the right thing.  This parable is a thought experiment intended to utterly destroy our us-versus-them view of the world.

If, in your hour of great need, you were abandoned by two of the people you admire the most and were then saved by one of the people you hate the most, how would your view of humanity change?

First, such an experience would cause a person to think twice about judging people.  If two people you once admired were content to let you die at the side of the road while someone you utterly despised saved your life, then your opinions about all three of these people were obviously dead wrong.  Such an experience would expose you as a poor judge of character who has absolutely no business judging anybody.  Such an experience would prove that you are utterly incapable to see into a person's heart, no matter how well you think you know people.

Second, an experience in the gutter would create in a person a sense of empathy.  Dr. Robin Dease, a pastor in my area, recently pointed out that the Samaritan had compassion on the injured man in the ditch because he knew what it is like to be in the ditch, figuratively speaking.⁴  Samaritans had been ostracized by their Jewish cousins for hundreds of years, so the Good Samaritan knew what it is like to be abandoned and knew how an abandoned person ought to be treated.  The word compassion literally means "co-suffering": to be compassionate is to enter into someone else's suffering.  We cannot truly be compassionate unless we are willing to imagine ourselves in someone else's shoes.

We are called by God to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.  Loving our neighbors as ourselves requires that we place ourselves into their shoes.  The Parable of the Good Samaritan is an invitation into the gutters of life to join the afflicted people of the world.  It is not meant to merely change our behavior, but it is meant, rather, to change our view of humanity in general.


Notes:

1. See my previous perspective "Priority One" which examines a parallel story.
2. The discussion between Jesus and the religious scholar, including the Parable of the Good Samaritan, can be found at Luke 10:25-37.  Quotations are taken from the NRSV.
3. I apologize for any medical inaccuracies in this story.
4. Dr. Robin Dease made this observation during a Bible study at the 2014 South Carolina Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church.

The photograph of the stained glass window was taken by Wikimedia Commons user Romary and is used under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.  The photographer is in no way affiliated with this blog.

Sermon: Now What?

Delivered at Monaghan United Methodist Church in Greenville, South Carolina on June 1, 2014, Ascension Sunday.

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.

Comments are always welcomed.

Now What?

So when [Jesus and the Disciples] had come together, they asked Him, "Lord, is this the time when You will restore the kingdom to Israel?"  He replied, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by His own authority.  But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be My witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."  When He had said this, as they were watching, He was lifted up, and a cloud took Him out of their sight.  While He was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them.  They said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw Him go into heaven."

Acts 1:6-11 (NRSV)

Give me a revelation

Show me what to do

'Cause I've been trying to find my way

I haven't got a clue

Tell me, should I stay here?

Or do I need to move?

Give me a revelation

I've got nothing without You

From "Revelation" by Third Day

After I accepted my first job as a computer programmer, I started returning to my alma mater every now and then to take long walks.  I found the beautifully cultivated grounds of the campus to be the perfect place to sort through my thoughts.  One Sunday evening, as I followed the walking paths around campus, I became aware of a feeling that I was lost – not lost on campus but lost in life.  Within the last few months, I had completed both of the life goals my parents had set for me: I had graduated from college with a bachelors degree and I had landed a full-time professional job.  I had accomplished everything for which I spent my whole life preparing.  My life's work was complete.  My thoughts and feelings that evening could be summarized by one question:

"Now what?"

Jesus and His disciples were gathered at the Mount of Olives, not far from Jerusalem.  The Disciples, still under the impression that Jesus was the great political leader who would defeat the Romans, asked if it was time for Him to restore autonomy to Israel.  Jesus told them that such matters were not their concern and then reminded them that they would soon be empowered by the Holy Spirit to take His message of hope throughout the world.  He suddenly began to rise from the ground and float into the sky, and then, as the Disciples were watching, He disappeared into the clouds.

For the Disciples, the last three years had been nothing short of an emotional roller coaster ride.  They had all been called away from their previous careers as fisherman, tax collectors, and militant political activists to become followers of the traveling teacher and healer known as Jesus of Nazareth.  For three years, they followed Him on His journeys.  They listened to Him proclaim the coming of the Kingdom of God, watched as He butted heads with the religious elite, and pondered His mysterious parables.  They watched with wonder as He healed the sick, befriended outcasts, worked miracles, and brought peace to the disturbed.  They began to think that maybe this Jesus was the Messiah, the long-awaited leader who would finally drive their oppressors out of the land and usher in an age of peace and prosperity.

The Disciples followed Jesus as He rode into the capital city of Jerusalem on a donkey to the joyous shouts of the crowds.  They watched Him throw the merchants out of the temple in protest of the corruption of the religious establishment.  Then, one fateful night, their hopes and dreams were shattered when Jesus surrendered to a violent mob.  Jesus was taken before the temple court and then to the Roman governor who sentenced Him to die by crucifixion.  He was mocked and beaten and then nailed to a cross.  He died in agony, and His body was sealed in a tomb.

Two days later, the Disciples received reports from several people that Jesus was alive and well.  Suddenly, Jesus appeared in their midst and said, "Peace be with you."  For forty more days, the Disciples continued to follow Him and learn from Him.  Their hope was restored.  Jesus was back, so everything could go back to the way it was before those horrific days in Jerusalem.  Not even a brutal execution could stop Jesus.  Surely the defeat of the Romans and the restoration of Israel to its former glory was at hand.

And then... all of a sudden... Jesus was gone.

I cannot help but think that, as the Disciples stared up at the clouds into which their Rabbi and Messiah had just vanished, they asked themselves, "Now what?"

It could be said that the Disciples had stepped into a liminal space.  A liminial space is a threshold, a transitional space not unlike the interlude between one act of a play and the next.  The Disciples could not rightfully be called "disciples" any longer; after all, the teacher they had been following was now gone.  They had graduated from discipleship, whether they were ready or not.  No longer were they called to be disciples – people who follow – but rather apostles – people who are sent out on a mission.  Jesus had called them to take His message of hope throughout Jerusalem into the surrounding regions of Judea and Samaria and ultimately to the very "ends of the earth."

But not yet.

Not long before this, when Jesus and the Disciples were gathered together for a meal, Jesus instructed the Disciples to remain in Jerusalem until a certain promise of God was fulfilled.  Something had to happen first before the Disciples could set out on their mission.  Jesus told them that they would be "baptized by the Holy Spirit" and that this baptism, whatever it was, would empower them to do what they had been called to do.¹  Until that time, they were to remain in the figurative doorway between discipleship and apostleship, waiting.

Like the men formerly known as "the Disciples," we all go through liminal spaces in our lives: we all go through times of transition and waiting.  Writer and professor Lauren Winner might refer to such a time as a "middle."  In her memoir Still: Notes on a Midfaith Crisis, she describes a "middle" as "the space, the years in between that which is no longer what came before and that which is not yet what will come later."  Though middles might feel like wastelands, they can be times of great creativity.  Middles might even be times of "winnowing" when the "wheat" of our lives is separated from the "chaff."²

These are the times in our lives when we find ourselves asking, "Now what?"

When I accepted my first job after graduation, I left a part of my life behind me and stepped into a liminal space – a middle – of my own which, over time, became a search for meaning.  No longer were the expectations of my parents the guiding force in my life.  Now, I had to discover meaning and purpose in life for myself.

While the Disciples were still staring at the clouds into which their Messiah had just disappeared, two men dressed in white – presumably angels – appeared and said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?  This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw Him go into heaven."  (Apparently, in their neck of the woods, it's an everyday occurrence to see a person levitating to the sky and disappearing into the clouds.)  When we step into times of transition and waiting, as the Disciples did when Jesus ascended, we might not know what to do with ourselves.  Standing around with our heads in the clouds is not an option, for there is still work that must be done.

In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis notes that people are often tempted to live either in the past through nostalgia or in the future through expectation or anxiety.  The truth of the matter is that the past is frozen in time while the future is ever in flux.  All we really have is the present moment, the only point in time that actually touches Eternity.  That said, we need only concern ourselves with the duties, trials, and graces of the present, as we commend both the past and the future into God's hands.  We only need to concern ourselves with the parts of the future that require our immediate preparation.³

Wherever you find yourself at the moment, I cannot tell you that better days are on the way, nor can I tell you that worse days lie ahead.  What I can tell you with relative certainty is that the next days are coming and that the next days will bring with them work that must be done.  I spent my first twenty-three years preparing for the rest of my life; now I spend time preparing for the weeks, days, or hours ahead of me.

The Disciples did not know what lay ahead of them, but they did know one thing: they knew that what once was twelve was now eleven.  They were down a man, because one of them literally sold Jesus out and then, realizing the disastrous consequences of his actions, gave up on himself.  For the Disciples, the duties of the present moment included the selection of a twelfth.  They discerned that the twelfth must have been a dedicated follower of Jesus from the very beginning of His ministry to the present day.  They narrowed their selection pool down to two candidates and then cast lots, praying that God's will would be done.  The lot fell on a man named Matthias, and he was chosen to become the twelfth apostle.⁴

The Disciples did one other thing while they waited for the promise of God to be fulfilled: they "constantly devot[ed] themselves to prayer."⁵  So often we think of prayer as asking God to do for us something that we cannot do for ourselves.  There is so much more to prayer than simply asking God to do our bidding "in Jesus' name."  Prayer opens us up to the presence of God and to the creative work that God is already doing in the world all around us.⁶  The Disciples knew that they were called to share Christ's message with the world, but they also knew that their time to do so had not yet come.  They had been instructed by Jesus to remain in Jerusalem until the coming of the Holy Spirit.  The Disciples didn't always fully understand the things Jesus said, so I would wager a guess that they didn't quite know what to expect in the days ahead.  They needed direction from God: they needed to be open to what God was doing.

Like the Disciples, I too sought direction from God.  Specifically, I sought a new direction that would guide me to the sense of purpose I did not find in my job.  The search drove me to try new things.  I became more involved in the Church.  I discovered the joy of writing.  Were it not for my searching, you would not be reading this.  Amid my search, there were even some times of persistent prayer.  In my search for meaning, I have found meaning in the search itself, and I have found meaning in the day-to-day work the search has brought into my life.

We might find ourselves in a liminal space following a change in circumstances; but we might also enter a liminal space after a personal failure.  Sometimes our question of what lies ahead of us is preceded by an admission of failure or defeat: "I blew it.  Now what?"  We stand in the doorway between downfall and whatever comes next, hoping and praying it includes a rebound of some sort.  We might even be tempted to give up on what we've started.  I think that, after Jesus' resurrection, the disciple Peter found himself in such a place.  While Jesus stood trial before the high priest, a fearful Peter denied that he even knew Jesus, just hours after he, in his bravado, proclaimed that he would die for Jesus.

One night, Peter made an announcement to the other Disciples.  He said, "I'm going fishing."  Nowadays, it's not uncommon for a person to go fishing simply to clear his head, but I wonder if maybe Peter was turning in his resignation as a disciple, having decided to return to his past life as a fisherman.  After a night of not catching fish, Peter and some of the other Disciples saw a man on the beach.  The man told them to try throwing out their net from the right side of the boat.  When they were unable to haul in the massive catch of fish, they immediately knew the man was Jesus.⁷  In the Bible, we read that, when Jesus first called Peter to leave behind his boat and his nets to "fish for people" as His disciple, He did so with a miraculous catch of fish.⁸  We also read that, when Peter was apparently tempted to give up on his calling, Jesus called Him back with the same miracle, saying, "Feed my sheep."

A liminal space might last for days, months, or even years.  Come September, it will have been seven years since I accepted my first job as a computer programmer.  Still, I have yet to decide whether to settle into my career as a programmer or to pursue an altogether different path.  The Disciples' liminal space between discipleship and apostleship lasted for a mere ten days.  On a day called Pentecost, something amazing happened that would change their lives forever, but that's a story for another day.

When we find ourselves stuck in the threshold between what was and what will be, unsure of what comes next, we must not keep our heads in the clouds.  Neither should we throw in the towel.  When you find yourself in this place, take a moment to remember the past, but don't forget that there is work to be done in the present.  Seek direction from God in prayer, and trust in God to guide you into the future.

Amen.


Notes:

1. Acts 1:4-5
2. Lauren Winner.  Still: Notes on a Midfaith Crisis.  2012, Harper One.  p. 60-62
3. C.S. Lewis.  The Screwtape Letters.  ch. 15
4. Acts 1:15-26
5. Acts 1:12-14 (NRSV)
6. Rob Bell.  NOOMA Open | 019.  2008, Zondervan/Flannel.
7. John 21
8. Luke 5:1-11

The photograph of my feet was taken by me at my alma mater.