Feeding the Deep Hunger

John 6:24-35

“I am the bread of life.  Whoever comes to me will never be hungry…”

This next week, I will be in Moshi, Tanzania for a summit between the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tanzania (ELCT).  We have been planning this summit for almost two years and I am excited that it is almost here (though I am not at all excited about the long plane trip!)  The purpose of the summit is to talk together about how we walk with one another in mission and ministry in the years ahead.   I think we have a lot to learn from the ELCT!  The Tanzanian Lutheran church is one of the fastest growing Lutheran bodies in the world.  They now have more members than the ELCA. 

I often get asked how congregations can get their church to grow.  Frequently, those asking the question are looking for some magic formula for attracting people to their congregation.  (There is none.) The assumption is that if they just institute the right program, or offer the right kind of music, or provide some service to lure people through the doors, or create the right ad campaign, the church will grow.  If we could just pull off a “loaves and fishes” miracle or even just put on a great pot luck, maybe the crowds would flock to us like they did to Jesus.  But, Jesus says pretty clearly that the crowds and their full bellies completely missed the point. Jesus tells the people something much deeper is going on than the signs he is performing.  

So what’s the Tanzanian’s secret?

There is no secret. In my visits with our brothers and sisters in Tanzania, I have observed that they simply have a passion for Jesus that they just can’t hold in.  They understand people’s spirit-deep hunger and offer them the nourishing food of God’s healing grace, love, compassion and forgiveness.  Their passion for Jesus and his Gospel animates their lives, their vibrant worship, and their infectious faith.   They invite.  They serve. They care.  They invite some more.  They gather around Word and Sacrament in the open country under the bushes and rough built structures and stone and concrete churches.  (The gathering place is really irrelevant).  They care for their neighbors in need, no matter who they are (Lutherans or Pentecostals or Muslims or Traditionalists). Oh, and did I say that they keep inviting people to “come and see” this Jesus who has changed their lives?  

Can we get that passionate about our faith?  About our Lord?  About the love and grace we know through him?  Through the power of the Holy Spirit, I think we can.  We need to.  Because there are people all around us who are hungry, starving really, with a spirit-deep hunger.  

Jesus is still the bread of life.  He invites us to come and eat.  To taste and be satisfied.  To drink and have our deepest thirsts slaked.  That doesn’t mean life will be easy or perfect (life in Tanzania can be pretty hard). But it does mean that we will never have to face those challenges alone, and that ultimately the power of God’s abundant, eternal life will win out even over death itself.  

Peace,

Bishop Mike

Please pray for safe travels for all of us who are making the trip to the summit in the next days, and for the Spirit to bless our conversations, help us discern what is good and true and guide us as we make decisions about stepping into the future God has prepared for our two church bodies.   Thanks for reading.

Ministries of Loaves and Fishes

John 6:1-21

“…But what are they among so many people?”  – John 6:9

Here in the Arkansas-Oklahoma Synod we like to say that we are a “small but scrappy synod.”  It is true, we are a small synod mostly made up of small congregations.  With just 53 congregations and ministries, we are the 4^thsmallest synod in the Evangelical Church in America.  Over 60% of our congregations have less than 50 baptized members.  All totaled, there about 7800 ELCA Lutherans in our synod.   We make up less than .01% of the population of the states where we live and serve. Small.  Yes.    Many would see that as a disadvantage.  I don’t. Though it is true that being small has its challenges.  But, time and again, God has proven very handy at using that which, by the world’s standards, doesn’t look like very much.   

God is particularly good at working with small.  God takes Abraham and Sarah and through them brings a blessing to the whole world.  God takes David, a young shepherd boy, from tending the flocks and makes him a great king.  God takes Amos, a simple tender of sycamore trees and sends him to speak truth to power.   Jesus takes twelve guys and a handful of women and changes an empire.  God doesn’t enter the world in a palace or in the form of the powerful and privileged.  God comes into the world as a baby born in a barn and redeems the world by dying as a condemned man on a cross.

I spend a lot of my time working with our smallest congregations.  Together, we talk about what God might do with exactly who they are.  We pray about how God, through the Holy Spirit, can take the five loaves and two fish they offer and do miracles with them.   Sure, they might not be able to do everything the mega-church down the block can do…  but they can still live out the Gospel and proclaim the love of God in word and deed with whatever gifts they have to offer.   And, they do.  I’ve seen our small congregations ministering to kids at a bus stop, making quilts for people in need, offering their community a place to gather for funerals and other events, serving a community meal, welcoming the homeless into their building, serving at the regional food bank, advocating for immigrants, and gathering weekly to praise and thank God around Word and Sacrament.   There is a lot of ministry going on in our scrappy little synod all the time!  Through these little communities of faith, God continues to multiply God’s grace over and over again, feeding thousands upon thousands with God’s love, mercy, compassion and forgiveness. 

I think the same is true of us as individuals.   We can feel very insignificant in the face of everything that is going on in the world. Powerless.  Small.  But, God has blessed each of us as God has blessed us and daily opens up opportunities to share whatever we have and whatever we are with those around us.  Andrew thought the boy who offered his lunch was pretty insignificant.  But he offered his lunch.  That’s what mattered.  And then, Jesus did wonders with it.   I believe Jesus can do the same with us today.

Peace,

Bishop Mike

As always, thanks for reading my weekly offering of words.  What loaves and fishes do you have to offer? 

Searching for the Deserted Place

Mark 6:30-34

“Come away to a deserted place…”   -Mark 6:31

I’ve had a busy month.  July started with the ELCA Youth Gathering in Houston.  30,000+ high school youth, their adult leaders and others gathered for worship, speakers, service, experiential learning and the opportunity to mix and mingle with people from across the country and around the world.  It was an amazing, uplifting experience!  I just finished a week orienting our newest bishops. Another great experience which reminded me again that God continues to lift up gifted and diverse leaders for God’s Church.  In just sixteen days, I’ll be going to Africa to participate in a three day summit between the ELCA and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tanzania (ELCT).  The ELCT is one of the fastest growing Lutheran churches on the planet.  We have a lot to learn from them!  In between all this, there is the usual round of meetings, activities, events, worship services, visits, phone calls, emails and conversations that is the daily fare of my ministry as the pastor and bishop of the Arkansas-Oklahoma Synod. 

“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves…” --Mark 6:31

A frantically paced life is not unusual these days.  I frequently meet people who are overwhelmed, or nearly overwhelmed with everything that is going on in their worlds.  I’m not exactly sure what ever happened to the “lazy, hazy days of summer”!  On my recent trip home from Chicago, I stopped at a “Rest Area” on the interstate and wondered at the busy-ness of the place!  Hurrying toward her car, a mother called her daughter from the playground,  “Come on! We need to get going!”   Keeping up with Facebook posts and other social media, the never-ending stream of news, the swirl of world events and the constant change can feel like we’ve been tossed into a raging river.   It seems that, often, every moment of our personal lives is filled with something: work, health concerns, bills to pay, family concerns, appointments to keep, friendships to tend, shopping to get done and on and on.

“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”  --Mark 6:31

Jesus’ invitation is a beautiful thought.  Isn’t it? To go out to a quiet place and just sit?  To escape the busy-ness, even for a minute or two?  Right.  It didn’t work for Jesus and his disciples either.  

I think the promise for us in this midst of this not-so-promising text comes in the very last line.  “As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them…”   Jesus doesn’t abandon us to our busy-ness.  He steps into the fray with compassion and love and life.   He walks with us, shepherding us and teaching us and healing us, even when we cannot see or feel it clearly in the blur of our lives.  It’s true, we may not always be able to find the deserted, lonely place in our lives, but we are never deserted and we are never alone. Never.  And that’s a promise we can rest in.  Even on our busiest days.

Peace,

Bishop Mike

Thanks for taking a few moments out of your busy lives to read this week’s “On the Way.”  

The Barricade Maze

Mark 6:1-13

“Shake off the dust that is on your feet…”  --Mark 6:11

It was late.  I was headed across Chicago to my hotel on the west side of the city when I came to a place marked with orange cones, flashing lights and barricades.   I turned right as the detour sign suggested.  The road split.  There was no sign so I had no idea which way to go.  I picked the right path and soon ran into another set of barricades, orange cones and flashing lights.  Cursing under my breath, I turned again and worked my way through a dimly lit neighborhood, guessing which way to go.   More cones.  I turned again and wound up right back where I started!  More grumbling.  This time around I took the left path.  Same result.  After running up against more barriers I wound up back at the beginning.  I thought I had fallen into the Twilight Zone.

In the course of his ministry, Jesus regularly ran into barriers that got in the way of his mission. In this week’s Gospel it is his own hometown crowd that can’t see past the boy they remembered running around the carpenter’s shop to believe in him.   He warns the disciples that they too would run into barriers as they continued Jesus’ work of calling people back to God and healing and freeing them from the demons that possessed them.  

Ministry is not always easy work.  (That’s an understatement.)  Barriers abound.  Sometimes those barriers come from the outside, but sometimes our own human foibles block our best intentions.  Within the life of the church, our biggest barriers often seem to be of our own making.  Fear, finances,  fatigue and fondness can keep us from stepping out in faith.   A sense of scarcity can shackle us and keep us from taking risks, and trying new things. Our fondness for the way things are can keep us from making necessary changes.  Grief and sadness over a perceived loss of the past can leave us with little energy to engage the present or step into an unknown future.  In the end, we can feel like I felt that night in Chicago: going round and round and always winding up back in the same place.

In his hometown, Jesus persevered and managed to heal a few sick people in spite of the barriers.  He suggested that, when barriers arose, the disciples should knock the dust from their rejected feet and carry on.  They did and returned to report all that they accomplished.   In the Gospel of John, Jesus promises that the Holy Spirit will help us work over, through, around and maybe even sometimes with the barriers that get in the way of ministry.  That promise is still ours today.

I managed to escape that barricade maze in Chicago on my third try.  Not sure exactly how.  Somewhere along the line I must have made a left instead of a right or maybe it was the other way around.   But, when I finally got back to the main street,  I breathed a huge sigh of relief and continued on my way.   That is, until a few blocks later when the next set of orange cones, flashing lights and barriers got in my way.

Peace,

Bishop Mike

Thanks for reading.  May the Spirit always guide you as you seek to do God’s work in the context of your life!  

Peace for Stormy Days

Mark 4:35-41

Jesus woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!”  --Mark 4:39

Last August, during the ELCA Rostered Ministers’ Gathering in Atlanta, I had the opportunity to visit the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library.  I was in high school when Carter was president.   Today, almost forty years later, I can see retirement looming on the distant horizon.  But, as I toured the museum, I came to the sobering realization that, even after all those years, we are still wrestling with many of the same issues, concerns and challenges we were facing then.  

On Tuesday, our synod “Building Bridges” group met to preview “I Am Not Your Negro,” a powerful film based on the writing of James Baldwin reflecting on the murders of Medgar Evers, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr.  When we finished watching the film, I had the same feeling I did at the Carter Library: sadly, not much has changed.  The film does a masterful job of connecting the civil rights movement in the middle of the 20^thcentury with what is currently going on in our nation.  Racism and the racist systems that support it are alive and well, even after more than fifty years of work and effort to address this evil in our land.  

This past week, the ongoing debates over immigration, the specific issue of family separation and the scenes of small children in detention centers surrounded by chain link fencing have swirled around us.  These issues are complex and elicit strong feelings across the spectrum of opinions on the subject.   As people of faith, I wonder, how can we respond to these issues based on the law of love?  (Romans 13:10)  I wonder, how can we work together --  Republicans, Democrats and Independents -- to address these complexities constructively and compassionately rather than just digging in and vilifying those who see things differently? 

Again, I see that not much has changed.  My own family fled Europe in the early 19^thcentury and immigrated to this country as stowaways.  People have been fleeing oppression and violence for millennia.  Welcoming the stranger and foreigner is one of the bedrock themes of the scriptures.  Perhaps the reason it comes up so frequently is that, even then, people weren’t as welcoming as they could or should be?

   

This week, I can really relate to the writer of Ecclesiastes who bemoans the fact that, despite our best efforts, things never seem to change.  There, the Teacher says,  “What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun.”  (1:9)  It’s a depressing thought.

All these things have been tossing around in my head as I have reflected on this week’s text.  As always, the storms still swirl and the waves crash and the wind howls all around us as we huddle in our little boats on an angry sea.  Like those who came before us, many wonder where God is in all this.  Is our Lord still asleep on the cushion?  Does Jesus even care that so many people are perishing?

But, Psalm 46 begins, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Therefore we will not fear…”  Toward the end of the Psalm it reads, “Be still, and know that I am God.”    In the midst of the stormy sea, Jesus rebukes the wind and says “Peace!  Be still!” and then says to the huddled disciples, “Are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?”  I think Jesus would say the same thing to us in the midst of the storms that always seem to swirl around our lives.

Resting in the peace which is Christ can sustain us in the midst of the storms.  But, resting in the peace of Christ does not mean putting our head in the sand.  It means putting our trust in the God who loves us and cares for us enough to become one of us, die for us and rise again on the third day.   It means doing our level best to love as Jesus loved, and to care like Jesus cared and to work for healing, reconciliation and peace any way we can in the midst of a world that is filled with brokenness and probably always will be.  It means re-anchoring ourselves in the faith which sustains us, and shapes us and guides us through listening prayer and the study of the scriptures, in worship, confession and forgiveness, and by walking with one another in the fellowship the Gospel -- even when we disagree.  

To love God, love one another and love our neighbor as ourselves is the mandate of the scriptures. That has not and never will change, because the love of God for us never changes.   In that promise, I find hope and comfort in the midst of issues and concerns and problems and challenges that never seem to go away.  In that promise, I find the will to continue, knowing that the strength to do so does not ever come from me…  but from the One who created and claimed me, through Jesus Christ my Lord.

Peace,

Bishop Mike   

Thank you for reading.

Doesn't Look Like Much

Mark 4:30-32

“It is like a mustard seed…”   --Mark 4:31

One of my favorite Dr. Seuss books is Horton Hears a Who.  Do you know the story?  Horton, an elephant with big elephant ears, can hear voices -- a whole civilization -- coming from a dust speck on a small flower.  No one else can hear it and they think he’s crazy. Horton convinces the Whovians on the dust speck to make noise so that they can be heard, but it doesn’t work. Finally, the smallest Who with the tiniest voice, climbs to the very top of the pile of shouting Who’s and this smallest of voices proves enough to break through and be heard.

The point is, of course, that even the smallest voice matters.  In fact, it can make all the difference.

Jesus uses a tiny mustard seed to make a similar point about the Reign of God.  He says this tiniest of seeds grows into a great bush capable of providing homes for the birds.  At first glance, the Reign of God may not look like much and many may not even be able to perceive it but, watch out!  Once it starts growing…!   

I’ve spent the last couple of days examining our congregational statistical reports for the past year.  It was a sobering exercise.  The decline in our congregations in the Arkansas-Oklahoma Synod continues, if a bit slowed.  We are a synod of small churches.  53% of our congregations have less than one hundred members.  Our small congregations struggle with the realities of their diminutive size every day.   It can seem pretty bleak sometimes!  But, most of the time, I see a different picture. I see a pile of mustard seeds with the potential to sprout.  I see evidence of the Reign of God.  I see the smallest of the Who’s adding their voices to the cacophony of the heavenly chorus of the faithful.

Around here, we like to say we are a “small scrappy synod.”   Even our smallest churches are doing God’s Gospel Work.  Not just caring for their small communities of faith gathered around Word and  Sacrament -- which they do -- but they are also engaged in the communities that surround them (or in the nearby communities for those out in the countryside).   They are mustard seeds sprouting.   They might not look like much, and maybe, by the world’s standards, they aren’t.  But in God’s eyes they are precious and full of possibilities for sharing God’s life and love with the world.

Jesus started his movement with a rag-tag band of guys and a handful of women.  They didn’t look like much.  But, empowered by his Spirit, they changed the world.  Mustard seeds of the Reign of God.  That same Spirit can use mustard seeds like us too – whether we are in a small church or a mega ministry --  to share God’s love and grace with those around us and with those far off.  That same Spirit can cause us to sprout and grow into great bushes capable of doing stunning work, sometimes in tiny, almost imperceptible ways, all in Jesus’ name.   

Sometimes it takes the smallest of voices to break through the din of the world!   I hope and pray that you are adding yours to the sound.  Who knows who might hear?

Peace,

Bishop Mike

PS:  The photo is of a small container of mustard seeds I’ve carried around with me for decades.  It reminds me of Jesus’ words on days I’m feeling kind of small and insignificant.  Thanks for reading.

He Did It! She Did It!

Genesis 3:8-15 / Mark 3:20-35

[The Lord God said,] “Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?”  --Genesis 3:11

The two children stood in the living room, guilt written all over their faces.  The potted plant, no longer potted, lay in a heap of soil and broken ceramic on the shag carpet.  A Nerf Frisbee lay a few feet away.  Their mother, hands on her hips, stared down at them, anger written on her face. “Who did this?”  She demanded.  The brother pointed at the sister.  “She did it!”  The sister pointed at the brother.  “HE did it!” Then, both in chorus, “It was the DOG!!!”

Sound familiar?  

Most of us probably remember not owning up to a mistake, or worse, trying to cast the blame on someone else at some point in our childhood.  This propensity for shirking responsibility appears to be written into the very fabric of our human nature. At least that’s what Genesis suggests.   Adam blames Eve.  Eve blames the snake.  But, God sees through it all and holds everyone responsible and everyone pays a price.

Unfortunately, our all too human tendency to cast blame and avoid responsibility has a bad habit of following us into adulthood.   A corollary to this tendency is our insatiable need to find cause (and any cause but ourselves) when things don’t go well in our lives.  We need to understand why things happen, find reasons, and find someone to blame in the midst of suffering, or tragedy or crisis or just plain bad luck.  (Of course, this tendency to search for the “why” of things has also led us to great scientific discoveries, advances in technology and medicine and a greater understanding of history and human society.)

In this week’s Gospel Lesson,  everyone seems to be trying to figure out why Jesus can do the things he is doing.  His family blames madness.  The scribes blame Satan.  The curious crowds credit Jesus’ unique authority and are so fascinated by it they won’t even let Jesus eat!   Even the disciples seem baffled by Jesus at times.

But we know.  Don’t we?  Or do we?  

As people of faith, we say we trust Jesus is the One who heals with the power of God’s Spirit.  We trust that Jesus is the One who embodies God’s love, and grace and forgiveness in flesh and blood for us and for the sake of the world.  We trust that Jesus is the One who was willing to take the blame, all the blame, and nail it to a cross.   But do we really LIVE like we trust these affirmations?

In Jesus, we find freedom from the guilt and shame we carry from all the broken pots we’ve left on the shag carpets in our lives.   But this is not a freedom FROM, it is a freedom FOR.   It gives us the ability to take the responsibility God has given us, look our shortcomings and mistakes and failures squarely in the eye and learn from them, and to live our lives, not by blaming others for the state of the world, but by partnering with others through the Holy Spirit to continue Jesus’ work of the healing of the world.

Peace,

Bishop Mike

I pray that we all learn to bring all our differences to the table and learn how to use them for the sake of the world!  Thanks, as always, for reading.  If you found this helpful, thought provoking, or mildly interesting, please feel free to pass it along.