Hope at a Trike-A-Thon

Yesterday was one of those days that years from now we will look back and ask, “Do you remember where you were when…”  The history of our lives are filled with those days.  Do you remember where you were when the Challenger exploded?  Do you remember where you were when you heard about the Oklahoma City Bombing? 9/11?  Sandy Hook?  And now, yet another – the Boston Marathon bombing.

It never ceases to amaze me how un-noteable the medium for which we learn life changing news.  Somehow it feels like the way we learn of such powerful moments in our nations history should be equally powerful, and yet isn’t.  I found out about Sandy Hook through a phone call at church.  Yesterday I learned about Boston through a story on my Facebook news feed.  An action that couldn’t seem more normal carried news that the world was tossed upside down.

There are no good words at a time like this.   There are no cute phrases or short sentences that can soothe the ache of a nation who is shocked by pain and unnecessary violence.  In years to come we will look back at this moment and still feel haunted by it’s memory and the impact it made in our world.  We will always remember where we were when.

But this is not the end of the story.  I read a beautiful article in the Huffington Post proclaiming how God has the last word in moments like this and that last word is love.  I was moved by the truth in that article, and I will be forever grateful for such a strong word of hope in a time of great uncertainty.

God’s love is what prevents this moment from being the end of the story.  There can be a hesitancy for us to want to avoid gathering together, celebrating the achievements of a our neighbors and friends when running a marathon, from gathering in historically significant places on historically significant days.  But that hesitancy is not the end of our story.  Instead, how we choose to move forward empowered by God’s love will lead our story on a path that we cannot imagine.

This upcoming Friday, my five-year old niece will be in a trike-a-thon to raise money for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital.  I can see her in my mind’s eye riding around the gym on her tricycle, her hair blowing behind her while her little legs peddle as hard as they can.  I don’t want her to be afraid of doing a good thing for someone because of an evil person evoking terror at another marathon at another place.  I want her to remember that her actions and choice to ride in that trike-a-thon are an example of how God’s love is greater than death, greater than illness, greater than people evoking terror in what should should be a safe and joyous occasion.  Most importantly, I want her to remember that she in her actions help to show that God’s love is real, it is constant, and it is something we can embody with every action that we take.

I will never forget where I was when I learned about the Boston Marathon bombing.  I just hope I never forget where I was when my niece tells me how she showed God’s love to sick children at a trike-a-thon when she herself was just a little girl.

Life Changes

“Do not be afraid, I am with you.  I have called you each by name.   Come and follow me, I will bring you home.  I love you and you are mine.” – David Haas, 1991, “You Are Mine”

This month has been filled with what feels like one-to-many life changing moments.

As I got off the phone tonight from yet another life-changing conversation, as I await more life changing moments that I know will be coming in five days, and then six days after that, and seven days after that, I can’t help but realize that it is in the transitions of life that we see where are our hearts really are.

My heart is one of vulnerability.  When my world becomes increasingly unstable, I become rather quickly insecure.  I hear accusations in short statements.  I feel pressure in supportive voices.  I find myself saying, “You’re not hearing me,” when really I want to say, “Look past my words and hear the vulnerability in my voice.  It is costing something to say these words, and I feel exposed.”

The irony is that I am most affected by life-changing moments that are not directly about me.  Last year at this very time I learned I had to take a drastic turn in my health care maintenance, the consequences of which I am still processing.  Yet somehow I feel more vulnerable now as I wait to get back phone calls of test results, doctors decrees and surgery dates for people I love than I ever did in those countless hours I spent in doctors waiting rooms focusing on myself.  Navigating the changes within my own body is far less terrifying for me than navigating the changes in the body of a person I love.   Their safety is to physically removed for me to feel comforted by a sense of control.

I keep on thinking about Mary and Martha at the tomb, having their life changed because of the change that had occurred to Jesus’ body.  Risen from the tomb, it was not where they expected him to be. His rising altered how they understood the current role of their relationship.  It was beyond their control and as such they could no longer care for him in a way that was familiar.  This life change made them very afraid and achingly vulnerable.

There is a deep and humble beauty that resonates in the fear of that empty tomb.  The beauty is that we as readers of Mark’s gospel who know what happens next can be reassured that things will work out for Mary and Martha.  Things have already worked out, even before they reached the tomb.  The fear they feel in not knowing why their relationship to Jesus changed  is secondary to the wondrous power of the action that altered their relationship forever.

With so many people I love in states of deep and powerful transition, I feel a bit like Mary and Martha.  I am afraid.  I am vulnerable.  I am feeling a bit too raw to change my “You’re not hearing me,” to “Hear the vulnerability I cannot yet say.”  As we wait for tests and pray that the next six weeks will bring strength and healthy cells, it can be easy to forget that things have already been worked out.   Salvation has already come.  Love already surrounds us.  We have already been given all the support we will ever need, as long as we are brave enough to look into the darkened tomb.

“Do not be afraid.  I am with you.”

A Different Kind of Bold

This Sunday is Bold Women’s Sunday.  On Sunday, February 24, the Women of the ELCA (WELCA) are encouraging people to celebrate bold women in their lives – women who boldly live, proclaim and embody the message of Christ in their lives.

I find it a bit ironic that Bold Women’s Day is the Sunday that marks the center of two weeks of internship interviews for myself and my heavily female populated class at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago.  In no less than four interviews this week, I stated with confidence and dare I say boldness my beliefs in God, my hopes for the church, and areas that I think I can grow to best embody my vocation as baptized believer in Christ.

It is also ironic that Bold Women’s Day comes a few days after a horrific terrorist attack in Hyderabad, India, the city where just a month ago I and 17 other students lived, breathed, and learned.  If you have ever been to India, or have ever met anyone who has been to India, you will know that you need to be bold.  Telling a US traveler headed to India to “be bold,” is the perfect word of encouragement to help overcome culture shock and embrace the beautiful, welcoming, challenging and non-western country for what it is.  Throughout my time there, the mantra of “be bold” rang over and over in my head, and as I keep updated on reports on the aftermath of the terrorist attack, I find myself praying, “Be bold, people of India, be bold.”

Being bold in Christ is very different than being be bold by normal social means.  Secularly, being bold means having courage, being confident, and trusting your instinct.  Being bold in Christ is very different.  It means forgiving the terrorist in the midst of seeking safety.  It means trusting that God has not forsaken you when the bank account continues to dwindle.  It means naming your insecurities about how you will be at as a pastoral intern.

I am continually being taught wisdom by my five year old niece.  She is one of the truest reflections of the embodiment of Christ I have ever known.

A few weeks ago, my niece came home from kindergarten and wanted to practice “Lock Down” with my parents.  In the wake of recent school shootings like Sandy Hook, her elementary school is taking safety very seriously and training kids how to best protect themselves in case the unthinkable becomes a reality.  They learn how to hide under tables and in closets, learning how to wait and not be duped by fake police officers.

My sweet niece didn’t just take her lesson and set it aside.  She boldly came home and taught her grandparents what she learned because she wanted them to be safe.  She had my parents take turns being the student and being the “bad guy.”  When my mom played the student, my niece took her under the table and boldly gave her directions on how to be safe.  “Okay, Grandma.  You need to stay very, very quiet.  You can’t say ‘move over, this is my space’ because you need to stay quiet to stay safe.”  After my mom’s turn of being trained was done, next it was time for my dad to learn “Lock Down.”

We can choose to look at my niece dragging my parents under the table to go into “Lock Down” as a symbol as how far our world has declined.  We can wallow in how sad it is that five-year old girls know the gun  drill so well they can teach a grown up.  I would rather focus on the boldness of that training session.  My niece – the one who eagerly waits to say grace, the one who can’t wait to go to Sunday School, the one who will tell you it’s okay to be sad on Good Friday because in three days Jesus will rise again – my niece is bold in her faith.  She loves to talk about Jesus.  She understands that Jesus asks us to treat others well.  She loves the world so much that she wanted to keep her grandparents safe.  She loves the world so much that she will boldly tell people she cares about how to be wise when evil knocks on her door.  My niece loves the world so much because she knows she is a beloved child of God.

Being bold doesn’t always mean doing the courageous thing or having confidence.  Being bold in Christ means protecting your neighbor.  It means looking at the realities of the world and coming up with a plan, even when that plan is basic safety and avoiding revenge.  Being bold in Christ means knowing that trouble is around the corner but living with confidence that God will not forsake you when it comes.

Today we celebrate the bold women in our lives, be they 5 years or 105 years old.  We celebrate women who are not afraid to embody the love of Christ in everything they do, even when it is teaching others the importance of “Lock Down.”

Internship Timing

 

The following article was written for Divinity Lutheran Church of Parma Heights, OH for the March 2013 Divinity Digest. 

This morning I and 33 of my fellow classmates signed up for internship interviews.  As candidates for ordination (i.e. pastors-in-training), the ELCA requires a three year Master of Divinity degree, a unit of Clinical Pastoral Education, a variety of training on healthy boundaries, and a year-long internship that has a strong congregational component.

While most of these specifications are common among all mainline Protestant traditions, the year-long internship is something that is somewhat unique to the ELCA.  Because of this internship year, our program lasts four years instead of three years like many other traditions. That is not to say those traditions don’t require field training and internships, but that training tends to be congruent with course work for a section of a year.  They balance internship with their student life.  The ELCA requires that our ordination candidates take an entire year and do nothing but full time, supervised ministry with a strong congregational component.

As I sat in the first of many internship prep meetings today, I began to fully realize how special it is that we students are given this opportunity of a year-long internship.  Ministry is not something that just happens overnight.  When we are baptized, we are all called and equipped to be ministers of God and to share the good news of Jesus Christ to others.  I don’t think that it’s any surprise that we are all called with different gifts to serve in different ways.  Yet we do seem to be surprised that ministry takes time.

It takes time to assemble a budget.  It takes time to learn a new setting in the hymnal.  It takes time to see if the best night for the youth board to meet is Tuesday evenings or to realize that perhaps a better night is Thursdays.  It takes time to accept that while we may prefer to teach we are better at fundraising.  It takes time to build relationships, to build momentum, or to learn a stranger’s sense of humor.  It takes awhile to embrace new leaders, or to encourage the tone deaf person to sing in the choir because singing brings them joy.  It takes longer still to accept that a ministry that once was vibrant now needs to end, or to celebrate that the community around our church walls is changing.

Ministry doesn’t happen overnight, and it is because of what happens over a longer period of time that the ELCA requires candidates for ordination to complete a year long internship.  The internship time is set aside from school books and tests because this year is special.  This year is sacred.  This is the year that ministry can begin to form deeper roots and be a part of a community that is changing as they grow in their ministry.

The internship year is more than just a requirement to become a pastor.  It is more than an opportunity to strengthen a set of skills.  It is an opportunity to understand the ministry and relationships that come over time, and to have an active role in them.  It is a time to see God in the world through a new set of eyes and to experience new ways of proclaiming the redeeming love of Christ.

I look forward to sharing with you where God is leading me, and give thanks for your continued love and support while I continue to grow.

Wishing you God’s peace and blessings,

Tina Heise, Seminarian

Church Girl

A few weeks ago my four-year-old niece was in town and was playing with my candle snuffer.  I have several large votive candles on the mantle of my fireplace, and have splattered wax more times than I would like to admit, hence the snuffer.  It very much resembles the candle extinguishers used on a church altars.  My niece was super excited to douse the candles, and kept giggling as she said, “I’m going to be a church girl! I’m going to be a church girl!”

My niece and nephew both love church, which is somewhat surprising because they are at church all the time.  Their mother is a music and youth director, their dad teaches music at a Catholic high school and I am in seminary training to become a pastor.  Between the three of us, they are in church more hours in one week then some people attend in a year.

Where I would think they would be bored of church by now they love it.  They were super excited to help light the candles on the fourth Sunday of Advent.  My niece was going to start the prayer with my sister finishing i.  Before the service she practiced and practiced, her soft child voice repeatedly saying “Blessed be God, Blessed be God.”  She was ready to take being a “church girl” to a whole new level.

But when the time came to speak into the microphone from the lectern, my niece panicked.  She tucked her face into my sisters neck, shying away from the assembly.  When she came back to the pew and my sister returned to direct the musicians, my niece crawled into my lap and began to cry. “I was too scared to be a church girl.  I’m so sad I didn’t do it!”

A few days later on Christmas morning, I stood upon the altar and sang the liturgy for the first time outside of worship class.  Like my niece, I was terrified.  It is hard to stand before a community of people and share your faith in a new way.  It can be intimidating to want to do it right, to make sure you don’t make a mistake, to try to remember the right words at the right time.

When we sat down at the dinner table that afternoon and my sister asked for me to lead grace, my niece said, “Can I pray?”  With her strong, brave voice, she started us off, “God is great, God is good…”  Throughout the meal she kept turning to her two-year old brother, the two of them saying to one another, “God is great.  God is good.”  “God is great. God is good.”

I don’t think my niece will ever know that she was more of a “church girl” at that dinner table then she ever would have been by speaking into a microphone in worship.  It is one thing to say words of faith at the right time in the right place, at the perfectly orchestrated section of a worship service.  It is something else to take the reigns and lead others in an intimate way, being so over joyed with the day that you cannot stop yourself from saying “God is great.  God is good.”

My little church girl knows what matters and the reason for the season, and is a teacher to me in more ways then she will ever know.

Awareness of the Season

This past December I caroled more than I remember caroling in a really long time.  First there was a Lessons and Carols event at my seminary.  Then a friend had a carol-sing-a-long at her house, where we lit sparklers while singing “Silent Night”.  The international students caroled in our courtyards sharing tunes from their home countries.  Finally I went caroling with the church that I work at, St. Luke’s Lutheran Church of Logan Square.

As I have become more involved in the church and my awareness of the church year has grown, I’ve noticed that Christmas has fallen to the back of my mind during the month of December.  The season of Advent is what reigns supreme.  I truly have come to love living in a season that celebrates Christ’s future return to the world, meaning more to me than any Christmas present.  But living so deeply in Advent has made me forget a bit about Christmas.  Add to it that there was no snow on the ground before the big day and my holiday decorations are back in Cleveland, without the carols this Christmas really could have slipped through my fingertips.

It has literally been since my childhood since I last caroled, and I had forgotten how this simple act serves as a beautiful demonstration of what Christmas is about.  We celebrate Christmas because there is no gift greater than Christ coming into the world, allowing us to experience God’s grace in an earthly way. It is because of Christmas we can share in the love and grace of God forever.

This year, as I caroled around the Logan Square neighborhood of Chicago, I shared the love of God.  Sometimes, people received that gift by singing along, like the little girl who kept singing “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle bells” no matter what tune or words were sung.  There was one family who received our gift by inviting us in their house around the piano, transforming our gift of chorus into an instrumental melody. There were others who couldn’t quite handle the gift, turning away from their window.  Their reaction reminded me that we each have a unique journey of faith that is on it’s own time table, and our job as Christians is to sing boldly to drawn curtains and darkened doorsteps.

Christmas comes so quickly and leaves even sooner.  As we enter into this new year, as we move well beyond Advent and wrapping paper, let us not forget to spread the Christmas message – that God loved us so much God came to live among us as human, dying on a cross for our salvation, and empowering us through a love that is beyond our understanding.

This was an article written for Divinity Lutheran Church of Parma Heights, Ohio, originally published in December of 2012 for the January 2013 edition of the “Divinity Digest.”

Sermon: “This Kingdom”

The following sermon was preached on Christ the King/Reign of God Sunday, November 25, 2012 at Divinity Lutheran Church of Parma Heights, OH.  The sermon was based on the text John 18:33 – 38.

“What does king mean to you?”

This was the question my preaching professor asked me when I went knocking on his door, asking for advice on how preach Christ the King Sunday.

I was surprised to learn Christ the King Sunday is sort of a new phenomenon.  Instead of focusing solely on a king-head figure, over the centuries Christians have celebrated the broader reign of God and set time aside in the year for celebration.  Lutherans and other Protestants historically celebrated the reign of God on Reformation Day, October 31.  In the Roman Catholic tradition, the last Sunday of October was designated Reign of God Sunday.

As time passed, the world became increasingly more secular.   Instead of being a primary lens for decision making, the reign of God and God’s intention for the world was a secondary lens to the growing strength of political systems throughout the western world.   In 1925, Pope Pius XI inaugurated a Sunday dedicated to Christ as King, emphasizing the authority of Christ was greater than any monarch or ruler.  When the ecumenical Common and Revised Common Lectionaries were formed in the following decades, “Christ the King, Reign of God” Sunday was incorporated to be the last day of the church year.

All of this history was floating around in my mind when my professor asked the pointed question, “What does king mean to you?”

Living as a US citizen in a post-modern world, the notion of a king may be a bit abstract.  There is not one reigning family line that has greatly affected our realities more than any other, with the exception of perhaps the Kennedy’s or maybe the Kardashian’s.  Watching the Royal Wedding of William and Kate could have filled us with a sense of awe, but our connection to such moments most strongly resembles seeing a fairy tale brought to life.

So what does king mean to us?

Just moments out of a tumultuous election season, there is no doubt that while we may not have a political king-head figure in our country, we are impacted by ruling orders that impact our world.  Elections force us to think about which reign influences our voting.  Is that authority taxes or money concerns?  Could it be healthcare?  Education?  Foreign Policy?

If we had to name it, what reign would we say dominates how we function in our nation?  Which authority is the ultimate ruler?

This is the hidden question Jesus faces while he stands on trial before Pilate.  When Pilate outwardly asks “Are you the king of the Jews?,”[1]  the question beneath the question was “If the Jews believe that you are their king, to which allegiance do they pledge?  Your authority, or the Roman authority?”

If we thought the presidential debates were heated this fall, they had nothing on this exchange before Pilate and Jesus.  The ultimate politician, Pilate asks a question that if answered directly would lead Jesus no option but to condemn himself.

If Jesus had answered, “Yes, I am the king of the Jews,” he would have been persecuted for trying to overpower the Roman reign.  If he answered, “No, I am not the king of the Jews,” the authority of his work would be destroyed.  Pilate asks a lose/lose question, one that will surely trap Jesus.

But Jesus is no stranger to the political game and responds to Pilate’s question with a question.  Jesus replies, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?”[2]  Jesus’ response not only flips the coin away from answering the question, he acknowledges that it is his own people that have sent him to trial.

Now Pilate is the one forced to acknowledge that he is in a lose/lose dilemma.  You can’t trap a man who recognizes the trap.  So Pilate responds, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?”

This is a watershed moment in the text.  When Pilate asks, “what have you done?” this trial turns from a crime against the state to a civil trial of people against each other.  Whatever wrongs Jesus’ people are accusing him of have no bearing on the authority of the Roman kingdom.

Jesus is not a threat to the empire.  He is a threat to the ruling authority that dictates the soul.

Jesus further tells Pilate that if the people were of his kingdom, he would not be facing trial.  He would not be facing persecution at the hands of the Roman Empire or the vengeful or fearful actions of any group of people.

We are ruled by countless authorities of this earthly kingdom which reign over the actions of our hearts and minds.  We are influenced by spiritual and emotional pressures of greed, loneliness, fear, and doubt.  We are influenced by worldly pressures of addiction, financial and healthy limitations, and social status.  We are born victims of a fallen humanity, living in a kingdom where our actions are at times as unjust as the ones that sent Jesus to trial before Pilate.

While such influences would separate us from Christ in our human world, under the reign of God our would-be limitations can serve as springboards to unite in Christ.

When Jesus died upon the cross, the limitations found in the authorities of this world were washed away.  Through his death and resurrection, we are no longer victims of a fallen humanity and are resurrected into God’s reign.

We are living in the midst of our salvation, set free from the barriers that would keep us from knowing and experiencing the grace of God.  By the waters of our baptism, we are granted citizenship into God’s reign.  Sealed with the cross of Christ, we have been given authority to help demonstrate God’s reign on earth.  Every time we gather at the table, we are given the nourishment to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, washing the feet of those around us, reminding ourselves that our worldly status has no bearing in this kingdom.

In this kingdom, under God’s reign, it does not matter if we vote red or vote blue.

This kingdom does not care if we have been greedy, thoughtless, or irresponsible with our resources.

It does not matter what our skin color is, what our sexual orientation is, what our marital status is, what our financial status is, whether we have a job or are unemployed, have had infidelities in our marriage or have always remained faithful.  We are still a part of this kingdom.

Being a member of God’s reign does not mean we are perfect people who will never make mistakes.  It does not mean that we should stop striving to follow the example of Christ in our everyday lives.  Being a citizen of this kingdom does mean that when we do make mistakes, when our actions reflect the human world more than God’s, we are forgiven.  We are still loved.  We are still citizens of a holy reign.

Our citizenship does not waver, our salvation is secure.  Nothing we say, think or do will stop our Triune God from reaching into the darkest places of our heart and soul and accept us just as we are.

Our citizenship is once and for always, the ultimate gift of love and faithfulness.

It is in celebration of this gift we uplift that Christ is King, and that the Reign of God has no boundaries.  It is in celebration of this gift that we do our best to operate under the authority of our true citizenship, standing strong against the temptations found in the human world.

Christ is king, and today we celebrate that the reign of God’s salvation knows no end.

Amen.

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[1] John 18:33

[2] John 18:34