Do You Want Wisdom? Live well, live wisely…

I’m in a class from the Inspire Movement called “The Skills of Spiritual Conversation”, and it has proven wonderful and helpful. A couple of weeks ago I wrote about something taught called “double listening”, where you are listening as deeply as you can to the person speaking, but also open to what God may be telling you at the same time. Sometimes it may be an affirmation, sometimes it might be a word of wisdom for the speaker…or for you! Yesterday we had class and there is a breakout room from the larger group, and I am with two other men — one in Ireland, one in England and me here in Central Texas. (Zoom can be a real pain, but it can be a real blessing, too.) One of the men said he had been reading the letter of James in the New Testament, and had been planning to barrel on through the rest of the short book, but felt himself continually brought up short.

“Read that again! Read that again” as he passed over a passage. If I’m right, it was in the third chapter, where the writer calls us all out who want to be well regarded.

Do you want to be counted wise, to build a reputation for wisdom? here’s what you do: Live well, live wisely, live humbly. It’s the way you live, not the way you talk, that counts. Mean spirited ambition isn’t wisdom. Boasting that you are wise isn’t wisdom. Twisting the truth to make yourselves sound wise isn’t wisdom. It’s the furthest thing from wisdom — it’s animal cunning, devilish conniving. Whenever you’re trying to look better than others or get the better of others, things fall apart and everyone ends up at the other’s throats. (James 3: 13-17 The Message

My friend kept going back to that passage and what comes next, kept going over and over it. As he kept reading the passage sunk into his heart, burrowing a place of healing. It is such a trap to want to be thought of as wise, to be thought of as smart, to be thought of as more than you are…especially when any good gifts we may have do not come from us. Here’s the next passage:

Real wisdom, God’s wisdom, begins with a holy life and is characterized by getting along with others. It is gentle and reasonable, overflowing with mercy and blessings, not hot one day and cold the next, not two-faced. You can develop a healthy, robust community that lives right with God and enjoy its results only if you do the hard work of getting along with each other, treating each other with dignity and honor. James 3: 17-18

As I heard my friend tell of going over and over this passage I thought of me barreling through readings to hit some kind of quota that no one knows but me, creating some kind of task to show how spiritual I am, some sort of phony bragging rights. Had he not shared, I wouldn’t have realized…

We learn discipleship in community. It’s easy to get along with others if you don’t see anyone, but in community it becomes the challenge. And we learn the commonalities as we share deeply of real issues.

Folks who have attended AA meetings for the first time often have a strong, emotional reaction. “This is what the church should be!” Well, the early church probably was closer to a small community sharing their lives, sharing their victories and losses and coming alongside each other to offer help.

What if we asked some questions to get into real spiritual discussions? For instance:

In questions of discipleship: what’s it like to live out your baptismal vows to accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves? What’s happened lately along those lines?

In recovery communities: Have you ever done a fifth step? Have you ever admitted to God, to yourself and to another human being the exact nature of your wrongs? How was that? (Unless you say “terrifying”, you’re probably not paying attention. I could be wrong there, but I don’t think so…)

We can learn to live well by learning to to have deep spiritual conversations with trusted people.

How do you want to live well? Do you want wisdom? Share your thoughts, if you’re interested….

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The Mercy of the Fallen

The photo today is something I took after Tropical Storm Imelda flooded our parsonage in 2019. Such events pull people together, and that’s part of what I’m writing about today.

I received a wonderful letter this week from a friend who has discovered he has a knack for prison ministry, for reaching the broken. He’s been broken himself, and had his share of troubles with addictions of various sorts. He said the Holy Spirit was moving among the inmates, and he was surprised that he felt more at home with the prisoners than he did when he was working in a local church. There are folks there who are broken, who are ready for another life than the one that got them there.

I have done some prison ministry, and I have been to a lot of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, and I understand what he means. There is a freedom in being broken and being willing to be healed. The catch for most of us is that we are unwilling to admit we are broken. Folks who have reached the “end of their rope” are blessed, in that they no longer have to keep up the pretense.

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.” Jesus, quoted in Matthew 5 in The Message as part of the Sermon on the Mount.

Most of us don’t admit we are lost, don’t admit we are broken until we are thoroughly exposed. Many of our sins are not so flagrant and public as alcohol or other types of drug abuse, or whatever it is that landed us in prison. We want to cling desperately to an image from Hell, and cover it up by pretending to be “nice.” Gossip is in the same group of sins as adultery, greed and others, and gossip is often a way of trying to feel better about ourselves by trashing someone else.

But with brokenness comes a chance at healing; in my last post I mentioned recognizing the wound. Robert, my friend who has done nursing care, wrote about the importance of checking hospital patients for sores, for wounds. When we recognize the wound we can begin the healing. What wounds do you think you might have?

I thought about the song, “Mercy of the Fallen” by Dar Williams. Dar is a tremendously thoughtful writer and activist, and some of her songs are among the most moving I know. This is the refrain of “Mercy of the Fallen”:

There’s the wind and the rain, and the mercy of the fallen

Who say they have no claim to know what’s right

There’s the weak and the strong

And the beds that have no answer

And that’s where I may rest my head tonight

In an interview she said she wrote this about the folks in the recovery communities.

Once you realize who you are, who you really are and the depths of greed you are capable of — all sin is greed, some say — you are in need of forgiveness, whether you realize it or not. And Jesus is right there, waiting for you, listening to hear when He calls your name. Those who have been there are ready to help; they can show you a way to get back up; they can show you the mercy of the fallen.

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Recognizing the Wound

In an AA meeting a number of us were talking about our drinking days and how we came to the realization we were powerless. As often happens, there was a lot of laughter in the room. Once you realize the absurdity of your thinking, of your faulty logic…well, it’s funny. One guy’s story was that he decided to give up drinking, just to show he had control, just to show he was on top of it. He worked in a bar/restaurant and during this time of self-discipline friends asked if they could buy him a drink.

He was quick to explain that he didn’t have drinks these days. Plus, he had told people he wasn’t drinking, so he didn’t want to be seen with a glass in his hand. But he had an alternative:

“You can buy me a shot!” This happened several times so he was able to still get drunk while, in his mind, keeping his self-discipline.

Another fellow told me once he hadn’t been drinking that day. He had about six beers, but he didn’t consider that drinking. Real drinking was something else…

Sometimes I think we’re mostly crazy, what the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous refers to “as self-will run riot” (page 62). Left to our own devices and reasonings, we’ll come up with the most absurd reasons to justify getting what we want.

Healing begins when we truly recognize the wound. Until we admit we are powerless over alcohol, that our lives have become unmanageable, we don’t take significant steps toward healing. At least that’s my personal and perceived experience.

And we don’t make moves toward real discipleship without recognizing our sin, and the depths of our sin, and our need of a Savior. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Proverbs 9:10. It’s a good idea to realize there is a God, and it is not you.

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Our Primary Purpose

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In the preamble for Alcoholics Anonymous, read at every meeting I’ve ever attended, we hear again that “our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety.” The preamble builds up to this by stating that AA neither endorses nor opposes any causes, is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization or institution…each meeting is self-sufficient — clear messages that nothing is to get in the way of staying sober and helping other alcoholics achieve sobriety. No one is particularly in charge – volunteers from within the rooms lead meetings and the newcomer is always the most important person in the room. Imagine facing your fears, your shame, and coming into a room either alone or perhaps with a friend, and folks immediately trying to put you at ease, telling you they know what you’re going through, and there’s a way out. Maybe you distrust them, but maybe you are listening with just a shred of hope.

In a previous post I wrote about “double listening”, listening to someone and also listening for the voice of God, verifying or maybe the opposite, learning to listen for and learning to recognize truth. Sometimes the truth is facing the reality.

In most meetings if a newcomer arrives the topic switches to the first step: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol — that our lives had become unmanageable. That’s a reality that has to be faced if true recovery is going to take place. Folks then begin to share about what brought them into the rooms for the first time — family, conscience, circumstances or courts. The honesty is overwhelming; perhaps it’s because there are no last names used; perhaps it is the truth that Jesus said would set us free. (John 8:32) Once you admit certain things, the secrets have less hold over you.

The newcomer is encouraged to find a sponsor, to get some names and numbers of folks to call and to begin to work the 12 steps of recovery — and told to “keep coming back!” Every meeting I’ve attended in Texas has ended with the Lord’s Prayer.

There’s a freedom in purpose. Further, there is a freedom in brokenness, in acknowledging your need for help.

From what I understand, the early church meetings were closer to this. “Salvation” is rooted in the same word for “healing”.

I love the Church, and I am privileged to still be a pastor. What would you say is the primary purpose of the Church? How do we go about fulfilling it? I think these are interesting questions, and we’ll look at them as we go along. Kind and thoughtful comments and discussions are welcome. We can share our “experience, strength and hope.”

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Hearing the Voice of God

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I joined Alcoholics Anonymous a little over 33 years ago, deciding I needed to make a change. It wasn’t my first time to AA by any means; I had grown up occasionally attending the smoky rooms in Pasadena with or for my mother. My drinking was getting out of hand, and I had a few more stories than were funny, and it was time.

I thought about this today after being in a Zoom class as part of the Inspire School of Discipleship. The Inspire Movement is based around missional discipleship — becoming a missionary in your own life, amongst your family, your work, your neighborhood, maybe even your church! Today’s class, populated by folks in England, Scotland, Ireland, somewhere in the Ukraine and several places in the USA, focused on “double listening”. Listen to what is being said, but also listen for the voice of God.

Have you ever heard the voice of God? What was it like? A loud, booming thunder or the still small voice that made you want to wrap your coat closer? (I Kings 19:13)

Some folks described what it was like for them — one woman said it was like a quiet urge that got progressively stronger until she had to act. Going to AA was like that for me — I grew up in an alcoholic home and didn’t want to reproduce that in my family, but didn’t want to admit the “weakness” of the addiction, didn’t want to admit I couldn’t “handle it”, as folks said when I was growing up.

But the still, small voice strengthened, and eventually I went to a noon meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous at the Bellaire Club in Houston. I met an older man there who introduced himself and Jesse offered me his work-hardened hand. I took it. And when that voice would not stop I gave in. I said, “Hi, I’m Frank and I’m an alcoholic.” Jesse became my temporary sponsor — I had a bit of trouble with commitments! — and then my permanent sponsor until his death many years later.

In posts to come we’ll wrestle with the role of recovery in discipleship, the relatively clear path of the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous contrasting with the often confusing line of membership versus discipleship in churches. Maybe this is interesting to some of you; it is to me.

I’ve got a lot to learn about many things, and one of them is blogs. I’d welcome any serious and kind discussion on this one.

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The Unforced Rhythms of Grace

I’m drawn to folks with a strong sense of purpose. Many of the folks I admire are dedicated to their craft, their work, their art. I have been a dabbler all my life, and I’ve got a lot of hobbies but don’t know that I am totally dedicated to any one thing..except Jesus. I can imagine not playing the guitar anymore, though with a great deal of loss, or one of the other instruments I dabble with, but I don’t see life without seeking the Lord.

Luckily, I don’t have to do anything like that. But it doesn’t mean I don’t struggle, don’t worry about being enough, doing enough, being the person I think God wants me to be. I’m alcoholic, and at this writing I’ve been sober for a little more than 33 years. What I’ve learned through the program of Alcoholics Anonymous is a straightforward way of seeking God — no pretense, no BS, but a sheer look up from the floor and crying for help. I’ve been a pastor for nearly 18 years, and a churchman for most of my life, and I’ve seen more honest cries for help more regularly in recovery rooms than anywhere else.

There’s a gift in losing all you have, and finding out what you held on to was worthless. Living a life in truth — “practicing these principles in all our affairs” — leads to the abundant life Jesus talks about in John’s Gospel, or so it seems to me.

Here’s a couple of verses I’ve been thinking about in the last few weeks, and I took the blog title from the second one. Both of these quotes are from Eugene Peterson’s The Message:

I have been crucified with Christ. My ego is no longer central. It is no longer important that I appear righteous before you and have your good opinion, and I am no longer driven to impress God. Christ lives in me. The life you see me living is not “mine”, but it is lived by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I am not going to go back on that. Galatians 2:20

This notion of dying to self, and putting it in these terms that “my ego is no longer central” is so eye-opening, isn’t it? I am not going to be so preoccupied with what you are thinking of me, or if you are thinking of me, and I’m not going to keep trying to prove myself to God. I don’t have to — God loves me, and I don’t have to keep trying to prove that to myself or others.

Here’s the second quote, this one from Matthew 11:

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me — watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly. Matthew 11: 26-30.

I’ve got a lot to learn about writing a blog, and I’ll include some sermons in this as well and perhaps a podcast, but it’s good for all of us to remember that God loves us, and we don’t have to prove it to ourselves, to others, or to God.

We are invited to live into it. Maybe you’d like to walk with me on this journey.

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