Creation Care: A Modest Manifesto –

I’m in the mist of preparing to a preach a sermon this weekend about God’s lavish love as revealed in His provision through creations beautiful and abundant gifts.  I’m privileged to see these gifts often because of where I live.  Just today, on a bike ride to and from the grocery store, there was a light show in the sky, painting the already vibrant trees in ever changing of hues of light.  Nearly everywhere I looked, people were taking pictures of the sky and trees. Just a few snowflakes fell, and we could, all of us, see each others breath as we made our way through the city on foot and bike.  And, it seemed, we were all content.

Meanwhile, there’s a drought in Africa, and Dengue fever is on the rise in central America, more rapidly than ever.  It’s also true, undeniably, that there’s more carbon in the atmosphere than there’s ever been, and that we’re filling the air with carbon because of the way we burn energy.  Good scholarship, from people who aren’t getting rich on the subject, can be found here.  Rick Perry, and all his co-candidates can say “nobody knows why there’s more carbon in the air”, but that’s sort of like telling a drunk that his blood alcohol count needs further investigation because the link between the alcohol in his glass and the alcohol in his blood  hasn’t been proven.  Meanwhile, shorelines erode, floods destroy houses, crop yields decline, pests destroy forests, insurance rates rise as hurricane season begins earlier.  I could go on, but you get the picture.

It’s time to recover our ancient calling as priest of the Lord’s temple, which is the earth (see last Sunday’s sermon, or John Walton’s book).  When we do, we’ll realize that we have a calling, as the image bearers of God to reflect God’s love, care, and provision for all the creatures of the earth.  That’s what dominion means.  Sure, the church has failed to realize this during various times through history, confusing domination with God’s stewarding view of dominion.  I’ll talk a bit about our historic failures in a coming sermon,  but whatever – those failures are in the past.  I’m much more interested in the way forward.  How can we recover our calling as stewards, caring for the earth as those who are created in the image of God.  Many people have helped shaped my thinking here, so I claim nothing as my own.  But here are some values that I believe must be foundational for our daily living if we’re to care for the earth properly.

1. STEWARDSHIP – Say I buy the cheapest coffee.  That makes the most sense in a capitalist society, at least to many people.  After all, Adam Smith suggested that everyone, acting in their own self interest, will create markets that will increase the prosperity of the whole. Buying cheap encourages competition and productivity.  Adam would be proud. But when I do that, I encourage the destruction of rain forests (because by cutting them down, the grower can increase yields, and therefore profits – again a great self-interest move).   But these rain forests inhale carbon and exhale oxygen, which is a way of saying that all those trees are very, very good for our earth, and hence for all God’s creatures, and cutting them down ultimately harms us all.   A few more pennies, and I buy shade grown coffee, and that encourages people to grow a little less coffee, but spare the trees.  This is just one example of stewardship, but let’s extend it out to and ask each day: what can we do to care for our earth? There are endless little things:  Walk.  Turn the heat down.  Compost.  Buy local.  Take public transport.  Light a couple candles, and eat dinner with that light.  Skip TV sometimes and talk instead.  All this isn’t just good for the earth, it’s good for you, your relationships, good in every way.

2. JUSTICE- Say I buy the cheapest coffee.  That means that I buy beans that were purchased by a buyer who blew in and offered a ‘take it or leave it’ price, based on the price of commodities traders in America.  Because of competition, some of these pickers are the victims of terribly injustice, just so we can enjoy the cheapest possible coffee.  It’s time for this to stop.

That’s why there are people devoted to fair trade coffee, and other items as well.  They’re concerned that we who are already wealthy not enslave the growers and pickers by our inherent greed, and desire to save a few pennies.  After all, “doing justice”, is one of only three things that God asks of us.  Surely we can work at taking this seriously.

3. CONTENTMENT – Let’s say I don’t buy the cheapest coffee.  I buy fair trade, shade grown, organic.  WOW!  I might not be able to have as much coffee.  Do you know what that might mean?  My addiction will be revealed.  I’ll need to drink a bit less, and that might even mean I’ll need to sleep a bit more.  I’ll need to stop trying to be the Messiah, stop trying to do everything, be everything.  This has actually happened.  I’ve cut back on coffee, because I’m tired of living in overdrive.  My commitment to buying honest coffee that makes the world a better place means I buy less coffee anyway.  I sometimes want more than I consume, but I’m learning, in this simple area, some things about contentment.

This is a great lesson for me.  I don’t need a bigger TV, or an X Box.  I need friends, laughter, walks in the woods, genuine intimacy with my spouse and God, good conversations, prayer.  I need healthy food.  I need to give stuff away without fearing that I won’t have enough for my future.  I need to be creative, by writing, skiing, climbing, cooking.  I need laughter.  And here’s the newsflash, none of these things cost money.

We’ve been trying to fill the voids in our souls with stuff, and the real fact is we can’t afford to do that anymore.  Our credit cards can’t afford it; our landfills can’t afford it; our forests can’t afford it.  Let’s find contentment in what God has given us – because what God has given us is very good.

4. GENEROSITY - “Consumerism isn’t about giving and receiving; it’s about desiring and buying” (Mark Powley).  We are, many of us, a little too tight fisted, considering how wealthy many of us are.  What if, instead of 10% generosity, we tried 15 or 20?  What if we believed, so thoroughly, that God will take care of us like He promises, that we really do give, investing our resources of time and money by pouring them into others in order to be a blessing?

It’s Eugene Peterson who says, “giving is what we do best.  It is the air into which we were born. (Yet) some of us desperately try to hold on to ourselves.  We look so bedraggled and pathetic doing it, hanging on to the dead branch of a bank account for dear life, afraid to risk ourselves on the untried wings of giving.  We don’t think we can live generously because we have never tried.  But the sooner we start the better….” The sooner indeed, for every day living with a closed fist, either for greed or fear, is a day utterly squandered.

Of course its true that no single person will solve the mess of global warming.  We can sell our cars, turn off our heat, and eat only stuff that grows in our backyards.  China’s still building massive coal plants, and the freeways are still jammed with people driving alone.  My response?

We were never called to save the world.  We’re called to give witness to a different way of living – a way rooted in Christ.  As stewards of the earth, in Jesus name, we’re called to stewardship, justice, contentment, and generosity.  To the extent that we live into that – we’ll approach the abundance Jesus promised, and shine as lights of hope in the midst of the madness.

 

 

 

Be Still: Reflect Glory

It’s been the theme of the summer as I’ve been privileged to travel and teach:  “Turn and Behold”, derived from a favorite passage from II Corinthians 3:16-18, where we’re promised that transformation isn’t our responsibility, but rather a byproduct of our falling in love with Jesus, of learning to continually turn and behold the glory of the Lord.  He’ll be changing us, we’re told, “from glory to glory”.    This realization that God will be changing me simply because I’m in relationship with Him, making space to know Him, looking for His fingerprints in every aspect of life, is liberating.

Yesterday, though, I was reminded of another truth in this favorite passage, which is that the glory of God revealed through me isn’t innate, but reflected.  This is a theme that runs all through the Bible, all the way back to Genesis 1, where we discover that humankind’s calling is that of image bearer – that our glory is remarkably glorious because it reflects the image of Jehovah Elohim, the Lord God Almighty.

I’d spent Labor Day weekend celebrating the active life with family:  trail running on Friday, hiking on Saturday, climbing on Sunday.  Yesterday, with my wife and daughter heading back south to Seattle while I stay north to teach this week (if your in Bellingham, stop in and visit at the Firs) in the evenings, I completed my recreational home-run with a little ski touring below Table Top mountain (all these activities were carried out with the goal of a magazine article proposal about 4 different recreational activities in four days – “the generalist”).  I finished skiing just at sunset and on the drive out stopped at this little lake to take a picture.

Because the thermal winds were gone as the evening cooled, the lake was perfectly, utterly still.  Reflection?  Perfection.  I stood in awe, remembering that a) this was the picture on the cover of the catalog from Seattle Pacific University that arrived in the mail, summer of 76, and played a role in my deciding to attend there, though I’d never been north of Sacramento, CA in my life, b) attending there allowed me to meet the woman with whom I will celebrate 32 years of marriage this Thursday, c) while there I began attending a church called Bethany Community, little realizing that seeds were then being planted would germinate 17 years later by my becoming the Senior Pastor there.  Aside from the matchless beauty of this location, the memories wrapped in it make the spot from which I took this picture, a favorite location rivaled by no place on the planet.

Beyond all this, though, last nights moments at the lake reminded me of important principles regarding life with God.

1. Clarity requires stillness.  What’s so stunning about this photo is the clarity of the reflection, but the clarity, of course, is only proportional to the stillness of the water.  It’s rare to see this lake this clear, because on clear days warm winds ascend from the valley, and the sweep across the surface, marring the reflection.  “Be still and know that I am God” is what we’re told, and elsewhere we’re reminded that in “Quietness and trust” our strength shall reside.  There’s something about quieting our hearts that has value.  All the religions of the world know this, but the God of the Bible declares that this quieting is the means, not to emptiness, but to knowing God intimately.  Out of this intimacy comes our capacity to reflect   God’s character with clarity.

If this is true, then our capacity to be still, especially in order that we might experience intimacy with God, is perhaps of the one most important skills we could ever hope to learn.  It’s certainly more important than partying ‘til 3AM, or getting up early to run 10 miles.  It’s important enough that we’d do well to skip media at some point in the day so that we might encounter God directly.    Henri Nouwen offers good resources here.  I’ve written about it here.  But all the learning about stillness will amount to nothing if you fail to respond by turning away from the winds of activity, so that the waters of your soul will eventually become quiet enough to absorb what this glorious God is wanting to give you.

 2. Stillness requires practice.  One of the reasons people fail at stillness is that they try it for a day or two and get frustrated or discouraged.  Their mind wanders, they get bored, they don’t sense some magnificent, discernable change.  Discouragement comes easily, partly because we’re cursed with a lust for the measurable and the instant, and the benefits of stillness are neither of those.  Slowly, the waters still.  Slowly, we begin to display the character of Christ.  Even then, we’re not able to say “Wow!  Yesterday is was filled with rage, and prone to swearing in traffic, but today I woke up and all that was swept away.  Nine times out of ten, we don’t change that way.  I’m reminded that when Moses reflected the glory of God in Exodus 34, the Bible says that he didn’t even know his face was shining.

In light of these truths, let’s get on with it, and cultivate a taste for stillness, believing that God will use the space we provide to change us, slowly, in His time and way.

 3. Stillness requires openness to transformation.  This is often the crux of our resistance.  When I am still, the stuff that’s revealed at the bottom of the pool isn’t always pretty.  I see my lust, insecurity, mistrust of God that results in anxiety and greed – ouch!  The funny thing is that I don’t notice any of these things when my life is lived on the surface, with the winds of activities keeping me in constant motion from the caffeinated morning to the exhausted television numbing evening.It doesn’t matter whether the activities are about making millions, or saving millions – it’s the addiction to activity that’s the problem.  If I’m to be healed wholly, transformed utterly, I’ll need to see myself as I really am, and this will require stillness.

What’s not to love about this reflection?  It reminds why reflecting the glory of Christ is absolutely the greatest thing I can do with my life.  And if the means to that happening requires stillness of soul, then what am I waiting for?  What about you?  What are you waiting for?  How do you find stillness?  Or if you don’t, what are your barriers?

 

 

Be Still: Reflect Glory

It’s been the theme of the summer as I’ve been privileged to travel and teach:  “Turn and Behold”, derived from a favorite passage from II Corinthians 3:16-18, where we’re promised that transformation isn’t our responsibility, but rather a byproduct of our falling in love with Jesus, of learning to continually turn and behold the glory of the Lord.  He’ll be changing us, we’re told, “from glory to glory”.    This realization that God will be changing me simply because I’m in relationship with Him, making space to know Him, looking for His fingerprints in every aspect of life, is liberating.

Yesterday, though, I was reminded of another truth in this favorite passage, which is that the glory of God revealed through me isn’t innate, but reflected.  This is a theme that runs all through the Bible, all the way back to Genesis 1, where we discover that humankind’s calling is that of image bearer – that our glory is remarkably glorious because it reflects the image of Jehovah Elohim, the Lord God Almighty.

I’d spent Labor Day weekend celebrating the active life with family:  trail running on Friday, hiking on Saturday, climbing on Sunday.  Yesterday, with my wife and daughter heading back south to Seattle while I stay north to teach this week (if your in Bellingham, stop in and visit at the Firs) in the evenings, I completed my recreational home-run with a little ski touring below Table Top mountain (all these activities were carried out with the goal of a magazine article proposal about 4 different recreational activities in four days – “the generalist”).  I finished skiing just at sunset and on the drive out stopped at this little lake to take a picture.

Because the thermal winds were gone as the evening cooled, the lake was perfectly, utterly still.  Reflection?  Perfection.  I stood in awe, remembering that a) this was the picture on the cover of the catalog from Seattle Pacific University that arrived in the mail, summer of 76, and played a role in my deciding to attend there, though I’d never been north of Sacramento, CA in my life, b) attending there allowed me to meet the woman with whom I will celebrate 32 years of marriage this Thursday, c) while there I began attending a church called Bethany Community, little realizing that seeds were then being planted would germinate 17 years later by my becoming the Senior Pastor there.  Aside from the matchless beauty of this location, the memories wrapped in it make the spot from which I took this picture, a favorite location rivaled by no place on the planet.

Beyond all this, though, last nights moments at the lake reminded me of important principles regarding life with God.

1. Clarity requires stillness.  What’s so stunning about this photo is the clarity of the reflection, but the clarity, of course, is only proportional to the stillness of the water.  It’s rare to see this lake this clear, because on clear days warm winds ascend from the valley, and the sweep across the surface, marring the reflection.  “Be still and know that I am God” is what we’re told, and elsewhere we’re reminded that in “Quietness and trust” our strength shall reside.  There’s something about quieting our hearts that has value.  All the religions of the world know this, but the God of the Bible declares that this quieting is the means, not to emptiness, but to knowing God intimately.  Out of this intimacy comes our capacity to reflect   God’s character with clarity.

If this is true, then our capacity to be still, especially in order that we might experience intimacy with God, is perhaps of the one most important skills we could ever hope to learn.  It’s certainly more important than partying ‘til 3AM, or getting up early to run 10 miles.  It’s important enough that we’d do well to skip media at some point in the day so that we might encounter God directly.    Henri Nouwen offers good resources here.  I’ve written about it here.  But all the learning about stillness will amount to nothing if you fail to respond by turning away from the winds of activity, so that the waters of your soul will eventually become quiet enough to absorb what this glorious God is wanting to give you.

 2. Stillness requires practice.  One of the reasons people fail at stillness is that they try it for a day or two and get frustrated or discouraged.  Their mind wanders, they get bored, they don’t sense some magnificent, discernable change.  Discouragement comes easily, partly because we’re cursed with a lust for the measurable and the instant, and the benefits of stillness are neither of those.  Slowly, the waters still.  Slowly, we begin to display the character of Christ.  Even then, we’re not able to say “Wow!  Yesterday is was filled with rage, and prone to swearing in traffic, but today I woke up and all that was swept away.  Nine times out of ten, we don’t change that way.  I’m reminded that when Moses reflected the glory of God in Exodus 34, the Bible says that he didn’t even know his face was shining.

In light of these truths, let’s get on with it, and cultivate a taste for stillness, believing that God will use the space we provide to change us, slowly, in His time and way.

 3. Stillness requires openness to transformation.  This is often the crux of our resistance.  When I am still, the stuff that’s revealed at the bottom of the pool isn’t always pretty.  I see my lust, insecurity, mistrust of God that results in anxiety and greed – ouch!  The funny thing is that I don’t notice any of these things when my life is lived on the surface, with the winds of activities keeping me in constant motion from the caffeinated morning to the exhausted television numbing evening.It doesn’t matter whether the activities are about making millions, or saving millions – it’s the addiction to activity that’s the problem.  If I’m to be healed wholly, transformed utterly, I’ll need to see myself as I really am, and this will require stillness.

What’s not to love about this reflection?  It reminds why reflecting the glory of Christ is absolutely the greatest thing I can do with my life.  And if the means to that happening requires stillness of soul, then what am I waiting for?  What about you?  What are you waiting for?  How do you find stillness?  Or if you don’t, what are your barriers?

 

 

Storms, foundations, rebuilding….

The Wise man Built His House upon the Rock… 

It’s the end of a bad day and I’m driving to the writing cabin.  Stresses, demands, uncertainties, broken appointments, and hurtful words followed by icy withdrawal – all of these were wrapped up in a single sunny day.  A word that might describe my reaction to these trials:  pathetic.  I withdrew into self-pity, and wallowed in my pain.

Ironically, it was the day that I studying about how those who have a strong foundation in Christ can weather storms, while those with a weak foundation won’t, with the result that the whole edifice will wash away.  The words of have special meaning while I’m studying this week, because Irene’s been blowing up the east coast and she’s no metaphor.  She’ll reveal the quality of countless foundations, and no matter the beauty of the above ground structure, both humble and magnificent beach houses will be swept away if the foundation is sub-par.

As I drive to writing cabin this evening, I’m humbled by the realization that the words I preach are, on this day at least, more words than reality – easily swept away because the trials of the day have revealed an insufficient foundation.  I’m solid when I’m able to do the work I love and people respond positively.  When my stomach’s full, my joints don’t ache, and I’m loved by everyone I care about, then I’m a spiritual superstar.  But what about the other days?

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