Gates and Thresholds

Doorway in Beijing, photo by Susan Baller-ShepardGates and Thresholds


Based on Psalm 23 & John 10:1-10
God of Grace and Glory,
Attune our ears to what You would say to us today.
We seek to follow You.
We seek to live in accordance with Your will.
God of Grace and God of Glory,
We trust You with our lives.  Amen.

In April of 2010, I returned to China, went to Beijing, with a group called “Global Leaders for Orphans Initiative” to volunteer in orphanages and meet with Beijing organizations that improve the lives of orphans.
What struck me right away about the temples in Beijing, were the thresholds. To get into many of the temples, you had to step over a big threshold that had an eight-inch wall to them, so you literally are stepping into the temple.
I love this image, that we step into something, step away from something, when we enter a temple.
As followers of Christ, it’s something to consider:
What we are stepping into, and what we are stepping away from.
I often think of the lines from “Relient K”
“When I made up my mind,
And my heart along with that, To live not for myself
But yet for God, somebody said
Do you know what you are getting yourself into?”

Do we know what we are getting ourselves into?

I feel like having been to China again, then in October of this year, I went to Haiti, to the epicenter of the 2010 earthquake, to help with reconstruction of the teacher training center with the Peter Hesse Foundation, and to see and learn more about the Presbyterian Disaster Assistane projects, and yesterday I delivered a keynote speech at Lincoln Correctional Center to about 300 inmates.
I know you to be good and caring people.
You are people of your word, people of The Word,
and the world out there needs You more than ever, needs the good news you have to share, needs to see and share in the God-given light that blazes in your hearts. And I’m talking to YOU today.
There’s a slang expression right now, “he’s such a tool,”
Meaning a person is being used, and doesn’t know it,

it has negative connotations, although any teenager might correct me on my usage, might inform me I’m using it incorrectly, but for today, I’m going with that definition
I had asked my friends to pray that my words would be hopeful and helpful to the women at Lincoln yesterday. I had prayed hard about the speech.
On the drive over to Lincoln, I prayed, “How can these stories about China have anything to do with these women?”
Then the answer came, special needs girls in Chinese orphanages, are seen as “trash,” as one Chinese woman told me, “something expendible, that should be thrown away.” They are often warehoused in large Social Welfare Institutes. In the large facilities, they are not known by their name, but by their number. Likewise, women in prison are told by society they are worthless, they are often warehoused in large facilities, Lincoln has over 1,000 women. They are known by their name always attached to their number, like: Jane DoeR-32987689.
Back to being a tool….
After the speeches were over, given by inmates and me, the guards were taking women back by “houses,” and one woman pulled me aside, we only
Had a few minutes before her house would be out the door.
She told me what landed her in prison, a tragic story.
My cognitive brain was reeling from the story she had just told me, the
Ramifications of it on her life, but another part of me looked her deep in the eyes, knowing our time of talking was short, and said,
“Unhook yourself from this. If you are to survive when you get out,
you have to unhook yourself from this.”
These did not feel like my words. They didn’t even fully make sense to me.
Teary-eyed, she said, “That’s what I needed to hear. That’s what I’ve been needing to hear.”
We talked a bit more before it was her time, and my time, to leave.
I felt like a tool, in the best sense of the word.
These words were words of grace and forgiveness, which, I gotta say,
were not my words.
My brain was still, and is still, wrestling with what she told me.
I think of what Jesus says in Matthew 5 about crimes we commit, when we think we are 100% innocent.
Friends, these women have committed crimes, they are doing time, most of them are mothers, and they are children of God seeking words of life.
The kids in the orphanages in China, the children seeking education and food in Haiti, the homeless people at Safe Harbor desiring a hot meal?
These are people I’ve met, I challenge YOU to step over
the threshold and through the gate to places in the world that YOU
feel called to…places and people where YOU feel called to share the
light you’ve been given in this life.
If there is no such place for you, then a litmus test for you is what news stories move you, make your heart ache a bit?
The Shepherd does not want one sheep lost—
Not one.
The world is great at un-doing us, telling us who we are not,
What we are not, and how we do not measure up–
But the world’s voice is not the voice we trust, nor
The voice that tells us who we are, whose we are—
The world’s voice is not the overseer of our souls
“For you were going astray like sheep,”
I Peter 2 says, “but now you have returned to the shepherd
and guardian of your souls. (1 Peter 2:25)
Do we know what we are getting ourselves into?

Here’s some of what we’re getting into: Jesus in our passage today tells us two “I am” statements,
He says, “I am the gate” or “I am the door” depending on translation
And he says, “I am the good shepherd.”
In his life he makes other “I am” statements…
I am the light of the world
I am the vine
I am the bread of life
I am the way, the truth, and the life
I am thirsty…
I am the resurrection and the life
Our John text has mixed metaphors,
So even though my son’s best friend raises sheep and even named his first sheep, after our daughter,
she was a loud bawling creature, the sheep I mean,
our daughter? Loud and loving.
Jesus is seen as a Shepherd and as a door—
in the readings for today, There is a lot of coming and going, Through new doors and over new thresholds.
Think about the most memorable door you’ve walked through?
As a child, I was enamored with the game “Mystery Date,”
The game had a door with a big question mark on it. I loved that game, it captured my imagination. A door with a big question mark.
Life can have that “Mystery Date” game feel sometimes,
we all have doors in our lives with the big giant question marks on them…
Doors where we wonder, “What am I getting myself into?”


We don’t know what doors we are going to open in our lifetimes
Some doors we choose to walk through, like choosing to step over a tall threshold into a Chinese temple.
But some doors in our lives we wish we’d never laid eyes on,
doors we wished we’d never opened. You know them.
Doors to say hello to someone, to meet someone–
Meeting your children or grandchildren, nieces/nephews for the first time
Doors to say good-bye to someone for the last time.
We all have lived such stories firsthand, we have
Narratives about the doors in our lives,
where they have taken us.
If you are truly heartbroken, walk through the door of someone more heartbroken than you–
you will find solace, you will find you are not alone.
A shepherd would block the opening of the sheepfold with his body to keep the sheep safe, he would be the door or gate
Friends, this is news we have to live…that the Shepherd
Is the Lord of our lives, and is a God of love, and the
world out there, wants this good news like it thirsts for water
Jesus says, “Truly, truly I say to you, ‘I am the door of the sheep….I am the door. If anyone enters by me, that one will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture….I came that they may have life and have it abundantly….”
On A & E, the television show “Intervention” “profiles people whose dependence on drugs and alcohol or other compulsive behavior has brought them to a point of personal crisis” and families or loved ones host an intervention to get them to stop using whatever drug of choice they are using.
The first half hour shows the person’s life in the midst of their addiction, and you find yourself begging, along with the loved ones, begging the person
not to go to the house of the drug dealer,
not go through the door to the meth lab,
not to cross the threshold of the corner bar.
They don’t know what they are getting into. It’s painful, agonizing to watch. At the intervention, the person must choose which door they’ll take. The door to life, through rehab, or will they choose the door the thieves offer, that steals, kills, destroys?
Think about the doors in your life, the thresholds you have crossed over, that have lead to pain and lessening of life?
What are those in your life?
The things that lead you away from the door of life?
That steal your energy, rob you of your peace?
Destroy something of who you are, who you are created to be?
Maybe they’re virtual doors:
*stress *chasing after prestige or accolades *unhealthy relationships
*addictions to food, spending, gambling, sex, alcohol, drugs
*reliance on our own power or control
*gossiping *wanting security above all else
We all have doors we walk through, knowing full well walking through that door cheapens our life,
makes us less-than, makes life-less-than God would have intended for us.
We hear ancient words God whispers to us (Ezekiel 34:11-12)
I myself will search
for my sheep, and will seek them out. As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness.
As for Psalm 23: an old familiar friend of a Psalm chockful of
action verbs:
Want, lie down, leads, restores, walk,
fear, comfort, prepare, anoint, overflows, follow, dwell
Psalm 23 ends, “and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever….”


The house of the Lord forever

yielding to this goodness and mercy, surrendering to this steadfast love, means we will turn to or return to, cross over the threshold back into

In some places, churches would paint their doors red
to signify that the building is a sanctuary and is holy, and anyone who goes through the door is safe from physical and spiritual harm.
In ancient times, no one could pursue an enemy past red doors into a church and certainly no one could be harmed or captured inside of a church. The red door would remind people they are always safe in God’s care. Does your church remind people of this? Is it ‘sanctuary’ in the best sense of the word?
Jesus says, “I am the door.” And if Jesus says to us, “I am the door,” isn’t it interesting how we sometimes have a view of who gets in and who does not get in that door?
Are you willing to follow where the Good Shepherd leads you? To go across the threshold and through the door to where it is God would have you go?
Do you know what you are getting yourself into?
Here’s the thing:
We don’t know when we might be called,
When we might become a tool in God’s hands,
We have to let go of that timing thing…
which I say to myself as much as to you…we have to let go.
And, we have to step out of our comfortable corral,
Out of our comfort zone. It will undoubtedly be messy, in some way.
Jesus touched and hung out with lepers, prostitutes, the outcast, and we are called to follow
Stepping across the threshold of faith, and into the arms of God, into life with God as your Guardian, your Overseer—
This my friends, this is what we are
getting into.
God,
we ask You to guide us through the doors where You would have us walk,
help us regain our footing on the path you’d have us walk.
For You are the door to abundance,
You are the door to eternal life.
To You be all Glory Honor and Praise!
Hallelujah! Amen.

Unfinished Business: Dr. King’s Dream & What Remains Undone

interior of Sagrada Familia © Pepe Navarro/TSF

interior of Sagrada Familia © Pepe Navarro/TSF

“Man’s inhumanity to man is not only perpetrated by the vitriolic actions of those who are bad. It is also perpetrated by the vitiating inaction of those who are good.”—

Martin Luther King Jr.

This week, I was reminded, I don’t know how to convey the largesse of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s spirit to my kids. I try. Since they were little, I played a copy of Dr. King’s “I have a dream” speech on his birthday, had my children listen, as they wanted to anything but sit and listen to a speech on their day off. Plus, this was a speech by someone who had been dead nearly as long as their mother had been alive, a speech delivered months after their mother was born.
“Why?” I was asked.
“He’s a hero. He’s amazing. He’s influenced so many people, he was so brave.” I wanted them to know about this great man. At least they knew Dr. King was one of my heroes, they’d heard his eloquence with their own ears. My daughter did an extra credit poster on Dr. King last year, which hangs in our attic stairway now.
The older I get, the more I admire Dr. King in all his humanness. When I traveled to Haiti this year, despite myriad State Department warnings of a cholera epidemic, infrastructure problems, outbreaks of riots and violence, I thought of Dr. King as a father. He was willing to work for justice, even when that meant he’d go to jail, face dogs and firehoses, violence, and ultimately death. What he risked was great, and he was aware of the risks he was taking, the risks to his family as well. I can’t imagine. To have those sorts of threats looming on your daily horizon must have been staggering. He proclaimed, “I just want to do God’s will,” which must have burned within him, because it’s something he could have run from, something he could have stuffed down deep when the stakes got higher. But, Dr. King felt God was calling him as a leader to usher in change, serious costly change that would not come without a fight.
There was a bomb threat on the plane Dr. King took the day before his assassination. Life and death, faith and violence became that closely entwined and intermingled. To face your own mortality and threats against your life, and still get up every morning and be about the arduous work of changing systems? Who can face that kind of pressure? He was thirty-nine when he died, not even into middle age yet, when he died in that decade of assassinations.  “I have a dream” delivered in the year Medgar Evers and John F. Kennedy were slain; then in 1968, Dr. King and Robert Kennedy were killed, along with other assassinations occurring in that decade.

Dr. King proclaims, “And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!”

One cost of his leadership, Dr. King knows, as does every strong leader, is that the fruits of your efforts may not be seen in your lifetime. He’s working towards something that is not about his own personal agenda, and positive results may not occur within the scope of his lifetime, and still he works diligently. This work for justice makes me think of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, Spain. This cathedral that has been under construction since 1882, and is still not finished, although what is finished is unusual, engaging, and in places strikingly beautiful. Antoni Gaudi worked on the basilica much of his life and said of the cathedral, “The expiatory church of La Sagrada Família is made by the people and is mirrored in them. It is a work that is in the hands of God and the will of the people.”

Justice on earth is always a work in progress, there’s always something undone about it. Of the leaders I’ve known, who have helped make huge strides towards justice in their communities, they’ve said to me, “Yes, but….” Meaning, they’ve looked at what they’ve been able to accomplish, and they’ve also held that in balance with what has remained undone. I think of
Bibi Russell, a high fashion model who started “fashion for development,” became an employer of weavers in Bangladesh, helping over 30,000 people out of poverty there, and moving her efforts on to Cambodia, and Colombia. She sees what is still “undone.” My friend Peter Hesse, has worked to get training for over 1,000 teachers in Haiti, to set up micro-businesses there, has moved on to the Ivory Coast, and still he sees what more could be done.

Dr. King reminds us, “It’s all right to talk about ‘streets flowing with milk and honey,’ but God has commanded us to be concerned about the slums down here, and his children who can’t eat three square meals a day. It’s all right to talk about the new Jerusalem, but one day, God’s preacher must talk about the new New York, the new Atlanta, the new Philadelphia, the new Los Angeles, the new Memphis, Tennessee. This is what we have to do.” This is what we have to do, all these years later, …we’ve got to give ourselves to this struggle until the end.”

Then when Dr. King closes his speech, on the night before his death, with, “Mine eyes have seen the coming of the glory of the Lord!” we believe him. This, all this, is God’s work. It’s scary because it’s done by humans and it doesn’t always end well here on earth, think John the Baptist, think Jesus, think Father Damien of Molokai, think Dr. King. To have that sort of intimacy with God, to believe you are doing what God would have you do, to give yourself to “this struggle until the end?” Serious business. Which of course begs this question: What is God calling You to, which may not get finished, which may remain as unfinished business, but which God is calling you to nevertheless?

The Body

Demi Moore and I are about the same age, which is where the similarities might cease, except we both have a connection to the great state of Iowa: Ashton and I were both born there. Alas, poor Demi is being hounded because, now, after the break up, she is deemed “too thin” for tabloids. Really? Really? This was the woman who posed nude on the cover of Vanity Fair while pregnant.
Most of the adult women I know have trouble with their body image. Not that their bodies aren’t perfectly or nearly perfectly functional, they are for the most part, but somewhere along the way, the American women I know were taught to really dislike their bodies in a way we loathe mosquitoes or the smell of sour milk. Demi, it appears, is no exception.
The church surprisingly does little to heal this rift for women. I’ve rarely heard a sermon, nor have I actually fully preached one, on the lies women have swallowed whole about their bodies.* I have led retreats on the mind/body/spirit connection, but that gulf, inspired by St. Paul and others, worked to separate women from their bodies, then airbrushing and advertising finished the job. Paul writes to the Romans, “we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh—for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if you live by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live,” (Romans 8:12-13) We, as the church, can do more to bridge this divide.
At the 2008 Festival of Faith and Writing, a group of my clergywomen friends and I listened to the Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor speak/preach. Most of us were weeping silently during her speech, and when she finished, one clergywoman looked at me and said, “Stick a fork in me, I’m done.” BBT speaks, preaches, and writes well, and she was talking about the need for preachers to ground sermons in the body, in the human body. BBT reminded the audience that none are quivering brains sitting there, that our spirits are housed in bodies that delight in the world.
I’m reminded of this on Thursday evenings when I sit in a balcony in a big box of a building and watch my daughter’s gymnastics class. It’s almost all girls in there, and they are flying through the air on beams, uneven bars, mats, trampolines, pommel horses, and into the foam pit. I try to do a handful of pull ups in a boot camp class I take, and I am watching these young girls doing them repeatedly, and smiling as they do them. These girls are strong, mighty, moving through time and space with a mastery, energy, and grace that’s impressive, while the two mothers behind me are talking about how they are trying to lose weight, and one laments, “I have tried everything!”
When I was in gymnastics as a tween, I had that fearlessness, I loved it, until about age thirteen, when I began to despise the strong arms and legs I possessed. Another friend of mine hated her strong arms and we both longed for the spindly version we saw on models, rather than our muscular ones. I hate to think, as I look at these strong girls, that they’ll soon be hating the very bodies propelling them off the floor and into the front flip or the very legs on which they spin on the beam.
It’s a perfect marketing ploy for women’s products: have girls hate their bodies so they always feel they aren’t enough, they need to consume more—more make-up, more hair product, more plastic surgery, more white strips for their teeth, whatever.
It’s funny, then, that as my friends and I age, we are making peace with our bodies. We delight in them. Maybe Demi is learning that now too, that once you circle the loop, and run past the 40 marker, we women hopefully learn that we can embrace what remains. Sure, some women I know have loved their bodies from the get-go, but not without critique. I can’t think of any woman I know who doesn’t regularly size up their bodies, head to toe, with harsh criticism.
As I sit watching the power of these mighty gymnasts, I’m mindful I’m the mother of a tween. Like many of my friends, we are aware that how we speak of our own bodies in front of our teens and tweens sends messages to our daughters about their own bodies.
So? We emphasize health, and sunscreen, and not the fact our bottoms are moving south, and my God, how much exercise is needed to defeat gravity’s downward pull? And breasts? Past 40, we give thanks for them and pray for safe mammograms for ourselves and for every woman. We give thanks for those women who look like real women in the media, women with skin and muscle on their bones, women who come in all colors, shapes, and sizes. We talk about food as fuel, to fuel our lives, our brains. We emphasize dignity, that a body is a gift we’ve been given, we need to care for our bodies well, they are the homes we move around in for a lifetime. This is a bodily life, and as much as we say, “…we are spiritual beings living a bodily life…” still, we are grounded in a miraculous temple that fires messages across synapses, that can react before our brains know what’s going on.
“Weight watchers, I’m going back,” says the woman behind me, “I have to do something.”
As I watch these lithe and stocky girls, short ones and tall ones jumping and stretching, I pray they can love their bodies, pray they can embrace the bodies they’ve been given all the days of their lives. From my vantage point, both in terms of years older than they, and from this vantage point looking down on them from the balcony above, it’s clear to see they are, like the Psalmist says,  “fearfully and wonderfully made.”
*My dear friend, the Rev. Ruth Huizinga Everhart, has preached sermons about bodies, in particular, women’s bodies. She’s an exception. She blogs at www.rutheverhart.com/blog and has a book coming out too.

If you want to read more of Ruth, this Lenten season, you can, with her 2012 Lenten devotional