Serious faith for misfits, lousy joiners, and other homesick souls
“Well,” Fr. Francis said, “That is a relationship and relationships go through 
transitions.” Of all of the things I have been mulling over in trying to make sense of a painful friendship, this one made the difference. It was so simple, and apparently truthful because it made my gut ache.
When I was young I would go to camp or a youth service where I was told that what I needed was a personal relationship with Jesus. It made a kind of sense as a lot of things do for children because I was still relying on other people to teach me how to make sense of things. So I agreed, with no regrets.
However, I happen to be the kind of person, and have been since childhood, to throw myself headlong into the task at hand whatever it may be. So I was bound and determined to have the most personal relationship with Jesus a person could have. This is a dangerous prayer. The trouble began when I took it so seriously it started to take my life in some surprising if not shocking directions that none of my youth pastors had anticipated.
J. Douglas Harrison. The Patient
In the next few weeks I will occasionally be posting some reflections on what it can mean to have faith in a time when the Christian faith may seem, at least to many people, quite unreasonable.
I won’t try to provide irrefutable evidence in favor of the Christian faith. I will not be presenting argumentative ‘facts’ or try to show that Christianity is obviously intellectually superior to everything else as others may have tried to do. I have nothing here to prove. I have nothing here to buy or sell. Instead, I believe there are different genres by which we come to see what moves people to live as they do.
This is a guest post of mine on an otherwise lovley and insightful blog, “Knitting Benedict: The Rule…by hand.” This is one of my favorite blogs to regular. There is hardly a better way, than I can imgaine, to glean wisdom an ancient book of instruction than by taking small bites of it and chewing slowly while working with your hands on small stuff. “Work and pray,” says saint Benedict.
I am in the middle of forging a batch of sock puppets. As I do I cannot help but see the contrasts between the kinds of toys I am fashioning and a stern bit of advice from Benedict’s rule: don’t speak unless spoken to.
Clearly I write from a position of someone who sits near the exit. I love church, 
but sometimes I find it exhausting. I love my weirdo burner friends, and sometimes they can be a little harsh on my faith. I long to be in Christian community, yet, depending on the community, I find myself itching to get out. I am finding that there are hidden moments of grace ready for the taking in all kinds of communities. And when I am willing to exercise a little humility and receive it, I find that that grace goes further than the edges of my life, and often finds its way into the open wild.
There are somethings we can mistakenly embrace about Easter that distract us from the real hope that can help shape our lives. These things are worth evaluating, not to deflate us, but to focus us on where the real hope lies.
It is harder than it looks to know how to take Easter. On the one hand it feels like an easy home run, a touchdown, a triumphal entry. But those were the kinds of thing we were celebrating last week. How then is this week different? For one thing it amazes how few people to whom Jesus appeared after the resurrection.
One would think he would be taking out billboards all over town that said, “I told you so!” but he doesn’t. The first to see Jesus would be the last we would expect. It was not the disciples, not even his family, but one of the worst outcasts of all of his company: Mary Magdalene.
The disciples are dolts. They have the hardest time learning the most obvious lessons. Jesus goes and feeds several thousand, gets on a boat with them, and suddenly they are afraid Jesus will be mad because the didn’t pack a lunch. Zheesh. In that same chapter Jesus heals this man in a most unusual way and he has to do it twice. Either Jesus is losing his touch or Mark is writing to try to be be obvious: We don’t see clearly yet. The first time Jesus touches the blind man he sees part way. ” I see people, like trees walking around.” I get that. That makes sense to me. If he is still half blind, then he is not wrong. But there is more to be seen and it will be a shocker. So don’t stop now…John’s body was less like mine than anyone else’s in the room. In that room full of people with some very unique bodies and abilities, that was saying a lot. Everything in this particular prayer service was going to have a lot to do with 
what bodies can and cannot do, and how we live with that. It was this night I found and answered a new question:, “How many bodies it take to wash two feet?” Answer: All of ours.
Throughout the western world the Wednesday before Easter is called,”Spy Wednesday.” It is a reference to the night Judas’ sold-out Jesus to the Roman 
authorities. It was the night that set the crucifixion into motion. For that he will always be remembered as one of the most evil figures of history. In some parts of the world on this night an effigy of Judas is thrown from high buildings or dragged through town while people throw sticks at it. He is blame worthy, cruel, and the farthest thing from our imagination we would ever want to be. Which is why it is so important for us to see where we relate to him.
