A sign of contradiction ...

The words of Christine Pohl have been formative in my thinking about what it means to be a community. As we meditate on what it means to be God’s people in this world, in our ministry, hear her words of wisdom:

The contemporary church hungers for models of a more authentic Christian life in which glimpses of the Kingdom can be seen and the promise of the Kingdom is embodied. More than words and ideas, the world needs living pictures of what a life of hospitality could look like. Over sixty years ago, Peter Maurin wrote that “we need Houses of Hospitality to show what idealism looks like when it is practiced.” Communities of hospitality combine in daily experience the rigor and sacrifice, joy and empowerment, of faithful living. Many of those interviewed commented that living in a community of hospitality was the hardest and best thing they had ever done.

A community which embodies hospitality to strangers is “a sign of contradiction, a place where joy and pain, crises and peace are closely interwoven.” Friendships forged in hospitality contradict contemporary messages about who is valuable and “good to be with,” who can “give life to others.” Such communities are also sign of hope “that love is possible, that the world is not condemned to a struggle of oppressors and oppressed, that class and racial warfare is not inevitable.” The gift of hope embedded in these communities of hospitality nourishes, challenges, and transforms guests, hosts, and sometimes, the larger community.

Not every church member would choose the substantial life-style changes that community living requires. However, there is much to be learned about hospitality from these intentional and intense community settings that can be applied to more conventionally structured households and churches. These communities have found ways to cope with the awkwardness, risk, and high demands associated with hospitality to strangers. They have developed structures that allow an ancient practice to thrive in the postmodern world. None set out to be an exemplar of Christian hospitality, but because of their long-term viability and vitality, a number of them do offer a model to which others are drawn.

I believe that the faith community at Westview is one such exemplar of Christian hospitality. Like our ancestors in the first century church, and in congregations in the second and third centuries, together we are discovering what it means to live sacrificially and counterculturally so as to shelter the stranger and open our doors to the outcast.

May our hearts be lifted up today as we see the ways that we boldly embody the hospitality of the Kingdom. May we be challenged to be better and do better as we encounter the places where we still struggle.

Grace and peace,

Ron

*Christine Pohl, Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition, pp. 10-11.

There are no winners behind walls

So the day came that Jericho falls. Has it ever struck you as odd that Joshua places a curse on a city in his own land (Joshua 6:26)? Why would you place a curse on the first piece of land which you took into possession? Either Hiel didn't know the story of the curse, or he didn't take the stories of his people very seriously, because he ignored the curse at a very high cost (I Kings 16.34).

There are several good reasons for Joshua's action. First, he was wise enough to know that there would be some who would think that this was an ideal spot and stop to rebuild and live. Long live the status quo! After all, most cities in the middle east are not built on new ground, but from the rubble of pre-existing cities. After 40 years in the wilderness, this place had to look good. But the people of Israel still had far too much territory to conquer to put down roots yet.

Or it could be that he was concerned that they would be tempted to rebuild the fortress and try to hide out in it when things got tough. But God has never been inclined to have a fortress mentality. Fortresses are what people trust in when they don't trust quite enough in God. His people are, when they behave as courageously as he would have them behave, marching at the gates of their enemies.

This is an important lesson for our kids to learn as leaders of the church. The church was never designed to have a fortress mentality, a defense of the status quo, with arrows for those who dare to march outside, but within bowshot. Instead, the church is intended to attack the very gates of hell, gate by gate.

Grace and Peace,

Ron

Grandma's kitchen table

Is there a history of food in your family? There are a lot of stories about food in mine: rituals for what food is to be eaten at which holiday, carefully researched histories of which aunt it was who originated a favorite family recipe, tales about how certain individuals cooked or learned to cook, and legends about the culinary artistry of certain family members. Many of these stories in the Bruner family have as their main character my paternal grandmother. These stories remain fresh in my memory even though the last time I ate at my grandmother’s table was in 1964, just months before she died.

When Grandma came home from church in Bowie, Texas, the screen door would scree open, and this six foot tall, broad-shouldered woman would enter. Without bending to touch them, she would kick off her low-heeled shoes under the end of the sofa, and quietly cross the hardwood floors in stocking feet. Moving to the kitchen, she would cross in front of Granddad, who had been firmly ensconced in his chair with his newspaper and Winstons all morning long. She would take off her pillbox hat en route, Bible still firmly pinned beneath one elbow; Grandma never went to worship without a hat on her head – it was not to be done. Putting away the hat and Bible in the kitchen, she would begin work on lunch.

There was something spiritual about Grandma’s cooking. It seemed that she imitated the divine in her ability to make a feast for a large family out of practically nothing. And surely what she cooked was so heavenly that even the angels must have been tempted to find some excuse to drop in without notice. Although she had a very cautious view of manifestations of the Holy Spirit, surely some of her recipes must have been inspired: she very rarely resorted to any written notes. Usually she just quietly worked: chopping, sifting, mixing, kneading, folding, straining, stirring, crimping, seasoning, tasting. She would measure when she baked or canned, but the rest was done by sight, smell, texture, and taste. Meanwhile, as she continued her work, this amazing symphony of smells would emerge from her kitchen, making the very idea of a dinner bell absurdly redundant. People would just intuitively migrate to the kitchen, like the hopeful chosen divinely called to the land of promise and plenty. There was this now, and not yet, about the whole experience; you could smell it, and you could see some of it, you just hoped that the world wouldn’t end before you got a chance to eat it.

Finally, we were allowed to sit at the table. Grandma brought coffee to the table for Granddad, coffee so hot that Granddad always had to pour some into a saucer to sip before he could drink from the cup. Baked ham, potato salad, fresh-snapped black-eyed peas, fresh vegetables, peach preserves on hot biscuits, and banana pudding. Heaven at the kitchen table.

I’ve had parts of this meal since: Ann has figured out the black-eyed peas and the potato salad. But no one can quite get the banana pudding, or the peach preserves, or the chow-chow to match up with my memories. I can relish recalling past pleasures of the table, and tastes of heaven in the present, but the experience of sitting at my grandmother’s table is not possible any more. Still, I live in hope. Hope that one day I will once again sit at a heavenly table with her and enjoy the quiet and faithful comfort of her presence. And perhaps she won’t even have to cook. God can cook after all. The family of faith has its cooking stories, too. It’s true. Read this:

When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, "Bring some of the fish that you have just caught." So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, "Come and have breakfast." Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, "Who are you?" because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.
John 21:9-14 - NRSV

I can just imagine how good this meal tasted to this hungry crew: hot, tasty, filling. Since everything Jesus did was well done, I have to believe that this meal was refreshing, delicious, and satisfying.

But one of these days God will bring us to a table
where we can all be satisfied in a way that is, unbelievable as it is,
beyond even the masterful cooking skills of my dear grandmother.
We can have deservedly fond memories of the table of the past,
and we really need to celebrate our time together at the table today,
but, oh, what a day is coming! What a banquet is being prepared!
I think that I can smell dinner cooking already . . .

Say grace, and enjoy peace at his table,
In hopes of the table to come,

Ron