Love, these sacred thoughts

A Cat Tale: Relentless Pursuit of Love

by ShethDecember 6, 2023Cats / Death / Loneliness / Love / Pets / SeminaryLeave a Comment

Look, this is going to end with one of those endings that we appreciate but still roll our eyes over it. Like, in my preaching class, a young man was delivering this really great sermon and it was all tossed out when he ended a sentence with, “…and that boy was me.” We all contained our laughter as best we could and we recognized the power those phrases don’t always have. And this is going to end like that, but don’t toss this out. Please.

My partner and I were in seminary together (we met there (fun fact: I did not like her when we met (at all))) when she rescued this cat named Muji. She’d been talking about getting another cat but this wasn’t just another cat. This was a special-needs cat who would need a lot. I had a general understanding of Muji’s condition when Chelsea May adopted him, and I wasn’t too keen on the idea because I was keen on her. I wanted to be with her for the long-term and adding a handicapped cat – a handicat – into the mix wasn’t what I had in mind.

I also had a general understanding that when Chelsea May sets her mind on something, nothing can change it. She had fallen in love with this cat and the expression of my emotions and feelings about it were appreciated and taken under advisement. And then we went and she filled out the paperwork to adopt him.

Muji shortly after he arrived at Chelsea May’s

Muji was an orange tabby with long, spindly legs and patchy fur partially covering his ribs and hip bones. His mouth was more gum than tooth. He had a neurological disorder similar to CH (cerebellar hypoplasia) which caused him to walk with a wobble, stammering across the floor in uncontrolled stops and starts. When he lost his balance he would fall onto his side, yet somehow he would still make progress in the direction he was headed. He used his claws to his advantage, dragging himself across rugs and up pant legs and the sides of furniture. For being a handicat, he was certainly very mobile.

Unfortunately, Muji couldn’t make this physical ailment go away, so the litter box situation was almost always a disaster. And when Muji was startled he would – with super-cat-like strength and agility – he would just launch himself across the room. So if he was in the litter box pooping and he lost his balance and fell backwards into said poop, he would then be startled by the poop now in his fur, and so all rockets would be fired and he would zoom across the floor. And the poop on the fur would then be the poop on the floor, and he would be over in the corner somewhere trying to get fresh poop out of his fur with his tongue, and that was a nearly-daily thing.

Muji wanted to be with you on an incredibly close level.

Muji was a handicat but he didn’t let his disability keep him from being a cat. He liked to chase toys and laser lights, falling and stumbling along the way, eventually just swatting away at the air and the toy as he lay on his side, eyes desperately seeking the target. He loved food…he loved food the way I love food (and I really love food); if he heard crinkling plastic which may have made a similar sound to his cat treat bag, he would come bumbling and fumbling across the floor yelling his loudest meow in a desperate attempt to get food. The sound of a can opening sent him into fits of uncontrollable excitement and when the food was set before him he became something similar to the Cookie Monster, but instead of delicious cookies it was wet, pureed cat food…everywhere…oh my goodness it went everywhere. And that “being startled” thing and flinging himself across the floor I mentioned earlier? That would happen with food, too.

Aside from the poop and pee and food in his fur and on the floor, he was a pretty good cat for a cat. He was snuggly and wanted to be near people. He wanted to be held and loved – Chelsea May had a papoose that he loved to sleep in as Chelsea did her chores. This cat was relentless in his desire to not only be loved, but to love. He pursued you to get into your arms because he wanted to be with you. He would journey for ten minutes to get across the house to find where the people were and yelled until you held him. He sought out affection and love and did not stop until he received it.

But I wasn’t having it. I wasn’t the biggest fan of this cat (everyone else was) and I did my very best to tolerate his existence in my life and in my relationship with my partner. He felt like a burden to me and my future. He felt like he was more trouble than it was worth. He felt like he would be too much for Chelsea May and I didn’t want to carry that weight.

As much as it sounds like I was, I promise I wasn’t this way because I’m a heartless ogre; I was this way because I wasn’t doing well myself and my mental space was too clouded and crowded to bring in another being that needed my time and attention and energy. Someone else could take care of this cat. Someone else had better resources to take care of this cat. Someone else would have more time to spend with this cat. Someone else had a partner who could enjoy a special creature like Muji. And in those days, I wasn’t that someone.

As I moved through seminary it was pretty apparent to me that my mental health wasn’t spectacular, but it wasn’t terrible; I wasn’t in need of medical intervention because I thought I could get out of that depression pit on my own. Exercise and lots of sunlight and hanging out with people and doing the things that bring me joy – that’s what I was doing and it was keeping me afloat. But then the COVID lockdowns hit and all of the things that kept me going were no longer present to keep me going.

I suffered in those early days of COVID and I experienced a number of great losses. I lost out on a graduation ceremony from seminary. I lost out on the dream wedding with my wife. I lost out on saying goodbye to friends. I lost out on healthy endings, so when I started my first pastorate in southwest Missouri I was at an all-time low in my life and had unhealthy beginnings in my work and life in Missouri. The job of a pastor is already difficult, but the difficulty is only compounded by a pandemic, a fair election called fraud with an attempt to overthrow the government, a large dose of an unhealthy congregation, anticipatory grief, and loneliness. All of this was what my mind, body, and soul was wrestling with as I moved into this new position and I knew I needed to do something different, so I talked with my doctor who prescribed me some antidepressants and I began meeting with a therapist.

It took a few months, but roughly a year after moving to Missouri and taking medicine and seeking therapy, I was feeling good; I was feeling like myself again and the world wasn’t nearly as difficult to live in as it was before. Don’t get me wrong, the world was still terrible (COVID variants, Trump’s 2020 election schemes, degrading of the Supreme Court, etc.), but I was in a better place mentally to deal with it all.

One day I was at home getting lunch and Muji heard the refrigerator open so he came tossing and shuffling and groping into the wind to make progress into the kitchen to see what he could find to eat and something startled him. Remember when I said that when Muji was startled he would – with super-cat-like strength and agility – he would just launch himself across the room? He did that this day and bonked his head on the wall, something I’d seen him do a hundred times before, but this day…this day it was different. This day, as I looked down at that poor, helpless orange-ish cat, I saw for the first time the beloved creature Chelsea May had seen the whole time. For the first time I saw a little being made by God that needed love and wanted to give love. For the first time I saw one of God’s little creatures who needed help. As he lay there at my feet yelling at me for food and attention and pets I saw and heard the cry of God’s beloved.

When I was mentally in a good place I could see the world around me for exactly what it was. I could see the ones who loved me and wanted me to succeed. I could see what losses I needed to accept and what I needed to walk away from. I could see that there was hope and promise and something better. And I saw all of that when I looked down at that feline; when I looked at Muji I knew that it was okay and things were getting better. Despite his disabilities and his challenges, that damn cat pursued me since he set his wobbly little foot in Chelsea’s home because he wanted to love me, and he kept coming after me day after day after day until he won me over.

For the first time since he had been a part of our life, I had the ability to see Muji as a lovely and loving cat that I desperately needed. He could have written me off – many pets have that ability and can just ignore people they don’t like (some go so far as to bite those they don’t like), but Muji didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was, in some strange way, a furry embodiment of what love was and what love wasn’t.

Love wasn’t going to stop its pursuit. Love wasn’t going to discriminate. Love wasn’t going to bother with formalities or always doing things in a regular way. Love wasn’t always show up clean and neat and tidy. Love wasn’t always going to look ‘normal’ (whatever that is). Muji showed me and all who met him that love is love is love and there’s a whole lot of people and animals and spaces that are filled with love just waiting to be accepted.

His last day on this earth. A full belly of wet cat food and treats, nestled into his papoose.

While Muji had been in my life for nearly three years, it was in his final few months that I came to appreciate and love him as much as he always had appreciated and loved me. I looked at his matted hair and ever-more-prominent hip bones (he was struggling to maintain weight) and saw a lovely little being with a dumb face that wanted to love me. I looked at his mouth perched open as he slept, heavily purring, and saw a contentment I so wanted in spite of all my pains and hurts. I looked at his herky-jerky movements and saw determination that somehow motivated me to keep marching forward until I got what I wanted. This little orange cat pursued me and loved me and you know, (prep your eyeroll) while Chelsea May had rescued Muji, somewhere along the line, it was Muji that did the rescuing.

All I can say now is thanks be to God for the pursuit of love. Thanks be to God for Muji.

P.S. – We have always had Christmas stockings for the animals (who am I?) and when Muji died, Chelsea May and I chose to keep filling his stocking every year and donate the gifts to a local shelter. This year is our third year doing this and we wanted to open it up to others. So, if you’d like to contribute to Muji’s Stocking Fund, you can do so here: https://gofund.me/485e28ae

much love. sheth.

Plop…Plop…Plop!

by ShethOctober 6, 2023October 6, 2023Christianity / Life / Love / Relationships4 Comments

A few weeks ago, my partner and I ventured to Chicago to see Corook, one of our favorite musical artists; you may know them from Tik Tok – their biggest song so far is called, “If I Were a Fish” and it is an absolute gem of a song. While they are most assuredly not what the world would call a ‘Christian’ artist, in the most beautiful way I would define Corook as a Christ-like artist who displayed the very presence of Jesus to a crowd far-too-often rejected by His followers in this world.

The superfans that we are, my partner and I were first inside the small venue, but it didn’t matter because Corook’s fanbase is really chill and relaxed and there were zero chances of a fight breaking out for a better view. We made our way to the stage where, as we waited for the show to start, we talked with the folks around us about our favorite Corook songs and where we all were from, and pretty quickly we dove into life stories and what drew us to Corook’s music. A couple and their small daughter came near our little group, so we made space at the very front so the 8-year-old could have a clear view of the performance.

As the time drew near for the show to start, I looked out at the ever-growing crowd and saw folks of all genders and sexualities and races and abilities, all talking with one another, laughing and smiling and welcoming others who neared them; this group of strangers had quickly become a community. These folks who have far-too-often been pushed to the margins of our contemporary society had a space to come together as one body, to sing and dance and love and unconditionally accept, even as the world outside those venue doors continues to seek ways legislate these people out of existence.

As the show started, this spontaneous community of love expressed their joy of music with support and appreciation of the opening act Morgen, singing and dancing along with the budding artist and her music.

When Corook took the stage, they took a moment to acknowledge us – the crowd – and Corook expressed their appreciation for our appreciation of them and their music. And then we all rocked out to “IDK God,” “Snakes,” “Emergency Contact,” and, of course, with kazoos in hand, “If I Were a Fish.”

And as Corook played their set, I sat in the corner next to the stage having this profound realization that I was in the presence of God’s beloved community. In this music-filled space were folks who had far-too-often felt excluded from community, folks who had been denied equality and access to participation, folks who wanted nothing more than to be loved for who they were, and here in this space they were surrounded by all that they had ever wanted from the world: love. acceptance. belonging. fitting in, not pointed out. being in joy.

For the entirety of that concert, all who attended were welcomed and appreciated, all were loved and valued, all were accepted just as they were. There was love, not just for the musicians, but for one another, and space was made to ensure that everyone could be: could be present, could be themselves, could be loved and loving. This was the beloved community.

Harvard Philosophy professor Josiah Royce came up with the idea of beloved community, a space where folks who are dedicated to loyalty and truth can find belonging; a stable space that embraces all of humanity in all its forms. And Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. expanded on this idea, “…the end is the creation of a beloved community. It is this type of spirit and this type of love that can transform opposers into friends. It is this kind of understanding and goodwill that will transform the deep gloom of the old age into the exuberant gladness of the new age. It is this love which brings about miracles.”

The beloved community was in that very room and I was witness to it – I was INCLUDED in it! In that space, I, who for so many years had opposed the LGBTQIA2+ community, was once again welcomed and included in spite of my past beliefs. In that space I was welcomed in just as Jesus has welcomed me in: with love and acceptance and reconciliation. In that space belonging and inclusion were at the forefront and I was offered all of it.

Corook, who is part of this community of the marginalized, used their talents to create space for God’s beloved community to exist and flourish, no matter how brief. Corook used what God had given them to serve their siblings in ways that most of us cannot; Corook opened wide the doors of that venue and welcomed those who many in this world would deem to be the ‘least of these’. From my perspective, looking out at that community which I was invited into, I realized this was more than a concert; Corook’s performance was a service of love for God’s beloved community. At that show, Corook was Christ-like: welcoming the stranger, ensuring love and acceptance, establishing – though ever-so-briefly – God’s beloved community.

Thanks be to God for Corook and Morgen.

Thanks be to God for the beloved community.

Thanks be to God for finding belonging in the most unlikeliest of spaces.
—–

much love. sheth.

A Love Letter From Jesus*

by ShethSeptember 10, 2023September 10, 2023Christianity / Church / Life / Love / Prayer / SermonLeave a Comment

My Beloveds,

I heard that you have been exploring Matthew’s witness and interpretation of my time spent with creation, and I am thrilled that you have been, in a way, walking with me this year. I hope that Matthew’s words have been helpful to you and your journey through life and that my words he has recorded have been uplifting and beneficial to each of you personally as well as to your community as a whole.

I’m writing to you to expand upon the words Matthew has recorded in the eighteenth chapter, because this stuff here in Matthew’s gospel is paramount to the community’s survival, not just your community’s survival, but the entire Christian community’s survival. For millennia the church has prayed as I taught: “forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors” but y’all (and I mean all y’all in Benton Harbor and beyond, to Berrien County, to Michigan, and to the ends of the earth) y’all haven’t always lived forgiveness and, as my return is imminent, it’s urgent that all of you start doing this forgiveness thing right and you start doing it right away.

The best way that I can describe what forgiveness is, is by reminding you of what God’s forgiveness is. While you all were first created in the image and likeness of God , that image became stained really quickly because Adam and Eve chose their self over their Creator , they chose to disobey God’s word, they chose to believe a lie, they chose someone and something else instead of choosing and trusting and relying on God. That choice made long ago has been a constant across time and even today humanity continues to struggle to find themselves in relationship with God.

God has always been, is always, and will always be present and active in your lives, but that choice of evil blinds you all from that reality. You forget the words God has spoken to Jeremiah, “the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” ; the words spoken to Isaiah, “Fear not, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God” ; the words spoken to Zephaniah, “The Lord, your God, is in your midst.” And you forget the words I have spoken to you, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” God and I have not turned our backs on you – we are here for you because we love you, and we really want to be in relationship with you. And we can only do that if we remove the blinders from your eyes together – you, me, God, and the Spirit…we can only be in relationship with you if we span that chasm that has grown between us, and we do that by offering up forgiveness and love.

We offer forgiveness of all those things that have caused that chasm to grow and expand between us and you. Forgiveness of those big sins that you all try your best to avoid, and most of you do a good job of not murdering or stealing, of lying or cheating on your partners, of making idols and honoring your parents – you do a really good job of avoiding those sins. But at the heart of these big commandments, somehow humans still murder one another by bullying and judging; you still steal by allowing large corporations to walk on employees and natural resources; you still lie – they’re ‘little white lies’ as your pastor’s mom would say – and those aren’t as bad, right? At the heart of these big commandments, at the heart of all of our commandments is this: love God and love your neighbor, but more often than not, you don’t do that.

We love you all so much that we can do nothing but offer you forgiveness because we know you can do better, you can be better, we know that you, in fact, can love God and neighbor if you merely try. And we forgive because we hold out hope that you will seek our forgiveness, and you will try to walk with us, and you will try to love. And we forgive because we want you to know forgiveness so you can give it to each other; as we forgive, we hope and trust that you will also forgive.

My dearest disciples, it’s absolutely vital for your community’s survival that you forgive one another, not just once or twice or even three times…not even just seven times…you should offer up forgiveness seventy-seven times – you should go beyond the limits of human understanding about forgiveness and you should keep going in that direction. Just as my and my Parents’ forgiveness reconciles us to you, forgiveness between you all will reconcile yourselves one to another.

I know it’s difficult to forgive – trust me! Even beyond my divine forgiveness, I know it’s difficult to forgive on a human level because I have been with you all…remember, I hung out with twelve dudes, fishermen and tax collectors and book keepers and fanatical zealots bent on toppling the Roman government. These men needed a whole lot of forgiveness!
Thomas never believed anything anyone said – he rarely took me at my word but I would absolutely forgive him again and again because I knew his past and how hurt he had been from being built up and let down so many times. And I forgave him and loved him because he’s my beloved, he’s my Parent’s beloved.

Bartholemew would step on the back of my sandal all the time…all…the…time. And yes, that was super annoying, and yes, I went through an inordinate number of sandals, but I forgave him because he himself hadn’t worn sandals before because he was so poor and couldn’t get the feel for walking in them. And I forgave him and loved him because he’s my beloved, he’s my Parent’s beloved.

Peter – the one I trusted with the keys to the kingdom – Peter waffled as a disciple on a near daily basis. He trusted me to walk on water, and then he didn’t. He claimed me and denied me in the same breath. He wanted to forgive, but only up to a point. But I forgave him because I knew he really did want to walk with me, he was just torn between heaven and earth. And I forgave him and loved him because he’s my beloved, he’s my Parent’s beloved.

Judas. When Judas identified me in the garden of Gethsemane and I was taken into custody, I found myself utterly betrayed by my close friend. Though he couldn’t imagine it possible, I forgave him because I knew he was in a tight spot, and he chose evil and violence over goodness and mercy. And I forgave him and loved him because he’s my beloved, he’s my Parent’s beloved.

As much as I love and forgive them, I do the same for you. All those times you’ve been on the giving end of a crass joke…all those times you’ve cheated to get ahead…all those times you’ve walked away from my children in need to fulfill your own desires, I have been there, forgiving and forgiving and forgiving and I will keep forgiving because I love you because you’re my beloved and you’re my Parent’s beloved.

And I hope you can do the same for one another. Forgiveness heals brokenness. Forgiveness redeems the lost. Forgiveness welcomes the denied. Forgiveness is living out my life in your world for one another. Forgiveness, my friends, is love. So do as I and your Creator have done: love and forgive, forgive, and love. Listen to the Advocate whom I have sent to you as she speaks to you and guides you towards forgiveness. Listen as she encourages you all to seek out those cavernous relationships to begin mending them. Listen as she gives you all the words you need to talk with one another. Listen as she guides you to love and to forgive.

You all need one another’s love and forgiveness. You have strained relationships that you want to mend, but you’re not sure how to do that, and so you put it off…listen, just start with love and forgiveness. Text them or write them or send them smoke signals, saying, “Hey, I love you, and I’m sorry that our relationship is in the dumps.” And ask for forgiveness for what you’ve done and seek forgiveness for what they’ve done, and get on with it. Those relationships are far too valuable and meaningful and necessary for you to let them slip into the void. Love and forgive, my children…forgive and love.

And as difficult as that love and forgiveness is to give to one another, you all know your own thing that seems to be beyond all love and forgiveness. Violations of body, of mind, of soul that have left scars too deep to heal. Tragedies fallen upon families, causing chasms beyond bridges’ spans. Natural disasters and mere coincidence where no one is to blame and no one can forgive or seek forgiveness. Hear me on this: you can not do this love and forgiveness without me. And you can’t do this love and forgiveness without others. To find forgiveness and love in the midst of violence and tragedy is only by a miracle that we can only do together.

Listen to this, as well: just as I love and forgive, we know that your choices have consequences and you must go through them. The same goes for you in your own relationships with one another. If one of you injures or harms another, most certainly seek love and forgiveness, but know that you must also face the consequences of your actions. Punishments for crimes can benefit love and forgiveness, but those punishments must be loving and humane and equal.
And if you’re the one who’s been injured, my dear loves, be patient with yourselves and with one another. I never want you all to hurt one another, and I’m saddened when it does happen, and I experience all the pain and hurt you experience. While I am ready to love and forgive when true repentance is made, the truth is that for you all forgiveness doesn’t come easily, and it doesn’t come lightly, and it doesn’t always come. But walk with me, learn my forgiveness and love, and someday, maybe someday, you can share it with others.

It’s hard to forgive one another. It’s harder to forgive those who wound you deeply. It’s harder, even still, for you to forgive yourselves. When you miss the mark in your own life, you all-too-quickly beat yourself up; love and forgive yourself. When you let your friends down but they readily love and forgive you, love and forgive yourself. When you have denied your true self to please others, love and forgive yourself and be yourself. Children, this life you live is difficult – it’s hard enough as it is – don’t make it harder by being hard on yourselves. Just as I love and forgive you, love and forgive yourself.

I close this letter with the same message I closed that lesson with in Matthew: in all your love and forgiveness, make sure it all comes from your heart. Be honest and true about your love and forgiveness because it will only work its miracles if you do it with all your heart. You know the danger of half-hearted apologies and acts of love, and you know how easily those are discarded and forgotten. Just as you love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, love one another with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. Let your love and forgiveness be honest, true, and whole-hearted. My beloveds, as I love and forgive, do the same for one another, and do the same for yourselves.

Love,
Jesus.

* I delivered this letter as my sermon for First Presbyterian Church of Benton Harbor on September 10, 2023.

On Laying Down Arms

by ShethApril 10, 2023Christianity / Death / Life / Love / Non-Violence / Truth TuesdayLeave a Comment

One of the downfalls to being a Christian is that we’re not always told how difficult the walk with Christ will be. We’re not given the nitty-gritty details about how we’re going to suffer – not so much in that persecution/martyr sense – but in the little things of life: avoiding excesses, loving the unlovable, speaking truth in all circumstances, putting Jesus first. If, as people showed interest in this walk with Jesus, we told them about all this suffering they will face, they would more than likely walk away because it doesn’t sound all that fun. Most people come to God because they’re suffering already – the last thing they need to know is that they’ll have more of it! While it’s not always fun, I would gladly say that in the end, the walk with Christ is worth the small sufferings we must endure.

We endure these sufferings because we’re called to live in a different world and time; we’re called to live in the reality of God’s reign on earth that is both now and not yet, a life oriented toward God’s future. Paul writes in Romans 12:2, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds…” – a call for a new way of thinking and living that, though we may indeed suffer a little (or a lot), we will find peace and reward in the midst of that new living.

I’ve learned that one of the greatest demands of this call to non-conformity and one of the greatest sources of suffering lies in the example Christ gave us for living in this world: that of self-sacrifice. The transformed life toward non-conformity is sacrificing the entirety of our life – body and mind and spirit – as an expression of devotion to God. This self-sacrifice isn’t done out of compulsion nor for appearances; more than likely, self-sacrifice is done in spite of these things. The world mocks self-sacrifice because when it’s done right, you don’t get ahead…you don’t win…you don’t succeed materially; you quite literally live in worldly suffering. Self-sacrifice is an active choice to live the transformed, renewed life that goes against the ways and workings of the world.

It is in living this self-sacrificing, non-conforming, transformed life that we can, as Paul says, “discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom. 12:2). In this discernment we assess and evaluate our lives and the things in it to determine God’s will for us, for our next step, for our direction in and through this world. We discern where we’ll work and how that expresses our call to vocation. We discern where we’ll live and how that expresses our call to evangelism. We discern where we’ll attend church and how that expresses our call to fellowship, relationship, and discipleship. But we also discern little things as transformed non-conformists: am I to give to this organization? Is consuming this media an expression of Godly living? Can I drink a glass of wine? Discernment is ultimately asking what is most pleasing (good/acceptable/perfect) to God and how we can live that out in our daily lives as we love God and neighbor.

“I was much more afraid in Montgomery when I had a gun in my house. When I decided that I couldn’t keep a gun, I came face-to-face with the question of death and I dealt with it. From that point on, I no longer needed a gun nor have I been afraid. Had we become distracted by the question of my safety we would have lost the moral offensive and sunk to the level of our oppressors.”
– Martin Luther King, Jr. (The Autobiography of Martin Luther King, Jr.)

Since my parents visited me and my spouse in Missouri in 2020 I had been praying and reading to discern the will of God in my life concerning the firearms that I own. Why? All I can really say is that the Spirit moved me in that direction and called me to question why I wanted/needed those weapons in my life and in my home. Through this discernment process I found that what would be most pleasing to God was that I remove these weapons from my life. I recognize that this doesn’t conform to the ways I have lived my life, nor does it agree with our extended family’s ways of living; and truthfully it’s been a very difficult discernment process for me to come to terms with this calling, but God’s call to self-sacrifice – to being transformed – is often uncomfortable, disagreeable, and difficult to bear.

Growing up I learned from my dad and grandpa that our family hunted out of necessity. While certainly not dirt poor, we acknowledged that in our poverty, hunting was a way to find food to sustain our family’s life and well-being. For many years the meat we hunted supplemented the food we bought and I found pride and satisfaction in that. As I have been reflecting on my life as a gun owner and hunter I have realized that my use of firearms has not been for sustaining our family, rather, my use of firearms has been solely for sport disguised as family preservation. The countless prairie dogs and birds I killed were never placed in our freezer, they were killed for summer fun. The deer and elk I killed were never needed nor necessary kills for feeding our family as we always had enough. As much as I’ve tried to deny it and argue against it, my hunting has been purely for sport, an affront to my family heritage of hunting and a spit in the face of God for dishonoring creation. God has shown me this lie that I have been telling myself and the wrongs that I have committed against God’s beloved creation. I am hurt that I have deceived myself for so long, ashamed that I defended my actions, and saddened of the destruction and death I have caused.

The first school shooting I remember was at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, in 1999; within 45 minutes the perpetrators murdered twelve fellow students and one teacher before taking their own lives. That wasn’t the first time a shooting occurred at a school and it certainly hasn’t been the last, and the uptick in mass shootings in public places has become a near constant in my American experience. All-too-often I have witnessed news reports of some individual expressing their feelings with a firearm in their hands. The loss of life I have witnessed and the fact that our society allows it to continue is an affront to our Creator who demands from us more than mere thoughts and prayers.

Over the course of my lifetime I have lived in the shadows of wars and in rumors of wars: the Cold War with the former Soviet Union, the arms race with China, the 1980’s Iran skirmish, the 1990’s Gulf War, the 2000’s Iraq and Afghanistan wars, and most recently the saber-rattling between the United States and Russia. Violence and war on the global stage has been a near-constant for my entire life. In my travels to Kosovo, Mexico, and Budapest I have witnessed firsthand the destruction and death which firearms have waged on God’s creation. I have listened to stories of families evicted with AK-47’s pointed at children. I have stood at the foot of a mass grave where an entire village was executed by firearms. I ran my fingers across walls riddled with bullet holes. I saw tears shed as families recounted the systematic ethnic genocide they endured. I have been living in a world of violence carried out by firearms. Certainly this could have happened with rocks or knives, but the reality is that it has happened with firearms. The human heart is prone to evil and causes this violence, but when armed with readily-accessible weapons of death, evil is able to cause more evil.

As I’ve been learning to wholeheartedly walk in the Way of Christ I have wrestled with what it truly means to live into his words spoken from the mount: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” (Matthew 5:43-44). How can I love my enemies…how can I love those who would seek to harm me or my family…how can I live out this calling from God in my life? Certainly I can face the violence that will come at me with violence – I can use my firearms to protect me, my family, and our property – but am I called to that? Can I truthfully love my neighbor if I carry a weapon for protection?

I have been praying and seeking counsel on how I personally can best respond to the violence that will come my way. My American culture tells me to get a handgun and keep it at my bedside; but is this what’s best for me? I certainly have the right to bear arms and stand my ground, but do I have the right to take another life to preserve my own? Does my life, or my spouse’s life, carry more weight and worth than those who may cause us harm? Can I love my neighbors, my enemies, my persecutors while pointing a gun at them?

The Reign and Way of Christ started with vulnerability: as an infant in a manger. Christ certainly could have come bearing sword and shield but he came to us as an infant refugee instead. Jesus chose non-violence as a way of life, not idly sitting by and allowing violence to happen, but refusing to use violence to get rid of violence. In his life he insisted that he would rather die than kill. He would rather love his enemy than harm them. A life of love has no room for killing; a life of love lays down its ‘rights’; a life of love seeks another way. I can discover and learn non-violent ways to protect my life and the life of those around me while preserving the life of the one who seeks to harm me, and if I die in the midst of this, then I die.

Walking in the Way of Christ has called me to live a transformed life, a life of non-conformity, a life that will make me and those around me uncomfortable, uneasy, unwilling to accept. Walking in the Way of Christ has called me to live a life of sacrifice. I am sacrificing my known way of life – safety behind a firearm – for the unknown of life with no firearms. I am sacrificing my family’s heritage and tradition for the unknown. I am sacrificing relationships for the unknown. But I have discerned that the will of God for me is to lay down my arms because this would please my Creator the most and God’s approval is what would please me the most.

I inherited two firearms: a 20 gauge shotgun and a 30-30 rifle. As these are ‘heirloom’ guns and have meaning for our family I humbly returned them to my dad. While I have treasured these gifts and am beyond honored that he chose them for me, I have been called to live without them in my life. Three other firearms I owned I had disarmed and donated to RawTools – an organization based in Colorado Springs and Philadelphia which lives out Isaiah 2:4 by turning weapons into gardening tools. This organization not only physically reshapes weapons of violence, but they provide outreach to communities across a country steeped in gun violence, teaching non-violence, conflict resolution, and perspectives of peace.

The walk with Christ is difficult and challenging…it forces us to live a life that most others would reject…it forces us to choose between Christ and conformity. I choose the self-sacrificing, non-conforming life because I have hope that it will help realize God’s dream for this world. I choose the self-sacrificing, non-conforming life because I trust that God will sustain me when I’m hungry, will protect me when I’m in danger, will bring peace when there is violence. I choose to lay down my arms and take up the cross because this is the most pleasing, most good, most acceptable, most perfect way I can live my life for the reign of Christ in this world. This is God’s calling on my life.

much love.
sheth.

On the Occasion of the Scattering of My Mother’s Ashes

by ShethSeptember 28, 2022September 28, 2022Christianity / Death / Love / Mother / RelationshipsLeave a Comment

My mother is a saint.
Sainthood requires, among other things, that the person show Christian virtues, like charity and diligence, kindness and patience, moderation and humility. I think we can all testify to the fact that my mom showed these virtues. But more than mere show, she lived them in her daily life. She gave of herself so others could thrive. She cared for the least among us. She succeeded in teaching unteachable subjects to students who were told they’d never get it. She lived her life in the shadows and gave of herself away from the limelight.

My mother is a saint.
Sainthood requires, among other things, that the person have a reputation for holiness. Holy things are regarded as sacred or able to convey a sense of the divine; a reputation for holiness then, means the person lives in such a sacred way that their very being, their very existence communicates God. My mom’s life was such that we all saw Christ – we all knew God was present when she was around because she welcomed the stranger and showed hospitality, she gave love when she didn’t receive it, she ensured all were treated equally.

My mother is a saint.
Sainthood requires, among other things, that the person perform a miracle; my mom was a miracle worker. She fed three hungry men on mere scraps of food, turning a little food into an extravagant feast. She healed scraped knees and bonked heads with a gentle kiss. She cured broken hearts with big hugs and a listening ear. She touched and mended souls. She clothed those around her with compassion. She made a home with plenty of room for all who needed rest. She spent time with and loved those imprisoned in their minds and bodies.

My mother is a saint who knew the broadness of God’s love and the lengths God would go to share that love. My mom knew how deep God’s love could travel and how high that love would reach. My mom would want nothing more than for us to experience that same love – that love that she lived for, that same love that she shared with each of us. My mother is a saint – may each of us be likewise.

Truth: Love in the Waves of Violence

by ShethFebruary 16, 2022February 16, 2022Christianity / Lectionary / Love / Non-Violence / RelationshipsLeave a Comment

(Heads up – this post deals with intimate partner violence and abuse/abusers/victims. Also, my partner has agreed to let me post this and she’s read it ahead of time)

My partner recently wrote a piece about trauma stewardship and how she has been handling her own history of trauma brought to the forefront of her soul by the intimate partner violence heard through our apartment walls. She’s been diligent in confronting the emotions and feelings and I’m so grateful that she’s working with her therapist to both understand and manage them.

But some days are still difficult for her and random actions, sounds, and images can – in a moment – flip the trauma switch for her. She wrote in her post: “…in the midst of remembering my trauma I was journaling and wrote, “I hate that he still has control over me.”” In spite of her very best efforts and countless hours of therapy, this man is still able to haunt her and control her actions, thoughts, and feelings. Though years and miles apart, he still enacts violence on her. It hurts her to know and live this reality and it hurts me to witness her actions and reactions to the ghosts of his violence.

If I’m honest though, it more than hurts me – it angers me. It angers me that his abuse affects our relationship. It angers me that his violence affects our physical contact. It angers me that he has a voice in our relationship, that he controls the direction of our relationship, that he lingers in the corners of our relationship. It angers me that his misguided, mismanaged anger angers me.

The lectionary gospel passage from Luke has Jesus continuing his Sermon on the Plain, focusing this week on loving one’s enemies, doing good to those who hate, blessing those who curse, and praying for those who abuse. It’s a stretch to say that even the kindest and gentlest people find difficulties following Christ’s call in this passage, let alone someone who has directly experienced pain and violence at the hands of others. As I read my Lord’s words I’m confronted with the steep mountain of Christ-likeness I’m called to climb.

While I know that I’m called to scale this mountain and live out forgiveness, redemption, and reconciliation with my enemies – in this case the one who has abused my partner – I really don’t want to. I don’t want to love him or do good to/for him…I don’t want to bless him and pray for him. What I want to do is what he has done to my partner: I want to abuse him. I want to traumatize him. I want to make him suffer as much as he has made her suffer. And that, too, angers me because that’s not who I am called to be: I am not called to reaction, retaliation, and violence – I’m called to response-in-love, forgiveness, and healing; somehow, someway I’m called to both respond in love and flat-out love the one who hurt my partner.

That’s a difficult call to both hear and live into because it’s so counter-intuitive to the ways of the world that I so often witness around me. Violence is countered with violence…abusers are abused…murderers are murdered…an eye for an eye, right? And this call to respond in love is difficult to hear because it feels like I am accepting, allowing, and agreeing with/to his violence. But I don’t want to affirm his actions, I want to condemn them and ensure he never abuses another person. Can I somehow denounce and rebuke his violence – and the violence he’s caused – in a loving, Christ-like way? In the depths of trauma and ripples of violence can I live out Christ’s words found here in the gospel of Luke?

Perhaps I can begin to walk towards love for this man by first choosing to respond rather than react to the ripples of his violence. Perhaps I can love him best right now by resisting the swells of his violence that pervade my and my partner’s life through non-violent means:

by choosing to no longer accept the violence he imposed in my partner’s life nor accepting abuse in the lives of others around me. I choose to continue to stand with my partner in her trauma and refuse to accept any excuse for her ex’s behavior. I choose to stand with other victims of violence and listen to their stories
by choosing to no longer submit to the violence, instead standing against it in any of its forms, both in the life of my partner and in the lives of those around me. I will stand opposed to intimate partner violence and domestic abuse in all its forms and support organizations that provide safe housing for victims
by choosing to no longer seek or enact violence in retaliation or reaction to him or those who act violently towards my partner, myself, and those around me. I refuse to think of doing harm to this man. I refuse to allow violent ideations to control my response to this man. I refuse to allow him to take up space in my brain for violent reasons. Instead, I choose to deny violence in all its forms and remain committed to peace – even with my enemies

I can’t say that I’d be willing to seek him out and offer him a peace offering today, but I can offer him this: I choose to end your violence in my life. I choose my partner and I will walk with her, giving her access to tools to respond to the violence you created in healthy, life-giving ways. I choose to respond in love to your violence by not reacting violently. I choose to respond in love to your actions by doing to you what you couldn’t, by doing to you what you never knew, by doing to you what confuses you most. I choose to pray for you even if I can’t utter a word. I choose to love you even when I can’t. I choose to respond to you in love until you can do it for yourself and those around you.

And to my dearest partner, I choose to remain committed to you, even as the waves of trauma ebb and flow through your life. Never forget that I (and so many others) are right here with you as you navigate these waters. I pray that they will calm, they will lessen, they will fade away.

May we walk in mercy, love, and action all the days of our lives.

much love. sheth.

Fifth Sunday After the Epiphany – Luke 5:1-11

by ShethFebruary 2, 2022Christianity / Essay / Lectionary / LoveLeave a Comment

Jesus has been born, baptized, blessed, baited and began his ministry in Galilee by being rejected by his own townspeople, evading their assassination attempt as he “passed through the midst of them and went on his way” (Luke 4:30). Jesus delivers people from unclean spirits, heals the sick, and teaches in the synagogues – all work fulfilling the Isaiah reading that led to his Nazareth rejection (Isaiah 61:1-2; Luke 4:18-19). Jesus is doing the thing he’s been called to do and the infancy of his ministry has already ruffled many a feather.

Jesus winds up on the shores of the Sea of Galilee with crowds of people surrounding him – so great of a crowd that they were “pressing in on him to hear the word of God” (Luke 5:1). In an effort to alleviate the physical pressure (and perhaps to control the crowd), Jesus climbs into Simon Peter’s boat and requests that the fisherman and his partner row their new passenger out into the shallow waters just off shore. Perhaps out of fear of also being overrun by the crowd, perhaps sensing some power from this man Jesus, Simon does as he is asked and pushes the craft just off shore. The fresh lake waters lap against the side of the boat as birds float overhead and Jesus’ voice, teaching the crowd, rises above the disquiet seaside.

Simon has a literal front-row seat to the teaching, and he hears a message in stark contrast to the ones he’s heard so long from the rabbis in the synagogues. This man speaks good news to the poor and impoverished…this man cries for freedom for the captives…this man opens blinded eyes to Yahweh’s truths…this man claims freedom to the suffering oppressed. These are the words of the prophets of old, those chosen by God to speak for God. These are the words of the priests of old, those chosen by God to pray and sacrifice for the bond between God and creation. These are the words of the kings of old, those chosen by God to serve, protect, and defend God’s people. This man – this Jesus – is declaring the reign of God in the world! His words begin to seep into the deepest depths of Simon’s soul where they kindle the long-since extinguished flame held for Yahweh.

The proclamation comes to a close and Jesus turns to Simon, instructing him to move the boat into deeper waters where Simon and his partner should drop down their nets to catch fish. Simon snaps back to reality; he has believed Jesus’ words up to this moment but knows that fishing here and now will do nothing. He and his partners worked all night without pulling in a single fish…there’s nothing in these deep, overworked waters. But…but something moved him to begin rowing…if his soul could find a spark of hope, perhaps his nets could find a fish or two.

Simon and his partner get to work, letting down their nets into the Galilean waters until they reached the ends of their nets and immediately the side of the boat dipped towards the water. The men, confused, begin to bring in their nets but soon realize the enormity of the catch. They scramble to gain steady footing, using leverage to pull with all their might but their nets begin to give way under the weight of the catch. Holding tightly to their net they cry out to shore for their partners James and John to come to their aid. Simon and his partner – with Jesus at their side – wait, straining against the heavy haul of fish in their nets.

James and John in second boat hurries to Simon’s side where the small company of fishermen work together to bring in the catch – a bounty so great that both ships struggled to stay afloat under the weight of their haul. That fire that had kindled in Simon began to take hold in his soul and he felt equally blessed and troubled by the events that were taking place before him. While incredibly grateful and thankful for this gift from God, Simon’s sinfulness…his unworthiness… his shame struggled within him, bringing him to his knees before Jesus and the fisherman cried out, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

Jesus knelt down and looked Simon in the eyes and had compassion for him. For a long moment they looked at one another and Simon’s sinfulness became engulfed in the flames of hope and promise, belonging and belovedness; he met Jesus in his innermost being where the two embraced. At long last Jesus spoke words of assurance, “There is nothing more to fear. Nothing more. From now on you’ll be fishing for a greater catch, you’ll be fishing for people!” At these words Simon and company had no questions, no reservations whatsoever – they believed.

The men struggled and strained to bring their burdened boats to shore where they told the crowd to take as many fish as they wanted. The men hurriedly cleaned themselves up and abandoned everything they knew to follow Jesus.

—–

The beauty I find in this gospel story is found in Simon’s confession: “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” (Luke 5:8). I love these heartfelt words uttered by Simon because they encapsulate the meeting between humanity and God. When God comes near us we can’t bear to think of even imagining that the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer of all that was, is, and is-to-come would dare approach us. Why would God do such a thing? Why would God come near us when we’ve done everything in our power to dissolve and deny that relationship?

In Simon’s confession we see the incredulity of Jesus’ reaction in spite of Simon’s state of being: in spite of his sinfulness Jesus still gave Simon an overwhelming load of fish. How would Jesus dare do that for a sinner like Simon…like me…like you? How is it that in spite of all our sin, in spite of all our unbelief, in spite of our spitefulness Jesus still chooses to load down our nets with big catches?

And Simon expresses humanity’s reaction to God’s blessing: Go away from me! Don’t you see who I am? Don’t you see how sinful I am? I’m not worthy of your gifts! Each of us has a reason to express these same ‘go away’ words to Jesus. Our life’s history is riddled with moments of sinfulness that have made us feel like we’re unable to be in the very presence of God, let alone receive such a gift.

Our own life’s story might read like a ‘greatest hits’ record of sins but Jesus sees us just as he saw Simon Peter, and Jesus isn’t the least bit surprised because he knows us. Jesus knows our own relationship with Yahweh is much like that of Simon: darkened, cold, lightless and lifeless. Jesus knows our flames of life may have long-since burned out. But he doesn’t give up on us. He steps into our lives, calls us to work, gives us more than we deserve, and on top of all of that Jesus loves us even when we express unworthiness and unbelief.

In this fishing excursion at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry we witness the truth of the gospel: God loves us, God calls us, God blesses us, God invites us into repentance and restoration. God wants to be with us where we are. God wants to love us as we are and pushes us to do better and be better. Praise be that we are chosen, that we are loved, that we are blessed!

much love. sheth.

Truth: Travel Companion

by ShethJuly 27, 2020Christianity / Church / Friends / Home / Love / Relationships / Seminary / Truth TuesdayLeave a Comment

In the morning, Chelsea May and I are leaving Texas, heading north to new locations (undisclosed for a week!) and new, unforeseen adventures. I came to Texas in the wake of Hurricane Harvey to attend seminary, and I’m leaving in the wake of Hurricane Hannah, seminary completed and ready to move into ministry, married to my best friend and heading to new locations and new experiences. It’s more than I ever dreamed of and more than I ever imagined.

When I landed in Austin I wanted to finish seminary and do ministry in a small town; I had no hopes or dreams of dating – let alone marrying – someone. But God is funny, and by the end of our first year of classes I knew Chelsea May was going to be a significant person in my life. While we got along in class, we somehow gravitated toward one another outside of the classroom and we just…kinda stuck together. Going for late night pizzas…seeking ice cream on summer nights…going to church together…grocery store runs…movie nights and late night discussions. Honestly, it’s one of those gross, fairytale, romantic montages from a rom-com that shows up on the Hallmark channel late at night.

And I’m okay with that. I’m okay with the mushiness and the romance and the overly-cute nonsense that we do for one another and with one another. It’s great – it’s what I always wanted and what I need in a relationship. But I’m also okay with hanging out in our sweats and doin’ nothin’ on a Friday night as the cats run around the room like banshees. And I’m okay with the arguments and the ‘serious discussions’ and being grumpy because it’s a Thursday. I’m okay with all of this and all the unknowns, all the mysteries, and all the for-sures because I love her, and she, me.

Charles Schulz says it best for me as she and I rest up before our trip tomorrow: “In life, it’s not where you go, it’s who you travel with.” While I’m confident that the future is unknown and scary and a little worrisome, I’m also confident that when I travel with Chelsea May, I know I’ll be fine. She’s capable. She’s strong. She’s confident. She’s loving. She’s ready. She’s trusting. She can carry my baggage when it’s too much. She can help navigate my dangerous waters. She can lead me when I can’t do it. She can take care of me when I need it most. She can do all the things I can when I simply cannot do them – and she will – because she loves me. And she knows that I’ll do the exact same for her at any moment because I love her.

I’m ready to travel to unknown places and unknown spaces because Chelsea May will be with me every step of the way. I’m ready to travel into these next moments of ministry and life because God is with us both. I’m ready to go because we’ve been sent. I’m ready!

much love. sheth.

Truth: Grackles.

by ShethApril 21, 2020Christianity / Church / Life / Love / Seminary / Truth TuesdayLeave a Comment

I stepped out into the quiet of the early morning, the sun hidden behind a dense fog that had settled low and covered the tops of the buildings around me. The temperature was cool – but not too cool – just right for a peaceful walk through the University of Texas’ campus on that Sunday morning. And, within three seconds, that peace was immediately shattered by the cries of the grackles in the oak tree that stretched out above me.

These birds are loud and annoying, they congregate in large flocks, and they poop so much! Dubbed the ‘unofficial bird’ of Austin, they even have their own Yelp reviews (“…grackles suck and they’re a bunch of noisy, messy bullies” or “great in theory, but in practice…are more problematic that other trash birds”). People either think they’re fun and adorable in their own way, or people want them eliminated from the face of the earth. I fall into the latter group and think the world would be better without these loud and annoying flocks.

Photo: Brad Lewis/Audubon Photography Awards https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/great-tailed-grackle#photo1

I walked under that broad-branched oak tree that morning, drips landing on my shirt and, as I wondered whether it was rain or bird poop, I longed for the small, quiet birds: hummingbirds, robins, chickadees, finches, sparrows. Those birds that sing beautiful songs, or quiet songs, or that don’t sing at all but eat the annoying mosquitoes and gnats. Those birds that build amazing nests and show off their fantastic plumage and break the monotony of the landscape. I prefer those birds that I enjoy most and bring me happiness.

As I went about my walk that morning with the grackles shattering the peace and quiet I had hoped for, my mind drifted to that passage in Matthew 10, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs on your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows” (v 29-31, NRSV).

With a cry from the grackle above me (seriously – they make so much noise), I somehow hoped that Jesus intentionally chose to use a sparrow in this allegory for a reason. I hoped that Jesus was saying “God loves the quiet, peaceful, beautiful and beautifully-singing birds.” I also hoped that, in Jesus supposedly saying this, he was also saying, “God doesn’t love the loud, the brash, the bully, the annoying – like the grackle. God actually forgets about them!” Honestly, I’d rest peacefully knowing that my time in eternity would be spent with the sparrows that I enjoy, and not with the grackles in my life – both bird and human.

The loud grackles who shout their deceptive and misinformed opinions from the branches.
The annoying grackles who ruin the good things in life (and poop on everything…metaphorically).
The grackles who flock together – never welcoming outsiders – because it’s safer and easier.
The grackles that bully others and steal from the vulnerable.

As much as I wish that Jesus would say the things that would make me comfortable, he doesn’t. Because God values both the sparrows and the grackles (and the peacocks and the raptors and the ostriches…and…and…) equally. While I often hope that God would look on with contempt at the people who annoy me, or are rude to me, or seem to ruin all the good things in life, I know better. I know that God looks on…and loves…and cares for them just as much as God looks on, loves, and cares for me.

For God, the sparrows and the grackles are the same – both beloved creations, both tended with grace, mercy, and love, both adored and sought after. And that’s good news, because honestly, we are each a grackle to someone’s sparrow! There will always be grackles in our lives: people we don’t like…people we find messy…people we disagree with…but God loves us all. And we should do our best to do the same.

much love. sheth.

Waters.

by ShethApril 14, 2020Christianity / Love / PoetryLeave a Comment

can you imagine this?

Almost weekly, for almost three years
I have walked, passed that big bowl
of water – dust settled on the surface –
unsure, uncomfortable, uncertain
of its presence I avoid
making contact of any kind
…eye…body…spirit…

fingers to wrists to elbows
diving deep into that bowl
she looked at me but did not stop
as she embraced those words
almost weakly for almost three years
I listened, heard words spoken
near it, about it, in it hands
scooped, sloshed, splashed
frolicking spirits overcome
about that good news –
I and you
– included
in that watery deluge.

can you imagine that?