Nehemiah 1:11c

"At the time, I was cupbearer to the king." (Nehemiah 1:11c)

This week, I’ve been sitting with this line. It comes as the tail end of the first chapter of Nehemiah. It seems like a passing comment. Maybe it is. But there is a whole complexity of opportunity, limitation, hope and anxiety all loaded into this sentence. A sentence that Biblical scholars didn’t deem worthy of its own verse number.

We are prone to follow after the sentiment of our day (of some at least) that we can be, do, achieve whatever we want. Whatever we set our minds to. That this is a patently false statement is widely attested by nearly any study touching upon this question. We are the product of so many powerful forces, which all interact with family dynamics, whatever tendencies our DNA lends to us, the place and time in which we are born. Some factors which have more influence on you than you may think are: how many words you heard as a small child, your parents’ economic status, and how you played (and/or were allowed or encouraged to) as a child.

Nehemiah’s story, and the story of the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem are powerfully impacted by this statement.

Nehemiah’s role as cupbearer to the king tells us that he had a place of some importance and trust. This gave him access to the king in a way few others (especially Jews) had in his day. That access and trust certainly laid an important foundation for the support he would receive from the king. At the same time, however, this role closely aligned him with the empire. This would create some challenge when he sought to return and connect with the Jews living in Jerusalem.  And it no doubt impacted him in many ways which are not apparent to us. Both good and bad.

We are the same. At any given time, the role, place, identity we have offers both opportunity and challenge. And we can be tempted to focus on comparing ourselves rather than assessing both opportunity and challenge (or, perhaps, focusing on challenge).

In March 1955, a young, unmarried and pregnant woman named Claudette Colvin, was arrested for resisting bus segregation in Montgomery. Though considered as a cause to force the issue of segregation, local African-American organizers felt this was not the case to force the issue. Nine months later, Rosa Parks resisted segregation on a bus, leading to a massive movement that is often hailed as a landmark movement in the history of the Civil Rights movement.

A young pastor had become pastor of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church the previous year. In March of 1955, he was pastoring there as well as finishing his doctoral studies at Boston University. By December, when organizers in Montgomery were galvanized by Rosa Parks’ act of defiance to bus segregation, King was selected as the primary spokesperson for the action. He quickly rose to prominence and today remains one of the best-known leaders of the Civil Rights Movement.

Some have suggested that the delay from the experience of Colvin to Parks opened a door for King. However those familiar with this situation might conclude, indeed sometimes small facts of our identities, role and timing are incredibly determinative for our lives.

All this forces me to look at who I am and where I find myself now. Not comparing myself to others (I do this sometimes, and it is pretty much always demoralizing). But the place you find yourself now is a place God can use you. How God uses you, and what God uses you for, well, you may have no idea now. But we are all, each of us, part of a story bigger than ourselves. We have meaningful choices to make, but those choices are conditioned by forces far beyond our control. Indeed, much as we might like to think the opposite, much of life is beyond our control. But we have much influence over how we function in this time, space and place. We are called to do so in a way that opens us to God’s guidance and call.

Take a couple minutes, and try this exercise: make a list of all the roles, titles, positions you are/have right now. Son or daughter. Friend. Pastor. Church member. Teacher. Neighbor. Board member. Recovering addict. Then, think about what opportunities and challenges these might present. What gifts have you received to have these roles? What challenges do these present, either to you personally, or your desire to push towards some goal or call upon your life?

"At the time, I was cupbearer to the king."

What will your story say about who you were at precisely that point where God was able to use you most powerfully?

On Nehemiah 1:4-11a

So we’ve started in Nehemiah. And we started with the truth. The hard, not-pretty truth. But it’s where we have to start.

But of course, the story doesn’t end there. It’s God’s story, right? So we go right from brokenness to healing, right?

Nope. Not even a little.

Nehemiah then writes, “When I heard these words I sat down and wept, and mourned for days, fasting and praying before the God of heaven.”

He goes on to tell us what he prayed. Here’s my paraphrase: “God, you keep your promises. We sinned. Don’t forget, though, that you said we would suffer if we sinned, but you would still have us back if we would just get back on your agenda. Let’s get to that. Today.”

And not only that, Nehemiah recalls that the promise was that God would restore God’s people, “to the place at which I [God] have chosen to establish my name.”

Several years ago, I was speaking with a woman whose nephew had suffered a tragic accident while at college that left him brain dead. As the days passed and doctors tried to fully assess his condition and his parents and family prayed and tried to process what to do, the woman told me of a hospital chaplain who visited with the family. The chaplain asked this woman, the boy’s aunt, how she was doing. She quite honestly explained she was angry at God. The chaplain’s response? That she shouldn’t be angry at God.

I literally felt my hackles getting up (I don’t know what hackles are, but they were getting up, as they say).

I’d like to see that chaplain tell that to, well, any of the writers in Scripture. Job has a careful theological reflection on being angry at God, though it can still leave many questions. But you know what the Biblical writers did? They got angry at God. Why? Because surely someone was to blame. And when you’re in the throes of pain, that’s a poor time to try to become a theologian.

Theology is important. Terribly important. It matters what we say and believe about God, partly because when push comes to shove, it’s the theology (the thinking and understanding we have of God) that we cultivate in the calm times that is refined and tried in the challenging ones. That helps us know who God is and where our hope and faith is. Well, at least it has been that way for me.

But those first few minutes, hours and days as we experience or process some significant pain or loss, we often lack the resources for disciplined theological reflection. We cry out in the same way a small child does, for our parent. And often in crying out, we lash out.

God is God. God has seen it before. Our own awesomeness, eloquence and ferocity aside, God has seen it all. God can take it. While harm can be done by carrying anger towards God, I have also seen great pain in people’s lives when they have felt they cannot be honest with God.

I think of it this way: Some marriages (indeed, this is true of any relationship) have indeed broken down because of intense fights and anger. But far, far more have broken down because one or both people stopped talking. Gave up. Were no longer willing to engage in the hard work of talking through, being honest, being gracious, and yes, even naming the pain and hurt.

It is silence, in its passive-aggressive, not-peace-but-not-war, I-don’t-care-enough-to-fight-anymore that breaks more hearts and relationships, I think, than anything.

So too with our relationship with God. It seems to me far better to cry out, even in anger, to God, than to stop talking. To be invested enough to keep a foot in the relationship.

There is a time for the important work of reflecting on the brokenness of creation, the nature of sin, the human need for God’s grace. But sometimes we just need to cry. Sometimes we just need to be angry.

And that is ok.

We just cannot stay there.

But it is where Nehemiah is today. He’s heard the truth. And he’s crying out. His words are not nearly as angry and broken towards God as some (check out Lamentations, especially chapter three, if you really want someone to just hang with you in misery).

Nehemiah’s words are, of course, true for where he’s at. And don’t forget we worship a God who meets us where we are.

So stop pretending. Stop trying to be someone you’re not. You don’t have to put on a brave or happy face. Just name where you are. Like the power of naming the brokenness, there is great power in naming where we are.

Just always remember, this is not the end point, but the beginning. It is where God comes to us. And the God who has brought us this far, will not leave us in that place.

On Nehemiah and the New Year

I’ve been pondering this blog for a while. While I’ve always aspired to be more regular in my writing here (and never managed to actually do so), the past year has been particularly challenging. After getting through 2013, a year we lost both my father and grandfather, I ached for 2014 to be calmer. But that was not to be.

2014 started as the year I would likely receive a new appointment. After 4 ½ years at Calvary UMC in Frederick as associate pastor, I had asked for a move. Leaving the people at Calvary was incredibly sad for me and our family, but five years as an associate is a long time, well, for all but the most sainted among us. We received word I would become pastor at Arden UMC outside of Martinsburg. We were excited, but also knew the process to settle into a new congregation is challenging.

But perhaps more than anything else, 2014 was a difficult year because of my brother Dan’s suicide. I still reflect on this. I probably always will. Today, as I drove away from a meeting of the Board of Ordained Ministry and thought ahead to next week and the Full Member Exam, I remembered Dan a year ago at that very exam. I remember how excited he was going into it. And I remember the painful wait as I knew his results but couldn’t tell him. And I remember talking to him that day, the day he found out. I remember so much. But I don’t know where it all went wrong. Where it all came off the rails.

At any rate, I haven’t wanted to just write this blog about Dan. Sometimes Dan (his life, his experience as a pastor, his suicide, and how much I’ve realized I didn’t know) is all I want to talk and write about. Other times, I don’t want to think about it at all. I want it to have never happened, and since I cannot turn back time, the next best thing seems to be to set it aside for a time. To not think about it. To find a way to carve out at least part of life that doesn’t bring constant opportunities to remember and think, “What if…?”

I’ve also wanted to find a new path into scripture this year. I have tried various daily devotionals. I have a four year old and a one year old. I need fast and easy tools to do just about anything. I envy my colleagues whose devotional and prayer life reaches the heights I think befit a pastor. Many days, though, I’m just trying to figure out how to stay on top of work tasks, reach out to the people who need care, deal with the challenges of the day, not (in light of all that) be impatient when my four year old wants to play dress up before bed, or my one year old just wants to be held when she gets home from daycare, even though I also really just want to share my day with my husband and get his reminder that it’s all going to work out somehow. That God isn’t done with us all, and our chaos and mess yet.

Tonight, as I pulled out a t-shirt to try to exchange the pressures of the day for the evening, I reached for the t-shirt I got when I travelled to New Orleans with a team from Jefferson UMC, my first appointment. On it is a quote from Nehemiah, “Come let us rebuild…”

That’s where I’m at. So…I’m going to hang out with Nehemiah for a while. I’m not going to promise to post daily. But I’m going to sit with Nehemiah s 2015 starts, and I promise to share thoughts here. I hope that if you haven’t decided how you’re going to delve into scripture this year, you’ll find what works for you as well—whether reading through the Bible, one book, a daily devotional. As I’ve learned, there’s simply too much going on to NOT take the time. And let’s be honest, you have to make the time—it won’t fall into your lap.

Here’s the beginning of Nehemiah:

1 The words of Nehemiah son of Hacaliah. In the month of Chislev, in the twentieth year, while I was in Susa the capital, 2 one of my brothers, Hanani, came with certain men from Judah; and I asked them about the Jews that survived, those who had escaped the captivity, and about Jerusalem. 3 They replied, “The survivors there in the province who escaped captivity are in great trouble and shame; the wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been destroyed by fire.”

So here, we see, things are off to a bad start. Nehemiah is in Susa (so, in exile). He starts in a place that isn’t home. And yet, it’s the only home he’s ever known.  He’s got some sense of that home, because he has interest in Judah, and the Jews left behind there. So we know he hasn’t become to completely wrapped into the exile that he’s stopped caring. That’s a start. He’s in the wrong place, but has some sense there’s something different, maybe better (or worse).

Their report?

Not good: “The survivors there in the province who escaped captivity are in great trouble and shame; the wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been destroyed by fire.”

What’s left is in ruins. Years have passed, and it’s all still in ruins.

Here’s the thing that stand out to me about this – partly because I know how the story ends – the story starts with the truth. With, “Look, here’s the thing…”

 No whitewashing. No avoiding. No “Well, there’s a lot of good that can be said…” Honesty about the brokenness. There’s an immense power in that. Healing and hope must be built upon honesty and seeing things as they really are. I can tell you one of the most destructive things to a life, church, family or community is an unwillingness to be honest with each other, or to be honest about what is broken.

So we start here. With the truth. The dirty, nasty, unpleasant truth. This is where God needs us to be. It is a hard place to be. We would like to hear gentler things. Things we can hear and stay where we are. But that’s not what Nehemiah’s story is. It is not a story of staying put. And thank God for that! But it has to start with honesty, clarity, and the courage to tell the truth.

Not a bad place for any of us to start 2015.