waiting in an airport

I'm en route to an Atlanta, GA worship gathering on behalf of my synod, and the pilot got sick, so we have an extra long layover before we've even begun. Figured that means it's as good a time as any to blog a bit of thoughts on this morning's readings, even though I won't be preaching (though if I'd known the pilot was going to be ill, I could have still made it work. Oh, well, y'all got to hear another preacher in the pulpit if you made it to worship this morning.)
So, here below is one of the three assigned texts, followed by some thoughts form my tired brain:

Ephesians 2:11-22 (ESV)

Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called ‘the uncircumcision’ by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands - remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, estranged from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near (made ready? check the Greek) by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new person in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.

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Re-membering. It’s a common theme in Scripture. We ask God to remember us. We are commanded to ‘do this to remember me.’ In this Sunday’s reading from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians we are told to remember that we were once not part of this community of faith, that we once did not belong, that we once, like our Jewish ancestors, were a wandering people. Maybe not wandering in a physical wilderness, certainly we have been settled long enough to feel we belong to where we are, and where we are belongs to us, but wandering on a search for meaning and belonging and purpose and a reason greater than ourselves, no?

I have a friend who recently posted very publicly on Facebook that, having looked at the requirements and realities, she can no longer call herself a Christian because she can never live up to the example of Jesus. She knows that Jesus loves her and that God is great, and at the same time she knows she will never be good enough, will never stop making mistakes, will never live a life that follows the example of Jesus as she should. So she does not want to lie by calling herself a Christian if she will not be able to live up to the standards of Christ. (She makes a good Lutheran in that way.) A far better response, thoughtful and honest, than entitlement and hypocrisy, which tends to be the modus operandi of so many who call themselves Christian these days while ignoring or directly contradicting the teachings of Jesus entirely. 

I have an education because my parents worked hard and saved money and invested, and because they are white they got a home loan for a nicer neighborhood without any flack from the lenders. It’s a combination of luck, entitlement, history, effort, and debt, that landed me where I am. If I forget what it took to get me here, not only is that a slap in the face of my second-generation immigrant grandparents who left everything, including their homeland, home culture, and first language (speaking German during the war was such a shameful thing), but it denies me my own heritage and leaves me without roots. If I forget what it took to get me here, and assume life owes me something just for showing up, then I’ve sorely missed the point, painfully missed reality, and completely bought into the lie that I deserve what I have ‘just because.’ I was one of those smart kids in school for whom good grades were easy - when classes were challenging, I enjoyed them more, but then if I didn’t get an ‘A’ I felt like a failure, and it took a long time to get into my head the idea that school was supposed to take work, and that it was okay to try and fail and get up again.

How easily we forget where we came from when we don’t have to struggle so hard to get where we want to be! I don’t like to harp on the Law, on the ways we fall short of God’s ideals for this world, because I think we know well when we hurt others or are hurt ourselves, but I think we still forget how connected we are to one another, how reflexively we fall back on Cain’s question to God, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” But if we don’t realize the Law, how can we know the sweetness of the Gospel? How can we understand how much has been given to us freely unless we remember how little we deserve it? I remember being on a traveling youth ministry music tour when I forgot at one of our sites to pick up all the prepaid phone cards which had been given to our team, so we got to the next location and none of us had the minutes we had waited and asked for, so nobody could call home (this was just a few years before everybody had cell phones - we had one phone for the six-person team). And yet, when it came time to hand out minutes at the next location after all was said and done, I was not punished as I thought I deserved, but we stayed on schedule for who got minutes next. It was pure grace, complete gift, undeserved. A minor thing, to be sure, but to be aware of it was pretty major, especially since I didn’t always get along well with everyone on that team.

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Remember that you once wandered in the wilderness. Remember that you are not your own. Remember that you are not the center of the universe. Remember that you are loved in a way that you can never deserve, or earn, which means also you are loved in a way that you can never lose. Remember that this life is a gift. Remember that the life of the person next to you is also a gift. Remember and be re-membered, be put back together again, be restored to wholeness by being restored to community with your neighbors like grains of wheat scattered in a field, grown, and gathered up again to make the bread we share. Remember that it was life and blood and flesh and death and resurrection that made this all possible. Remember that it was for you, but not only you. Remember, and rejoice.