Stepping Toward Health

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

For February 20, 2016

Texts:

Daniel 6:1-10

Matthew 15:29-32

I was at Cypress Adventist School yesterday to do chapel. Every Friday morning they give out awards for miles walked by the lower grade students. One of the kids, Andrew—a second grader or maybe he was in third grade—received an award for walking a total of 50 miles!

How cool is that!

Fitness is part of the culture at Cypress School. And it's not just the kids. Mrs. Mittleider told me about 18-mile walks with her husband, pushing a stroller. And near the end of their walk, when the old dog got tired and they were heading uphill, they had to put the dog in the stroller, too.

When I go running around the lake across the street (Green Lake) I often meet church members doing their own circuits: Sellyna and Unique pushing Chloe in the stroller. Elmo or Heather or Ellen running.

One of the essential elements of Adventist spirituality is the cultivation of health.

The cover article of the latest issue of Outside Magazine is “Five Habits of Healthy Living.” The first habit is eating. The author cites the book, Blue Zones, and writes. The Adventists in Loma Linda, CA, “live up to a decade longer than other Americans and rates of heart disease and cancer are more than 60 percent lower. . . . The Adventist diet . . . resembles what your hyperfit yoga and ultrarunning buddies graze on: lots of fruits and vegetables, small amounts of dairy, smaller amounts of meat, and almost zero added sugar.”

The author wonders how the Adventists in Loma Linda manage to pull this off? How do they manage to resist the allure of fast food and junk food that is endemic in Southern California? Adventists do this, the author concludes, by deliberately creating a society that encourages healthy eating. Even the grocery store in Loma Linda supports healthy eating, the author marvels, by not carrying any meat.

Adventist health in Loma Linda, the author concludes, is, at least partially, the result of positive peer pressure, positive social support.

If we imagine that the point of church is to provide fire insurance—to help people avoid hell—the Adventist advocacy of healthy habits seems misplaced. What do healthy habits have to do with avoiding hell? If the great threat facing humanity is burning in hell forever, why worry about little things like disability, pain and early death? If you believe in eternal hell fire, there is a certain logic to this. But, we don't believe in eternal hell fire. Further, this notion that Christianity is all about some eternal future, good or bad, utterly ignores the ministry of Jesus. Jesus was a healer. He eased the troubles of this world. He fed hungry people. He healed sick people. He even brought the dead back to life. Jesus cared about the quality of life we experience here and now.

In the gospel, healing forms the dramatic core of the story of Jesus. Jesus was a preacher, of course. And across the millennia theologians have developed elaborate metaphysical explanations of the meaning of his life and death. Still, when we go back to the actual words of the gospels, Jesus' ministry of healing formed the grand central motif. His words were built a a platform of prodigious healing. Everywhere he went he healed.

When Jesus sent his disciples—the inner circle of twelve men who were his key assistants and apprentices—when Jesus sent them out on missions of their own. Jesus told them to do what he had been doing.

“Go preach.” He told them. “Announce the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick. Cure the lepers. Resurrect the dead. Exorcise the demons. Freely you have received; freely give.” Matthew 10.

The church is the community of Jesus. We are called to live out the mission of Jesus. Central to that mission is the ministry of healing. That's just something we're supposed to do. It's part of our identity.

Part of our ministry of healing is advocacy of healthy habits. Most of us cannot miraculously heal our friends who are sick. We can't all be doctors or nurses or medical technicians. But most of us can cultivate healthy habits. And when we cultivate healthy habits in our lives, we become contagious. We help each other take steps in the direction of optimal health.

Health is not merely an individual thing.

This is demonstrated by what happens here in this neighborhood. Green Lake is a running neighborhood. The Seattle Green Lake Running Group on MeetUp.com has over 5000 members. When I checked their event page yesterday, 97 people had signed up to run around the lake together this morning at seven a.m. Some of those people would run no matter what, but many of them run because other people are running. I run because I read a book about other people who were enjoying running.

This congregation is full of runners. A number of us have run marathons. Some have climbed Mt. Rainier. Some are skiers. We have an entire softball team sitting here every Sabbath. (This is an advertisement. Spring is coming and Ken Fairchild is going to be recruiting.) Every summer, Green Lake Church sponsors a series of Sabbath afternoon hikes ranging from easy strolls to ten mile mountain adventures.

All this movement is contagious. When the tenth or fifteen person tells you about a hike they've taken, you begin thinking maybe I'll take a hike. When you meet other people who walk around Green Lake, you are tempted to think, maybe I could walk around Green Lake.

When several of your friends talk of adopting healthier eating habits, you feel a little social pressure to eat more oranges and fewer donuts.

I've been doing a series of sermons on spiritual disciplines—habits, behaviors we can engage in that consciously bring us into cooperation with God. Behaviors that nourish our souls. One such habit is engaging in behaviors that promote health.

Engaging in habits that promote health is a spiritual practice. It aligns us with the purposes of God. No amount healthy habits will allow us to live forever. All of us get sick. All of us will die. But right now, we are called to live. And healthy habits promotes enjoyment of the life God has given us. Healthy habits nourish the strength we need to serve others.

I was at Starbucks to work on today's sermon. My favorite barista, Sunny, was at the cash register. Another woman, Angie, was waiting the drive through. I said something about seeing both of them on the trail last Sunday. Angie, who is in better shape, said that Sunny was way more regular in her workouts. Which started a conversation about running and fitness.

Sunny had gotten a fit bit or some gizmo like that for Christmas and she had been doing lots of exercise. “I've lost fourteen pounds.” she said with pride. Then added the classic American lament, “But I have a long ways to go.”

She was contrasting her fitness level with that of Angie and me. I protested the comparison was not helpful. I have been running off and on for forty-five years. Sunny has been walking for two months. Obviously, if she compared what she had accomplished in two months with what I had accomplished in 45 years, her accomplishment would appear rather meager. But if she contrasted where she was in November with where she is now, she has made huge leaps in fitness and healthy discipline.

Nearly all of us could imagine some small change we could make in our lives to improve our health. We could park farther from the entrance to stores when we go shopping and walk an extra fifty feet. We could skip the ice cream or eat one scoop instead of two. We could close our computer and leave our desk at lunch time. We could sit in a sweeter, more beautiful place to eat our sandwich. We could eat one more meal a week sitting at our table at home with the entire family. We could go to bed earlier. Drink more water. The options are endless.

One way to view this possibility for improvement, this potential for wise action, is to lament what we haven't done. But I wish we wouldn't do that. I prefer to view it as opportunity. There is still something to do, something to reach for.

I said something off the cuff a few weeks ago that people have said was very helpful. I think it's worth repeating over and over. It applies to health and all the other areas of life where good habits make a big difference: it's better to be inconsistent in doing something than to be consistent in doing nothing. Most of us can think of some ambition, some goal, we could have pursued more faithfully this past week. Oh well. Whatever. That was last week. Now we have this week. Let's aim again at health, at goodness, knowing that God takes great pleasure in the life and efforts of his children.

This coming week, do something to promote health. It will be good for your body and make you a partner with God.

Words

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

Sabbath, February 13, 2016

Eighteen-year-old Shea Glover set out to do a photography project in Chicago. She took pictures of people. When they asked why she wanted to take their picture, she told them, “because you're beautiful.” Their faces lit up. As she continued her project she created an entire portfolio of paired images: A portrait of the person as she first saw them and a portrait of the person after they heard her words, “because you're beautiful.”

The transforming effect of her words is stunning. Yes, the “before” pictures show the magic of the human face. The people are beautiful. But after they heard Glover's words, “you're beautiful” their faces are positively radiant.

See pictures here: 

https://fstoppers.com/documentary/photographer-captures-peoples-reactions-when-told-they-are-beautiful-102444

This is the power of words.

The photographer spoke and it was done.

Which reminds me of the Bible's description of the creative words of God.

The very first story in the Bible pictures the world as a dark, chaotic place. Then God steps close and speaks. “Let there be light.” And light appeared!

As Creation week unfolds, the various acts of creation are pictured as the product of the words of God. “Let there be light.” “Let dry land appear above the restless ocean.” “Let fish swim in the sea.” “Let birds fly in the sky.” “Let critters roam the earth.”

And it was so.

The Psalm we heard in our Old Testament reading echoed this idea:

By the word of the LORD the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth

NLT: He breathed the word, and all the stars were born.

For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm. NIV.

What does God sound like? I googled “voice of God in movies” and found this in Wikipedia:

“In biblical epics and similar movies, God's voice is generally cast to provide a sense of authority. It is deep, resonant, and masculine, and usually the American English of Southern California (sometimes with a touch of British English)”

The article also mentioned Morgan Freeman in the movie Bruce Almighty. And I laughed.

When you imagine the voice of God, what do you hear?

I'm not posing this as a theoretical question. And the answer I'm looking for is not the name of an actor.

The question, what does God sound like, takes us straight to the heart of Christian ethics. We are to mirror God. God's voice is to become the model for our voice.

God's word is creative, healing. It makes beauty. It gives life.

That's also the way our words are supposed to work.

In our New Testament reading, we heard the stern challenge from Jesus:

Unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the religious experts, you are not part of the kingdom of heaven.

What does this mean? What is this exalted righteousness Jesus is mandating?

You know the ancient law: Do not kill. If you kill you will face the judgment.

But I tell you, even if you are merely angry with someone, you are subject to judgment!

You don't have to get to murder. God is watching. Our lives are under scrutiny. Allowing yourself to get ticked off puts you in a danger zone. If you are ticked off, the video camera is activated. You are on film. What are you going to do next? Well, you're probably not going to kill anyone. Most likely, you're going to say something. And if the person you're angry at is not your boss, you're likely to say something. If the person you're angry at is your brother or sister or your child, the words that come out are likely to be sharp and cutting. “You idiot!” Which just happens to be the word Jesus speaks about next:

If you call someone an idiot, you are in danger of being brought before the heavenly court. And if you curse someone, you are in danger of the fires of hell.

Words matter. Spouting harsh words is a damnable offense. Jesus is so emphatic about this, he actually forbids us to engage in any religious practice if we have used damaging words. Coming to church is worthless if during the week our words are ripping and tearing.

So if you are at the temple preparing to offer a sacrifice and there you remember someone has something against you. Stop. Leave your gift there at the altar. God be reconciled with that person. Then come back and complete your religious service.

Exalted righteousness means good words. A righteous person refrains from calling other people names. The speech of a righteous person is life-giving and healing. It has rich creative power like the voice of God in creation.

Let us practice sounding like God.

This is especially crucial if we are parents. The natural reality is that children create God in the image of their parents. The voice of God in our children's head will sound like the voice of mom and dad. So what does God sound like to our kids? Is God full of sharp condemnation? Does God call them stupid or lazy or perverse? Does God frequently sound like he would be happier if the universe did not include your kids?

Does God challenge our kids to pursue excellence? Does God encourage and offer wisdom? Is God's voice sweet? Children doing the crazy things that kids can do is no reason for you to sound like the devil. Cultivate gracious, courteous speech. Of course, there are times when you must speak forcefully and unambiguously. Still, even on those occasions, let us aim to make our words supportive of life.

Our words have enormous impact on how the voice of God sounds in the minds of our kids.

Teenagers, your words matter also. There is some interesting research that shows siblings have enormous impact on each other. The way I talk to my brothers and sisters will have a life-long effect.

The old King James version of the Bible translated our passage: Do not say to your brother, “You fool.” So for generations kids have been forbidden to say the word “fool” to their siblings. When I was a kid the word, “fool,” was essentially taboo. It could not be used. So we called each other “stupid idiots.”

The New Living Translation, captures this disparaging language and forbids it. The rule is “do not disparage another human being. Don't demean each other.” The children of God are challenged to follow the character of their father and use words as agents of creation and healing.

In this political season, we cannot avoid the public implications of the moral dimension of speech. It is immoral to use language that is dismissive and scornful. Political disagreements do not justify reckless speech. Most of us can think of some politician we disagree with who has used language we find offensive. This is true across the political spectrum. But when a particular politician or talk show host becomes famous for reckless speech, we ought to stand boldly against that speech. That kind of language is simply incompatible with life in the kingdom of heaven.

This is not an issue of right versus left or liberal versus conservative. Scornful, dismissive speech is forbidden to Christians. No matter what our political ideology.

In Matthew 12, Jesus returns to the theme of words—good words and bad words.

A good tree bears good fruit. A bad tree bears bad fruit. It's the same with persons: If foul speech comes from your mouth, you have a foul heart. If good speech comes from your mouth, you have a good heart.

This is so certain that in the judgment, God could make a reliable separation by simply sorting people according to their words. You would be saved or damned based on your speech.

Jesus is not creating some arbitrary rule. This is not fine print buried deep in a contract to catch the unsuspecting. Speech comes from the core of our being. Speech reveals the core of our being. When we work on making our speech sweeter, richer, more truthful, more helpful, we are working on real goodness, goodness that will shape the core of our being.

As our words become more kind, more gracious, we are bending our lives in direction of the character of God. We are becoming more competent as partners with God.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Imagine the creative and destructive power respectively of the phrases, “I love you.” “I hate you.”

“I love you” creates life and joy. These words make the universe more beautiful. “I hate you” withers, twists, and kills. These words disorder our world.

I have been talking about spiritual disciplines, habits we can deliberately cultivate that will nourish our soul and help catalyze our participation in the kingdom of heaven. Carefulness with our words is one of those life-giving habits.

Last week at the funeral, someone said to me, “You are supposed to give flowers before people are dead. So I'm going to give you a rose.” Then the person said something kind to me. It made my day. Made my week.

With Valentines upon us, I invite you to think of some of the people who have touched your life with kindness and tell them so. Give them the roses of sweet words, words of appreciation, words of affirmation. Then as we move through the year, deliberately cultivate the habit of speaking sweetly, of speaking encouragement, of speaking the truth, of showing respect even when you disagree.

Let's practice holy words. Let's model our speech after the life-giving, creative words of God.

Staring Suicide in the Face

Twice in two weeks I've stared suicide in the face, keeping company with families, wrestling with theology. 

What to think? What to say? This: 

When a woman was dragged into the presence of Jesus, guilt written all over her life, Jesus refused to condemn her. Instead he bade her live. “Go and sin no more.”

Classic Christianity imagines death bringing us face to face with judgment. We imagine a person having committed suicide arriving in the presence of God, guilt written all over them. And will be the verdict of God? “Live! Go and sin no more.” 

If it were true (and it is not) . . . If it were true that God would add to the torture that drove a person to suicide, the final torture of damnation, what kind of god would that be? And if you could bring yourself to worship such a god, what kind of person would you be?

According to the stories in the Gospel, every time people whose lives had been taken over by the forces of evil encountered Jesus they reacted with fear and hostility. No demoniac ever asked for help. They were, to all outward appearances, faithless and hopeless. And in ever encounter, Jesus resurrected them. He brought them back to hope and faith and life. Every time.

Suicide happens when pain has become insuperable and hope for relief has become impossible. Suicide is the triumph of pain. There is “good pain,” of course. Athletes push through pain to victory. Mothers endure pain to give birth. We accept the pain of medical procedures hoping for healing. But “good pain” is temporary. There are limits to what we can endure before turning away or passing out.

Suicide happens pain has become unbearable and appears to be irremediable and unending. The pain becomes so great or persists for so long it crushes our ability to stand. Suicide is a collapse of strength. A crumbling of hope. 

How would you respond if you watched your own son collapse in the middle of a long, secret effort? Or if your own daughter resisted wave after wave of despair, then one day she could not see beyond the eternal, battering surf and for a moment dropped her head and surrendered to the waves, would you condemn her?

And are you really nicer than God? Are you more compassionate than Jesus?

Paul writes that everyone who enters eternal life will have been supernaturally changed—healed, mended, perfected, fixed. And would not part of this healing include the restoration of the capacity to hope? Would it not include an invitation to experience life untormented by unbearable, unending pain? 

In the face of suicide, let's not offer each other the meager hope of vague statements that God somehow, maybe, possibly, might find a bit of mercy. Instead, let us know with confidence that suicide does nothing that resurrection will not undo. Let us recall the response of Jesus to people so overwhelmed with the torments of evil that they could only writhe in pain and bark hostility. Jesus welcomed them, healed them, restored them to life. If that is how Jesus responded to those lost souls, how much more certain it is that our precious ones who have been hounded to suicide will be welcomed and healed by Jesus. Their collapse is not the final act. God will have the last word: Go. Live.   

Acts of Kindness

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church, Sabbath, February 6, 2016

Texts: 1 Kings 19:1-8 and Matthew 7:7-14

Katrina gave me a book for Christmas: Humans of New York. It's a collection of portraits and very short stories. One picture that calls me back repeatedly shows a man with one weird eye. It's not obvious to me just what is wrong with his eye, but clearly it's “different.”

Here is the story that goes with the photo:

I had just lost the sight in my right eye. It was terribly disorienting. It was hard to walk. I bumped into things. I bumped into a girl out in front of an ice cream shop and knocked her ice cream cone to the sidewalk.

She hollered at me. “What? Are you blind or something?”

I felt really bad. I'm sorry, I said. Really sorry. Actually I am blind. I didn't mean to bump into you. Let me buy you another cone.

Then she was sorry for hollering at me and protested, “No. That's all right. You don't have to.”

We walked into the shop and she ordered her cone.

“I heard the whole thing.” the clerk said. “Ice cream is free.”

Stuff happens in this world. People go blind. People bump into each other and ice cream cones get knocked to the ground. People misunderstand and get angry and holler. That's life. That's plain, ordinary, regular vanilla life. That's the way it goes.

Then someone apologizes and explains. Ah, that makes things better.

Then someone offers to buy a replacement cone. That makes things even better. It brings life back to even.

Then someone offers free ice cream and the universe is better than it was before. Not just better than it was when the cone flew out of her hand and hit the sidewalk. Better than when she bought the cone. Better than when she had her first lick.

That act of kindness by the shop clerk made the universe better than when she first imagined the pleasure of an ice cream cone.

The apology was sincere, certainly. But it was also required. If the blind man had failed to apologize he would have been a jerk. Sure, he didn't mean to bump into the girl with the cone. Still, he did. He owed her something. He owed her an apology.

And he owed her more. He owed her a replacement for her lost ice cream. So he did the right thing and brought his little piece of the universe back to even.

Then the shopkeeper offered free ice cream. It was not an obligation. He owed neither the girl nor the blind man. It was a gift. It was a pure act of kindness.

And the entire universe was made a little better, a little sweeter, a little more beautiful. That shopkeeper was cooperating in the deepest desire of God.

One of the most famous passages in the teachings of Jesus was featured in our New Testament reading this morning.

Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened for you. Everyone who asks receives. The one who seeks will find. For the person who knocks, the door will be opened.

These are wildly optimistic words. What was Jesus thinking? He went on to explain the basis for this hopeful declaration.

What mom or dad among you, if the kids ask for bread will instead give them a stone? And if your kids asks for a salmon, will you give them a rattlesnake?

If you, ordinary mortals with the ordinary frailties and dysfunctions of humanity—if you know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good things to those who ask?

If you want to understand God look into your own heart as a parent. What would you not do for your kids? Just this week I was visiting with a couple of single guys. We were talking theology—what is God like. I suggested they imagine God as the father they wished they had had. “Don't imagine God as your father,” I said. “Imagine God as the father you would aim to be if you had kids.” Their faces lit up. They are good men. They know the kind of dads they would aim to be.

And that is what God is like. God delights in doing good for his children.

Because that is what God is like, Jesus argues, that is what you should be like. Since God is so generous and kind, you, too, should be generous and kind. What does this divine kindness look like?

Therefore whatever you wish people would do for you, that is what you should do for them. This is the moral core of everything the ancient prophets have written.

We are to do for others what we wish they would do for us because that is what God is like. God is generous. God delights in doing good for his children. And God is highly pleased when we do good for his children. When we practice acts of kindness we are bringing great pleasure to the heart of God. And when we have come to know God deeply, we take pleasure with God in doing acts of kindness. We know the pleasure of God in our own pleasure in doing good.

Be kind.

I am not talking about grand, heroic actions. I'm not talking about running into burning buildings. I'm not talking about tackling a gunman. I'm talking about cultivating the habit of doing little acts of kindness.

Karin often prays in the morning, asking God to show her someone that needs a kindness that day. And, she tells me, it seems that when she prays that prayer, opportunities present themselves.

A driver ends up in the wrong lane and needs someone to all him to turn across two lanes to get where he needs to go.

Someone in front of you in the grocery line is a few dollars short and is trying to figure out which item can wait for another day.

The woman waiting your table today at lunch is working Saturdays only because her kid is sick and her insurance deductible is more than she makes in a month. So she's working extra shifts. And you double or triple her tip. It won't break your budget. You won't even remember doing it. But she will.

We can cultivate an eye for opportunities to perform small acts of kindness. And in so doing enter a deeper, richer communion with God.

Jesus does not stop with simply directing us to show kindness. He warns against failing to show kindness.

Go through the narrow gate. Wide is the gate and broad the path that heads toward destruction. Hordes of people rush that direction. But narrow is the gate and skinny the path that leads to life. Only the elite find it.

What does it mean to be a Christian, to live the Christ life? It means to do to others as you would have them do to you. It means to speak of others as you would have them speak of you.

It means ultimately joining God in regarding every human as kin.

We show kindness—the obligation of kinship—to every human. And as we do, we find ourselves partnering with God.

Our Old Testament reading today recounted a favorite story.

The prophet Elijah had done a heroic, daring exploit for God. The next day was payback time. Wicked Queen Jezebel was going to kill him. So he ran for his life. A couple of days into the run, he finally runs out of gas. He lies down exhausted physically, utterly spent emotionally.

He prays, “God let me die” and sinks into a deep sleep.

Sometime later, an angel wakes him up. To his astonishment, Elijah sees some food cooking over a fire and a jug of water. He eats the food, drains the jug of water and collapses back into sleep.

Hours later, an angel wakes him again. And again there is food on the campfire and water in a jug.

Elijah eats and drinks.

And in the strength of that food continues his run.

Kindness.

Years ago I read a book by a guy named Peter Jenkins, called Walk Across America. Fairly early in his walk he was in West Virginia or in the mountains of Virginia. He had gotten sick. It was cold and raining. He was miserable and exhausted. He was walking up a hill that went forever. And ever and ever. He was hungry. He was out of food and could hardly wait to get to the next town to resupply.

A car came up beside him. The driver rolled down his window and greeted him. And offered him a ride. Peter writes how tempting it was. He could see the warm air wafting out of the window. He could see the happy, comfortable people in the car. But the whole point of the project was to walk all the way. If he took this ride, why not just take rides the whole way. He had to say no. But it was hard. Finally, he thanked the driver and said no thanks.

The van started up got a hundred yards up the road and then stopped and backed up. When he came even with Peter the driver rolled down his window again and extended his arm. In his hand a big apple.

Peter took the apple. The car drove off.

Peter took a bite of the apple. It was heaven.

Peter writes how that simple act transformed that afternoon. It became a metaphor for the kindness he encountered over and over and over again as he hiked 4000 miles down the east coast then west across America.

It wasn't much in the great scheme of things. It was an apple. But that cold, hungry day on a lonely mountain road in Virginia it gave his legs and his soul new wings.

A simple act of kindness.

God give us the wisdom and the initiative to show kindness this week.

Still Our Son

I was called to the hospital by the chaplain's office. An Adventist family from far away was requesting an Adventist pastor. At the hospital, the chaplain gave me some details, and I headed to the ICU.

I met Dad and Mom and some friends of the patient. Dad gave me the barest details. Son had arrested five days earlier. The prognosis was grim. A miracle was the only hope. Would I be able to call an elder and perform an anointing. Yes, of course, I could.

Naturally, I asked questions. And learned almost nothing that I couldn't already see. The patient on life support was too young to die and too far gone not to. I searched for more, looking to add humanity to the body at the center of the machines. But Dad couldn't bring himself to say the story out loud. He did manage to tell me his son's profession. But even that was offered reluctantly. Was it because the son's profession was somehow linked with the other details? His departure from church years ago. The irreligious identities of the young people gathered in the room keeping vigil. None of this could be spoken because it seemed to lead directly to the darkest, most horrific truth : suicide. The patient had deliberately overdosed. 

Dad's religion had a category for "former Adventists" and suicides: Lost. Damned. "Not my people." I imagined Dad worrying how would this strange clergy respond to the horrible truth. Better to just leave it as a medical emergency. Standing there I longed to assure Dad that this young man was still "our son." Dad's son, yes, of course. And God's son. And therefore, the church's son. My son. The tragedy that brought us together did not break the family. Could not break the family. He's still our son.

We casually develop our theories of damnation by imagining people we don't know, human monsters--Hitler, Stalin, Jeffry Dahmer, Jezebel. We imagine humanity neatly divided into two groups: those who choose God and goodness and those who choose evil. We see people standing in the judgment as autonomous individuals. I think our opinions might change if we saw that every person remains forever a son or daughter. If we have not yet figured out which of our kids or grandkids we would burn, why do we so easily (and sometimes glibly) imagine God burning his kids.