Belonging with Jesus, and with Our Dogs

Whitehouse Presbyterian had a communion service yesterday evening to welcome five new member to the congregation, and I prepared a sermon, which you are welcome to read.
Mark 3: 31-35 and Psalm 130 were the texts for the service (copied below)

 

We talk often enough about belonging to a church. Whitehouse Presbyterian is an excellent example. We belong also to bowling clubs and book clubs. We belong to our families. But the most important place we can belong is with Jesus. And so in our gospel story, with his biological family standing patiently in the doorway, Jesus issues his invitation to any who would follow him. Come be a part of my family, come and find belonging, with me. This invitation in no way diminishes the bond that Jesus has with his DNA-related mother and little brothers. I hope not. I have an adopted brother, and when we gave him a place to belong, in a family, as a Massey, I do not feel that it diminished or devalued my connection with the rest of my biological family. In fact the opposite, I think Jesus’ invitation acknowledges that part of being human, is a profound need to belong, to be loved as a sister, brother, parent, child. That place of belonging is an invaluable gift, which God promises to provide.

Psychologists have identified this “need to belong” as a universal component of human life. I read an overview of a study that explores this part of our nature, and two things stood out:

1. "People readily form relationships with others without being paid or forced to do so, and do so even under adverse circumstances. For example, infants and children will form attachments to others even though they have little or no knowledge of their social world and are incapable of calculating benefits or costs to these relationships."

I think that this eagerness to be in relationship, before it was a human behavior, was a divine behavior. Exemplified by the trinity, but also felt deeply in our hearts.

2. "When we feel close to others, our thoughts change such that a cognitive “merging” effect occurs; people begin to include aspects of their relationship partner in their own self-concept. The boundaries between individual partners break down in relationships, and people think of their own fate as being intertwined with the fate of others."

When we are in a relationship or a community, we are no longer just ourselves. We cannot help but think of our family and friends as a part of who we are, and God feels the same way about us.

But before I talk about God, let me talk about dogs. Human behaviors and intentions are very complex to talk about and understand. Dogs, not as much. Looking again in the field of psychology, we know that pets can help us find belonging. People with pets are less likely to feel lonely, or rejected, and are more likely to feel socially fulfilled, happy, and healthy. When we are with our pets we know that we are loved, that their love is freely given, and we begin to identify with them. They are ours, and we are theirs.

I had a roommate whose mother trained therapy animals. Dogs, bunnies, ferrets, therapy animals can have demonstrably transformative effects for people young and old with anxiety, depression, autism, and countless other health challenges. Dr. Aubrey Fine, from California, offers a story of a 5-year-old girl who refused to speak to anybody outside her family, and recoiled in fright from strangers. She was afraid to build new friendship, in contrast to the innate urges we have heard about. It was a dog named Puppy that provided the bridge that set the girl and her doctor on the road to recovery. As she was petting the dog, the doctor gave it a signal to move away, and then she explained to the young girl that all she had to do to make the dog come back was to say “Puppy, come here.” So she spoke to the dog, out loud, in front of a stranger, and the dog quickly returned. This incident provided a foundation for treatment; the girl felt the affection of the dog, the warmth of the new relationship, and it gave her the courage to speak, and be open to new friendships.

All of this demonstrates something we already know well. Loneliness is an unnatural-feeling and painful experience for human beings. We need to belong, and to feel loved. Our pets, in all of their simplicity, provide this by simply loving. And the love of God is deeper still, and more transformative. So now we must consider, what does it mean to find belonging with Jesus?

Irish Poet and scholar John O’Donohue, in his book on Celtic Spirituality (Anam Cara), describes the transformative power of love:

“When we love and allow our selves to be loved, we begin more and more to inhabit the kingdom of the eternal. Fear changes into courage, emptiness becomes plenitude and distance becomes intimacy.”

Courage, Plenitude, intimacy, these are the characteristics of life with Christ. We trust in the promise of God’s transformative love, and our souls smile to hear Jesus call us his brothers and sisters.

The psalmist also has great hope in this promise, writing “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord!” we can guess perhaps, out of the depths of loneliness, regret, sinfulness. But, as the writer says, with the Lord there is forgiveness. With the Lord there is steadfast love and the power to redeem. God transports us from the swirling chaos to a place of belonging, which we desperately long for.

Belonging with Christ transforms our hearts with the knowledge that we are loved, but also directs us to follow the will of God. Being a disciple of Jesus is not the price of belonging. We do not purchase God’s love by acting rightly, just as we do not purchase the love of our mothers or our dogs. We care for them and do ask they ask of us because they are part of who we are, and that relationship is part of our identity. I will remind you of the research I mentioned earlier, which tells us that “People readily form relationships with others without being paid or forced to do so.” And “people begin to include aspects of their relationship partner in their own self-concept. The boundaries between individual partners break down in relationships”

We do not talk enough about the tender relationship that Jesus shared with his disciples. First he called them into fellowship with him, and not because they had acted righteously. As far as I can tell they represent a random cross-section of first-century Palestinian Jews. But Jesus wanted to share his life with people, so he brought them close, and made his home with them. He loved his disciples like family and asked them to support him in his ministry. He washed their feet, he told them the truth, and confided in them as he approached the cross. By then, the disciples felt they had no identity apart from Jesus, and the thought of living without him was terrifying to them. And so Jesus promised that the Spirit would enter them and be with them forever, and so thereafter they tirelessly did God’s work with courage, with plenitude, and with intimacy, the hallmarks of a life that belongs with God.

And so we have faith that God loves and forgives readily, with no payment from us. But we recognize that when Jesus calls us into belonging with him, it is not just about enjoying the emotional fulfillment of God’s love. We are with Jesus in joy and eternal life, but we are also with Jesus in his defense of poor and marginalised people; we are with Jesus in his challenge to racist, classist, patriarchal, and imperial power dynamics, we are with Jesus in his boundless forgiveness, in his sacrifice, and we are with Jesus in his affection for the least of these. We belong, with Jesus in God’s kingdom here and now.

 

 

 

Mark 3: 31-35

Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my  brother and sister and mother.”

Psalm 130  

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord,

Lord, hear my voice

Let your ears be attentive

To the voice of my supplications

 If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,

Lord, who could stand?

But there is forgiveness with you,

So that you may be revered.

 I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,

And in his word I hope;

My soul waits for the Lord,

More than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning.

 O Israel, hope in the Lord!

For with the Lord there is steadfast love,

And with him is great power to redeem.

It is he who will redeem Israel from all its iniquities.

Cited:

Anam Cara: Spiritual Wisdom from the Celtic World by John O'Donohue

 

 

Church in the Streets

In my life as a Street Pastor, there may be nothing more gratifying than the silent puzzling looks of teenagers when I tell them that I am not getting paid to wander around parks, shops, and housing estates, talking to anyone who happens to be out. Perhaps we have approached them looking for conversation, or they have approached us looking for the sweets we carry in our official Street Pastors knapsacks, but the line of questioning is almost invariable for those who have never encountered a Street Pastor.

What’s a Street Pastor? What do you do? Do you get paid? Then why do you do it? Are you like the police?

Last weekend I was out with a Street Pastors team in a large housing estate in Newtownabbey, having a conversation that followed almost exactly this template. We explained that we represent the churches in the area, and that we are there to care, listen, and help (the Street Pastors tagline). These particular kids were very young, not quite teenagers. As we spoke to them they sat shivering on a park bench, striving absurdly to defeat their boredom. Elsewhere in the park some older teens were enjoying a bonfire in the woods. We joked around with the kids, learned their names, and calmly counselled them not to push each other off the back of the bench. We urged them to have a good night and left the park.

As we walked along, I noticed a warning issued in spray-paint on the low wall marking the edge of the park: “PSNI stay out.” I would not say that I understand the dynamic between the Police Service of Northern Ireland and the loyalist-Protestant communities of Northern Ireland, but evidently a police officer is persona non grata in that particular park. It is safe to assume that some loyalist paramilitary had made claims on that territory.

But there were no restrictions on Street Pastors. In fact, Street Pastors have generally very little appreciation for boundaries and divisions. We do not identify as Protestants or Catholics, always defying the probing questions of the people we meet. We identify as Christian, and with no particular agenda we go anywhere and talk to anyone. We collaborate with PSNI but we work independently. Accordingly we don’t call them in every time we encounter underage drinking or smell marijuana. Street Pastors listen but don’t judge, offer help when appropriate, and to the best of our ability communicate the love of God to everyone they encounter.

We moved on from the park to a large open space in the midst of the rows of houses. In the center was a wide circular structure built mostly of tires, shipping palettes, and old furniture. On the evening of July 11, the residents of this overwhelmingly Protestant housing estate will set a light to the structure in celebration of their heritage, as they have for many years. I have of course never witnessed this celebration, but I know that attitudes towards the twelfth are very diverse. From enthusiasm to discomfort to terror, all I can say for sure is that the merriment is sometimes, sadly, mingled with sectarian aggression.

A bonfire site for the Twelfth of July. The bonfire is constructed months in advance.

 

So with interest I approached the tower, and the youths who were charged with guarding it until the men took over at midnight. From what I have heard, residents in some places post a 24-hour sentinel at their bonfire site, to avoid premature ignition; for the young guards it is a tremendous honor to be tasked with the protection of the bonfire. They occupied themselves with a broken TV and a small fire they put together in a shopping cart. As I spoke to them, and recalled what I had seen on the wall earlier, it occurred to me that Street Pastors has got it right. This is where the church belongs, on the interface. We move between the police and the paramilitaries. Between Protestants and Catholics. Between old residents and new citizens and immigrants. Even between the Church institution and the folks who feel disenchanted with or rejected by religion. The Church is never a spectator in conflict, but stands in its midst, inviting everyone into relationship, but also unafraid to be an advocate for those who are treated unjustly. On one occasion I literally stood between a police vehicle and a group of teens who felt threatened by the police presence. I will have only a few more outings as a Street Pastor, but this valuable ministry continues, stepping boldly across boundaries, the Church in the streets. Ultimately, we hope, the boundaries will be erased altogether.