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A few years ago I led a small group of 10 married men, that met weekly to talk about faith, family, and the meaning of life. One time, when our discussion had gotten focused on conflict at home, I asked the guys, “When was the last time you said to your spouse, “I’m sorry” ? It was 9:00am and we’d all said sorry to our spouses already that day. One guy said, grinning but totally serious, “I’ve told my wife I was sorry 8 times today, including once before I got up from bed!” These men were apologizing for everything – from interrupting in conversation, to forgetting tasks and errands, to getting mad – they all reported a feeling of being judged for having said or done something wrong, and reflexively saying they were sorry. We commiserated with a bunch of jokes and laughter. But then I asked the group, “When was the last time you said to your spouse, “I was wrong. Please forgive me.” ? And the room was silent. None of the men could recall having said these words or their equivalent in months or years. There was a vague sense that this is something they would say, and that there are lots of times when asking for forgiveness would be the right thing to do. But they couldn’t actually call to mind specific instances when they had done so in recent memory. We pondered this surprising realization for quite a while as a group. Obviously, life is full of moments when a casual apology is just right – like when you spill coffee on somebody’s stuff. And for the more serious stuff, without a doubt, the words, “I’m sorry” are necessary when you’re trying to move forward in your relationship after you've been wrong. But in our group that morning, we reflected on how often a certain kind of apology functions as a defense mechanism in our lives. We raise it up like a shield to protect us from the pain of having to face our weakness and failure. If possible, we deflect criticism with it – let me say I’m sorry as quickly as possible, so I can move on from this unpleasant moment, without feeling too much guilt or self-doubt. We acknowledged that we each have practiced SELFISH APOLOGY, using the word ‘sorry’ to cut off dialogue with our spouses when there was something important we really needed to talk about. And we realized together how often we’ve saved today's apologies like a tool (or a weapon) for a future argument, for whenever we might need to justify ourselves – “I said I was sorry!” We admitted to ourselves that many of the times when we say we're sorry, we’re actually more concerned with our own needs and our own insecurity, than we are thinking about the love, compassion, and honesty we have pledged to our spouses, and to God. And we noted how unsatisfying it feels when the tables are turned, and we’re on the receiving end of a selfishly-motivated apology, if there’s something important and hurtful that we really need to talk about. Now let’s consider the contrast, when a true, heartfelt apology is called for, if instead of simply offering a rushed, defensive, “I’m sorry,” you say, “I was wrong, please forgive me.” If you say, “I was wrong,” and you don’t try to escape the conversation, you don’t immediately jump to some excuse or rationalization for your behavior, and you don’t skip ahead to explaining how you’re going to do better next time, then you are giving up the protection of a casual apology. And if you then say, “Please forgive me,” you’re relinquishing any self-serving agenda you might otherwise have had, altogether. There’s no, “I was wrong, BUT… “ No saving face, nothing to protect your ego. You’re making a decision, that the most important thing in this situation is not your ability to justify yourself, or to point out the flaws of the other person, or to escape the pain of knowing that you don’t always act like the kind of person you want to be. You’re deciding instead, that your first priority is to communicate to another person that you care about how your choices have affected him or her. No excuses, no defensiveness, only love, from a flawed but healing soul. This is the first step in truly making amends, and it's crucial to relationships that endure. Of course, to own one's mistakes and not run away, is to allow oneself to be quite vulnerable. It's scary and it's painful, but love is worth it. Questions for us all to reflect upon: When you think of how much you love someone who is dear to you, the thought that you are capable of saying or doing something deeply hurtful to them is profoundly troubling. But since you can and have caused them hurt at times, and since you love them so much, what kinds of words of apology and repentance and healing could you speak in the minutes and days and seasons to come, that will be worthy of this love? When someone you love does wrong by you, makes choices that cut you to the core, what could they say that would help you know that they truly understand the impact of what they did, and that your hurt truly matters to them, and that they care more about your healing than their pride? The Table is a Christian Church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: from greed toward generosity from violence toward peacemaking from isolation toward neighborliness from fear toward faith Worship Sundays, 5pm 102 E. 2nd St. Davenport #forgiveness #apology #repentance #pride

Several years ago, a person I had been very close friends with did something extremely hurtful, and it changed our relationship forever. In the years since, I’ve wondered if he was being cruel, or just clueless, but either way, the thing that happened ended our friendship. Generally speaking, this guy is a kind and decent person, and we really had been good friends for years. You might ask why I couldn’t or wouldn’t forgive him. And that’s the thing. I have forgiven him. It took me a couple years, but in the span of a life, that’s not too long. At some point I decided to actively forgive, and while making that commitment didn’t feel like flipping a switch with immediate results, I eventually realized that I wasn’t angry and didn’t hold anything against him. Not only that, I realized that I actively want him to have a good life, and to be happy. I’ve let go of the hurt and fully moved on. I even saw this person recently, and we talked for a little while, and it was good. But we’re not friends. Our friendship was destroyed by the thing that happened. It’s a sad fact, but one I have accepted. Sometimes a relationship cannot be saved, even when there is forgiveness. This is a critical truth to remember when you are grappling with the work of forgiving someone. You might have a desire to forgive, and maybe you’ve got a particular bible verse ringing in your head, commanding you to do so, but the thought of continuing in the relationship pattern that you’ve been in, or going back to a toxic situation feels impossible. So forgiveness feels impossible. But forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation. Sometimes you can forgive, but you can’t (or shouldn't) reconcile. Now let’s be clear: Forgiveness is necessary for reconciliation. Wounded relationships cannot heal without forgiveness. Long-term friendships and partnerships cannot survive without a robust practice of forgiveness on the part of everyone. But reconciling with someone after real harm has been done is a long and serious process. It’s very often worth the effort, and it leads to new trust and wisdom and hope for the future. Yet sometimes reconciliation is not possible, and because of what happened, the relationship is over. In this case, forgiveness is not part of healing what went wrong between two people. It’s simply the work of releasing burdens of resentment, bitterness or hatred that need to be let go. It’s a choice on the part of the forgiver, not to dedicate any more personal energy to wrath, and to not let the hurt they endured determine the rest of their life. There’s real freedom, here. If you choose to forgive, you’re not accepting what happened as okay; You’re not signing up for continued mistreatment; you’re not forgetting or minimizing the wrong; and you’re not obligated to make up with anybody. You can forgive someone irrespective of what the future holds for your relationship. And when you do, I think you’ll agree that holding grace in that place in your heart feels a whole lot better than holding malice. The Table is a Christian Church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: from greed toward generosity from violence toward peacemaking from isolation toward neighborliness from fear toward faith Worship Sundays, 5pm 102 E. 2nd St. Davenport Iowa

Broadly speaking, forgiveness is held up as essential to a good life. It’s a virtue. It’s something decent people do. In practice, in real life, forgiveness is much more of a puzzle, and a much heavier lift. When a person does real harm to another, when there are dire consequences to someone’s words and actions, discerning just how to move forward with grace and healing is not a simple matter. Revenge would be simple; forgiveness… not so much. Many people say forgiving someone is an independent, unilateral decision that a wounded party makes of their own prerogative, for their own well-being. It doesn’t depend on whether the person who was in the wrong tries to make amends, or even acknowledges that they did anything bad. In extreme cases, an evil-doer may delight in the harm they have done, and a person hurt by their actions will still choose a spirit of forgiveness, in order to save themselves, to keep from descending into hatred, and to break the hold that the evil actions might have on their lives. This is the approach of one woman who famously forgave Dylann Roof after he murdered her family member and 8 others at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC in 2015. Her choice may have made no impact on the hate-filled white supremacist, but it is central to her emotional survival of the tragedy. I have known many people who could not abide this understanding of forgiveness. The idea of forgiving without remorse, contrition, or restitution is crazy to many people. A friend mine who endured decades of workplace discrimination could not forgive the choices her boss made, knowing the negative consequences it had for her career. She’d considered him a mentor and friend, and when he acknowledged the discrimination but refused to address it, it was an enduring thorn of betrayal in her life that she could not escape. Another friend survived years of sexual abuse as a child. His abusers never acknowledged the evil of their actions, never apologized, never expressed any concern for the pain he had lived with. He has readily forgiven many people for many things in his life, but the idea of forgiving his abusers elicits a bitter scoff from him. If there's never any attempt to make things right, how could he ever forgive? The next four Sundays at The Table, we are going to deeply and seriously examine the central Christian theme of Forgiveness. We will avoid foregone conclusions about when, how and why forgiveness is the right path for faithful people to choose. We will share our stories and our struggles, and we will grapple with how the ethics of Christianity and the example of Christ should guide us through the most difficult experiences life presents. Easy answers are not guaranteed in these gatherings, but grace and love will be there, for sure. It’s a promise from God. See you soon. 1/13 Part 1: What is forgiveness, actually? 1/20 Part 2: Forgiving Others 1/27 Part 3: Receiving Forgiveness (or forgiving ourselves) 2/3 Part 4: God’s Forgiveness The Table is a Christian church in Davenport Iowa, pursuing transformation: from greed toward generosity from violence toward peacemaking from isolation toward neighborliness from fear toward faith Worship Sundays, 5pm 102 E. 2nd St. in Davenport

When the angel Gabriel told Mary she would have a baby, he said, ““You will bear a son, and name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called Son of the Most High… his kingdom will have no end.” Christians embrace and repeat this claim about Jesus - that he is great – but when we do this, we’re not simply affirming that Jesus lives up to some external, independent standard of greatness. Rather, what we’re saying is that Jesus embodies greatness in himself, that he sets the standard for what greatness truly is. This leads to some uncomfortable realizations, because if you look at the life Jesus lived - his prophetic voice and his radical compassion - you see that our common ideas about greatness are quite different from the example Jesus provides. It seems we get greatness wrong, most of the time. In his book, “The Road to Character,” David Brooks talks about the difference between ‘resume virtues’ and ‘eulogy virtues’. Resume virtues are the skills and accomplishments we bring to the marketplace - external, material indicators of how successful we are. Net worth, headlines, and names on plaques indicate greatness according to these virtues. Eulogy virtues, by contrast, are the commitments to community, character and spiritual health that a person lives by - the kinds of things that are remembered by friends and family after we’re gone. Testimonies to our honesty, compassion and self-sacrifice are what prove greatness in this paradigm. It’s important for all of us to ask on a regular basis which set of virtues – Resume or Eulogy - we prioritize in our own lives. Jesus is called great, by the angel Gabriel, by many writers in the bible and by Christians ever since, but while he’s commonly imagined on a throne, with a big crown, in majesty and glory (a kind of human materialism superimposed on the divine), the life he lived on earth was pretty lean on resume virtues. In our world, he was penniless and always on the move; Jesus was at home everywhere and nowhere. He spent most of his time with the poor and powerless, and he died young. Jesus lived a profoundly humble life, which began in the care of an unwed teen-aged mother who had no wealth or status, and who laid him in a manger, because they were far from home and had nowhere safe to go. Christmas reminds us that if we are seeking greatness, we will not find it in wealth, in power over others, or in any sort of self-aggrandizement. We find it in humility, in hospitality, in openness and vulnerability. The mercy, generosity and expansive welcome that characterize Jesus’ ministry in later years are first brought out by the peacefulness and goodwill of those who gathered at his birth. This is what you see in every nativity scene you pass this time of year. A gathering of humble souls, drawn together in compassion and wonder. The nativity is a collection of people (and sheep! And cows!) who don’t impress anybody – they couldn’t if they tried, and they don’t care to. But in this moment, gathered around the The Table is a Christian Church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: From greed toward generosity From violence toward peacemaking From isolation toward neighborliness From fear toward faith Worship Sundays at 5pm, 102 E. 2nd St., Davenport Christmas Eve Service, Monday Dec. 24, 5pm manger, astonished by grace in the cooing of a child, they know everything they will ever need to know of greatness. #Christmas #babyjesus #greatness #mary #angel #virtue #nativity

Jesus said, “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 5:10 I’ve been thinking of these words as I reflect on the shooting at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh on Saturday. The attack on Tree of Life is a hate crime, targeting people as a religious and cultural group. But it’s not only that. It’s also a persecution of the righteous. It’s an attack on compassion and generosity in the broadest sense, an assault on the common good. I say this because the shooter explicitly stated his reasons for targeting this community. He didn’t simply hate Jews (although anti-Semitic hate is clearly the basis of his actions); he expressed profound outrage specifically at the work of the Hebrew Immigrant Aide Society. HIAS is an organization that exists to serve, protect and empower displaced people. They help those who have been victims of horrendous violence, members of the global family most in need of help in dire circumstances. Here are the vision, mission and values statements from their website: Vision HIAS stands for a world in which refugees find welcome, safety, and freedom. Mission HIAS rescues people whose lives are in danger for being who they are. We protect the most vulnerable refugees, helping them build new lives and reuniting them with their families in safety and freedom. We advocate for the protection of refugees and assure that displaced people are treated with the dignity they deserve. Guided by our Jewish values and history, we bring more than 130 years of expertise to our work with refugees. Values Impassioned by our mission, we bring the lessons of HIAS’ history and Jewish ethics and experience to our commitment to serve refugees and other displaced persons of concern around the world through the following values: Welcoming, Dignity and Respect, Empowerment, Excellence and Innovation, Collaboration and Teamwork, and Accountability. *** We must all contend with the fact that this was an attack on people who are trying to help, trying to do good, working to heal the world. People who share the views of the murderer believe that violent and dangerous people may be among the refugees HIAS wants to welcome into healthy communities in the US. Obviously, it’s ironic and absurd for a mass-murderer to claim that refugees might be dangerous. But setting that aside, organizations like HIASS are eager to debate the most prudent and safe ways to support our global neighbors who are in desperate need of help. They agree that caution is necessary in providing aide. That fact is irrelevant to terrorists like the shooter in Pittsburgh. Compassion and benevolence are capital crimes in his mind, if they are extended to people he fears. I’m sure you know many people and organizations who spend their days putting fundamental principles of faith, hope and love into action. They are making generosity and goodwill into lived realities. This calamity is an attack on them – it’s an attack on goodness itself, and it won’t be the last. It’s up to us all to demonstrate that the practitioners of grace and the sowers of peace will not stop their work, even facing the menace of hatred. The Table is a Christian Church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: From greed toward generosity From violence toward peacemaking From isolation toward neighborliness From fear toward faith Worship Sundays at 5pm, 102 E. 2nd St., Davenport

I have a deep fear of spiders. It is my belief that every feature they possess is to instill fear in the human mind. The idea of a spider being near me is uncomfortable, it is nearly impossible for me to sleep when I consider that there is one in my room, watching me. But, I do begrudgingly acknowledge spiders serve a very important role in our ecosystem. So, spiders and I have come to a truce. As long as they eat bugs and don’t get near me, I will tolerate their terrifying presence. In a similar way, some of us look at certain emotions as we do spiders. We live with emotions like sadness, anger, and fear, even though their presence makes us uncomfortable. Our society tells us that certain feelings are “bad” or inappropriate because we as a culture are uncomfortable dealing with things that aren’t happy. Happiness is easy for our society to understand - it often doesn’t need intervention or aid. For example, when you first greet someone and asks “How are you?” we all know that the appropriate response is “Fine, how are you?” Unless this person is a friend, we don’t actually want to know how the random person or acquaintance we’re greeting actually feels. Because if they actually started pouring out their soul and their lives to us, we wouldn’t really know how to respond. It would make us uncomfortable. We, as a society, expect those emotions that aren’t happiness to be kept locked up inside us, only to be mentioned at appropriate times. Sometimes even our religion tries to tell us that some emotions are not okay. For example, you can’t be angry, you must forgive all the time, right from the beginning. You shouldn’t be sad about death because death isn’t the end. In some ways, we’ve allowed our own beliefs to tell us that we shouldn’t feel certain things, and that just leads to our detriment, and isn’t in line with God. Humans are not meant to compartmentalize feelings, and experiencing emotions are not bad things. If we believe that God created us and saw us as good, then the things we feel can’t be bad. Even in the Bible, we see God feeling anger and sadness when people turn away from what is right. You could say that feeling emotions is a natural part of life. There is an idea that all of our personalities are based off of God. As we grow, mature and reflect on ourselves, we become closer to the people God originally imagined we would be. Jesus is often looked to as the ideal emotional human. Jesus doesn’t walk through life as a feelingless being - like an uncaring god. Jesus loves his disciples to the point of calling them all friends rather than servants, trusting them with his deepest secrets. Jesus cries over his dear friend Lazarus after he died, regretting he couldn’t be there to see him before his friend’s death. He’s afraid of crucifixion and begs for God to pass the job from him, hoping that in some way, God’s will might be done without his death. He even gets angry at the money changers in the Temple, knowing they are using God’s laws to make a profit. Jesus feels. But he is self-reflective and empathetic. He shows that while God intends for us to feel, he doesn’t let those emotions control him or use them for evil deeds. W e should follow in Jesus’ footsteps, allowing ourselves to be with our emotions that we hide from ourselves.

“If we do not transform our pain, we will most assuredly transmit it.” That’s a saying from Richard Rohr, the Catholic teacher whose wisdom on suffering, aging, self-knowledge and peacemaking has shaped the thinking of many spiritual seekers and leaders in our time. If you ponder his words, it’s easy to think of examples where we ‘transmit’ our pain. You’ve heard the saying, “Hurt people hurt people.” That’s it in a nutshell. Transmitting our pain is the act of repeating the harm that has been done to us. If my pride is wounded, or I feel betrayed, or I am attacked, I lash out. Maybe I hurt the person who hurt me, or maybe I hurt someone else, whoever is the unlucky soul nearby when I’m feeling raw and untethered. Either way, I’m in pain, and I transmit it. It’s more of a challenge to think what it means to ‘transform’ our pain. Surely, it’s not just putting a silver lining on a terrible situation, convincing ourselves that something bad isn’t really bad. If we’re grieving a great loss, or suffering from a profound injustice, it’s not transformative to tell ourselves (or have someone else tell us) that our pain and it’s source are really good things. That kind of rationalization is insult laid upon injury. So what is the transformation of pain really about, then? Well, consider what happens when a 60-watt bulb transforms electricity into light, or when a plant transforms sunshine into food. Power is received, it’s accepted, and then expressed in a new way. If we are to do that with pain, we can’t reject it, deny it’s real; but neither can we simply pass it on to the next person. We have to take it and use it. Think of someone you know pretty well, who demonstrates great wisdom, or strength, or compassion. This person has a testimony of incredibly painful experiences in their life story, which became critically important to them developing the traits that you so admire in them today. I have no idea who you’re thinking about when I pose this thought experiment, but I know I’m right about this! The patience, honor, compassion, and zeal for justice of the most extraordinary lives are always at least in part the product of pain that has been transformed. Rohr’s words are both a warning and an invitation. Our pain can be the source of more pain for everyone, or the seed of something beautiful. Don’t repeat the harm that has been done to you. Allow some new life to grow out of it. --- The Table is a Christian Church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: From greed toward generosity From violence toward peacemaking From isolation toward neighborliness From fear toward faith Worship Sundays at 5pm, 102 E. 2nd St., Davenport

The Gospel of Luke begins the story of Jesus’ ministry with three episodes in which he is empowered by the Spirit of God. In the first, Jesus is CLAIMED by God - he experiences the spirit descending on him like a dove and hears the words, “You are my beloved, and with you I am well pleased.” In the second, Jesus is TESTED, as the Spirit sends him to the wilderness to contend with the devil. Jesus resists self-serving temptations that would lead him down a destructive path. In the third story, Jesus is SENT. The spirit has given him a mission, and he knows what he has been put on this earth to do. He reads from the prophet Isaiah, and says the ancient words are being fulfilled: ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.’ These three movements of the Spirit in Jesus’ life represent different seasons in the journey of Christian faith. There are times our focus must be entirely on the fact that we are loved by God. Life in the Spirit is entirely about remembering that we are CLAIMED, just like Jesus – we are God’s beloved, with whom God is well-pleased. All who have been abused, neglected, or rejected know how important this dimension of faith is. We all have felt alone and unloved – and the Spirit reminds us that we are claimed by God. Sometimes, the second movement of the Spirit is central. We must resist evil. The spirit not only allows us to be tempted, but gives us the strength not to give in when opportunities to cheat, to abuse, to manipulate others present themselves. Each person is susceptible to different vices, but we all have tasted the consequences of evil choices. Resisting the temptation to sin is an indispensable component of Christian faith, and we understand that life in the Spirit comes with TESTS. Because the first and second activities of the Spirit are so powerful and important, some Christians devote all their faith energy to one theme or the other. Religion is all about telling people how much God loves them, or else it’s all about telling people not to do bad things. But the Spirit isn’t a single-note chime, it’s a chorus. And these first two movements are met in mature faith by the third activity of the Spirit - the calling, the commissioning, the sending. God doesn’t just want to embrace us, or to police us. God wants to use us – to bring about greater justice and mercy throughout the world. God wants our communities to be a more compassionate and generous places because of the lives we have lived. God wants suffering met with kindness and abuse confronted with courage. God wants the poor to receive good news, the blind to receive sight, and the oppressed to have liberty, at long last. And for the sake of all these things, God wants all of us to get to work. The Spirit doesn’t just have one thing to say to us. Don’t settle for a single piece – listen to the whole truth. The Table is a Christian Church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: From greed toward generosity From violence toward peacemaking From isolation toward neighborliness From fear toward faith Worship Sundays at 5pm, 102 E. 2nd St., Davenport

At the end of the story of Noah’s Ark, God makes a promise to humankind, that a flood will never again wipe out life on earth. God creates a sign for all to see – a rainbow – as a reminder of this covenant. As a kid, I was taught that the rainbow was God’s reminder to help people remember that God loves us. But that’s not what the Bible says about the purpose of the rainbow. Here’s Genesis 9:12-15 God said, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. Did you notice that? The rainbow is not a sign for people to remember God’s promise. It’s a sign for God to remember God’s promise. In case it’s unclear, God immediately reiterates: When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.’ God said to Noah, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth.’ (Genesis 12:16-17) According to Genesis, the rainbow is a component in God’s system of self-control. It’s God’s own personal reminder, God’s push notification, that God has made a decision not to use God’s awesome and terrible power to destroy the world, even though God might want to. For me, it’s a little unnerving to think that God needs to check himself, to set up safeguards, to avoid committing acts of mass destruction. Is God fickle? Is the promise tenuous? On first glance it kind of seems that way. But if you ponder the story for a little bit, a wiser explanation arises. The rainbow, established in the infancy of humankind, is a sign of God’s eternal understanding and wisdom about the limited value of violence, even if violence is deserved. It’s always tempting to respond to hurt with more hurt, to give back hate when you’ve been hated. If someone causes trouble or pain, we want to throw trouble and pain back on them, doubly so. The Great Flood was the ultimate act of violence and destruction, visited appropriately enough on a world full of violent and destructive people. But the flood did not bring about peace and goodwill on the earth. It didn’t fundamentally change the way people would relate to one another, to creation at large, or to God. People are still people, even after the flood. Just like nations in the 20th Century learned that there would never be a ‘war to end all wars’, the Great Flood shows there is no ‘wrath to end all wrath,’ or ‘punishment to end all punishment’. The way of God, therefore, must not be to amplify the viciousness of people, to outdo humankind at acts of brutality. God’s way must be to respond to hate with love, to offer mercy in the face of malice, and to send healing into the malaise of brokenness. The rainbow is God’s own reminder to God – we won’t multiply enmity, we won’t add to the hurt, we won’t do what we know doesn’t work. We’ll choose a different way instead, and it won’t provide easy solutions to every problem, or a safe path through conflict. We won’t settle every score, satisfy every urge, or stoke the egos of the righteous. The rainbow is the sign of a new day, and a new way, and God sees it and remembers. We will choose life in the face of death. The Table is a Christian church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: from greed toward generosity from violence toward peacemaking from isolation toward neighborliness from fear toward faith Worship Sundays at 5pm 102 E. Second St. in Davenport

If you love someone, you may have said or thought at some point, “I would do anything for this person.” If somebody asked you what ‘anything’ means, you might have said exceptional things: "I’d give everything I have to make them happy." "I’ll provide for their every need, and take away their problems." "I would die to protect them." "I will punish, even kill, anyone who tries to hurt them." Love makes us ready to do exceptional things, doesn’t it? But more often than not, the things our loved ones need from us are not exceptional at all. Attention and appreciation. Time spent together in learning and play. Compassion and forgiveness, when we’re confused and struggling. We promise to do extraordinary things for the people we love. But love is mostly ordinary, and the ways it’s most commonly needed are easily overlooked, even by devoted people. You believe you’d jump in front of a bus to save your loved one, and that’s probably true, but how are you doing with simple quality time in the day-to-day? Love lives in ordinary things. Now, think about how people relate to God. People ask God for extraordinary things, right? People ask God to miraculously deliver their hearts’ desires - the dream job, the money, the babies, or whatever they think makes life glorious. People ask God to take away things they hate – illness, strife, hardship – they pray for miracles that will alleviate struggle and fear. People ask God to hurt their enemies, to pay them back double for the evil they’ve committed. Extraordinary things. I mean, that’s what God is all about, right? Well, let’s think about that. On Maundy Thursday, Jesus offered the love of God in a different way, a much more ordinary way. He didn’t offer gifts or riches to his disciples; he didn’t offer to shield them from pain; and he didn’t offer to kill the bad guys in their lives. What Jesus offered was communion. He invited his friends to share a meal, and to begin a sacred and eternal fellowship of grace. It wasn’t extravagant, it wasn’t impressive, and it didn’t solve any of their problems. In this fellowship they shared bread and wine, and they shared their fears, their hopes, their joy, their dismay. There were no trumpets, no supernatural displays. The food wasn’t amazing. But as simple and humble a time as it was, the disciples remembered this meal forever, not just as a special moment in past, but as an ongoing reality, an ever-present reminder, that they were never separated from God, and that they were all members together of Christ's own body. God loves us so very much that he would invite us to a meal. To receive bread and cup, and to become beloved community - strengthened, encouraged, comforted and chastened by Almighty Love. It’s not fancy, it’s not special. It’s just simple and close enough to show us how true Grace really is. _________________________________________________________ The Table is a Christian Church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: from greed toward generosity from violence toward peacemaking from isolation toward neighborliness from fear toward faith Worship Sundays at 5pm 102 E. 2nd. St. Davenport HOLY THURSDAY GATHERING at The Brewed Book 1524 N. Harrison St. Davenport 7pm

In the book of Jonah, God is upset by the ‘wickedness’ of the people of Nineveh. He sends Jonah to decry their wrongdoing and tell them to turn from their evil ways. But Jonah doesn’t want to go, because come on, he hates Nineveh. The Bible doesn’t actually say what the Ninevites were doing that was so wicked in God’s sight, or why Jonah personally despised them. And that’s helpful to us as readers. We can imagine any number of wicked things the Ninevites were doing, or just think of things we like to judge and hate people for in our time – it’s easy to relate to Jonah. Maybe Ninevites were violent, maybe they ripped people off, maybe they abused minorities or women… I sometimes wonder if somebody from Nineveh had hurt Jonah personally, or killed a member of his family. It’s easy to hate the place that the person you hate is from. Anyway, we don’t know what the specific sins were, but we’re told Nineveh was wicked, and Jonah couldn’t stand those people. And so it’s no surprise that he’s furious when God decides to forgive the Ninevites for their wrongdoing. Jonah believes Nineveh should be wiped off the face of the earth, not let off the hook. We all know a little about this kind of thing. There are people who have done things so bad that the thought of them being forgiven or getting a fresh start is painful to even consider. Jonah asks, as we do, “Is everything is supposed to be okay now? We’re supposed to forget the harm these people caused? After everything they did, we just let it go, like it doesn’t matter?” God’s answer to Jonah, and to us, is, “No. Hurt and suffering always matter. Evil choices and actions, and the harm they cause, are always important. You don’t forget when you forgive.” Jonah’s role in the Bible was to tell people how much their wickedness mattered to God. He was sent to tell people to stop the terrible things they were doing, because evil cannot be allowed to continue. People who enjoy hurting others, or who are simply caught in patterns of behavior that cause a lot of harm, don’t often take heed when somebody tells them they need to make a change. But sometimes the message really gets through. In Jonah’s story, the Ninevites listened, and they stopped doing whatever wicked things they had been doing. When God forgives them, he makes one thing very clear. God hates the evil that people do, but God doesn’t hate people. God wants us to stop doing the terrible things we do, so that we can live well with one another. In order for this to happen, we have to remember the seriousness of the sins we commit against one another. We have to remember the harm and the hurt, not so that we can demonize people who do wrong, but so that we always understand how important it is to do right. We need that clarity if we expect anything to really change. Jonah hated the thought that evildoers would get another chance to live well. But in the end, that’s the only way to create beloved community with imperfect people. Peace be with you! The Table is a Christian Church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: from greed toward generosity from violence toward peacemaking from isolation toward neighborliness from fear toward faith Worship Sundays 5pm, 102 E. 2nd St. Davenport Holy Thursday: Dinner Church! Meal, prayer, dialogue. 6PM

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent in the Christian Church. Lent is a 40-day season of grappling with the most serious dimensions of the human condition – sin, mortality, suffering – in remembrance of the many trials Jesus endured during his ministry. He began famished in the wilderness for 40 days, and ended up suffering and abandoned on his way to the cross. But Lent is not only about pondering the tragic and cruel dimensions of life. It’s also a time for growth, renewal, and creativity. The word Lent actually comes from an ancient word for ‘measuring’ and it refers to the lengthening of days in the spring-time. Christians remember the courage and grace of Jesus as he faced his own death, during a time of year when the weather is warming, and new life is budding all around. It's our annual reminder that the desolation of winter is not the end of everything. So Lent is a mixed bag, like each of us. The hope is thrown in with the heartbreak. The dawn mingles with darkness. On this first day of Lent, ashes are rubbed on the foreheads of worshippers, and these words are spoken: “Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return.” This is a reference to Genesis, which says the first humans were formed out of the dirt, the same material we’re buried in at death. So we begin the Lenten journey affirming our own mortality, reminding one another that we live but a short time, and every day is a gift. All through our time on earth, we experience both joy and anguish, elation and trauma. We have the means of compassion and creativity, just as we are able to deal in sorrow and sin, if we choose. The beauty and the horror, it’s all there. And also there, always and forever, is our Savior, the Prince of Peace, the artist of forgiveness, who makes a way through the wilderness, who goes before us as a trustworthy guide. Jesus knows the whole truth about us. He sees us for who we really are and says to each of us, “Follow me.” The Table is a Christian Church in Davenport, Iowa, pursuing transformation: from greed toward generosity from violence toward peacemaking from isolation toward neighborliness from fear toward faith Worship Sundays at 5pm 102 E. 2nd St. Davenport, Iowa ASH WEDNESDAY, Feb 14:Join us at the JB Young Opportunity Center, 1701 N. Main St. in Davenport, Any time between 4:30pm and 7pm. Recieve ashes, anointing, and holy communion. Share prayer and conversation. Stop by for a short moment or stay for a while!