theeffect Podcasts

Dave Brisbin 6.9.19

We’ve been looking at love from God’s point of view: what is this love, what does it look like, how can we begin to grasp its infinite scope? But maybe what’s more important is beginning with the assumption of its reality and then asking what it means for us to be the beloved? To look at God’s love from our point of view. What does a person beloved of God look like? Fortunately, we have an example that jumps off the pages of scripture because his name actually means beloved—dead giveaway that we should be paying attention. David, the boy who became the king who united all the tribes of Israel is described as a “man after God’s own heart,” chosen to be king and God’s beloved. But a quick review of everything we know of David’s life and actions from the books of Samuel show us a man who looks anything but beloved. Capable of the greatest courage, loyalty, faithfulness, and exuberance, he is also capable of the greatest cruelty, selfishness, arrogance, and disregard for life. Which is the beloved part? Why was he chosen for belovedness? What does his story tell us about ours? It tells us that David wasn’t God’s beloved because he deserved it or earned it, but only because he believed it to be true so deeply that he never stopped coming back to God. No matter how far he strayed, he trusted that God was just a breath away, his own breath breathing his return to God’s presence. David represents the extremes of human behavior in a beloved package. And though our behavior may be much less extreme, the package is no less beloved.

Dave Brisbin 6.2.19

I sometimes get asked why I don’t talk more about the Spirit, and that question always surprises or at least reminds me of differing perspectives. Of course I understand why it comes up—the Spirit is central to any reading of the New Testament as that which draws us to God, informs and empowers us to a fullness in spiritual awareness. This week, I was asked when I would talk about the Trinity, so I thought I’d put the two together in the context of love and see what happened. It took the church 300 years after the crucifixion to decide how the Father and Jesus were related, and another fifty plus to add Holy Spirit to a trinity of persons in one God. But alongside those heady debates was a set of three eastern bishops who understood this threeness of God experienced as Father, Son, and Spirit in creation, reconciliation, and sanctification as inseparable from the constant movement, the alternating flow of giving and receiving between lover and beloved. They saw the three persons of the godhead as in perichoresis—a Greek word that literally means circle dance—the blur of motion that is the definition of the dance, the way the motion of breath and wind is the definition of ruha, Aramaic for spirit. The blur of motion is God, and a mention of any one person of God always includes every person in the blur because it’s the motion that defines the relationship. It’s when we enter the motion blur ourselves like kids jumping on a spinning merry go round to join their friends that the blur of faces resolves to individuals as we add ours to circle of the dance.

Dave Brisbin 5.26.19

Medieval maps of the known world would often depict dragons in the water beyond where anyone had gone. Uncharted waters held both promise and unknown dangers, and some maps actually printed the words here be dragons to really hit the nail on the head. Those willing to sail beyond what was familiar were the ones who charted the maps in the first place and continued to push against the dragons until the entire globe was charted. You see, everything it means to be an explorer begins where the map ends. It’s the same with the spiritual life. The same Book that tells us God’s love is the centerpiece of our existence also tells us such a love is too great for us to understand. But we need to understand something so central, don’t we? So Jesus addresses the dilemma with every teaching and story, consciously breaking down our attachment to what is familiar by calling us out beyond our maps of law, ethics, religion, justice, obligation, tradition, and even family and obedience-- whatever we grasp to make us feel safe and protected. Jesus knows that as long as continue to circle our ships in known waters, safely within the scope of what we think we know, we will never experience a love that is infinitely rooted in heaven and not earth. Jesus is leading where there be dragons, because everything it means to love as God loves begins where familiar love ends.

Dave Brisbin 5.19.19

If you were asked to name Jesus’ main purpose in his ministry, could you do it? There will be many answers of course, but we don’t have to speculate. Jesus told us flat out in Luke 4 that his purpose was to preach the Kingdom of God to all the cities. So if the Kingdom of God is Jesus’ purpose, have we gotten the message? Do we know what the Kingdom is? Just as it was misunderstood by Jesus’ first followers, we misunderstand too, which is why Jesus goes to such lengths to tell us that the Kingdom is not a place but a quality of life to be lived, not future but now, not out there somewhere, but within and all around us, and one thing more that we tend to miss. When we look at Jesus’ life we see him in every possible emotional state, both positive and negative. He often retreated from his work in order to reconnect with his Father, which tells us that the quality of life that is the Kingdom of God is something that is chosen, returned to each moment rather than a steady state entered just once. And if that is true, how do we enter Kingdom right herenow in this moment? And the next? If the Book is right and God is love and love is experienced as what we call grace, then it seems the Kingdom of God is really the Kingdom of Grace. And if that’s true, every time we choose graciousness—kindness, compassion, understanding, mercy—we enter into God’s grace, into the Kingdom of Grace.

Dave Brisbin 5.12.19

Mother’s Day: Two scenes from a movie try to capture what the day to day relationship was between Jesus and his mother. They are touching scenes, one heartbreaking, but both underscore the power of a mother’s love that is the closest we will come to the love of our Father in this life. If mother’s love is closest to the Father’s love and the Father’s love is arguably the most important thing we can learn in our spiritual formation, then why do we refer to God as Father? Where’s mother? Looking at how the Hebrews understood their God as coded into their very language, we find that though God is referred to in the masculine, he is often portrayed as feminine by the prophets. The Hebrew words for spirit and kingdom are both feminine—and wisdom, a main attribute of God, is personified as female in Proverbs. How can God be both mother and father at same time? A perfect balance, perfect marriage? Just as we know the earth is round, but experience it as flat every day, we could say the earth is round in fact but flat in experience. And we could also say that God is Father in fact, but Mother in experience, and until we experience the compassion and acceptance of Mother God, we will never really know Father God, no matter how much we know about him.

Dave Brisbin 5.5.19

A friend calls me to the hospital bed of her dying husband, and there in the room with her and him and his entire family, watching and being part of the dynamic and grief, I am hyper aware of the precious nature of all our relationships. And a line from a Carl Sagan returns: that in all our searching, the only thing that makes the emptiness bearable is each other. When I first heard that, I didn’t agree on theological grounds, but twenty years later, I’ve become convinced. It has occurred to me that if God really is the unseen unity at the heart of all the diversity and separate form and function we see every day, then there really is only one relationship around which all our other relationships in life revolve. And all our relationships in life are really just different ways of looking at the only relationship that really exists. But does Jesus agree? Is he in different words saying the same thing and how does that change our everyday experience? Looking at the words of Jesus, James, and John, it certainly seems they are trying to help us see that the only way experience the love of the Father in this life is through our love for each other.

Dave Brisbin 4.28.19

On Palm Sunday, looking at how the various groups of people around Jesus couldn’t see him as he was, but only through the filter of their own agendas and desires and so didn’t recognize the hour of their visitation—and then on Easter, looking at how the closest friends of Jesus didn’t recognize him at all after his resurrection—there’s a whole lot of unrecognition going around. So who is this Jesus we’re trying to follow and emulate? What do we really know and how close is what we think we know to who he really is? The New Testament doesn’t give a lot of detail, but when we dig into the language and context and the way the authors wrote their texts, a picture emerges, but it’s one that will challenge the view of Jesus that has come down to us traditionally. Can we really understand Jesus as lighthearted and playful, bold but vulnerable, and always completely integrated? When we look at Jesus through an Aramaic lens, how humor worked in the ancient world, the details that were put in and left out of Scripture, we’ll see how close we can get to really meeting Jesus.

Dave Brisbin 4.21.19

Easter Sunday: One of the most striking details of the post-resurrection narratives in the Gospels is that none of Jesus’ closest followers recognize him when they first see him risen from the tomb. What is going on here? How could they not recognize Jesus? Is this a literal fact being preserved, a deeper spiritual meaning being evoked, both? The two figures confronting the women at the tomb give us the best clue: why do you look for the living among the dead? Answer: they buried Jesus and expected him to stay put. Reasonable assumption, but they were looking for Jesus where they expected him to be and not where he always was…in motion. Life is defined by motion; something unmoving is by definition not alive. God’s spirit is defined by motion; the Hebrew word ruach means breath, wind, spirit—all only experienced in motion. As soon as we have a fixed idea about God, he is no longer there. Fixed ideas, like corpses, lie among the dead and can’t define a living God. As soon as we think we have Jesus figured out, he is not there, and we, like his closest friends need to let go of our preconceptions, let Jesus be himself, and stop the ultimate frustration and grief of looking for the living among the dead.

Dave Brisbin 4.14.19

Sixth Sunday of Lent, Palm Sunday: Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday, Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem that Jesus ironically sees as a tragedy for his people. Why? Because they miss the hour of their visitation, keeping them on a path leading to destruction. But how so? They greet him at the city gates with palm branches and shouts that signify the return of a king… As we look at the four main groups interacting with Jesus—the people and Zealots, the Pharisees and Sadducees, the Romans, and Jesus’ own followers—we see that each group only sees Jesus through the lens of their own expectation and desired outcomes. As Jesus comes riding into their lives, they don’t see him as he is or what he represents and teaches. They remain unchanged by his presence and message and look only to further their own agendas. Without recognizing the radical change Jesus represents, they miss the visitation of God that would change everything. And as it was then, it is now. The truth is, every moment is Palm Sunday in our own lives. Every moment, Jesus is riding into our lives, humbly, on the colt of a donkey. If we haven’t become people who celebrate the seemingly insignificant details of life, we will miss the entire point and presence of an unassuming God, one who lives to serve, not be served. And as we look for a mighty savior to fix all our circumstances, we’ll miss the quiet one by our side who only invites us to see the truth that is already right before our eyes.

Dave Brisbin 4.7.19

Fifth Sunday of Lent: And so we come to Maundy Thursday as we work through the liturgical days of Holy Week. The traditional scripture passages associated with Maundy Thursday are all the events and preparations for the Last Supper, the agony in the Garden, and Jesus’ arrest. It’s a busy day as Jesus gives a new commandment to his friends at supper—to love each other as he has loved them, institutes the Eucharist/communion, washes his friends’ feet, and prays a long prayer before going to the garden of Gethsemane. But as we look at the deeper significance of each of these events, the principle at the core of all of them is the unity for which Jesus prays at the end of supper. The new commandment, the washing of feet, communion, the return to the Father’s will in the garden all point toward the need to be one in identity, meaning, and purpose. And as we add Thursday to the four preceding days of Holy Week, we can see an overlay with the four stages of spiritual growth that trace our progression from self to group to interior work to unity in the broadest sense. It is a beautiful and essential representation of both the final week of Jesus’ journey and the totality of our own.