True North with Dave Brisbin

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.

Dave Brisbin 3.31.19

Fourth Sunday of Lent: Each liturgical day of Holy Week from Palm Sunday to Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday has a name and scripture passages designated that tell the story of the final week of Jesus’ earthly life. But each day and its passages also tell another story when we look beneath the literal meaning. They show us the internal experience of the Way of Jesus…the path he takes all the way to the cross. Focusing on Holy Tuesday and Spy Wednesday that tell of the wise and foolish bridesmaids and about Judas and Mary, we find stories about balance. Jesus tells us that the parable of the bridesmaids is about watchfulness and readiness, and the context of the Jewish wedding tradition balances the anticipation of new life to come with the immersion in the life that is now. Judas, whether conspiring to have Jesus arrested or sparring with Mary over whether the perfume she pours over Jesus should have been sold for the poor, is wholly focused on macro political and social issues. Mary is only focused on her relationship with Jesus—intimate and vulnerable. Jesus is quick to point out the disconnect, and we are left to see how the balance between anticipation of new life to come and presence to daily details, the balance between the big issues over which we have no control and the intimacy of our closest relationships is part of this week of keys to Kingdom life.

Dave Brisbin 3.24.19

Third Sunday of Lent: Flipping channels, ran across the movie Chariots of Fire. Hadn’t seen it in decades and got immediately pulled in. Story of two runners preparing for the 1924 Olympics—a British Jew and Scottish Christian who couldn’t be more different. As the Brit is using running as a weapon against the prejudice he’s endured as a Jew, the Scotsman simply “feels God’s pleasure” when he runs. And his whole life as both athlete and Christian missionary to China reflects his ability to do two things: to see through the surface task—whether running or teaching—to the deeper, spiritual task beneath, and to radically accept life as it presents in any moment. Whether the pressure of an Olympic event or the advance of the Japanese army into China, he remains himself, wholly committed to the welfare of either competitors or students. How did he manage to get to this kind of balance? In his early twenties, no less? And more importantly, how can we? When we read from sources as diverse as Nehemiah, Ecclesiastes, Jesus at Matthew 6, and dialectical behavior therapy skills, we see patterns forming that give us clues to the how of this balance between work for change and radical acceptance, between the task at hand and finding the evergreen task within the task. And by leaning in right there we can begin to live the difference between identifying with our work, using our tasks as weapons of self-worth and simply feeling God’s pleasure as we run.

Dave Brisbin 3.17.19

Second Sunday of Lent: Trying to sit quietly in balcony chair and warm sunlight but shadows keep flitting across my closed eyes. Every time I look, nothing there, until finally I catch a smallish butterfly streaking by. Then another. And another, until I realize there’s a dense column all driving overhead in the same direction. Later I learn of the one billion butterflies migrating north to Oregon and beyond…because the rains this winter in the interior deserts dropped annual rainfall levels in single weekends, and dormant seeds and bulbs under the desert floor bloomed into carpets of flowers that caterpillars loved and survived into a billion butterflies going north. We notice a billion butterflies, but how often do we notice just one? Lent is about becoming people who don’t wait, like dormant, buried seeds for spectacular rains to bring a billion butterflies into our awareness, but actively search out the water and growth that allows us to see each and every butterfly that crosses our path. Jesus speaks of the cry of all creation showing us the truth, Paul gives us a three-part roadmap to the kind of awareness that really sees and celebrates whatever creation is right in front of us, right now. Whether a billion or just one, no longer waiting for a spectacular desert bloom, we make the desert bloom anytime any time we choose.

Dave Brisbin 3.10.19

On the first Sunday of Lent, we stop to consider what Lent has meant since the middle of the second century to millions of Christians from ancient to medieval to modern times. What is its place in the liturgical calendar and how did it and the other seasons of the church along with their cultural practices bind the people together in common experience? A common experience we no longer possess in our culture. But understanding Lent by understanding the model from which it came, Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness, we begin to see that regardless of what the church taught and practiced, Lent was not about suffering or deprivation as some sort of sacrifice for God’s favor. Nor was it about penance for past sin. Looking at the model of Jesus, we see a voluntary sense-deprivation, a quieting and removal of all distraction and whatever fuels the ego-self that obscures real identity and meaning. Jesus didn’t go into the wilderness to suffer, he went to be purged of everything that hid the truth from his eyes, but he accepted suffering as part of the process. This Lent, this 40 day preparation for the new life of Easter, can establish a structure for our own journey toward our real selves, if we let it. Will we? Let it?

Dave Brisbin 3.3.19

The shape of our life journey moves initially from the simplicity of childhood to the complexity of adulthood. But if it stops there, we’ve missed the point of it all. To push further, to let go of the complexity and dive back down into the simplicity of our essential spirituality brings us into real meaning and purpose. To illustrate from John’s Gospel, the story of Jesus’ first miracle, changing water to wine at Cana, can be read very simply as just that, Jesus’ first miracle that established him as more than a man, teacher, and sage—someone in whom his first followers placed their faith. But delving deeper into the imagery, the symbolic use of numbers, the historical context and relationships implied from an ancient Hebrew point of view adds complex layers of meaning and begins to show us much more of what John and his community understood about Jesus near the end of the first century. But to stop there in all that complexity, no matter how interesting and enlightening, is still to miss the essential message of Jesus’ work. To break through and find the simple and intimate connection with the story is what moves us from head to heart, from a two thousand year old narrative to the choices we will make in our next breath.

Dave Brisbin | 2.24.19

Talking about the mental gymnastics involved in moving from dualistic thinking to unitive thinking, once again, it’s not about become wholly one or the other, but a realization of the need for the balance of middle ground. Ultimately all our brains do—our left brains at least—is to differentiate: compare and contrast, find the edges of things to define and distinguish them from the background and the next thing, to place them in categories, divide light from dark, past from future, us from them. Without this ability, we don’t survive. All the tasks along our journey of life are dependent on the ability to think dualistically, and we need to take the tasks of life seriously. If we don’t, we’ll never find our purpose, meaning, and identity as humans. But at the same time, if we take the tasks of life too seriously, if we never stop differentiating and judging, if we become defined and identified with our tasks and accomplishments, then we never find meaning, purpose, identity either. We’re on this hero’s journey of life not to find and acquire our purpose, but to reach the point of release of all that we think the journey is about, and in that clearing realize the purpose, meaning, and identity that had always been ours from before we began. From Abraham to Moses to Solomon, to Jesus to Dorothy Gale in Oz to each of us, the journey is the same in shape and infinitely different in detail. A hero is not the one who completes the journey, but the one whom the journey completes.

Dave Brisbin | 2.10.19

When I was in pastoral training, a pastor told me that no one should preach the parables until they’ve been in ministry for 30 years. Now I violated that right away, but approaching 20 years in ministry, I do see what he was driving at. There is a perspective that comes just from sheer years of having seen the panorama, the parade of years go by that creates a different way of looking at life—and parables need to be looked at the way we look at life--not text. For two thousand years, scholars and clergy have debated the meaning of Jesus’ parables, breaking them down into the smallest bits, trying to crack the code. But some parables absolutely resist such fine grained interpretation. As in the difficult parables of the unjust steward and judge, Jesus seems to be violating everything we know of our morality and ethics as well as his own. But parables aren’t meant to be understood through the lens of what we already think we know, they are meant to explode what we already think we know. They are meant to slap us in the face and wake us up or at least confuse us enough to stop trying to force familiar lines of thinking into radical new concepts. If we let go of trying to resolve each word and detail to make the parable fit our understanding, if we step back as from the vantage of 30 years’ experience and see the overall contours of the story, where it’s pointing, how it makes us feel--with just enough Aramaic context, we can begin to see where Jesus is pointing us. And if we’re willing to follow that new direction both mentally and relationally, we’ll find new ways of seeing and hearing that may begin with a parable, but will extend to every detail of our lives.