The Stuff Lunch is Made of

Growing up, a simple sandwich was probably the first thing I ever assembled in the kitchen. I wish I could say I had a mature and adventuresome palate from a young age, but that just wouldn't be true. At the time, I thought I was being raised by the strictest mother in the community of Oakwood--or the STATE of Georgia--or the whole WORLD, if you had asked me. But God bless her, she was never one of those "clean your plate" mothers. She was more the "try a little of everything" ilk. Luckily, by the time I was about 10 years old, we could safely say I had tried most everything (face scrunched, lips turned down, huge scowl, breath held) and there was much that didn't interest me. As I said, I got lucky in the Mother arena (strict but fair) and if I asked to make a sandwich instead of eating what was offered for dinner, she was generally amenable. Needless to say, summer lunches were all about what would fit between two pieces of bread. These days, some *&%$# years later, I'd still rather have a sandwich than just about anything else.

Some days, there's just nothing I'd rather have than a banana sandwich, one of my earliest comfort meals. And I am very particular about the ingredients. Not just any banana will do! PLEASE don't ask me to eat one of those bananas with brown spots. The banana that sings my name is just starting to lose its tinge of green. It should be firm to the touch with no soft spots. And then there is the mayonnaise. For many years I have been one of those "lite" mayo folks. But a few months ago, I tossed in the towel. I just couldn't do it anymore. No more of that slick artificial feel on my tongue where there should be the rich emulsion of the REAL thing. And I must say, I prefer Duke's. I've been a Hellmann's girl and Blue Plate made regular appearances when I was growing up, but my "mature," adult palate thinks Duke's is richly superior to other options. I'd rather eat less of a good mayonnaise than more of a bad one. That said, don't be stingy with it when you slather it on the bread. We want measurably more than a film. It should do more than skim the surface!

Then there is the bread. Of course, I grew up with the gummy white stuff. Was there anything else? I do believe there was something called Roman Meal in the stores in the late 60s and early 70s, but it rarely made its way into my house. And there is certainly something beguiling about a sandwich made on white bread, particularly a banana sandwich. The bread absorbs the mayo and hugs the bananas close in a package that is immensely edible. Yet, even as I have gravitated back to real mayonnaise, I just can't embrace white bread in the same way I did when I was young. These days, I love the nutty taste of the fiber rich options available to us. I've brought a number of loaves home and many are acceptable, but I've settled into a cozy relationship with Pepperidge Farms 100% whole wheat with 4 whopping grams of fiber in a single slice. The fiber is pleasant but not imposing, present but not persistent, dense without overwhelming.

One more note about the banana sandwich--one would think assembling such a gourmet treat would be a simple task, but certain things must be given due attention. The slicing of the banana is the coup de grace that makes or breaks the sandwich. Do not even think about slicing the banana lengthwise. I've seen others use that technique, and it is not the same sandwich. The banana needs to be sliced crosswise into uniform disks and layered on the bread (mayo on both slices, please) with a slight overlap. I find it takes about 3/4 of a medium banana to make a single sandwich.

I wish all of life could be as easy as lunch! But life is a little better WITH a good lunch, and this one can't be beat. Some good salty potato chips round out the sweetness of the banana and offer a textural counterpoint to the blissful sandwich you are enjoying.

Matthew 4:4 Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"

If I Could Tell You One Thing About Jesus

Delivered 3.31.10, Holy Week, Fairhope United Methodist Church.

If I could tell you only one story about Jesus as you reflect on the crucifixion, I would probably tell you about the night Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. The other gospel writers all describe a meal around a common table and the conversation and events surrounding that event. John chooses to tell us about something else that happened as the meal was being served that night. It is helpful to know that it was customary for a servant to wash the feet of the guests gathered for a meal. Dirty, dusty feet. Tired feet. Feet that often walked many miles to reach their destination. But on this night, no servant was there to provide for that task, and none of those gathered had volunteered.

In order to tell you this story, I have to start at the beginning…at the very beginning, at creation, way back in Genesis. To understand this story, you have to know that when God created humankind, we were absolutely whole and perfect. I use the pronoun “we” here purposefully, to emphasize that in God’s creation of Adam and Eve, his intention and design for each of us was fully present. The promise for who we would be, who we ARE, was contained within the first man and woman. So God created us as whole and complete beings, but to make us authentically human, he gave us free will and set parameters on our choices. We could have everything but ONE thing. We could be perfectly satisfied with all God had created. We didn’t NEED that one thing God said was off limits. There wasn’t even anyone else to compete with who had that one thing except some slimy serpent. But when Eve took the fruit of the tree and shared it with Adam, her willing accomplice, humanity became broken. WE became broken and WE ARE BROKEN.

When sin entered the world, our wholeness was shattered. And ever since the events we read about in the third chapter of Genesis “came to pass,” human beings have been trying to fix whatever it is that is broken deep in our souls and spirits. One of the ways we see that brokenness reveal itself in our lives is in the sense of competition that emerges toward other people. In its earliest manifestation, in childhood, it is heard in the words “no” and “mine.” That brokenness is somehow inherent in the fact that children have to be taught to share, isn’t it? Early on, we have to start teaching our children that wonderful principle of letting someone else play with their toys. We tell them to “be nice” and “share” their blocks with the other kids. We urge them to “take turns.” None of this comes completely natural to children, because the human condition is one of brokenness.

So, we as adults are still trying to fix that which is broken inside. As adults, it is part of our nature to jockey for position, too. We pursue certain activities and acquire specific habits that will help us “get ahead” in this world. We judge ourselves based on how we compare to other people. This world we live in has become quite a competitive place. I remember my last quarters in college as I began to interview for jobs out in the real world through our career placement office. I was an economics major through the business school at University of Georgia, headed for a career in the business world in the early eighties. We were coached in all sorts of ways to set our sights toward position and power and authority. We were taught to write the perfect one-page resume, to shake hands with a firm handshake, to make direct eye contact and speak decisively and knowledgeably. We were taught when asked the ubiquitous question about strengths and weaknesses to answer the question in the sort of way that made even our weaknesses look like desirable qualities in a job candidate. “I tend to be a bit of a perfectionist.” “I am sometimes too hard on myself.” “I sometimes have a hard time delegating because I want to make sure everything is done perfectly.”

I was entering the business world during a time when women were beginning to make significant headway into higher management positions. But there was one problem for females entering the business world. Men had a uniform, and women did not. It was easy for a man to look the part. But women weren’t quite sure what that meant. A man could put on a suit and tie and white shirt with a button down collar, polished shoes and a briefcase. It was more of a problem for a woman deciding what to wear. Someone gave me a book that became my “other bible” in those days. It was called, “Dress for Success for Women.” What it advocated was a sort of uniform for women: a dark blue or gray blazer, a white shirt, skin colored hose, navy or black pumps with medium high heels and a little bow tied up under the collar with some kind of neutral design. This was to be the icing on the cake for the females in our ranks who were out there interviewing for jobs--a good education, great interview skills and a “uniform” that would put us well on our way to climbing the corporate ladder.

Since you live in the same broken world I live in, you know the metaphors that color our lives, the advocacy to do what we can to get ahead, the compulsion to acquire more and more stuff, the ways in which we measure ourselves against other people and how they look and what they do and what they have. What we find, though, when we bring ourselves before scripture is that none of those things will fix what is broken on the inside. None of those metaphors are found in scripture. Instead, when we take a good hard look at the Word of God what we find is Jesus with a towel and a basin doing the lowliest and most menial of human tasks! That is the kind of model and metaphor we find in scripture, the metaphor of service, of giving, quite often sacrificially. You can search scripture from one end to the other and you will not find anything that urges you toward personal acquisition or power or authority over others. Instead you will find the admonition to sell all you have and give to the poor. You will find parables encouraging you to be a good neighbor to those in need. You will find advice to turn the other cheek, to go the second mile, to find a void where need exists and fill it. Living the Jesus way is how the brokenness is made whole.

Life tends to be full of reminders that much of what we work to gain and preserve here on earth can be gone in the blink of an eye. This current economic environment has been a stark reality check that the value of our property, our investments, our jobs, our bank accounts can lose their worth faster than we ever imagined. The aging process reminds us that the same smile and attitude that opened doors for us several decades ago won’t get our foot in the door today. The hairstyles that worked for us in the 80s are just the butt of our children’s jokes today. Keeping up with the Jones’s is like being on a never-ending treadmill. If we base our hope and value on the relationships we have, those, too, are not guaranteed beyond today.

So, is it wrong to work hard to provide for your family? Is it sinful to save toward your retirement? Is it something shameful if you have worked your way into a position of leadership and respect in your field or in the community? Is it wrong to be happy that you have a good-looking wife and beautiful children? Absolutely not! An adamant “No” to all of those questions. But none of those will make you whole or fulfill God’s purposes for you. There has to be something more in our lives. Scripture would have us ask these kinds of questions of ourselves: What are you doing to make a lasting difference in this world? What meaningful work are you doing for the kingdom of God? Are you giving the first fruits of your labor to further Christ’s work in the world? Are you helping meet the needs of those around you? Are you giving sacrificially in any way? That means, are you giving UP something or giving OF yourself to the point of making yourself somewhat uncomfortable?

Sin stands between you and me and our path to holiness. Only one thing can bridge that gulf, and that is the love of Jesus Christ poured out on the cross for all of us. It is hard for me to comprehend fully the love that would cause someone to die on the cross for me. It helps me to understand that love when I remember that Jesus, this man who died for me on the cross, just hours earlier took the time to do the most menial of tasks for the ones he loved. He wrapped a towel around himself and took a basin with water and washed the disciples’ feet. If I had been there, he would have washed my feet, too. He would not have cared whether or not I had a recent pedicure, although I am enough like Peter that I would probably sweat that detail first thing. Jesus wouldn’t have cared. He would have taken my feet gently in his hands. He wouldn’t have even mentioned the rough, peeling skin or the bunions or whether or not I had polished my toenails. He would have held my feet ever-so-tenderly, knowing they were tired from trudging around with all my burdens, and he would have brought refreshment to my soul and spirit as he ministered to my needs. If we only give lip-service to our understanding of the Cross and don’t live the Jesus way, we are not Easter people.

I hope that as we experience Crucifixion and Resurrection in days to come, we will keep the vision of Jesus with a towel and basin at the forefront of our thoughts, because it shows us where we go next. It helps us know what to do with all the emotion churned up by the realities thrust upon us during our experience of this Lenten season. Once when I was in a service of Holy Communion, the pastor administering the sacrament offered the elements in this way. He held the bread in front of us and said these words: “This loaf is whole. We are broken.” Then he broke the bread and said, “Jesus became broken that we might be made whole.” And then he held the cup up in front of us and said, “This cup is full. We are empty. Jesus poured himself out that we might be made full.” And therein is Truth! It is only in giving ourselves away that we stumble upon true joy and wholeness in our lives. May we in this Lenten season be overcome with the compassion of Christ, so that we may live as compassionate people in this world that would tug us in so many other directions.

Thanks be for the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ, a love so big and wide that we can only comprehend it in small glimpses.

John 13:8 “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part of me.”

No Harassing of the Ducks!

Yes, that is posted on a sign in a public park, only a few blocks from where I live. So why in the world would anyone want to harass a duck? I guess someone, somewhere at some time and by the power of some inner prompting well beyond my comprehension felt compelled to pick on a poor defenseless water fowl minding his own business. Or else it wouldn't be posted, right?

It is resolution time, or perhaps well past! Many have already compiled their lists and are well into making resolutions a reality. Others have already abandoned a resolution or two and moved on to larger living. Resolutions require a narrowing of focus, a measuring of what is now a reality and quantifying or qualifying what we want to be the new reality. For some reason I keep thinking my resolve for days ahead has something to do with leaving those blame ducks alone! That enigmatic sign seems to be tatooed on my spirit in some way that keeps calling me to ponder.

One of my core values is to endeavor always to leave a place or space better than I found it. But even though I claim that as a core value, I'm not sure I always practice what I believe or preach. Do I always live in a way that leaves a wake of "better?" Perhaps some days that happens more successfully than others. But at any rate, very little in my life really just happens without being purposed. Either consciously or unconsciously, my actions and their impact on the world have something to do with an inner compass. Every now and then, that inner compass pivots toward something other than my True North. Perhaps I am feeling less than stellar about myself and follow a prompting to put someone else down in order to pump myself up. Or maybe my focus aims itself toward self-gratification, and to get exactly what I want at a particular moment in time means someone else's needs have to be ignored or subjugated to my own desire.

So this year I want to find my way back to a dead reckoning on my True North every day. What begins in my heart works its way forward into my actions. What I think and believe and contemplate is ultimately who I am and what I do. The earth IS good, and all that is in it. I want this year to be a time of growing in the certainty that pretty much everything I do has consequences, either intentional or unintentional. I don't want to think of myself more highly than I ought, but it is naive to think that our individual lives happen in a vacuum. Each day there are ripples that begin with me and work their way into larger and larger concentric circles. Each day I make decisions for better or worse, or even for good, better or best. "Best" is a good target and if I miss it, at least I'm shooting in the right direction!

May I so live in this world every day that my purposes align with higher Purposes, and those around me experience some of the incumbent blessings of living in harmony with creation.

Psalm 24: 1 The earth is the Lord's and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it; for he founded it upon the seas and established it upon the waters.