Saturday, January 7, 2012

The Baptism of a Dead Teenager




The title is jarring, but it is the only one that comes to mind.  The certificate is sitting right here - a baptism certificate for Andre.  He had been visiting Spirit of Hope with his best friend for some time when they both declared their intention to join the church and be baptized.  As the day came closer, Andre was less consistent in his attendance.  Time passed and his friend was baptized, but Andre dropped out of sight.  The certificate was prepared and ready.  He would come back, right?  It was set aside.

A few months later, two years ago January 7th, we learned that Andre had died.  He had been baptized into a different life.  In a day of poor decision making, he tagged along on a robbery with an older acquaintance with great influence on him.  It was the house of a police officer, and Andre was shot as they tried to enter.  And he was gone.

Andre is gone, but his baptism certificate remains, never baptized.  At least once or twice a month I look at it on the shelf in my office.  In a world as intense as Detroit it is easy to lose track of a sister or a brother.  We lost track of Andre.  Damn it.

Tomorrow, on the day of the year when the church recognizes the baptism of Jesus, we are going to burn that certificate at Spirit Farm, along with prayer cloth and other sacred items.  As the prayers turn from cloth and marker into dust, ash and smoke, they will be put into the universe.  So will the potential of the life of Andre and his baptism.

With time, ash and smoke turns into hope.  Part of Andre’s name is in the name of one of the babies in our congregation.  It does not feel like a lot of power, but it is something.  Baptism of the Spirit, by the fire of the Spirit, will live past the few minutes of the fire we start tomorrow. 

May the fire of the Spirit lead us to watch out for one another, bother and cajole one another.  May the fire of the Spirit teach us.  May it open our ears and our hearts.  May it burn in us the memories of the failures and the victories. 

Teach us, Spirit.  Baptize us every day.  Grab us.  Hold on to us.  Do not let go.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Even when I’m crazy….

“Even when I’m crazy, God is still God.  God has me when I’m crazy.”  So says a person I know who struggles with paranoia and bi-polar disease.  He was in the middle of one of his occasional paranoid rants some time before worship began.  After a few minutes of a routine I now consider normal, he paused and looked around the sanctuary.  That’s when he said what he did.

Paranoia seems to be the only rational reaction to life on our streets right now.  Four women, allegedly somehow tied to the sex industry, were recently found dead on the other side of the city.  Food sources are drying up so quickly it makes my head spin, and the Detroit News today reported there might be a billion dollar surplus in the 2011 state budget, which many people in power are declaring a victory.  The budget was balanced almost exclusively by raising taxes on the elderly and slashing funding to all levels of childcare and education. 


It’s official, I am paranoid, and it feels completely rational.  It is January 4th and we have not yet had snow in Michigan.  The lakes are not frozen over.  We cannot keep warm clothes in the Spirit of Hope clothing pantry before they disappear to those who need them.  The preschool is about ready to dry up in funding, and a few thousand extra dollars show up, unexpected and brilliant.  There was an earthquake just down the road in Ohio the other day, caused by fracking.

It was New Year’s Day Sunday and everyone was expected to be at home asleep recovering, and we had nearly regular attendance numbers in worship.  I feed the fowl on a cold morning and Auntie Roberta, the large white Spirit Farm turkey, rubs against my legs like a cat looking for affection.  By 8:30 in the morning I see more people I know in the Family Dollar than I do in the neighborhood bar 8:30 at night.  The budget is never balanced but somehow there is just enough.

Nothing is predictable.  Maybe it never was, but it seems even less so now.  The massive amount of unpredictability leaves people without stability, reliability and a sense of peace.  Even positive, unexpected change has a way of throwing people off, leaving us with a sense of paranoia.   I cannot help but think of the man possessed by demons, hanging in the tombs near the Gerasenes.  Jesus confronted that man as if nothing was unexpected or unusual.  Maybe Jesus understood the man’s insanity was really quite rational. 

Even when I’m crazy, God is still God.  God has me when I’m crazy.

Even when I’m crazy….

“Even when I’m crazy, God is still God.  God has me when I’m crazy.”  So says a person I know who struggles with paranoia and bi-polar disease.  He was in the middle of one of his occasional paranoid rants some time before worship began.  After a few minutes of a routine I now consider normal, he paused and looked around the sanctuary.  That’s when he said what he did. 

Paranoia seems to be the only rational reaction to life on our streets right now.  Four women, allegedly somehow tied to the sex industry, were recently found dead on the other side of the city.  Food sources are drying up so quickly it makes my head spin, and the Detroit News today reported there might be a billion dollar surplus in the 2011 state budget, which many people in power are declaring a victory.  The budget was balanced almost exclusively by raising taxes on the elderly and slashing funding to all levels of childcare and education. 

It’s official, I am paranoid, and it feels completely rational.  It is January 4th and we have not yet had snow in Michigan.  The lakes are not frozen over.  We cannot keep warm clothes in the Spirit of Hope clothing pantry before they disappear to those who need them.  The preschool is about ready to dry up in funding, and a few thousand extra dollars show up, unexpected and brilliant.  There was an earthquake just down the road in Ohio the other day, caused by fracking.

It was New Year’s Day Sunday and everyone was expected to be at home asleep recovering, and we had nearly regular attendance numbers in worship.  I feed the fowl on a cold morning and Auntie Roberta, the large white Spirit Farm turkey, rubs against my legs like a cat looking for affection.  By 8:30 in the morning I see more people I know in the Family Dollar than I do in the neighborhood bar 8:30 at night.  The budget is never balanced but somehow there is just enough.

Nothing is predictable.  Maybe it never was, but it seems even less so now.  The massive amount of unpredictability leaves people without stability, reliability and a sense of peace.  Even positive, unexpected change has a way of throwing people off, leaving us with a sense of paranoia.   I cannot help but think of the man possessed by demons, hanging in the tombs near the Gerasenes.  Jesus confronted that man as if nothing was unexpected or unusual.  Maybe Jesus understood the man’s insanity was really quite rational. 

Even when I’m crazy, God is still God.  God has me when I’m crazy.