The Comma
14/03/12 05:18
The comma has been around the United Church of Christ for several years now. I was reluctant at first. It was related to a national advertising campaign, and I’m not much on advertising. I don’t know much about how it works and I am, frankly, skeptical of all advertising. It seems like a way of pressuring people to do what they otherwise would not do. I don’t think that is the business of the church or any other voluntary organization. The slogan is “Never put a period where God has put a comma.” It isn’t a quote from the Bible. It isn’t from a famous theologian. It is from a famous person: Gracie Allen.
That comma is persistent, however. Not very many people shared my initial reaction. The campaign, now officially known as the “Stillspeaking Ministry,” continues. And I have been wearing a comma pin most of the time these days. In fact, I have been giving them away. When friends or members of the church ask about the comma, I explain it and if they ask where they can get a comma, I tell them they have come to the right place, take mine off and give it to them.
How I came to be wearing the comma is a long story.
One inspiration was Sybil Pogany. I married into her niece. Sybil grew up in one of the most impoverished areas of the nation in the midst of hard times. She got married toward the end of the Great Depression. The guy who swept her off of her feet was the son of Hungarian Immigrants. They settled into a mixed farming/ranching operation near Isabel, South Dakota. It was not a life of luxury, warming the lambs in the house because there was no place else where it was warm. They mined a little coal from a vein on the edge of their property. The school district used construction equipment to carve out their coal. The Poganys used pick and shovel and a pickup truck. They never had children. By 1960, they were nearly out of business – there just wasn’t enough profit in the small farm to make a living. They went to work as managers of the state church camp. Sybil went back to school and earned her degree and became a schoolteacher. They lived two miles off of the highway, which itself could be a challenge in the winter. They never owned a four-wheel drive vehicle. Bill put chains on the old Ford 8N with a rear blade and plowed Sybil out to the highway where she commuted with her old rambler. Then in the late afternoon he’d plow back out there to meet her at the road.
I don’t know when Sybil’s first bout of cancer came, but it was some years before I met her. When the cancer came back the prognosis wasn’t good. But they went through treatment after treatment. She stayed well enough to make a few more trips. They visited the Holy Land together.
Sybil’s saying was, “Whenever God closes a door, he opens a window.” It was her version of the comma pin long before an ad agency got a hold of the United Church of Christ.
It seems like I’ve been discouraged quite a bit lately. It is nothing big. I think of Sybil. I have never been asked to face a fraction of the challenges she overcame in her life. I’ve been blessed with health, children, a grandson and a decent wages for all of my adult life. Getting to and from work is not a daily struggle for me. I’ve been reading John Paul Lederach’s stories of the frustration of trying to negotiate peace settlements in some of the world’s most intractable conflicts. I read Anthony Shadid’s tale of restoring a house after he survived being shot. And I know that Shadid ended up dying for this craft of journalism when he suffered an acute asthma attack while attempting to flee Syria on horseback.
I don’t have it rough. I don’t have a reason to complain.
I even know myself well enough to understand some of the dynamics of my discouragement. I’ve seen a bit of grief – nothing unusual, just my fair share, but grief is tricky and every time I think I’m over it, something reminds me that I am not. And I’ve been working with survivors following a recent suicide. It is deeply meaningful work for me, but I do have to watch my spirits when I get involved in such activities.
There have been a few too many times when I was ready to place a period when what I was being called to do was to take a pause and keep going. There has been a little grumbling in the church over the past year. It is nothing unusual, but some of the grumblers have been a bit mean. The timing of their actions and the places they were spreading complaints gave much more power to the grumbles than were deserved. Some days it seems like I spend more time responding to the complaints of a couple of people than ministering to the other hundreds in the congregation. Meetings of complaining people are not my favorite part of the job.
But it comes with the territory. I have nothing to complain about, really.
Still, I confess that there have been moments when I wondered if what God was saying was that it is time for me to move on and allow new leadership to emerge. It is a problem that is built into the work I do. Even though I serve a large number of people, I serve them one at a time. It is easy to be overly influenced by the minority and to lose focus on the will of the majority.
One of the most famous verses in all of Scripture is the focus for this week’s worship. It is the one that you see displayed at football games: John 3:16. It is also one of the most widely misinterpreted verses in the entire Bible. It says, “God so loved the world.” It doesn’t say “God loves people who agree with me,” or “God so loved those who see things my way,” or “God so loved the people of my religion or my point of view.”
God so loved the world - the whole world -no exceptions. God so loved the people who drive me up the wall. God so loved the people who see things differently than I do. God so loved the people who try to make a big deal out of a little thing. God so loved the world – the whole world – no exceptions.
Some people are able to wear the comma pin as a message to others who see it. It is good advertising, or so I am told.
I wear the pin as a reminder to myself. Take a breath – it is way too early to be feeling discouraged. When the door seems slammed in your face, stick your head out the window and breathe some fresh air. God intends for the whole world to know of the great love – a love that does not condemn, but brings new life.
God’s story continues, comma, after comma, after comma.
That comma is persistent, however. Not very many people shared my initial reaction. The campaign, now officially known as the “Stillspeaking Ministry,” continues. And I have been wearing a comma pin most of the time these days. In fact, I have been giving them away. When friends or members of the church ask about the comma, I explain it and if they ask where they can get a comma, I tell them they have come to the right place, take mine off and give it to them.
One inspiration was Sybil Pogany. I married into her niece. Sybil grew up in one of the most impoverished areas of the nation in the midst of hard times. She got married toward the end of the Great Depression. The guy who swept her off of her feet was the son of Hungarian Immigrants. They settled into a mixed farming/ranching operation near Isabel, South Dakota. It was not a life of luxury, warming the lambs in the house because there was no place else where it was warm. They mined a little coal from a vein on the edge of their property. The school district used construction equipment to carve out their coal. The Poganys used pick and shovel and a pickup truck. They never had children. By 1960, they were nearly out of business – there just wasn’t enough profit in the small farm to make a living. They went to work as managers of the state church camp. Sybil went back to school and earned her degree and became a schoolteacher. They lived two miles off of the highway, which itself could be a challenge in the winter. They never owned a four-wheel drive vehicle. Bill put chains on the old Ford 8N with a rear blade and plowed Sybil out to the highway where she commuted with her old rambler. Then in the late afternoon he’d plow back out there to meet her at the road.
I don’t know when Sybil’s first bout of cancer came, but it was some years before I met her. When the cancer came back the prognosis wasn’t good. But they went through treatment after treatment. She stayed well enough to make a few more trips. They visited the Holy Land together.
Sybil’s saying was, “Whenever God closes a door, he opens a window.” It was her version of the comma pin long before an ad agency got a hold of the United Church of Christ.
It seems like I’ve been discouraged quite a bit lately. It is nothing big. I think of Sybil. I have never been asked to face a fraction of the challenges she overcame in her life. I’ve been blessed with health, children, a grandson and a decent wages for all of my adult life. Getting to and from work is not a daily struggle for me. I’ve been reading John Paul Lederach’s stories of the frustration of trying to negotiate peace settlements in some of the world’s most intractable conflicts. I read Anthony Shadid’s tale of restoring a house after he survived being shot. And I know that Shadid ended up dying for this craft of journalism when he suffered an acute asthma attack while attempting to flee Syria on horseback.
I don’t have it rough. I don’t have a reason to complain.
I even know myself well enough to understand some of the dynamics of my discouragement. I’ve seen a bit of grief – nothing unusual, just my fair share, but grief is tricky and every time I think I’m over it, something reminds me that I am not. And I’ve been working with survivors following a recent suicide. It is deeply meaningful work for me, but I do have to watch my spirits when I get involved in such activities.
There have been a few too many times when I was ready to place a period when what I was being called to do was to take a pause and keep going. There has been a little grumbling in the church over the past year. It is nothing unusual, but some of the grumblers have been a bit mean. The timing of their actions and the places they were spreading complaints gave much more power to the grumbles than were deserved. Some days it seems like I spend more time responding to the complaints of a couple of people than ministering to the other hundreds in the congregation. Meetings of complaining people are not my favorite part of the job.
But it comes with the territory. I have nothing to complain about, really.
Still, I confess that there have been moments when I wondered if what God was saying was that it is time for me to move on and allow new leadership to emerge. It is a problem that is built into the work I do. Even though I serve a large number of people, I serve them one at a time. It is easy to be overly influenced by the minority and to lose focus on the will of the majority.
One of the most famous verses in all of Scripture is the focus for this week’s worship. It is the one that you see displayed at football games: John 3:16. It is also one of the most widely misinterpreted verses in the entire Bible. It says, “God so loved the world.” It doesn’t say “God loves people who agree with me,” or “God so loved those who see things my way,” or “God so loved the people of my religion or my point of view.”
Some people are able to wear the comma pin as a message to others who see it. It is good advertising, or so I am told.
I wear the pin as a reminder to myself. Take a breath – it is way too early to be feeling discouraged. When the door seems slammed in your face, stick your head out the window and breathe some fresh air. God intends for the whole world to know of the great love – a love that does not condemn, but brings new life.
God’s story continues, comma, after comma, after comma.