Ken Sehested
¶ Processional. “Who then shall stir in this darkness, / prepare for joy in the winter night. / Mortal in darkness we lie down blindhearted, / seeing no light. / Lord, give us grace to awake us, / to see the branch that begins to bloom; / in great humility is hid all heaven / in a little room.” —“What Is the Crying at Jordan,” The Miserable Offenders
¶ Invocation. “Let us consider how to incite one another to love and good works . . . encouraging one another. . . .” —Hebrews 10:24-25
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I can think of no better set of New Year’s resolutions than this trilogy:
- Resolve to be a minister of encouragement.
The ministry of encouragement is the most overlooked, least expensive and most effective thing we can do for each other. It takes no special training, no claim to authority or office, no brilliance of mind or eloquence of speech. Only an awareness that courage is contagious.
In particular though—if you are a member of a congregation whose pastor(s) is a source of nurture, send them a note of encouragement. Being a clergyperson has always been a challenge, but even more so in this cultural context. Here’s a note we just sent to our pastors:
“In case you don’t hear this enough: We are deeply grateful for the many ways you each bring insight, comfort, and inspiration—week after week, through the text and to the world, in both high holy and ordinary days, in spoken words, sung lyrics, prayerful invocation, and shared engagement—not to mention the innumerable hours you spend orchestrating the gifts of others in the Circle who also have testimony and discernment and energy with which to animate our little flock of Jesus.”
[For more see “The ministry of encouragement”.]
- Resolve to keep seek opportunities to actively resist the marketers of fear and to be an advocate for public justice—in whatever ways those engagements cross your path, and however daunting the steep climb needed for a flourishing community, in ways bold and bodacious or incremental and behind the scenes. Yes, ours is a threatening age, given the prospect of climate collapse, the implosion of democratic institutions, the continuing scourge of racial animus and economic inequality, to name just a few. But despair is often a disguised form of narcissism. Get over yourself, and give in to something bigger, more grand than consumer indulgence and entertainment.
And in so doing, consider this invitation from Rivera Sun, novelist, activist, trainer in nonviolent social change: “There is a place between passivity and violence. I’ll meet you there.”
- Resolve to be an intercessor. If that sounds overly pious, that’s because our language has been hijacked. Here’s how New Testament scholar and activist Walter Wink speaks of such work:
“Intercessory prayer is spiritual defiance of what is in the way of what God has promised. Intercession visualizes an alternative future to the one apparently fated by the momentum of current forces. History belongs to the intercessors. . . . By means of our intercessions we veritably cast fire upon the earth and trumpet the future into being.”
It is primarily in our communal worship—however formal or folksy, however clearly defined or fluid the membership—that we practice such imagination. It is from others that we receive crucial information about who we are, the contour of our gifts, and when and where to practice them. We are not autonomous, self-made, solitaries or sovereigns, but rather are built for relation and communion. Not even the dirt is self-made: A single gram of forest soil can contain as many as a billion bacteria, up to a million fungi, hundreds of thousands of protozoans, and nearly a thousand roundworms.
It is no cause for qualm that we are each such small creatures in the scheme of things. Rather, it is a wondrous revelation that we are part of such a colossal unfolding of spirit into flesh, flesh into spirit. Reweaving the torn and mangled parts, however anear or afar, is our joyful calling.
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Hymn of resolve. “I Wanna Be Ready,” Amos Machanic.
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3.5. Finally, the point-five: Instead of a fourth recommendation, because this one is neither the same
as the third nor is it separate, unmoored, or optional.
In the course of our intercessions, concrete possibilities for interdiction will open, when we actively, in sometimes granular detail, and fearlessly work to forestall the powers of shaming and maiming and nudge, however incrementally, beggarly life toward its promised flourishing, when “each will sit ‘neath their own vine and fig tree, and none shall be afraid” (Micah 4:4).
It is an exculpatory illusion to say “I love everybody.” Nobody loves everybody. You can only love this one, that one, the other one. Love requires the expenditure of assets—time, attention, security, reputation—and (I say with constant regret) we all have limits.
We each invest our paltry assets as best we know how, and make adjustments or redirection as circumstances indicate. The goal remains: that, someday, scarcity gives way to bounty, sorrow gives way to rejoicing, the hungry are fed and suppressive thrones will tumble. Our primordial mothers—Hannah (1 Samuel 2:1-10) and Mary (Luke 1:46-53)—testify to this uprising of Heaven’s intent for Earth’s reconstitution.
So we live, as best we can and with all our imperfections, as if this truth is even now springing from the ground. And we pray: Come quickly, Lord Jesus.
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Benediction. “A prayer for the New Year.” (2:30 video)
Recessional. “Benedictus.” —Karl Jenkins from “The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace,” performed by Hauser with the Zagreb Philharmonic Orchestra and Choir Zvjezdice of Zagreb, Croatia
[For more on the topic of new year’s resolutions, see “New Year’s Resolutions: Promise-making in response to the Word of God”]
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