Early Rising

While I must confess to enjoying more sunsets than sunrises, I also acknowledge that there is something very special about the morning.  The spiritual giants from the past always made such good use of it as they allowed themselves to be energized by the newness of a new day with the God they loved.  I have two favorite morning songs.  One causes me to sing with great enthusiasm, "O what a beautiful morning, O what a beautiful day..."  The second favorite morning song brings forth a spirit of joy and awe as I sing, "When morning guilds the sky, my heart awakening cries, May Jesus Christ be praised..."   I have often gone out on the front porch here at the farm and offered my voice to the praise unfolding to the Creator.    

Morning surely speak to each of us in different ways.  For some it is a sign of God's grace as He rouses us from our sleep for another day of living   For another it might speak of a clean slate and the way God is always ready to offer forgiveness to us.   Some speak of the morning as a symbol of a new opportunity which God is always eager to provide to us.  For the mystics of the past and present it points to a moment for stepping into the stream of what God is about in the world.  Regardless of how it is viewed and described, each morning is a gift regardless of whether it is one of sunshine or rain.   

What a commentary it is on our society to realize that this gift of morning is so wasted and taken for granted.  For so many it is just a platform for launching a busy and activity filled day.  It is not a moment to be experienced, but one which enables us to get started on our journey toward the evening when we feel like we can catch our breath once again for an hour or two.   There is nothing which better prepares us for our daily journey like some quiet time in the morning with the One who gives us the day.  For those who declare they would like to have such a time, but the morning is too filled with preparation for the rest of the day, the solution is simple.  Get up earlier.

The Valley Yet to Be

Some say dreams come and go.  The darkness gives them life and the light chases them away.  Some are indeed so fleeting they are ever forgotten, but some come and never go away.  They linger in the waking hours, they tantalize the soul with unseen realities, and keep our minds captivated in the mystery.  A dream came the other night, or maybe, it should be said, it came in the twilight between here and there.  It was a dream filled with visions of a valley so rich in color and so full of a morning light that was coming that I knew it was a dream of a valley yet to be.  It was like a freshly painted portrait so full of coming light that I knew the valley of my dream was called heaven.    

Perhaps, the dream came in the night it came because of the nearness of the night to the day of All Saints and my thoughts racing toward it.  The list of saints on the other side grows longer with the passing of each year.  I have heard it said by some that there are more friends and family on the other side of the veil than on this side where sight prevails over faith.  As the years continue to bring us to more and more moments of saying farewell, I am beginning to see what is ahead more clearly.  What is ahead is not just that moment when others here will say farewell to me as one gone from here, but instead I know that what is ahead is "a homeland...a better country, that is a heavenly one."  (Hebrews 11:14-16).   

What we learn from our journey from the womb of conception to the heavenly Home is that life is so very precious.  What makes it so precious is the grace of God which for some mysterious reason continues to provide the amazing gift of being here.  Being here makes it possible for us to love and to be loved which is another precious gift.  Being loved and loving enables us to see beyond ourselves and if we learn to look far enough, we begin to catch glimpses of those who have finished the course of this life and the beauty which awaits us in the valley yet to be.

The Hidden Ritual

I think someone has already written a book about visiting a different church every Sunday for a year, but at times I have felt like I was heading in that direction.  Today worship took place in church number nineteen on this journey that goes back about a year and a half.  It has finally brought me to finding a church home, but the journey from being completely disconnected to finding myself connected to a congregation has been a circuitous one.  As one who was never able to do much church visiting, I must admit it has been an interesting experience.    

One of the things noticed again today is what must be a rather contemporary trend as I never would have thought of doing it.  In many of the congregations visited there is no moment for offering plates to be passed along the pews.  Instead, it is announced at some point during the service that the offering plates are at the door so people can put in their offerings as they leave.  In most of the places where this is the practice, the announcement is followed by the traditional singing of the Doxology.  As someone who has seen a thousand offering plates passed among the pews, I find the practice somewhat strange to the point of saying that I miss the offering plates coming my way.   

I wonder about the rationale behind the change.  While I have not talked to today's preachers about the change, I think I know some of the reasons.  Despite the expediency of saving a few moments, or eliminating the discomfort some might experience, it seems that the act of giving is an important part of worship and I miss this particular response being given expression in our gatherings.  Old preachers can get set in their ways and I suppose I am guilty at both points.  Being old and set in my ways.  I just miss making a bigger deal about giving some of what He has given to us back to Him.

Alleluia! Alleluia!

'Tis the season for singing, "For All the Saints."  It is a great hymn sung midst a great season of worship. The words written as the Civil War was sending so many dead soldiers home has words that continue to resonate in our hearts and spirits,  "For all the saints, who from their labor's rest, who thee by faith before the world confessed, thy name, O Jesus, be forever blessed."   While this first verse is more well know, the fourth verse sends our spirits soaring as well, "O blest communion, fellowship divine! We feebly struggle, they in glory shine, yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.  Alleluia, Alleluia!    

In so many of our churches we repeat each Sunday that ancient creed which sends forth that glorious refrain, "I believe in...the communion of the saints."  Numerous have been the times when we have heard or read in moments of departure from this life to the next a text from Hebrews which says, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses..." (Hebrews 12:1).  The language, the texts, the music, and the images of All Saints worship are filled with so much spiritual power that we easily become like the Hebrews at Mt. Sinai trembling before the trumpet blast from heaven.  

It always seemed on All Saints Sunday that the veil between here and there was so thin that whispered murmuring could be heard from the other side and shades of the light of eternity brightly shining on the other side could be seen somewhere on the edges of what could not be seen with the eyes of earth, but only with the eyes of the heart.  The season of All Saints is a moment when the possibility of glory breaking in among us seems as real as the possibility of the next breath.  "Alleluia!  Alleluia!"                                

The Creative Light

To be alive is to be immersed in the holy.  What is true is not evident to all.  Actually, what is true is not embraced by most.  There are so many expressions of evil around us, so much human depravity apparent to the casual eye, and the probability of nature's fury being unleashed in some corner of the world to think that holy is where we walk.  Despite all these things we lift up as signs of a broken world and society, it remains true that the creation which surrounds us is holy space.  It is holy space not because of what happens or does not happen within it, but because it bears the creative markings of the Holy Creator.    

The one Word we cannot never get away from in any unfolding or developing theology are the first few verses of Genesis.  "In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void...Then God said, 'Let there be light...' " (Genesis 1:1-3).  While we jump to a faulty conclusion that the light mentioned here is the light of the heavens, the light we we see above us comes into existence on the fourth day.  The light of the first few verses is the creative power and holy energy that speaks to us of the essence, or the heart, or the inmost core of the Holy Creator.  This eternal light is what holds everything that is and will be together and it is the creative light which not only is woven into the fabric of everything created, but is the light which has the power to penetrate any darkness.   

There are certainly things about the created order which defy our attempts at logical packaging and stretch so far into what cannot be understood that it can only be spoken of as holy divine mystery.  To speak of the beauty and the chaos as a part of the mystery of the created order is not a cop out, or intellectual escape clause to use when life gets too confusing, but a way of acknowledging the reality of the eternal light from which all things have come into being.  Regardless of what happens around us in the creation, this light from the beginning will never cease to shine.

The Heavenly Place

My Mom died during the covid pandemic in 2020.  My Dad died in December of 2023.  Had they both lived to know today here on earth, they would have celebrated their 64th wedding anniversary.  My sister and I have been remembering and anticipating this anniversary day for more than just a few days.  A retired pastor friend who has been a friend to our family for a very long time called tonight from his home in another state simply to say that he remembered this special day in the life of our family.  His call deeply touched my heart and when we hung up, I called my sister to tell her that someone other than the two of us remembered.   

We often are uncertain what to do when our friends experience the loss of a loved one.  Some folks avoid talking or remembering the ones we have lost for fear that talking will rekindle memories of a hard and difficult time.  Others are just so uncomfortable with the reality of their own mortality that not talking about the death of others is an avoidance mechanism.  Of course, there is always that feeling of inadequacy that is expressed as we say, "I don't know what to say" and then we do nothing.  Until we lose someone we love it is hard to understand how good it is to have someone remember the ones we love and to hear their names in conversation.  It does not change the fact that they are gone, but for the names of those we love to be called is a comforting reminder that they have not been forgotten.  

In the church it is the season for a special worship service known as "All Saints Sunday" in which the names of those who have died in the recent year will be called and remembered.  The list may seem long for some who are emotionally unaffected, but know that there are those among us who will be listening for the name of the one no longer here, but instead, there in the heavenly place. Hearing the name being called may bring tears from the heart, but it will also bring forth a spirit of gratitude that the one they love has not been forgotten. 

Remember

People travel thousands of miles and spend great sums of money to stand in certain places.  For some folks a trip to the Holy Land is a must while others dream only of standing on a beach in Hawaii.  It is also true that some are married to ancestral land or homes. It is where they want to be and at the end of the day, it is where they want to stay.  There are even some ordinary places in the landscapes of our lives which feel like holy ground to us.  As we start looking back over the years of our life, most of us will see these places which tug at our heart and our soul.   

The Biblical story reminds us of the importance of geography in our personal faith journey.  The story told within those holy pages is not a story told in a vacuum, but a story told in deserts and river crossings, burial caves and battlefields, small towns and gardens, synagogues and hills.  The Old Testament writers were constantly writing stories about the way God made Himself known in certain places and then telling the people, "Remember."    

There are things about each of our stories of faith that are important to pass on to the generations which follow us and it is inevitable that these stories will have some physical context.  I think often of the recent death of a man I knew as family.  Having lived into his late 80's, he had great stories to tell. Some were about fishing, but some were about personal faith.  With his death, we lost a great story teller and a library of memories.  Even at the risk of being repetitive as older people are prone to be, we need to keep telling the young of our family about the places where our own life changing encounters with God took place and then tell them, "Remember."