The Language of the Rain

The rain has its own language.  Sometimes it speaks so softly the ears strain to hear it.  Other times there comes down upon the house a rising roar much like the sound of angry bees disturbed on a cloudy day. Sometimes it sounds angry and other times its language feels like a lover wrapping their arms around you. The front porch here at the farm is my favorite place to listen. There under the shelter of the porch, I can stay dry and still be surrounded and immersed in its many sounds as it come and arrives and pours forth water upon drought stricken land.   

A clerk in a grocery store today said the rain sounded like life pouring down.  "Not bad for a college student," I thought.  Most people her age would only see the rain as an inconvenience.  She was right, you know.  Water is life giving.  I saw a picture today of some African children joyfully drinking and splashing as water poured forth from a deep well that was new to their village.  A few days ago a cup of ice water brought forth a huge smile on the face of a homeless guy who was standing at the corner sweating and hoping.  Another image recently seen was a young man coming up out of baptismal waters with hands raised in praise to God. 

Jesus spoke to a Samaritan woman at Jacob's Well about a water which when given by Him would become in those who receive "a spring of water gushing up to eternal life." (John 4:14).  The Revelation to John ends with the image of "the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God...." (Revelation 22:1).  The Word of God speaks of the spiritual water emanating from the throne of God and experienced through the person of Jesus Christ as being life giving.  As it comes to us, a river of living water fills us and no longer shall we want, for it is like the still waters which restores our soul. (Psalm 23:2).  When we drink of it, we shall not want for we shall be satisfied. (Psalm 23:1).

Confusing Verses

Salvation is a gift from God.  Ephesians 2:8 makes this clear as it says, "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this not your own doing; it is the gift of God."  The word from Ephesians is like bedrock.  What creates a bit of confusion for some is Philippians 2:12 which reads, "...work out your own salvation with fear and trembling..." How can salvation be a gift and something we are called to work out?  While no analogy is going to be perfect, is it not true that some are born with bodies built for running and some seem to have a natural ability to hear music and play music?  Is it not also true that those so gifted still must work and train so that their skills carry them past mediocrity to excellence?  

Salvation is a gift that opens the door to our finding and knowing once again our true self.  It must not come all at once since Jesus calls the imperfect ones we are to "be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." (Matthew 5:48).  The Apostle Paul was surely gifted with salvation understood that the the moment of gifting grace led to more, "I do not consider that I have made it on my own...I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus."  (Philippians 3:13-14).  

The Spirit of God is about His work in our heart even as we are called to be at work as well.  Sanctifying grace does not come in a moment, but over a life time.  The work of the early church after the Day of Pentecost is framed inside Acts 2:42.  "They devoted themselves to the Apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and prayers."  With these four disciplines these newly gifted disciples of Jesus began working out their salvation.  Disciplines have no saving power, but they do prepare us for what God wants to do in and through our life.

Pentecost Blessings

Being a retired preacher means it is not necessary to go to the church where you preach. I suppose after over forty years of listening to myself preach, it was time to listen to someone else have a go at it.  Retirement not only provides the opportunity of choosing, but also of going to more than one service of worship on the same Sunday morning.  Pentecost Sunday seemed like a good Sunday to exercise that privilege.  What was discovered was a Sunday of double blessing.  

The first church visited was one that had no denominational sign out front.  The worship was what is characterized as contemporary worship. The music though not preferred by this lover of the hymn book was good and the preaching was a strong Biblical message about Pentecost.  I saw some old friends there which was a blessing.  Another blessing came when I saw my name on their prayer list.  Once again I was humbled to the point of tears that my name had been called in these recent months of being treated for prostate cancer.  Overwhelmed was I when I introduced myself to someone and was told, "We have been praying for you.  May I share how God has answered our prayers?"  

The second worship service came later in a church where the sign matched my ordination papers.  "People Need the Lord," a favorite song that goes way back in my ministry was sung by the choir.  This preacher, too, thundered the Pentecost text from the second chapter of Acts.  An image he used which I hurriedly scratched on an offering envelope was framed inside the words, "The day when God showed up."  I carried the words home in my shirt pocket and in my heart.  It warms my heart and blesses me greatly to know that there are young preachers in the church where I have preached over forty years who are taking seriously the mantle of preaching for another generation.  "Bless us, O God of wind and fire!"

Prayer for Pentecost

"Lord, I pray that Pentecost would explode in Your church today.  Bring such disruption to our controlled institutional status quo that preachers want to run for safer places and  tongues so accustomed to Sunday monotone shout such praise that it seems as if their words are driven by holy power.  Lord, holy disruption and liturgical chaos is what we need.  We are a church set in our ways.  Like an old man who has lived so long as to only tell stories from the past, so has Your church become.  We need the holy fire.  We need  the wind that blows us off the seats of the status quo.   

Lord, I don't know how hard it was for You to pry those scared disciples of long ago loose from their fears, but the present day task looms so very large.  We pray for Your Holy Spirit to come, but we temper those prayers with "not today."  Predictable is how we like it.  We see order and control as spiritual virtues.  Shake the shepherds You have called to lead us.  Turn them into fire breathing prophets who speak not only to the injustice in our world, but also apostles who speak with boldness about the life changing power of Your Son, Jesus Christ.   

Lord, it is going to take a hotter fire and a stronger wind.  There is so much dross accumulated and complacency is like a blinding cloud.  Come, Holy Spirit, breathe not, but blow, blow from the four winds with such power that we know what it is to worship once again midst signs and wonders.  Bring in a season of repentance and forgiveness.  Cleanse us, Holy Lord.  We have become like dead men walking.  We wear with comfort the mask of the spiritual pretender and the robes of self righteousness.  Forgive us, Lord, but please come today with fire and wind.  Come and leave nothing but a church ready to be broken and poured out for Your sake.  Revive us, Lord, Much we need Your holy power in this day.  Amen."

The Journey Home

On the journey home yesterday from where we had been to where we were going,  exits were made several times from the hurried way to the softer and gentler places where real people lived.  Two homes became a haven filled with blessing.  First, there was a surprise visit with two friends known as college classmates back in the '60.  The welcome was so warm it felt like the journey had already ended at home.  It was clear that we were in sacred space where live had been and was still being lived,  

The second trip down the exit ramp was planned.  No sooner had we arrived than we were taken to a table filled with food that settled our hunger and conversation so real and rich that we felt as if we were  lingering around a table that was indeed a foretaste of glory divine.  It, too, was a wonderful moment that in some ways seemed almost sacramental, in the sense, that together as host and guest we were inside a precious holy moment.  

Before these moments of blessing, there was another.  It came shortly after our departure from where we had been.  Stopped at a traffic light, there came into view a man on the corner with a sign pleading for help.  As I rolled down the window and pulled out some cash from my billfold, he grabbed a walking stick that looked as ancient as did he and hobbled over to the open window.  As I handed him the money, my wife took a cup of ice given to us by my daughter for the journey and passed it to me to give to him.  It was hot afternoon full of humidity, the rain had not yet come, and it seemed he was more grateful for my wife's cup of ice than my folded cash.  Little did I know at the beginning of the journey, that a stranger and old friends would bring heaven crashing down among us. 

Walking in Harness

The farm which I call home is really a small place compared to the "real" farms all around me.  Most of the farmers around me work their farms as a way of life and the means by which they provide for their families.  While I have been called a "gentleman farmer" by some, I have never really liked that moniker since it seems to imply using the land for pleasure instead of its purpose.  I prefer to speak of the land as a working farm though I am the first to admit that less and less work is going on around here as the years are piling on.  The purpose of land that knows itself as a farm is to produce.  

I have tried over the years of being here to walk in harness with that purpose.  Gardens have been grown.  Fruit trees have been planted.  Chickens and cows have found a home here.  The pecan trees make their own harvest and the open fields grow hay and provide grazing land.  I am the maintenance man who tends and cares for the land.  After sixteen years of being here, I realize that I have been the servant of the land more than the owner.  I have come to understand that it is not I who owns the land, but the land which owns me.  It has become a part of me in a way I never knew was possible.  For all the sweat and sometimes blood invested over the years, it has blessed me with a place I know as home and where my soul belongs. 

In a larger sense whether we live in the open spaces or crowded urban streets, the earth, or the Creation as I prefer to call it, is our home.  Creation is a word which speaks to me more about the creative hand of God than words like earth or nature so I mainly use it as a way of expressing respect and honor to the creating God encountered in the first pages of Genesis.  Regardless of what we see outside our window and regardless of names on deeds, we live in God's Creation and as we do so, it is important that we walk in harness with its purpose.  Its purpose is not found in our desires, but in God's plan.

A Tale of Two Prayer Rooms

Every church should have a prayer room.  Not only should every church have a prayer room, it should be a room where prayers are prayed.  It should be regarded as one of the power sources of the church.  Money should be set aside for its maintenance and ministry, people should be challenged to be a part of its important ministry, and it should be in a prominent high traffic corridor instead of a place no one can find without a GPS system.   Churches have space dedicated for every conceivable ministry and no ministry is more important than its ministry of prayer.  

In the past year I have visited two prayer rooms.  The first one was hidden.  It was hard to find and it looked more like a storage area than a place which encourages and nurtures prayer.  It was obvious that it had once actually been used as a prayer room, but it had become cluttered with stacks of tables and leftover chairs.  The second prayer room was one I visited some ten years ago when the new church was built.  It was equipped and set up for praying.  It was a blessing to step inside that space and think about the lives its ministry would touch.  It was a place that was like a visible invitation to pray and I sat down back then for a time of praying. Today I was back in that church which was no longer new and I made my way to the prayer room.  I could hardly get in the door.  Boxes of Christmas decorations, chairs, tables, and all manner of stuff filled it from one side to the other.  It was a place of such promise in the beginning.  Today I left it filled with deep sadness. 

There are many reasons our churches are struggling.  There are many reason for mediocrity from the pulpit.  There are many reasons churches are more enamored with their history than hopeful for their future.  There are many reasons why churches are seeing so few professions of faith.  There are many reasons why baptisms are a rarity instead of the norm.  Their are many reasons why so many look at the church as an anachronism.  The most basic reason is found in the absence of a strong prayer room ministry.  It is a much needed and mostly neglected source of spiritual power.