The Gift of Silence

The farm has given me its silence.  It allows me to share in it, be a part of it, and to be blessed by it.  It is a gift I never really sought, but once received, it has been life changing.  It is as if I have been dropped in a deep river able to know nothing but the water all around me.  So, it is with the silence.  I am immersed in it, deeply immersed.  Immersed within it, I am learning to live, to think, to be, to know myself, and to know who created me.  The gift of this silence is like the gift of a stone thrown into the pond, there is no end to the rippling power in my heart.  

There is no edge it has not touched.  There is no depth it has not gone.  There is no barrier which stands in its way.  The silence and I have become the same.  There is a oneness in those moments when I simply allow myself to be, asking nothing, expecting nothing, but experiencing everything.  This silence is surely a living silence as surely as everything in creation lives.  As the trees and the grass has been given life, so has the silence in which I am immersed.  I can feel it moving as it breathes.  I can hear the beat of its heart.  It, too, along with me and every living thing which God has placed here is alive and to it and everything else I am connected and joined.  It is a gracious and undeserved blessing.  I am grateful.

In the silence of the farm I have read the first chapter of Genesis.  Not once, but many times.  Many, many times.  What was there before the noise of the animals?  What was there before the waves of the sea touched the shores of land?  What was there before the sounds of men and women talking in the Garden? Before things were created for the ears to hear, there was the silence.  It is a silence that was not quenched by the sounds created in Genesis, but a silence that continues to exist as surely as does the created earth and air itself.  As did all created things, we came into being out of the silence.  When we learn to live in the ever existing silence, we will know what it is to live.  We will know what it is to be home.

The Call of God

Back in the day some sixty years ago, the word I heard that changed the direction of my life was commonly known as a call to preach.  As the years rolled into an era of many specialized ministries, the term I knew became out dated.  No longer were people called to preach; instead, they were called to ministry.  It is, perhaps, a better way of speaking of that moment when someone realizes their life no longer belongs to them in the sense that God wants them to be involved in a life of full time service in His behalf.  

God's call is a powerful thing.  Because of it Mother Teresa went to the poorest of India and washed the feet of those so sick no one would touch them.  Because of it E. Stanley Jones passed up on opportunities to live safely in a college professor's office and also went to India.  Because of it Burleigh Law became a martyr in the Congo.  Because of it some college friends lost themselves in service to the forgotten in a large metropolitan area.  Because of it many of those who grew up in my day became preachers in churches scattered across this state and beyond.  There is no end to what men and women will do simply because they have heard the voice of God calling them to let go of personal dreams and plans in order to embrace His plan for their lives.  

The truth is God's call comes to everyone of us in some form or another.  Sometimes it comes for a life time and sometimes it comes for a season.  When we say "yes" to Jesus we are not just saying, "Yes, I know You are my Savior," but we are signing up for whatever.  When we are baptized, it is not just a feel good moment in the church, but for those who take it seriously, it becomes a moment when one declares himself or herself available for the work of the Kingdom of God.  We are saying that God can count on us. I am amazed at the ministries to which some are called which require not a seminary degree, or ordination, but only a willing heart. 

Behold, the New Has Come!

Is it not a uncommon feeling to feel somewhat lost at times.  Feeling adrift and going know-not-where might be one way to describe it.  Someone else might speak of being uprooted from all that is familiar. Another might simply experience it as a feeling of "dis-ease."  Perhaps, the common denominator to all these images is not being sure who we are and where we are.  Certainly, it is not something we carry with us as the every day baggage of our life, but instead it seems that there are seasons of our life in which we experience these times of feeling dislocated and separated from our self.  

This should not be such a surprising moment when it appears for life is always changing.  It is always becoming, or to use one of my favorite terms, life is always unfolding before us.  It is the nature of life.  As life does what it is created to do, it brings us into new beginnings which usher us into what can only be described as the new normal for our life.  The old normal has passed away, behold, the new has come.  It sounds a bit Biblical, does it not? 

These new normal seasons may come to us in a traumatic way.  They may come as we struggle with a disease only known about but not experienced until today.  Or, they come after the loss of someone we love, or even through some unexpected change like the loss of a job, the death of a pet, or a near miss accident from which we walk away with no injuries, only surprise.  They also come to us as God leads us or takes us out of our comfort zones and the Holy Spirit finds Himself with the task of helping us to become rooted and settled in the new world which has become our home.  In these moments of not being sure who we are and where we are, trust and patience will enable us to make the uncomfortable journey from where we are to where God is planning for us to be. 

Wesleyan Economics

My first adventure as an entrepreneur came when I was just a young boy.  I went downtown in Waycross and hawked boiled peanuts for ten cents a bag.  I remember selling all my bags and coming home with $3.60.  It was then that my mother taught me my first economics lesson.  She said I should pay for the cost of the peanuts.  She would not charge me for her labor.  I did as she said and still had what seemed like a nice sum to a boy who had nothing in his pockets at the beginning of the day. The next part of the economics lesson caught me by surprise.  

"You need to take out 10% of what is left and put it in the offering plate tomorrow when we go to church.  The first 10% goes to God," she said as she concluded the lesson.  As I got older and became a more serious wage earner, I practiced and preached that spiritual discipline for two reasons.  It was Biblical and my mother taught me to do it.  On the way to where I am now, I learned the tithe was nothing to brag about; it was the minimum.  More recently I have been thinking about something John Wesley said about money in one of his sermons.  "Earn all you can, save all you can, and give all you can," surely makes a good three point sermon for any preacher.  

What has stayed with me during these recent reflections is the last phrase, "give all you can."  It is a word which takes us beyond being satisfied with giving God the minimum which is an easy choice to make.  There are many coffers of resources with which God blesses us. Whether we are talking about giving money, or our time, or our energy, or anything else, giving all we can is always a better choice than being satisfied with the minimum.

Before the Rising Sun

Before the rising sun came, 

the dream that tagged along, 

went, and I wondered, where?

Is it so for the other old men?

Do they dream dreams like me

to wake and watch them flee

before the cock a doodle do?

'Twas such a good one, too,

this now gone dream of mine.

I long to find it in memory,

to know again it is mine, 

but, alas, what has come

like all things that are here,

is gone to be no more.

If dreams reveal our soul,

I must venture forth now

without knowing the way

which in the dark unfolded.

Must I now step amiss

and stumble on some path

not intended for this day? 

O, Revealer, of all that is,

of all that is not yet to be,

guide these faltering feet,

make the dream a vision

wider than a single night,

one that will show the way

to this searching soul of mine.

Watch Out!

Prejudice is a hard thing to lick.  Real prejudice is rooted deeply in us because of the modeling influence of the important and influential people in our lives.  It can also be so imbedded in the culture around us that we do not see that it is evil, only that it is acceptable.  The Apostle Paul tells a telling story on Simon Peter in his letter to the Galatian Christians.  Peter, of course, has an impressive resume.  He was a disciple of Jesus for three years and not just any disciple, but one of three who were often pulled apart from the others for special moments with Jesus.  

He was the rock upon which Jesus said the church would be built and on the Day of Pentecost, he and the others were overpowered and filled with the Holy Spirit.  A disciple became a Spirit filled Apostle who preached the new church's first sermon at Pentecost.  Being a Jew, Simon Peter grew up in a culture that regarded non-Jewish people as second class.  Peter's culture taught him there were Jews who were God's chosen and everyone else was a Gentile whose status might have been a little higher than slaves, but not much.  

It would seem that a man so spiritually blessed would live by that word the Apostle Paul wrote.  In Romans 10:12 Paul wrote those revolutionary words,  "For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek, the same Lord is Lord of all."  When Peter went to Galatia to visit Paul and the churches he willingly ate with the Gentile converts, but when Jewish members of the Jerusalem Church came, Peter would no longer eat with the Gentiles.  Paul called Peter out for his hypocrisy that was birthed by a life time of prejudice against the Gentiles.  Be careful when saying, "I am not prejudice" for unless our heart is completely surrendered to God, it is likely to show up and surprise us. 

Rings and Repentance

I am a misfit in this society of ring wearers.  I grew up with the notion that rings are worn on the fingers of the hand and nowhere else.  Today rings are worn on the ears, the lips, the nose, the navel and other places which I leave to your imagination.  My problem with the ring wearers is my reaction to them.  I see them and immediately begin a process of mental devaluation.  I am not bragging.  I am confessing.  What I am doing is letting a judgmental spirit have a place in my heart which is surely troublesome to the Holy Spirit who is working to make my spirit reflect the heart of Jesus.   

This problem of mine, dare I call it sin, slapped me in the face the other day in worship.  I was visiting a church which I had never attended.  I saw a man dressed in the robe of the clergy.  His back was to me as I tapped his shoulder to ask a question about the Sacrament which was going to be offered.  When he turned around, I immediately saw his nose ring.  It was a small thing, but suddenly it was all I could see.  As I sat there in the pew, I started building my case against the young man.  Before I finished, he stood and preached a sermon I wish I could have preached.  It was indeed a Word of the Lord.  

As the holy bread was placed in my hand and I dipped it in the cup, I had much to repent.  Prejudice does not always show itself in something as obvious as skin color, but in the small and subtle ways we allow ourselves to put on robes of self righteousness and see ourselves and others in a way that is displeasing to God.  To live in a way that displeases God can only be defined as choosing sin.  Prejudice does this.  It drops in upon us in unguarded moments and the only real answer to the problem is a heart surrendered completely to the Holy Spirit.