The Creaking Board

 There is a time of the day,

   or so they who know, say,

    when the Lord walks this way.

      Adam heard Him in the evening,

        Jacob, like me, while sleeping.

          No sound of evening breeze here,

Just the creaking board down the hall. 

 

Moses heard Him in the crackling fire,

   Elijah in the sound of spinning wheels.

     The shepherds heard the singing angels,

       the folks in Jericho, a trumpet sound,

         and for Samuel, a mysterious voice,

          but around here, nothing so sublime,

Just the creaking board down the hall.

 

While it may seem I'm ungrateful,

   nothing is farther from the truth.

    'Tis good to be among those included

       in His walking among us each day.

        I've heard Him in the roaring sea,

          in many wondrous things, but lately,

Just the creaking board down the hall.

 

Ah, but yes, it is a mysterious thing,

   this sound of walking in the night.

    No feet are in the dark hall stirring.

      I know. I've heard and got up to look.

        There is no question it is Him

          and how is it that He lets me know?

Just the creaking board down the hall.     

Praying for Others

When someone ask us to pray for them, an appropriate question is, "How can I pray for you?"  It is a lesson I learned years when I went to the altar to pray with someone.  It was at a time when a Service of Prayers for Healing was a part of our monthly schedule.  A person came forward whom I knew was struggling with cancer so I immediately started praying about this issue in his life.  When I finished, he thanked me and said, "...but I came to ask for prayers for my brother."  Lesson learned.  We should not assume to know how to pray for someone until they tell us.   

There are a world of people around us who are overcome by overwhelming and unseen difficulties.  What we see and think we know may be nothing more than the tip of the iceberg.  As we remember the story of the four friends tearing up a roof in order to lower their paralyzed friend into the presence of Jesus, we see how this is true.  Both the friends and the man on the mat came for physical healing.  What Jesus said must have surely surprised them.  "Son, your sins are forgiven."  (Mark 2:5).  It was later that Jesus said to him, "I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go home." (Mark 2:11).  

Even though it may seem as obvious as day and night, it is not a good thing to assume we know another person's need.  We have known people who have desperately and fervently prayed for physical healing while others would have us pray for a peaceful journey into eternity.  Jesus could see and understand a hurting and broken person's real need.  We often cannot see.  It is a good thing to ask, "How can I pray for you?"

The Man in the Mirror

 In the mirror, there is this man,

    a brow of dirt and ashes,

     or is it the costly stain of sin

       he wears as he looks at me? 

         'Tis after all, shaped like the tree

where the saving Savior bled and died.

 

 In the mirror, the brow now clean,

    the stain scrubbed and washed away,

      the dark smudge that once glared

        and spoke of the unclean not seen

           goes now into tomorrow's light

just as if never worn by the brow.

 

In the mirror, a hand moves to remove

    what cannot be removed, the mark,

      the one not worn on the brow,

        but on the heart, where no one, 

          sees and knows still it is there

'cept the blessed Savior, yes, He sees.

 

In the mirror, a unseen hand now moves

    to wipe away that one dark blot

      that in the heart has so long lingered.

        'Tis strange how blood that stains

           can cleanse even the foulest spot,

the one unclean hands could not wash away.

 

In the mirror, now another man appears,

    the Suffering One, the Dying One,

      the One who scrubs the soul clean

       and even dares to call home the place

         once darker than the blot on my brow.

Praise be!  Gone now the dark spot on my heart. 

Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday.  People will be noticed in the market place wearing a dark gray smudge on their forehead.  It may even be in the sign of the cross.  Ash Wednesday opens the door to the season of Lent.  On Ash Wednesday liturgically minded Christians of many denominations will submit themselves to an ancient ritual known as the imposition of ashes.  It is indeed a strange moment within the life of the church as its members gather to be reminded of their mortality.  

"Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return," the priest will say as he or she looks people in the eye and marks them with ashes from the burning of last year's palm branches. For some stranger who walks into the service not really knowing what to expect, it can be a shocking, and perhaps, offensive moment.  After all, who wants to die?  Who among us, so sure we are going to live forever, wants to be reminded that we are going to die?  Even as we are linked together in birth so are we linked together in death.  The truth is we all need a dose of reality.  

Being reminded that our life is fragile, finite, and temporal may be a way of enabling us to live more attentive to each day.  Of course, there is no better one to tell us we are going to die than the church because it is also the one who tells us we are going to live.  Even though we die; yet, shall we live is the core gospel message.  At the end of the Lenten season, we will return to the church to celebrate the resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ who tells us that as surely as we die, we shall live because He has been enveloped in death's hold and overcome it. The victory He won is His gift to each one of us.

Sunday's Sermon

It was Sunday morning and the church crowd was going and coming.   He sat just outside the entrance way fo the sandwich shop with an open Bible midst his crossed legs. His clothing was in sharp contrast to the church crowd who had to notice him as they passed by.  The backpack pushed tightly against his leg appeared to be his only possession.  A coffee cup beside him said he had either made a purchase from inside or received a gift from someone who saw him.   

I am ashamed to admit it, but when I saw him all my internal voices of skepticism started wildly firing.  One said, "His timing for reading his Bible in public could not be better."  Another joined in, "What a great place to just sit. He doesn't even need a sign."  "He sure knows when and how to play the guilt card," was one of the last voices I heard before I heard a softer and kinder voice beside me saying, ""Let's buy him a sandwich."  All my inner voices ceased speaking.  There was no more to say.  

We bought him a sandwich.  "Friend," I said as I handed him our sandwich, "we wanted to share this with you."  He took it, thanked me, pushed it in his backpack and said, "I don't need it, but I have a friend who does."  I have a feeling God regarded his gift to his friend as a gift of greater value than mine.  Mine to him was wrapped thinly in love compared to the lavish abandonment wrapped around the gift he gave.  "Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver."  (II Corinthians 9:7)

The Chief Regret

One ot the benefits of living long enough to be a worn out Methodist preacher is time for looking back at the many years which are a part of memory.  There are many good memories.  Most of the good memories are centered around experiencing grace, being able to stand alongside of others as a pastor, and being privileged to always have a pulpit from which to preach the gospel.  Even as I am grateful for these memories that bring blessing, there are others which cause me to think about ministry in terms of what I would have done differently had I known then what I know now.   

One of the chief regrets about my years of ministry is that I did not spend more time intentionally being in His presence.  If I could do it over, I would spend more time on my knees.  I would choose to block out time to listen for God in the silence even as I had time blocked out for sermon preparation or meetings.  I would, of course, first had to learn how to be silent and to be in the silence that becomes filled with the holy.  I would be more intent about being available to God even it meant not being available for every phone call or coffee conversation about the business of the church.   

E.M. Bounds, a great prayer warrior from another generation, said and wrote many times that the source of the preacher's life is prayer. If I were doing it over again, I would take what I knew in my head and be more intentional about giving it flesh in my life.  Everything a preacher does emanates from the prayer room.  I would spend more time with the Source which, of course, this retired preacher and anyone else, preacher or not, can choose to do in the present moment God is giving. 

Thoughts on Transfiguration

The church calendar makes this Sunday special as it lifts up the moment of glory shared by Jesus and three of his disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration.  It is a powerful story about heaven breaking into earthly confines. It was surely an unexpected moment for those disciples.  One minute everything seemed to be orderly and predictable and the next moment they were nearly blinded by the brilliance of heavenly glory.  One moment it was them and Jesus and suddenly there appeared with Jesus, Moses and Elijah.  How did they know?  It is not like they were wearing name tags.  None were needed.  They knew.  

When God shows up in our presence with such attendant glory, we want to dig a hole somewhere and hide as did those disciples of long ago.  Or, maybe we shrug our shoulders, put our hands in our pockets, and silently slip out the exit door.  What is frightening about those moments when God breaks through the ordinary routines and expectations of our life is that there is usually some holy purpose which is a part of it.  If we think it just so we can shed a few tears, express a hint of emotions, and feel good about Jesus for a minute, we have missed the meaning of the glory.  

As wonderful as are those times when God seems near enough to touch and our hearts seem ready to burst, it is what is ahead that is important.  God does not bring us to those moments so we can live in them as the disciples would have chosen to do, but so that we can leave them with such an awareness of the power and presence of God that nothing is deemed impossible.  We have all had those moments filled with glory.  They may come in worship.  They may come in the quiet place we go for prayer.  They may come bursting forth from the creation around us.  One thing is sure. They come and when they come they make us different for the going that is ahead.