A Season of Blessing

The house here at the farm has become my home.  It is a simple place.  Very simple.  Perhaps, not so in the beginning, but over the years it has become a symbol of how God is calling me to live.  Simple, of course, is a relative word.  The fourteen hundred square foot home in which I live would be considered extravagant by some villagers of Uganda whom I have seen recently through the words of a Franciscan missionary.  At the other end of the spectrum, there are surely those who think it would be an impossible place to live.  For me it has become a good fit.  It is a visible call to simplify.  

One of the luxuries of my home is a ten by twelve porch out front.  This week in a way that has been special God has used it to bless my heart.  A few days ago a neighboring farmer and friend spent an hour or so sitting on the porch sipping a glass of ice water and chewing the fat.  Another day that same porch became a place to watch and feel the rain coming across the hay field and last night it provided a front row seat to a glorious full moon rising.  Certainly, it was not a trip to see the wonders of the world in far away places, but no one can convince me that I have not in the last few days seen and experienced wonders of the world.   

It is a good thing to be rooted somewhere.  It is a good thing to live in a place that invites me to live the slower life.  Here at the farm, things do not happen in a hurry.  The hay harvested yesterday took months to grow as did the pecan crop which hangs heavy in the trees.  I am sure there have been many who have wanted to live leaving their mark on the world, but here in this simple place I have learned that it is the Creation of the Heavenly Father that is leaving its mark on me.  It is a season of contentment and gratitude.  It is a season of blessing.   

Wet Grace

I knew you were coming, friend rain.

In the field wet with sweat, I saw 

you hovering in the distant gray

as if you were gathering strength

to come my way to renew and bless

the work of my hands on the land

and for this gift, I give you thanks.

 

With tractor now sheltered, and I

settled in a chair on the porch,

I heard what was seen coming

from the distant there to here

and when I knew you were near

I wanted to jump from the porch

and share a dance of joy with you.

 

But, old friend, such days are gone.

Father time and old stiff knees 

have taken away my two step,

but still I slowly rise and go

out from under the roof above

to the air now more than filled

with falling baptismal waters.

 

What is old now knows the new

that comes from being washed

with that not earned, but given

to this weary and worn out soul.

Wet now with what has come,

I raise these aching two hands

in praise to the One who gives. 

Words about Grace

The twentieth chapter of Matthew records Jesus telling the parable of the landowner.  The landowner goes out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard.  Several times during the day he goes back to the place where those wanting to work gathered to hire more workers.  Finally, when the sun had about an hour of daylight left, he goes back to the gathering place to hire another group to work the last hour of the day. The problem revealed in the parable is that he pays the ones who worked an hour at the end of the day the same amount he pays those who started and worked the whole day.   

What seems to be a parable about an unfair labor practice is at a deeper level a parable about the grace of God.  Those who worked the whole day felt they deserved more than those who came at the end of the day.  Few of us would disagree.  If we had been one of those who arrived in the field before the sun was up, we would be hollering, "It is is not fair.  I deserve more than these others."  What the parable boldly declares is that grace received is not based on what we do.  To say that grace is dependent on our human effort would deny the meaning of grace.  

The first thing which must be understood about God's grace is that it is a gift from Him. It is not a Christmas gift exchange.  It is not something that comes to us because we have given to Him.  Our birth is a gift.  The air we breathe is a gift.  The wealth we have and the life of affluence we enjoy is not something we have earned, it is a gift.  This is not to say that we have not worked hard, but it is to say that the ability, the energy, the health, and the opportunity is not ours to claim for it is a gift from God.  Life is about grace.  Life is lived and enjoyed because God blesses us unconditionally with His grace.  It is not something we deserve or earn.  All we can do is be grateful.

The Bottom of the Barrel

I remember once upon a time in my ministry when I had an argument with God which ended up much like the one Job had with God.  It was a time when I was wallowing around in a sea of self pity.  Those of us who sign on as Methodist preachers submit ourselves to going where sent, or at least, it used to be that way.  The place I was sent had more than its share of problem people who found fault with most everything I did.  I had been serving churches for more than just a few years, but at this one I started whining and complaining like those Hebrews who after sixty five days of freedom complained against Moses (and God) because of their hunger in the wilderness. (Exodus 16:1-30).  

I not only complained to God about the people He had given me to shepherd, but I also told Him I deserved better than what He had given me.  It was an argument that ended up like the one Job had with God.  I told God I deserved a better place to preach and He told me I did not deserve any place to preach.  I had enough sense to know He was right.  I did not deserve even the smallest church and certainly not the larger congregation to which I preached each Sunday.  I did not deserve any pulpit to preach and only had one because of the grace of God.  

Life really is all about the grace of God.  Grace given is not what any of us deserve.  We may say that people should get what they deserve, but such a conviction falls apart as soon as we start talking about ourselves.  Who among us wants what we deserve when we can receive the undeserved and unconditional grace of God?  The truth is none of us would trade the world of grace for the world of getting what we deserve.  The opportunity I have been given to preach the gospel is not something I deserve.  I have often said when God called me to preach, He was scraping the bottom of the barrel. As one rescued from the bottom of the barrel, I am grateful for the grace of God.

Sleepy Prayers

I have met God so many times in the early morning that I have decided it must be His best time.  Of course, that raises a deep and profound theological question.  When is it morning for our God who does not measure time as we mere mortals measure it?  In the midst of my early morning theological pondering, I remember, "God neither slumbers nor sleep."  (Psalm 121:4.  I remembered, too, the way Elijah taunted the prophets of Baal on Mt Carmel by asking them if their gods were asleep because He knew Yahweh was wide awake and ready for whatever.  

I must confess that there have been those times in my early morning meetings with God when He might have nodded off due to boredom.  After all, when He hears the same prayers prayed in the same way over and over again, what else could He be expected to do.  I know I have fallen asleep in some of my early morning conversations with Him, but I also know that whenever I do drift off and wake up, He is still watching and listening.  God is certainly steadfast in more ways than one.  

There was a time years ago when I invited people to a prayer experiment and which required waking up at 5 am on Sunday morning and praying for an hour.  Some suggested six o'clock since it was closer to normal waking up time, but the point of the earlier hour was intentionality and not convenience. Surprisingly, there were always about twenty early morning risers during the several years of this ministry of prayer.  Again, I must confess.  There were times I fell asleep, but I took consolation in the fact that I was where I committed to be. 

Words for the Journey

A Thomas Merton quote came to me this morning while doing some reading. "We are often confronted by questions that we cannot answer because the time for answering them has not yet come."  I have turned the page and closed the book, but the words still linger in my mind.  Oh, I have gone on about other things; yet, when my mind comes to a neutral position, the quote comes again with such force that it cannot be ignored. Is it, perhaps, a word that helps us understand the silence from God that often follows some question we are asking Him?  Does it explain the moments when He seems to be saying "No" when we want to hear "Yes" ?   

While these thoughts are possibilities that might help us unlock the meaning of the quote, the authors of the book highlighted it to enable the readers to understand that the spiritual life is a journey.  A spiritual journey is a venture into the unknown.  The prototype for the sojourner is Abraham who heard God calling him to go to a land not yet revealed.  Regardless of how much of a planner we might be, if we choose to walk with Jesus we are going to walk into unplanned moments and unchartered territory. It might be said that when we travel with Jesus, we do so on a need to know basis.  

The questions that we cannot answer may be the Spirit's way of pushing us forward into a season of knowing what cannot be understood until we get further along the way.  Such a way is hard to embrace in our culture of instant gratification.  It is hard to accept when a hand held device can be asked any question and an answer comes instantaneously.  Culture's way is not God's way.  God's way is the way of not knowing.  It is the way of mystery.  It is the way of trusting that when the time for answering the unanswerable questions comes, what we strive to know will be revealed to us. 

A Grandfather's Gift

I ran up on an essay today about John Bunyan's "The Pilgrim's Progress."  As many know it was written while Bunyan was enduring a twelve year imprisonment.  This allegory of the Christian life is a religious classic.  When I finished the essay I thought about the man who gave me my first copy of the book. His name was the Rev. William Raymond Wilder, Sr.  When his son married my widowed mother, he took on a grandfather role in my life.  

Actually, my copy of Bunyan's book came to me when he died in 1970 and I was given a number of the books from his personal library.   The books I received from him were the first ones which went on the shelves of this young about to be a preacher.  His books introduced me to G. Campbell Morgan, E. Stanley Jones, Charles Spurgeon, G. Ray Jordan, and someone as unusual as Billy Sunday. "The Pilgrim's Progress" was then and continues to be regarded as a treasure.  It was an old worn volume when I got it and so it has remained.  It's pages had been turned many times and I continued turning them over the years. 

Anyone who has yet to read Bunyan's allegory would do well to pick up a copy and begin to read.  It describes a character known as Christian as he leaves the City of Destruction and journeys toward the Celestial City.  The trials and temptations he encountered will resonate with each one of us as we continue our own personal journey with Jesus.  When I gave my five minute retirement speech at Annual Conference back in 2010, I was proud to identify myself as a third generation Methodist preacher.