Order in the Church

I knew Advent was coming, but somehow it did not dawn on me that today was Christ the King Sunday until the preacher wearing his white stole of celebration announced it to us.  Christ the King Sunday is the last Sunday of the Christian year,  Advent which begins next Sunday marks the beginning of the new calendar year for the church.  Of course, not everyone in every church notes these two Sundays in such a way which is alright as folks are different.   

I happen to be one of those who finds meaning in the liturgical calendar with its seasons of Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, and Pentecost.  Each season enables the church to focus on a different dimension of  the gospel from Incarnation to Resurrection and beyond.  Along with the liturgical calendar, I always found a great resource for preaching in the Common Lectionary, a series of orderly readings from the Old and New Testament, the Psalms, and the Epistles.  The Lectionary features a three year cycle which means that Matthew is the focus for one year with Mark and Luke getting individual focus in the other two.  The gospel of John gets blended into the mix over the three year cycle.  

Certainly, the church calendar and lectionary readings are not for everyone, but it does provide an orderly and systematic discipline to guide the church as it seeks to proclaim the whole of the gospel.  For me the biggest plus was that it kept my preaching rooted in the Scripture which is where I have always believed to be God's planned source for all preaching.

Looking For Home

 Good Lord, I wait now

     with Your open Word

       and a seeking heart, 

         seeking no things, 

           only wanting You

more now than before. 

Lost it seems I've been, 

     always wandering

       to distant places, 

         constantly alone, 

           ever wondering 

if You look for me.

Forgiveness it says

     is mine now to know,

       but what if I ask

        and You turn Your head

          away and say "No."

Still, good Lord, I ask.

 

Just remember me,

    O Lord, I now pray.

      At the gate, tell me

       what I long to hear

         so that I will know

You welcome me home.

Words for the Heart

The Psalms are probably the most well known section of Holy Scripture.  There are 150 Psalms, but most of us are really familiar with only a few.  Some we can quote without missing a word and others we can remember verses from them; however, the most remain on the page without ever really getting into our heart as a few of them do.  It is interesting in times of trouble or uncertainty how quickly we are to search its words.  They were written by David, a man who wore many hats.  In Scripture he is known as shepherd, giant killer, warrior, and King.  He, like each of us, is both sinner and saint.  It is strange to some that a man such as David could write such words from the heart.   

It is because they are words which speak of what is felt within the heart that we find ourselves opening those old pages to read.  Written in a poetic style, the Psalms cause us to slow down, sit with our Bible in our lap for a moment, and let the words soak into the wounded places of our own heart.  They have a way of healing the wounds, bringing hope to the hopeless moments, enabling us to praise God in the midst of all kinds of circumstances, and giving us the "umph" we often need to get up and get going again.   They are not words to be read in a hurry which is a good thing for most of us who need to heed the markers on the road telling us to slow down.    

Like the poets who see the ordinary things we all see; yet, who reveals the extraordinary with them, the Psalmist speaks of the common emotions of the heart and then leads us toward seeing those feelings within us as a part of the way the Creator has made us.  Things we fear seeing within us, his words bring to the surface where God's grace and mercy prevail.  His words are not words to be dissected and discussed, but words that are like ointment that heal the wounded and broken places of the heart.  They are caring words and words that wrap us in the compassion of God.

Sitting a Spell

The mainstream definition of prayer is pointed toward asking God for some blessing.  It involves doing something, saying some words in the language of prayer, and asking, seeking, and knocking. (Matthew 7:7-11).  In most cases the experience of prayer is briefer than we figure it to be.  More often than not,  prayer is one dimensional.  We talk.  God listens.  Seldom does our praying include a time which is intentionally set aside for listening.  We talk about God speaking; yet, few give time for listening.    

As we read about some of the Biblical characters praying, it becomes a personal and sometimes desperate sharing with God that is full of anticipation followed by moments of encountering God's presence and power.  There is nothing timid about the prayers of those saints who walk across the pages of the book of Acts.  They were in over their heads and knew it.  The only way they could possibly make it, or see the signs and wonders they knew, was through dependence on God.  Praying for them was not so much about fulfilling a ritual as a way of living.   

Too many times we pray without their desperate spirits. We pray and hold tightly to our backup plans just in case God is not able, or willing to do what we want Him to do.  Too many times we ask with doubts about His ability to overcome the obstacles we face in the hard circumstances of our life.  Surely, the better praying comes when we pray with a faith that is expectant and confident that in all things the will of God is going to be done in our lives and in the lives of those for whom we pray.  The better times with friends comes from sitting and sharing the things of our hearts because we love them and it is no different as we enter into our times of prayer with God.  Sometimes it is best to just sit a spell in His presence and listen as one who truly has ears to hear.

The Wooden Altar

 Altars come and go,

     one made to take life,

       another of stones, 

         twelve to be exact,

          the most holy place

            inside the Temple

once here, but no more.

Earth's meeting places,

     intersecting paths

       of raw human need

         God's gracious grace,

            desperate pleading,

              undeserved healing,

miracles everyone.

 

Worn out wooden rails,

     stained with wet tears,

       bearing heavy sins,

         lifetimes of regret

           and deepest sorrows,

             but nary a one,

like Christ's Calvary.

First Glimpses

It is interesting that the story of Saul of Tarsus, the antagonist of Christ, begins after the stoning of Stephen, the martyr for Christ.  What makes it even more intriguing is the fact that Saul was present holding the coats of those who were throwing deadly stones at Stephen.  As the young martyr was dying this violent and undeserved death, he spoke two final words, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit...Lord, do not hold this sin against them."  (Acts 7:59-60).  What Stephen could not know and what Saul could not realize was that a seed was being planted which would change the face of the Jesus movement.    

The seed planted through Stephen's sacrifice took root in the cold heart of Saul and then like a young shoot breaking the surface of the soil, it broke the hard shell around the persecutor's soul.  The ninth chapter of Acts tells us about the new life that burst forth from Saul of Tarsus.  "Now as he (Saul) was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him."  (Acts 9:3)  It was the Eternal Light that brought forth all creation  (Genesis 1:3) and which prevailed against even the darkness of the soul. (John 1:5)   

When the scales had been removed from the blind eyes of Saul by the healing words of Ananias,  Paul would connect his new life with the death of Stephen.  In Acts 22:20 we hear Paul speaking, "And while the blood of your witness, Stephen, was shed, I myself was standing by and approving and keeping the coats of those who killed him."  Saul saw the stoning of Stephen and he also saw the about to die servant of Christ in a moment when "he gazed up into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 'Look," he said, 'I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!' " (Acts 7:55-56).  Saul saw more than he bargained to see that day.  He saw his first glimpse of who he was becoming through the grace of God.

Wind Tunnels for the Spirit

The spiritual energy for the church comes from two sources.  One springs from the hearts of the people of God and the other springs forth from the Holy Spirit.  The first is mentioned in Acts 1:14 where the Word says, "All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer..." and the second is set forth in words like "a sound of rushing wind" and "tongues of fire."  It is clear from reading the first few verses of the second chapter of Acts that the descriptive language is pointing to the power and presence of the Holy Spirit.  Churches do not flourish without a strong stream of prayer and the intentional work of the Spirit.  

There are several reasons why we know this is true.  The most obvious reason is that the Word of God speaks to this reality in the book of Acts.  Another reason for knowing comes from trying everything else and discovering that everything else is a promising source of spiritual life, but one that dries up very quickly.  Few of us can count the denominational programs and emphases that promised new life for the church and while they may have brightened the flame for a moment, they ended up not as wind and fire, but ashes and smoke.   

One of my favorite verses of Scripture is James 5:16.  While the New Revised Standard Version which is my main Biblical text reads it differently, I have always been partial to the old King James Version which renders that verse, "The prayer of a righteous man availeth much..."  To illustrate his point James goes on to lift up Elijah as one who prayed fervently and whose prayer God used powerfully.  There is no question that the Holy Spirit is ready to act in enabling the contemporary church to become the wind and fire church.  We can only wonder what would happen if the church was committed to praying until the doors and windows of the sanctuaries became like wind tunnels for the Spirit.

A Blessing to Any Church

One of my first remembrances of the prayer ministry of the church comes out of my pastorate to the Zoar Church.  Zoar was one of three churches on the Stapleton Charge, my first appointment.  There were two older women who were such saints that it was often said that they would surely find heaven's gate opened wide for them.  About that I cannot speak, but what I do know is that they were what we back then called "prayer warriors."  I learned early on in my pastorate that they did more than talk about praying.  They prayed and they prayed for their pastor.  They were not the only ones, but they were clearly the spiritual leaders of that church.  

I said often in the years to come that every young preacher should be so blessed!   Zoar was not the last church I served that had people dedicated to prayer.  As I remember the churches served, I remember a few in most every church who believed in prayer and prayed.  At the Vidalia Church there was a widow who kept pictures of the staff of the church taped on a mirror as a way of praying for the church each day.  At my last appointment there was a man who sat on the steps just beyond the door leading from the pulpit to the outside hall while I was preaching and prayed for me.    

Folks who are committed to prayer are worth far more to the Kingdom's work than any organized prayer ministry.  Prayer ministries tend to come and go with the enthusiasm of the moment, but people who are the "prayer warriors" "...do not grow weary in well doing..." (Galatians 6:9) and they can only be characterized as those who "...pray without ceasing..."  (I Thessalonians 5:16)  Any church blessed with a few such folks is blessed indeed!

The Jabez Prayer

When I remember the many prayer ministries of the churches I served, I remember one which just happened without any effort on my part.  It happened when Bruce Wilkinson wrote the little volume entitled, "The Prayer of Jabez."  It was a book which captivated the hearts of so many people.  Without any effort folks read the book, embraced the spirit of what was being said, and it propelled the church forward in its prayer life.  While some of its critics voiced concern that it was a prayer too self centered, it struck a positive chord with a great number of people.   

The prayer of Jabez is recorded in I Chronicles 4:10 and reads, "And Jabez called on the God of Israel saying, 'Oh, that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain!'  So God granted him what he requested."  The book Wilkinson wrote was a very small volume that lifted up the four major concerns of the prayer, but overall it was a prayer that God would grant a larger sphere of influence for work of God's Kingdom.

The point of the prayer never seemed to be personal gain so much as a prayer that sought gain for the Kingdom of God.   I remember those days when the book was much talked about within most church circles.  It was a time when small groups were reading it, discussing it, and committing themselves to praying the Jabez prayer daily.  Praying the Jabez prayer, or any prayer for that matter that seeks growth for the Kingdom, can only help and strengthen the church. 

Prayer Rooms

After serving Methodist Churches for twenty eight years, Terry Teykl heard a call from God to involve himself in equipping churches to pray.  He wrote several prayer manuals and traveled all over the country.  As I have been thinking about various prayer ministries of churches I served, he came to the forefront of my memory.  He led prayer workshops in some of the churches I served and always left with my folks inspired and motivated to pray.  One of his emphasis was to establish Prayer Rooms in local churches.   

As he noted back then, a lot of churches have space dedicated for worship, fellowship meals, Bible teaching, youth and children's activities, but not many have space that is set aside for prayer.  Not only do most churches not have Prayer Rooms, but very little money is spent on prayer ministries.  When we look at the energy and resources committed to this particular ministry, it causes one to believe that church leadership talks a lot about prayer, but talk does not translate into an intentional ministry.  

When Terry Teykl left the Perry Church a small group of people created a Prayer Room and designed it so that it could be used safely twenty four hours a day.  Volunteers even signed up to be in the Prayer Room on a schedule to answer the phone which was a tool for the ministry.  I do not know if the ministry is still serving the church and community, but it is an example of what can happen when a few folks heed God's call to make prayer important in the life of the church.  We could use more Prayer Rooms in our churches and certainly we could use more people who do not just talk and read about prayer, but pray.

Written Prayers

Most of us pray.  Even the people who make a claim to not praying are often heard in a moment of impending disaster crying out in a spontaneous manner, "Lord, help me!"  Prayers come in all sizes and shapes, but the One who upon whom we call is the same.  Those of who are intentional about our faith journey understand the life enriching and life giving power of that ongoing relationship with our Creator through the discipline of prayer.  As one who has prayed all my life, I have no doubt about its value in my spiritual life, but it has not always been something that I have done with the discipline it requires.   

When we get in a rut, or run into a dry season, it might be a good time to look at some ways of expanding our prayer life.  One way of expanding our prayer life is to reach back into the past and pull up some of the prayers that have sustained the saints and been offered to God by them or the church in centuries past.  Some turn away from such prayers because they are "written" and, therefore, less effective than some prayer which breathes the air of spontaneity.  It is an unfortunate conclusion because some of these ancient prayers open our spirits in ways that we might not experience otherwise.  Of course, even the diehards who refuse to pray a written prayer still pray the one we know as "The Lord's Prayer!"  

There are many resources available which can open the door to us to the rich prayers that have passed through the centuries.  There are prayers in the Bible, many of our hymns can be prayed, and worship resources provided by different denominations can be an invaluable tool as we avail ourselves of them.  Prayers come from the heart.  A prayer from the past can infuse our heart with new power and life.  The important thing is not to read the written prayers, but to allow ourselves to slowly pray them.

Extending our Prayer Time

Back in the days when I served the Perry Church, we had a prayer ministry program which invited people to get up at five o'clock every Sunday morning and spend the hour in prayer.  Over a several year period there were always around twenty folks who rose early at their home knowing that partners in prayer were doing the same in the parish area.  One of the things learned was that it was not a prayer experiment for the faint hearted!   

At first it was a daunting task for all of us.  We were not accustomed to having a devotional time that lasted that long.  Fifteen or twenty minutes a day would have earned folks a certificate of sainthood had there been such a thing.  The point is that most of us were not spending a lot of time in our quiet time with the Lord.  One of the things we learned about extending  our quiet time in the morning was to divide the hour up into fifteen minute segments.  One segment might be filled with a couple of devotional readings and prayer for those on a prayer list.  A second segment might be devoted to reading some Psalms and praying for the leadership in the church.  Using the smaller increments of time approach enabled us to cast a larger net in our praying as well as growing in our own spiritual lives.    

One thing is certain.  We are not going to get from where we are to where we feel God is calling us to be by a commitment to what has gotten us where we are.  In other words, if we continue to practice our disciplined life in exactly the same way over and over, the results are likely to stay the same.  Attaining higher ground often requires being willing to risk doing things differently.  Of course, a good way to move forward in our devotional life is to ask God what He would have us do.  His design for our quiet time might be quite different than what we might plan so it is always a good thing to ask.

Praying Scripture

When we look at how we are spending our devotional time, there is often a real disparity between the amount of time we spend reading the Scripture and praying.  It is easier to read about spending time with God than it is to spend time with God.  We read about some of the spiritual giants of the faith who not only rise early to pray, but spend big chunks of time actually praying and we wonder how they do it.  We pray and pray and pray, cover the entire waterfront of intercession, and are amazed that we have spent only ten minutes actually praying.   From the looks of the time we spend in prayer, God might come to the conclusion that we love Him a lot, but only want to spend a little time with Him.  Part of our problem with spending so little time in praying is that we live with a narrow definition of prayer.  

Learning to pray the Scriptures is one way of enlarging the scope of our praying.  For those unacquainted with such praying, praying the 23rd Psalm might sound something like, "Lord, You are indeed my Shepherd.  I thank You for constantly providing care and protection for me.  Help me, Lord, to know the difference between what I want and what I need and then help me to be content with what You provide.  Give me a heart to heed Your leading so that I might live a balanced life, a life of trusting in You for what I really need, and a life where the needs of my inner being are clear to me so that I might go after them instead of some lesser things.  Lead me in the right way, Lord, keep me from wandering and help me to live so that others see Your hand on my life."  (Psalm 23:1-3)    

By a thing as simple as changing the pronouns, this prayer can become a prayer not for ourselves, but for someone we love, or someone who has asked that we remember them in our prayers.  The one certain thing is that when we pray the Scriptures, we are praying inside the heart and will of God for these are the words and thoughts He has placed on the inspired page we hold in our hands.  

The Fallen Sparrow

Life has its tragic moments.  There are those events which may either take a life, or send a life on a trajectory far different than the one logically anticipated.  Tragic events also have a rippling effect sending bitter barbs into the hearts of those who stand aside from the tragedy; yet, who are inevitably caught inside its widening web.  Most of us know of some life changing tragedy either through the stories of friends, or through personal experience.    

In the throes of those moments which take lives away, or reshape them forever, we have our questions for God.  It is not an uncommon thing to wonder what He was doing, or if He was paying attention.  A north Georgia poet, Byron Herbert Reece, raises the question is his poem, "Whose Eye is on the Sparrow."  The poem rises from the poet seeing a fallen sparrow "dead upon the grass."  In the last stanza we hear the haunting words,  "I had no means to know;  But this I minded well:  Whose eye is on the sparrow   Shifted--and it fell."

Are there those moments which fall beyond the reach of God?  It is the question the poet dares to ask and it is the question the suffering soul must ask.  While asking such questions may seem sacrilegious to the righteous whose world is all nailed down, it is the question which the suffering heart must ask on the road toward healing.  The one thing we must never do as we try to make sense of the unsensible tragedies  of life is to think that God cannot handle the questions of the heart, or even worst, that He will turn aside from those who must ask them.  He will not turn aside.  It is against His nature.  Instead, He will take the tragedy in His hand and bring something good and redemptive out of it.        

Learning Gratitude

I have always heard you cannot learn to swim on the coffee table.  It must be true.  I know I am having trouble learning how to play my mandolin while it stays in its case in the corner.  I watch musicians make music and I marvel at their fingers moving on the fret board, but watching is not moving me any closer to playing it.  I have a book about writing which tells me that a writer writes at least six hundred words a day even if they end up in the throwaway pile.  Wanting to do something never takes the place of doing it.   

One of things we would all choose to do is to live with a spirit of gratitude.  The preacher's sermon this past week was in some ways like the prelude to singing the songs of Thanksgiving in a few days.  There is no need to wait for a particular day to be thankful.  The Word of God calls us to live, "giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."  (Ephesians 5:20). The words, "at all time and for everything," makes it a very big order.  It is almost as big and impossible a thing as Jesus telling us to "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."  (Matthew 5:48). When we read such passages and grab hold of such thoughts, it is not unlikely for us to wonder how such a life can  be lived.   

Whenever I find myself before this word about being grateful at all times and in every situation, I reach for the book entitled, "1000 Gifts," by Ann Voskamp.  For those who want to live with gratitude, she points to a very simple enabling discipline which she calls practice.  We learn to be content in all things, we learn to be grateful in all things by practicing.  Her words and the way she modeled her own practicing enabled me to start writing what I have come to know as a "Gratitude Journal."  The goal is to write down the gifts of each day.  One of those gifts might be listening to the music of a songbird, or talking on the phone with a friend, or being able get out of bed.  She has taught me to write down daily gifts as a way of learning how to be grateful and I have found that it works.          

The Matter of Clothes

One thing I have noticed about myself in these recent days is that I dress more casually for Sunday worship.  I am not sure how my mother would feel about the change.  Actually, I think I know exactly what she would say were she still here.  Growing up we did not have much.  Poor is what we were.  But, every Easter my sister and I got new Sunday clothes which we only wore for Sunday morning.  We were always told you wear your best when you go to the Lord's House.  No matter how hard I talked to myself yesterday when I prepared to go to a preaching appointment, I could do nothing other than getting the white shirt, tie, and suit out of the closet.  Maybe I feared my mother might be watching and would show her disapproval by making me stumble on the way to the pulpit!  

I know my choice of pulpit attire puts me out of step with most who preach today, but I just do not feel dressed for preaching without either a clergy robe, or more formal dress than blue jeans and a t-shirt with a Jesus logo on it.   My mother would agree with all of us that what we wear to worship is not more important than being in worship.  I agree.   

What we wear in the pulpit is no issue unless it is a reflection of a desire to be like everyone else.  As one who wears the mantle of leadership in the church, being like everyone else can never be.  As one called to serve the Christ within the church we cannot deny the call to live as one set apart and neither can we downplay our call to stand as one with authority to preach the Word.  Jeremiah struggled with this issue in his day (Jeremiah 20:9) and it continues to be the same for many of us who want to be liked and one just like everyone else. 

Testimony Time

Back in the days of growing up, it was common to have testimonies given during Sunday night worship.  At times the sermon time might be given to such moments, or as was more commonly the case, a few people would voluntarily stand and share about the beginning of their walk with Jesus.  Some might have some dramatic story to tell while others would speak of a moment of quietly turning away from one way of life to the life now embraced with Christ.  There is not so much of this kind of sharing taking place in our churches today and it is unfortunate because there is power in the story that each one of us has with Christ.  

There is something about a story that grabs our attention in a way that is different from a sermon or a Biblical teaching.  No matter the language we might use, our story is our story.  It is the one given to us by the Christ and it needs no defending or explaining.  It is ours and ours alone.  I remember a time when a college witness team took a small group of us into a seminary classroom.  We were somewhat intimidated by being in a place of theological studies.  The professor who invited us said, "Just tell your story.  No one can question it.  It is the story of you and your encounter with Christ.  It is not something up for debate."  

It is that way for us.  We are often shy about sharing something as personal as our beginning moments with Christ, or even the moments which have become a part of our present, but there is really nothing to fear.  Whatever we offer in His name, He blesses.  What we must not fear to do is to speak of Him, about Him, and for Him as the occasion for such comes to us.  As we stand before an opportunity to share something of our testimony about our life with Jesus, we may sense some inner anxiety and fear, but let us also remember a word of Jesus from Luke's gospel.  "...the Holy Spirit will teach you at that very hour what you ought to say."  (Luke 12:12)

The Falling Leaf

It is the seasons for leaves to fall.  All around us they are turning loose of where they have been for a place never before known.  Since early Spring these falling leaves have been at home high above.  They have adorned the high landscape with lush green and provided shade on hot summer days.  They have pulled life giving energy from the dirt beneath them, the rain that has washed over them, and the sun which has always been present above them.  Would that they could choose, it would be a forever season for them.  However, in the creation there are no forever seasons except for the season of change.    

Midst the falling leaves, we mortals live out our seasons.  We, too, might look back over the span of our years, or perhaps, the one in which we live and wish for a forever season.  There have been days for all of us when we have thought that life would be a wonderful thing indeed if every day could be like today. Long ago we learned that there are more than the four seasons which turn the pages of our printed calendars.  There are, instead, the seasons which provide for us a panoramic journey through life.  We live midst the seasons of love and loss, the seasons of poverty and abundance, the seasons of crowded community and simple solitude, the seasons of hanging on and turning loose.  

Life is filled with more seasons than the list can handle and each one enriches us and prepares us for the most perfect day which is today.  Even as there is reason for the falling leaves, so is there reason behind each moment we live.  As we live them each to the fullest, we fulfill the plan of the one whose Word brought us into being.  No season is a waste and no soul is expendable within the divine plan which is filled with a creative light that always prevails and issues into life.

The Ever Changing Call

A month ago a church up the road dared to ask me to preach.  Preaching invites do not come too often so I dusted off the brain and had another go at sermon writing.  I am going to have an opportunity this upcoming Sunday to have another go at preaching.  A few weeks ago a District Superintendent hinted at an interim preaching assignment, but I discouraged any further thinking in that direction as writing this blog is where my continued awareness of calling has taken me.  Before retiring I wondered how people who were called to preach could ever retire and justify not preaching, but then I realized that God sometimes lifts the urgency of one calling for another.   

There is some Biblical basis for such.  For example, Ezekiel trained and prepared to be a priest in the Temple only to be called to become a prophet in exile.  The gospel writer, Luke, was a doctor who wrote a gospel noted for its evangelistic thrust.  I remember, too, the many ways Bruce Wilkinson, the author of "The Prayer of Jabez" has responded to the ever changing call of God on his life.  He started as a college professor, created a much used Bible Study, authored scores of books, and started mission initiatives in South Africa.   

A popular saying which has a way of resurfacing ever so often is the one which reads, "God is not through with me yet."  God's call on our lives to be faithful servants never changes.  What may change is the means through which we flesh out that call to serve Him.  None of us are today as we were yesterday and the person we have become may be more suited for the unfolding plan of God than the person we were when the journey of faith began.  We should never be afraid of change for it is the way God is working to make His Kingdom more apparent among us.

The Unchangeable Tool

A few Sundays ago I watched a preacher read the sermon from an Ipad.  It was not something noticeable from the pew, but seeing the service live stream opened a whole new vista.  At other moments I had noticed scripture lessons being read from a handheld device instead of a Bible with pages.  Imagine Billy Graham at one of his crusades waving an Ipad in the air instead of the old bound version of the Scripture which he held constantly in his hand.  What a different image it would have created!  

I have often said I retired at the right time because the technology was on the edge of changing the old world in which I had worked so long.  In my first office was a mimeograph machine and manual typewriter.  It was some years before I graduated to a word processor and a copy machine.  Before I reached the finish line of my ministry, a computer and printer provided not a printed rendering of my sermon, but a hard copy.  By the time I made it to the farm, both the equipment of ministry and the language had changed so much I was not just a worn out preacher, but an obsolete one as well.   

There is; however, one thing which has remained constant over those forty years of preaching.  The unchangeable tool of preaching is the Bible.  Without it there can be no sermon.  A sermon is not an entertaining talk which tickles ears, but a message which rekindles the vision of the Old Testament prophets who spoke saying, "Thus says the Lord..."  To speak of preaching in such a manner may make some preachers squirm, but to forget this core definition of what is to be done on Sunday morning is to relegate preaching to something less than what it is meant to be.  Good preaching is not about what the preacher thinks, but about what God is saying through the written Word.  There is a difference. 

The Ones Not Remembered

I grew up in the church.  Attending church was never an option.  It was simply what we did every Sunday.  Much to my dismay as a teenager, not even a vacation provided an exemption from attending worship in some church we saw along the road at 11:00 am on Sunday morning.  Shortly after I got out from under the thumb of my parents, I signed up to attend worship every Sunday for the rest of my life.  I do not know how many sermons I have either heard, or preached, but I am sure it would total up to be more than just a few.   

Despite the huge number of sermons I have either heard or preached, I remember only a few.  If the ones I heard and remembered were printed in a book, it would be a thin book and if I did the same with the sermons I remember preaching, there would not be enough for even a thin book.  Yet, what I know is that I am a product of all those sermons, hours of worship, Sunday School lessons, and youth moments.  I can remember some moments when the light bulb seem to come on showing me the way forward, but I think most of what influenced me came through a process of spiritual osmosis.  In other words, some of what I was trying not to hear soaked in anyway and worked to lead me toward Jesus and the road of discipleship.  

Perhaps, that is all we preachers can hope will happen with our many sermons.  While there are always a few exceptional sermons that are keepers, so many of what we preach are more of the soaker variety.  A Biblical way of speaking about it would cause us to raise the image of someone sowing seed.  Preachers sow seed and most of the time never see what happens with the seed that is planted.  Occasionally, we are present for the moment when someone sees the light of God's love and responds to it, but even then it is likely to be the result of a seed planted by some preacher who labored faithfully long years ago.  The good thing to think about as a retired preacher is that some of those sermons which are forgotten and remembered by no one still may be producing some fruit in a seeking heart.

Flawed and Inspired

The Psalms have a way of settling into our souls.  It is no wonder it has been a hallmark reading for the saints through the centuries.  Reading from this section of the Word is a constant in most daily reading schedules whether we are talking about personal devotional times, or something as structured as monastic life.  Many of us remember the 23rd Psalm as the first Scripture memorized and, perhaps, the most widely read passage at funerals and memorial services.  As we go deeper into our own personal journeys, others Psalms have gotten planted in our spirit and remembered at significant moments.   

The Psalms have a comforting component.  They enable us to grow into an awareness of the way we are inside the providential care of the Creator.  Some send us to our knees in confession and some send us up spiritual mountains with our hands raised in praise.  It often seems that when we are troubled, some Psalm will come in an unexpected way to rescue us and point us to the ongoing love and care of the Father God. To say that the Psalms are divinely inspired is truly an understatement when we consider their encompassing power.  

Yet, even as we affirm that they are divinely inspired, we also affirm that God used a flawed and imperfect man as His partner in bringing these thoughts into visible form.  David was a shepherd boy and a warrior.  He was a fugitive and a King.  He was a Israel's most powerful man and a man who flagrantly abused his power.  Through the ups and downs of his life, he kept reaching upward toward God.  It is always amazing the way God uses flawed folks like David and each one of us to do His Kingdom's work.

One Person at a Time

After my oldest daughter adopted the first of four children, she said about the boy who was to be my first grandson,  "I can't save all the children of the world, but I saved this one."  Her words have been remembered many times when what seemed to be an impossible need stood before me.  Jesus did not feed all the hungry people of His world and neither can we in our world.  What we can do is make a difference.  Surely, this is why many volunteer and serve non profit groups in our communities.  Some are focused on the needs of abused women, or people struggling with addiction, or something as basic as giving hungry people food.    

There are people all around us who are seeking to make a difference one person at a time.  This is the goal of most non profits groups that have service as the reason for their existence and certainly it is the goal of so many churches who provide niche ministries such as an after school feeding ministry, or providing quilts for cancer patients, or building handicap ramps for wheel chair patients.  It is a good thing that there are many servants who refuse to become overwhelmed by the magnitude of some need and instead make a decision to make a difference one person at a time.   

It is also true that taking care of the needs of those around is not just the task of a few, or the non-profit groups, or the churches, but each one of us.  Most of us need look no further than our own streets to find people who fall through the cracks of groups and agencies organized to help.  If we know someone who is struggling to make ends meet, or who is living with the pressure of being a 24/7 caregiver, or who lives alone and is in need of a listening ear, then we know where to go to serve.  Jesus used the model of washing feet to speak to us our own calling to serve others.  "...you also should so as I have done to you."  (John 13:15).  None of us are exempt from this call to wash feet, or to make a difference one person at a time.

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."

Blessings Along the Way

One of the real joys of living long enough to be considered as old is the way it has ushered in a season of reconnecting to people from my past.  Today I stood beside a country crossroad and visited for a spell with some friends from a church I served some years ago.  A few hours earlier a college friend whom I have not seen in over fifty years called and we talked as if those college days were yesterday.  Hardly had I hung up the phone when I heard a horn blowing in front of the house, which is the equivalent of a doorbell in the country, as a friend from a nearby former church stopped by for a few minutes.    

Every day is certainly not like today, but it has been a day which has been such a blessing in so many ways.  There was a time when I thought I could live in contentment here on the farm and not speak to anyone for weeks at a time, but when that possibility became possible, I quickly realized the need for connection with others.  To some degree we all need others in our lives.  When someone expends the effort to reach out to us, it is always a blessing which is a reminder to us that our own efforts in reaching out to others can be a moment of unexpected blessing for someone else.    

We often say to one another, "Have a blessed day" and the truth is we can take blessings to others with our efforts at reaching out.  When Jesus walked those roads of Galilee, He was never so agenda or destination driven that He could not pause and reach out to some soul to bring a blessing.  People like Zacchaeus, some lepers, a blind beggar, the mother-in-law of Peter, and the widow of Nain were just few of those who were blessed by the Christ as He journeyed on His way.  It is a wonderful thing to be blessed by the giving of others, but it is an even greater blessing to know that others might receive blessings from us.

The Virtual Community

I did something this morning I had never done.  For a couple of different reasons, it was not practical to attend worship this morning so I turned on the computer to make sure they were having worship at the church normally attended even though I was absent.  And, they were.  Without me.  So, I had a brief word with my ego and settled down on the sofa to worship via live streaming.  It was a first.  Worship is not meant to be a spectator sport and it always seemed that worship on line was more about watching than worshiping.    

One of the obvious takeaways is that live streaming worship is a good alternative for those unable to make it to the sanctuary,  It is much more professional than the cable television programming we provided back at the Vidalia Church in the dark ages.  It really does provide a visible connection to a church and a community which would be very important to someone who had attended for a long period of years to suddenly be unable to do so.  It also was nice for the worship leaders to acknowledge the online community from time to time during the service.   

Of course, it might be regarded as a convenience by some, but I would always choose a pew instead of the sofa.  I immediately noticed the distractions in the room.  There was the temptation to talk about what was happening instead of quietly experiencing it.  There was the empty coffee cup which called for a re-fill and the still to be eaten breakfast food.  I guess I am just a bit too old fashioned.  As long as I can walk in the doors to the sanctuary, I will be going so that I can be immersed in the worship happening all around me instead of seeing it happen before me.  But, make no mistake.  It is a good thing particularly if the church will take seriously the pastoral needs of the people out there in the virtual community.

The West Window View

The view out the west windows of the house captures the line of trees along the runoff branch.  A runoff branch is the rural equivalent of an urban retention pond.  Normally, it is like a dry stream bed, but after a good rain, it becomes a rushing stream.  The conservation people call the area through which runs the runoff branch wetland.  As wetland it gets special protection from timber cutting and controlled burning.  When I look out those windows facing west, I see the line of tall trees that have taken root and grow in that wet dirt, but I also see a point of connection to the rest of the world.    

When the rain falls in sufficient amounts to nurture the land, the excess rain water runs downhill to turn my dry stream bed into something that sounds and looks like a mountain stream.  The filled stream, or branch as it is called around here, flows into a larger creek, and then into a river which flows steadily south toward the ocean.  At some point the rain which falls on this land becomes part of a great body of water I cannot see.  And finally through a process that enables moisture to rise from the ocean to form weather that creates rain clouds, the water which fell on the ground comes here again to repeat creation's cycle of connectivity.   

It is a constant reminder from the Creator God that everything is connected and dependent on every other part of the created order.  We do not live alone.  It is impossible.  We cannot live in some isolated bubble where we are untouched and unaffected by the Creation around us.  The creation does sustain our life, but its purpose is not found in the way we exploit it through demanding that it serve us, but as it serves the purpose for which it was put in place by its Creator Who is our Creator.  Maybe St. Francis did live closer to divine truth than we realize as he spoke of the creation as brother and sister instead of servant.

This Old Dog

A thing being learned over and over again is something that I have always heard, but seldom realized how much truth there is in this word which tells us there is always something to be learned.  Or, to paraphrase a saying heard since a boy, "An old dog can learn new tricks."  While I have not arrived at graduation yet, I am in this season of my life learning how to write not just prose, but even some poetry and the birthday gift of a mandolin has put me in that classroom as well.  

However, the biggest lessons I have learned since walking away from the pulpit in retirement are new ways of understanding and knowing God in my life.   It is surely a strange think to admit.  After all, I was early on in my faith journey blessed with a theological education that resulted in a Master of Divinity degree.  Over the years I have accumulated four sets of Biblical commentaries, a seven volume set of John Wesley's writings, a shelf full of books on prayer, and more books on the spiritual life than I want to count.  I have been a teacher of the Bible and a preacher of over forty years of sermons.  

I reckon if anyone should be near to not having anything new to learn, it would be me.  Yet, the truth with which I am learning to live is that there is more about God that I will never know than I know.  The word which keeps coming back to me again and again as I respond to the spiritual stretching of my heart is the word "Mystery."  It took retirement for me to slow down enough to realize what so many learned so much earlier and that is the truth that to walk with God is to walk in mystery.  To seek Him is to embrace the reality that there is always something new ahead of us and with this in mind, I am grateful that God is still willing to teach this old dog some new things. 

Unchangeable Truths

On a beautiful autumn afternoon when every leaf is trying to be more colorful than the leaf hanging on beside it, on a day when the sky's blue is so blue that even the blue eyes of a young man's lover pales in comparison, and on a day when there is no end to the bright warmth of the sunshine to warm the skin against fall's first chill, it is an easy thing to praise the Lord for His blessings and to exclaim with the multitudes, "God is good...God is good all the time!"   Indeed, it is true.  God is good all the time!  One of  the unchangeable truths of the universe is the goodness of God.  

However, it if is true that God is good all the time, and it is, then it is also true that God is good in those moments when the darkness is so great we cannot see our way forward and the pain is so penetrating we are unable to move.  Our circumstances are not only prone to change, but they will change.  This, too, is a constant of the universe.  We may wish for every day to be filled with sunshine and cool breezes, but life never really unfolds in such a way for anyone.  God knew about this when He puts His imprint on our soul and turned us loose to walk the journey from conception to our eternal home.    

As one who has walked more than a mile or two and who has trudged the rocky uphill terrain through the darkness of black storms, I know what I have learned which is that even in those terrible places none of us would choose to walk, God is still good.  There may be places along the journey in which we are tempted to doubt His presence and wonder about His goodness, but to look even into the deepest darkness is to see signs of His goodness.  If we see those small signs which are glimpses of a goodness that cannot be overcome and which will have prevailing power, we will finally come to that moment when the glory and goodness of God will surely overwhelm, not just for a moment, but for an eternity.

Eagles or Hens

When we think we ready to mount up with wings like eagles and end up waddling on the ground like an overweight hen, it might be a good time to get on the roost for a spell and figure things out.  Many have been the times when we see something that needs doing for the Lord, find ourselves filled with a desire to get at it, and do for awhile only to just run out of steam way before the work is done.  In those moments it appears to us that we are not nearly as faithful to God as we thought in the beginning.    

It is likely in such moments that we have forgotten some of the basic things about Christian ministry or service.  If our service is driven by human need, we are candidates for exhaustion.  There is always going to be one more mouth to feed, one more thirsty soul in need of a drink, and one more caught up in some catastrophic moment of life.  No matter how many it is that we offer care and compassion, there will be another.  If our service or ministry is need based, we are not going to make it.    

The measure of our faithfulness to God is not found in what we do, but why we do it.  I Corinthians 13 is a wonderful chapter of Scripture, but one often forgotten by those of as we get caught up in acts of service.  "If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong...If I give away all my possessions....but do not have love, I gain nothing."  (Corinthians 13:1-3).  The real measure of our faithfulness is not what we do, but our love for God.  If we do what we do because of God's love, then we "shall mount up with wings like eagles,...run and not be weary."  (Isaiah 40:31).  The inexhaustible need will finally wear us out, but the inexhaustible love of God will always strengthen us.

The Journey

To walk the spiritual journey is to walk into Mystery.  It is to walk within Mystery.  It not only takes us to the "know not where " places of life, but it also takes us to the moments of standing midst something greater than our ability to understand.  The spiritual journey we are called to walk by the Christ who said, "Come and see" (John 1:39) is one without destination or reason.  How confusing it must have been for those early disciples who left nets and livelihood to go after One who never defined where except to speak of dying and who preached a way that was so counter culture it turned upside down the status quo in which they had lived so comfortably.  

Our spiritual journey is more than just adherence to some spiritual plan which promises certain results, or a daily pattern or ritual, or prescribed prayers and Scripture lessons.  It is not a journey of the outward visible things.  It is one in which the soul leads the way pointing out to us the invisible presence of the Creator God in all things around us and causing us to be drawn toward walking, not in what we know, but into what we do not know, cannot know, and never will know on this side of eternity.  It is a strange journey to which we are called.  It is not one guided by common sense, logic, and the possible, but one which holds us within the confines of a spiritual world shaped by faith, risk, and the impossible.    

Not everyone wants to walk such a road for there is nothing about it which speaks of the familiar and the comfortable.  It is a journey which defies an awareness of arriving for as soon as a sense of having made it comes, a new vista opens before us.  We are constantly wearing out our shoes on this road filled with impossible to see pit falls and moments so filled with the holy that we know not whether to stand in awe or kneel in wonder.  The call is ever to move onward and so we go not sure of what is before us, but confident that the Holy One is out there ahead leaving footprints in some places and nothing in others. 

Dust and Ashes

Holding on by hanging,

   like a dry yellow leaf 

      waiting for the last breath

        lingering now above,

         even as many dance

to where they are going.

Is it the not knowing,

   not the fear of floating,

     nor the feel of free falling

       that keeps both leaf and limb

         tenaciously joined

as in Spring's first budding?

As the last season blows,

     the last leaf knows its hold

       will soon be turning loose

         to dance and slowly go,

           so death can bring new life,

as do dust and ashes.

A Fragile Life

One of the hard lessons I learned about life took place the day my father went to work and did not come home.  At age seven I was not capable of thinking about the fragile nature of life, but I knew the definition of the word deep in my young soul.  It was a moment that shaped my life.  As I grew older I was always aware the we could not guarantee a moment of coming back after a moment of leaving.  Though there were times of a failure to remember the no guarantee clause in my leaving moments, I never got very far from knowing that my life was fragile.  

At age 76, it is not some morbid thought that has me fearful of every step I am about to take, but certainly I know that my past is longer than my future.  I remember an author of some decades ago who asked the question, "How would you live if you knew you had one more day."  Our initial reaction might send us running to our bucket list, or settling into a final day of spiritual searching, getting our financial affairs in order, or having a final family gathering.  The author's answer to his own question went in a different direction as he said he would continue living as he lived yesterday and was living today.   It was the answer of someone who was living his life well.    

Life is surely fragile and there are those moments which jolt us back into an awareness of that reality.  James the Apostle wrote, "For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."  (James 4:14). We often forget the wisdom of the Word from God.  It is because life is fragile that we should make sure that we pay attention to the present moment and the people who share that moment with us.  To live according to any other option is to run the risk of a wasted trip.

Methodist Conferencing

A few weeks ago the parking lot at church was so full when I pulled in just before 11:00 AM that I wondered what special thing was happening in worship.  As it turned out, it was a Children's Sunday which is always good for attendance.  Today I arrived at the same time and there were so many empty parking spots, I wondered again what was happening.  As it turned out, it was a Charge Conference which is an annual administrative meeting dressed up in missional clothing.  Experience has taught me a lot of people do not share the Bishop's enthusiasm for Charge Conference.    

Back in the day when I was growing into being a Methodist, it was common for the church to have four of those administrative meetings per year instead of one.  It was then called Quarterly Conference.  They were not particularly exciting to a teenage boy, but since I was the preacher's kid, I got a special ticket for attendance from my parents.  I must have attended a hundred, or more, of those things, but there is only one I remember.  It took place at the Alamo Methodist Church in May of 1966.  The District Superintendent who always came and presided over the Quarterly Conference was the Rev. Joe Bridges.  In his meditation he said, "If you see a need around you and realize you can do something about that need and do nothing, you may be neglecting the call of God on your life."   

I carried his word to the parsonage that night, knelt by my bed, and in a moment which has counted for the rest of my life, I gave my life to Jesus and heard His call to preach.  Like Jonah, it took a while before I accepted what I knew God wanted me to do.  The word I carried home that night changed my life.  Who would have thought it could happen at a Quarterly Conference?  The moral to this little story is that God is going to do whatever He wants to do whenever He wants to do it and He wants our story to be a part of the Kingdom story.

Memories

There is no end to the memories we carry with us.  Some lift us up like a burst of fresh wind at our back while others grab hold of us and throw us on the ground.  Memories have a way of taking us into our past in such a way that if often seems we are there once again.  Even things we would say are forgotten can be brought to the surface of our conscious mind by some word or scene which serves as a trigger that opens the door to what is so forgotten we did not even know we still had it with us.  Our memories are powerful gifts.   

To speak of memory as a gift is a stretch for some who live with memories that have left scars that have never seemed to heal.  Survivors of abusive households, veterans of battlefields, and victims of crimes surely struggle with scars that are still frightening and painful to remember.  It is hard for those of us whose scars may not be as deep to understand those who have suffered so greatly and, perhaps, the only way we can is to go into our own storehouse of memories and multiply the power of the scars we ourselves bear.    

The point is that memory is a blessed thing in that it brings to mind the moments of sunshine in our life, but it also has the potential to throw our life into chaos.  The Word tells us that God can use our worst to bring about good.  (Romans 8:28).  It is a process that is not always seen.  When we dare to risk revealing the deep wounds in our life that we remember with such pain, we find that another soul gets a little closer to healing and as a byproduct so do we.  There is something surprisingly redemptive in that kind of personal transparency.  It is always painful to share our own pain with others, but as we do we are likely to discover two things: an unseen purpose in our pain and a balm for healing in the lives of others.

Noon on Sunday

The basic assumption of most worship planners is that an hour of worship on Sunday morning is all anyone wants, or can stand.  It would not miss the mark too much to say that most preachers work within the constraints of this assumption.  Jokes and true stories abound of people making a production out of shaking their watches at the noon hour as if to suggest it must not be working, or maybe as a reminder to the preacher that it is time to say the benediction.  One time conscious preacher I knew had someone in the balcony noting the number of minutes given to each act of worship within the service so a more efficient  and time conscious service could be offered.   

It always seemed to me that worship was over when it was over.  I found ways of stretching the expected hour to give more time for worship.  For example, I would start the service at 10:50 with those ten minutes being devoted to greeting one another and parish announcements.  Of course, sometimes we still would break that noon barrier with some of the sermon unpreached, but I told my crowd when I began a sermon late into the hour that any preaching after noon was free so they had no worries.  On a more serious note, worship is one of those things which does not need a stop watch, or an alarm to call it to a conclusion.  This is not to say that some worship services run far too long due to a lack of planning, verbal rambling, and preaching that runs past a multitude of stopping places. 

Without taking advantage of people's time and without ignoring some of our culture's expectations, it is true that worship is about God and what He is doing in our midst.  He may be the author of time, but He is not the holder of the clock on Sunday morning.  Many a movement of the Spirit has been snuffed out because the preacher wrestled control of the service back from the Spirit so the benediction would send happy people out of the sanctuary at noon.  Sometimes worship simply takes longer than an hour.  There is no need to fear it.  Rejoicing that God is at work in our midst is a better response.

A Liturgical Wish

I have been a Methodist since I was baptized at age nine.  My history is connected to this denomination at almost every major moment.  I cannot say that I have ever seriously considered going to another brand of church although there are some things about others that truly resonate with my soul.  At age 76 I am not up to getting on another horse.  I not only am going to stay on the horse I have been riding all my years, but it is something I want to do.  I am a firm believer in the Wesleyan theology of the Methodist Church and would not replace it with any other tradition.   

Having said all this I would add there are some things I wish were different.  If I were at the beginning of my ministry instead of moving toward the end, I would make sure the churches I served had more Table gathering.  I am not talking about the Wednesday night fellowship variety of table gatherings, but the ones in which we gather to share in the meal of the bread and cup.  It has always seemed to me that the church as I have experienced it over the years has suffered a kind of spiritual impoverishment because of its hesitation to offer the Sacrament on a weekly basis instead of a monthly one, or as is the case in some places, quarterly.  

Perhaps, it would be true that it would not attract a large crowd, but as a clergy friend once told me about doing a Good Friday service even if no one shows up, "It is just important to do."  He was right.  We tend to measure a worship service's value according to the number who attend, but there are times for affirming that some acts of worship are important enough to offer whether or not the masses participate or not.  A few souls can be blessed as surely as a crowd of them.  Maybe we simply need to remember what Jesus said about two or three gathering in His name. 

Destined for Home

When I first started my faith journey with Jesus, I did not think much, if any, about the destination.  Of course, as we have heard and said many times, it is not the destination, but the journey that is important. As we say this, we are attempting to slow down our hurried pace so we can pay attention to where we are in the moment.  It is true.  We do live in such a hurry and we do need to slow ourselves down on our way to the grave.  But, in the context of our spiritual journey with Christ, there is a bit more to be considered.  We do need to pay attention to the present, but we also need to know we are destined for our heavenly Home.    

When we read deep into the book of Hebrews, we find in the 11th chapter verses which speak of the journey of the saints by saying, "They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth...they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one."  (Hebrews 11:13-16).  Though we may not think much about the destination of our faith journey as it gets started, it is still out there for us and as we find ourselves living closer to the western sky than the eastern one, heaven starts coming into view in a way it was not in the beginning.  It is not that we become heaven obsessed people, but that we start seeing the whole of the journey more completely.  

The truth is we are destined for this Home.  We are conceived in the womb with this longing in our soul.  Life is a wonderful gift from God, but as the Spirit's influence grows greater and greater in us, we begin to know a hope of a greater joy than we have ever experienced or imagined.  It is a natural thing as signs of the journey's end start appearing more clearly to grasp even tighter the eternal Hand that has always been reaching out toward us and with the deepest gratitude prepare to receive the final gift of grace which is our eternal Home.

Created for Love

Our society is so full of animosity and division.  More and more it seems that we live in an "us and them" world.  We pay too much attention to the things that make us different at the expense of noting those thing which make us brothers and sisters.  What we find easy to forget is that we were not created for animosity, hatred, resentments, and unforgiving spirits, but for love.  We were created out of love and we find our purpose most completely when we affirm that we are also created for loving.  Loving is the most important thing we are called to do in life as a believer in Jesus Christ.    

Jesus made it clear as He said to a questioning Pharisee, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.  This is the greatest and first commandment."  (Matthew 22:38). No act of service to someone around us is more important than our loving God.  After speaking this Word, He went on to add another Word to what He was saying, "And a second is like it.  You shall love your neighbor as yourself."  (Matthew 22:39). One other Word which underscores this teaching is found in I John 4:7, "Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God."     

We live best when we affirm that love is woven into the fabric of our soul when we are inside our mother's womb and then accept the calling to love as one who gives loves to whoever it is that God puts on the path to share the journey with us. If we wonder who we are, it only needs to be said that we were created out of divine love and from that divine love, we are to love one another.  For those who are serious about following Christ, there is no place for any spirit except the spirit of love.  We are to love those who love us and those who show no signs of loving us.  What someone else decides to do is unimportant.  As those created with the love of God, we have no option but to love.

Dependent on Grace

One of the things which has been pounded into my head and heart in these years of following Christ is that we are truly a grace dependent people.  In the beginning it is easy to make the mistake of many others who have gone before us and give what we do a place of prominence that it does not deserve.  Certainly, this is not to say that our acts of service, our acts of kindness, or our acts of worship are unimportant.  Instead, it is to declare that our life with God does not begin, nor is it sustained by what we do.  The beginning point of the whole God-human relationship is God' grace.   

The Apostle Paul points us to this in that oft quoted verse from Ephesians:  "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God..." (Ephesians 2:8).  We had nothing to do with being given life in our mother's womb.  Neither can we guarantee that our life will extend beyond the next breath.  Being given life and being given breath is a gift as is our salvation.  We do nothing to earn it.  It is a gift from our creator which as we know is a definition of grace.   

As the years have added up to a greater number than so many of my friends, I know that I am not here because of a better diet, or taking better care of myself, but simply because for some unknown reason God has chosen to give me the gift of these years.  Putting my feet on the floor each morning is a gift and breathing the air I am about to breathe is a gift.  Knowing Him in my life each day is a gift.  Life is all about God and all about God's grace.  It is hard to imagine anyone living and coming to a different conclusion.

Frogs in Church

It happened in the children's sermon this morning.  Those things can be the ruin of many a well prepared adult.  On any given Sunday the whole group can conspire against the leader and take control.  Actually, it only takes one child to accomplish the takeover.  I know.  I have had it happen too many times to count.  This morning's group of children had more energy than could be contained on the front pew on which they sat.  No one was shy.  Everyone was eager to talk.  The leader said something about God being present and one of the kids pointed toward the window and said what I thought was "There is God."  He grabbed my attention and then when he spoke again I realized he really said, "There is a frog!"   

He was right.  There was a little green frog in the window.  Actually, there was another one on the piano beside the window so we had about 50 people present and two frogs.  I was reminded immediately of my pastorate in Talbotton.  Between the ceiling of the sanctuary and the roof of the church were bats.  Every evening a watcher could count a multitude leaving and on most Sunday mornings, there were at least two or three hanging upside down from the ceiling of the church.  If one of those bats so much as looked like it was going to move, there was an immediate collective loss of attention among the congregation and the preacher.  

I am not sure why the frogs showed up for worship this morning, but I did notice someone collected them and took them outdoors.  I was glad they got back outside where they belonged.  They, too, bore the imprint of the Creator in a way different than those of who came to sit in pews and stand in the pulpit.  I am grateful the frogs were put back on the road home which is what I was preaching about this morning as I lifted up the Scripture which says, "...they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one..." (Hebrews 11:16) and our  faith journey which leads us Home.

Always Be Ready

In his first letter, Peter wrote to those of faith in the church, "Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting of the hope that is in you..."  (I Peter 3:15).  The difficult word in this passage is not the word about speaking a word concerning the hope we have in Christ, but the word, "Always."  God is constantly dropping us into situations where an opportunity to speak of our hope is given to us.  There may be times when we are living with such an expectation, but for many of us, the awareness comes to us not as something about to happen, but as something which has happened.    

This afternoon in one of those waiting rooms in which we all find ourselves from time to time, I sat down nursing my impatience about being in such a place when a man of Asian descent sat down across from me.  Before I could really be comfortable in my chair, he was telling me about his wife of 38 years who was seriously ill.  As we talked I asked if he was of the Christian faith to which he replied that he was Buddhist and then he said, "There is one God.  We all pray to one God."  I thought of a friend who lives out in Lubbock, Texas who speaks of God as "the God of the universe."  The way my Texas friend speaks of God caused me to see this distressed man across from me as my brother and for whom I offered to pray.     

If we continue reading what Peter wrote we find him saying, "...Yet do it with gentleness and reverence."  (I Peter 3:16)  In that moment I saw this man whom God put in my path as someone who bore within himself the essence of the creating God of the universe.  He was not someone I needed to try to convert.  He was not someone whose faith was amiss.  He was my brother who was suffering with fears of losing his wife and I pray that my conversation was received as hopeful and healing and that my prayers for him have been full of a gentle spirit that regards him with reverence and love.

More About Preaching

To remember those who have greatly influenced my preaching requires remembering Clark Pafford.  Between my freshman and sophomore year of college, I worked as a summer youth worker under the supervision of this pastor.  He knew I aspired to be a preacher so he allowed me to fill his pulpit a few times that summer for some of my earlier preaching experiences.  However, before I preached on Sunday morning, he required me to preach my sermon on Saturday night in the sanctuary to him.  He did it not to berate me with "how to it better," but to encourage me.   

I took something from those few Saturday nights that he might not have anticipated.  Clark Pafford reminded me preaching was oral communication and that the oral part needed work as well as the written part.  For the span of my ministry, few sermons were preached on Sunday morning that had not first been preached on Saturday night to an empty church.  I would take my sermon to the pulpit on those Saturday evenings, preach it two or three times, and then give it back to the Lord who gave it to me asking only that He do with it what He wished on Sunday morning.   

One of the things I noticed in those early days of wanting to preach was that the preachers I regarded as those who did it well were those who preached without manuscript, or notes on Sunday morning.  I may never have achieved the level that my preaching mentors did, but the Saturday night work in the empty sanctuary enabled me to preach unhindered by written words in front of me.  It made the act of preaching more exciting for this preacher and it is always better to preach with excitement about what is being preached than the alternative.