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. 

Good Preaching

I figure that having preached for 43 years entitles me to an opinion, or two about the work that takes place in the pulpit.  Strange as it might seem to some, my preaching has mostly been influenced and shaped by a Lutheran.  My preaching professor at Candler School of Theology was Dr. John Brokhoff who was of the Lutheran tradition. He is remembered for many reasons.  He was one who believed strongly in the primacy of the Scripture in preaching.  He was one of the first to point me toward lectionary preaching.  He told us so many times, "Your people don't come to hear what you think, they come to hear the Word of God."  Obviously, I have never forgotten.   

His most important contribution to my preaching was in helping me understand what makes preaching different from other types of public speaking.  He often reminded us that preaching is not motivational speaking as is offered at a community civic club gathering.  Neither is preaching about teaching though it is going to happen to some degree.  What he told us over and over is that good preaching is persuasive.  He told us our purpose was to preach Christ in such a way that people would be persuaded to follow Him and His teachings.  In some way every sermon needs to invite people to respond to Jesus.  

There may be other threads which ran through the fabric of the preaching I did for those four decades, but these were surely the ones which held it together.  We live in a day when preachers are tempted to entertain, be pulpit counselors, and make those in the pew feel better about themselves.  In the humble opinion of this preacher of 43 years, such is not the purpose of preaching.  Preaching is about pointing people to Jesus and inviting those who hear to walk upstream with Him.

A Reason to Quit

I have heard of a few preachers who show up on Sunday morning at their pulpit, open the Bible,  the Spirit shows them a passage of Scripture, and gives them their sermon on the spot.  I would never say such is not possible since there have been a few times when I have gone to the pulpit with a sermon I knew I could not preach because the Spirit was at the moment of preaching leading me to a different message.  To be honest, it is frightening to lay aside what seems to be a perfectly good sermon that has been worked on all week for whatever it is the Lord wants to do with the sermon.     

It was always a hard thing for me to lay aside my preparation for a "wait and see" moment in the pulpit.  What if I laid it aside and nothing else came?  What if I had a sermon I knew I should not preach, but was not given another one?  What if I got up and had to say, "I got nothing," and announced the closing hymn?  What if it was a moment when the Lord planned for me to fail instead of succeed?  It was a terrifying moment to be so exposed before a congregation, but there were a few times when obedience to what I knew to be the voice of the Spirit made it necessary to take such a risk.  

The one thing every preacher has to learn at some point is that preaching is not just about "me."  It is, instead, about what God wants to say through me, my mind and heart, my experiences, the Scripture, and my relationship with Him.  In other words to preach is to be the person God has created me to be and called me to be while He is at work through the totality of all that I am.  No matter how comfortable a preacher may become in a pulpit given to Him over the span of the years,  to stand as one who seeks to speak the Word of the Lord for the people of God is a frightening thing.  Any preacher who gets so comfortable preaching that there is no sense of being nervous probably should quit preaching.

A Great Joy

I got an invite to preach this upcoming Sunday.  The preacher needed to be somewhere else and someone remembered me.  Invitations are few and far between, but I am always ready to go.  It has been a few months since my last opportunity to preach so the congregation this Sunday may have a preacher who preaches longer than he should since it is not an every Sunday event.  Since getting out of the Sunday to Sunday preaching discipline, I have found writing sermons to be a bit more difficult.  There is something about the discipline of doing it every week which makes it an easier task.  

I suppose it has a lot to do with the way our minds get programmed to do certain things.  Mine is programmed right now to write a three paragraph blog posting, but I hate to preach such a short sermon.  After hearing a little of this preacher finding himself in the pulpit again, my Sunday congregation may decide that a little is better than a lot!  When you are a retired preacher like I am, it is always tempting to go to the barrel where old sermons are stored, close your eyes, and pull one out for warming up.  However, what I remember is that warmed over sermons are never exciting to preach and, most likely, even less exciting to hear, or endure.   

Anyway, I have my text and have started the process of letting it marinate a bit in my mind and heart.  I have been praying for guidance as I get settled into the discipline of writing a sermon once again.  What I have realized so many times over the years is that preachers are truly blessed in that they are called to a work which gives them the opportunity to proclaim the Word of the Lord (or preach the gospel) every week.  There are surely those times in the life of every preacher when it become a chore, but what we know in our heart is that it is one of life's greatest joys.

Holy Water

There are things that I know are there and, yet, sometimes I forget and find myself surprised to find them.  Such a moment came the other afternoon as I entered the local Episcopal Church for a memorial service. Right there just outside the front door of the sanctuary was the baptismal font.  Unlike some I have seen in many churches of my own denomination, it was filled with water.  The baptismal font was not stuck over in some obscure corner where its empty contents could not be seen.  It was a moment I knew what to do.  It was a moment in which I knew what I wanted to do, but I hesitated since no one else was doing what I wanted to do and I was, after all, not an Episcopalian.  

Finally, I put aside any reason for not doing what I wanted to do and did it.  I put my fingers in that holy water and using my wet fingers, I marked my forehead with the sign of the cross.  Even though my wife could have done the same thing, I asked if I could touch the waters and mark her forehead as I had mine.  What a holy moment fell upon us both!  Actually, the font filled with water was placed at the door of the sanctuary for just such a purpose.  Baptism is that ritual of our choosing to be set apart for the work of the Kingdom of God.  It is something good to remember as we come for worship.

The waters which touch us may dry, but I have always allowed myself to believe that once baptized we are spiritually marked in an indelible way as one who belongs to Christ.  Those of us who are afraid of our worship becoming too formal and structured need to let loose of our fears and allow ourselves to experience the hidden mystery in rituals and practices that have blessed so many through the centuries.  A little extra water will never hurt us.   Instead, it may have healing power for the nurturing of our souls.

Grace for All

One of the most popular and oft sung songs of the church is "Amazing Grace."  It was written in 1772 by John Newton.  At the time the song was written, John Newton was an ordained Anglican priest; however, earlier in his life, he was a captain of a ship hauling slaves out of Africa.  It is hard to imagine a man with such a background writing such a hymn, but then as we read the words it is obvious that Newton is writing about a transformation personally experienced.  Even as it is hard to imagine Saul of Tarsus becoming Paul the Apostle, it is hard to imagine a slave trader becoming a preacher of the gospel.   

We have all known stories of personal transformation.  Jesus is not partial to folks who have a good track record of being moral and living decent lives.  When Jesus was dying on the cross, there was a convicted criminal dying beside him who according to his own words was receiving what he deserved.  As the criminal was dying, he said to Jesus, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.  To this thief Jesus said, "Truly, I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."  (Luke 23:42-43).  

We do not know the crime of the thief, but we do not need to know.  Jesus knew and it did not matter.   None of us have lived in such a way as to put us outside of God's mercy and grace.  There is nothing in our past which is beyond the forgiveness of God.  Neither is there anyone of us who becomes unfit for Kingdom work because of the things we have done,   God does not forgive us to put us in a heavenly trophy room, but to put us to work as servants who make a difference in His work on this earth.  This is not just true for some, but all and that includes you and me.

A Moment of Blessing

One of the striking things about the worship I experienced yesterday at a local Episcopal Church was the obvious value placed on the Holy Sacrament.  While I knew this tradition is more Table centered than my own denomination, I was still surprised that the Sacrament was offered during this memorial service on a Thursday afternoon. When I was growing up, Communion was offered quarterly and only during my ministry did that practice change to every first Sunday.  

However, there are many churches within the Protestant community who might offer it quarterly, or on Christmas Eve, or maybe, not at all.  One of the things I remember about the years of ministry was an awareness that some folks intentionally stayed home on designated Communion Sundays because, "it wasn't real church."  Even today when the Sacrament is offered, it is more like an afterthought done as quickly as possible to accommodate the hurried mentality of those who come to worship.  Offering the Sacrament midst a long ritual would be unheard of in many of the churches which adorn the landscape of our lives.  

I wish our tradition was more like what I experienced yesterday. The Table was slowly and reverently prepared as we watched, the liturgy was read without any sense of the hurried, and those present were invited to come and kneel at the altar with hands outstretched.  When I returned to my pew I was aware of the organist playing the hymn, "Just as I am, I come to Thee," and my own heart saying, "Sometimes we forget we are hungry and thirsty."  It was a blessed moment for my soul.

Spiritual Kinsmen

Today I went to a memorial service being held at a local downtown Episcopalian Church. A long ago Episcopal friend and priest often reminded me that this tradition and my United Methodist tradition had common spiritual roots.  The Episcopal Church is the American version of the Anglican Church, or the Church of England.  After the Revolutionary War no one wanted to pledge allegiance to anything English so in that moment of change, the Anglican Church in America ceased to exist and the Episcopal Church came into existence.  Of course, John Wesley, the father of Methodism, was an ordained Anglican priest and was until his death; thus, the connection between the two traditions.  We have roots that make us ecclesiastical brothers and sisters.   

One of the more obvious differences is the use of liturgy.  The Episcopal Church is a church much more immersed in liturgy.  Some of the prayers prayed from "The Book of Common Prayer'" are prayers prayed by people we only know as ancestors.  The ritual brings those who use it into a stream of spirituality that has been practiced by the people of God for generations.  It may lack the spontaneity of some of the more modern and contemporary churches where formal is an ugly word, but it also true that many of today's younger worshipers who are living in a world of constant change are finding a safe and comfortable place midst the traditions and rituals that have stood the test of time.   

The pendulum is always swinging.  In the beginning of my years of ministry, most people who attended church went to what might be characterized as mainline denominations and now many mainline churches hide their denominational branding.  It is also true that yesterday's worship was organ and pulpit centered and now the more modern churches depend upon a band with guitars and drums and pulpits have been put into the historical room.  People change.  Churches change. In this world of change, let us remember,   "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever."  (Hebrews 13:8)

The Peace of Christ

Restlessness is something which settles over us causing us to feel like we are walking on uneven ground.  At first it is unidentifiable.  It is not something which can be explained.  It is as if something is floating over us, or even within us.  It is experienced as if our heart is missing a beat or two.   Restlessness often causes us to sense that something is not right though we may not be able to put our finger on it right away.  Restlessness takes away our peace,  Sometimes it slips upon us so quietly that we are unaware of its presence in the beginning.  It is only as it continues, quietly persistent, that we sense its disconcerting power.   

In days when life is turned upside down and we are seeking to make sense of the new world into which we are being thrust, restlessness is likely to become a companion.  There is an uneasiness about it that shatters our sense of well being.  In such moment I am often reminded of a Word Jesus left with us.  In that wonderful and powerful 14th chapter of John where Jesus speaks of so many things which touch our hearts and souls, we hear Him saying, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid."  (John 14:27)     

Today as I was revisiting in my mind the storm which has caused such widespread suffering, I spoke with a farmer and heard the anguish in his voice as he talked not just about the financial loss ahead, but the way his heart was broken over a crop not to be harvested.  In those moments I thought about the ritual observed Sunday after Sunday as we look at one another, offer our hand or a hug, and say to another, "The peace of Christ be with you."  Instead of mumbling a few words of meaningless gibberish born out of my sense of inadequacy, I wish I had simply ended our phone call by saying, "The peace of Christ be with you," for such is what he needed and I as well.

Everyday Calling

It is easy to fall prey to the false idea that God's call goes out only to the clergy. The truth it there are no spectators in the Kingdom.  Everyone who says "Yes" to Jesus is called to serve.  Baptism is a public announcement to the world that we are ready to do whatever God calls us to do. Not a one of the twelve disciples were seminary graduates and neither did any of them have aspirations to become one.  Many of them were called from fishing nets to serve Christ.  As we look at the Biblical giants, we see that none were born with a wish that would put them in place of confrontation with the political powers of their world. They would have been content to fish, or to tend sheep, or to take care of sycamore trees.   

The church has at times presented the call of God in such a way that those being called to full time ministry might hear it without engaging the energy of those whose hearts were simply bent toward service for the Christ.  There is too much work that needs to be done in the Kingdom for anyone to think that only an elite group are called.  Everyone is called.  We are all called.  The ministry of the church and the Kingdom is too great not to involve the many instead of the few.   

The question we all need to be asking ourselves is the question which asks God what He has for us to do today.  Or, maybe another possibility is that our morning prayer should include some personal word from us that we are available to do whatever He wants us to do.  "Lord, if there is something You want to get done today and I can help, please know that I am available,"  is a good word to begin each day.  But, there is one more thing.  Once we declare ourselves available to whatever He might call us to do today, we should enter the day full of expectancy and with eyes wide open.