The Sweetest Gift

It is such a sweet moment, 

the sweetest of all, some say,

the moment just after here 

slips silently into sleep

where rampant thoughts

disappear and reappear

in a dark field of dreams.

 

Quickly comes the moment,

and no matter how long 

the mind's eye looks to see,

it comes and then is gone,

only knowing it has come

when the Spirit stirs within

making there, here again.

 

'Tis God's gift, this moment

when sleep gives release 

to the weary needing rest,

the troubled needing peace,

and the lost needing the way.

For a season, troubling things

go away into sleep's eternity.

 

But, always comes the moment

when light breaks on the morn,

sometimes here, sometimes there.

What is known as here is there,

what cannot be seen is seen.

The eye beholds the new day,

or the land beyond  the river. 

My Answer

The question I asked in my blog posting yesterday was a surprise to those who read what I am writing which might explain why there was only one reader who responded.  In retrospect it is not something most of us can answer on the spur of the moment.  As one person suggested it might require some reading and thinking.  If only one page from the Old Testament and only one page from the New Testament could be kept while the rest was thrown away, what would those pages, or chapters, or passages be?  Maybe it was not a fair question to spring on a unsuspecting mind and heart when I have been wrestling with it for years.  

If I could only have one page from the Old Testament it would be the one containing the creation story recorded in chapter one.  It has come to be a foundation stone for my faith as well as my understanding of who I am in this world created by God.  It is a passage that begins with the coming into being of the eternal light which then shines in and through everything else that was made and is being made.  The climax of the creation comes as "God saw everything He had made and indeed it was very good."  (Genesis 1:31)  I love the inclusiveness of those words, "everything...very good."   

My New Testament choice is John 1:1-14.  Known as the Prologue of John's gospel, it connects what was written about the beginning with the new beginning which came with the Incarnation.  The eternal light present in the creation is described by John as being present in the flesh of the Son of God.  Though darkness has taken hold of the creation since the beginning, Jesus has come to penetrate the darkness and overcome it completely.  As we read and know the Incarnate One revealed to us by the writing of John, we are reminded again that all life has come into being through the eternal light, the One known as the Light of the World.  Again, toward the end of the passage, we are swept away by that word which says, "But to all who received Him, who believed in His name, He gave power to become children of God..." (John 1:12)

A Biblical Experiment

What is the most important page in the Old Testament?  What is the most important page in the New Testament? There is no reason to be afraid of answering.  There is no right or wrong answer.  It is a question which reflects personal choice.  There is another way of asking the same question.  If for some unimaginable reason it was only possible to have one page from the Old Testament and one page from the New Testament, what two pages would be kept?  What passages are the foundational and sustaining passages?  

The answer would not only reflect a personal decision which might be different from someone else, but is could well be an answer that would be different today from the one which might have been given during another season of our life.  Maybe it is not a question worthy of much pondering, but being retired provides time for pondering things never before thought to be ponderable.  What set me off on this Biblical tangent was remembering a story from my Asbury College days that had long been forgotten until this morning. A missionary was describing the church in China.  He spoke of Christians possessing not a whole Bible, but only a torn out page or two.  What the missionary was underscoring for those of us who had Bibles we never read was the value the persecuted church had for the sacred Scripture.  

Perhaps, this morning pondering will provide a different window for reading  the Scripture for a few days.  Maybe the place to start is to list the ten most important passages in the Old and New Testament and then to begin a slow process of elimination until only one is left.  Some might declare such to be a waste of time and maybe it is, but it might also be an exercise which would help us know what is really important about this faith of ours.  It might help us understand the core values of our system of belief.

A Season of Blessing

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

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

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

Wet Grace

I knew you were coming, friend rain.

In the field wet with sweat, I saw 

you hovering in the distant gray

as if you were gathering strength

to come my way to renew and bless

the work of my hands on the land

and for this gift, I give you thanks.

 

With tractor now sheltered, and I

settled in a chair on the porch,

I heard what was seen coming

from the distant there to here

and when I knew you were near

I wanted to jump from the porch

and share a dance of joy with you.

 

But, old friend, such days are gone.

Father time and old stiff knees 

have taken away my two step,

but still I slowly rise and go

out from under the roof above

to the air now more than filled

with falling baptismal waters.

 

What is old now knows the new

that comes from being washed

with that not earned, but given

to this weary and worn out soul.

Wet now with what has come,

I raise these aching two hands

in praise to the One who gives. 

Words about Grace

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

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

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

The Bottom of the Barrel

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

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

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

Sleepy Prayers

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

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

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

Words for the Journey

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

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

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

A Grandfather's Gift

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

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

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

Matthew 6:24

The preacher whom I heard this morning preached from a great story in the book of Acts.  Of course, the book of Acts is full of great stories, but this one was about Paul and Silas being thrown into prison for freeing a young woman of a spirit of divination.  She made money for her owners by telling fortunes and when Paul ordered the spirit out of her, it took away a source of income from the man who owned the slave-girl.  Anyone who knows anything about anything knows that upsetting the economic cart of anyone or any church can result in serious consequences.  

Paul and Silas ended up in jail.  Preachers have freedom to preach about most anything, but if serious sermons start coming from the pulpit challenging people to examine how the use of money and faith in God are connected, there are liable to be people who will tell the preacher to get back to preaching the Bible.  The truth is the Scripture has a great deal to say about our attitude toward wealth.  Jesus was about as forthright as one can be when He said, "No one can serve two masters...You cannot serve God and wealth."  (Matthew 6:24).  Jesus also told that parable about the rich young ruler who would not follow Jesus because he could not turn loose of his money.  

It has come as a rude awakening to many to realize that the money they hold actually has a hold on them.  Not only does it have a hold on them, but the accumulation of money can have such power over us that it becomes a spirit that controls us as surely as the young slave-girl was under the influence of an evil spirit.  It is really not hard to figure how much having becomes more important than giving.  Look at the church budget and figure how much is spent on maintenance and how much is spent on missions.  Look at the household budget and figure how much is given and how much is kept.  When all the pencil work is done, go back and figure on Matthew 6:24 again. 

Epiphanies in the Ordinary

After I had been here at the farm for a spell, I began to realize I was somewhere I had never been before.  While I had stood in awe at many a sunset, marveled at towering mountains, and felt I was standing at the edge of eternity when I saw unending waves crash onto the shore, I never saw the majesty of the minutiae in  the unfolding creation in which I was immersed.  I had never considered the fact that I could never see the same river twice.  It never occurred to me that the trees which seemed like forever were actually changing each day.  Neither did I know that the God who moved in the first Garden could still walk midst the garden I was growing.   

One of the most surprising things discovered as I learned about life in this place was the ordinary.  Through the ordinary God could make His presence known.  The crosses and candles and altars of the church were special things, but none of those symbols were required for God to make Himself known.   In the ordinary God quietly and softly spoke as surely as His voice thundered through the voices of Old Testament prophets such as Isaiah or Jeremiah.  Every day was a moment for something new to appear.  There were birds hatching in the blue bird boxes, pecans moving toward maturity in the trees, and wind that brought a cooling breath into worn, tired, and hot bodies.  

I could never have imagined God bringing such epiphanies into my life.  I knew about Epiphany Sunday, but not about daily epiphanies of grace.  Of all the lessons learned through creation's baptism, it is the lessons about grace that have been most constant.  I have learned and continue to learn that nothing is really about me, even less is about what I have done, and everything is about the grace of God.  The grace of God is at the beginning of everything.  It is like a strong thread which holds life together.  It is what has brought me this far and as the old song says, "it is grace which will lead me Home."  

Celtic Spirituality

Celtic spirituality had its beginning in Ireland and Scotland back as early as the third or fourth century.  It is often frowned upon as being so focused on nature and creation that it is pantheistic. It is true that the Celtic Christians often baptized places and rituals associated with pagan Druid worship so that what was pagan became Christian, but what was embraced was not pantheism, but panenthesim.  For example, some grove of trees associated with Druid worship was regarded as such sacred space that the emerging saints of Celtic spirituality re-imaged it into a sacred place for Christian worship.  

One of the things which makes Celtic spirituality a unique creature of religious life is that it came into being without being under the influence of the institutionalized Roman Church.  The theology developed by its saints was not influenced by Roman thinking; thus, what came into existence was an order of religious life not bound by the theology being developed by Augustine who preached total human depravity.  Celtic spirituality looked into the face of the baby and declared that it was not evil which was present, but goodness.  It was a faith established on the belief that there were two books of authority.  One was the written Scripture and the other was the creation.  One was the little book and the other was the big book.   

It is not surprising that when the Roman culture began to move back into the regions of England after some two hundred years of being absent that there would be a theological clash.  The conflict between the institutionalized Roman Church and Celtic spirituality came to a head in 664 at the Synod of Whitby.  The outcome of the Synod affirmed the Roman tradition and the stream of Celtic spirituality began to lose influence until it became a fringe element in the religious life of the land and its people. It has only been in recent years that the practice of the Celtic traditions has found a new place in a church that has become so institutionalized that it could be losing its heart. 

Working up a Sweat

This Sunday I am going to be preaching just up the road at a small church I served as pastor immediately after retiring.  I could say that I got an invitation which sounds better than the truth which is I volunteered.  When they get the word that I am coming, there may be a lot of weekend trips planned!  Regardless, I will show up to preach.  When I started preaching back in 1971, I had three small churches on a Charge.  It was in the day of Sunday evening worship.  The congregations were all small and sometimes evening worship crowds really did not measure up to the definition of a crowd.   

I can remember times of preaching to a single digit congregation.  Most of the time the standard length of my sermons was a little less than ten minutes; however, there was one night I got to going and could not find the conclusion so I just kept on preaching till I could think of nothing else to say.  When I finished a laymen told me that I did not need to shoot the whole load on so few people.  It could be a problem this week as well since I only preach now and again.  I will have to be careful not to unload four months of not preaching into one sermon!   What I have learned is that regardless of the frequency of preaching, or the size of the congregation, it is still serious business to stand in the pulpit to speak a word which meets the criteria of being "the word of God for the people of God." 

I find myself pondering the Scripture more intensely this week.  As I pray I am mindful of my need for the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  It is only Tuesday, but Sunday is beginning to loom large on the horizon.  The other day I came in from tractor work soaked with sweat, but I was not complaining.  After months of battling the residual weakness of chemo, it felt really good to be able to work up a sweat.  When Sunday comes, it will feel good to be able to sweat a bit while I am gifted to once again preach the Word of the Lord. 

The Gift of Silence

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

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

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

The Call of God

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

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

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

Behold, the New Has Come!

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

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

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

Wesleyan Economics

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

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

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

Before the Rising Sun

Before the rising sun came, 

the dream that tagged along, 

went, and I wondered, where?

Is it so for the other old men?

Do they dream dreams like me

to wake and watch them flee

before the cock a doodle do?

'Twas such a good one, too,

this now gone dream of mine.

I long to find it in memory,

to know again it is mine, 

but, alas, what has come

like all things that are here,

is gone to be no more.

If dreams reveal our soul,

I must venture forth now

without knowing the way

which in the dark unfolded.

Must I now step amiss

and stumble on some path

not intended for this day? 

O, Revealer, of all that is,

of all that is not yet to be,

guide these faltering feet,

make the dream a vision

wider than a single night,

one that will show the way

to this searching soul of mine.

Watch Out!

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

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

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

Rings and Repentance

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

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

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

The Demons of Prejudice

I am old enough to have memories of a day when prejudice was an accepted part of the fabric of the culture in which I lived.  It was a day when the signs of segregation were painted in bold letters that separated "whites and coloreds" at water fountains, a day when the illusion of separate but equal was accepted, and a day when white supremacy was the new master.  While some declare "not enough," we have come to a place where blacks and whites live more as one community rather than two.  

This is not to say that prejudice has disappeared.  It still raises its head to sow division, discord, and even hatred among people who choose to focus on differences instead of commonality. If given a free rein it can send people onto battlefields to kill one another.  The history recorded in books and the history being written reveals this awful reality.  Recently, while reading the Old Testament book of Ruth, I saw it as a story which was something more than a love story, or a narrative that recorded an important lineage thread.  Perhaps, it was because I had just finished reading the book of Judges where prejudice led to horrific battles where thousands were killed that I saw that the tiny book of Ruth pointed out how people who are different can choose to live together.  

It is a book from the Old Testament which points out that people can live honoring each other's traditions, respecting one another and their values, and creating communities of mutual care. In some ways it is a precursor of the not yet seen world of Jesus where neighbor was re-defined and prejudice was overcome by the heart transforming love of the Christ.  The world of the Incarnate Christ was certainly not a world empty of prejudice and the demons it gave birth.  In a world not so different than our own, Jesus showed us to the way to live in peace with one another.  

The Church Sign

For at least two years I have read a church sign which says, "Time Changes.  Jesus Does Not."  I have this thing about church signs.  The surest way to get people to ignore them is to never change them.  If this is their goal, the church down the road has accomplished it.  My problem is that I still read it.  Do I hope it might be changed?  Maybe, but after two years, I surely should let that hope die.  I have finally decided the church should at least add one more line to the sign which would read, "And Neither Does this Sign!"  

Though this church sign is likely to be the same when Jesus comes, everything else is changing.  Some of the change is harmful and some beneficial.  Some of it leads to a better world and some of it has within it the seeds of destruction.   History has shown us that the institutions of our society are slow to change and only change as a result of some kind of reaction that is revolutionary.  Institutions being threatened build their last bastions behind self-preservation.  The church as an institution seems to thrive in the world of "this is how we have always done it."  

It matters not if the church has been around several hundred years or just since yesterday.  The temptation is always to settle into a pattern of operation and to embrace a document of direction that makes change possible only by divine intervention of the Holy Spirit.  In too many places the church has lost that revolutionary spirit that became present on the Day of Pentecost.  The church in the book of Acts did not exist to fill its coffers, or to build shrines, but to share Jesus with the world.  The world does not need another political party, or another ism, but a church that is willing to shed the robes of the status quo for the revolutionary spirit of Jesus.

The Blessings of the Farm

I have learned many things from the farm.  It has been a place that has required a lot of sweat and work.  From the beginning it was my intent to tend it with care.  I  want to leave it without some heavy footprint to tell those who come after me that I was here.  I have done things like planting grass to stop good soil from washing downhill to the branch.  I have planted and pruned pecan trees, picked up dead fallen limbs, and harvested whatever crop it gave the land.  I have grown hay and provided a small herd of cows a home.  It often seems that there is no end to the things the farm ask of me.   

I somewhat expected this, but not to the extend that I experience it.  What has been surprising is the way the farm has given back to me.  If I have blessed it with attentive care, it has blessed me a thousand times more.  I have been blessed by the silence which fills this place.  In that silence I have learned to hear the soft but sure voice of God.  I have been blessed by the wisdom I have heard.  I have been blessed by many farmers who have been helpers and mentors. I have been blessed by the way the farm has filled my life with an awareness of creation.  I am not the person who left the pulpit and came to the farm and hopefully the man I have become is one that pleases the God who entrusted this land to my care.   

One of the most transforming lessons the farm has taught is that it does not belong to me.  My name is on the deed in the courthouse, but I have come to think of the farm as belonging not to me, but to its own self.  It has seen many like me come and go and there will many who will walk and work this place behind me.  The land is the constant.  It is never really owned by any of us.  The owner is, of course, the Creator God who has enabled me to share a span of time with the land that has given me a home and roots on this earth. What a wonderful blessing it has been and continues to be.  

Behind and Ahead

On this day in 1932 my mother was born as the last of nine children on a farm in deep South Georgia.  She grew up like most children of that day and region.  Necessities were mostly provided, but not much else.  Her childhood stories were not about dolls and fancy dresses, but picking cotton by hand alongside of older brothers and sister.  She gave me and my sisters many gifts.  She gave us an education she did not have, a work ethic that kept us away from any feelings of entitlement, and a deep and abiding faith in God.  She lived a long life and became one of those saints who made a difference in the places where God put her as she lived out those years.  

She died back during the days of covid, but I remember her today as one who became one of the foundational pillars of my life.  Any and everything I have accomplished in life is built upon the love and the sacrifice she offered in my behalf.  Whenever we foolishly began to think that what we have done with our own life is all about me, we need to climb down off the pedestal where we have put ourselves and look more closely at those who have made the way possible for us.  Hopefully, all of us have parents who stand first on that list, but there are surely others who have invested in us when we were mostly empty and trying to figure out what to do with the life given to us.  

There is a long list of neighbors, and teachers, and peers who have helped us to reach this point of our journey.  There are so many behind us who can no longer hear any words of appreciation, but we can express our thanks to them by being an enabling person to those who are walking along a little behind us.  In many places and in many ways the Word of God calls us to pass on our faith and the values that come with it to the generation behind us.  May we be as faithful as those who have come before us.

Remembering Wendell Berry

A member, perhaps, even more so,

of the membership past and present,

and stretching out into the beyond,

you still remain.  Though not here, 

but there, we will long call your name

as one who knew us as you knew

Jayber, Burley, Hannah, and Old Jack.

 

Long will we remember the farmer

who trailed along behind mules and 

the writer who shunned the keyboard

for the simple sheet of paper and pen.

You wrote as if you knew our hearts, 

as if you knew we were where we were,

but somehow still strangers far from home.

 

You always cared about us, Wendell Berry,

in ways we did not know we needed care.

Though Baptist we saw the heart of Francis

and in your love for the old ways, Thoreau.

When you entered into the world of memory,

we grieved, hugged books from the shelves,

and wished once more to hear your voice.

 

Thank you, for all you said and tried to do,

for all you wanted to do that was for our good.

Be blessed in the eternal holy membership

which is a part of the one lived in here.

Though your chair on the porch is empty

we know you  are in the other room, 

and we wait with hearts filled with memories. 

 

Wendell Berry (August 5, 1934-August 31, 2026) 

An Evening Prayer

This morning in a devotional time, I pulled an Episcopal resource, "The Book of Common Prayer" off the shelf.   As I turned the pages, I found an evening prayer that at one time not too long ago I prayed at night when my head settled on the pillow.  The changing seasons of life took me away from that discipline and as I moved forward into what was ahead, I left the prayer behind.  It was a surprise to find it again this morning.  It brought back some good memories and an awareness that I wanted to return once again to making this prayer a part of my evening discipline.  

The prayer from "The Book of Common Prayer" reads, "Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep.  Lord Christ, give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous, and all for Your love's sake." Amen."  The prayer took root in my heart during a season of being a caregiver when sleep was often hard to find.  More than I had been was I aware of people like nurses who worked in the night, of people who were weeping beside loved one, and of those who were watching for the morning to finally come to take the darkness away.   

It was also a prayer that served me so very well in praying for others.  I knew those, and still do, who need rest and blessing, comfort and mercy.  As Jesus prayed, "lead us not into temptation" so is it a good thing to pray that those who live only with its joys to be shielded from the darkness that is ever lurking.  This prayer of days past is going to become a part of the days that are present.  It is a prayer easy to memorize and pray in those moments when we put ourselves in God's hands one more night.

He is Still Here

According the Genesis the devil and the evil which he seeks to do in the world God has created has been around since the beginning.  In the Garden called Eden, he tempted Adam and Eve.  In the wilderness near the Jordan River, he tempted Jesus.  When Jesus taught His disciples to pray, He taught them to pray, "deliver us from evil, or "deliver us from the evil one." (Matthew 6:13).  When the Apostle Paul wrote the church at Ephesus, he included an admonition and warning.  "Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil...For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against...the spiritual forces of evil..." (Ephesians 6:10-12).  

Even though we pray that prayer about being protected from evil each Sunday when we gather for worship, no one really seems to take the devil seriously.  The devil C.S. Lewis reveals in "The Screwtape Letters" takes great delight in our quest to make his presence and power irrelevant.  The angels in the Kingdom of God might have had some concern about the God is dead movement decades ago, but the demons of the evil one take delight in our living as if he does not exist.  Given our culture one wonders if anyone, even the church, really regards the evil one as a serious and dangerous threat.  

Actually, the world is full of the chaos of evil.  We live in an age of constant warfare.  A spirit of division permeates our society.  People seem more interested in retribution and anger rather than reconciliation and forgiveness.  Ordinary folks like us who want to do the things that please Christ still find ourselves doing the things we do not want to do.  The ugly and mostly ignored word, sin, is still as present in our world as the evil one himself.  It is not just the world which needs the Savior Jesus Christ, but each one of us for Satan still "seeks to work us woe."  

Hearing the Voice

One of my favorite Biblical stories is found in the third chapter of I Samuel.  It is the story of a boy on his way to becoming a priest who would anoint Saul as the first King of Israel.  In the darkness of night the Lord called out to the young Samuel who was "ministering to the Lord under Eli."  (I Samuel 3:1).  Three times the Lord called his name and each time he went to Eli's bed thinking that it was his voice that was sounding throughout the Temple and into his heart.  Finally, Eli, the priest, told the boy, "Go, lie down; and if He calls you, you shall say, 'Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening.'"  (I Samuel 3:9).  

In our day there are at least a few obstacles to hearing the Lord speak.  The first is becoming convinced that the Lord does speak.  Too many times the sound of His voice is unheard because our hearts are not open to hearing. We no longer have ears to hear what cannot be heard with the ears of birth.  A second obstacle is overcoming our fear of being in the silence.  Our lives are flooded with noise and visual distractions.  It is a hard thing for many of us to put ourselves in a position where the Holy Spirit can filter out the chaos so that we can begin to hear the whispering voice of God.  A third obstacle has to do with discernment.  There are many voices which can be heard when we do enter into the silence and it often takes time to know which voice belongs to God.  

If we are serious about learning to live in a world where God speaks to be heard, it requires that we go forth with a faith that declares His voice can be heard and a spirit that is willing to wait patiently and with expectancy.  There is no need for us to become spiritually tongue tied when we talk about hearing the voice of God.  While that voice is not likely to be heard like the sounds of those voices around us as we practice the disciplines of stillness and listening, there will come that time when His voice is not heard from the outside but from the inner place where His Spirit abides.

Just a Child

After Samson pulled the pillars on the pagan temple built by the Philistines to honor their god, Dagon, the era of the judges ended in Israel.  In that vacuum came a time of  political chaos as tribes vied for powers over others.  As we turn the pages and move away from the book of Judges, we see a time when priests like Eli and later Samuel would hold sway over the forward movement of the nation.  As the story of Samuel unfolds, we see Israel moving away from battling tribal chieftains to a time when Israel wanted a King so they could be like other nations.  

At the very beginning we read the story of the barren woman, Hannah, striking a deal with God. "O Lord of hosts,...if you will give to Your servant a male child, then I will set him before You..." (I Samuel 1:11).  The Scripture says the Lord remembered her prayer and she conceived and gave birth to a son whom she named Samuel.  True to her vow, when the boy was old enough to be weaned, he was as she said, "lent to the Lord, as long as he lives, he is given to the Lord,"  (I Samuel 1:28) and left at the temple of Shiloh to serve under the guidance of Eli.  

Thus, a boy was put in a place where God would prepare him to become a priest and shape a nation.  It is a story which brings to mind a word which the Lord spoke to the prophet, Jeremiah.  "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet..." (Jeremiah 1:5).  I remember many from my college days who were boys as was I when the Lord called:  Tom, Wayne, Gary, Rex, Jack, Jim, and Harold.  Like the boy Samuel, they were each brought to a place which God used to prepare them for what was ahead.  We can never know what God is doing in the heart of some young boy or girl who sits in the place of worship with us.

A Welcomed Break

Anyone reading the Scripture from Genesis to Revelation will find a welcome change when they turn the last page of the book of Judges.  The next book to be read is a story full of the human drama.  There is loss and grief, there is loyalty that goes beyond boundaries normally imposed upon people, there is the drama of a journey, and there is a love story that become a part of God's unfolding plan of redemption through Jesus of Nazareth.  

Ruth, a woman of Moab married a Jewish man who had journeyed from Israel with his mother to her homeland due to a famine in Israel.  When he died, Ruth chose to leave her homeland and return to Naomi's home in Bethlehem.  It makes for an interesting story for a number of reasons.  One, of course, is that Boaz, the Hebrew, marries Ruth and they have a child named Obed who is the grandfather of King David. The gospel of Matthew traces the genealogy of Joseph, the wife of Mary, the mother of Jesus with the words, "Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David." (Matthew 1:5-6).  As the book of Ruth closes, we are catching a glimpse of the unfolding, but not yet, revealed plan of God for the salvation of the world.  

Another thing which makes the story of Ruth so compelling and relevant is the way it illustrates how different  people can live together peacefully, with respect for one another, and even with love for one another.  It is the story of broken barriers. What a change this is from the book of Judges where differences are resolved through bloodshed and power.  In this world of ours so filled with division, here is a reminder that differences need not engender hatred, prejudice, and violence.  People can live together in peace.  It is possible.  It is even possible in the divided communities in which we live.

Afternoon Wanderings

Honestly, I am not sure how I got there.  Or, why.  Nonetheless, I have been wandering around the last few days in the Old Testament book known as Judges.  The historical setting is after Joshua's death.  The people of Israel are entrenched in the Promised Land, but they are surrounded by tribes of people ruled by minor kings who have no desire to share the land with them.  In the centuries after the strong leadership of Joshua, the Hebrew people survive more like a loosely knit society without any centralized leadership.  In this political vacuum, the twelve judges appear one after the other.  

They are not judges as we use the term today; instead, they were military or tribal leaders upon whom the Spirit of the Lord more or less rested.  They were at best a strange lot.  The first one, Othniel, was one whom the "spirit of the Lord came upon" (Judges 3:10) and his leadership gave the land 40 years of peace.  The next one, Ehud, (Judges 3:15) was known as a left handed man who stuck a short sword in the belly of a fat king.  Another is remembered as one who killed six hundred Philistines with an oxgoad.  The only female judge was Deborah.  Other than Samson, Gideon is likely the most well known.  All the rest are there on the pages of Judges, as Oliver Cromwell, said, "warts and all."   

To wander in the chapters of Judges is to wonder what God was thinking about if these flawed people were His choices for the leadership of His people. Some of them did terrible things.  I wondered about this until I ran into myself in the mirror.  Who among us can understand the mind of God?  Who among us can figure out why God uses such obviously flawed people to lead people toward His purposes?  Not I.  I do not understand.  Pausing there before the mirror only makes me wonder even more!

Straining Forward

The Scripture has words within it that speak directly to the heart.  There are words that are clear and impossible to misunderstand.  Their meaning is clear.  The Scripture is also a book filled with images which speak surely if not directly.  The images are bearers of truth which require not just a reading, but some pondering.  While some of the words blow us over, the images of the Scripture are more likely to wash over us with a soft and gentle stirring of the heart.  

They come to us in a way that invites us to sit with them and become a part of them.  The images left for us in the Word by the Spirit invite us to be soaked more than shaken.  They invite us to walk slowly into truths not yet seen.  I was reminded of this as one of the images of the Apostle Paul came to mind this evening.  In Philippians 3:13, he wrote about "...straining forward to what lies ahead."  Is this not a word which speaks of Abraham as he left the land he knew as home?  Is it not a word which fits Moses as he led the Hebrews out of Pharaoh's grasp? Is it not a word which describes Peter, James, and John as they moved from being fishermen, to disciples, to Apostles, to missionaries?  

Is not this "straining forward to what lies ahead" what we are all about as followers of Jesus?  We know not what is ahead.  We only know Who is ahead.  As one set on going after Jesus, we are constantly looking in the way He is going for it is the way He is leading us.  Long ago many of us heard and sang that gospel song which said, "Where He leads me I will follow..."  Like Abraham and all the others who came after him, we knew not where His leading was going to take us, but we were bent on following and getting there.  And so, we strain forward to whatever lies ahead.

The Embrace of the Savior

It surely must seem to some that I am just an old preacher who longs for days which exist only in my memory.  Perhaps, I come across as one who is too judgmental about the church as it moves into an era of ministry which is so different than the one I knew.  I have no argument with anyone who reaches such conclusions.  The younger version of myself was not always open and receptive to the words of those pastors and preachers upon whose shoulders I stood every time I stood in the pulpit.  The truth is I do not hope and pray for the past to be re-invented, but that the church would once again become intentional about inviting people to experience a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.  

A preacher whose sermons I hear often keeps talking about the need to connect head and heart.  Of course, he is right, but it is also true that the church of our day is too much about the head and not enough about the heart.  Knowing the right thing to do is not the same as being the person who does the right thing because of a heart changed by a relationship with Jesus.  The church puts the cart before the horse when it calls people to serve Christ in the world before connecting them to the Christ in such a way that His living presence is known in their heart.  We call people to go to the ends of the earth without the fuel to get there and without the spiritual life which will enable them to stay once they go.  

My conviction is that our problems are not political or psychological, but spiritual.  So many are wandering without a destination and without an awareness of home.  More and more I am convinced that there is more spiritual hunger out there in the world as well as in the church than most of us think could be possible.  I long for the church I remember to become the church that not only provides a safe place, but one that also invites people to know that home is within the loving embrace of the Savior.   

A Fear of the Church

There are no doubt some churches where emotionalism runs rampant.  There are communities where the measure of a worship gathering is the emotional response.  The stronger the expressions of emotions, the more the Spirit is at work is something which might be said.  However, in so many of our mainline churches of the day, an emotional response on the part of someone is a fearful thing.  In the years of being out of the pulpit I have heard powerful testimonies which ended with a "thank you very much, now let's get back to the order of worship" kind of response.  I have also heard sermons in which the Holy Spirit was so present that people were on the edge of their seats eager to respond only to have the benediction pronounced.   

Being one who has led worship services for over forty years, I appreciate the need for worship that is intentional and orderly. The problem is that sometimes we are so married to the order of worship that the Holy Spirit has no room to slip into the room with a new plan.  At all costs the mainline church wants to avoid any appearance of being charismatic, or even evangelistic.  Of all my laments for our contemporary church, the loss of invitational sermons and an atmosphere that encourages people to make a personal response for Jesus is the greatest. The assumption seems to be that everyone who is in the church on Sunday morning is already locked in to being a disciple of Jesus.  I have always maintained there are too many who are Christians by assumption rather than decision.  

While there is nothing wrong with baptisms of infants and members of the annual Confirmation group, I long for the day when the baptismal waters are constantly being stirred because people are being touched to the core by the power of the Holy Spirit, the grace of God, and the love of the Lord Jesus Christ.  A church that is not baptizing new believers needs to be asking "Why not?"  A church that is not encouraging people to experience something more in their spiritual journey is missing the mark.  A church afraid of people shedding tears of repentance has lost its way. 

The Prayer Box

Along the highway out in the country not too far from the farm is something on the side of the road which is as striking as the roof tops on barns which shouted out, "See Rock City.'"   It may not command to be seen, but it is planted above the mailbox on the edge of the road as it waits for daily mail.  It is actually a half size replica of the mail box and has written on it in red letters, "Prayer Box."  Every time I pass that way and I have often in recent years, I think I should stop and meet its owner.  

It also sets me to wondering.  It is obviously there for people to leave prayer request.  Is it part of a church's prayer ministry, or is it some individual's response to God?  Could it be some house bound person's way of praying for the community and the world?  The tire tracks in front of it tell the tale of people stopping and putting something in the box. It is not just an ornamental statement of faith, but something useful for the Kingdom of God.  I wonder how many prayer requests are put in the "Prayer Box" each week and if there is any communication between the person praying and the person in need of prayer?  For those of us who might be tempted to say that due to our circumstances there is nothing we can do for God, this pint size prayer box speaks volumes.  

I remember a worn out saint at the end of her days who had pictures of the church staff stuck to a mirror over a dresser so she would be reminded to pray for us each day.  I shall never forget a widow of limited financial means who canceled a magazine subscription so she could give to the church's mission project.  What we do for God may sometimes seem to be small and insignificant, but in the Kingdom all the mustard seeds that are planted bear fruit a hundred fold. 

Come, Mortal.

"Mortal, I have come, it is time."

"Time for what?" I quickly said.

"Time for you to come and leave

what is behind for what is ahead."

"I cannot.  Go away.  Leave me be

for I have things to do, places to go, 

a life full of stuff not yet done."

 

"Go!  Go now, and quickly!" I said, 

I have no time for You in this day."

"Ah, but do you not yet know

that time is not what you have?

The times that comes and goes

is now no more and all that is left

is the time set aside for leaving."

 

"Call me not, Mortal, for I am more.

See these words that are on my walls,

I have a name, I have titles and awards.

I am honored by others, respected, too.

When I speak, others know to listen.

Call me not, Mortal, for as you see,

I am not just anyone, but someone."

 

"Mortal, all you say matters not, 

it is time. Not for anyone or someone,

but for you it is the appointed time."

"Please, wait a day," I cried aloud,

"I have things to do for those I love.

Important words I have not yet said."

"Mortal, come now." And so I went. 

A Horrible Story

Hidden in the pages of the Old Testament book of Judges is the story of Jephthah, a mighty warrior of Gilead.  It is such a horrible story.  It seems to defy understanding.  "...the Spirit of the Lord came upon Jephthah..." (Judges 11:29), but still he was afraid as he stood on the eve of a great battle with the Ammonites.  In an effort to secure the victory, he made a vow to the Lord, "If You will give the Ammonites into my hand, then whoever comes out of the doors of my house to meet me, when I return victorious...shall be the Lord's, to be offered up by me as a burnt offering." (Judges 11:30-31).  When he returned home victorious his daughter, his only child,  comes out  of the house with timbrels and with dancing.  (Judges 11:34).  The story ends with the Scripture simply saying of this warrior and father, "he did with her according to the vow he had made."  (Judges 11:39).    

Try as we might to make it spiritually palatable and some commentators do, it is a story that is so repulsive it makes us sick to read it.  The only way to make any sense of the story is to see it as an example of how sin can destroy us and all those we love.  The Lord did not require the vow.  It was already in His heart to give the victory to Jephthah.  The vow was Jephthah's decision.  Human sacrifice was clearly forbidden by Yahweh. (Leviticus 18:21, Deuteronomy 12:3, 18:10-12).  Baal worship which was practiced by the tribes of the region as well as the Hebrew people themselves from time to time allowed for human sacrifice.  Jephthah's vow was not something required or desired by the Lord and was birthed from the sin in his heart.  It could reap nothing but destruction.  

What may seem like an ancient barbarian story that has no relevance actually has a great deal of relevance.  It speaks to those of us who try to live in the world that calls us to get ahead and accumulate at any cost while Jesus calls us to put self aside for the sake of the Kingdom of God.  Standing in both worlds is impossible.  We must decide where we want to stand.  Jephthah speaks to us of the disaster inherent in the sinful choice.  

Sixty Years on the Road

It occurred to me a few days ago that it has been sixty years since I knelt by my bed in a Methodist parsonage and received Christ into my life.  While that moment was not my first encounter with God, it was the one that has carried me through this long journey.  When I was seven years old, my father died which resulted in a conclusion that there had to be a God and there had to be a heaven.  I could not conceive of any other alternative.  At age seventy-eight, I still stand by the conviction of my childhood except now I would not use the words, "had to be."  Instead, I would use the words "there is." 

I was baptized at age nine by a pastor who my mother would later marry and the influence he had on my faith journey could never be measured.  Though baptized I can only confess to dabbling with what it meant to be committed to Christ during my teenage years.  I went to many altars during those years, but nothing really took with holding power until that night in the Alamo parsonage.  I have not made that moment of beginning the whole of my story, but being the beginning, it will always be an important part of it.  

While there are many people of faith in Christ who speak not of a moment of beginning, but of a lifetime of not knowing what it is to live without loving God, we are all somehow mysteriously given a life which can only be described as a new creation.  While there are many who have cast a strong and lasting shadow of influence on our life, there is not one who has worked the miracle of change and transformation as has Christ Jesus.  Like the father of the prodigal son parable, He is the One who enables us to know home.  We were marked with His holiness at conception and though we choose wandering, He waits with patience for us to turn toward the home He has been preparing and holding for us.  I am grateful for both his patience and His grace. 

A Freight Train of A Word

I cannot really say that I remember hearing the word before I arrived at Asbury College in 1968.  It is a word that carries enough letters to be a long freight train.  I ran into again a few days ago as I was reading a daily devotional from Oswald Chambers' "My Utmost for His Highest."  I started using the devotional guide back in my Asbury College days and ever since it has been no further than a reach away.  After his death in the early part of the 20th century, Oswald's wife actually compiled the readings from his talks, writings, and devotionals.   

A few days ago I read, "Sanctification is not my idea of what I want God to do for me; sanctification is God's idea of what He wants to do for me and He has to get me into the attitude of mind and spirit where at any cost I will let Him sanctify me wholly."  It is a word that brings to mind I Thessalonians 5:23 which says, "May the God of peace Himself sanctify you wholly..."  The New Revised Standard Version of the Bible has the word "wholly" reading "entirely," but in this instance I am going to hang on to the way I memorized the verse.  For many of today's believers that freight train of a theological word is scary.  It is scary because it is misunderstood.  

The sanctified are not some group of spiritually elite souls removed from the trials and temptations of life, but those are seeking the help of the Holy Spirit so that they can leave a life of total surrender to God each day.  Though both Scriptural and Wesleyan, it is not really preached or taught in a way that calls those committed to Christ to step into a life of absolute abandonment to God so that the Holy Spirit is free to do with us, to shape us, and to lead us regardless of our own desires, wants, and wishes.  

A "Do Over"

What is done is done and cannot be done again.  As one of John Wesley's worn out preachers, I look back from time to time and wish I could do some things differently.  I was always convinced that worship was one of the most important ministries of the church and worked in a very intentional manner to be faithful to that conviction.  Having said this, there are still things I would do differently if I could be given a "do over."  One of those things is that I would make more space for the Sacrament.    

I know our historical tradition is one of a pulpit centered ministry.  Circuit riders preachers showed up, but certainly not every Sunday.  Though Wesley encouraged the Methodists of England to go to the Anglican Church for weekly communion, such never happened in the rapidly expanding American frontier.  In the South in which I lived as a boy, the Holy Sacrament never really had the place of importance that it did for Wesley.  When I was ordained the church in many places offered the Sacrament only quarterly.  In the span of the years, the first Sunday became a Communion Sunday which is the practice of most Methodist churches of the day.  

While the Sacrament was offered with more frequency, some of the back room conversations revealed a strange reluctance.  In some places people stayed home because it was not real church.  Preachers often lamented the way first Sunday offerings were down because of lower attendance.  And even now, the liturgy is so neglected that most have forgotten "The Prayer of Humble Access" and the Prayer of Consecration is done so quickly it would be missed by God if He blinked His eyes. The moment of the Sacrament is no longer entered into reverently, but raced through as it must be done by noon.  If I had a "do over," I would be more intentional about reversing what was then a trend, but is now something that has been incorporated into the life of the church as normal and enough.

A Different Rhythm

Years ago I taught several sessions about worship to a group of young preachers.  It was mostly about how to lead worship.  Looking back is to realize what I offered was mostly about how to do worship.  While there was nothing wrong with what I presented back then, if I were to do it over today, some things would certainly be different.  The passing of some twenty years, the experiences of those years, and hopefully the way the Holy Spirit has been nudging me to move has revealed some things that apparently were invisible to me back then since I seem not to have seen them.   

While I know it sounds redundant, worship should create a place for worship.  The church seems to have moved far away from worship even though what it does still goes by that name.  Worship is more synonymous with entertainment and performance.  It is so choreographed that the Holy Spirit has no room to wiggle in.  It creates spectators instead of participants.  The rhythm is a hurried one.  There is always movement.  Seldom is there any silence, or time for being.  Even though the walk by communion participants are invited to kneel at an altar after receiving the Sacrament, the very atmosphere is one of come quickly and hurry to your seats.   

There is no place for being anymore.  Maybe it never existed.  Maybe it existed only in a memory that is filled more with fantasy than reality.  Maybe it is the part of worship for which my heart longed, but could not find.  What gave birth to all these thoughts on worship was attendance at a service of worship in another tradition where the preacher sat down after the sermon and there was simply silence for what seemed like several minutes.  No one jumped up to announce a hymn; the people just sat in a silence that gave opportunity to reflect on what had been proclaimed as the Word of God.  It made me think that the church needs to find a different rhythm for worship, one that allows not for doing, but being.

The Unresolved

When Jacob fled the home of his father, Issac, it was to escape the wrath of his brother, Esau, whom he had cheated out of his birthright.  As he walked that road of looking over his shoulder, he acquired many of the things men seek to acquire, but there finally came a time when the desire for home could no longer be ignored.  As he prepared himself to meet his brother, he was fearful.  

On the night before the meeting, he sent his wives and all his possessions ahead across the final stream to be crossed.  He was at that moment separated from his two wives, his eleven children, and everything he possessed.  Everything dear to his heart and all the wealth which gave his life identity was on one side of this stream and he was on the other.  The Scripture says, "Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak."  (Genesis 32:24).  It was a strange wrestling match.  All through the night the struggle continued.  Just before the sun rose, the struggle ended with Jacob being "...struck...on the hip socket at the thigh muscle."  (Genesis 32:32).  Jacob limped till the day he died.

It is strange that the story identifies the one who wrestled with Jacob as a man.  (Genesis 32:24). Jacob knew differently for during the struggle, the man said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for  you have striven with God..." (Genesis 32:28) and later Jacob would say, "...I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved."  (Genesis 32:30).  It is a story full of mystery.  Certainly, it is possible it is the story of a dream which reflected Jacob's fear of possible retribution from his brother, but it could have been a dream of a life which had been lived with the guilt that had been a part of his life since the day he decided to take his life in his own hands instead of trusting God with it.  Perhaps, you and I have had such dreams as we wrestled with the unforgiven issues in our own life.

Crucified

When I read Paul saying, "...the world has been crucified to me and I to the world," (Galatians 6:14), I could not help but remember the Desert Fathers a few centuries later who spoke of going to the desert as a way of escaping a shipwreck of a society.  In both cases the word is separation.  Both realized life in Christ and life in society is not possible.  Of course, this sounds strange because everything we have learned about the Christian life calls us to be the presence of Jesus in the world.   

We remember, too, something Jesus said in the passage known as the High Priestly Prayer.  As we read John 17:14-16 we hear Jesus praying, "I have given them Your word, and the world has hated them because they do not belong to the world.  I am not asking You to take them out of the world, but I ask You to protect them from the evil one.  They do not belong in the world, just as I do not belong in the world." Again we find a word about separation and belonging.  What Paul was declaring is that we cannot allow ourselves to be influenced, directed, and controlled by the values of the world and for Paul the only way to maintain this way of life was to consider himself one to whom the world had been crucified which means it, therefore. no longer has any bearing on how he lives.  

The Apostle Paul calls us in many places to the surrendered life, the abandoned life, the life where all that matters is serving and living for Christ.  The kind of crucifixion of which Paul speaks is one where things like accumulating, looking out for number one, and climbing some ladder which makes us feel more important no longer have any influence over us.  The kind of crucifixion of which Paul speaks is the one where the Holy Spirit has absolute control over our heart.  Only then is our self seeking and self serving ego crucified.

A Call to Pray

Over the forty-three years of my preaching ministry, I have served ten different congregations.  Some were small, some were not so small, and some were larger.  They were all different; however, one thing they all had in common were problems.  As we read the Apostle Paul's letter to the churches of Galatia, we see that Paul had the same kind of churches.  Though he left them for other missions, he still felt responsibility for the spiritual life of the churches into which he had poured himself.  Paul spends a good portion of the first part of the letter defending his apostleship.  

Apparently, there were those who said he was a pretender instead of someone with real authority like Simon Peter.  As we read into the letter, his dismay, disappointment, and anger become obvious.  He is a shepherd who has been accused of not caring for his sheep.  "Some...are confusing you and want to pervert the gospel of Christ,"  (Galatians 1:7) he told them.  He was astonished that the people had allowed themselves to be led astray by false teachers who were actually declaring him to be the false teacher.  So real was the danger that Paul wrote, "I am afraid that my work for you may have been wasted."  (Galatians 4:11).  

He reminds them of their previous kindness toward him.  They did not scorn or despise him because of his physical infirmity.  The goodwill of the past was gone and now he was seen as the enemy.  Despite the things which are falsely being said and accepted about him, he wrote, "I wish I were present with you and could change my tone, for I am perplexed by you."  (Galatians 4:20).  Some may say that the letter Paul wrote to the Galatians is an angry letter, and indeed it is, but it is also a letter which comes from a broken heart.  He loved the people and cared for them even though they were speaking ill of him.  It is a word which reminds us to pray for our preachers and spiritual leaders instead of talking about them.  

A Transforming Passage

When we read that section in Galatians about the fruit of the Spirit, we must realize that it is not about us, but about the Holy Spirit,   There was a time in my life when I read these characteristics of those who live by the Spirit and decided that those words would speak of my daily goals.  I thought I could do a makeover that would enable me to be such a person.  I would be loving. I would be joyful.  I would be a person of peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, and self control.  (Galatians 5:22-23). I approached the fruit of the Spirit like we approach New Year's resolution.  Everyone knows how long that works.   

Here is the thing.  We cannot do for ourselves what only the Holy Spirit can do in us.  This passage is not setting forth a list for us to accomplish; instead, it speaks to us about the way the Holy Spirit can reshape the life of one who lives the abandoned life.  The abandoned life is the one in which the will of God takes  precedence over the desires of personal ego.  I may be able to make myself respond over the short haul with kindness and love, but the problem comes in the unplanned and spontaneous moments.  It is in those moments that most of us all fall short.  

This passage is a transforming passage because it speaks of the way the Holy Spirit seeks to take our heart and make it into something that begins to resemble the heart of Jesus.  If our lives are going to truly reflect the life of Jesus, it will not be because of what we do, but because of how we have allowed the Spirit to transform the motivational core of our spirit.  The fruit of the Spirit is seen in us not according to what we plan to do, or strive to do, but according to the way the spontaneous moments give expression to what is happening in our heart because the Spirit abides there and is given complete control.

One or the Other

A reading of Paul's letter to the Galatian Christians reveals that the Apostle put all people into two categories.  It had nothing to do with being Jew or Greek, male or female, slave or free.  There were those who chose to "live by the Spirit" (Galatians 5:25) and there were those who live to "gratify the desires of the flesh." (Galatians 5:16).  It is clear that it is an "either-or" choice.  The two life choices are not compatible.  Anything less than an absolute surrender to the life in the Spirit means that the choice is to gratify the desires of the flesh.  There is no room for any kind of compromise in the heart.  

While it is true that Jesus was talking about wealth when He said, "No one can serve two masters..." (Matthew 6:24) it is equally as true that we cannot live according to the Holy Spirit and the life of the flesh which the evil one entices us to embrace.  The Scripture characterizes those who live according to the flesh by saying, ""Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fortification, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these."  ((Galatians 5:19-21)  What is described here is the undisciplined, out of control  life of a self seeking ego.   

On the other hand those who live by the Spirit are bearers of "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control." (Galatians 5:22-23)  These characteristics are called "the fruit of the Spirit" meaning that they are produced from within the heart by the Holy Spirit. Those who choose life in the Spirit submit themselves to the controlling influence of the Holy Spirit so that their hearts begin to resemble the heart of Jesus.  Those who live according to the Spirit live not to satisfy the undisciplined ego, but to live according to the will of God.  Such is our choice.

The Higher Way

In his letter to the churches of Galatia, Paul calls them to a higher way.  The higher way as Paul spoke of it did not begin with the Jewish law.  According to the Apostle, the law was of value in that it served God's people as a disciplinarian "until Christ came."  (Galatians 3:24).  The law's value is affirmed as we hear Jesus saying in the Sermon on the Mount, "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have not come to abolish, but to fulfill. (Matthew 5:17).  

As important as the law was to the Jewish people, it was meant to be a light which led the people of God forward until the Light came as flesh among us.  The Incarnation changed everything.  No longer would righteousness be defined by doing; instead, it would defined by a faith response to what God did through His son on the cross.  The law was confined within the constraints of a specific time.  Faith in Christ opened up the doors of eternity. The law divided people into two groups.  There were Jews and there were Gentiles.  There were the people of God and there were the heathens.  

With Christ all the divisions were shattered, "for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith....There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus."  (Galatians 3:26-28).  When Christ came the exclusivism of the law was replaced by the inclusive faith in Christ that opened the door for everyone regardless of the way old labels had provided for separation.

The Table of the Hypocrites

Simon Peter was Jesus' right hand man.  He is one regarded with super saint status.  Of course, we also know he was a man with one or two flaws.  Like the other disciples, he became more concerned about status instead of serving.  When Jesus needed someone to pray while He went apart to pray, Peter went to sleep.  When Jesus was being tried, Peter was out in the courtyard warming himself in front of a fire and mixing his language with a few expletives to prove he was not one of the disciples of Jesus.   

It might seem to some that Peter had gotten all the kinks worked out on his walk with Jesus on the beach.  On the Day of Pentecost this disciple who had been filled with the blowing wind of the Spirit preached a sermon which converted over three thousand people.  Those who are tempted to think that the baptized in the Spirit Petehad arrived at some super state in his spiritual life only need to read what Paul reported in his letter to the Galatian Christians.  Paul tells a story which tells of a Peter who still struggled with what people thought of him.  "But, when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face...for until certain people came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But, after they came, he drew back and kept himself separate for fear of the circumcision faction." (Galatians 2:12). 

Peter ate with the Gentiles until a visiting group of Jewish Christians showed up and then he backed away from the table.  His behavior is, of course, a visual definition of hypocrisy.  Peter, like any hypocrite said he believed one thing, but his actions betrayed him.  He wore two faces, one to please the Gentiles and then another as he tried to please the visitors from Jerusalem.  Whenever we preach one thing and practice another, we end up sitting at the table of the hypocrites with Simon Peter.  It is like sitting on a barb wire fence.  It becomes very uncomfortable.