At the Bottom

Today I led worship and preached ten miles up the road at the Rocky Ford UMC. As I anticipated this morning I knew I would need my Bible and my Hymnal. Both were still packed in moving boxes. While I have had a Bible available for reading, it is not the one I had been using as a preaching companion for some years now. So, Saturday afternoon I started my search. I went through all the boxes and found neither of the sought after books. I started telling myself they were gone, lost and never to be found. A second search was more thorough and more fruitful. I found both my pulpit Bible and my Hymnal side by side at the bottom of one of the boxes. Being at the bottom meant that they were the first ones packed which spoke a quiet word about their importance to me.

The two books have been worship companions for at least the last seven years. The Hymnal was given to me as a parting gift by the staff at the Perry Church. The Bible was bought as a replacement for one so worn out, it would fall apart if carried into the pulpit. While the Hymnal has pages that have been doused by baptismal water, the Bible bears its markings as well. Most of those marking are notes, underlinings, arrows, and brackets. When my memory fails about the chapter and verse of a certain Word, I often am able to find it by remembering its location on the page and the markings which lift it up.

Over the years of preaching, I have always had a Bible that was used exclusively for preaching. Picking it up reminded me that something important was before me. Picking it up reminded me that the task was to speak in such a way that the written Word became the spoken Word. It was good to put my Bible and my Hymnal to good use this morning. I pray that I was as well.

Quiet Enough to Hear

It was about sunset today when I heard them coming. I peered through the gray sky in the direction of the loud honking noise until I saw them. As I watched, these Canadian Geese came directly toward me in a perfect V-formation over our farm toward our neighbor's pond. They were no more than a hundred feet above me as they came soaring by. For some reason, as they drew overhead they ceased their honking. I looked up, was amazed at how close they were, and thought it better to look down in case something unwanted came dropping from the air. Better to be hit on the top of the head than in a mouth opened in awe and amazement! As I looked down for a moment, I heard something I had never heard. It was perfectly quiet. In that silence I heard the sound of fifty wings moving up and down through the air. It was an indescribable, gentle, soft, rushing sound. It was a moment of sheer wonder!

In our world filled with constant noise, it is not always quiet enough to hear. I had always missed the sound of wings moving through the air because other sounds and noises were too overwhelming. Surely, living in a world that is not quiet enough keeps us from experiencing "the sheer sound of silence" (I Kings 19:12). Such was how the prophet Elijah experienced the holy presence of God.

There are those moments of quietness which slip up on all of us, but most of the time it is necessary to be intentional about creating them, or moving into them as they are shaped for us by God. Allowing the demanding noises to captivate our attention only means missing some of the important stuff God has for us. If we truly want to hear the voice of God and know the wonder of His presence in our lives, it must be quiet enough to hear.

Sunday Morning Word

This past Sunday morning included the usual appointment. Susie is our German Shorthair Pointer. Each morning I let her out of the pen, pour a bowl full of dry dog food, and stand around somewhere nearby while she eats. My presence seems to help her stay focused on eating instead of running off after some scent in the air. As I stood there I watched her scrounging around on the ground for a few pieces of food that missed the bowl. I thought, "Dumb dog! You have a bowl full of food and you're eating a few pieces off the ground!"

It was then that the Sunday morning Word came. I heard it somewhere between my head and my heart. It was not spoken loudly, but it was spoken clearly. It came so quickly behind my words that it surprised me. The Word? "You're just like that. You have a bowl full of the abundant life in front of you and you insist on going after lesser things." The suddenness of it spoke volumes of its source. It was one of those moments which seem to knock me back a step or two.

When such Words are spoken in the inner place of our spirit, there is always a moment of decision. Sometimes I want to explain it away by declaring that it somehow originated with me. Sometimes I know from whence it came and want to ignore it. But, the only real choice, the one that calls for confession and obedience, is spoken of with the old adage, "If the shoe fits, wear it."

Stuck

When I arrived at the Blakely UMC in Blakely, Ga. for my second summer of youth ministry in that church, a new pastor was waiting. As he started his preaching ministry, it seemed that he preached only stewardship sermons. I thought it odd. He explained by telling me a story of a preacher who went to a new church and preached the very same sermon again and again and again. Finally, someone asked if he had another sermon. As the story goes the preacher said, "When you act like you have heard the first one, I will preach another!"

Recently, I have been reading the Old Testament book of Ezekiel. Actually, I should say I have been trying to read it. There are times when it seems that the Spirit directs us to certain parts of the Word and this has been one such time. My problem in reading it has not been in figuring out all the visions of this prophet. To be honest is to admit I have gotten no further than the first three verses. While I have heard some of what I sense to be the Word of Lord for my life in this passage, I still find no freedom to move on to what follows. Over and over I find myself reading these few Words with a feeling that I have not gotten it yet.

There are things about it which seem rather obvious, but I continue to be led back to it in a way that tells me there is still something more. So, I stay in place, reading and praying and waiting. Maybe I will end up discovering it is not the book of Ezekiel to which I have been led, but to those first three verses which appear to be nothing than the introduction of the prophet.

Jubal's Tribe

Bible trivia experts will have no trouble identifying Jubal. He is Jabal's brother. Genesis 4:21 also tells us that Jubal is the ancestor of all those who play the lyre and pipe. I interpret that to mean Jubal is the ancestor of all the church musicians of today who lead and enable the rest of us to worship. I have always been grateful to have members of Jubal's tribe in the churches which have been a part of my worship history. Sometimes they are paid staff and sometimes they are simply volunteers with music in their hearts. Sometimes they enhance what is happening in worship and sometimes they are its savior.

It happened where I worshipped as the musician shared a bit about her personal faith journey and then began to sing a song I had not heard in years. She sang, "O how I love him, how I adore Him. He's my breath, He's my sunshine, He's my all in all. The Great Creator became my salvation, and all God's fullness dwelleth in Him." The title of the song is "Down From His Glory." If I had been the preacher for the day, I would have had the congregation sing the chorus with her when she finished. I used to do that when I just had to sing a song I had heard!

Both her testimony and her music blessed me and everyone else present. I wonder sometimes if these musicians who grace us with their music realize the blessings imparted to us as the Spirit works through them. I am always grateful for the offerings they bring to worship. On those Sundays when I knew I bombed out as a preacher, I was extremely grateful for those who lifted us into the Father's presence with their ministry of music. Today, or yesterday morning, I was grateful for this blessing of God's presence brought into the room by this musician who did what she did not because she was paid, but because she was being faithful to God.

The Chicken Man

When I was a new graduate of one of the schools that instructs people about doing ministry, I went to work like I had been taught. Over and over we heard people telling us that we were going out into the world to be resident theologians in communities. We heard people who were supposed to know telling us we were going out to be the professional religious person in the community in the same manner that a doctor is the professional medical person or the teacher, the professional education person. I bought the package being taught and went out to my first churches with this attitude that resulted in detachment more than anything else.

I should have gone to see the Chicken Man. Actually, I did not know him back then, but I am sure he must have existed somewhere. Where I have seen him most recently is at the local Chick-fil-A. He is the first shift manager. Since it is one of our most frequented fast food joints, I have had the opportunity to watch him a lot. While I am sure he spends time behind the counter, in the kitchen, or in the office, I mostly see him out in the store taking care of people and the stuff that needs attention. During the noon rush hour, he can be seen bagging trash and taking it to the dumpster. He cleans tables, always friendly and always asking if there anything he can do. I have even caught him cleaning the bathroom. All those young college students working there may be learning how to serve food, but they also have an opportunity to see a great example of servant leadership.

A lot of clergy and lay leaders at churches should go and watch. Good leaders serve. Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, modeled servant leadership. Constantly, He put aside personal needs to care for the needs of those around Him. His servant's heart finally took Him, not the head of the table, but to the cross.

A Christmas Prayer

As I attended the Christmas Eve Communion Service at First Church, Albany, it was hard not to reflect on the difference a year can make. For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, I was not preaching a Christmas Eve sermon and serving a church family the holy sacrament. Instead I was kneeling on the outside of the rail with my wife, Lynn, on one side and my oldest grandson, Will, on the other. With hands outstretched and open, I waited for the robed one to place the sacrament in my hand. When it was all done, I listened to the table dismissal which called upon the God who never changes to be a Helper to those whose lives were filled with much transition and change. As I heard the prayer, my own heart was warmed and stirred.

Over the years there have been many times when a departing passer by at the door told me, "Preacher, what you said was just for me." It always pleased me to hear such words, but I also always knew that if it happened that way, it was more about God than the preacher. On Christmas Eve such a moment came again, but this time I would have been the one speaking them had I had the opportunity at the door.

It should not have been a surprise to experience God at work on Christmas Eve for it was the holy moment of celebrating that God is with us. Understanding it is impossible. It is as mind boggling as the theology of the Trinity. What we know, we know more by faith than anything else. Through Jesus being on earth, it has been clearly made known that God is with us. His physical sojourn on earth was brief, but now we know we are not alone. No matter where we are and regardless of the changes, God is with us. Always.