The Blessing of a Bird

With the front door open to the warm summer afternoon, it was almost impossible to carry on a conversation inside the door because of the loud boisterous crisp music being offered by a tiny Carolina Wren who was sitting and singing on the porch railing.  It seemed that the creation needed a song and this  small winged creature had been given charge of providing the music.  It was so loud I finally got up to see the songbird and, of course, as my presence filled the door, the song ended and the brown bird flitted to a nearby tree.    

There are so many moments during the course of the day when blessings are poured out upon us from surprising sources and from the smallest things of creation.  They have come recently as I have watched the deep green corn stalks soaring into the air above the rest of the garden, or as order re-appears from the passing mower, or as a neighbor's sunflowers stretch so far into the sky they seem to have become a part of it.  So many things within the creation bring blessing to us.  So many things stir our hearts to expressions of gratitude.     

The beginning story of creation speaks of how God put us in this garden known as creation.  And though many of us live as those who sense separation from the creation rather than connection to it, there are always those reminders that it is full of divine blessings for us to know along the way.  Even as the Carolina Wren brought a musical blessing to me on this summer afternoon, may the part of the creation I have been entrusted to tend provide a safe place for the songbird to praise its Creator.  

Miracles

On this upcoming Sunday twelve years ago I stood in the pulpit of the Richmond Hill United Methodist Church and preached my last sermon as an active working preacher.  A few days later on what is called moving day, I moved from the parish to the farm, from the work of the church to the work of the farm, from a life of dancing with the calendar to a life of dancing with retirement.  Twelve years may not be a long time for some, but for a guy who has moved quite a bit during the course of life, it is a long, long time.     

One of my appointments was nine years long and the next was ten, so twelve years in one place is a record that is moving toward a bigger number.  During the course of these retirement years I have learned what it means to live in a world of  miracles.  Actually, the great awareness of miracles came along the way when it suddenly dawned on me that every day has not within a miracle, but is instead full of miracles.  Every day is a day to walk into a new unfolding miracles.  

Chief among the long list of miracles experienced is the awareness that not a single one of these last twelve years has been like any other day.  No day has had the same morning serenade from the trees, no evening has had the same sunset, and every thing seen today was different yesterday and will be even more different tomorrow.  And as amazing as these miracles of creation have become, the one of holy revelation and presence is even more amazing.  Not a single day passes without some awareness of holy presence and some opportunity to hear the holy voice spoken.  If I miss these daily moments of divine grace, it speaks more of my failure to pay attention than the Creator's intent to make Himself known.  

The Untamed One

The second chapter of Acts reminds us that when the Holy Spirit acts, makes Himself known, intervenes in the space where we live out our lives,  vocabularies suddenly become inadequate.  Adjectives seem impoverished and those who would speak about Him flail away trying to hit something in the wind which is impossible to touch.  Few of us have stood in the midst of moments which we might describe as Pentecostal in nature, but even then as powerful as those times might be, they are nothing alongside of what is recorded in those holy words of Scripture.     

It is a description of chaos; yet, one of order.  It is a Word which speaks of diversity; yet unity.  It is a story of that speaks of a violent wind; but, not a destructive wind.  It is one that speaks of fire; but, not one that consumes all before it.  It is a description of different languages drawing different people together instead of something which scattered people.  In those brief words which have enabled us all to catch a glimpse of the wild and uncontrollable and all powerful Holy Spirit, we are enabled to see Who it is that is really important in the life of the church.    

And, of course, the sad truth is that the Holy Spirit Who is allowed to slip around in the shadows of church corridors is a domesticated and tame version of this One who prowled the world and broke into the Upper Room long centuries ago.  A church obsessed with planning and control has no room for the Spirit Who is revealed in the second chapter of the Acts.  When such a choice is made it is not often intentional, but regardless of how it happens, it is always one that diminishes the power of the church set in motion on the day we remember as Pentecost.  

The Second Chapter

Many churches focused on the second chapter of Acts in their worship service this morning.   For those who found themselves in a place with some other focus and who are wondering what is so special about that chapter on this day, they likely missed out on celebrating Pentecost Sunday.  The more liturgical minded churches no doubt read all the Spirit related Scripture passages, brought out the red paraments,  and heard a sermon about the beginning moment of the church.     

While it may seem to be an unimportant thing for some, there is always some value in going to place of roots.  The place where are roots are remembered is a place that helps define who we are, it is the place which holds the origins of the dreams birthed for us, and, finally, it is the place that can help us get our feet back on the path we set out to walk.  If we are of a mind to look at the spiritual roots of our church, it is imperative that we go back further than the beginning moments of our denominational movement, or further back than the division which caused us to wage a "us-them" war that resulted in pulling out of where we were to start a new church.    

A serious look at who we are as a church always requires looking at the second chapter of Acts.  There we see a picture of the divine intention.  There we see a Jesus centered spiritual community empowered by the Holy Spirit which looks not inward, but outward into the world.  The measure that we have wandered off course can be seen in the contemporary theological and cultural division which pushes those within the church away from community toward sectarianism and away from Jesus and the Spirit toward the prevailing winds of culture.  

Remembering a Mentor

I have been privileged to know a lot of Methodist preachers in my days.  When I was growing up in parsonages, they would come as visiting revival preachers.  In the years after ordination some of those preachers would come and do the same in the place where I was serving.  One of those was Bill Dupree.  I mentioned him today because I heard late in the afternoon that he had died.  As a young aspiring preacher, Bill hired me to work for him one summer as a youth worker.  It was the beginning of a mentor relationship that I treasured all the years of my ministry.     

All of us have people in our past who filled the role that Bill Dupree filled for me.  By listening to him, I learned much and by watching, I learned even more.  When we look behind us, we see folks like him.  Some may have been preachers, some may have been a neighbor down the road, or a teacher who would not give up on us.  All of the ones we remember as our mentors were folks who saw in us what we were unable to see in ourselves and were patient and persistent enough to call it out for us to see.     

And, what is also true is the fact that there are some people in our past who look to us in the same way we look toward the important influences in our past.  It is not that we set out to do fill that role in their lives, but that God in His grace worked through us in such a way as to impact the spiritual life of one young and seeking after His ways.  The one thing we never know when we start out with Jesus is how our life will touch the life of another who is on the road behind us.  And while we may think such could not possibly be true for us, it is.  Even as Bill touched my life, I have touched others, and so have we all touched those whom God has put out there on the road with us.  

The Burning Bushes

It is not always easy to speak of seeing what cannot be seen, or hearing what is not being spoken, but those who attest to such experiences stand with a long line of folks who have learned to hear with more than ears and to see with more than eyes.  We tend to think that such folks are the mystics among us and while some may fit into such a category, it is also a spiritual phenomena which describes a host of ordinary folks like each one of us.  It is not that extra ears and eyes are grown, but instead that the senses are sharpened by the discipline of paying attention to the present moment.    

It is a difficult discipline for most of us.  Getting focused and staying focused on the present moment seems impossible when we find ourselves always thinking about getting through tomorrow and tomorrow's difficulties.  What is ahead often grabs us with the force of a snapping turtle who has no intention of turning lose.  Even though we know the Word tells us,  "So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own.  Today's trouble  is enough for today,"  (Matthew 6:34)  we still find it easy to carry a load not yet come. 

Seeing, hearing, and knowing what can only be experienced through the senses of the soul requires being comfortable with ourselves, learning to be at ease minus the noise and activity, and an expectation that the God of creation is on the edge of what is not yet visible.  The presence for which we go searching requires no searching for the One whom we seek is always present in the burning bushes which are all around us.  

Three Worlds

The ancient Celtic saints believed that the place where sea and earth met was a "thin place."  A "thin place" is a place where earth and heaven, the visible and the invisible, the here and there intermingle.  In such places the presence of the others who dwell in the eternal might be sensed by those who lingered in the present moment and the places seen and known by all of us.     

Most who frequent the places where rushing water and waiting sand meet do not think of themselves as walking on the edge of two worlds, one seen and one unseen.  For those skeptics it might be a good thing to note that there is a massive sign there on the edge of sea and sand which speaks of the unseen possibilities.  Remember for a moment those times of sitting on the edge with feet in the sand and eyes mesmerized by the constantly moving water.  To be there in that moment is to be in all that is visible:  the sand, the water, the sky, the people around us, and over ours shoulder all we left behind us.  To look forward from that sandy spot is to see the moving surface of an invisible world full of life; fish, turtles, coral reefs, and an ocean full of living things.  On the edge of the seen and unseen, our feet, and perhaps, our spirit feel the presence of both.    

With such signs before us of an unseen world on the edge of the visible one, is it too long a leap to look upward from the rolling waters and sandy earth and know that there is all around that invisible world of the eternal where the saints who have gone before us linger with joy and wait with anticipation for us to join them there where the presence of God fills everything with overwhelming glory?  What a blessing it is for us to be on the edge where our senses and our spirits can look toward glory with such anticipation and joy!  Hallelujah!