Providentially Speaking

With Thanks and Praise and Hope

2011-07-27T11:45:00.001-07:00

Closing a Church before it really got started was not in my plans when I came to Florida to help organize a new congregation. The economy had things other than those we had planned in mind for our work, and now it has ended. for the past several weeks, Deanna and I have continued to meet with a very small group of people from the Providence congregation for worship on Sundays. One of the first things we talked about when we gathered in that small group was how we could continue our participation in the Interfaith Dinner Network, an effort to feed the hungry of our community two nights a week. Our church had been involved in this important ministry from it's planning phase through full implementation. We were privileged to serve the very first meal (to a whopping total of seven people) when the ministry finally began in a former school facility. By the time our church was making plans to close, the program was serving upwards of 30 people two nights a week and making plans to expand to a third night later this year. Our second Thursday night time slot had become a regular fixture on the calendars of those of us committed to this opportunity to serve. One of the things of which I am most proud as I look back over the work we did over the past three years is this ministry with people who would likely never have become part of the congregation even if it had developed. I continue to be proud that a small group of people intend to continue to serve those people supper even now that they are finding other places to worship, learn, serve, and grow. Even though the congregation we had planned will not be a part of the landscape of our community, the desire of this small group to help others will. We've served some mighty fine barbecued chicken, spaghetti and meat balls, shepherd's pie, and lots of other things, we're told. I don't know what will be on the menu for August, but I'm grateful something will. Thanks be to God!

Making Disciples

2011-06-15T07:57:00.000-07:00

Agnes, Duwon, and Zhou are three Asian students who have been in our community as exchange students this past school year. Their initial home placements in our community didn't work, and they wound up with two families in our little congregation that was trying to come into being. Agnes said she and her family are Christian, but she didn't know there were different kinds until she arrived in the states. Duwon and her family are secular Muslims (whatever that is), and Zhou says her family professes no faith. I don't know the whole story about their initial family placements. One of them changed because of illness in the host family. I'm not sure what happened with another one, but I heard enough about the remaining situation to know it had a lot to do with the host family's intention to share their faith with the student.
Sharing faith is a good thing, something we're all called to do. But some of the stories I heard crossed a line. This placement involved one of the non-Christian girls. The initial host family insisted that she attend several activities at their church, often meaning being there at least four nights a week. They took her cell phone away from her, telling her she could only talk with people they approved. Long story short, she asked to live somewhere else. One of the members of our NCD congregation is a teacher at the high school, and she and her family took two of the girls into their home. The third girl moved in with another family in our congregation, and all three of them worshiped with us.
Several of us had dinner with the girls last night to celebrate their time with us and to wish them well as head home today and tomorrow. I've been thinking about them a lot as I work with the Great Commission from Matthew's Gospel in preparation for worship this coming Sunday. I'm sure that the faith-sharing family that didn't work out well for one of the girls thought they were doing what Jesus called us all to do by insisting that she participate in their church and its programs. How many times have I as a pastor encouraged people to use the church and its programs to help them share faith with others? Jesus did tell us to make disciples. But the truth of the matter is that we can't make someone believe. What we can do is love people with the love of Christ and let that love do it work as only it can. I hope that's what we tried to do with the girls in worship. I think so because none of their host families from our congregation required them to come, but they came because they wanted to. They developed relationships with people in our little group. We serve a meal to the hungry in our community once a month as part of an ecumenical effort. All three of the girls asked if they could help, and, of course, they could. They not only served food and cleaned up and did all the other things the rest of us do, but they sat and talked with the kids who eat there, something not everyone is comfortable doing. I know our local school requires some community service as a part of the curriculum. But I also know there were lots of other places where the girls could have done that service. I was glad to be able to sign their forms to document their help with the meals.
I'm sure all three girls will have all kinds of stories to tell when they get back to their families and communities at home. I hope the stories they tell about their participation in our church are about the welcome they experienced, and the love they found among us. And I know that welcome and that love will continue to work in their lives long after their time among us is over. We'll miss the girls, but we are thankful for their presence among us.

Prayers for Yet Another Place and People I Love

2011-05-10T12:15:00.001-07:00

Just a year ago it was Nashville. Inundated by flood waters. Wondering if things would ever been the same. They're still not. Then just last month it was Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, and wherever else those storms went before they played out. Long way away from even wondering if normal will ever come again in those parts. Now it's Memphis. Threatened by the Mississippi, which has been the city's lifeblood. Downtown appears to have dodged what might have been. Out east where the Wolf River is running backwards, I'm not so sure. I went to Seminary in Memphis. Have lots of folks I care about there. Lots of places that just feel good to know they're there. So I'm praying for Memphis today. Especially for the poor there who have so much to lose and for those who will help them. They will help them because that's the kind of place Memphis is. It surely helped me when there were important things I needed to know. I invite you to join me in praying for yet another place and countless other people.

Praying for Places Dear to Us

2011-04-29T11:58:00.000-07:00

Our older son, Blake, lives in Tuscaloosa, AL. We are thankful to be able to say that after this week's storm. We have been in touch with him, and he and his friends are all safe and did not experience loss of property. Many others there, as you know, were not so fortunate. We have also been in touch with friends in the Huntsville area. They are all, so far as we know, safe, too. The area near the church we served there was damaged, but, so far as we know, the church itself was not. Not sure what they will do about worship this week, but, if know them, they will find ways to serve their community, and they will gather with whoever can to give thanks to God together. Please continue to pray for people all across the South who have lost so much. I think the most heart-wrenching thing I've heard so far was a woman on one of the news/weather broadcasts earlier today who said, through tears, "I don't know how to do this." I don't either, so I pray.

Remembering

2011-04-22T12:20:00.000-07:00

Deanna and I had a wonderfully peaceful worship experience last night on Maundy Thursday. Since we weren't having Holy Week services at Providence this year as that ministry winds down, we visited with another congregation in our Presbytery. It was a welcome change not to have to be in charge. Instead of worrying about whether I remembered whether we were saying of singing the "Holy, holy, holy..." part of the Prayer of Thanksgiving at the Table or whether I did the epiclesis at the right time, I could sit and let the liturgy wash over me and do the work it was designed to do. It did. Just before we were invited to the Table, the choir sang "In Remembrance" from CELEBRATE LIFE. I know. Everyone has sung it to death over the years, but it is still a wonderful way to prepare for the Sacrament. As I sat and listened, I remembered all the flap that music like CELEBRATE LIFE and SUPERSTAR, and all the others from that era had caused. People I remember from church life then (but who will remain nameless because some of them are still around) pitched more than one fit when that music became popular among young people in the '60's and '70's. Some of them were the same ones who had pitched other fits when the GOOD NEWS BIBLE appeared a few years earlier. Something about stick figure illustrations and the language of common speech just didn't sit right with some of those folks who thought they were protecting God from all of us. As I sat and listened to the choir sing, I remembered all that conflict from forty years ago, and it all seems so tame now. I tried to remember when that's all we had to worry about: people, young and otherwise, who were so hungry to hear the Gospel that they found ways to hear it in their own contexts. I still have a GOOD NEWS BIBLE somewhere, but I don't read it in the pulpit or even in my own study very often. I still have a score for CELEBRATE LIFE, but last night is the first time I remember hearing any of it sung in a long time. I think I have an old VHS tape of SUPERSTAR SOMEWHERE, but nothing to play it on anymore. What I remember, though, is how all those things and others spoke to so many and kept us faithful when we could easily have wandered off where others went. All that conflict seems so tame in comparison to the issues that divide us these days. It's not just old against young anymore. It seems to be everybody against everybody else. I'd like to think that some of the people we're all knotted up about these days still desperately want to hear some Good News and will continue to state their case until we let them. But I've known too many who have given up on hearing much from us at all, deciding that we're much more concerned with our own internal squabbles than we'll ever be about their well-being.
On this Good Friday afternoon and tomorrow when there is time for even God to be quiet for a while, I'm remembering. "In remembrance of me, eat this bread. In remembrance of me, drink this wine. In remembrance of me, pray for the time when God's own will is done....In remembrance of me, search for truth. In remembrance of me, always love."
What people tried to dismiss as a bunch of youth ministry stuff sounds like a call to action after all these years. Wonder when we'll ever listen?

An Elder Three Times

2011-03-14T12:33:00.001-07:00

I was ordained an elder (what we used to call and, it appears, may be calling again, a ruling elder in 1983, I think. I learned a lot about my faith, the Church, and people during the years I spent as a Session member. Most importantly, I learned that service as a ruling elder was a lot more about serving that it was about ruling. I became a candidate for ministry and left that position about the time that congregation began a search for a new pastor. Some chuckled when they said candidacy was a lot to undertake to avoid being on a search committee.
I was ordained a teaching elder or Minister of Word and Sacrament in 1988 after finishing Seminary. I learned a lot more than I expected to about a lot more things than I even knew existed during my preparation for that ordination. My service as this kind of elder continues to be one of the most challenging and rewarding things I have ever done. Right now, it's a little confusing as I try to sort our where God is calling me to serve next, but I know and believe that this role is all about service, and that's as it should be.
I became another kind of elder last week. Some of you know my mom died last summer. My dad died last week. Neither of their deaths was altogether unexpected, but we didn't expect either of them when they happened. From a place too close to reflect much, the most identifiable feeling I have experienced so far has to do with the strange reality that my sister and I are now the elders of our tribe. There are two or three (nobody's quite sure about one of them) aunts remaining on my dad's side and one aunt on my mom's. But for our immediate family, my sister and I are now the elders. Both of us have two kids whom we love dearly, and they know it. But the line back from us stops with us. It's a weird feeling. I'm hoping that this way to be an elder is about service, too, that we can do and be things that will be helpful to others, especially to our kids, and, someday, to theirs.

Strangers Bearing Gifts

2011-01-10T12:20:00.001-08:00

I'm behind the lectionary for a while this winter since I wanted to preach the texts for the Sunday after Christmas on January 2 and that meant either skipping Epiphany or doing it after the fact. We did it on January 9. As I've continued to think about those strange visitors from the East who came to the infant Jesus, we had a couple of gifts from strangers ourselves. On the first Sunday of the New Year (which happened the day after New Year's Day this year. You can imagine what that did for attendance!), visitors were not hard to spot in our congregation. A couple I had never seen before pulled into the parking lot early, while some of us were still setting things up. They sat and waited for a while, and when the few others who came that day began to show up, they got out and came in. They had a cloth tote with them. I'm not usually skittish about such things, but I did wonder what they were doing since I doubted they knew we collect canned and boxed food for a local pantry along with our offering every week. Once they were inside, we discovered them to be very sociable people, talking and visiting with me and with others as though they had known us forever. Then out of that tote they pulled a big assortment of Christmas candy. "Can you find someone to give this to?" they inquired. People mean well when they give us all this, but we really don't need it. It turns out they were from Pennsylvania and were on their way further south in Florida where they intend to spend the rest of the winter. Several of our folks took portions of that candy home, whether we needed it or not, mostly because these who had been strangers had brought it as a gift. I don't know anything about those folks' church history or practice, but they had learned a lot about hospitality somewhere. That Sunday was a Communion Sunday for us. Our guests opted not to participate, which is fine, but I'll admit that I had to wonder what kind of a church background might have helped them become so outgoing, friendly, and generous, but still prevent them from receiving a gift we could have shared with them. Hopefully we were able to share the Gospel with them. Maybe that's gift enough. Add that to the long list of things I'll keep thinking about.
On another Sunday a week or two before Christmas, three beautiful poinsettias were waiting outside our worship space when I arrived before others came. No card. No sign of where they may have come from. They added a festive note to our worship space on that Sunday, on Christmas Eve and on the Sundays after Christmas. No one had any idea where they had come from. We put a note in the bulletin to say the flowers were from friends. Another couple who had visited with us before Christmas promised they would return when they got back from being with their family during the holidays. Yesterday, there they were, happy to be back home, and seemingly happy to be in worship with us. As we greeted and got reacquainted, they asked if we had enjoyed the poinsettias! They had them at home and didn't want them not to be enjoyed while they were away, so they dropped them off outside our door on their way out of town. I was preaching yesterday on Paul's mystery revealed in Ephesians. The Christmas flower mystery got solved, too. And we met some great new friends.
There's something about strangers bearing gifts. Maybe we all need to try to be those strangers more often.

What We Want; What We Need

2010-12-14T07:29:00.001-08:00

I overhead an interesting conversation while out among the Christmas shoppers the other day. A couple of friends were talking about how difficult they were finding it to decide on a gift for a mutual friend. "I just don't know what to do!" one of them said. "She refuses to give us a list of things she wants." "I've about decided to give her a gift card and forget about it," the other one replied. I know that sometimes having a list or suggestion makes gift giving easier, but there is still something to be said for giving gifts we've picked because we know they're something the receiver will like. I also know that's a lot of trouble and can take a lot of time. My late mom was the world's best (or worst, depending on your perspective) at providing Christmas lists. Every year, right after Thanksgiving, my sister and I would get the same list of things our mom wanted. The list usually included at least two things that were not available. One year it was a bottle of perfume that hadn't been made in ten years. Her note said we could find it at a flea market if we looked hard enough. For several years it was whatever the most sought-after and not to be had kids' gift was that year: Tickle Me Elmo one year; Holiday Barbie another. No, I don't have any idea what she planned to do with Elmo or Barbie. We knew what the intent of the list was. It was not intended to be a suggestion. It was all the things she wanted, and our job was to divide it up and provide the goods. She never got either Elmo or Barbie, and we didn't knock ourselves out looking for well-aged perfume. I'm sure those experiences are part of the reason that Christmas lists still leave a sour taste in my mouth. I don't always get it right when I buy gifts, but I don't miss it often.

Overhearing that conversation and thinking about the things I still need to get bought helped me to think about another giver. As long as there have been people, we have been pretty good at telling God what we want. Our ancestors wanted freedom from bondage in Egypt until they discovered it meant living in the wilderness for a time. Another generation longed for home during the Exile and wondered why God didn't respond more quickly. We've all gotten pretty good at following their lead in telling God what we want. I'm thankful that when God decided to send Jesus into the world to accomplish salvation it wasn't because that's what we wanted, but because it was and is what we need. I'm even more thankful that God bothered to know us well enough to know our needs. I hope all of us get something we want this Christmas. I know that in Jesus Christ, we have access to what we need.

First Loves

2010-10-21T07:53:00.001-07:00

I heard part of one segment of what appeared to be a longer series on NPR not long ago. The series invited classical musicians to think back to that first piece of music they learned that grabbed hold of them and helped them to see that making music would be their life. I think the guy I heard that day was a violinist--someone I had never heard of and someone who can certainly do things I can't. I think the piece he remembered was Mendelssohn. He spoke with genuine affection about how learning to play that piece had changed his life. As I drove wherever I was going that afternoon (The car is my NPR place.) I thought about several pieces of music and the people who brought me to them that have been especially formative for me. Not a professional musician by any stretch, I've still been helped in many ways by singing and listening.

As I thought about that for a while, I began to broaden my thinking to other things that help to form me, and, surprise, surprise, my mind drifted to Scripture. I thought about what a series of interviews like the one I heard about the formative influence of music might sound like if it asked people to think about a text or story from Scripture that has been foundational in the development of their faith. So let's let this conversation place open that discussion. What are some texts or stories from the Bible that you remember from any stage of life or faith that have helped you to decide, "This is who I am. This is what I believe?"

I'll start: some who know me know what's coming. The opening verses of Isaiah 43 have God say, "Don't be afraid. I have redeemed you. I have called you by your name. You are mine." Long story. My only regret when I hear the affirmation, promise, and challenge in these words is that it took me so long to find them. In most of my growing up years, the Bible was more threat than promise, more accusation than affirmation. Finding this text, "You are mine," opened a whole new way to understand God for me. Now I try to start every day with it in some form: read, remembered, sung, or spoken.

So what made faith possible for you?

Sometimes the Reasons Matter

2010-09-09T11:07:00.001-07:00

I live close enough to Gainesville, Florida to have heard more than enough about the Dove World Outreach Center and its plans to burn the Qur'an on Saturday, September 11. We've been hearing about it for weeks. At first, I didn't pay much attention, since somebody's always doing something wacky in Florida. As the date has drawn closer, though, and the media attention (that's another whole issue)has ramped up, it seems that everybody has had something to say about this stunt. At the outset let me say that what the Dove folks are planning is wrong. It's not just insensitive or uncaring; it's wrong. It's wrong primarily because it is not in linen with foundational teachings of Jesus Christ, who came to show us the best example of what human life can be. This week we're being told that the planned burning of the Qur'an is wrong because it endangers American and other troops. I'm sure that's true, and I'm as opposed as anybody to anything that endangers military personnel more than they already are just by being there. But the primary reason this is wrong is not a matter of national security. The primary reason this is wrong is that it does not demonstrate the love of Jesus Christ, who came to bring peace and to bring people to an awareness of God's gracious love. If we are going to call ourselves Christians, then we must constantly evaluate our own lives and the witness they bear to the faith we claim. I do that every day, and encourage others to. I rarely have difficulty finding areas in my own life and witness that need attention. When I'm through with all those areas, maybe I'll think about telling someone else how to live. But I don't expect to be done with my own spiritual formation for a while. I doubt that anything I or anyone else can say will deter the people in Gainesville who think they are responding to a call from God. The primary call I hear from God is to love others with the love of Christ, and to trust that love to do the work God sent it into the world (even through me) to do. I know that radical Islam is a dangerous force in the world. I also know that radical Christianity is just as dangerous. God, help us.

If it's True

2010-09-09T08:13:00.000-07:00

As some of you know, my mom died earlier this summer. She was a difficult person. I did the simple graveside service. It was nowhere near the spectacle she would like for it to have been. It was nowhere near the event most of our family had anticipated. I hope it was faithful. In that service, which was mercifully brief since it was 105 degrees that day, we talked about the assurance that God loves us and wants us to know peace and contentment. My mom never knew much of either of those, and it was mostly of her own choosing. What I tried to share in the service was that it really is the truth that God loves us and wants good for us. If we never find it in this life, as she rarely did (and she is not alone)I cling to the assurance that the way things do in eternity is not up to us, that God will be in charge, and we will know life as we could have known it in this life if we had paid more attention to God's way than we had to ours. Here's part of what I said in the cemetery: "...if what God really does want for us is for us to be happy and to enjoy life as long as it lasts, then where she is now, in the everlasting presence of God, that's all that matters. And God's in charge of that place, and God can find a way to help her experience the happiness and the joy that she was rarely able to find in the past seventy-seven years." I believe that.
Most of my family who gathered there that afternoon are pretty life-weary people. They have all had their share of adversity. One of my cousins came to me as we were leaving the cemetery that day. She, herself, has buried a child and a brother, and suffered more failed marriages than I remember. I haven't had any of those things happen so far. It's what she said, though, that I remember. She said, "I really appreciate what you said today. I just wish there were some way we could know it's the truth. It would make all this a little easier, wouldn't it."
I've thought about her comments a lot since that day. What I said to her was that I believe what I said was true. I have to. But I can't prove its truth to her or to anybody else. Believing that God loves us and wants us to know peace is the foundation of everything else I believe. If that's not true, I'm up the creek. We all are.
I haven't seen that cousin since that day in the cemetery. Probably won't for a while. The fact that she was listening enough to say what she did give me hope for people who do what I do, even (maybe especially) when we do it among those who know us best--or think they do.

What I Did This Summer

2010-08-26T08:24:00.000-07:00

Some of us who are old enough to remember when going to school was about something other than taking tests can remember that first writing assignment of the year--What I Did This Summer. I'm not sure whether our teachers ever really used those things to assess our writing abilities or if it was just habit, but I thought about those essays as I saw the school buses pass this week. I also remembered that it had been all summer since I had updated this blog. So here's what I did this summer.
Our summer began with hosting Hal and Martha Hopson for a church music event. Like most people who sing in church, I had sung his stuff for years. His nephew is a friend of mine in Huntsville, but there is still something a bit daunting about working directly with a composer so well known. All of that went out the window when I picked them up at the airport. Two of the most delightful people I have ever met. I am happy to count them both as new friends and look forward to staying in touch with them. They told me about an organization for worship and liturgy that I didn't know, so hopefully we will connect there sometime in the not too distant future.
The end of June took us to the Music and Worship Conference at Montreat in North Carolina, which has become a highlight of our summer. The choir director was demanding but excellent this year. All of my workshops were helpful and well done. The only bad thing about Music and Worship week at Montreat is that it's just a week. The bookstore always drains my bank account, but it's good to be able to browse and handle books instead of getting them from Amazon, which I usually do.
The last day, literally after the last event, we received news of my mom's unexpected death. That meant returning to Florida to preach on Sunday and get a new round of clothes (Burying your mom in shorts and a t-shirt doesn't even work in my family, although one of my cousins' children did show up in hot pants!) and then going to Kentucky to make arrangements and begin to sort through her affairs. They are a mess, but my sister and I are working through them. Some of you know that affectionately referred to our mom as Her Majesty. She was a difficult woman, so her death has brought all kinds of emotions, but mostly frustration. I was there again last week to dispose of stuff and begin the process of selling her house. There is more drama involved than needs to be told here. If I ever write that book I've been promising or threatening for years, it might all get told. Maybe not.
Kyle got to go spend a few days with his brother in Chicago in July. They went to Wrigley while they were together. If you're a Cubbie, you know it's been mostly downhill since then.
We did manage to steal a few days to visit Charleston with friends from Alabama in August. Beautiful city. We hope to go back and see some of what we missed.
We celebrated our 36th wedding anniversary, Deanna had a birthday, and so did Kyle in the midst of it all.
We are excited about our involvement in an effort to feed the hungry in our community that is finally going to happen in September after more than year of planning and delays. I'm also helping a leader development event happen in our Presbytery this weekend. Great team of folks have done most of the work.
It's hard to believe that Labor Day is around the corner, but, of course, at our house that means ROLL, TIDE--it's time for 'Bama football. We'll keep an eye on what our Cats in Kentucky do this fall, too, but we'll be mostly Tide boosters this fall before we turn our attention toward Lexington when basketball season starts.
I guess if I've already conceded the World Series again this year, am counting Tide wins before they happen, and am already looking forward to basketball, summer is about shot. Hopefully, I'll have a bit more time to keep this thing something like current. Hope your summer has been more restful than mine, and that your fall is faithful, fun, and productive.

Graduation Speeches

2010-06-10T07:28:00.000-07:00

I'll warn you: this one will not set well with some, so you have a delete button for a reason.

Graduation season is about over. I didn't attend any of those ceremonies this year. Sent a couple of out-of-town gifts, but was mercifully spared the exercises. I did, however, read the predictable stories in at least a couple of papers about kids who were making what they considered to be bold stands by including prayer or some overtly Christian statements in their public school commencement speeches. The issues which bring these stories before us are far more complicated than most people realize and cannot be dissected in sound bytes or easy formulas. The whole concept of taking God out of school and public life makes little sense to me since omnipresence continues to be one of the primary attributes of God. I think that what people usually mean when they use that kind of language is that their particular understanding of God is the one that matters. If I remember the various graduation exercises I've attended accurately, paying attention to anything but the name we're waiting to hear called doesn't happen much. If we're band or choir supporters, we might be interested in their contributions to the festivities, but most of the speeches and comments are usually pretty un-memorable. I've never figured out, then, why it's such a big deal to include references to God or Jesus in a speech not many are paying attention to anyway. Doesn't that happen often enough in church? I doubt that very many can look back on a graduation speech and say, "There. That's when I first became a believer!"
So I wonder when all of us who talk a lot about our faith, preachers and non-preachers alike, will think about how effective our speech might be if we talked less about Jesus and talked more like him. What might a faithful student embarking on a new phase of life have to say to peers and community if that student talked from the perspective of one whose life had been transformed from following the culture in which he had been nurtured to responding to God's call to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God? What might that student and others of us have to say if we focused less on what we can't do or say and more on what God is empowering us to do and say by making us new creation.
I suspect that next year's graduation stories in the press will have another story or two about students who think they're effective witnesses by being controversial. I can't think ahead to anyone graduating who will expect me to attend commencement. On most of the fifty-two Sundays between now and then, though, I will be in the pulpit, where there's not a lot of control over what I can and can't say. I think I'll try to talk more like Jesus than about him on those Sundays. I'll let you know how it works out.

On Preachers and Preaching

2010-06-10T07:23:00.000-07:00

I recently had the privilege of attending the Festival of Homiletics (a week of sermons, lectures, and other things related to preaching) in Nashville. I know. I know. Three sermons and a lecture or two a day and some other conversations in the evenings don't sound like fun to most people. So grant me that preachers are a weird lot to begin with. I heard some wonderful preaching that week. I heard lots of helpful things about how to preach in the midst of a culture that doesn't much care for it. I'll be thinking about some of the things I heard for a long time. I picked up some books (surprise, surprise) to help me with that thinking. They'll be a big part of my summer reading schedule.
Then I came home and heard a tale about a preacher from some friends that made me want to run back to that artificial world we lived in for a week instead of living out here in the real world that hadn't been to Nashville with me.
This guy preaches a much more expository style than I do. That means he usually has a lot more definitive answers in his preaching (and in his life, apparently) than I have or want. Worship in his church is all about the sermon. The bulletin doesn't have much in it that helps people know what to do or say because they aren't supposed to do or say much while they're there. They're supposed to listen to him. There is even a place in the bulletin for people to take notes. Really, it more like a programmed instruction text: When I say this, you write it down so you'll know the answers. Now he's apparently decided that not enough people are playing by his rules so he's instructed the other staff members (One version of the story says the male staff members. I'm not sure.) to sit down front in visible locations, act interested, and visibly take notes so that others in the congregation will follow their lead. (If that’s not a direct quote, it doesn't miss it by much!).
Wondering whether or not people are listening is always an issue for preachers. Wondering if they're paying attention, even if they're listening, is another issue. Sometimes I can tell when I'm not connecting. Sometimes I can even tell when it's because the sermon just isn't working or when it's because they're just not with me. But I can't imagine ever getting to the point that I'd have to instruct people to act interested.
Sometimes the loads people bring to worship with them are just too heavy to let them listen much. I contend that something can still happen that is helpful to them just because they're there. I have also helped to rear two people who are now young adults, so I know all too well that sometimes people are listening when I can't see it happening. And that sometimes they're not listening even if it appears that they are. I know that everyone in worship every week is not hanging on my every word. But I also know that just being among God's people can create an environment in which we can experience things we're not expecting. Telling a child to sit still and pay attention is one thing--whether they ever do or not--but telling adults to act interested is just too much. I work hard at crafting sermons that invite people into the process of communicating with God along with me. Sometimes they work, and sometimes they don't. I think I'll continue to invite rather than command people to participate. Taking notes is optional.

Pray for Nashville

2010-05-06T11:36:00.000-07:00

Those of you who grew up outside the South (You define it wherever you think it is; some of us know!) may not understand how devastating the flood damage in Nashville is to those of us who love that city. Though it is not my favorite category of music these days, I grew up in an environment in which Nashville music and church music were the only two kinds I knew there were--and sometimes they overlapped! Some of my best friends live in Nashville. Maybe it's the self-serving side of me that all of us eventually have to admit we have, but the images of people I don't know trying to find anything worth saving from flooded homes in Bellevue and downtown and other parts of Nashville are heartbreaking. I continue to care about the people of Haiti who also lost everything and the people of New Orleans, some of whom will never recover. But, even though I've never lived there, Nashville is one of my places, where people I know and love are struggling. I know it makes me sound like a bumpkin, but to see the Grand Ole Opry stage under water is a big deal. I never forgave Gaylord Entertainment for closing Opryland and opening a shopping mall, but I wouldn't have wished this flood on them. I know that the Opryland Hotel has hosted more than its share of redneck receptions, but it was a beautiful place just to walk around. To see all that underwater, and to think about the people who worked there being out of work for most of the summer is a big deal. There is a part of me that wants to run up there and bail water out of somebody's house, probably that same part that wanted to do the same thing in Haiti not long ago. I'll be in Nashville in a couple of weeks for a preaching conference. That group is already encouraging us to do what we can to help while we're there. I'm not sure what I'll be able to do, but I invite you to join me in praying for those who have lost so much and for those who are trying to help them. Some of those who are helping have lost things too. Pray for Nashville and for Clarksville, and for everywhere else where people are hurting. Pray for the beautiful Gulf Coast as people there confront their worst fears. Pray, and trust that God is at work in all kinds of ways in those places and everywhere. I don't know what else to do. Paul reminds me that I don't even always know how to pray as I ought. I know it's selfish to pray for the people I know. But I'm doing it anyway.

Wal-Mart Trumps Us Again!

2010-03-24T12:56:00.000-07:00

The Wal-Mart store closest to us is being remodeled. We ran in last night, and just inside the door is a huge banner telling us that Easter is just around the corner. Hanging off that Easter announcement was a sign intended to say something about the ongoing renovation of the store. What it says, though (right under the news that Easter is coming) is "The Wow is coming very soon!"
I'm pretty sure I don't want to reduce the Easter message to "the Wow," but I do wish there were some way to communicate the Good News we have as well as Wal-Mart communicates theirs.

Even a Calvinist Gets a Day Off When the Queen is in Town!

2010-03-23T08:26:00.000-07:00

I've tried to be faithful to my commitments during Lent this year. I'm chipping away at the books and articles I said I'd read. I've tried to work even harder than usual to preach faithfully and creatively during this important season. I've prayed more faithfully and more specifically than I have in a long time. I know that the Lenten season and all the benefits it brings are good for me.
But last Friday night, I took the night off. At Christmas, Deanna and Kyle had given me tickets to see Aretha Franklin at the St. Augustine Amphitheater. At Christmas, that date seemed so far away. The winter in Florida has been unusually dreary and dank this year. But on Friday night, the Queen was in town, and none of that mattered. We don't do concerts much. The frugal Calvinist in us just won't let us spend money on things like that every often, but this time it was Aretha!
We heard all the things we expected to hear--"Chain of Fools," "Think," "Pink Cadillac," and an encore performance of "Respect" that was worth the wait. We also heard a couple of things from her new CD which were great. The best part of the night, though, was when she stopped singing a lighter piece and said she was going to change the program a bit. She went to the piano and sat down to play "Bridge Over Troubled Water," an anthem for any of us children of the '60's. What a joy!
I'm back to my hard core discipleship efforts now. Working hard to make Palm Sunday a meaningful time for our congregation. But in a very real way, I went to church on Friday night. Did my soul good. And I'm thankful.

As If Inadequacy Isn't Already Enough of a Problem....

2010-01-19T11:54:00.000-08:00

Like most people who do what I do (pastor a church), I've just come through that time when we look back at the record we wrote for last year. I'm a new church pastor, so the numbers are never good enough, but I was feeling pretty good about the numbers we discussed in a meeting last night. We added 19 new members (even though a new church at this stage of development doesn't really have members). We only had 5 people decide that what we're doing isn't for them and move on. So our net result was a good one. Giving numbers were also good. We came closer than I had thought we would to meeting our budget for 2009, even in the midst of all the economic downturn that we've all heard enough about. That give us hope as we project even bigger goals for 2010. Nobody died last year. We baptized two new babies. Had one profession of faith (not bad for Presbyterians, I guess.) Participation in programs was good. People met to study, to serve, to worship. Overall, I was feeling better than I had hoped to feel now that the new year is well underway.
Then today I opened a book I've been reading and rereading in spurts for a while. It's a book of advice from seasoned preachers and teachers to all the rest of us. I won't cite the specific author or essay, but at one point a writer encourages us to look realistically at our ministries. As he looks at his, he comments on how the location of his church building has helped them grow and do many things. When he lists down sides of his work, the first thing he mentions is that the sanctuary in which he preaches only holds 1200 people at a time, so they have to have five worship services on Sundays.
As if inadequacy isn't already enough of a problem for those of us who serve in the church..... I'm trying to convince myself that growing attendance and participation numbers are still something to feel good about. I'm not sure about preaching five times on Sunday is even something I want to do.
When talking about the trials and struggles of life, I have a friend who tries to be positive when she says, "It's not much of a hill for a climber." I'm trying to find the place to grab onto to continue the climb.

A Promise for Christmas

2009-12-17T11:58:00.001-08:00

Jaroslav Vajda is not a familiar name for many of us. Vajda died last year, I think, but not before he wrote some of the best hymn texts I know. "God of the Sparrow" is probably the Vajda hymn most people know. "Go, My Children, With My Blessing" is another one of which I never tire. One of his Christmas hymns reminds me of a promise that gives this season meaning and buoys me up with hope. The hymn is called "Where Shepherds Lately Knelt." The first stanza reads:

Where shepherds lately knelt and kept the angel's word
I come in half belief, a pilgrim strangely stirred.
But there is room and welcome there for me.
But there is room and welcome there for me.

The Christmas story is so familiar to most of us that we don't think nearly enough about it. If we do pause to think about the mystery of incarnation, we are bound to find things that stretch our ability to believe. Virgin birth? God in human form? One child who will change the world? All this has something to do with my life today? You can add your own questions to these that pop in to my mind.

I'm grateful that we don't have to be overly careful about what we ask God, at Christmas or any other time. If half-belief and strange stirrings are all we bring, bring them to God, who will not turn us away, but will invite us into a relationship that will provide opportunities for questioning and for growing.

There is room and welcome there for me. Thanks be to God.

My Friend

2009-12-02T13:51:00.000-08:00

Dealing with loss is something I do fairly often in my work as a minister. I recently looked back at the log book I keep of my pastoral work over the years, and had to sit and reflect a while when I saw how many funerals I have preached or assisted with over the past several years. Most of those were for church members, and most of those died after an illness which had involved me in some way or another. All of those losses were significant, to me and to the families of the ones who died. Last week, though, Deanna and I traveled to Columbus, Mississippi just before Thanksgiving to participate in the funeral of a very good friend. Gay Mims was a bivocational (educator and pastor) pastor in Columbus for many years, and he was my friend. Gay and I worked together in several areas, and in recent years, he had invited me to preach and teach in his church on several special occasions. Being with the good folks at Brooksville and Mt. Zion and spending time with Gay and Martha Jo are some of my greatest gifts. I was honored when Martha Jo wanted me to participate in his funeral. I know we kept folks there way, way too long that day, but all those preachers gathered there to bury one who had meant so much to us and who had taught us all so much took time! Gay's funeral was in the fellowship hall at Mt. Zion, a facility he had dreamed into being and which will stand in that community as a testament to his determination to serve his community. He was one of the finest people I have ever known. I still have much to learn from him. I miss him, but I am happy to have been able to have been a part of the celebration of his life and witness. This world is diminished by his physical absence, but he gave so much of himself to many of us while he was he that he will live on in ways he never imagined. I miss him. He was my friend.

One of My Favorite Things to Do

2009-10-12T13:50:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was a day of celebration for us at Providence. We celebrated the baptism of Madeline Flick, daughter of Brian and Ashley and granddaughter of Ron and Lisa Flick and Mike and Renee' Williams. Here's a picture when she was still happy:

And another one when she wasn't quite so sure about what was going on:
We live near the Atlantic Ocean, so we decided to involve the whole congregation in the celebration of this Sacrament. I went to the beach and rounded up shells and filled a bowl with water. During a hymn before the baptism, I invited everyone to come, take a shell, and transfer water into the font. That way everybody had a hand in preparing the font for the celebration. It looked like this:
Oh, yeah! The choir sang a special song about new life, too:

God is good!

Oliver's Not the Only One Who Wants More!

2009-10-09T07:38:00.000-07:00

We have a small pond on the edge of the complex we share with a Karate School and a Dance Center. The pond draws wildlife of various sorts. I'm sure there are snakes there sometimes, but I haven't encountered them yet. We get a turtle once in a while. A couple of graceful egrets come by often, and so do some loud and pesky black birds. Those blackbirds make their presence known so loudly that sometimes it sounds as if they're in here with me. Out near the pond is where I usually dispose of the leftover bread after Communion. I scatter it on the ground and, of course, it doesn't take long for it to be gone. This morning, I was sitting here in the quiet working and heard a chorus of blackbird song that really did sound like it was right outside my inside door. When I got up to go look there were three of the biggest blackbirds I have ever seen on the sidewalk outside our front door making an awful noise. I'm not sure they're the ones who scarfed up last Sunday's leftover communion bread, but they very likely were. I couldn't help but wonder if they were out there asking for more of that bread. They reminded me of a youngster I heard about in another church who went to communion and heard the celebrant say, "This is the body of Christ, for you." and "This is the cup of salvation, for you." When he had taken the Sacrament, instead of going back to his seat, he got back in line and told someone near him, "I think I want some more of that salvation!"
Now, if only we could find people who were more like hungry black birds and honest little boys--not afraid to say, "I want more of what God and the Church offer!"

No Apology Required

2009-09-30T11:40:00.000-07:00

As a new church pastor, I get to have lots of fun doing Bible study with people who haven't done it all their lives. We're doing a study of Paul's letter to the Romans this fall, and several participants are new to the process. I'm always amused when people feel the need to apologize when they begin a new thing like that. I've tried to assure them that an apology is not at all required. Most of my experience with Bible study in established congregations has amounted to people swapping the same understandings they've always had and expect everyone else to have too. While we are fortunate to have some folks in our new congregation here with solid and mature understandings of Scripture, we are also fortunate to have folks without those gifts who want to know more about what the Bible says and how it says it. Our study is enriched by both groups. It's fun to see people who had decided they couldn't understand Scripture make meaningful contributions that help all of us understand more about what God has to say to us and how Scripture helps say it. It's especially fun when people new to the process have no reservations about asking questions or for clarification. We may not always (or ever) agree as a group, but we surely do learn from one another!

The Real Issue is Language

2009-09-02T12:27:00.000-07:00

I read somewhere this week that a popular version of Scripture is going through another revision. It seems the NIV is going to tackle contemporary and inclusive language again. As soon as that announcement was made, the critics started lining up, claiming it was all an effort to be politically correct instead of textually sound and vowing to thwart the process. I'm as interested in textual accuracy in Scripture as anybody. I spent as much time in Scripture as most pastors do, and, even though the NIV is not my preferred translation, I know it is the one many people, including members of my own congregation, use. So I agree that it is important to preserve the purest form of the text we can render. But a real issue in rendering texts in English is one no one ever talks about--a fundamental shortcoming of our language lies in the way we deal with gender. I grew up and learned grammar in the day when the masculine gender for pronouns was always the one we used when we didn't know the gender or when we were referring to both. Those days are gone, and they're not coming back. The problem is that English pronouns are gender-based. I fail to see what harm gets done when we render what everyone used to agree was intended to men both men and women in a way that doesn't alienate some. I know that Scripture comes from cultures that were much less gender-inclusive than ours. But I also know that our goal as sharers of faith is to share faith with real people who live today, not people who lived hundreds or thousands of years ago. So if we can say brothers and sisters, when the text just really says something masculine, who gets hurt? The pronouns cause another whole set of problems, but there are ways around those issues, too, if we think about them. I rant all the time about language not being important enough to the communication process anymore, but I don't mean that language or even text is a god we ought to worship. Language is a tool to help us to communicate God's gracious inclination toward us. Some who know me will be surprised that I know anything about tools. (I'm reminded of Ryne Mantooth, a VBS participant twenty years ago who asked his mom who I was trying to kid when he saw me coming up the hall with the janitor's toolbox after VBS one day!) The first electric drill I ever owned had an orange cord dangling off it. It couldn't do half as much as the ones I see in Lowe's these days. Tools have a way of changing and adapting to serve the purpose for which they exist. If language is a tool, why can't we let it do the same thing? Whatever we can do to make the promises of Scripture more accessible to everyone is a good thing, right?
I won't be sitting in any of the editorial meetings that produce whatever the new NIV turns out to be. I hope those who will be will remember how important their work is and not be deterred by folks who have another whole agenda.

Twenty Five Years Ago Today

2009-08-17T06:40:00.000-07:00

Today's a special day at our house. Kyle, our younger son, turns 25 today. Like most parents, I guess, I remember twenty-five years ago today in minute detail. Neither of our boys made coming into the world easy. Kyle's entrance was particularly troublesome. His brother, Blake, was six and had had his own problems getting here. We had lost a child between the two of them and thought we had lost Kyle a couple of times before he finally got here. As he arrival came closer, Deanna was in and out of the hospital a couple of times. On the third trip, we finally convinced her doctor to go get him instead of sending us home again. After several tests and lots of wide-eyed wonder, the doctor finally schedule a C-section, and off to surgery we went. I remember that "Ghostbusters" was playing on the OR's sound system and that the doctor sang along as he did the Section. I remember the Pakistani anesthesiologist who kept telling Deanna, "If you have pain, I have drugs!" We convinced her when she came by to visit a day or two later that that probably wasn't something she wanted to say outside the OR. I remember that Kyle was black from anoxia when the doctor lifted him out. About that time, I remember asking that anesthesiologist if she had any drugs for me. (She had already put Deanna under.) She didn't. So I remember watching that little boy pink up when the nurse held the oxygen mask over his face and then turn gray again when she pulled it away. I remember the days when I tried to be three places at once: in the nursery with that gray and pink little boy, in Deanna's room with her (convincing her that he was OK because she couldn't go see him), and at home with Blake (convincing him that no, we were not going to name his new brother Jabba the Hut). I am grateful for a good friend who came that weekend to reassure Deanna in ways no one else could. By the end of the day twenty five years ago today, we knew we had some rough times ahead.
We have friends in Arkansas going through the same experience with their newborn this week. We've tried to reassure them without scaring them to death--we know they can do that for themselves.
Obviously, our story had a good outcome. At twenty five, Kyle is healthy, active, and a joy to share life with. Sure, there's still school to finish, a career to choose, relationships to figure out, and all the other things that lie ahead. But just as surely as God was with us twenty-five years ago today (and would have been regardless of how that day turned out) God is in the midst of our joy as we celebrate a quarter century of life with Kyle. Happy Birthday, son. I love you.

The Yacht Club?

2009-08-07T10:43:00.000-07:00

This post is primarily for friends who think we've moved off to Florida and become something different than we were before. We have a new weekly newspaper for the Yulee community (the area between the Island and the interstate where our church is). I'm writing a column for it. The first issue appeared today. My article is in there. I don't think it's online yet--that's coming--or I'd figure out how to link to it. The big feature article in this first issue, though, is not mine, but a story about a Yacht Club. The Redneck Yacht Club is a bar between our area and Jacksonville that is caught up in a conflict about when they can start selling liquor on Sundays. Yes, I said the Redneck Yacht Club. No I have not been there. Even Kyle and his friends are afraid to go.
So for all my friends in Alabama, Tennessee, Mississippi, and Kentucky: rest assured we haven't progressed very far up the social ladder. We're still near the beach, though. Eat your hearts out!
I'm not sure what I'll write for next week's paper. I'll let you know.

Summer Series

2009-07-14T13:24:00.001-07:00

I've never done much series preaching until this summer. I usually follow the lectionary and have always been amazed at how it fits the life and work of the church--a testament to those who work so hard to plan it. This summer, though, I decided to try something different. I asked folks at the new church I serve to submit questions about the church, its ministry, their faith, pretty much whatever was on their minds and promised that I'd plan summer worship around them. Almost immediately after sending out the request for questions, I wondered what I had done. What if they ask about _____? (Fill in the blank with your worst fear, and you'll be where I was several weeks ago!) What if they don't ask anything? No real problem there, I suppose. The lectionary didn't go away, I just chose not to use it this summer. This little experiment has worked out better than I had thought it might. I got enough questions to plan worship for five Sundays in July and August. Someone wanted to know about banners and art in worship. Someone else wanted to know about children and their role in the life of the church. This week, I'm having fun. Someone had heard me say several times that I don't understand why everyone doesn't want to be a Presbyterian. Makes sense to me! The questioner asked me to talk about what that means and why I think the Presbyterian version of faith ought to be attractive to others. Next week we'll talk about times when our faith changes relationships, and we'll finish the series (unless additional questions come in for August) with end time issues. It's been a fun series so far. I'm looking ahead to what the lectionary offers for late August and beyond, so I'll be back in my comfort zone before long. Hopefully, there is Gospel to proclaim in all of it. I'm sure someone will let me know.

Typist or Calligrapher?

2009-06-23T13:23:00.000-07:00

I know almost nothing about music from India. But I heard an interview with someone who does on NPR this morning that included a statement I've thought about all day. Some Indian musician died recently (don't mean to be disrespectful--I told you I didn't know much about it), and the NPR piece was about him. Near the end of the piece, the narrator talked about the musician/teacher who had died. He told a tale of a time when the teacher had told a voice student that he his singing was way too much like typing--that he needed to learn to sing more like handwriting. Then this afternoon, Deanna was here at the church giving a piano lesson, and I heard her tell her student that it was time for her (an adult) to start feeling some of the music instead of just playing it from the page. I'm as suspicious of feeling in religion as a Presbyterian is supposed to be, but I do think there is something about the thinking of the NPR guy and Deanna the piano teacher that can be helpful to us. Paul talks about the Law being our guide while we need one. That doesn't mean we can abandon the Law, but I hope it mean we can eventually get to a point at which we're not so worried about dotting i's and crossing t's and can spend more of our time and energy listening for and responding to God's call. I offer neither my penmanship nor my practice of the faith as a model for others, but I do think we'd all be helped if we lived and believed more like handwriting than typewriters.

A New Understanding of Covenant

2009-06-17T07:42:00.001-07:00

We're doing Vacation Bible School this week. Like most everything else about new church work, Vacation Bible School requires a lot of flexibility. This year we're focusing on the story of Joseph from the Book of Genesis, and our plan is to equip the kids to tell Joseph's story in music and drama at the end of the week. Our first exercise in flexibility came when we wound up with a bunch of preschool and elementary aged girls and one little boy. OK, so we won't be the first drama troupe to use females in male roles. The fact that music is not the primary gift of some of those little girls is something we figured we'd deal with. At the risk of sounding sexist, what they lack in musical ability, they more than compensate for in drama queen-ness! In the midst of music and drama, we're injecting a little Bible study (we're funny that way) into the schedule. Last night, we talked about covenant and how Joseph and his family were descendants of Abraham and, thus, in the same covenant relationship with God as Abraham and us. I thought covenant was one of those theological concepts I understood reasonably well. I studied under Hubert Morrow in seminary, so I have lived with covenant theology for years. His book, A Covenant of Grace, is just one reminder of what I learned from him. So for Bible study last night, I had made up a handout with a list of things in one column that God promises to do for us: to be our God, to love us, to forgive us, to be with us always...). Of course, each promise came with a citation from Scripture which we dutifully looked up and read. The other column of the handout had space for group members to write or draw something about promises they were ready to make to God. We talked about those promises. We prayed about those promises. We gave time for them to write or draw about their promises. Some were predictable given their ages: to pray, to come to church, to read the Bible, to be good to their siblings (unlike Joseph's slave-trading brothers), to be helpful at home. All good promises. One particularly precocious girl had another thought. After looking again at God's promises and considering hers, she said, "How 'bout if I just write, 'Right back atcha, God!'" I'm not sure what Dean Morrow might think about her covenant theology, but I think she's onto something.

Decent and In Order, but...

2009-06-10T11:19:00.000-07:00

I took a Calvin quiz (www.trouw.nl/nieuws/religie-filosofie/article2050113.ece)(I don't know how to make this a link, so you can cut and paste it if you want to see how you score)the other day in celebration this year's Calvin anniversary year. It told me my doctrine was solidly Calvinistic (surprise, surprise), but that I probably needed to lighten up a bit. So today, Deanna and I went to a mid-day concert from the Amelia Island Chamber Music Festival, which is going on here this month. The program (a free one) was interesting, one piece in particular. It featured a violinist and an African drummer (the drum, not the drummer)playing a piece dubbed as Bach meets Africa. (You get to hear interesting things at summer festivals!) It was fun, especially for the children who gathered in a community center gym for the event. Chamber Music concerts can sometimes be about as stuffy as Calvinists, so it was refreshing to go to one with children and other non-Chamber Music types in attendance. There was one little boy in particular who really got into the drum/violin piece. He didn't know that you aren't supposed to applaud between movements (I know, more stuffiness from a Calvinist!), but he knew he liked what he heard, so he clapped in the middle of movements when he wanted to! He was a joy to watch, and the piece was a joy to hear. I still like my worship done decently and in order, but I've learned that it's OK if something unexpected (like applause, which I usually don't like, but understand can be a genuine response) happens. I'm not ready to throw all order and sequence out of planning for worship, but a little spontaneity can be a good thing, too. Maybe I'll take the Calvin quiz again later this year and see if it thinks I've lightened up enough!

If We Only Talk With Those With Whom We Agree...

2009-05-26T13:22:00.000-07:00

A friend recently wrote on his own blog about a meeting of Presbytery in which a minister declined to receive Communion because he didn't agree with some positions taken by some during conversation about some issues. Someone else recently came to me with concerns about folks who are deciding they may not continue to worship with our congregation because they don't agree with some positions we take and some practices we follow. Then today, I caught part of the early conversation about the President's nominee for the Supreme Court. That conversation was mostly along ideological lines, and the person (whose name I don't remember and had not heard before) who was opposed to her quoted one line she had written at some point in her career as a reason not to confirm her appointment. These three events all took place in different places and times, but they all concern me for the same reason. It is simply too easy to think we can get through life talking only to people with whom we agree. It is something I'm not sure how to name to assume that those with whom we disagree have nothing to say that we need to hear. Those of you who know me have heard me say a million times that I don't understand why people are not beating down doors to become Presbyterians. Our system of theology and practice make good sense to me, and, better yet, they seem, in my mind, to be faithful to Scripture. At my church, however, people are not beating down doors to get to us. We are growing, as new churches are supposed to, but we are not yet turning people away. I hear from some who call to inquire about our ministry who decide they already know us when they find out of which denomination we're a part. Thankfully, I hear from others who decide to give us a try. We work for some. We don't for others. My biggest concern is for those who decide they can't hear the Gospel here or in any other place that doesn't conform to all the things they've already decided to be true. Something about a God who is alive and active, saying and doing things in the world convinces me that I need to listen to lots of different voices and try to discern where God is in the midst of them. I know it's easier to stay with what we know and understand, but I'm not so sure that easy has much to do with being faithful. Dialogue is always harder than monologue, but unless it's God doing the talking, I suspect dialogue is better. God, I hope so!

Can You Stand One More Wedding Word?

2009-05-13T12:48:00.000-07:00

One more word from the weekend in Kentucky, and then I promise I'll shut up for a while. The priest with whom I co-celebrated the wedding was a wonderful example of hospitality to this Presbyterian from out of town. Since the wedding was in his church, he laid out the service and assigned responsibilities for the two of us. He pastorally decided to use the order for a wedding that did not include Mass, since at least half of those attending would be Protestant and not able to participate in Communion. Whatever you think about that division, I am grateful that he avoided signs of it for this service. (I know he wouldn't have served me communion if I had gone back to his church for worship later in the weekend, but at least he avoided awkwardness while we were together.) In the note he sent me some weeks before the wedding to assign responsibilities, he spelled out what he'd be doing and what he was inviting me to do, then said, "then we would both be doing good and important things for Kelly and Jesse." When we arrived in Kentucky for the weekend, Father Chuck was welcoming from the first time we met.
When the service was over and we were milling around in the narthex waiting to go to the reception, some lady I didn't know came to me and said, "I've lived here all my life, and I've never seen a Protestant and a Catholic work together as well as you two, do." She didn't say whether she thought that was a good thing or a bad one. I didn't ask. I told her that this Protestant and that Catholic had it figured out, and that if others would listen to us, we'd be happy to tell them how it works. She decided to talk to someone else. I continue to be amazed at how much distance there is between believers who claim to serve the same God. I discovered that Father Chuck had studied preaching with David Buttrick, the real person. That's something I've only done in books. And that he is a big fan of Fred Craddock. What humble preacher isn't? I am grateful for a positive experience and will look forward to others.

You May Have... Give Me...

2009-05-12T11:31:00.000-07:00

I know you can't go home again. Most days, I don't even want to. But I did this past weekend. Our trip back to Kentucky to perform a wedding took us back to where life together began for Deanna and me. The son of our oldest friends was the groom. Those friends who used to eat brownies and watch Dallas at our house after football games on Friday nights have lived and worked in Elizabethtown since we all lived there together. They go to the same church. She works in the same enterprise. He retired from teaching and now works in his church (So you know he's crazy.). We, on the other hand, moved from there to Indiana in 1980 and from Indiana to Tennessee, back to Kentucky, to Mississippi, back to Kentucky, to Alabama, and now to Florida. Every time we go back there to visit, I wonder what our lives might have been if we had stayed there. There is a lot to be said for stability and long-term relationships. I can't say much of it, but there is a lot to be said for it. As I wandered through those beautiful rolling hills that are central Kentucky, I always wonder what life would have been if I had stayed there. But then I remember that it was God's call that took me away from there and that it is God's call that continues to sustain me where I am. Our choir is about to sing an arrangement of a favorite old song of mine: Give Me Jesus. One of the things that song says over and over is "You may have all this world; give me Jesus." I think I'm hearing something in those words I haven't heard before. Something like, "OK, if you mean that, stop looking back at what was and be thankful for what is. If you really mean to follow me, then follow where I'm going." OK. You may have all this world, even the places I sometimes wish I were. I receive much in return: an abiding presence that sustains me; a call to work that challenges me; a voice that shakes me out of looking back and reminds me that here and now are gifts, too.

Wherever Time Goes, There's a Pile of It!

2009-05-12T11:16:00.000-07:00

Deanna and I had fun this past weekend. We went back to Elizabethtown, KY, the first place we called home together so that I could perform a wedding for the son of our oldest friends. We've known Jesse since before he was born, and it was a special privilege to be invited to preach for his wedding (a Protestant/Catholic event that will likely generate another post). Deanna and I were teachers when we lived in E-town in the '70's. I taught high school English; she elementary music at St. James School, the school connected to the church where Jesse and Kelly were married on Saturday, so the event gave us plenty of opportunity for strolling down memory lane. The children at St. James who were receiving their first communion on Sunday were the children of the elementary school children Deanna taught to sing way back when. We also saw a few of my former students who have various connections to Jesse and Kelly. Some of them I remembered, and some I had to have some help remembering. I was doing fine when they told me how they remembered hating to read Billy Budd and when they still complained about how hard my tests were. I puffed up a bit when they told me how much they remembered learning when I was their teacher, and how different it had been when their kids went to the same high school. They could have stopped talking then and we'd have been fine. But they went on to talk about having kids in college! My students! Their kids in college. We left E-town in 1980. Intellectually, I know that that's twenty-nine graduating classes ago, but at some other level, I still think of my students as they were when I left them. I was only twenty-one when I started teaching, so my earliest students are nearly as old as I am. I wasn't altogether sure that some of them were going to make it to college, and now they're sending their kids. One of them is assistant principal at an area school. Another one is an investment broker. Another manages a local business. But they have kids in college! Time stands still for none of us, I know, but I was pretty shaken by that one. They were gracious and didn't say much about how much older I am. They were polite and didn't shout, assuming that someone of my advancing years must be hard of hearing by now. It was fun to be back at one of the many places I have called home for a brief visit, but, as much as I love that place, I think I'm glad I don't have to live there and see former students all the time. When they discovered that I live in Florida, they all promised to come and visit. I suspect they won't, but if they do, I hope they hurry before my memory of them is gone forever.

Is This Supposed to Be Fun?

2009-04-30T11:49:00.000-07:00

We're settling back into a more routine schedule at church after all the calendar shifting involved in Lent and Easter. That means our Kerygma Bible study groups are diligently moving toward completing that fourteen-week study of that Gospel we began in September! This week, we had a newcomer--not to the church, but to this particular study group. I'm always happy to see newcomers at educational events or other things we do, and it's particularly interesting to see how those folks perceive what goes on in those settings. Our conversation this week was lively (When is it not?), and we didn't cover nearly as much ground as we had set out to do. The group was small, but everyone there, including the newcomer, participated in meaningful ways. I talked to our first-timer at another church event (We all do spend a lot of time together! Welcome to new church world.) and asked what she thought and if it might be something she'd be interested in continuing. One of the descriptors we used for the session was that it had been fun. Then she asked, "Is it supposed to be fun?" I certainly hope so! I suspect that's why our Kerygma groups are not any larger than they are (couldn't be my teaching, surely. Who the heck knows what Kerygma means in the first place? And how many are going to venture out of their comfort zones to find out. If it has to have a Greek name, it must be over my head, right? Wrong! At least if I do it. That got me to thinking about how people with even less understanding of who we are and what we do must perceive what we're doing in the Church. I suspect fun is not usually among the words they choose to describe what they think we're doing. I know the authors of the Westminster Confession and Catechism are probably not the first folks who come to mind when we think about having a good time, but they did begin the Catechism with the classic statement that our chief end is "to glorify God and enjoy God forever." Somewhere along the line we decided that glorifying God and having fun had become mutually exclusive. It's about to be Shrimp Festival weekend here in Amelia, and I doubt there will be a Bible study booth among the fun things to do there. But that doesn't mean that Bible study or worship or anything else we do in the Church can't be fun. It may say more about my social life than it does about the quality of my teaching, but that study group has provided some of the most fun I've had this week. I look forward every week to see what kinds of new understandings members will bring and how others will agree or disagree with them. I hope our newcomer comes back to Kerygma. And I hope we keep having fun discovering God's Word together. Even more, I hope whatever study follows this one (We really are going to finish Matthew in May--or at least quit!) will be something on which other newcomers will take a chance.

Hard to Stay Excited?

2009-03-26T06:55:00.000-07:00

I don't listen to or watch national news quite as much as I once did anymore. I know I should, but part of my hesitance stems from the entertainment style that broadcast news has become and part of it is the same weariness with bad news and frivolous reporting of it of which I hear many speak. That said, I do keep NPR on the car radio, so I get some idea about what's going on in the world. Yesterday afternoon on the way home I heard an interview with a young adult about his take on the ongoing financial crisis we face. He talked about his excitement during the recent presidential campaign and the hope he had for the new administration. Then he said something close to, "But it's been a while now, and it's hard to stay excited."
Whatever your attitude about the current presidential administration, by my count, it has been in place for sixty-six days. Given a day to celebrate its beginning, a few days to move in, get settled, and learn e-mail addresses and phone extensions, that's about two months. And what a two months they have been! To go from get-out-the-vote excitement to it's-hard-to-stay-excited this soon says much more to me about the culture we've made than it does about that one young adult. Instant gratification seems to be what we all want in most areas of our lives. Those of us who want to lose weight (And who doesn't?) want a pill or a meal plan that will have pounds falling off behind us as we walk across the room, which is about as much exercise as we're willing to commit to the task. Those of us who live in relationships that need attention (Again, who doesn't?) want ours to be like the ones we read about in magazines or romance novels, and we want to wake up in them tomorrow morning. Honest conversation about expectations? Acknowledgments of what we're willing to commit to make these relationships happen? The magazines and novels don't spend much time on those, so why should we? Those who want the economy fixed (You know anybody who doesn't?)want it fixed yesterday, including the restoration of our retirement funds. I'm no economist, but even I know that kind of fix is not likely. It is hard to stay excited when things don't change much. So I wonder if we might not ought to ask if excitement is all it's cracked up to be.
It is late in Lent. Those of us who have been on this journey have been at it for nearly five weeks now. We had good intentions when we started. We'd read that devotional guide every day and set aside some time to pray. Some of us took on other disciplines, denying ourselves something we thought might make us think or taking on tasks and responsibilities that might do the same. We had every good intention of making those special services at church or doing something to observe the season. Where'd we put that devotional guide? I know it's here somewhere. Don't you think that agency we meant to call probably has enough volunteers already? I guess someone would wonder where I'd been if I showed up at extra worship now? At the root of all that lies the wonder if anything we do can keep us excited about being faithful.
Somewhere along the way, we figure out that living faithfully involves a lot more ordinary days than it does exciting ones. For every sermon that makes the hair stand up on the backs of our necks, there are four for five that we don't remember. (Remember, this is the preacher talking. No need to let me know you agree!) For every time we go to the Scripture and find inspiration, there are more times that we wonder with the Psalmist, "How long, O Lord, how long?"
But yet, we continue to do the things we know how to do to understand more about who God is and who God is calling us to be. We worship. We pray. We turn to the Scripture. We sing. And sometimes we might even try something new, some new form of worship, a new song, a new guide for understanding God's Word. All in the hope of finding something to stay excited about.
I'm no more sure about what will happen to us economically or politically than anyone else is. But I am sure that spiritual growth can happen, that God, who calls us into that process, is faithful, and that whatever steps I am willing to take, God will bless and use to my advantage. As weary of the Lenten imagery as we all are, the hardest words to hear and images to see lie ahead of us. But so does the joy of Easter morning. There's a day that might generate some excitement among us. Wonder how long it will last?

Coming to Terms With...

2009-02-26T13:16:00.000-08:00

I've about come to terms with the impending reality that my Kentucky Wildcats will not be in the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament this spring. I know some bracketologists are still predicting they'll make it, but they must not have seen them play the past several games. If I'm wrong, and they do make it into the tournament, I'll follow them as far as they go. (I suspect that's an easy promise to make that won't require much of me this year.) If they don't get in at all, their absence will seriously alter my life's schedule during March. I may fill out a bracket on selection Sunday anyway, but it won't be nearly as much fun, and Deanna will tell me I'll have to take that process much more seriously because I always have Kentucky winning it. That's not likely this year, although I'd like to be proven wrong there, too. And I guess I can go to work most days without worrying about when to run home to catch a Kentucky game. Looks like March will be a much different month for me than it usually is. In case you haven't figured out what rabid basketball fans we (and many of our friends) are, this time of year always reminds me of the Saturday afternoon when Marquette was beating the tar out of Kentucky in the tournament and our phone rang with less than two minutes left. Caller ID is a great gift during basketball season, so when I went to the phone and saw the name and number of a dear friend who was near death, I knew I had to answer. My friend's son (who is as rabid a KY fan as I am) opened the conversation this way, "Bob, you know I wouldn't bother you now if Daddy weren't dead!" We were both glad his dad didn't have to watch the outcome of that game, which ejected KY from the tournament. I'm coming to terms with the distinct possibility that there won't be drama like that this March.
I'm also thinking about Lent, which began yesterday, as a time for coming to terms with some other realities that I can't control. Every year, I set out to improve the quality of my spiritual life, and every year I fall short of my goals. Even though I know and believe that guilt is not a particularly helpful thing, I get caught up in it like everyone else does. One of my goals for this Lent is to come to terms with the reality that I will never be all that I think God is calling me to be. But an even greater goal is to remember that God knows that, and that God has promised to stay in relationship with me anyway.
The Kentucky basketball parts of this post won't mean much to most who read it. I hope my Lenten coming to terms thinking will. We belong to God. God loves us. God has promised that that will never change, regardless of our worthiness or lack of it. Come to terms with it.

Who's On Your Mountain?

2009-02-20T12:12:00.001-08:00

Transfiguration Sunday is never a favorite time to preach for me. I've had more than my share of mountaintop experiences, but I never know quite for sure how to deal with the supernatural side of what we believe. I read about another mountain experience the other day, though, that I thought was fun. ESPN has created Mt. Rushmore lineups for all the major football conferences and many of the big football schools (Roll, Tide) with four of the most notable people from the history of those conferences and schools on the mountain like the four great Presidents in South Dakota. That got me to thinking about some of the people who have been especially helpful to me on my spiritual journey. It's hard to narrow it down to four, but, today at least, my mountain would have the likenesses of Hubert Morrow, Paul Brown, Beverly St. John, and Jean Hunter carved onto it. Dean Morrow and Dr. Brown were seminary professors of mine. Dean Morrow exuded a Reformed understanding of Scripture and understood grace better than most people I have ever known. Paul Brown was one of my preaching teachers who taught me things I relearn every week when I sit down with a text, not the least important of which is to work hard enough to have something to say and to shut up when I've said it. Both Dean Morrow and Paul are gone from this world. I miss them. People get tired of hearing me talk about Beverly St. John. She epitomizes grace. Enough said. Jean Hunter will be upset if she discovers she's on this list. That's why she's here. She doesn't practice her faith to be noticed. But those of us who love her notice. (Jean, if you ever read this, I put you here because I'm grown and I wanted to.) I've got a whole list of people who could fill another mountain, but those are my top four.
So, who's on your mountain? Think about it. If you feel up to it, leave a comment to let us know who has been particularly helpful to you on your journey.

Pre-, Post-; Is There Another Option?

2009-01-30T07:28:00.001-08:00

Don't panic! This is not about millennial theology. I continue to be of the school that believes that God knows all there is to know about that, and that we don't need to know much beyond "The kingdoms of this world will become the kingdom of our Lord of the Christ," although sometimes, like everybody else, I wish I knew more.
The pre- and post- things I'm thinking about today are of a different sort. Those are terms we use to set ourselves in some kind of history. I'm part of that big post-war, Baby-boomer generation that has caused our culture grief at every stage of our lives (and will continue to as we age and retire!). I grew up in a pre-cellphone, pre-internet world and wonder how we did it.
These days we talk about more post-things than pre- ones. Postmodernism has now morphed into post-Christian. What that means, I think, is that while we in the Church weren't paying attention, many people stopped paying much attention to us. The new administration in Washington tells us that we're living in post-racial and post-partisan times. I'm not holding my breath for either one of those.
My problem with all this is that we keep thinking about the present and the future in terms of what we've experienced. We measure what we can't know by what we think we do.
I don't know, of course, what the future holds anymore than anyone else does. As a new church pastor, I might think about that more than someone else. I'm looking forward to seeing what our new congregation develops into, but I caution our leaders all the time to be careful about bringing too many expectations from previous experiences to our work. I have my own ideas about what a church looks like, and everyone else has ideas about that, too. We all bring those expectations to this work. Some of them are helpful, and some of them are not. For the first time in my life, I'm part of a church without a Sunday School. But that doesn't mean that meaningful, purposeful Bible study doesn't happen here. Our Tuesday Kerygma groups have struggled with the Sermon on the Mount in ways that have challenged us all. Our PW group is serious about its study of Luke's Gospel this week. Our children gather with people who care about them during a portion of the worship service every week to work on the same ideas we're talking about on the other side of the wall. They also meet for special events occasionaly to play and sing and learn together. Now we have a group of young adults looking for a regular time and resource that will help them figure out what Scripture says to them and their world and a group of young adult women in particular who want to get together to talk about how their faith informs and enriches their roles and women, wives, moms, and all the other things they are. Who knows what else people are thinking about that they haven't shared with me yet? All of that adds us to Church that looks different than anything most of us have ever seen, but Church that comes from peoples' perceptions of God's call in their lives. If that makes us post-traditional or post-Sunday School, I guess that's OK.
What I think it really means, though, is that we are learning to trust God's vision for our lives and for our church. I'm not altogether sure what that vision is, but when some of us begin to see and hear the same things, we figure God might be leading us, and so we follow. I'm trying to be very careful to avoid the pre- and post- labels for what we're doing. I'm trying to tell myslef so I can assure others that what we're doing is trying to figure out where God is in our midst and trying to stay there until God calls us to be somewhere else. I'll let you know how it goes!

2009-01-09T16:15:00.000-08:00

College football season is finally over! I know that's a bigger deal form some of us than for others, but bear with me; I've got a point to make here. From Tim Tebow's emotional speech after the Ole Miss loss until the championship game last night, the season became more and more focused on him. That's OK, even for those of us who are not Florida fans. Tebow is an impressive young man, and I wish him well whether he comes back for his senior season in the Swamp or goes to the NFL. I don't know that I remember an athlete the media has touted the way they have Tebow. Let me hasten to say, I don't build my life around the values the media sets before us, but we're all influence by the media more than we want to grant. It has been impossible to watch football this season without hearing about him--not just his abilities on the field (which pretty much speak for themselves), but his Christian witness and his personal character, which are also pretty impressive. We've heard about mission trips, speaking engagements in prisons, and all kinds of other things he does in response to God's call in his life. I'd much rather hear about those things than the things we hear more often about college and professional athletes. It's refreshing to hear about a kid whose family has grounded him in Christian faith so that it is foundational to his understanding of himself. I wish I had done a better job of that with my own boys. What concerns me, though, is that the media talks about this as though it has never happened before. At one point in last night's championship game, one of the commentators, who had apparently recently met Tebow for the first time (I still haven't.) said on national television that he thought that anybody who spent as much as five minutes in Tebow's presence would experience a positive change in his or her life. I began to wonder if the Second Coming had occurred and found me in the wrong pew. One of the sports message boards I read every morning before I engage the world was abuzz today with the so-called man-crush the media has had with Tebow this season and the spiritual overtones it has taken. One poster asked if maybe Tebow had turned the water into Gatorade last night.
I'm for Tebow as a Christian witness (although I still wish Shula had recruited him to Alabama as he should have). I'm grateful for the opportunities he has that I'll never have to communicate about Christ with people. But I'm concerned about a society that is willing to elevate a college athete to near deity. (This from someone who lived in Alabama where everybody knows about football and God!)
Two important questions come to mind: 1.) are we so desperate for something to believe in that we'll expect a kid to be what we need when we know that sooner (sorry, Okies) or later he'll disappoint us. (I, for one, was thankful for the Gator chomp taunt that got him penalized, not for the penatlyl, but because it means he's still a kid!) and, more importantly, 2.) have all the rest of us mere mortals who claim faith in Christ as the foundation of our lives been so ineffective as witnesses of his presence in our lives that the world doesn't recognize him in us, or anywhere? That one stings.

I Finally Made Christmas Lists!

2008-12-22T13:29:00.000-08:00

We really do enjoy getting those holiday letters some people complain about at Christmas. Having moved around as many times as we have, we have friends scattered in several places, and, as good as our intentions are, we don't do a good job of staying in touch. Those Christmas letters give us a chance to see kids grow, lives change, and all kinds of other things. Like most people, we usually read through them, stash them with the rest of the Christmas cards and intend to do better about staying in touch. Then it's time for another Christmas, and we read about people about whom we really did intend to do better.
This year's Christmas letters brought something unexpected. I got mentioned in two of them! One young friend of mine felt the need to remind people that he was a Duke basketball fan (as though we could ever forget that about him), and included me and another die-hard Kentucky fan as people who wouldn't be happy to hear that. (I gave up on converting him to the true faith long ago!) The other mention was from my friend who is serving as supply pastor at the congregation I left behind in Huntsville earlier this year. Most of what she had to say about me had to do with how much extra work I had caused for her.
I never thought much about actually being in someone's Christmas letter. These two references felt pretty good, though. Our first Florida holiday has been a wonderful experience, but it's different being this far away from many of the things and people who have been part of our celebrations before. Of course we've shared this year's celebration in our new home and community with all kinds of friends we didn't know before. Still, it's kind of nice to know we've left parts of ourselves among other friends in other places (Even if one of them is a Duke fan!)
I hope you can find some quiet, reflective time in these last few days before Christmas. And I hope you can think about the parts of yourselves you've left with other people in other places. Even if you didn't make someone's Christmas letter this year, I'll bet someone somewhere is thankful for you. And I'm sure you're thankful for the presence of lots of people in your life, too. I hope you all find a way to let each other know. You might just make someone's day. My friends surely made mine! Merry Christmas.

Wishing and Hoping

2008-12-09T14:27:00.000-08:00

For my birthday, some friends gave me one of those little hand held gizmos that plays twenty questions and tries to figure out sports and music things I'm thinking about. It's pretty good most of the time. But I've stumped it a couple of times. That may say more about the kinds of music I like and my memory of sports stats than it says about that machine, but it's fun whatever it means. Dusty Springfield is one of the music names that stumped the game. Those of you who are my age (56, as of Sunday!) probably remember when Dusty sang a song called Wishing and Hoping. It was all about love and what it takes to experience it. In her words, "Wishing and hoping and thinking and praying, planning and dreaming...that won't get you into his arms." She goes on to make some pretty specific suggestions about will get you into the arms of the one you've identified as the source of all happiness in your life. (She suggests things like holding and kissing and hugging and things that usually work, at least at first.)
One of the messages of Dusty's song seems to be that wishing and hoping aren't enough. Dreaming is good, but what we're dreaming of usually requires us to do something.
Most of us do some wishing and hoping during this time of year. Whether we're wishing for a special gift, hoping for peace in the world (or maybe at least in our lives), planning for the perfect holiday, or dreaming of a White Christmas (doubtful in my part of the world, thanks be to God!), Dusty's message applies. Wishing and hoping usually sound pretty one-sided. They evoke images like Charlie Brown and the little red-haired girl: he dreams of a relationship with her, and she doesn't know he exists. Of course, he's not about to talk to her and let her know how he feels, either! As long as wishing and hoping are all we do, we'll probably never experience what we're wishing and hoping for.
Wishing and hoping are important during Advent, but our wishes and hopes are not just idle wanderings of our minds to better things. We wish and hope for what God has promised-a Savior who will speak peace, a relationship that will give order, meaning, and purpose to our lives. We can wish and hope, but we can also do things to hasten the coming of those things for which we wait. During Advent, we pray. We light candles. We spend time in Scripture. We draw closer to God confident that God is coming closer to us.
Dusty Springfield's song ends with her goal within in reach, literally. Girls, she promises, if you do all the things I've suggested, you will be his. I know she's got some mop-topped boy from the sixties in mind. But I also know that some of her thinking applies to our wishing and hoping for God, too. God has promised to come to us. And in Jesus Christ, God keeps that promise. We belong to God. And if we satisfy ourselves with the things God's people do, we will be God's. I don't know (and probably don't need to) all the things you're wishing and hoping for this season. but I know (and want you to know) that if peace with God is on the list, your wishing and hoping will amount to something. Thanks be to God!

Thanksadmus

2008-12-02T13:55:00.000-08:00

Way back when I was much younger, I remember hearing all the old people talk about how quickly time flew by. Of course, I was young then, waiting for all kinds of things, so I didn't have a clue what they were talking about. (And I was pretty sure they didn't, either.) When I was twelve, I couldn't wait to be thirteen, then sixteen, then eighteen, twenty-one, and all those other magical ages that were supposed to make such a difference in my life. Now that I am well past all those milestones, I catch myself wondering why time won't slow down enough for me to catch up. This time of year makes things even worse. Most of you know we just moved. Some of you know we're still unpacking, and will be for a while. Thanksgiving thrust itself into our lives before I found the turkey roasting pan. We managed. Thanksgiving came and went, as it always does. These busy days of Advent resist my insistence on some quiet time to pray and reflect on God's grace, but I still have good intentions of using these days and nights for my spiritual betterment. If today is December 3, then Christmas is right around the corner, and my birthday comes between now and then, as if I needed another reminder that time marches on.
I am much more thankful than I was able to express while Thanksgiving whizzed past me this year. I am also grateful for God's promise made known in Christ, whether my frenzied pace during Advent shows it or not. When Christmas comes, I won't be ready, but it will come anyway. Even though it seems that I'm living through some unknown season I'll call Thanksadmus this year, I know each of these days, hectic and harried as they are, are gifts from God, times to be savored, times for which I'll be thankful when I'm even older, looking back wondering where these days have gone. Happy Thanksadmus. I know some of you are celebrating it with me!

Our Stuff

2008-11-18T14:03:00.000-08:00

I know that my real identity and worth are not about what I own or what owns me. Even so, I must admit a real sense of comfort in being surrounded (and if you could see the house right now while we unpack, you'd know how literally I mean surrounded) by my own stuff again. While we are more grateful than words can express to have had places to live while we waited for the sale of a house and the purchase of another, there is nothing like sitting on your own couch or sleeping in your own bed Like most people I know, we have much more stuff than we need. This move, we discarded a lot of things we had been hauling around for years, some which had not been unpacked from the last move nine years ago. Opening a box and discovering books that I'm accustomed to seeing on the shelf or finding mementos from special events down through the years (things that look like junk to some, I know) reminds me of who I am and how I came to be this person.
I'm not altogether sure of where all our stuff is going in this new place. But I'm surely glad to have it with me again. Each piece of it has a story of some sort. I promise not to tell them all. But I am thankful for the stories and for the people behind all that stuff.

Wherever We Are

2008-11-18T13:50:00.000-08:00

Psalm 139 has long been a favorite of mine. The assurance this Psalm provides that God knows me, and that God loves me in spite of what God knows is a rare gift. The middle part of the Psalm, the part that talks about never being away from God's presence always makes me thankful. While I never doubt God's presence, I will admit that sometimes I wonder if God really knows (or cares) where I am. The first time I remember having those thoughts was years ago when we lived in Mississippi. At the time that was as far from family, friends, and other familiar things as we had ever lived. I remember walking from the mailbox down a dusty driveway one hot summer day and wondering, does God really know I'm here? As Deanna and I have moved from one temporary home to another over the past several months (for both of which we are extremely grateful), I remember feeling the same way and asking the same question: do you think God really knows where we are?
As some of you know, we have recently moved into a new home of our own (well, most of it belongs to the bank, but you know what I mean). As I dropped one more change of address card in the mail the other day, and ask I dragged in another box to unpack, I remember asking again whether God knows where we are.
Don't misunderstand; I know that God has plenty to keep up without worrying specifically about where Bob is today. As long as there are wars, starving children, and people who have not heard the Gospel, I suspect God has plenty to do without worrying about where I am. Even so, the Psalmist provides considerable comfort in these words: "How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! I try to count them--they are more than the sand; I come to the end--I am still with you" (vv17-18).
That helps me to reframe my question. It's not so much a matter of whether or not God knows where I am (although I know God does) as it is a matter of my being with God, wherever I roam. I am happy to be settling into a new home. I am happy about the good things happening at Providence Church. And I am happy that I am never away from God's presence. Neither are you. Thanks be to God!

2008-10-24T13:18:00.000-07:00

Saying What We Mean

I try to be careful about language most of the time. The old English major in me just won't die, I guess. One of the best interpretative tools I've ever found was a statement from a professor of mine years ago who told us again and again never to overlook the possibility that a writer means exactly what (s)he says. My teacher usually said that in response to some foolish interpretation one of us had made of something we had read. Like many, I guess we preferred what we wanted the writer to say over what (s)he had actually said. Our teacher, of course, had his own ideas about what the writer was saying, and his ideas were usually more valuable than ours.
We've been caught up in the midst of selling a house in Alabama and buying one in Florida and trying to negotiate all the steps in that process on a pretty tight schedule. I caught myself one day this week telling a friend that I thought it was all going to work out on schedule if the stars all aligned in just the right order.
I don't really believe that the alignment of the stars has much, if anything, to do with getting two real estate deals closed and movers scheduled. Even though both the friend to whom I was speaking and I are people of faith, for some reason, I guess I found it easier to use secular language than to say that I am depending in this, as in all things, on God's care and guidance.
Maybe we're all a little hesitant to sound pious or religious. (Those of you who know me know that that's not usually an option for me.) I don't believe there is necessarily anything wrong with my alignment of the stars imagery, but I know there's nothing wrong with acknowledging my dependence on God.
Maybe someday we'll remember that some people think we mean exactly what we say, and we'll learn to be more careful about what we say.

Baby Steps

2008-10-13T13:40:00.000-07:00

I remember how excited we'd get when our boys were small and made even the smallest steps toward a goal. Sleeping all night. Those first steps. First words. We celebrated them all with great excitement. Somehow, along the way, we lose sight of how important those little steps are. As our kids grow, we tend to celebrate bigger things: graduations, scholarships (I wish!), awards. Somehow we forget how important it is to celebrate little things.
Working as a new church pastor will remind you of the joy of celebrating little things in a hurry. We plan for visitors every Sunday, but we don't always get them. But, boy, just let some new folks show up, and we treat them like royalty! We had a children's event here over the weekend. Lots of work and planning had gone into it, as you might imagine. We had high hopes about meeting new families and their children. While we were disappointed with the number of children who attended, the children who were here never knew it. The event was all about them and their Christian nurture, and I'm grateful we were able to keep that in mind as we spent the afternoon together.
Today's Monday, and we're working toward another Sunday. We're also making plans for another children's event before Christmas. And we're learning the joy of celebrating little steps toward our goal of becoming a church.

Where Do You Start?

2008-09-26T10:54:00.000-07:00

For many of us, the church is either something that has always been a part of our lives, or it's something we don't think much about. Few of us think much about how a church gets started. In most cases, it's always been there: when we were kids in Sunday School or when we were members of a youth group and benefited from the fellowship and acceptance we found there. As adults, the church has married us, helped us welcome our children into the world, and probably guided us through some less pleasant times if we have lived long enough. Whether our participation has been a foundational or an occasional part of our lives, the church has always been there.
The church I serve hasn't always been here. We are a new church, still trying to figure out who God is calling us to be and what God is calling us to do.
New churches are certainly not unusual in the United States. Drive through any community and you'll see signs of splits and divisions that resulted in new congregations, some that thrive, and some the nurse wounds until they die. On community near where I once lived included the following congregations, all of the same denomination: Bethel Church, Old Bethel Church, New Bethel Church, and Bethel #1. Enough said about how some churches come into being. I served as Organizing Pastor for a new congregation in Alabama before moving to Florida this summer. One of the questions I heard most often there from newcomers and people who called for information was "Who did you split from?" There, I could honestly say that it wasn't a split that led our beginning. The Presbytery planted the church in the midst of a growing community because there wasn't one of our persuasion there. It continues to grow along with that community even without me as its pastor.
The congregation I'm currently working with, Providence Presbyterian, also enjoys the sponsorship and guidance of its Presbytery, the Presbytery of St. Augustine. Planning for the congregation began when some people who were previously members of another congregation in our area approached their pastor and other leaders in the Presbytery about the possibility of beginning a new congregation in this area. After a long and more circuituous journey than that group saw coming, they called me to become their pastor this summer.
There are plenty of sources of information about how to start new churches around. New Church Development has been a popular topic in many denominations for several years. Lots of people think new churches have more likelihood of attracting new people, especially those who don't have much background in the church, than established congregations with all the things newcomers have to navigate there. There's some truth in that. But lots of new people want and expect things that new churches can't always provide, at least on a schedule that meets the needs of some of those people. Youth groups have to be gathered and nurtured. Children's activities require the presence of children and the leadership of people who love them. Sometimes people decide to go ahead and take their chances with an established congregation, or with a newer one with a little history behind it instead of waiting to see what the new congregation might become.
As helpful as all the literature out there is, the best guide we've found is God's Word that tells us all to make disciples, to teach, to baptize, and to love in Christ's name. That's what we're trying to do at Providence Church. Check in from time to time to see how it's going.