Christ Be Our Light

I have to be honest: most texts in scripture no longer stir me emotionally.  I have heard the popular ones so many times.  Luke’s birth story, Luke’s story of the prodigal son.  Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount including the Beatitudes and Lord’s Prayer.  Even the story of resurrection rarely touches my emotion.  I guess this is a side effect of a life that is spent continuously around the Church and scripture.  Familiarity often dulls the senses and removes the surprises, and we always know what is coming and are prepared for it.  One text that surprised me a couple of weeks ago was the prophet’s image of the peaceful kingdom of God, in which the wolf shall live with the lamb and the leopard the kid.  Calf and lion shall live together and a little child shall lead them both.  The bear shall graze with the cow, and even the lions will eat straw.  Little children shall play among serpents that were once considered deadly, and “they will not hurt nor destroy on all God’s holy mountain.”

            As I heard this passage from Isaiah 11 a couple of weeks ago during worship I suddenly found a lump in my throat.  My eyes filled with tears because it suddenly struck me how far we are from this vision that Isaiah had of God’s kingdom.  Violence, hate, death, disease, and evil seem to be the images that dominate the world.  Darkness abounds, and the light of Christ seems to be a flickering candle flame in the face of this shocking darkness. 

            This world is a dark place.  The darkness seems so strong, that at times it is hard to know where to find light.  On the Eve of Christmas we light the Christ Candle, and it is a time-tested and beautiful tradition that warms the hearts of those who celebrate that light.

            The light of Christ can be found in many ways: in worship, in giving, in spiritual formation, in evangelism, in fellowship, and in service to others.  Christ has promised to be present when we are busy being the church, and we are busy about being the Church every week.

One of my favorite contemporary hymns is titled “Christ Be Our Light” by the British composer and hymn-writer Bernadette Farrell.  Each stanza is in a minor key, and conveys a “longing” for light in a dark world.  The refrain is sung in a major key, and proclaims that it is Christ who is our light.  You can watch and hear the energetic Notre Dame University Folk Choir singing this hymn by clicking here.

            Is your world dark?  Do you need the light of Christ?  Devote yourself to God and to being a part of God’s people. 

            It’s a dark world…Come and find the light of Christ.

Magnificat

In my former pastorate in North Carolina, my family and I lived in a parsonage.  For those who are new to church, a parsonage is a house owned by a church in which they allow (or insist) their minister and his or her family to live at no charge while the pastor serves in that congregation.  Most congregations talk about their parsonage as a “perk” to being their pastor, and the fair rental value of the parsonage is often included in the pastor’s compensation package.  The parsonage that my family and I lived in for five years was a house located less than 100 feet from the church building, and it was built in the 1930’s to be that church’s parsonage.  It was a large house, nearly 3,500 square feet, and for my family it was probably the largest house we will ever live in.

            The neighborhood that surrounded the church was what could be termed “transitional.”  On the street in front of the church and parsonage lived several church members who had purchased older homes and restored them to beautiful condition.  This was Church Street, and it was a beautiful picture of small town America with tree lined streets with sidewalks and perfectly manicured lawns.  Then there was the street behind the church and parsonage.  On the block that backed up to the parsonage was a row of rental houses that many would describe as being owned by a “slum lord.”  The houses were old and drafty, and were rented to multiple people within the same year because the routine was for people to quickly fall behind in their rent and then be evicted.

            I knew many of the people who occupied these houses as some of them would regularly come asking for assistance.  Some of them I liked and I had a relationship with, others were scarier individuals who would come and bother my family at the most inopportune times.  It was not uncommon for someone to show up about dinner time and we would normally make them a plate of whatever we were having for dinner.  Sometimes people would come early in the morning, and every once in a while they would come late at night.  This was a part of life in that parsonage.

            This is no longer a part of my life.  I live in a place where this never happens, and I am grateful.  The peace and quiet that my family and I have at our home was new to us when we moved to Powhatan, and I value our home because it is our place of sanctuary, a place that I can step away from the needs and demands of ministry and simply be relaxed as husband and dad.  My kids are safe, no hungry people wait outside of our front door, and we have never had to share our dinner with a hungry person.  I love the peace, quiet, seclusion, and privacy of our home.

            I understand what draws people to Powhatan, and I would imagine that escaping the uncomfortable encounters much like I experienced is a part of it.  We like our solitude, our quiet, and our privacy.  And at times I worry that the blessing of my home in our wonderful community numbs me to the reality of need in our world.  I worry that I forget about the human needs of our world, and some days I also miss the blessing of meeting those needs.

            In the Magnificat, Mary sings a song about the child in her womb setting the world right.  She sings about the lowly being lifted up and the hungry being filled.  She sings about a world that will be as God intended the world to be, a world of justice and equity and peace.  Mary’s singing is so compelling that it invites God’s people into God’s work, not just singing but working to make God’s vision a reality.

            Very often it is hard for me to see the needy people in Powhatan.  The blessings of our wonderful home carry subtle risks.  We risk blindness to many needs, and we risk missing the blessing of service.  We all know that there are many needs in our community, needs that are often less visible than in other places.  Let us pray with Mary for a restored world and let us pray that our eyes will be open to see the hurt and hunger that exists around the edges of the good place we all call home.

Inconvenienced by God's Advent

For preachers who follow the lectionary, each year the fourth Sunday after Easter is “Jesus the Good Shepherd” day.  The lectionary points toward Psalm 23 each year on this particular day, and the Gospel Reading is normally a text in which Jesus describes himself as the Great Shepherd of the Sheep.  “I lay down my life for my sheep” Jesus says.  Or, “my sheep know my voice, and the path that I take.”  I love these texts because they bring me peace and comfort.  They soothe my restless soul and in them I find great comfort.  I love this image of Jesus.

            Yesterday we celebrated the first Sunday of Advent, and the image of Jesus was quite different from this calm and peaceful shepherd.  Yesterday we heard Jesus talk about the end of the world, the consummation of the age, the apocalypse.  When God comes, Jesus says, your lives will be changed, re-ordered, altered, and disrupted.  Following Jesus certainly brings peace and security and comfort, but Jesus also reminds us that when God invades, calls, commands, and invites, our lives will experience disruption.

            If I never hear Jesus calling me to do something that makes me uncomfortable or uneasy, I’m not sure I’m hearing Jesus.  If I never hear Jesus asking me to give something away that is valuable, I’m not sure I’m hearing Jesus.  If I never hear Jesus calling me to take a risk, to make myself vulnerable, to step out in faith, I’m not sure I’m hearing Jesus. 

            In an age of market driven churches there is a great temptation to make Christianity look easy.  In order to attract people, we are tempted to take away all of Jesus’ demands so not to scare anyone away.  But make no mistake about it: following the Jesus of the Bible is demanding.  It costs us something.  We are asked to do things that are not easy, things that make us uncomfortable, things that stretch us beyond our normal way of living.

            When is the last time you heard Jesus calling you to do something difficult?  Or demanding?  Like going on a mission trip?  When is the last time you heard Jesus calling you to give something away that cost you dearly?  Like forgiveness, or love, or money, or control?  When is the last time you heard Jesus ask you to step out and go to a place that was unfamiliar, or new, or frightening?  When is the last time you heard Jesus calling you to be a peacemaker in this world of violence, hate, racism, and trouble?  Have you heard that call?

            I love my neatly arranged, well-ordered world.  But sometimes God shows up and throws it out of kilter.  When that happens I have a couple of options: first, I can work really hard to ignore that voice, to pretend that nothing happened, and if something did happen it has nothing to do with God in my life.  If I can do that many times the voice will fade away.  Or, I can try to put everything back into the order I find most comforting.  Or, I can listen, live in the changed reality, follow, and allow God to use me.  I must admit, the third option is the scariest, but it is also the place of blessing, and satisfaction, and true peace.

            May God bless you with the disruption of His Advent during this Holy Season.

Waiting

There are not many things in my life that require me to wait.  I can order a book from Amazon, it will be on my front porch in two days, free shipping, and as soon as the transaction is processed I can read it instantly on my phone.  No waiting.  In my study at church I have a Keurig Coffee Machine.  All I have to do is drop in a pod, press the button, and within seconds I have a great cup of coffee.  No waiting.  I can access almost any piece of music on my iPhone and instantly listen to a wide variety of musicians perform the selection.  No waiting.  I can immediately get in touch with my children, wife, family members, and friends by texting.  No waiting.  I have an app on my phone that will give me directions to any location in the world, and if traffic is backed up for any reason the app will automatically re-route me so that I don’t have to wait in stopped traffic.

            Our world, with its technology, has eliminated many of the things that at one time caused us to wait.  In many ways this is a tremendous blessing.  No one likes to wait for coffee, and what a joy it is to access music without going to a store or waiting for a concert.  But this “immediate” world can cause us to think that all things should happen on our schedule, exactly when we want it, and that we should not have to wait for anything.

            Our world has already jumped to Christmas.  There was no waiting, no patience, the culture simply jumped to the holiday full force.  But if Christmas means the Coming of the Holy One, of God with Us, we people of faith know that God does not work on our immediate schedule.  God rarely comes when we’re expecting Him, more often than not God moves in ways that require us to practice patience and faith. God works on God’s schedule, and for us that means waiting with attentive hearts.

            This Sunday we begin the season of Advent.  For us Baptists we begin catching a foretaste of Christmas during the Advent season, but as we slowly light each candle of the Advent Wreath we are reminded that for ages God’s people waited for the coming Messiah.  This also means that we often have to wait for God.

            I could readily name several things for which I’m waiting on God.  Things that I continue to pray about and carry before God, and God has not yet come for me in these places.  Sometimes it would be easy to give up, to despair, and to try to take matters in my own hands.  But I know that for ages and ages God’s people have waited, and even though they didn’t know when it would happen, God came.

            These Advent Sundays are as important for me this year as they ever have been, and I know that for many in our May Memorial family there are important for them too. 

            Be patient, pray, cry out, keep watch, be alert, for God will come. 

Attitude of Gratitude

Several years ago it was the coldest day of the year and our heat stopped working.  I went out to assess the situation by taking a look at the condenser, and soon realized that the only thing colder than that day was the thick layer of ice that wrapped around the metal box that was supposed to be providing heat for my family and me.  When the HVAC technician finally showed up and I asked how he was, he looked at me and replied, “brother, I’m blessed beyond all that I ever deserve.”

It occurs to me that there are many ways to approach life in this world.  There are different perspectives with which people may choose to view their lives, circumstances, and general place in life, and when I am at my best I choose to approach life as a blessed child of God, blessed beyond all that I deserve.  Many in our world choose to approach life as a victim, and some face the world with a sense of entitlement.  For others, luck seems to play a big part of their worldview, and there are still those who take their cues from A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh character Eor, an eternal pessimist who always has a sense of impending doom.  While I am prone to all of these, in my heart of hearts I believe that we are all blessed by God beyond all that we deserve.

I have a devotional book that offers me a short thought each day, and on many days at the end of the reflection I jot down a list of things that I am grateful for that day.  It is a simple exercise that sets my world in perspective.  In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I offer to you one a short list of what I am thankful for today:

I am thankful for my wife of almost 26 years,

            who I can’t imagine doing life without,

            who reminds me of things that are most important,

            and who I still would choose to spend my time with before anybody else.

I am thankful for my three wonderful daughters;

that family is important to them,

that they each have unique gifts,

and that they are fiercely independent and strong.

I am thankful for my church family at May Memorial;

I am thankful for my parents and my wife’s parents,

            that they made us go to church as children—even when it wasn’t fun,

            that they sent us to college and expected us take responsibility for ourselves when we became adults and were married.

I am thankful that this year’s election is over, and that all the signs are down, especially mine.

I am thankful for my home,

            that it is warm and safe,

            that it faces east so the sun shines in the front windows in the morning,

            and that I don’t have to act like a pastor there;

I am thankful that I have all I need, and so much more;

I am thankful God gives me things for free that I could never afford…

            like the joy of sitting by a fire in my yard with my family,

            and the wonder of a sunset over the ocean on summer vacation.

I am thankful for the people that I have met that I would have never sought out and the things I learned from them;

I am thankful that I have not found it necessary to take a drink today, or for many years, just to make it through.

I am thankful for the painful experiences that taught me things I would have never learned without them;

I am thankful for music and people who compose or perform it,

            like Johnny Cash, Jackson Browne, Bruce Springsteen, and Doc Watson,

            and Vaughan Williams, J.S. Bach, Morten Lauridsen,

Herbert Howells, and C. V. Stanford.

This week leading to Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful, and when we stop to consider it just for a moment, aren’t we all blessed?  Aren’t we all blessed beyond all that we deserve?

Not a “Pastoral Clinician”

When I was a hospital chaplain I listened in on a conversation one day about a pastor who had come to visit one of his parishioners.  The conversation was between the Director of Pastoral Care at the Hospital and a nurse.  I don’t remember how the nurse had noticed the pastor’s presence in the unit, but she was upset that the patient and family were more emotionally distraught after the visit than they were before.  It was not that the pastor said something harmful or rude during the visit.  It wasn’t even that the pastor was honest about a health condition that the patient and family were avoiding facing.  The problem with the pastor’s visit was that he was cold, unattached, and uncaring for the patient and family.  He may have said all of the right words, and he probably offered a prayer at the end of the visit.  He simply acted like he didn’t care.  At the end of the conversation the Director of Pastoral Care told the nurse that this man was really not a pastor, he was a pastoral clinician.

            I’ve never forgotten the phrase “pastoral clinician.”  It connotes a person who has all of the education, experience, and external qualifications to be a pastor but does not have a heart that cares for people.  There are many things that can be learned in a seminary classroom, and experience teaches us a lot.  But I don’t know if any amount of education or experience can teach a man or a woman to care for people.

            As your pastor, I care about you deeply.  My care for the members of our church family is not out of obligation or responsibility, but is based in my love and the place each member of our church family has in my heart.  I do not watch someone’s joy or sorrow and stand by unaffected.  My heart rejoices when yours rejoices, and my heart breaks when yours is breaking.

            I care about you…when you face health challenges,

            I care about you…when your family is in conflict,

            I care about you…when you are away from church,

            I care about you…when someone close to you has died.

            I care about you…when someone has hurt you,

            I care about you…when you are discouraged,

            I care about you…when you are waiting anxiously for news that could be good or bad.

            I care about you…when you take a step forward in faith,

            I care about you…when you watch your child who has grown up leave for the first time.

            I care about you…when you fall in love and are married,

            I care about you…when you are scared to death because a new baby has come to your house.

            I care about you…when you question your faith,

            I care about you…when you’ve done about all you can do and have to give it to God.

            Speaking honestly, I’m a little embarrassed that tears come to my eyes as quickly as they do.  It is not that I’m an over-emotional person.  I also understand that pastors must guard against becoming overly-emotional so that a person who is in need feels that they must care for the pastor instead of the pastor caring for them.  But the tears that come to my eyes remind me that I am not a “pastoral clinician.”  I am a pastor, and I count it a gift that I care for each member of our church family.  It is not something that I have to “work on,” and it is not something that I had to decide to do.  I simply do.  Know this: you are cared for by your pastor.

Third Core Value: We Are a Part of a Larger Christian Family

I love Jerry Clower.  Jerry Clower was a Christian, a Baptist, a southerner, but most people who know of Jerry Clower know him as a comedian.  When I was a little boy my parents took me to see Jerry Clower, he did a show in a huge tobacco warehouse in Goldsboro, NC, not far from where I grew up.  (There is probably nothing more “North Carolina” that going to see Jerry Clower in a tobacco warehouse)  Many of his stories, while hilarious, often convey important truths.  This is not exactly a story, but when Jerry Clower talks about his mother, he would always want to tell how she felt about “prayer in the public schools,”  and he quoted his mother to say, “I’m FOR prayer in the public schools, as long as there is a Baptist leading the prayer.”  That statement always draws a big laugh, and if you think about it, it has several implications.  But one of the implications is that Baptists have a superior, or at least a preferred place.  Of course, Jerry Clower was implying that that wasn’t the case, that his mother was being a little narrow.

Ecumenism is one of my, and I think May Memorial’s, core values.  We see value in working and worshiping together with other Christian Churches in our community.  While I am a Baptist, and I embrace Baptist distinctives, I see that we are a part of a larger Christian communion that is called the Universal Church.  May Memorial started over one hundred years ago worshiping as an ecumenical community, each week a pastor would come to preach and lead worship, and those pastors represented different denominations.  Eventually we chose to be Baptist, but we remember that in our beginnings we were ecumenical.

Many of those who join May Memorial even now come from other denominations: Presbyterian, Lutheran, and especially Methodist.  If a person professes faith in Jesus Christ and has received Christian Baptism, they are welcome to join May Memorial Church.  Some of my favorite events and gatherings through the year are with other pastors and churches in our community.  We are an ecumenical bunch, and I am blessed by spending time with Christians from other churches and denominations.

This is one of my core values, my deep beliefs as I practice my faith.  I do not want to be isolated from other Christians, because I know I am part of something much bigger than our individual church.  We are a part of Christ’s Church, and His Church encompasses all of the faithful, of all time, all places, and all Christian denominations.

Second Core Value: Walk the Walk

When I was a kid my family had a pop-up camper.  It was very basic, no a/c, two large “beds” that pulled out at each end after the roof was “popped up,” and then a “kitchen table” that lowered into another bed.  We went from one end of North Carolina to the other with that camper.  I remember camping in Cherokee, in western NC, and at Holiday Travel Park in Emerald Isle, NC.  I loved going camping.  I also remember the day my dad sold that camper.  After years it was not in good condition, and I watched my dad talking to the man who came to look at it.  My dad showed him ALL of the problems with it.  The man, after hearing my dad being brutally honest, said to my dad “you must be a ‘church man’.”  Even as a kid I knew the reason that man said that.  My dad was honest, he didn’t try to unload a used camper and hide all of the problems.  And by “church man,” that man really meant Christian.

My second core value as a Christian and a pastor is tied directly to how we live outside of the walls of the church.  Our ethics and behavior as Christians is most important.  Sure, our doctrine is important.  Our worship is important.  Hymns are important.  But nothing is more important than living out the Kingdom Values that Jesus taught us.  We are to live lives that are holy, moral, honest, and righteous.  The things that we are called to do as Christians: compassion, kindness, humility, missions, hospitality, truth-telling, honoring our promises, etc.  The things we are called to not do: harm others, be dishonest, cheat, covet, hate, be unfaithful to our spouse, etc.  Being faithful to these is very important.  We are not loved more by God when live according to these, and we’re not loved less when we fall short.  But, this is what we aspire to.

In my observation, the “Presbyterian Gift” to Christianity is thoughtful doctrine, creeds that point out what we should believe.  The “Lutheran Gift” is hymnody.  Hymn singing.  I love singing with the Lutherans.  The “Anglican Gift” is worship.  They have given Christianity the Book of Common Prayer.  The “Pentecostal Gift” is the fire of the Spirit.  But Baptists, it seems to me, is the denomination tradition that starts with the ethics of our living.  How we behave and conduct ourselves in our personal lives and in our work together as a church must reflect the ethics and love of Jesus.  And we can only understand our faith by practicing it.

Jesus, when calling disciples, didn’t say “believe this set propositions,” he said “follow me.”  Walk the way I walk, talk the way I talk, behave the way I behave.  “Follow what I do.”  And that is how we know the faith, by following in the ways of Jesus.

There is a lot I’m concerned about that happens within the walls of our church.  Good worship.  Engaging Sunday school.  Authentic fellowship.  Our church government should be done “decently and in order.”  But, for me, none of that is as important as how we live in the way of Jesus outside of our building.

My second core value: the practice of our faith as a community is primary.  How we live as followers of Jesus is where the rubber meets the road.  It is most important.

First Core Value: It's All About Jesus

I still have my first Bible.  I may have had earlier children’s Bibles that I would flip through the pages to find the pictures, but my first study Bible was a Christmas gift from my parents when I was about 13 years old.  Even though I no longer use that Bible for daily reading or in worship, I wouldn’t take anything for it.  I remember how I felt when I unwrapped that box on Christmas morning and saw “Scofield Study Bible, King James Version” on the outside, and then when I opened the box and saw my name embossed in gold on the cover.  I knew that I had been given something very important.

That Bible had at least two things in common with most of the Bibles I came across in those days.  First, it was a King James translation, and second, it was a red letter edition.  I don’t see red letter Bibles as much now, but when I was a child I knew exactly what it meant.  When reading through the gospels, when the text came to a place where Jesus was speaking, the color of the text changed from black to red.  This let the reader know that the words in red weren’t spoken by a pharisee, or a disciple, or an apostle, those words were spoken by Jesus.  And even though I knew that every word of the Bible was important, those words in red, well, they demanded my full attention.  These words, and those texts about Jesus, still demand my full attention.  They demand my all.

This is my first core value:  It’s all about Jesus.

Jesus is “the way, the truth, and the life.”

In Jesus, God is redeeming all things to himself.

Jesus was executed by the government on a cross, and God raised him from the dead on the third day.  This is a bold claim, but I believe it with 100% of my being, and it is the most important thing I believe.

Jesus is the truest picture of God that we have.  When we want to know what God is like, we look to this Palestinian Jew who was born to the virgin Mary and walked the dusty roads between Galilee and Jerusalem.

Jesus is Lord, which means that everyone else is not.  Even if you sit in the Governor’s Mansion, the Oval Office, or in any other place of power, you are not lord. It doesn’t matter who you are, you do not get my allegiance.  Jesus is Lord.  Be still and know that I am God (not Pharaoh, or the Emperor, or the Governor, or the President), Yahweh is my shepherd.

Jesus is our example in how we should live.

The teachings of Jesus (the red letters) are the most important teachings we have, and they should command our attention and obedience.

All Scripture is to be interpreted in light of Jesus, and when I read in the Old Testament that “a woman caught in adultery should be stoned” I must interpret that in light of Jesus’ forgiving the woman caught in adultery, and I must stick with Jesus.  When I read in the Old Testament “an eye for an eye” and then I read Jesus saying “turn the other cheek,” I must go with Jesus.  The canon of scripture is not flat, Scripture must be interpreted through Jesus.  The peak of scripture is Jesus, and to me, at the Sermon on the Mount.  Even though it is all inspired, all scripture is not equally important.

Sometimes it seems that Christians can get sidetracked from Jesus.  And those things that sidetrack us are not bad, they’re just not Jesus.  Sometimes traditions become most important, other times it could be church programs.  In our culture, politics or politicians easily become most important, and politicians love it when Christians blur the line between our true Lord and elected officials.  And sometimes a pastor or popular preacher becomes the most important thing.   Sometimes it could be a building, or a style of worship.  And sometimes it can even be an unhealthy focus on parts of Scripture that are not Jesus, focusing heavily on Old Testament laws and purity culture or focusing solely on Paul’s writings.  And even though some of these are important, and some are very good, it is Christians first calling to look to Jesus.

So, this is my first and most important core value.  It is all about Jesus.

Core Values

Years ago when I started my time as a hospital chaplain at Rex Hospital in Raleigh we spent a few days in training.  There was some training that was specific to chaplains, and then there was training for all new employees.  This was when HIPPA was becoming a part of our healthcare system in the United States, and much of the training was about those regulations.

I specifically remember one session, led by one of the hospital administrators, in which the focus was on the hospital’s “Mission, Vision, and Values.”  It was a very polished and smooth presentation, and this session was applicable to all.  Whether you were a neurosurgeon, a cook, a custodian, a chaplain, or a secretary.  It was important for everyone to be on the same page when it came to the mission, vision, and values for Rex Healthcare and the larger UNC Hospital System.

Those values have been adjusted and changed since I was there, but they still have them.  They now have four values: One Great Team, Carolina Care, Leading the Way, and It Starts with Me.  You can read all about these by clicking here.

Whether we name them or not, we all operate under certain “values.”  They may be good, or they may be not so good, but we work under a set of values.  This is true for individuals, it is true for families, it is true for organizations, businesses, hospitals, and even churches.  Values are the habits, practices, behaviors, and beliefs that define who we are and how we operate.  We all have them.

May Memorial operates by a set of core values, these may be named or unnamed, but we have them.  The things we hold most dear: traditions, behaviors, habits, beliefs, and actions.  And in addition to May Memorial’s values, the pastoral staff also has values.  Foundational beliefs that undergird everything we say and do.  I think there is a great deal of overlap between the pastors’ values and our church’s values, but they are most likely not identical.

Over the next several weeks Pastor Carlisle and I will write in the weekly newsletter about our core values.  Some of these will represent core values of the church, and some of these may be unique to Carlisle and me.

Our values are what make us unique as a church, and you deserve to know what Carlisle and I think is most fundamental and important.  Be sure to notice each week as we reveal these, and consider along with her and I what is most important.

Deacons and Servanthood

In the book of Acts a situation arose in which the apostles were not able to devote themselves to the work of being shepherds because the work of being the Christian community had become overwhelming.  To solve this problem the community appointed deacons to help with the work of the physical needs of the church so the pastors could devote themselves to their work.  The primary work of those early deacons was the serving of food, waiting on tables, so that everyone was served and needs were met.  When we say “deacon,” it is an English transliteration of that Greek word, diakinos, which means servant or slave.

For many Christian traditions the role of deacon has changed and evolved throughout church history, but for Baptists and many other denominations the role is still rooted in the idea of service.  I, along with many others, have never liked the image of a “deacon board” any more than I like the title “reverend” for pastors.  A “board” in 15th century England referred to the table at which the most important people would sit to make decisions.  As time passed the use of the word board was no longer in reference to the actual table, but it referred to the people of status sitting around the table.  Slaves and servants are not invited to sit at positions of power, at board room tables.  This is why I don’t use the phrase “deacon board.”

Our deacons at May Memorial are servants.  They serve the congregation very well, and I thank God for our deacons.  They take care of many “physical needs” in the church, things associated with the opening and closing of the building each week.  Our deacons also prepare for our monthly celebration of the Lord’s Supper.  They fill the cups with juice, bake the break, and set the table.  The deacons support families after a death, especially when we have a funeral or memorial service at which a funeral home staff is not present.  But most importantly, our deacons work to simply make sure the members of our congregation are okay.  They call and check on our homebound members, they call and visit those in the hospital and care facilities, and they deliver “goodie bags” several times a year to those who can’t be present.  This is just a sample of all the things our deacons do, and their servant work at May Memorial is vital.

This Sunday we will ordain four new deacons.  Following the pattern of scripture, we will lay hands upon them, marking that they are set apart for service.  These four are:

Mike Koelzer

Jeanan Krueger

Stephen Shaw

Annie Sparrow

Throughout its history May Memorial has had exemplary lay servants and leaders in the church, and I rejoice that this strong heritage continues through our current diaconate.

Freedom of Speech in Dunkin Doughnuts

It has been a year since I almost got punched in Dunkin Doughnuts.  Laura was starting seventh grade, and I was taking her to Middle School open house when we decided to stop at Dunkin for a doughnut and coffee.  We went inside, ordered, got our food, and sat down in the front part of the restaurant.  As I’m sitting there with my twelve year old daughter there is a group of people, older teenagers and a couple of grown men who had gathered by the doughnut case and were talking loudly enough for everyone to hear.  Their language was awful.  One of the grown men kept using words that I did not feel appropriate for any twelve year old girl to hear.  And then one of the teenage girls starting talking about her pregnancy, how she got that way and how she figured out she was pregnant.  Again, a conversation not appropriate for a doughnut shop, not appropriate for a twelve year old to hear.

I didn’t say anything to Laura, but by the way she kept lowering her eyes I knew she heard and was embarrassed by what was being said.  I got up from my seat, I walked up to the group, and I told them that I was there with my twelve year old daughter and their language and conversation was not appropriate for that public dining room.  The pregnant teenager was apologetic, which I appreciated.  The grown man, who I assumed was embarrassed that I had called him out for his vulgar language in front of his friends, became furious.  He starting talking about “it is a free country” and that he was “tired of people trying to take away his freedom of speech, one of his first amendment rights.”  He stood nose to nose with me.  He was angry.  One of the other men finally took him by the arm and calmed him down.  Everyone else apologized, and yes, they cleaned up their language and conversation, and I sat back down with Laura and with trembling hands finished my blueberry doughnut and coffee.

I’ve thought about this for a year now, and Laura loves to tell the story.  I still wonder if I should have just left rather of saying something, or, if I did the right thing by speaking up.

When I remember this encounter my mind always goes to a couple of ideas.  First, our culture at large has lost a great deal of decency, respect, and modesty.  It can be disheartening.  And we, as God’s people, are called to be examples of what a good, holy, respectable life looks like.  And sometimes our Christian calling is a call to speak up, especially for the sake of our children.  There are sins of commission, things we do, and sins of omission, things we should do and fail to do.  Too often it is easy to simply remain silent, to not speak up for what is decent in our community.

Second, I have chuckled this year at that man’s insistence of his “freedom of speech” and how I was attempting to violate “his rights” in Dunkin Doughnuts.  He was convinced that he needed to speak his profanity-laced monologue, and that he had a right to loudly say it so that everyone else could hear.  And for many in our world, the “right” to do or say something has become the determining factor in their moral decision making process.  But for Christians, there are many things that are legal, things that we have the legal right to do, but nevertheless should not be a part of our speech and behavior.  Just because it is legal doesn’t mean that it is right. As God’s children, we are not seeking to do those things that are only legally permissible, but to be salt and light as we model how Jesus behaved and treated others.

This morning a friend sent me a Priscilla Shirer quote: “We are not called to do what makes us happy.  We are called to do what glorifies God.  Christianity isn’t always sunshine and happiness.  It’s hard work and dedication to him, not us.”  And sometimes we are called to speak up in Dunkin Doughnuts.

Eyes to See

There is a story in the Gospels in which Jesus restores the sight of a man born blind.  It is a great miracle, but it is the conversation and conflict that the healing provokes that takes up most of the story.  There is a dispute as to whether the man is truly the one who was born blind, so his parents are asked, and they insist that the religious leaders “ask him!”  The story concludes with the “born-blind-but-now-seeing-man” telling the religious leaders that they are the ones who cannot see.  It is a great story (you can read it in John 9), and it prompts us to consider what we see and what we don’t see.

Earlier this summer at the conference I attended in Montreat, the preacher did something each day in worship that has stuck with me.  Now, I must admit that at every conference I attend  there are always things that I like (agree with) and things I don’t like (rub me the wrong way).  But, 99% of the time there are several things that stick in my mind for a long time.  Such was the case with Montreat this summer.  Here’s what I’ve been carrying with me.

Every day in worship the preacher, at some point, would pull out a pair of bright red, heart-shaped, costume glasses and she would make a huge deal about putting them on.  She would talk about things that we see and things we don’t see.  She exhorted us to keep our glasses on, to fix our eyes, so that we may see God at work in our midst.  She would put the glasses on at the beginning of the sermon, and she would put them on when she gave the benediction.  This practice caused me to consider, how often do I see God at work around me?  I know that God is always at work, but how often do I see it, notice it, realize it is happening in my midst?  The problem is not an absence of God, the problem is that I don’t have my “glasses” on to see it.

It is easy to see all of the bad in our world.  It is all around us.  As the hymn writer says “and though the wrong is oft so strong…”. And I get so focused on the wrong that I simply miss seeing God at work.  “Here is an amazing thing,” that healed man says in John 9, “that you are a religious leader and you do not see…”

A strange thing happened through that week in Montreat.  By Tuesday morning, the preacher wasn’t the only one with the red heart-shaped glasses.  I noticed that when the children’s choir stood to sing, a couple of elementary age kids had their own pairs of glasses.  A youth would go to the pulpit and read scripture with their own pair.  The Routley Lecturer, when he led the hymn festival, he was wearing a pair.  More and more people were wearing red heart-shaped glasses, reminders to themselves and others, that God is working and those with eyes to see will see it.

That is the church.  A group of people with their eyes open to seeing God at work in their midst and in the world.  Put your glasses on.  Keep your eyes open.  God is at work.

Windshield or Rearview Mirror?

Early this past Spring I had a conversation with my 13 year-old-daughter riding home from softball practice.  She was frustrated with her play on the field during practice that night.  She had just moved up an age division, and the competition had become much more intense.  She had had a rough night, and it had been a bumpy start to the season.  I asked her, “which is bigger, the windshield or the rearview mirror?”  “Here we go again,” she though, “another lesson from dad the preacher.”  She wouldn’t say anything, so I answered for her.  “Of course the windshield is much bigger than the rearview mirror.”  Do you know why?  She finally responded, “because you need to see where you’re going more than what is behind you.”  Exactly right.  Of course I was trying to tell her to spend more time thinking about the next practice, the next game, the next time she put her glove on her hand.

I recently read a piece from another pastor who used the same illustration.  Peter Marty even measured his windshield and rearview mirror.  His rearview mirror, he says, is 9 inches by 2 inches, and his windshield is 5 feet by 3 feet.  He says this is because “drivers benefit from having an optimal view of where they’re headed.”

It is easy to spend time looking in the rearview mirror.  Considering and rehashing mistakes, successes, fights, failures, struggles, wins, hurts, and joys, all visible in the rearview mirror.  And, there is value in looking at where we have been.  But we should spend the vast majority of our time looking where we are going.  Individuals and churches can spend so much time gazing into the rearview mirror.  Remembering what has been, good and bad, and spending little time looking to where we are going.

By all accounts most churches have had a tough couple of years since the beginning of the COVID pandemic.  Specifically, May Memorial has had a bumpy couple of years.  Pandemic, regathering, more pandemic, heating boiler breakdown and no heat, and then a serious staff issue.  Bumpy is an understatement.  And even in the midst of these bumps, there have been great joys and blessings.  The joy of fellowship and community, missions (Just Kids!), baptisms, new members, new staff members, and the steadfast presence of God leading and speaking.  These are great joys.  And it is always easy to keep looking back.  To the “good old days,” or the “bad old days.”  To spend our time in the “remember whens.”

The call is to keep our eyes looking through the windshield, to what lies ahead, to where we are going.  Yes, glance in the rearview mirror, considering wonderful memories and learned lessons, but our eyes should be focused on what God has in store.

Paul puts it this way, “My friends, I don't feel I have already arrived. But I forget what is behind, and I struggle for what is ahead. I run toward the goal, so I can win the prize of being called to heaven.”

As a church, as individuals, let us look ahead, let us run toward the goal.  When we look through our windshield we see that God is at work, and the incredible good news is that we can join Him in that work.

The Memory of Old Jack

Whenever I am away for Continuing Education or vacation I find great joy in spending time reading.  Over the past few weeks I read a few books, and in my next several newsletter articles I’d like to mention a couple of those.

For several years I have loved the Port William novels of Wendell Berry, in which he describes the lives, stories, loves, work, and faith of the members of the Port William “fellowship.”  I highly recommend all of the novels from the Port William series.

In The Memory of Old Jack, readers are able to spend with Jack Beacham the last day of his life.  He is a man in his 80’s, he has moved away from the farm where he spent his life, and on that last day he spends it working through the important memories of his life.  He remembers the day that his brothers leave to fight for the Confederacy, never to return.  He remembers the day in church when he is “stricken” with the beauty of the woman who is to be his wife.  He remembers working on his farm, paying off debt, and his fight with his farm-hand.  He remembers his failed marriage, his affair, the birth of his daughter, and the death of his mistress and eventually his wife.  He remembers his daughter marrying and moving away to the city, forsaking the simple farm life that was so important to Jack.

Old Jack’s story is filled with good and bad, strength and struggle, virtue and sin.  And, Wendell Berry tells it in a way that is beautiful, a way that causes me to read and re-read words, phrases, sentences, and paragraphs.  But what becomes most clear is that Old Jack’s life is much like mine, and like yours.  It is a mixture of good and bad, and even with the bad, it is a life worth remembering.

As Jack remembers his years as a young man and farming his fields, there are things about the “modern world” that he just can’t understand.  He can’t understand why our nation would tax and spend millions on developing bombs that have the power to wipe out hundreds and thousands of humans.  He also can’t understand the “modern” notion that people have, believing they shouldn’t have to work in order to eat.  He just can’t believe that people would have that assumption.  Because Jack was a man who could see a direct link between the land, the hard work of farming, and providing for himself and his family.

Old Jack dies in the old Port William hotel, it had been converted for “permanent residents,” the elderly who would go there to never leave.  Old Jack called it the “Port William airport,” where he was waiting to take his final journey to the heavens.  The preacher had strict orders for the graveside service, “only read these three Psalms, nothing less, nothing more.”  The preacher almost stuck to his orders, and that rural community laid Old Jack to rest.  But his memory, in the mind of Wendell Berry and for those who pick up this gem of a book, continues to touch, heal, move, and spark the thoughts of what it means to be human and faithful to the places we call home.

Worshiping at Montreat

  There are not many times when a pastor gets to worship without leading worship.  I know, I know, leading worship has worshiping “built in,” but there is a difference.  When I preach I too, in a strange way, am also a hearer of the sermon; when I pray publicly during worship I am giving voice to my personal praise, confessions, and petition; when I read scripture I am also listening for God’s Word “for me today”; and certainly when I sing hymns I am offering my praise to God just as anyone else in the sanctuary.  But all things considered, there is a difference.  When a pastor leads worship there is always the thought of what is next, how to make a transition, how long to pause during silent prayers, how to read a text so the story is understandable, and how to have a reverent pace while not dragging the energy out of a time of worship.  These things and more are always before a pastor when he or she is leading worship, and I enjoy taking part in all of these and trying to get them all “just right.”

            But sometimes I like, I need, to simply worship.  To be able to sing a hymn and not think about my prayer that comes at the end of it.  To be able to help one of my children locate the scripture text in her Bible because I am sitting beside her.  To think about a Bible story and be able to turn to read it during the children’s sermon.  To let my mind wander, to miss something in the liturgy, to allow God to guide my thoughts to something that hasn’t been said out loud, to count the number of chandeliers in the sanctuary, to quietly protest what the preacher is saying, and to wrestle with the text for the day.  I like to be able to pray about my personal prayer requests while the pastor is leading a prayer, to sing without people looking at me, and most of all I love to be served at the table as a follower of Jesus.

            Sometimes I need to worship without leading worship, but those times are few in the life of a pastor.  While these times are few, I do find opportunities throughout the year.

            One of the ways I am able to worship without leading worship is the one week a year when my family and I attend a conference in the beautiful little village of Montreat.  This coming Sunday we will go to Montreat, and it is the 22nd year Beverley and I are attending the Worship and Music Conference at Montreat.  I don’t know what I would do without it.  In addition to the many classes and seminars that are held throughout the day there is an eleven o’clock worship service each morning in which nearly 1,000 pastors, musicians, and church members assemble in a beautiful stone auditorium for excellent music, creative praise, and wonderful sermons.  Each night there are different offerings: a hymn festival, an organ concert, a choral concert, and additional worship services.  Over the years this week has became the highlight of my year.

            When I first went to Montreat in 2000 it was not much of a place to me, it was just another little mountain community among many.  It was much like that place that Jacob came upon in the middle of the night in Genesis when he was running for his life from Esau.  But much like Jacob, I now look back and realize that “I didn’t even know it, but this is the house of God.”  That is what the word Bethel means, house of God. 

            There is a hike my family and I take every year while at Montreat called Lookout Mountain.  It takes us about 90 minutes and at the top is a rock outcropping from which you can see down to Montreat and out toward Asheville.  It reminds me of the Biblical language used to describe that first Bethel in Genesis, a high place, set apart with stones.  Jacob took one of those stones, anointed it with oil, and named it Bethel.  I thank God for my “Bethels,” they are all over the place—at May Memorial each week, at Christ the King once or twice a month, and yearly at Montreat.  What an amazing thing—these have truly turned out to be the house of God, and I didn’t even know it.

Inviting Beverley to Vacation Bible School

When my wife, Beverley, was in kindergarten at Brogden Primary School in Dudley, NC, her teacher’s assistant attended a local Baptist Church.  The end of the school year was quickly approaching, and that teacher’s aid’s Baptist Church was gearing up for Vacation Bible School.  The teacher’s assistant invited Beverley to attend her church’s VBS where she taught a class, and Beverley’s parents were happy to take her each day.  As a result of that Vacation Bible School, Beverley, her mom, and her dad, all professed faith in Christ and were baptized.

That event in their lives made an indelible mark on them.  Beverley’s dad would become a faithful worshiper, a deacon, and a member of the Building Committee that oversaw the construction of a new sanctuary.  Beverley’s mom became a faithful worshiper, taught a children’s Sunday school class, served as a Girls in Action Leader, and helped with just about every social gathering in their church.

Beverley’s parents, primarily her mom, also saw to it that Beverley was taken each week to piano lessons, given by the organist at Goldsboro’s First Presbyterian Church.  And, when Beverley was in middle school, her mom “volunteered” her to be the church’s assistant pianist.  A couple of years later she became the official church pianist.  She continued to play the piano at Emmaus Baptist through her time as a Music Education major in college, and after college graduation and a two year stint as a high school band director, she returned to graduate school for organ and Church Music.  Since then she has served as organist and director of music in several different churches from Wilmington, NC, to Richmond, VA.

I tell this story not to brag on my wife and her parents (maybe to brag just a little), but because this story reminds me of how important a simple invitation to Vacation Bible School can be.  That one teacher’s aid in my wife’s Kindergarten classroom, by offering that kind invitation, changed the course of Beverley’s family’s life, and in turn through Beverley’s ministry it has continued to touch lives through hymns, anthems, preludes, weddings, and funerals, even until now.  It was simply a kind, natural, low-pressure invitation, and five years later that teacher’s aid probably didn’t even remember inviting Beverley or teaching her VBS class.  It was a simple invitation to a simple, traditional, old-fashioned Vacation Bible School, but in God’s hands it was a tool to bring about His plan for Christ’s Church.

God is in the business of taking ordinary things and using them in extraordinary ways.  In God’s economy, sometimes multiplication happens when we only expect addition, and it comes in ways that we never expect.

May Memorial is currently in the planning phase of our Vacation Bible School.  As always, it will be the traditional, Monday-Thursday morning event filled with crafts, Bible Stories, recreation, music, snacks, and a lot of fun.  Volunteers are needed, and I wonder, will you allow a simple action to be used by God in an extraordinary way?  Who knows?  Who knows what God will do through you!

Heaven Shall Not Wait and Just Kids

Heaven Shall Not Wait

            John Bell is a Scottish Presbyterian, a hymn writer and preacher.  He is a member of the Iona Community, an ecumenical Christian Community that attracts pilgrims from around the world.  John Bell was the preacher one summer when my family and I were at Montreat, and when he entered worship and stood to preach he always did so barefoot.  When asked why, he told us that he knew that he was standing on holy ground.  

            John Bell wrote a hymn text and tune a few years ago titled “Heaven Shall Not Wait.”  Each stanza begins with that phrase, “heaven shall not wait,” and then it goes on to describe the things that our hearts yearn for, that we normally imagine happening when God comes at the consummation of the age and sets everything “to rights.”

            We love to think of a coming day when wrongs will be made right and all things set straight, but in his hymn, John Bell proclaims that “heaven shall not wait,” for Jesus is Lord now and has already ushered in His Kingdom.  This reflects an “already/not yet” reality that is foundational to our faith.

It seems to be a characteristic of established congregations to “move slowly,” and sometimes even to talk things “to death.”  A wise retired pastor told me one time that the older the congregation the slower it will move and change.  And he was right.  But sometimes, we must not wait.

Yesterday afternoon our youth met in the youth house and cleared out space for our new “Just Kids” clothing ministry.  As a part of this work the youth arranged their space in the largest room in the youth house, and it looks wonderful.  The team that is leading this ministry has been working hard and they have not wasted any time.  Sophie, our middle daughter, is serving on this team, and I don’t know that I have ever seen her so excited about something at church.  The entire team’s energy is contagious.  They will not wait.  That is what happens when God’s people see a need in the community and catch a vision of what God is calling us to do.

As I have felt the excitement from the Just Kid’s Team, my thoughts have been drawn to the hymn, Heaven Shall Not Wait.  This is a great recording of the hymn, led by Tom Trenney, another Montreat Conference regular, at his church in Lincoln, Nebraska.

I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light

Over the next few weeks I am going to share some of the songs, hymns, or anthems that are meaningful to me, not just musically, but spiritually.  There are many songs and hymns that I have carried with me for many years, that I continue to listen to, think about, and sing, which move my heart and mind.  The first hymn that I would like to share is I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light.

Quite often the hymns we sing have two sources.  First, there is the text writer, the author.  This is the person who writes the words of the hymn.  Second is the composer of the tune, the melody (and maybe even the harmony) which gives the musical line to the hymn.  Frequently the text has a name (many times it is simply the first line of the text), and the tune also has a name.  In our bulletin each Sunday the tune name is printed in upper case letters on the right side of the page.  Once in a while, the same person writes both text and tune, as is the case with I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light.

Kathleen Thomerson is an organist, hymn writer, and university professer who has served churches and taught in Missouri, Illinois, and Texas.  While she was visiting The Church of the Redeemer in Houston in 1966 she was inspired to write this text, and paired it with her tune, titled HOUSTON.  This simple yet beautiful hymn has been sung by churches around the world, and appears in many hymnals.  This recording is the congregation and choir of First-Plymouth Church in Lincoln, Nebraska, directed and accompanied by Tom Trenney.  

The hymn is simply beautiful, and this recording of it is moving.  And I love it in part because of the simple, short statements, several of which begin with “I want…”. 

I want to walk as a child of the light

I want to follow Jesus

I want to look at Jesus

I want to be with Jesus

The Biblical image of “the light that shines in the darkness” also echos  throughout the hymn, in both the stanzas and the refrain, and the hymn ends with the prayer “shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.”

This is a hymn that I find myself singing many times as I ride down the road, as I hear it come up on my Apple Music Playlist, and each time it brings me hope and encouragement.

I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light

HOUSTON

Text and Music by Kathleen Thomerson

1.  I want to walk as a child of the light

I want to follow Jesus

God sent the stars to give light to the world

The star of my life is Jesus

Refrain:

In Him, there is no darkness at all

The night and the day are both alike

The Lamb is the light of the city of God

Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus

2.  I want to see the brightness of God

I want to look at Jesus

Clear sun of righteousness, shine on my path

And show me the way to the Father

3.  I’m looking for the coming of Christ

I want to be with Jesus

When we have run with patience the race

We shall know the joy of Jesus

Favorite Hymns

There are hymns that I love for objective reasons.  I could spend all day talking about the “why’s” and “why nots” about these hymns.  I normally don’t like hymns with repetitive refrains.  I generally don’t like hymns that the music relies on only three chords (I, IV, and V chords).  I also don’t normally care for hymns that are in compound meter: give me a sturdy 4/4 or even 3/4 meter.  I really dislike hymns in which the text and tune don’t “match.”  Some hymns take a serious, somber topic, such as the cross, and pair it with a tune that is too “light” or even flippant.  This happens in “At the Cross,” the one that takes Isaac Watts’ hymn “Alas and Did My Savior Bleed” (a great hymn), pairs it with a lighthearted tune, and then adds a refrain ending with “and now I’m happy all the day!”  Singing about the cross and my sinfulness makes me many things, but flippantly “happy” is not one of them.  As I said, I could go on and on about this.

But, in the end, my favorite hymns end up not being my favorites because of objective criteria.  My favorites don’t ultimately rest on the depth of the text or the complexity of the tune and chord progressions.  My favorite hymns normally are the ones that we sing well.  And this past Sunday, we sang Because He Lives very well.  I was moved by the singing of the hymn, and I was moved when I saw how so many in our church were moved by singing it.  Sometimes something happens above the notes, rhythms, and text, and our minds and hearts are moved.  Such was the singing of Because He Lives this past Sunday.

It was a holy moment among many holy moments in worship this past Sunday.

When our daughters were little we would always leave for summer vacation on Sundays.  Beverley and I would pack the car early on Sunday morning, head to church, and then we would be ready to pull out as soon as worship was over.  Our girls would be brimming with excitement, they were ready to go.  They would ask me, “daddy, how long is your sermon?”  I would tell them.  Then they would ask, “can we just sing the hymns and then leave?”  Meaning: let’s just skip the sermon.  Of course I never did.  But I always thought, there are some days that I could leave church, skipping the sermon, and the hymns have been enough.  For me, this past Sunday, we could have just sung the hymns.

Thank you for singing so well.