Time with Our Children

Summer was coming to an end before I returned to college for my Sophomore year, and due partly to bad luck and partly to my own actions I was burned badly when water and coolant erupted from my car’s radiator.  An ambulance carried me to the hospital, where I stayed for several days with severe burns.  Days at home were filled with trips to physical therapy, and it became clear that I was going to need some accommodations for me to begin that year of college.

My dad was able to take time off of work, and he went with me for my first couple of weeks to begin that second year.  We stayed in a small apartment together, provided by the university, and in addition to attending classes my dad would take me to physical therapy each day.  I remember those days well.  But what I remember most were the things we did outside of my classes and physical therapy.  One day when my schedule was free, we drove up into the mountains of North Carolina together.  We also ate great meals.  I still remember the night we went to to a local steakhouse, the kind where the waiter brings the entire loin to your table for you to choose your cut.  I remember those as challenging days, but looking back I also remember that time spent together with my dad.  When it was happening I really didn’t see it that way, until the day came for him to leave.  Both he and my mom were concerned about me and my continued healing from the accident, and before he left he wanted to have a prayer with me.  I remember nothing about that prayer except for one line.  He said, speaking to God, “and I thank you for the time I have been able to spend with my son.”

It struck me then as his son, but it touches me even more deeply now as a father.  I heard him then, but I really get it now.

I see this “meme” circulating on Social Media every now and then, saying something like “you only get 10 years (if you’re lucky) of ‘Santa Claus’ with your children…and you only get 18 summers…12 spring breaks…etc.”  The point is that time is limited, so relish…savor…maximize…and value the time you get with your children.

Traveling to Greece is an amazing experience.  Seeing the places that St. Paul preached and lived so that the Gospel of Jesus Christ could spread throughout the world is a powerful thing.  Seeing the Athenian Acropolis, Delphi, Rhodes, Ephesus, Mykonos, and the Meteora Monasteries in Kalambaka is unforgettable.  And, doing all of this with members of our church and community makes it even better.

But, spending this time with your children, it is something to thank God for.

My oldest daughter is graduating college in a few weeks and already has a job in her vocation as a social worker with Child Protective Services in North Carolina, and I am so proud.  The second is halfway through college, is an amazing musician, and in the blink of an eye will be moving on to the “exciting next” in her life, and I am so proud.  The “baby” hasn’t been a “baby” in a LONG time, she has grown into a wonderful young woman.

And I know, spending time with your children, it is something to thank God for.

I understood it as a son, but now I truly get it.

Keep Christ in Easter?

            I pass a house on the way from my home to the church where the family who loves there always places seasonal decorations in their front yard.  At Christmas it is what you would expect: greenery, wreaths, and red bows.  At Valentines there was hearts of red and pink.  At St. Patrick’s there was glittering green clovers, and now it is decorated again.  It looks like an explosion of springtime.  There are eggs, pastel bunnies, and colorful tulips.  It reminds me of my daughter’s spring preschool pictures, which on some years would include a real-live bunny.  Those photos, on a cuteness scale of 1-10, were a strong 11.

I loved those pictures, and I love the springtime decorations I see in yards, because the season of the year that they signal.  The colors, flowers, and even the bunny rabbits indicates that our winter has come to an end and new life is being born.  I love springtime.  To see the greening of the earth, the flowering trees and bushes, even the dusty coat of pollen brings me joy in anticipation of warmer weather, longer days, and summer vacation.  I also love Easter Egg hunts.  This Sunday morning the deacons have planned a wonderful Easter Egg Hunt, and we will watch our children with their baskets in their hand and smiles on their faces as they search for the sugary treats hidden in the church yard.  This reminds me that springtime is here.

            What our culture celebrates this time of the year at the vernal equinox as the earth’s northern hemisphere tilts closer to the sun is a natural occurrence.  Daylight is no longer outmatched by darkness.  The sun has more time to warm the earth.  Sap rises in the trees, buds appear, flowers bloom, and all of God’s creatures experience a lift in spirits.  The earth is fertile, eggs are everywhere, and animals begin to multiply—rabbits being the most proficient at this natural process.

            Most people don’t realize that Christians face the same danger at “Easter” as we face at Christmas—that our faithful celebration of Christ’s resurrection may be overshadowed or “tacked on” to our culture’s celebration of something else.  Even the word “Easter” is a term that came into English from a pagan Germanic goddess named Eostre.  It is easy in this cultural celebration to simply take Christian’s resurrection story and syncretize it with the bunnies, the eggs, the flowers, and springtime.

            But remember, while the greening of the earth is a natural event that we know is coming year after year, the story of God’s resurrection in the world is a totally unnatural event.  A human body is not like a bulb—when it is planted in the ground it is not natural for it to spring forth from the earth—and that is what we celebrate in the Church.  An unnatural truth in which God intercedes in our world to break all natural law in order to bring us new life.

            So please bear with me as I call “the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox” Resurrection Sunday and not Easter.  It is a day of unnatural occurrences, of a story that makes no natural sense, a story that is due only to the fact of God’s miraculous involvement in the world.

My Imaginary Box

I carry with me an imaginary cardboard box.  You haven’t seen it, mainly because it is imaginary, but I try to have it with me all of the time.  It is important that I have it with me because I’ll never know when I’ll need it.  It serves a very important function in my life, and hardly a day passes that I don’t use it.  Sometimes I do have a hard time finding it, normally because I have tendencies that keep me from using it.

I am like you, I face situations every day that cause me stress or anxiety.  Anyone who has children, a job, friends, a body that is susceptible to illness (as we all do), family, bills, a house, a car, or any responsibility will face stress, worry, and anxiety.  The reason we face this potential for worry is that we cannot control all (or any) of the things I just mentioned.  We can do our part, work hard, take responsibility seriously, but at some point we reach a point in which we have done all we can do.  We have done what is “on our side of the street.”  It is when I reach that point that my imaginary box becomes useful.

In my mind’s eye, I take whatever I’m dealing with, I ball it all up as tightly as I can, and I place it in this imaginary box.  By the way, on the front of the box is written “God’s Hands.”  I close the top of the box, I say a prayer, and I leave it there.

If I am honest, I have the habit of taking it back out of the “God’s Hands” box.  I turn it over and over in my mind, and I call that worry.

There are some small things in this box, things as simple as a minor car repair (hoping that it is truly minor).  There are some bigger things in the box.  These often have to do with people, and failing health, and life choices.  There are some things that when I place them in the box they seem to dissolve, and others that have been there for a long time.

Although I’d rather not admit it, often it takes me quite some time to put something in that box.  I normally will spend a few days (or weeks) thinking and persuading and manipulating to the best of my ability.  When this has gone on for more time than I’d like to admit, I reluctantly pull out the imaginary box called “God’s Hands,” I gather it all up, and I place it there.  There it sits alongside many other things in my life over which I have no control.  It is not easy, but I trust that when it is there it will be taken care of.

An interesting thing, and probably the most important thing…up to this point in my life, whenever I have placed something there, God has always done His part.  Not some of the time, not most of the time, but 100% of the time.  I can’t explain it.  Sometimes (most of the time) God takes care of it in a different way than I’d hoped or imagined, but God has always taken care of it.

A Life-Affecting Faith

In my Eastern North Carolina teenage and young adult years, there was a man who meant the world to me.  I looked up to him and I wanted to be like him.  He was very bright, he was “worldly” (in the good sense), he was well informed, and he was talented.  He was well connected in that community, and he was a Christian.  He was a faithful member of a good Baptist Church, and he volunteered his time each Sunday morning to teach Sunday School at a local Fire Station.  He was a pillar of the community.  And he cared about me.  I thought a lot of him.

My friend is now with the Lord, but there are many things I remember about this gentleman that still bring good thoughts to my heart and a smile to my face.  But I remember one comment in particular that causes me a little discomfort.

We were talking about church, about preachers, and how sometimes churches and preachers tend to push agendas that may reflect personal preferences and choices, not biblical or Christian principles.  (And this happens frequently). My friend replied, “I love church, I love my pastor.  It is important to me.  But when the church starts telling me how to live my life we’ll have to part ways.”

On one level I get it.  As Baptists we do believe that each Christian must be faithful to his or her conscience and scripture.  There are choices I make about how I live my life that another Christian may not agree with.  I get that.

But the reason I have remembered that statement is that I believed then, and I still believe, that our faith, following Jesus, affects everything about the living of our lives.  Granted, my friend, if pressed, would have probably said that he looked to Jesus for his life’s example, not to another human.  But his statement just struck me the wrong way.

The Christian Religion cannot and should not be reduced to pietism, Christianity is not simply a moral code.  A practice of Christianity that is consumed with rules and behavioral standards quickly becomes legalistic.  Our faith is a life and world transforming story about God’s work in the world in which God is redeeming all things to Himself through Jesus Christ.

But, our faith should, it must, affect how we live.

It should affect how we live.

And how we talk,

how we speak about others…

It should affect how we forgive (that we should do it AT LEAST 490 times),

and show kindness and compassion.

It should affect how we take care of everything God created,

including our bodies,

and all of the world around us.

It should affect how we keep our vows to our spouses,

and raise our children.

It should cause us never to bring harm to another person,

especially the most vulnerable.

Because of our faith, we should be people of integrity.

Okay, my list could go on and on.  And what I also know is that we all fall short.  I know I do.  But as followers of Jesus we are called to a better way than what we see around us.  Forgiveness is always there, we all need it.  And yes, our faith should affect how we live our lives.

You Can Do this Hard Thing

If any person would come after me, let her deny herself, take up her cross, and follow me.

When I hear Jesus’ call to discipleship in Mark’s gospel my immediate-gut reaction is that I’m never going to measure up.  I just can’t do it, I don’t have what it takes. Jesus, on his way to Jerusalem and a Roman Cross, tells would-be followers that in order to be his disciples we must do something really hard.  Deny.  Take up a cross.  And keep following him.

Carrie Newcomer is a Quaker singer/songwriter, and many of her songs have lyrics with which I easily identify.  One of those songs is called You Can Do this Hard Thing.  I’m a little embarrassed to admit that there have been some days, some mornings, that I have listened to her recording of the song as a little reassurance in the face of what I would be called to do that day.  You can do this hard thing.  On the way to a hospital.  Or the funeral home.  Or a tense meeting.  Or to our sanctuary for another funeral.  You can do this hard thing.  On the way to a college apartment where one of our girls will live for that year.  To my father-in-law’s funeral. Or to my mom’s hospice room.  You can do this hard thing.

If you haven’t been called to “do this hard thing” recently, you are in the minority.  Many (most?) in our church family have repeatedly done hard things over the last years.  For many, “loss” has been the word that best describes life since the beginning of COVID it seems.

But Carrie Newcomer is right.  You can do this hard thing.

When Jesus offers this call to true discipleship, it is not an invitation to a flippant or cheap discipleship.  It is hard.  Living a life that looks like Jesus’ life is not easy.  But Jesus wouldn’t have called us to something that we cannot do.  We can do this hard thing.

Don’t sell yourself short.

You can forgive that person.

You can let go of that grudge or resentment.

You can experience joy after great loss.

You can be merciful.

You can turn the other cheek.

You can be a peacemaker.

You can let go of independence and move where there is more care available.

You can survive that cancer treatment.  You can do it.

You can spend longer beside that hospital bed than you think.

You can turn your worry over to God.  You can do it.

You can…deny yourself, and take up your cross daily, and keep following Jesus.  Even in a culture that has created a false christ who does not demand self-denial, or a cross.  You can do it.

Don’t sell yourself short.

I feel a little like the old SNL character Stuart Smalley admitting this, but often I need the daily reminder that I can do this hard thing.  And maybe you do too.  But you can, you can do it.  You can do hard things.  Carrie Newcomer knows you can, and so does Jesus.

Click here to hear You Can Do this Hard Thing.

Unless a Grain of Wheat Falls to the Ground and Dies...

Several years ago I participated in a BGAV learning group in which a small group pastors from across Virginia met weekly to learn together from our leader and from each other.  The purpose of this year-long peer group was centered around the mission of the churches we served, and how, in a changing world, a church can better serve its community.  After the group got to know each other, one of the first topics that was introduced was the idea of “Creative Destruction.”  The idea was this: churches, businesses, and organizations regularly need to look at their structure and decide what needs to be “destroyed.”

Churches are known for keeping programs and ministries limping along for years, maybe even decades, when it would have been far healthier to simply allow that program to die.  Because when something that has lived out its good life dies, God is in the business of bringing new life in ways we never expected.

This year during the Lenten Season at May Memorial, we’re asking ourselves “what do I want to bury that I may experience new life at Easter.”  This is a recognition that all of us as individuals, and as a church, allow habits, sins, defects, and harmful ways of thinking into our lives.  It is necessary, as followers of Jesus, to take time and examine ourselves, our church, and ask what we need to “destroy,” kill, allow to die, or bury.  In doing this, we know that God brings new life to places where there is death and burial (think Empty Tomb!).

Maybe one of the things we need to consider burying this Lenten Season is the idea that we (or I) are not good enough, not “up to par,” not worthwhile.  Maybe someone has told you (or us) that you just don’t have what it takes, and that you’re not valuable to God.  Maybe the person who has told you this is yourself.  Let us bury that way of thinking.  Let us quiet continually telling ourselves and each other that story.  Let us not forget who we are, for God has told us: we are His children, created in His image.

I have given much thought about what I need to “bury,” or leave behind, this Lenten season.  And those couple of things that God has brought to my mind and laid on my heart, I’m prayerfully working on those.  I wonder, what do you want to bury?  What do you need to leave behind?  What do you need to “creatively destruct?”  Name those, take them to God, and let go of them.  Let them die.  And on Easter, let us be amazed at all of the ways God can bring new life.

This is a Holy Fast

Wednesday begins the Season of Lent, the six week/forty day period (not counting Sundays) from Ash Wednesday to Resurrection Day when the Church takes a solemn turn to consider Jesus’ journey to the cross.  We consider our sinfulness, repentance, and our own mortality.  It is a season of soul-searching, a time to return to the Lord in ashes and repentance.  Jesus entered the wilderness for 40 days after his baptism, and the season of Lent designates forty days that we may enter the wilderness and fully rely on God.

Traditionally, Christians have decided to “give up” something during Lent.  Chocolate has always been a favorite, caffeine, cigars, or alcohol.  Many people decide to take a “social media” fast, giving up Facebook or Instagram.  All of these are fine, and some people may find spiritual growth in refusing a reliance of these so that they may rely on God.  This year, my thoughts are drawn toward those things that I may need to give up, not just for the season of Lent, but permanently.

The Prophet Joel will proclaim to us on Ash Wednesday that God calls us to return to God with all our heart.  God doesn’t call us to get everything cleaned up and then come, but to come with our hearts.  God is concerned with those things we do or don’t do, but God also wants our hearts, God wants them to be pure.

Nadia Bolz Weber, a former Lutheran pastor in Denver, offered a list for the season of Lent several years ago, an action for each day, and it has been helpful to me.  I offer it to you again as a reminder or a plan of how we may offer our hearts to God and observe a Holy Lent.

Day 1: Pray for your enemies

Day 2: Walk, carpool, bike or bus it.

Day 3: Don’t turn on the car radio

Day 4: Give $20 to a non-profit of your choosing

(Sunday)

Day 5: Take 5 minutes of silence at noon

Day 6: Look out the window until you find something of beauty you had not noticed before

Day 7: Give 5 items of clothing to Goodwill

Day 8: No bitching day

Day 9: Do someone else’s chore

Day 10: Buy a few $5 fast food gift cards to give to homeless people you encounter

(Sunday)

Day 11: Call an old friend

Day 12: Pray the Paper (pray for people and situations in today’s news)

Day 13: Read Psalm 139

Day 14: Pay a few sincere compliments

Day 15: Bring your own mug

Day 16: Educate yourself about human trafficking

(Sunday)

Day 17: Forgive someone

Day 18: Internet diet

Day 19: Change one light in your house to a compact florescent

Day 20: Check out morning and evening prayer online at The Daily Office.

Day 21: Ask for help

Day 22: Tell someone what you are grateful for

(Sunday)

Day 23: Introduce yourself to a neighbor

Day 24: Read Psalm 121

Day 25: Bake a cake

Day 26: No shopping day

Day 27: Light a virtual candle

Day 28: Light an actual candle

(Sunday)

Day 29: Write a thank you note to your favorite teacher

Day 30: Invest in canvas shopping bags

Day 31: Use Freecycle

Day 32: Donate art supplies to your local elementary school

Day 33: Read John 8:1-11

Day 34: Worship at a friend’s mosque, synogogue or church and look for the beauty

(Sunday)

Day 35: Confess a secret

Day 36: No sugar day – where else is there sweetness in your life?

Day 37: Give $20 to a local non-profit

Day 38: Educate yourself about a saint www.catholic.org/saints

Day 39: Pray for peace

Day 40: Pray for your enemies (you probably have new ones by now) then decide which of these exercises you’ll keep for good

Go to the Marketplace

Paul never invited people to come to a religious’ service to hear him preach about Jesus.

When Paul arrived in town, he didn’t start setting out signs like a Revival Preacher that told people of a time and place for them to travel to in order to hear the Good News.  No.  Paul went to where the people were, he walked into their world, and he spoke, healed, and acted like Jesus.

The Philippians didn’t have to travel anywhere to see and hear what it will look like when God’s Kingdom comes.  Paul went to the marketplace and told them.  (the above photo is of the ruins of the marketplace in Philippi). He went to the marketplace and healed a girl who was being trafficked, enraging her traffickers, so that Paul was arrested and thrown in jail.  In jail, he sang hymns, and when God sent an earthquake to free him, he told the jailer about Jesus.  He told about Jesus wherever the people were…most often, in the marketplace.

This was the case in Philippi, Thessaloniki, Ephesus, and Athens.  He didn’t expect the people who needed to know about Jesus to come to him, he went to them.  He went to the marketplace.

At some point in the 2,000 years that separate us from Paul we have changed.  We expect people to come to us.  “Come worship with us…we have a place for you!”  “Come to us…we have wonderful Bible studies, and fellowship, and missions, just come and join us!”  I say these things nearly every week.  And we wait…will they come?

Paul didn’t do this, he went to them.

It will take many people in our world a long time to come to church.  Many will never come to us.  There are so many barriers to cross for many people to come into a church building to hear about Jesus.  Many will never do it.

Why don’t we go to them?

Paul went to the marketplace, a place that was as un-Christian as we can imagine.  Pagan temples and temple prostitutes and all sorts of behavior that flies in the face of Christianity.  But that didn’t stop Paul.  Paul went to them.

Why don’t we go to them?

It seems to me that we have two options…continue to lament the many who do not “come to us,” or…go to them.  Paul went to the Marketplace.

For the sake of the Good News, for the sake of those who do not know of the new life that Jesus offers…we should to0.

Courage...In the Steps of St. Paul

Early in January I traveled with a group of about twenty pastors and spouses to Greece and Rome.  The purpose of the trip, which was actually a pilgrimage, was to go to the places that Paul visited on his missionary journeys.  I was one of three Baptists on the trip, there was a United Methodist Pastor, and the remainder were Lutherans.  There were two others from Virginia, one from North Carolina, Florida, Nebraska, Texas, Minnesota, and Michigan.  We started in Thessaloniki, drove through Greece to Athens, and then flew finally to Rome.  We visited many places mentioned in the book of Acts, including Philippi, Corinth, and Berea.  We also went to religiously important sites that are not mentioned in scripture, such as Meteora, an area in northern Greece known for its many monasteries.

Over the past few weeks I have thought a lot about the trip, the places visited, the Biblical story that includes those places.  But most specifically I have thought of the Apostle Paul.  Paul is sometimes a difficult character.  His writings are some of the most beloved in scripture, but many of his writings are used in harmful ways to push particular agendas.  But, however one experiences Paul, it cannot be denied that he is as important as any person in the formation and spread of Christianity.

For the next few weeks I will share with you some of my take-a-ways from walking in the steps of St. Paul.  Here’s the first one:  Paul was a man of Spirit-led courage.

It is hard for me to wrap my head around this…Paul left the Roman colony of Palestine, journeyed west out of Asia into Europe, and began telling everyone who would listen about this man named Jesus, who was in fact God incarnate, who was killed by the Romans but was resurrected and lives again.  He preached this message to faithful Jews in synagogues, and he preached it to powerful Romans.  He delivered this message to a group of women by a river in Philippi, and he talked about Jesus when he was chained before the officials in Corinth.  Wherever he was, whoever would listen, he talked about Jesus.  With no regard for the consequences of his preaching, he never shied away from speaking the life-changing Good News of Jesus.  Courage.

Last Saturday our deacons held their yearly retreat.  We gathered at Richmond Hill in the Church Hill neighborhood, and Karl Heilman, pastor at Sandston Baptist and BGAV Field Strategist, led our retreat.  I had lunch with Karl that day, and a person from Richmond Hill, an Indian-American pastor joined us.  Karl was telling the other pastor and me about a mission trip he went on years earlier to India.  Karl traveled from village to village where he or a local pastor would preach at an outdoor worship service.  While Karl was there he was able to purchase a small motorcycle for that local pastor, making it easier for him to travel and preach.

I almost missed Karl’s next comment about that Indian pastor, so I asked him to repeat it.  He said, “that pastor was martyred about a year later.”  He told us that the pastor, when he was preaching in a village, was detained, tied behind a van, and drug to his death.  I know that Christians are persecuted, but this took me by surprise, and it broke my heart.  To know of a person who was killed because of their insistence of telling others about Jesus.  This man, like Paul, was brave.  He was courageous.

We don’t face persecution in America for being Christians.  Our lives are not at risk because of our faith.  But it is still all-too-easy to not be courageous in matters of faith and church.

We eventually made our way to the place, just outside of Rome, where Paul was beheaded for preaching about Jesus.  Paul, just like that Indian pastor, lost his life for the Gospel.  But his life was so consumed by Jesus, he would not stop.  Courage.

May we, like Paul, be so consumed by the life-changing power of Jesus Christ, that we are possessed by the same Spirit-led courage for the good news that we have received.

Darkest Day

We have no reason to believe that Jesus was born on December 25.  And while the Western Church has been celebrating “Christ Mass” on December 25 since the fourth century, it is not done so because the Church believes it got the birth date right.  Some have tied the date of Christmas to Mary’s Annunciation on March 25, and nine months later would be December 25.  But most likely the Annunciation Day celebration on March 25 was derived from the already set Christmas Day celebration on December 25.

            The more likely story of a late December celebration of Jesus’ birth is much more complicated, involving pagan festivals and the tilting of the earth at the winter solstice.  This Thursday, just before ten thirty p.m., the Northern Hemisphere will reach its farthest distance from the sun.  These are the darkest days of the year, the days with the least amount of time between sunrise and sunset.  Thursday is the winter solstice.  And the ancients knew that on the winter solstice, that that would be the day when sun would start to “win the battle” over the darkness.  Because starting Friday, each day little by little, the sun will begin to shine a little longer.  This was cause for celebration.  The ancients would take their beverages that had been fermenting since Autumn and drink them in celebration.  They would slaughter the animals they didn’t want to have to feed and tend through the remaining months of winter.  It was a celebration.

            Early Christians, noticing these “heathen” celebrations, probably made the decision influenced by these existing customs.  Some modern-day Christians are bothered by this story, that the celebration day of our Savior’s birth is tied to pagan or “heathen” customs.  Some modern-day Christians even reject the celebration of Christmas with its carry-overs because they want nothing to do with a celebration that is a blending of pagan and Christian.   But to me, especially this year, it makes perfect sense.

            John tells us that “the light shines in the darkness,” and celebrating Christ’s birth on the darkest day (they didn’t get it exactly right, but December 25 is close enough) is a near-perfect picture of exactly what God does in Jesus Christ.  Jesus comes to us when things are dark, and the light of Christ shines in the darkness. 

            We have lived through a dark year, and Christ has continually showed up to share light in the midst of the darkness.  The light has not completely overcome the darkness, as John  mentions, but the light has been shining all through it.

            In the midst of this week’s darkness, remember that Christ is born.  The light is shining in today’s darkness, and the darkness cannot and will not overcome the light.

            Merry Christmas, that thing for which we have been waiting is already come.

What is Hard to See

            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.

Beginning with Comfort

   Each of the Gospel writers begin telling the story of Jesus in different ways.  Mark, whose account we are reading this year, skips the normal birth narrative altogether.  The only birth that is described in Mark’s Gospel is the watery birth of baptism.  Matthew, Luke, and John also have their different approaches to the beginning of the story of Jesus.

            When George Frederick Handel begins his telling of the “Messiah” story, he also begins the story in a unique way.  After the instrumental introduction, Handel has a tenor step forward and slowly, clearly sing Isaiah 40.

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.

Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her,

that her warfare is accomplished,

that her iniquity is pardoned:

for she hath received of the LORD's hand double for all her sins.

(Click Here for a Video of the Tenor Aria)

            The tenor doesn’t rush through this verse, he dwells pointedly on that first word.  Comfort.  Before the music allows us to move on, we hear the word comfort no fewer than six times. 

            Our culture, given the choice, would start and end it with the Hallelujah Chorus (Handel does neither), because we always want to skip to Hallelujahs.  But Handel and the Church understand what God’s people often need, especially when we’re in exile, is comfort.

            We are in need of comfort these days, for so much of what we’re experiencing is so un-comfortable.  And on the Second Sunday in Advent that is exactly what the prophet brings to us: 

A God who offers comfort. 

A shepherd who tends and feeds his flock. 

A shepherd who will gather his lambs into his arms. 

And will place them on his lap. 

And will gently guide us.

Advent Waiting with the Port William Membership

The Port William township is a fictional place in Kentucky created in the mind of writer Wendell Berry.  The stories that make up Port William begin in the second half of the 19th century and flow for about one hundred years through the characters and families who inhabit that farming community.  I’ve just re-read my favorite (so far) of the books that make up the Port William novels, Jayber Crow, and I’m planning on reading (re-reading some) all of Berry’s Port William novels over the next couple of months.  Berry’s imagined community portrays a world that is different from the world in which we live.  In the span of time and space that separate us from Port William, much has changed.  Reading about the Coulters and the Catletts and the Keiths and the Feltners one quickly notices their goodness, their integrity, their honesty, their work-ethic, and their decency.  They are committed people: committed to their families, their community, their church, their way of life, their farming.  They are committed to each other, and they’re committed to their land.  They are not perfect people, but there is something in my heart that makes me want to mirror their goodness when I read about them.

In addition to all of this, they are patient people.

They wait for the rain to come, they wait for the seasons to change, they wait for the ground to dry so they may plow the fields.  Many do not have cars, so they wait for a ride to go to the next town to shop.  They wait for their weekly favorite radio show.  They wait for the lambing of the sheep and the calving of the cows.  They wait before they speak, and they wait for the lengthening of the days.  They are patient people.  Their lives are slow and measured.  In that different time and place, they are not in a hurry.

Our world is not like Port William.  Our world, with its technology, has eliminated our need to wait for most things.  We are “immediate” people, we want things to 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. 

My Gratitude List, the BGAV, and Total Praise

As I was driving to the BGAV (Baptist General Association of Virginia) meeting this past Wednesday morning at Bon Air Baptist Church, I had one thought on my mind: I didn’t want to go.  Don’t get me wrong, I think the BGAV meetings are great gatherings.  And I love my Virginia Baptist family.  A big part of the reason that I didn’t want to go is that there is not an “introvert track” at the BGAV, and I need a good amount of quiet time alone, especially in the mornings.  After two full days in the large crowd, I had about reached my limit.  But I went anyway, mopey attitude and all.  I entered the back of the sanctuary, sitting almost on the back pew in the very far corner.  Not long after I sat down a choir began singing, and they caught my attention.  It was a choir from an African-American congregation in Richmond.  They finished their first piece, and then they began their second selection, and I recognized it immediately.  I have sung it as a hymn before (at a Montreat Worship and Music Conference), and it is one of my favorites.  The title of the song is Total Praise, and it begins with the words of Psalm 121, “Lord, I will lift my eyes to the hills.”  The energy of the song builds steadily to the climax, and then ends quietly.  It is powerful, it is moving, it brings tears to my eyes.  Here’s a link if you’d like to listen to another choir sing Total Praise.

The song is wonderful, and the choir that sang it at the BGAV meeting was extraordinary.  But what listenting to that choir did for me that day was it “got me out of my head” and caused me to focus on something bigger, more powerful, more beautiful, something beyond myself.  Music does that for me.  Worship does it too. Gratitude does that for me as well. 

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 27 years come the 28th of December,

            who loves me even when I am (frequently) unlovable,

            and reminds me to not take myself too seriously,

            and still makes me look forward to days we can spend together, just the two of us.

I am thankful for my three wonderful daughters;

            I am thankful that they are smart, strong, and independent,

            I am thankful that they are compassionate and caring of others.

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 I was able to go to the Holy Land this year, and sing Silent Night in Bethlehem, and fall on my knees and pray at Calvary, and stand with tears in my eyes in the Empty Tomb.

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 in August of 2007 God rescued me in a powerful way and gave me a life of peace, joy, freedom, and sobriety.

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 Jackson Browne, Bruce Springsteen, Jay Ungar, and Doc Watson,

            and Vaughan Williams, J.S. Bach, Morten Lauridsen, and Josquin des Prez.

This week of Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful, to “get out of our heads,” and to notice all the goodness, blessing, power, and beauty that is around us.  You are like me, we are blessed beyond all that we can imagine.  We owe God, the giver of all our good gifts, our Total Praise.

It's Almost Advent, So What's the Plan at May Memorial?

I wait all year to sing Joy to the World, The First Noel, and Silent Night.  And, when I sing Silent Night I want to be holding a burning candle in a dimly-lit sanctuary.  I look forward to singing these carols, and I look forward to hearing the choir sing the annual Christmas Cantata.  I look forward to taking a seat in a pew, breathing in a deep breath (a sight of relief), and hearing the Christmas story in song by our wonderful musicians.  I look forward to it every year.

So, what is the plan for this year?

Stuart, our gifted and skilled Director of Music, has dealt with a couple of tough health issues this year.  First she was diagnosed with cancer at the beginning of this calendar year, and then, over the past weeks she has struggled with a heart procedure that was quickly followed by pneumonia.  We have spoken Stuart’s name to God many times in prayer this year, because we love her, and we want God to heal her and make her well.  Stuart is on the mend, but we do not bounce back from these illnesses quickly.  Stuart is looking forward to being back at the organ console and the conductor’s stand, but it will likely be a month or so before she is able to do that.

So, what is the plan?

First, we are blessed to have Sandra Parker as our pianist and accompanist.  Sandra has stepped in and has taken on much of the music in worship, and we are blessed to have Sandra lead us in worship from the piano.

Second, Mary Ellen Balarzs has agreed to help lead the choir.  She will lead choir rehearsals on Thursday nights, and she will direct the choir on Sunday mornings.  Mary Ellen and the choir are continue to follow the plan that Stuart laid out, including the cantata for December 17th.

Third, other musicians and groups from within the church will provide music in worship.  The Men’s Quartet, the Ensemble (they’re working on a name :) ) that has led music at the early service, and others will be a part of 11:00 a.m. worship over the next few weeks.

And lastly, you will be hearing a few guests organists through the Advent and Christmas Season.  This Sunday (and possibly other Sundays before Christmas) Paul Honaker, who served Bon Air Baptist for nearly forty years, will be with us.  Donald Moro and Jeff Hummel, both capable organists, will also be with us between now and the end of the year.

Music is very important to Christian worship, maybe even the most important part for many Christians.  It is important to us at May Memorial, especially at Advent and Christmas.  And this is the plan.  First, keep praying for Stuart.  And then, let go (loosen up) and anticipate all of the ways the Good News of the Word Made Flesh will come to us.

What is certain is that when we get to Christmas, Jesus will come.  In a world where nothing goes exactly as planned, where nothing is perfect, Jesus always comes.  May we rest assured knowing that God will be with us.

How Churches are Like Hydrangeas and What Makes May Memorial Unique

Churches are like hydrangeas.  With churches and hydrangeas, the place where they are planted affects their appearance.  A church that is planted in Appalachia looks significantly different than one that is planted in Manhattan.  A church that is planted in Eastern North Carolina looks different than a church that is planted in the Pacific Northwest.  And hydrangeas, they look different, have a different color, based on the pH of soil.

May Memorial, just like every church, is planted in a particular place among particular people.  And because of this place and this people where the Gospel took root, our life together as a church looks different than if it were planted in any other place among any other people.

And we are unique.  We are different from every other church in the world, and we are distinct from every other church even in our own county.  I’ve thought a lot lately about what makes us unique, and I’d like to share a few things.

One thing that makes us unique: our worship can be described as “traditional.”

We have a choir, use hymnals, sing hymns, have a choir anthem, begin with a prelude, have a benediction, and pray the Lord’s Prayer together.  We use “traditional” instruments mostly, an organ, and a piano.  We have at least one scripture reading each Sunday, and we loosely follow the Church Year (Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, and Easter).  This does not mean that we are ruled by our “tradition,” because we do have variations on a regular basis.  We include videos in worship from time to time, and it is not at all uncommon to hear someone sing a contemporary song in worship with a guitar.  I like to say that we are “creatively traditional.”  We are not afraid to include new or different things as they are appropriate, but based on the soil in which May Memorial has been planted, our expression of the Church is basically traditional.

There are many who prefer to worship in other ways than “traditional.”  There are many who find God in modern-styled darkened auditoriums with a full contemporary band that wouldn’t recognize Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise if their life depended on it.  And we should honor this expression of Church.  But it is not us.  And what is more, there are many individuals who still look for worship the way we do it.

We should never apologize for being “traditional.”  We should never feel that we are somehow “less” and that we must change in order to be vibrant and fruitful.  We should celebrate and lean into our uniqueness, understanding that God has called us together as a people and placed us in this place at this time.

We are unique in our community, and what is most important is that when we worship, God is in our midst.  In scripture, in hymns.  In anthems and preludes and sometimes even in the sermon.  God honors our worship, not because of the style, but because it comes from the hearts of His people.

Thanks be to God for worship at May Memorial.  I rejoice in the way God continues to work among us, and draw people to Himself through the faithful worship of God’s people.

The Great Thanksgiving and World Communion Sunday

An Ancient and Universal Prayer…

This coming Sunday is World Communion Sunday, and we (I) will do something at May Memorial that we’ve never done before.

World Communion Sunday is celebrated by many Christian denominations, and it is always the first Sunday in October.  The idea of World Communion Sunday started at Shadyside Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh, but it did not gain momentum until after World War II.  After God’s people saw how the world was harmed and torn apart with war, they recognized the importance of demonstrating, at Christ’s Table, that all of God’s people are one, that we share “one faith, one hope, and one baptism.”

In worship at May Memorial this Sunday we will include The Great Thanksgiving in worship.  Across time and space, the words of The Great Thanksgiving have been spoken, sung, and chanted by Christians as they come to the Lord’s Table.  These words unite us as Christians to our sisters and brothers across time and geographical boundaries.  These words go back to the early church, and the early church based them on the words spoken by God’s Jewish people when celebrating the passover.  And these words follow the pattern of the words at Passover, in that they do three things.

First, they thank God for creation, providence, for God’s covenantal loyalty (hesed), for seasonal blessings, and for all of God’s good works.

Second, they remember God’s acts of salvation, most notably in Jesus Christ: his birth, life, death, resurrection, and promised coming.

Third, they call upon the Holy Spirit to draw people to the feast, that they may be redeemed, saved, and strengthened by the risen Christ.

Scripture makes up a large portion of The Great Thanksgiving.  You will recognize words from Isaiah, “Holy, Holy, Holy…” and words from Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem “Hosanna! Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!”  Many of the words will be spoken, but some this Sunday will also be sung.

This Sunday we will join with Christians around the world at the Lord’s Table, and we will be using a practice and tradition that is as old as our faith.  In a culture that sees little or no value in maintaining important practices and traditions, this is a statement that the traditions of the Church are important and enliven God’s people today.

Praying for You...

            There is a method of prayer that I love to use on retreats.  Those in attendance are divided into two groups, and the first group sits in a circle facing inward.  They bow their heads and close their eyes, and then those in the other group move quietly from person to person, placing their hands on their shoulders and head, and silently pray for the person they are touching.  After everyone has had a chance to pray for each seated person, the two groups change places and the ones who previously prayed are now prayed for.

            It has always been a moving experience when I have done this.  Some people shed tears, some grab onto the person for whom their praying.  It is moving because it means a lot to us to know that someone is praying for us.  To know that we are lifted up before God by name is a moving realization.

            As your pastor, I pray for you.  I spend time in prayer most mornings, and I pray for you by name during that time.  I use a copy of the church directory to pray for each person who is a member of our church family, and I lift you up to God.  I pray for you when I pass your house.  I pray that God will bless you and that you will know God’s peace.  I pray for our children when I pass the school they attend, and I pray for our teachers, administrators, and workers in that school.  Sometimes I will pray for you (silently) during worship, and sometimes I pray (silently) for you during a meeting.  Of course I have prayed for many of you while with you in the hospital, but I also stop in the chapel of the hospital and spend more time praying for you.  When I walk to the front of the sanctuary to lead a funeral, as soon as I find my seat I begin praying for the family who is sitting to my left.  Often I don’t know what words to use, I don’t know what is meaningful to pray for, so I will imagine you in my mind’s eye and I picture God’s healing grace flooding over you like a blanket.

            As a member of the May Memorial family you are prayed for.  Not in some large “I pray for the congregation” sense, but in an individual way, by name.  I do this because you are important to me, and you are important to God.  It is a part of my vocation that brings me joy and love, and I count it a privilege to carry your name before our God who hears all of our prayers.

An Open Door...

I spend a lot of time in hospitals.  There are not many weeks in the year that pass without me stepping into a hospital to see a member of our church family who is about to have surgery, recovering from surgery, or spending time healing.  If the doctor steps in when I am there I always offer to leave the room, but I am rarely asked by a church member to do so.  As I hear the conversation between the patient and the doctor, it is clear that the doctor is the expert in the room, and I (along with any family members present) am praying that the patient will do exactly what the doctor says.  After the information is gathered from tests, the doctor is the one who prescribes exactly what should be done.  I don’t think I have ever heard a patient listen to the doctor’s plan of treatment, and then reply with an alternative plan that is as hopeful as the doctor’s.  The doctor is the expert, and even if one doesn’t like the plan, one has the most hope for a meaningful recovery if that plan is followed.

            There are pastors who think they are the doctors and everyone else in the church is the patient.  These pastors view themselves as the expert, the final word.  These pastors think that if they can only get the church to follow their plan, preferences, and ideas, the church will be fruitful and fully live into God’s mission in the community and world.  In their estimation their opinion is the only one that should be taken seriously, and they have little time for suggestions, observations, and constructive criticism.

            This is not the image of a pastor that I embrace or aspire to, and it is not how I view my myself or our church family.  I believe that every Christian at May Memorial is called by God to help our church family live into the fullness of God’s mission.  Every Christian at May Memorial can be led by God’s Holy Spirit, and when the Holy Spirit impresses something on someone’s heart about what we can do, or what we can do better, I want to hear it.

            I will listen to you.

            I believe that theological education is essential for the vocation of a pastor.  But seminary does give a man or a woman God’s unique vision for a particular congregation.  A pastor along with the church, with hearts open to God’s leading, discover through committed dialog how to live into God’s mission for the church.  Your voice is essential.

            This does not mean every idea is a workable idea.  I have had many bad ideas that did not work.  This also does not mean that “gossipy” complaints or the use of the “anonymous we” is healthy for churches either.  But healthy dialog in which constructive ideas are used to improve May Memorial is essential for our church life, and I will listen to you.

            There are no ideas that are too “outside the box” for me to hear.  All ideas are worthy to be spoken and heard, and it is essential that you share those.  God uses each Christian who is a part of the May Memorial family to form us and guide us into the church that God is calling us to be, and I pray that each member feels the freedom to come to me and share your ideas. 

            My door is always open.  I will listen to you.

After Twelve Years…What I Want to Say

This morning as I came into the pastor’s study at May Memorial I was cognizant of the face that today marks twelve years for me as the pastor of May Memorial.  Labor Day 2011 was my family’s first day spent in Powhatan, and then my work as pastor began the next day.  As I mark this time, there are several things that I want to say to the church family.  These statements will be my next several newsletter articles, beginning today.

When I was in seminary I dreamed of my ideal church.  In my mind’s eye I envisioned what the building would look like.  I could see the people.  I could imagine what worship was like, and I envisioned a traditional sanctuary (certainly not an auditorium).  At that time, it seemed that I was a lifetime away from being the pastor of such a “dream church,” but I knew what kind of church I wanted to serve as pastor.  I also believed then as I believe now that this “dream church” was the type of church God had (and has) called me to serve.

May Memorial is my dream church.  May Memorial is like every other church in the world in that it is imperfect, but for me, it was and continues to be my answer to prayer.  I love May Memorial Church, and I love those who worship, work, learn, and participate in any way in our life together.  I love our church as a whole, and I love the individuals who make up our church.

I love the sense of welcome and community that is felt at our church…

I love our traditional worship…

I love our quality Sunday School classes…

I love our youth and our children…

I love our senior adults and the goodness they bring to our church…

I love our Wednesday night meals…

I love how important missions are at May Memorial…

I love the quality of music that has long been a part of May Memorial…

I love our deacons and their vision of themselves as a ministry-oriented body…

I love how our building is well cared for and maintained…

I love our choir and their devotion to their craft…

I love that May Memorial still has the organ in worship…

I love the current staff at May Memorial…

I love those who have served before me, excellent pastors on whose shoulders I stand…

I love those who worship here every Sunday…

I love those who show up on Easter and Christmas…

I love those who are on numerous committees and teams…

I love those who quietly show up to worship occasional Sundays…

When things are going well it is easy to love a church and its people, but I have grown to love May Memorial most in times that are a little more challenging.  We have had those over the past few years.  May Memorial is not perfect, none of its members are perfect, and neither is its pastor.  But on our best days and on our worst days, I love this church, and I love the people that are a part of our church family.

May Memorial is a gift of God to our community, it is a gift of God to my family and me, and I have great love for you and for our church.