The story of Jacob wrestling with God tells the unsettling, yet reassuring story that out of our deepest struggles come the greatest blessings. Jacob wrestled with God all night, and only after God dislocated Jacob's hip, an injury with which he limped the rest of his life, did he receive the blessings of God he so deeply wanted.
The death of a loved one, the loss of a job, financial disaster, the failure of a marriage, a life-threatening illness; all of these and many more events may impose painful experiences that cripple us for the rest of our lives. But in the healing of time, like Jacob, we may realize that without those scars, we would never have entered into a new relationship of blessings with God.
As Nathan Nettleton put it: "And many of us, too, can witness that our greatest blessings and our deepest scars came from one and the same experience."
He continued, "...the events that inflict upon us wounds that leave us limping for the rest of our lives have at times been the events that we also look back at with a measure of gratitude for the way they have reshaped us and borne fruits of grace within us that would not otherwise have been possible. And as we recognize that we often see in those same events the unmistakable fingerprints of God, if not in the causing of the events, then at least in the ways they were utilized in our lives. Am I right?"
Up until the all night struggle with God, Jacob was a rascal! Hardly a paragon of virtue, he tricked, deceived, and cheated his way through life; betraying his own father and brother. But after the struggle, in which he became broken for life, Jacob became a new man; blessed by God and able to bring healing to the broken relationships in his life.
Prophets, Priests and Kings
July 28, 2008
I backed into computing in 1977. In the early 1980s, I wrote my doctoral dissertation at Columbia Theological Seminary in Atlanta exploring the great potential of computing technology in ministry. That was when PCs were rarely found in church offices.
My doctoral committee demanded that I have a “theological rationale” to anchor the project in the roots of the Judeo-Christian tradition. Otherwise, I should be doing the dissertation at Kudzu University, not one of the finest theology schools in America. Many of the professors had doubts PCs were more than toys, and were convinced they would never end up in churches, if they survived at all. I recall Dr. Doug Hix, my wise advisor and mentor, saying, “Bill, if you cannot answer, ‘What in the world do computers have to do with ministry?’ your dissertation will never be approved.”
It was challenging to blend the use of new technology into the historical-theological traditions of the church. Trying to find a “proof text” such as “Thou shalt use thy Blackberry to stay in touch with thy parishioners” proved futile.
So I explored the roles ministers fulfill, and sought to show how personal computers and technology could (and should) be used as a tool of ministry. My rationale was that ministers fulfill one of three (and sometimes all three) roles of prophet, priest and king. I used Moses, Abraham, and David to illustrate the priestly, prophetic and kingly-administrative roles of ministry.
I never imagined the impact personal computers would have upon our world. But I am glad I was there to see this new resource born and grow up to where it is today. Ministers, who have the same mind-set as engineers, have become quite comfortable and innovative with technology. Churches may now carry their message to the uttermost parts of the earth without leaving the sanctuary.
Last week, I posted my first blog, and have had responses from all over the world; including a response from Columbia Theological Seminary, where my techno-ministry began.
Like my colleagues, I sometimes wear the prophetic hat, speaking forth God’s Word; sometimes the priestly hat, pouring oil upon troubled waters; and sometimes wearing the kingly hat, conducting the administrative aspects of the Kingdom. Any tool that helps us do our work more efficiently and effectively helps us become more faithful stewards.
From the Quote Garden
“After growing wildly for years, the field of computing appears to be reaching its infancy.”
~John Pierce
I backed into computing in 1977. In the early 1980s, I wrote my doctoral dissertation at Columbia Theological Seminary in Atlanta exploring the great potential of computing technology in ministry. That was when PCs were rarely found in church offices.
My doctoral committee demanded that I have a “theological rationale” to anchor the project in the roots of the Judeo-Christian tradition. Otherwise, I should be doing the dissertation at Kudzu University, not one of the finest theology schools in America. Many of the professors had doubts PCs were more than toys, and were convinced they would never end up in churches, if they survived at all. I recall Dr. Doug Hix, my wise advisor and mentor, saying, “Bill, if you cannot answer, ‘What in the world do computers have to do with ministry?’ your dissertation will never be approved.”
It was challenging to blend the use of new technology into the historical-theological traditions of the church. Trying to find a “proof text” such as “Thou shalt use thy Blackberry to stay in touch with thy parishioners” proved futile.
So I explored the roles ministers fulfill, and sought to show how personal computers and technology could (and should) be used as a tool of ministry. My rationale was that ministers fulfill one of three (and sometimes all three) roles of prophet, priest and king. I used Moses, Abraham, and David to illustrate the priestly, prophetic and kingly-administrative roles of ministry.
I never imagined the impact personal computers would have upon our world. But I am glad I was there to see this new resource born and grow up to where it is today. Ministers, who have the same mind-set as engineers, have become quite comfortable and innovative with technology. Churches may now carry their message to the uttermost parts of the earth without leaving the sanctuary.
Last week, I posted my first blog, and have had responses from all over the world; including a response from Columbia Theological Seminary, where my techno-ministry began.
Like my colleagues, I sometimes wear the prophetic hat, speaking forth God’s Word; sometimes the priestly hat, pouring oil upon troubled waters; and sometimes wearing the kingly hat, conducting the administrative aspects of the Kingdom. Any tool that helps us do our work more efficiently and effectively helps us become more faithful stewards.
From the Quote Garden
“After growing wildly for years, the field of computing appears to be reaching its infancy.”
~John Pierce
Tidings of Antiquity
(May 18, 2004)
Cicero wrote, “History is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illumines reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life and brings us tidings of antiquity.”
The tidings of antiquity revitalized memories of my childhood last Sunday as I journeyed back to Concord Baptist Church in Calhoun County, Mississippi.
When I was a child, my parents made a pilgrimage every third Sunday in May to the all-day-singing and dinner-on-the-ground at Concord. The adults sang Stamps Baxter gospel music in the morning and Sacred Harp music after lunch, served outdoors. My bothers and sisters and cousins by the dozens romped in and out of the church and through the nearby cemetery where my Jenkins grandparents were buried. It was at Concord I realized how many relatives I had, both living and dead.
Every time I go to Calhoun County, I learn something about my ancestors, and ultimately about myself. Calvin Jenkins, my grandfather, died in 1949, the year after I was born. I have no recollection of him, other than through pictures and family legends. His father died when Calvin was only 16. He lived life in hard times amid difficult circumstances. Calvin found spiritual strength at Concord, because I knew he, too, traveled back to Concord every third Sunday in May after leaving Calhoun County in the mid 1920s.
I discovered files this week that recorded my grandfather’s baptism was August 21, 1897. My grandmother, Ann Vanlandingham Jenkins, was baptized a year earlier, September 19, 1896. They joined Concord Church in 1898. Calvin was a lay leader at Concord for a quarter century. Each of their surviving dozen children, plus three more from Calvin’s first marriage (that ended when his first wife died), were baptized at Concord. “Lester Jenkins. Baptized: August 15, 1918.” That was my father.
If “sins of the fathers” may be visited upon their children for generations, then “faith of our fathers” must have an equal, but positive power. The spiritual legacy of Calvin and Ann Jenkins’ faith lives on in their offspring, transcending generations. This serves as a reminder that our loyalty to Christ’s Church is not confined to time and space.
Through the eyes of antiquity, personal faith lives on, illuminating reality, vitalizing memories, and providing guidance in daily life.
Cicero wrote, “History is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illumines reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life and brings us tidings of antiquity.”
The tidings of antiquity revitalized memories of my childhood last Sunday as I journeyed back to Concord Baptist Church in Calhoun County, Mississippi.
When I was a child, my parents made a pilgrimage every third Sunday in May to the all-day-singing and dinner-on-the-ground at Concord. The adults sang Stamps Baxter gospel music in the morning and Sacred Harp music after lunch, served outdoors. My bothers and sisters and cousins by the dozens romped in and out of the church and through the nearby cemetery where my Jenkins grandparents were buried. It was at Concord I realized how many relatives I had, both living and dead.
Every time I go to Calhoun County, I learn something about my ancestors, and ultimately about myself. Calvin Jenkins, my grandfather, died in 1949, the year after I was born. I have no recollection of him, other than through pictures and family legends. His father died when Calvin was only 16. He lived life in hard times amid difficult circumstances. Calvin found spiritual strength at Concord, because I knew he, too, traveled back to Concord every third Sunday in May after leaving Calhoun County in the mid 1920s.
I discovered files this week that recorded my grandfather’s baptism was August 21, 1897. My grandmother, Ann Vanlandingham Jenkins, was baptized a year earlier, September 19, 1896. They joined Concord Church in 1898. Calvin was a lay leader at Concord for a quarter century. Each of their surviving dozen children, plus three more from Calvin’s first marriage (that ended when his first wife died), were baptized at Concord. “Lester Jenkins. Baptized: August 15, 1918.” That was my father.
If “sins of the fathers” may be visited upon their children for generations, then “faith of our fathers” must have an equal, but positive power. The spiritual legacy of Calvin and Ann Jenkins’ faith lives on in their offspring, transcending generations. This serves as a reminder that our loyalty to Christ’s Church is not confined to time and space.
Through the eyes of antiquity, personal faith lives on, illuminating reality, vitalizing memories, and providing guidance in daily life.
Hail Mary, Chosen Servant
December 19, 2005
As a child growing up in the Bible belt, Protestants were taught to beware of Catholicism. I assume they were taught a similar caution regarding us. I shall never forget the day Charles Goldsmith, a Catholic classmate who lived one street over from me, and I decided to ride our bikes to each other’s churches. That was my first venture inside St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Yazoo City. And just as Rev. Goodbody had warned in numerous sermons, there were all the statues (idols, I was sure) surrounding the ornate sanctuary. What worried me most was the sanctuary at the Assured Brethren Church was plain in comparison. Maybe I was a bit envious.
As we left St. Mary’s, Charles stopped at a small font in the vestibule. Charles dipped his fingers into the water and sprinkled some water on him. “What’s that?” I asked in pure innocence and ignorance. “Holy water,” Charles said. “We baptize infants with this.” That’s when I knew I had something to show him. “If you think that is a baptistery, wait until you see ours!” And off we went on our bicycle tour of Yazoo City’s churches.
If I have matured in any area of my life, I hope it is a spiritual maturity that does not demand others must believe and behave as I do. Such insistence on conformity is based upon fear, not faith.
That is why I offer a hearty Protestant “Hail Mary” this Christmas. Mary has much to teach all of us. It’s OK, my Protestant friends, to say it, despite our learned reservations. It’s right there in the King James Bible. “And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, (Mary), thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.” Luke 1:28
First, Mary was an ordinary person. God has a way of selecting the most uncommon folk to do His best work. The angel told Mary, “Thou art highly favored”. You and I are highly favored to have a Father of grace.
Secondly, Mary teaches us that being God’s chosen does not mean our path will be easy. Mary taught us what the angel meant when he said, “the Lord is with thee”. And the Lord is with us, through the good and bad that will befall us. Mary was chosen to conceive a child of the Holy Spirit. Both then and now, many could and cannot grasp the magnitude of that fact. How many of us would want our integrity called into question, not just for a lifetime, but for all eternity? Riding from Nazareth to Bethlehem in her ninth month, having her baby born in a stable, probably becoming widowed at a young age are not what most folks envision when they hear “You are God’s chosen”. Then the greatest trial of all was Mary watching her beloved son Jesus go through the mockery of a trial, witness his scourging, and endure every parent’s nightmare, watching her child die. Nowhere do we hear her complain, or ask, “Why me?”
Finally, having taught us how to faithfully complete our course as “God’s chosen”, I imagine Mary would be the last to seek our praise. But that does not mean she doesn’t deserve credit for being the vessel who brought our Savior to us. The angel spoke a truth: “Blessed at thou among women.”
A final thought. Maybe one of the outcomes of 9-11-01 is that Protestants and Catholics, Baptists and Methodists, high church and low church do not see each other as the enemy any longer. Maybe, just maybe, we have something to learn from each other, if we have the courage to overcome our fears.
As a child growing up in the Bible belt, Protestants were taught to beware of Catholicism. I assume they were taught a similar caution regarding us. I shall never forget the day Charles Goldsmith, a Catholic classmate who lived one street over from me, and I decided to ride our bikes to each other’s churches. That was my first venture inside St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Yazoo City. And just as Rev. Goodbody had warned in numerous sermons, there were all the statues (idols, I was sure) surrounding the ornate sanctuary. What worried me most was the sanctuary at the Assured Brethren Church was plain in comparison. Maybe I was a bit envious.
As we left St. Mary’s, Charles stopped at a small font in the vestibule. Charles dipped his fingers into the water and sprinkled some water on him. “What’s that?” I asked in pure innocence and ignorance. “Holy water,” Charles said. “We baptize infants with this.” That’s when I knew I had something to show him. “If you think that is a baptistery, wait until you see ours!” And off we went on our bicycle tour of Yazoo City’s churches.
If I have matured in any area of my life, I hope it is a spiritual maturity that does not demand others must believe and behave as I do. Such insistence on conformity is based upon fear, not faith.
That is why I offer a hearty Protestant “Hail Mary” this Christmas. Mary has much to teach all of us. It’s OK, my Protestant friends, to say it, despite our learned reservations. It’s right there in the King James Bible. “And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, (Mary), thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.” Luke 1:28
First, Mary was an ordinary person. God has a way of selecting the most uncommon folk to do His best work. The angel told Mary, “Thou art highly favored”. You and I are highly favored to have a Father of grace.
Secondly, Mary teaches us that being God’s chosen does not mean our path will be easy. Mary taught us what the angel meant when he said, “the Lord is with thee”. And the Lord is with us, through the good and bad that will befall us. Mary was chosen to conceive a child of the Holy Spirit. Both then and now, many could and cannot grasp the magnitude of that fact. How many of us would want our integrity called into question, not just for a lifetime, but for all eternity? Riding from Nazareth to Bethlehem in her ninth month, having her baby born in a stable, probably becoming widowed at a young age are not what most folks envision when they hear “You are God’s chosen”. Then the greatest trial of all was Mary watching her beloved son Jesus go through the mockery of a trial, witness his scourging, and endure every parent’s nightmare, watching her child die. Nowhere do we hear her complain, or ask, “Why me?”
Finally, having taught us how to faithfully complete our course as “God’s chosen”, I imagine Mary would be the last to seek our praise. But that does not mean she doesn’t deserve credit for being the vessel who brought our Savior to us. The angel spoke a truth: “Blessed at thou among women.”
A final thought. Maybe one of the outcomes of 9-11-01 is that Protestants and Catholics, Baptists and Methodists, high church and low church do not see each other as the enemy any longer. Maybe, just maybe, we have something to learn from each other, if we have the courage to overcome our fears.
Yes Virginia, There is a Christmas”
December 12, 2005
Dear Pastor Bill:
I am 8 years old. I am confused. The stores no longer display Christmas. They call it “holiday”, or something else.
Some of my little friends say there is no Christmas. Papa says "If you see it in "The E-Vangel" it's so."
Please tell me the truth, is there a really a Christmas?
Virginia O'Hanlon
115 West 95th Street
My Dearest Virginia,
Your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
How futile it is that everyone wants to change “Christmas” to “Holiday”. Don’t they know that Holiday means “Holy Day”? Christmas is one of the Holiest Days of the year.
Yes, Virginia, there is Christmas. Christmas exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Christmas! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, and no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
From the very First Christmas, when God gave us the greatest Gift we shall ever receive, Christmas has been a time of great wonder, joy and love. The heavens filled with the songs of angels. And God chose to come to us as an innocent child, like you, Virginia. It is your childlike faith that will keep Christmas alive forevermore.
Not believe in Christmas! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the Nativity scenes on Christmas eve to see in baby Jesus the wonderful love of God, but even if they did not see, what would that prove? Even if nobody sees, that is no sign that there is no Christmas. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
If there is no Christmas, then why does everyone taking time off from work, visiting families and friends, and exchanging gifts? To be consistent, shouldn’t those who protest Christmas be at their jobs, slaving away while I get some wet kisses from my grandchildren on Christmas morning? Now if they would do that, I might believe they have integrity. But many will take leave the last two weeks of the year, which, without the Christmas they despise, they would not be able to do.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
The reason there is no Nativity scene in our government this year is not because of separation of church and state, it’s because they cannot find “three wise men” in the whole city. Remember Virginia, “Wise Men still seek Him”.
No Christmas! Thank God He lives, and He lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, He will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
F. P. Church
New York Sun, September 21, 1897
(My thanks and apologies to Virginia O’Hanlon and F. P. Church)
May Christ be born in us this Christmas!
Dear Pastor Bill:
I am 8 years old. I am confused. The stores no longer display Christmas. They call it “holiday”, or something else.
Some of my little friends say there is no Christmas. Papa says "If you see it in "The E-Vangel" it's so."
Please tell me the truth, is there a really a Christmas?
Virginia O'Hanlon
115 West 95th Street
My Dearest Virginia,
Your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
How futile it is that everyone wants to change “Christmas” to “Holiday”. Don’t they know that Holiday means “Holy Day”? Christmas is one of the Holiest Days of the year.
Yes, Virginia, there is Christmas. Christmas exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Christmas! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, and no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
From the very First Christmas, when God gave us the greatest Gift we shall ever receive, Christmas has been a time of great wonder, joy and love. The heavens filled with the songs of angels. And God chose to come to us as an innocent child, like you, Virginia. It is your childlike faith that will keep Christmas alive forevermore.
Not believe in Christmas! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the Nativity scenes on Christmas eve to see in baby Jesus the wonderful love of God, but even if they did not see, what would that prove? Even if nobody sees, that is no sign that there is no Christmas. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
If there is no Christmas, then why does everyone taking time off from work, visiting families and friends, and exchanging gifts? To be consistent, shouldn’t those who protest Christmas be at their jobs, slaving away while I get some wet kisses from my grandchildren on Christmas morning? Now if they would do that, I might believe they have integrity. But many will take leave the last two weeks of the year, which, without the Christmas they despise, they would not be able to do.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
The reason there is no Nativity scene in our government this year is not because of separation of church and state, it’s because they cannot find “three wise men” in the whole city. Remember Virginia, “Wise Men still seek Him”.
No Christmas! Thank God He lives, and He lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, He will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
F. P. Church
New York Sun, September 21, 1897
(My thanks and apologies to Virginia O’Hanlon and F. P. Church)
May Christ be born in us this Christmas!
Civil Government
November 29, 2005
My alma mater, Delta State University, has as its official mascot the Statesman. The Statesman mascot is an Uncle Sam looking individual with a top hat, except the school colors of green and white make him look more like a Notre Dame’s leprechaun. (Just in case the NCAA declares the Statesman politically incorrect, as they did to Florida State’s Seminoles, we have an alternate mascot in waiting: The Fighting Okra. I am not kidding; you can’t make this stuff up.)
It begs the question: Who is a Statesman, anyway? They are rarer than chupacabra sightings. Back in Mississippi, we had a few real statesmen. Gov. William Winter, Lt. Governor Evelyn Gandy and Senator John Stennis left office with their dignity in tack, and with more respect than when they entered office. Non-politician statesmen included college president Dr. Aubrey Lucas and industrialist Owen Cooper, both of whom also provided outstanding lay leadership in their Methodist and Baptist churches, respectively. Apart from that handful, I’m having difficulty coming up with other genuine statesmen.
It’s such a shame that there are so few statesmen, especially in Washington. It saddens me greatly to see the rancor coming from our elected leaders. I doubt they are waiting to hear my suggestions, but I’m going to offer it anyway, ready or not.
First, there is a huge difference between politicians and statesmen. Politicians look at the next election, statesmen look at the next generation.
Secondly, statesmen understand the value of humor. Former Senator Howard Baker of Tennessee said humor is the oil that makes politics work. It is so sad we do not have the likes of Senator Sam Irwin (“I’m just a po’ ol’ country lawyer from North Carolina”), or Senator Everett Dirksen of Illinois whose one-liners could make Democrats and Republicans laugh together, and not at each other. What ever happened to the civility that saw Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill ending a contentious day with jokes?
Third, politicians take themselves far too seriously; statesmen can laugh at themselves. I can name a couple politicians who underwear seems to be on a bit too tight. But as Chairman of the California Whig Party, I’ll take the higher road and let you look at their faces and figure out who they are. When was he last time you saw one of them smile; I mean a real genuine smile, not a sneer?
Finally, if you guys don’t quit assassinating each other’s character, and get on with the nation’s business we elected you to do, and cut out that bickering as if you were a bunch of spoiled kindergarten brats, we are going to recall the whole lot of you! (I don’t care if it is a Democrat or a Republican, it’s a long standing tradition that traitors get shot at sunrise.) Don’t make my mother have to come up there and make you kiss and make up like she did to my little brother Louis and me after we fought. But you know what? It worked! I don’t think there is enough Ivory soap in Washington to wash out the mouths of some of you guys.
It’s not too late. Some of you might make statesman yet. But the way you are headed, I don’t see a statesman in the whole bunch. How sad for America.
P. S. Some say politics and religion should not mix. Could it be that is the problem? Politicians don’t seem to have much trouble telling religion what to do. Looks to me like the folks in Washington could use a good dose of religion.
P. P. S. Anita encourages me to stay away from politics in these newsletters. I will be sleeping on the couch tonight (again). She says I should too much like Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes.
My alma mater, Delta State University, has as its official mascot the Statesman. The Statesman mascot is an Uncle Sam looking individual with a top hat, except the school colors of green and white make him look more like a Notre Dame’s leprechaun. (Just in case the NCAA declares the Statesman politically incorrect, as they did to Florida State’s Seminoles, we have an alternate mascot in waiting: The Fighting Okra. I am not kidding; you can’t make this stuff up.)
It begs the question: Who is a Statesman, anyway? They are rarer than chupacabra sightings. Back in Mississippi, we had a few real statesmen. Gov. William Winter, Lt. Governor Evelyn Gandy and Senator John Stennis left office with their dignity in tack, and with more respect than when they entered office. Non-politician statesmen included college president Dr. Aubrey Lucas and industrialist Owen Cooper, both of whom also provided outstanding lay leadership in their Methodist and Baptist churches, respectively. Apart from that handful, I’m having difficulty coming up with other genuine statesmen.
It’s such a shame that there are so few statesmen, especially in Washington. It saddens me greatly to see the rancor coming from our elected leaders. I doubt they are waiting to hear my suggestions, but I’m going to offer it anyway, ready or not.
First, there is a huge difference between politicians and statesmen. Politicians look at the next election, statesmen look at the next generation.
Secondly, statesmen understand the value of humor. Former Senator Howard Baker of Tennessee said humor is the oil that makes politics work. It is so sad we do not have the likes of Senator Sam Irwin (“I’m just a po’ ol’ country lawyer from North Carolina”), or Senator Everett Dirksen of Illinois whose one-liners could make Democrats and Republicans laugh together, and not at each other. What ever happened to the civility that saw Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill ending a contentious day with jokes?
Third, politicians take themselves far too seriously; statesmen can laugh at themselves. I can name a couple politicians who underwear seems to be on a bit too tight. But as Chairman of the California Whig Party, I’ll take the higher road and let you look at their faces and figure out who they are. When was he last time you saw one of them smile; I mean a real genuine smile, not a sneer?
Finally, if you guys don’t quit assassinating each other’s character, and get on with the nation’s business we elected you to do, and cut out that bickering as if you were a bunch of spoiled kindergarten brats, we are going to recall the whole lot of you! (I don’t care if it is a Democrat or a Republican, it’s a long standing tradition that traitors get shot at sunrise.) Don’t make my mother have to come up there and make you kiss and make up like she did to my little brother Louis and me after we fought. But you know what? It worked! I don’t think there is enough Ivory soap in Washington to wash out the mouths of some of you guys.
It’s not too late. Some of you might make statesman yet. But the way you are headed, I don’t see a statesman in the whole bunch. How sad for America.
P. S. Some say politics and religion should not mix. Could it be that is the problem? Politicians don’t seem to have much trouble telling religion what to do. Looks to me like the folks in Washington could use a good dose of religion.
P. P. S. Anita encourages me to stay away from politics in these newsletters. I will be sleeping on the couch tonight (again). She says I should too much like Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes.
God’s Giving, Our Thanks
November 22, 2005
It appears to me that it is God’s nature to give abundant blessing to His children. It also appears that it is not as natural for us to say “Thank you.” So we instituted the National Day of Thanksgiving as a reminder to offer thanks, (however disingenuously), to Almighty God.
The contrast of circumstances is startling. A family in Pearlington, Mississippi, (where I lived for six years) is in their third month “camped out” on the concrete slab of what once was their ancestral home. Still there is no plumbing, no electricity (except for the small generator) no money, no stores to spend the money if they had any. The father lies in a Slidell Hospital near death, having lost the will to live. When he dies, he will not be counted among the casualties of Hurricane Katrina. But he will be another Katrina casualty, nonetheless. Thanksgiving is two days away.
A family in San Diego “camped out” all night. They want to be the first in line when Best Buy opens so they will be assured they will get the new XBOX game computer. In San Diego, we have plenty of electricity, food, plumbing, money and stores in which to spend it. We will have plenty of time to rest and play this long weekend, because Thanksgiving is just two days away.
Thanksgiving has roots all the way back to the Garden of Eden. Even Cain and Abel knew they did not cause their herds and crops to grow. They brought their Thanksgiving offerings to Almighty God. Abel offered a Thanksgiving from among “the firstlings (best) of his flocks” while Cain brought just “some fruits of the soil”. We learn much about offering thanks to God from this story. Abel offered God thanks with his best; Cain offered a casual, insincere thanks. With Thanksgiving just two days away, how will we demonstrate our gratitude?
In 2 Samuel 24:24, King David said unto Araunah, “Nay; but I will surely buy it of thee at a price: neither will I offer burnt offerings unto the LORD my God of that which doth cost me nothing.” Thanksgiving, if done correctly, will cost us something.
I wish for you and your family and your loved ones a genuine Thanksgiving; filled with gratitude for blessings too many to number, abundantly undeserved from Our Father who loves giving good gifts to His children.
It appears to me that it is God’s nature to give abundant blessing to His children. It also appears that it is not as natural for us to say “Thank you.” So we instituted the National Day of Thanksgiving as a reminder to offer thanks, (however disingenuously), to Almighty God.
The contrast of circumstances is startling. A family in Pearlington, Mississippi, (where I lived for six years) is in their third month “camped out” on the concrete slab of what once was their ancestral home. Still there is no plumbing, no electricity (except for the small generator) no money, no stores to spend the money if they had any. The father lies in a Slidell Hospital near death, having lost the will to live. When he dies, he will not be counted among the casualties of Hurricane Katrina. But he will be another Katrina casualty, nonetheless. Thanksgiving is two days away.
A family in San Diego “camped out” all night. They want to be the first in line when Best Buy opens so they will be assured they will get the new XBOX game computer. In San Diego, we have plenty of electricity, food, plumbing, money and stores in which to spend it. We will have plenty of time to rest and play this long weekend, because Thanksgiving is just two days away.
Thanksgiving has roots all the way back to the Garden of Eden. Even Cain and Abel knew they did not cause their herds and crops to grow. They brought their Thanksgiving offerings to Almighty God. Abel offered a Thanksgiving from among “the firstlings (best) of his flocks” while Cain brought just “some fruits of the soil”. We learn much about offering thanks to God from this story. Abel offered God thanks with his best; Cain offered a casual, insincere thanks. With Thanksgiving just two days away, how will we demonstrate our gratitude?
In 2 Samuel 24:24, King David said unto Araunah, “Nay; but I will surely buy it of thee at a price: neither will I offer burnt offerings unto the LORD my God of that which doth cost me nothing.” Thanksgiving, if done correctly, will cost us something.
I wish for you and your family and your loved ones a genuine Thanksgiving; filled with gratitude for blessings too many to number, abundantly undeserved from Our Father who loves giving good gifts to His children.
Giving Thanks in a Thankless Culture
November 15, 2005
I am trying to “get my head around” how agnostics and atheists celebrate Thanksgiving. I have weightier matters to consider, but please humor me for a moment. Just how do atheists offer thanks?
If one says there is no God, or that one cannot know if there is a God, then is it possible to offer thanks at all? Oh, sure, I can thank the postal worker for delivering the mail, the newspaper delivery person, and so on. But what about saying thanks for the beauty of a sunset, the giggle of a grand daughter, or the beauty of Saturn’s rings? Seems to me those folks have it pretty tough, not being able to express heartfelt gratitude for the things that really matter. “Thank you, ye first amoeba, who started the chain of evolution that produced the likes of…let’s say…Weird Al Yankovich,” just doesn’t rank up there with “Now thank we all our God…”
Atheists must be careful they don’t slip up, and admit there is an “Intelligent Design” to all of creation, or that there could be something (Someone) other than this visible world.
I saw some of those atheists out trick or treating a couple weeks ago. Guess it is OK to acknowledge other spiritual beings, (devils, ghosts and spooks) but not God. (T-Baby dressed up like a “spook” every Halloween, and even some other days. Nobody messed with him.) And where was the ACLU on Halloween? Don’t I have a right to not be bombarded by those little devils? I even saw Halloween decorations in some government buildings. Shouldn’t the ACLU have been there protecting my rights so I would not be emotionally damaged or religiously oppressed? Of course, I am just making a point.
I wonder how long it will take the ACLU to get on the anti-Thanksgiving bandwagon. First, they must admit that in order to give thanks, the One receiving thanks must be recognized. Interesting dilemma! But I’m sure it’s coming.
Like many of you, I long for a simpler day, such as that day in October 1863 when Abraham Lincoln wrote: “No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gift of the Most High God.” President Lincoln wrote those words in his proclamation making the fourth Thursday of November a National Day of Thanksgiving.
I am trying to “get my head around” how agnostics and atheists celebrate Thanksgiving. I have weightier matters to consider, but please humor me for a moment. Just how do atheists offer thanks?
If one says there is no God, or that one cannot know if there is a God, then is it possible to offer thanks at all? Oh, sure, I can thank the postal worker for delivering the mail, the newspaper delivery person, and so on. But what about saying thanks for the beauty of a sunset, the giggle of a grand daughter, or the beauty of Saturn’s rings? Seems to me those folks have it pretty tough, not being able to express heartfelt gratitude for the things that really matter. “Thank you, ye first amoeba, who started the chain of evolution that produced the likes of…let’s say…Weird Al Yankovich,” just doesn’t rank up there with “Now thank we all our God…”
Atheists must be careful they don’t slip up, and admit there is an “Intelligent Design” to all of creation, or that there could be something (Someone) other than this visible world.
I saw some of those atheists out trick or treating a couple weeks ago. Guess it is OK to acknowledge other spiritual beings, (devils, ghosts and spooks) but not God. (T-Baby dressed up like a “spook” every Halloween, and even some other days. Nobody messed with him.) And where was the ACLU on Halloween? Don’t I have a right to not be bombarded by those little devils? I even saw Halloween decorations in some government buildings. Shouldn’t the ACLU have been there protecting my rights so I would not be emotionally damaged or religiously oppressed? Of course, I am just making a point.
I wonder how long it will take the ACLU to get on the anti-Thanksgiving bandwagon. First, they must admit that in order to give thanks, the One receiving thanks must be recognized. Interesting dilemma! But I’m sure it’s coming.
Like many of you, I long for a simpler day, such as that day in October 1863 when Abraham Lincoln wrote: “No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gift of the Most High God.” President Lincoln wrote those words in his proclamation making the fourth Thursday of November a National Day of Thanksgiving.
On Jordan’s Stormy Banks
October 31, 2005
After centuries in Egyptian exile in, and after 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, the Israelites finally came to the banks of the Jordan River, the last obstacle to possessing the Promised Land. What impressed me most as we explored Joshua 3: 7-17 yesterday was how almost anti-climactic it was. The promise, given to Abraham, was finally about to be realized.
The same struggle between faith and fear they had experienced in Egypt and in the wilderness confronted the Hebrews as they stood on the banks of promise. First, the river was at flood stage. Who wants to cross a flooded river without a bridge, or a boat? Yet, when by faith they stepped into the river, the river parted, just as the Red Sea had done years before, and they were able to cross on dry ground.
It takes faith to step into the stormy river. But unless we exercise that kind of faith, we will never enter the Promised Land.
There is a big difference in casting a wistful eye into the Promised Land and in possessing it! It takes simple, yet determined steps of faith to possess the promises of God.
I thought about that in the context of Mrs. Rosa Park’s home-going. A half century ago, this gentle, kindly woman put her foot into the Jordan River in Montgomery, Alabama. She would not be denied her promised land. By faith, she faced the rivers’ torrents, and our world will never be the same.
“I am bound for the Promised Land,
I am bound for the Promised Land.
Oh, who will come and go with me,
I am bound for the Promised Land.”
After centuries in Egyptian exile in, and after 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, the Israelites finally came to the banks of the Jordan River, the last obstacle to possessing the Promised Land. What impressed me most as we explored Joshua 3: 7-17 yesterday was how almost anti-climactic it was. The promise, given to Abraham, was finally about to be realized.
The same struggle between faith and fear they had experienced in Egypt and in the wilderness confronted the Hebrews as they stood on the banks of promise. First, the river was at flood stage. Who wants to cross a flooded river without a bridge, or a boat? Yet, when by faith they stepped into the river, the river parted, just as the Red Sea had done years before, and they were able to cross on dry ground.
It takes faith to step into the stormy river. But unless we exercise that kind of faith, we will never enter the Promised Land.
There is a big difference in casting a wistful eye into the Promised Land and in possessing it! It takes simple, yet determined steps of faith to possess the promises of God.
I thought about that in the context of Mrs. Rosa Park’s home-going. A half century ago, this gentle, kindly woman put her foot into the Jordan River in Montgomery, Alabama. She would not be denied her promised land. By faith, she faced the rivers’ torrents, and our world will never be the same.
“I am bound for the Promised Land,
I am bound for the Promised Land.
Oh, who will come and go with me,
I am bound for the Promised Land.”
Victimology
October 24, 2005
One of my favorite characters in the entire Bible is Joseph in the book of Genesis. He was his father’s favorite son, and received the famous coat of many colors. Joseph was a bit too precocious with his brothers, who became so jealous of him they sold him into slavery. He wound up in Egypt a slave, spent time in prison, but rose to the highest circles of Egyptian government.
Joseph made more than his share of mistakes. (I can certainly identify with that.) But no matter how many times life knocked him to his knees; Joseph refused to play the role of victim. If life gave him lemons, he made lemonade. Joseph could have easily played the role of victim. “Oh poor, poor pitiful me!” It’s a popular game today, and many people make it a lifestyle. Some folks even make it a vocation. “Somebody, feel sorry for me, because …” and you fill in the blanks.
Let me give it a try. “Oh poor, poor pitiful me! Somebody, please feel sorry for me because…” (let me think)…I know: “because I was born in the most impoverished place in America.” Can’t get any poorer that the Delta. Surely, someone will feel sorry for me for being from poor, poor Mississippi. Actually, that will not work, because amid the poverty, I found opportunities to better myself with the help of a loving family, a nurturing community, and a solid faith in Jesus Christ. Today, I consider myself among the richest people in the world; not because of a bank account, but in the wealth of the things money cannot buy and the world cannot take away. And as most of you know, I’m proud to be from Yazoo City.
OK, now I have it. “Poor pitiful me! Somebody feel sorry for me because … I was born with what doctors now call spina bifida.” Yeah, I ought to get a few tears for that. And to make things worse, the treatment they gave me probably cause the tennis ball size tumor I now carry in my chest. But wait, I’m 6’5”, weigh 300 pounds, and feel better than I deserve. With people in much poorer health, I cannot complain.
I know. I’ll play “the race card”. Lot’s of folks seem to do that. “Poor, poor pitiful me. Feel sorry for me because I am …. (fill in the blank)”. My ancestors came to these shores from….Caucasia! (I cannot find Caucasia on the map, but that must be where they came from because people call me Caucasian. I hate it when they do that.) But that ain’t gonna work, either, because some of the smartest, hardest working and most successful people I know are “minorities”. As a Christian, I believe there is only one race: The HUMAN race.
This victimology is not easy. Let me give it one more attempt. Oh, this is a good one. I did not learn until I was an adult that I am dyslexic. Can I get a tear for that? No? (You are a tough audience.) Reading and learning were twice as hard for me as for most folks. What did you say? Yes, I found a way to read and learn, even got a masters and doctorate. Yes, I am 57 years old and still thrive on learning. Yes, as a university professor, I “keep my axe sharp” by helping young adults learn. Guess that blows my last chance at being a victim.
If we would spend just five minutes a day counting our blessings, instead of dwelling on the negatives, we would realize that we are richly blessed, and our lives would be transformed into powerful positive discipleship.
Move over, Joseph! Although you and I have gone through some tough times we probably do not want to re-live, neither one of us would make a good victim. We know, with the help of our Lord, life is what we make of it. If we want to be a victim, that’s who we will be. Or, “I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me!”
One of my favorite characters in the entire Bible is Joseph in the book of Genesis. He was his father’s favorite son, and received the famous coat of many colors. Joseph was a bit too precocious with his brothers, who became so jealous of him they sold him into slavery. He wound up in Egypt a slave, spent time in prison, but rose to the highest circles of Egyptian government.
Joseph made more than his share of mistakes. (I can certainly identify with that.) But no matter how many times life knocked him to his knees; Joseph refused to play the role of victim. If life gave him lemons, he made lemonade. Joseph could have easily played the role of victim. “Oh poor, poor pitiful me!” It’s a popular game today, and many people make it a lifestyle. Some folks even make it a vocation. “Somebody, feel sorry for me, because …” and you fill in the blanks.
Let me give it a try. “Oh poor, poor pitiful me! Somebody, please feel sorry for me because…” (let me think)…I know: “because I was born in the most impoverished place in America.” Can’t get any poorer that the Delta. Surely, someone will feel sorry for me for being from poor, poor Mississippi. Actually, that will not work, because amid the poverty, I found opportunities to better myself with the help of a loving family, a nurturing community, and a solid faith in Jesus Christ. Today, I consider myself among the richest people in the world; not because of a bank account, but in the wealth of the things money cannot buy and the world cannot take away. And as most of you know, I’m proud to be from Yazoo City.
OK, now I have it. “Poor pitiful me! Somebody feel sorry for me because … I was born with what doctors now call spina bifida.” Yeah, I ought to get a few tears for that. And to make things worse, the treatment they gave me probably cause the tennis ball size tumor I now carry in my chest. But wait, I’m 6’5”, weigh 300 pounds, and feel better than I deserve. With people in much poorer health, I cannot complain.
I know. I’ll play “the race card”. Lot’s of folks seem to do that. “Poor, poor pitiful me. Feel sorry for me because I am …. (fill in the blank)”. My ancestors came to these shores from….Caucasia! (I cannot find Caucasia on the map, but that must be where they came from because people call me Caucasian. I hate it when they do that.) But that ain’t gonna work, either, because some of the smartest, hardest working and most successful people I know are “minorities”. As a Christian, I believe there is only one race: The HUMAN race.
This victimology is not easy. Let me give it one more attempt. Oh, this is a good one. I did not learn until I was an adult that I am dyslexic. Can I get a tear for that? No? (You are a tough audience.) Reading and learning were twice as hard for me as for most folks. What did you say? Yes, I found a way to read and learn, even got a masters and doctorate. Yes, I am 57 years old and still thrive on learning. Yes, as a university professor, I “keep my axe sharp” by helping young adults learn. Guess that blows my last chance at being a victim.
If we would spend just five minutes a day counting our blessings, instead of dwelling on the negatives, we would realize that we are richly blessed, and our lives would be transformed into powerful positive discipleship.
Move over, Joseph! Although you and I have gone through some tough times we probably do not want to re-live, neither one of us would make a good victim. We know, with the help of our Lord, life is what we make of it. If we want to be a victim, that’s who we will be. Or, “I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me!”
Getting a Charge at Charge Conference
October 17, 2005
T-Baby had that feeling often. You could see it in his face; especially when Mrs. Parker at Yazoo City High School said, “Please close your books and take out a sheet of paper.” That was the time T-Baby remembered he was supposed to study for a test. As usual, he had NOT!
I had the same feeling yesterday when I arrived at Wesley United Methodist Church for our four-church “cluster” charge conference. (For non-Methodists, a charge conference is the annual business meeting of the local church.) Normally, the District Superintendent presides over 50 or more of these meetings a year, an enormous investment in time and resources. This year, we decided to better utilize our resources, and conduct four charge conferences at a time. The problem was our DS has been appointed to First UMC in La Jolla, and her interim replacement has not yet arrived.
T-Baby had that feeling often. You could see it in his face; especially when Mrs. Parker at Yazoo City High School said, “Please close your books and take out a sheet of paper.” That was the time T-Baby remembered he was supposed to study for a test. As usual, he had NOT!
I had the same feeling yesterday when I arrived at Wesley United Methodist Church for our four-church “cluster” charge conference. (For non-Methodists, a charge conference is the annual business meeting of the local church.) Normally, the District Superintendent presides over 50 or more of these meetings a year, an enormous investment in time and resources. This year, we decided to better utilize our resources, and conduct four charge conferences at a time. The problem was our DS has been appointed to First UMC in La Jolla, and her interim replacement has not yet arrived.
Consequently, the elders were instructed to become “presiding elders” for a couple hours, assuming the duties normally performed by our superintendent. Remember how I boasted last week about officially becoming an elder in full connection with the California-Pacific Conference? Well duty called sooner than I expected!
Dr. Emma Moore-Kochlas made the last seven charge conferences at Christ UMC easy for me. She knew the Book of Discipline like the back of her hand. All I had to do was get some reports ready with the help of our church leaders and follow her agenda.
Realizing my predicament, I wished I had paid closer attention while Emma performed her duties flawlessly. I also wished I had read the Book of Discipline before arriving at Wesley UMC; refreshing my memory of the policies of our church. But, as T-Baby knew too well, wishes are useless when you get caught like a deer in the headlights.
I had one last hope. Maybe I would preside over my own church charge conference. If I messed up, my church leaders would forgive me. Unlike USC at Notre Dame last Saturday, this was NOT my lucky day. Or was it? I was assigned to preside over Wesley UMC’s charge conference.
What a blessing! What a wonderful church! My spirit soared as I heard my neighboring congregation share reports of her marvelous ministries. Wesley UMC has three ethnic congregations: 500 Vietnamese members, a new Cambodian congregation, and an Anglo congregation. Their senior pastor, Bau Dang, proudly presented five candidates for ministry. What a gift to United Methodism and the church universal.
I fumbled through the agenda, and with the help of Pastor Dang and others, managed to recover from a few missed points of order. Wesley’s members forgave my mistakes. After an hour or more, the conference ended, and I realized what a great privilege I had just experienced.
As I left Wesley and started home amid the first rainfall of the season, I make a few mental notes.
I need to be a better neighbor to my three sister churches (Trinity, Normal Heights, and Wesley). It is too easy to live in a form of ecclesiastical isolation. Not only do we ministers need to fellowship more, but so do our congregations.
We are not in competition. We need to celebrate the victories and successes of our sister congregations. Let me say it again. We are NOT in competition.
God is blessing our congregations in similar and diverse ways. Many of the stories I heard sounded very familiar to circumstances at Christ Church. But many stories were unique, indicating how God is able to use each congregation and each member in ways no one else can be used.
And finally: Read The Book of Discipline, and stay current, because you never know when Mrs. Parker will say, “Please close your books…”
Apocalypse Now
October 11, 2005
Is it just my perception, or are we into a new reality with catastrophic disasters? First we had the tsunami, an event of such magnitude unseen in human history; then Hurricane Katrina set a new standard for destruction on American soil. Now the cataclysmic earthquake in Pakistan and India defies our comprehension. Throw in the occasional California wildfire and Iowa tornado for good measure, and it seems we have the “Apocalypse of the Week”.
In this age of special effects (and reality television) in which we routinely see airplanes and buildings explode, I fear we have become desensitized to the reality of pain and suffering. Take a trip to the Gulf Coast, and you will see that everything doesn’t turn out alright in an hour as it does on TV. And just in case we processed the calamities of the past few months and are growing complacent, you may now begin worrying about Avian (bird) flu, which has the potential to make the 1918 Pandemic pale in comparison.
What are we as Christians to make of all this? Romans 8:22 says, “For we know that all creation has been groaning with the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” Not only did mankind fall when sin entered the Garden of Eden, all creation fell as well. Not only does mankind need redemption, but so does creation. In Christ, the hope of glory, we have the hope of personal and cosmic redemption.
Are these signs of the end of time? Unlike many of my colleagues, God hasn’t placed me on the “Time, Place and Speaker Committee” to announce (with great precision) when the end of time will come. There are plenty of preachers eager to share his/her version of the timeline. Jesus said there would be “wars, and rumors of war, famine and pestilence in diverse places”. These, he said, were just the beginnings of what was to follow. Buckle you seatbelts, there is turbulence ahead.
Some Islamic clerics pronounced Hurricane Katrina as God’s judgment on America. I am waiting to hear how they rationalize the mind of God in light of the awful earthquake in Pakistan. Therein lies the quandary we shall not understand in this life. The rain falls upon the just and the unjust. Only God, in his infinite wisdom, can make bring justice, personal and cosmic redemption, producing good out of evil, and making the last first, and the first last.
THE METHODS OF METHODISM
I received notice last week that The United Methodist Church granted my request to transfer my elder’s orders from the Mississippi Conference to the California-Pacific Conference. For the past seven years, I have served our congregation in the Cal-Pac Conference while holding membership in the Mississippi. As all of you know, Yazoo River water runs through my veins and a part of my heart will always be in the Mississippi Conference that nurtured and loved me when I needed spiritual love the most. I am proud to now be a full member of the Cal-Pac Conference.
So what does this mean? It means I am eligible to be appointed to congregations from Santa Barbara, Simi Valley, Los Angeles, Beverly Hills, to Chula Vista and Imperial County. It also means I am eligible to be appointed to Honolulu, Guam and American Samoa. And if my Bishop appoints me to any of those places, I will gladly serve. But with everything being equal, I expect we will see no changes. I will request to be reappointed for an eighth year to Christ UMC, San Diego at our Charge Conference on October 16. And if Bishop Swenson agrees next June at Annual Conference, you will be stuck with me for another year. (Someone may well say, “He hasn’t gotten it right in seven years, let’s give him one more chance!”)
Is it just my perception, or are we into a new reality with catastrophic disasters? First we had the tsunami, an event of such magnitude unseen in human history; then Hurricane Katrina set a new standard for destruction on American soil. Now the cataclysmic earthquake in Pakistan and India defies our comprehension. Throw in the occasional California wildfire and Iowa tornado for good measure, and it seems we have the “Apocalypse of the Week”.
In this age of special effects (and reality television) in which we routinely see airplanes and buildings explode, I fear we have become desensitized to the reality of pain and suffering. Take a trip to the Gulf Coast, and you will see that everything doesn’t turn out alright in an hour as it does on TV. And just in case we processed the calamities of the past few months and are growing complacent, you may now begin worrying about Avian (bird) flu, which has the potential to make the 1918 Pandemic pale in comparison.
What are we as Christians to make of all this? Romans 8:22 says, “For we know that all creation has been groaning with the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” Not only did mankind fall when sin entered the Garden of Eden, all creation fell as well. Not only does mankind need redemption, but so does creation. In Christ, the hope of glory, we have the hope of personal and cosmic redemption.
Are these signs of the end of time? Unlike many of my colleagues, God hasn’t placed me on the “Time, Place and Speaker Committee” to announce (with great precision) when the end of time will come. There are plenty of preachers eager to share his/her version of the timeline. Jesus said there would be “wars, and rumors of war, famine and pestilence in diverse places”. These, he said, were just the beginnings of what was to follow. Buckle you seatbelts, there is turbulence ahead.
Some Islamic clerics pronounced Hurricane Katrina as God’s judgment on America. I am waiting to hear how they rationalize the mind of God in light of the awful earthquake in Pakistan. Therein lies the quandary we shall not understand in this life. The rain falls upon the just and the unjust. Only God, in his infinite wisdom, can make bring justice, personal and cosmic redemption, producing good out of evil, and making the last first, and the first last.
THE METHODS OF METHODISM
I received notice last week that The United Methodist Church granted my request to transfer my elder’s orders from the Mississippi Conference to the California-Pacific Conference. For the past seven years, I have served our congregation in the Cal-Pac Conference while holding membership in the Mississippi. As all of you know, Yazoo River water runs through my veins and a part of my heart will always be in the Mississippi Conference that nurtured and loved me when I needed spiritual love the most. I am proud to now be a full member of the Cal-Pac Conference.
So what does this mean? It means I am eligible to be appointed to congregations from Santa Barbara, Simi Valley, Los Angeles, Beverly Hills, to Chula Vista and Imperial County. It also means I am eligible to be appointed to Honolulu, Guam and American Samoa. And if my Bishop appoints me to any of those places, I will gladly serve. But with everything being equal, I expect we will see no changes. I will request to be reappointed for an eighth year to Christ UMC, San Diego at our Charge Conference on October 16. And if Bishop Swenson agrees next June at Annual Conference, you will be stuck with me for another year. (Someone may well say, “He hasn’t gotten it right in seven years, let’s give him one more chance!”)
Eagles Wings
October 3, 2005
Chaplain Ron Ritter is an amazing person. He told me, “My life is divided into two parts. The first part of my life is prior to September 18, 1985. The second part is that day, and everything after.” I asked the obvious question, “What happened on that day that was so profound it became the watershed of your life?” “That was the day my son died in an automobile accident.” Ron said.
An ordained Lutheran minister, Navy Chaplain, and theologian, Chaplain Ritter said the experience of losing his son verified what he suspected for a long time. “The church does a lousy job of grief ministry.” (Keep in mind Ron was a Lutheran parish minister at the time.) “Oh sure, the church does a fair job of holding folks together up until and through the funeral service. But after that, the church is usually is nowhere to be found.”
Ritter’s pilgrimage of sorrow led him to explore a deeper understanding of grief; how congregations and clergy can do more to minister to the grieving. The process can be measured in years, not days, weeks or months. The outcome of Chaplain Ritter’s pilgrimage is an organization he founded called “Eagles Wings”; ministering to the grief of veteran’s widows (and widowers).
Ritter estimates 19 veterans died each day in the San Diego area. Most of these are World War II and Korean War veterans, but an increasing number of Vietnam era vets are dying. Eagles Wings offers four one-month-long programs (one per quarter) each year in which veteran widows gather, express their loss, and work through what we have come to call “the grief process”. They meet four Sunday afternoons every fourth month in the Chapel at Balboa Park. The final service ends with a pot-luck meal. During the two months they do not meet each quarter, Eagles Wings offers support to grieving veteran widows.
Chaplain Ritter invited me to become involved with this wonderful ministry. He introduced me to the larger community of Grief Therapy, extending the opportunity to attend their annual conference in Phoenix. As my schedule permits, I shall become more involved with Eagles Wings, with the goal of become a better grief minister.
“I have come to understand that if the church is to do an adequate job of grief ministry, it must become a ministry of the laity. The minister cannot do it alone,” Ron said.
“Grief is the price we must pay for loving,” Ron continued. “The church teaches us to love. It should also teach us how to grieve.”
Chaplain Ron Ritter is an amazing person. He told me, “My life is divided into two parts. The first part of my life is prior to September 18, 1985. The second part is that day, and everything after.” I asked the obvious question, “What happened on that day that was so profound it became the watershed of your life?” “That was the day my son died in an automobile accident.” Ron said.
An ordained Lutheran minister, Navy Chaplain, and theologian, Chaplain Ritter said the experience of losing his son verified what he suspected for a long time. “The church does a lousy job of grief ministry.” (Keep in mind Ron was a Lutheran parish minister at the time.) “Oh sure, the church does a fair job of holding folks together up until and through the funeral service. But after that, the church is usually is nowhere to be found.”
Ritter’s pilgrimage of sorrow led him to explore a deeper understanding of grief; how congregations and clergy can do more to minister to the grieving. The process can be measured in years, not days, weeks or months. The outcome of Chaplain Ritter’s pilgrimage is an organization he founded called “Eagles Wings”; ministering to the grief of veteran’s widows (and widowers).
Ritter estimates 19 veterans died each day in the San Diego area. Most of these are World War II and Korean War veterans, but an increasing number of Vietnam era vets are dying. Eagles Wings offers four one-month-long programs (one per quarter) each year in which veteran widows gather, express their loss, and work through what we have come to call “the grief process”. They meet four Sunday afternoons every fourth month in the Chapel at Balboa Park. The final service ends with a pot-luck meal. During the two months they do not meet each quarter, Eagles Wings offers support to grieving veteran widows.
Chaplain Ritter invited me to become involved with this wonderful ministry. He introduced me to the larger community of Grief Therapy, extending the opportunity to attend their annual conference in Phoenix. As my schedule permits, I shall become more involved with Eagles Wings, with the goal of become a better grief minister.
“I have come to understand that if the church is to do an adequate job of grief ministry, it must become a ministry of the laity. The minister cannot do it alone,” Ron said.
“Grief is the price we must pay for loving,” Ron continued. “The church teaches us to love. It should also teach us how to grieve.”
ACTS: The Strategic Church
September 26, 2005
In my weekday work, I have the unique opportunity to work with the best technical and strategic minds in San Diego. What I learn from these visionaries (who provide innovative leadership for the most forward thinking companies in California) is that organizational survival depends upon the strategic vision of the leaders, and the corresponding support of members in achieving the vision. Or, as the Bible puts it: “Where there is no vision, the people perish.”
Currently, I am working with visionaries in redesigning Information Technology operations using Enterprise Computing Institute’s methodology for designing, implementing, and managing world-class infrastructures. This affords me the opportunity to learn and apply such principles as strategic planning, performance measures, the Harvard Business School’s “balanced scorecard” model, and world-class industry best practices.
Realizing many clergy have no such opportunity, I feel a responsibility accompanies this privilege. What I learn about strategic technology management, I attempt to apply to the church. While the church is not “a business,” that fact does not excuse the church from responsible strategic planning. Jesus was a strategic visionary who practiced (and expects from us) good church management and stewardship.
Like most institutions, the church is slow to change, and often the last to implement and benefit from technical and strategic best practices. In the early 1980s, (shortly after IBM released its Model 1 desktop computer, and long before the Internet) I wrote my doctoral dissertation at Columbia Theological Seminary on Church Database Administration. My biggest challenge was convincing the “church fathers” who sat on my dissertation committee that computers and databases would one day transform the way churches operate. The chair of my dissertation asked, “What do computers have to do with the church?” A quarter century later, many churches are finally realizing that technology and strategic management apply to us as much as General Motors.
Technology enables the church to fulfill its mission to “Go into the entire world, teaching and making disciples”. With our re-flattened world, and with dwindling resources, the church MUST begin to think strategically.
To that end, some of my most capable colleagues and I are forming ACTS, The Academy for Church Technology and Strategy, a non-profit organization providing technical and strategic resources to churches and church leaders who may otherwise not have access to these vital resources. I invite clergy and laity in all denominations who share a vision of The Strategic Church to join with us, sharing what we know (and learn) to equip the Church in accomplishing her mission in this challenging and rapidly changing world. This will be an exciting extension ministry at Christ United Methodist Church. Details will be forthcoming. Pray for us.
In my weekday work, I have the unique opportunity to work with the best technical and strategic minds in San Diego. What I learn from these visionaries (who provide innovative leadership for the most forward thinking companies in California) is that organizational survival depends upon the strategic vision of the leaders, and the corresponding support of members in achieving the vision. Or, as the Bible puts it: “Where there is no vision, the people perish.”
Currently, I am working with visionaries in redesigning Information Technology operations using Enterprise Computing Institute’s methodology for designing, implementing, and managing world-class infrastructures. This affords me the opportunity to learn and apply such principles as strategic planning, performance measures, the Harvard Business School’s “balanced scorecard” model, and world-class industry best practices.
Realizing many clergy have no such opportunity, I feel a responsibility accompanies this privilege. What I learn about strategic technology management, I attempt to apply to the church. While the church is not “a business,” that fact does not excuse the church from responsible strategic planning. Jesus was a strategic visionary who practiced (and expects from us) good church management and stewardship.
Like most institutions, the church is slow to change, and often the last to implement and benefit from technical and strategic best practices. In the early 1980s, (shortly after IBM released its Model 1 desktop computer, and long before the Internet) I wrote my doctoral dissertation at Columbia Theological Seminary on Church Database Administration. My biggest challenge was convincing the “church fathers” who sat on my dissertation committee that computers and databases would one day transform the way churches operate. The chair of my dissertation asked, “What do computers have to do with the church?” A quarter century later, many churches are finally realizing that technology and strategic management apply to us as much as General Motors.
Technology enables the church to fulfill its mission to “Go into the entire world, teaching and making disciples”. With our re-flattened world, and with dwindling resources, the church MUST begin to think strategically.
To that end, some of my most capable colleagues and I are forming ACTS, The Academy for Church Technology and Strategy, a non-profit organization providing technical and strategic resources to churches and church leaders who may otherwise not have access to these vital resources. I invite clergy and laity in all denominations who share a vision of The Strategic Church to join with us, sharing what we know (and learn) to equip the Church in accomplishing her mission in this challenging and rapidly changing world. This will be an exciting extension ministry at Christ United Methodist Church. Details will be forthcoming. Pray for us.
The Genuine Samaritans
September 19, 2005
Bishop T. D. Jakes of the Potter’s House delivered a powerful sermon Friday at Washington’s National Cathedral as our nation observed a National Day of Prayer for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Bishop Jakes used the story of the Good Samaritan as the setting for measuring responses to the wounded and helpless. That wonderful message, the best I have heard in along time, contained five basic ideas. For those of you who may not have heard it, and with apologies to Bishop Jakes for my “borrowing” his ideas (and certainly not communicating them as well as he did), I share these recollections.
- The Levite and the priest teach us that restoration is more than observation. These religious leaders saw the man in need, but passed by on the other side, offering no help; pretending he was not there; keeping to their tight schedule; and saying, “Someone else can help him.” We see the wounded and helpless in New Orleans, Hancock County, and Biloxi. Will the church pass by on the other side of the road? (Note: There are 300,000 displaced people from New Orleans. There are 300,000 faith congregations in the United States. Somebody, do the math!)
- Real ministry is willing to reach beyond our neighborhoods. Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan in response to a question about “who is my neighbor?” That gets to the heart of the law and prophets, for the greatest “laws” are to love God and my neighbor as myself. If I neatly define my neighbors as people like me, whom I like, then the task is easy. But for a Samaritan to love a Jew, that takes courage!
- To help those beaten down, we must get off our high horses. The Samaritan got off his horse, and got down to where the wounded man lay. Jakes said, “Until we love enough to trade places with the poor…then healing will not be real.” He added, “You cannot help people if you exult yourself above them.” (Can I get an Amen?)
- Resources, not rhetoric, changed this man’s life. Jakes reminded us that in no instance does the Samaritan speak to the wounded man. No blaming, no sermonizing, no pontificating about how he got himself in this situation. No words, just deeds, binding up wounds, healing, and genuine ministry. Many good sounding promises are being made; but the proof will be in actions, not words.
- Finally, relationships are productive. The fact that the Samaritan knew, and held the respect, of the inn keeper, created a hospital for the wounded man. Note also that the Samaritan paid for his care. Ministry always costs us something, or it is not genuine.
Bishop Jakes added these five points are like five fingers on our hands, poised to “stretch out and touch the hurting, the poor, and the underserved.” “We cannot multiply by dividing. We cannot add by subtracting.”
Wow! I wish I could preach like that. Thank you Bishop Jakes. Amen, and another Amen.
Operation Baby Buggy
September 12, 2005
On Saturday, less than two weeks after Emilie Hersh, VP of InterKnowlogy in Carlsbad, CA, called to say her company had an 18-wheeler available to transport needed items to the victims of Hurricane Katrina on the Gulf Coast, “Operation Baby Buggy” filled the trailer in front of Christ United Methodist Church in San Diego. The truck began its 2,000 mile journey with assistance for the babies in Hancock County, MS. In addition, Operation Baby Buggy raised almost $3,000.00 for United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) Hurricane Katrina direct assistance.
Pictures are worth a thousand words. I’ll let them tell the story.
On Saturday, less than two weeks after Emilie Hersh, VP of InterKnowlogy in Carlsbad, CA, called to say her company had an 18-wheeler available to transport needed items to the victims of Hurricane Katrina on the Gulf Coast, “Operation Baby Buggy” filled the trailer in front of Christ United Methodist Church in San Diego. The truck began its 2,000 mile journey with assistance for the babies in Hancock County, MS. In addition, Operation Baby Buggy raised almost $3,000.00 for United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) Hurricane Katrina direct assistance.
Pictures are worth a thousand words. I’ll let them tell the story.
When the Saints Go Marching (Again)
September 5, 2005
Yazoo City, Mississippi - Greetings from near “Ground Zero” where devastation and misery are every bit as bad as the news stories you have seen. This is indeed the worst natural disaster in our nation’s history. Far into central Mississippi, the destruction resembles what we are accustomed to seeing only on the Gulf Coast. When gas stations get fuel, the lines are often miles long. I sat in a gas line this morning to refuel my mother’s car. Police attempt to keep order and peace with folks whose patience is wearing thin. Many families are entering their second week with no electricity, water, or basic necessities in 95 degree heat and humidity.
My extended family in Mississippi and Louisiana is safe and blessed. Nephew Joey Wilkinson’s home in Hattiesburg sustained relatively moderate damage and loss of electricity. We do not know the status of Wanda Gregg’s residence (my cousin) in New Orleans. She is safe at her brother’s home in Springfield, Tennessee.
Weeks ago, I planned a quick, quiet Labor Day weekend visit with my family in Yazoo City. Hurricane Katrina changed all that. As late as last Wednesday, I resolved to cancel my trip. After all, I would just add to the problems. Then I received a call from a friend, Emilie Hersh in San Diego, whose company had an 18-wheeler available to take supplies to an area in need. She said, “You are from Mississippi, and our company wants to help folks in an area most likely to be missed in the relief efforts.” She indicated she would route the trailer to the location I suggested. What a blessing!
God was speaking to me through Emilie. Only a few minutes before her call, God reminded me Hancock County, my home for six of the twelve years I lived on the Mississippi Coast, was likely to be overlooked. It lies between New Orleans and Biloxi. Reports indicated Katrina’s highest winds and tallest storm surge destroyed much of Hancock County, including the town of Waveland, completely wiped off the map. I was a Methodist “circuit rider” in Hancock County, preaching at Diamondhead (a church I helped start) at 8:00, Pearlington at 9:30 and Clermont Harbor at 11:00. Clermont Harbor borders Waveland, and reports are nothing is left in that wonderful little community. I am still trying to contact the folks at Pearlington and Diamondhead.
With this “Hancock County Mission” on my heart, I boarded my flight and arrived in Mississippi late Thursday. From the safe harbor of my mother’s home, where the electricity returned providentially, I learned from both the Mississippi Emergency Management Association (MEMA) and United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) there is great need for baby and small children supplies in…you guessed it…Hancock County. God was speaking to me again!
When I return to San Diego Tuesday, I will attempt to pull God’s directives for “Operation: Hancock County Babies”, together. It is the least I (we) can do. We will have an opportunity to help fill a trailer with diapers, baby food, baby clothes, formula, wipes, toys, baby-grade insect repellant, nursing bottles, and a long list of supplies desperately needed by the most vulnerable victims of this disaster…the babies and children of Hancock County, MS.
Bethany United Methodist Church cancelled their early worship and First United Methodist Church in Yazoo City cancelled their revival services because of downed trees and electricity outages. I was delighted to preach at 10:45 Sunday to a congregation of nearly 400 at Parkview Church of God in Yazoo City, the church where my mother and sister, Linda, are active members. Their wonderful pastor Ken Lynch was gracious to open his pulpit to this United Methodist preacher. We share a Wesleyan heritage.
My sermon was “When the Saints Go Marching (Again)” inspired by an amazing image I shall never forget. A photo showed three men walking out of New Orleans amid indescribable devastation. The photo, taken from behind, showed the men walking side by side, with the man in the center wearing a tuba, as if he was in a marching band. The tuba was as big as he was. Why, I wondered, would he wear that large instrument out of New Orleans in that heat, even if it was his only surviving possession? Then it dawned on me...HE EXPECTS TO PLAY MUSIC AGAIN IN NEW ORLEANS! What a message of hope and faith! And what wonderful music they will again play in New Orleans.
“O Lord, I want to be in that number, when the SAINTS go marching in (again)!”
Yazoo City, Mississippi - Greetings from near “Ground Zero” where devastation and misery are every bit as bad as the news stories you have seen. This is indeed the worst natural disaster in our nation’s history. Far into central Mississippi, the destruction resembles what we are accustomed to seeing only on the Gulf Coast. When gas stations get fuel, the lines are often miles long. I sat in a gas line this morning to refuel my mother’s car. Police attempt to keep order and peace with folks whose patience is wearing thin. Many families are entering their second week with no electricity, water, or basic necessities in 95 degree heat and humidity.
My extended family in Mississippi and Louisiana is safe and blessed. Nephew Joey Wilkinson’s home in Hattiesburg sustained relatively moderate damage and loss of electricity. We do not know the status of Wanda Gregg’s residence (my cousin) in New Orleans. She is safe at her brother’s home in Springfield, Tennessee.
Weeks ago, I planned a quick, quiet Labor Day weekend visit with my family in Yazoo City. Hurricane Katrina changed all that. As late as last Wednesday, I resolved to cancel my trip. After all, I would just add to the problems. Then I received a call from a friend, Emilie Hersh in San Diego, whose company had an 18-wheeler available to take supplies to an area in need. She said, “You are from Mississippi, and our company wants to help folks in an area most likely to be missed in the relief efforts.” She indicated she would route the trailer to the location I suggested. What a blessing!
God was speaking to me through Emilie. Only a few minutes before her call, God reminded me Hancock County, my home for six of the twelve years I lived on the Mississippi Coast, was likely to be overlooked. It lies between New Orleans and Biloxi. Reports indicated Katrina’s highest winds and tallest storm surge destroyed much of Hancock County, including the town of Waveland, completely wiped off the map. I was a Methodist “circuit rider” in Hancock County, preaching at Diamondhead (a church I helped start) at 8:00, Pearlington at 9:30 and Clermont Harbor at 11:00. Clermont Harbor borders Waveland, and reports are nothing is left in that wonderful little community. I am still trying to contact the folks at Pearlington and Diamondhead.
With this “Hancock County Mission” on my heart, I boarded my flight and arrived in Mississippi late Thursday. From the safe harbor of my mother’s home, where the electricity returned providentially, I learned from both the Mississippi Emergency Management Association (MEMA) and United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) there is great need for baby and small children supplies in…you guessed it…Hancock County. God was speaking to me again!
When I return to San Diego Tuesday, I will attempt to pull God’s directives for “Operation: Hancock County Babies”, together. It is the least I (we) can do. We will have an opportunity to help fill a trailer with diapers, baby food, baby clothes, formula, wipes, toys, baby-grade insect repellant, nursing bottles, and a long list of supplies desperately needed by the most vulnerable victims of this disaster…the babies and children of Hancock County, MS.
Bethany United Methodist Church cancelled their early worship and First United Methodist Church in Yazoo City cancelled their revival services because of downed trees and electricity outages. I was delighted to preach at 10:45 Sunday to a congregation of nearly 400 at Parkview Church of God in Yazoo City, the church where my mother and sister, Linda, are active members. Their wonderful pastor Ken Lynch was gracious to open his pulpit to this United Methodist preacher. We share a Wesleyan heritage.
My sermon was “When the Saints Go Marching (Again)” inspired by an amazing image I shall never forget. A photo showed three men walking out of New Orleans amid indescribable devastation. The photo, taken from behind, showed the men walking side by side, with the man in the center wearing a tuba, as if he was in a marching band. The tuba was as big as he was. Why, I wondered, would he wear that large instrument out of New Orleans in that heat, even if it was his only surviving possession? Then it dawned on me...HE EXPECTS TO PLAY MUSIC AGAIN IN NEW ORLEANS! What a message of hope and faith! And what wonderful music they will again play in New Orleans.
“O Lord, I want to be in that number, when the SAINTS go marching in (again)!”
When the Storms of Life are Raging, Stand by Me
August 29, 2005
As I write these words, Hurricane Katrina is pounding the Louisiana and Mississippi Gulf coasts. As many of you know, I lived almost a dozen years along the Mississippi Coast from Biloxi, Gulfport, Pass Christian, Bay St. Louis and Pearlington. Those communities, according to the news reports, are taking the brunt of the storm because they lie in the northeast quadrant of the storm’s eye where the winds and water surge are usually the worst. My cousin, Wanda Gregg, lives in New Orleans, and wisely left before the rush. Please join with me in praying for those dear folks (and especially the churches in that area) that God will be “an ever present help in the time of danger”.
Ironically, I will be headed to Mississippi this Thursday for a Labor Day weekend family visit. Yazoo City is in the central part of the state, but I recall in 1969 when Hurricane Camille came through the same area, trees were down all the way to Cleveland’s Delta State University, a hundred miles south of Memphis. I will preach twice Sunday morning; once at Bethany United Methodist Church on Graball-Freerun Road (yes, that’s the same Graball Hill where I grew up, and where members of the Collins family attend church), and then at Parkview Church of God where my mother and sister, Linda, attend. Sunday night, I will attend revival services at First United Methodist in Yazoo City with my sister, Marietta, and family. It will be a short and busy trip, but I hope to gather plenty of new “kudzu stories” for my next book. I plan to catch a “red eye” Tuesday morning and should be back in San Diego by noon.
Don’t miss watching the San Diego Charger’s game Thursday night against the San Francisco 49ers. Our very own Jordan Mitchell, son of Huey and Gretchen Mitchell and grandson of Charlene Savage, will be the “Ball Boy” for the Chargers. He will get to spend the entire game on the sidelines with the Chargers, and will run onto the field to retrieve the kicking tee after each kickoff. I calculate I will be 30,000 feet over El Paso when the game kicks off, but will video tape it. Congratulations, Jordan. What an honor and lifetime memory!
As I write these words, Hurricane Katrina is pounding the Louisiana and Mississippi Gulf coasts. As many of you know, I lived almost a dozen years along the Mississippi Coast from Biloxi, Gulfport, Pass Christian, Bay St. Louis and Pearlington. Those communities, according to the news reports, are taking the brunt of the storm because they lie in the northeast quadrant of the storm’s eye where the winds and water surge are usually the worst. My cousin, Wanda Gregg, lives in New Orleans, and wisely left before the rush. Please join with me in praying for those dear folks (and especially the churches in that area) that God will be “an ever present help in the time of danger”.
Ironically, I will be headed to Mississippi this Thursday for a Labor Day weekend family visit. Yazoo City is in the central part of the state, but I recall in 1969 when Hurricane Camille came through the same area, trees were down all the way to Cleveland’s Delta State University, a hundred miles south of Memphis. I will preach twice Sunday morning; once at Bethany United Methodist Church on Graball-Freerun Road (yes, that’s the same Graball Hill where I grew up, and where members of the Collins family attend church), and then at Parkview Church of God where my mother and sister, Linda, attend. Sunday night, I will attend revival services at First United Methodist in Yazoo City with my sister, Marietta, and family. It will be a short and busy trip, but I hope to gather plenty of new “kudzu stories” for my next book. I plan to catch a “red eye” Tuesday morning and should be back in San Diego by noon.
Don’t miss watching the San Diego Charger’s game Thursday night against the San Francisco 49ers. Our very own Jordan Mitchell, son of Huey and Gretchen Mitchell and grandson of Charlene Savage, will be the “Ball Boy” for the Chargers. He will get to spend the entire game on the sidelines with the Chargers, and will run onto the field to retrieve the kicking tee after each kickoff. I calculate I will be 30,000 feet over El Paso when the game kicks off, but will video tape it. Congratulations, Jordan. What an honor and lifetime memory!
Give Me Oil in My Lamp
August 22, 2005
Over the past couple weeks I heard several dire predictions about where the current oil crisis may lead us. I’m not just talking about $3.00 a gallon gasoline (or $5.00 or $10.00). One geology professor said it took 100 million years to make the current supply of oil, and in just 100 years, we have effectively used it all up. There are ominous implications from the current fuel crisis for the world’s economies, geo-political-military situation, and everyday lifestyle.
One phrase we will hear more and more in the future is that we must learn to “live locally”; that is, draw our food, energy, and life essentials from within a small radius of where we live. For example, the salad you ate for lunch may have come from 3,000 miles away; the steak may have come from Argentina, the fish from Southeast Asia. In an energy depleted world, it will cost far too much to bring many of the delicacies (necessities to most of us) to our homes. So what will we be willing to give up (as if we had a choice)? Not my Brazilian coffee.
Now that I have you totally depressed, let me say I can remember living on Graball Hill in Yazoo City, MS. We didn’t have running water (except I ran it in buckets from the cistern to the house), cooked on a wood burning stove, raised our own hogs and chickens, grew and canned our own veggies and fruits, washed our clothes on a scrub board and hung them out to dry. (Can you hear the violins playing in the background, or are those banjos?) Like the county song says, “A Country Boy Will Survive!”
Why bring all this up? First, we need to understand, amid the increasingly God-“less” ness in our daily lives, how quickly we may go from feast to famine. We are not as “independent” as we may think…especially from the need of a personal relationship with God. Secondly, the impending energy crisis presents challenges (and opportunities) for the church to begin thinking about NOW, not five or ten years from now when our lamps are out of oil. Thirdly, we need not panic, but grow our faith in God who promised us an abundant life through Jesus Christ.
Oil was symbolic of miracles, healing and even faith throughout the Bible. Where one’s faith stopped, so did the supply of oil. My faith is in our God who holds the wealth of all resources in His hands. My God doesn’t have an energy crisis.
Over the past couple weeks I heard several dire predictions about where the current oil crisis may lead us. I’m not just talking about $3.00 a gallon gasoline (or $5.00 or $10.00). One geology professor said it took 100 million years to make the current supply of oil, and in just 100 years, we have effectively used it all up. There are ominous implications from the current fuel crisis for the world’s economies, geo-political-military situation, and everyday lifestyle.
One phrase we will hear more and more in the future is that we must learn to “live locally”; that is, draw our food, energy, and life essentials from within a small radius of where we live. For example, the salad you ate for lunch may have come from 3,000 miles away; the steak may have come from Argentina, the fish from Southeast Asia. In an energy depleted world, it will cost far too much to bring many of the delicacies (necessities to most of us) to our homes. So what will we be willing to give up (as if we had a choice)? Not my Brazilian coffee.
Now that I have you totally depressed, let me say I can remember living on Graball Hill in Yazoo City, MS. We didn’t have running water (except I ran it in buckets from the cistern to the house), cooked on a wood burning stove, raised our own hogs and chickens, grew and canned our own veggies and fruits, washed our clothes on a scrub board and hung them out to dry. (Can you hear the violins playing in the background, or are those banjos?) Like the county song says, “A Country Boy Will Survive!”
Why bring all this up? First, we need to understand, amid the increasingly God-“less” ness in our daily lives, how quickly we may go from feast to famine. We are not as “independent” as we may think…especially from the need of a personal relationship with God. Secondly, the impending energy crisis presents challenges (and opportunities) for the church to begin thinking about NOW, not five or ten years from now when our lamps are out of oil. Thirdly, we need not panic, but grow our faith in God who promised us an abundant life through Jesus Christ.
Oil was symbolic of miracles, healing and even faith throughout the Bible. Where one’s faith stopped, so did the supply of oil. My faith is in our God who holds the wealth of all resources in His hands. My God doesn’t have an energy crisis.
Religion Lite
August 15, 2005
There is a scene in the 1979 move “Salem’s Lot”, in which the local priest tells a young couple whose son is missing, “Over the last century the church and society have changed “Evil (with a capital ‘E’) to evil (with a lower case ‘e’.)” That declaration holds true a quarter century later, and offers insight into how Evil has become pervasive in our society. Satan’s oldest trick was to tell Eve “the Apple” was only “an apple”, or whatever undesignated fruit she ate in disobedience to God’s single command.
I wish to expand upon the priest of Salem’s observation.
Evil is now evil. We don’t want to name Evil, so we give it a generic name. So terrorists are not Evil, they are just religious fanatics (evil). Child molesters are not Evil, they are just products of misguided, abusive and neglected childhoods of their own (evil). Gangs are not Evil, they are just the product of social and economic injustice (evil).
God is now god. Lest we offend anyone, we dare not name God. So, to be considerate of all gods, let’s just call Him god. Yeah, that’s it…the generic god. But isn’t that idolatry? Was that what Solomon did in trying to accommodate the gods of his 300 wives and 700 concubines? And doesn’t that break the first and greatest commandment?
Sin is now sin. If we no longer call good “Good” and evil “Evil”, then we certainly cannot call sin “Sin”. But what shall we call it? Let’s just say everyone makes “mistakes”. Yeah, that sounds so much better. Murder is no longer murder, adultery is no longer adultery, sealing and lying are no longer… you get the picture.
Hell is now hell. Eternal damnation has lost its flame. The consequences of Sin (oh, I’m sorry, sin) are no longer to be feared. Live life to its fullest, you only go around once. All this talk about accountability, responsibility, salvation and judgment is just preacher talk. Heck, (notice I said “Heck”, not “Hell”) there probably isn’t an afterlife or eternity anyway. So eat, drink and be happy!
This form of religion, (Let’s call it Religion Lite) is a gentler, kinder form of religion. It must have broad appeal, because most people haven’t seen a sin, evil, or God in decades. They say their life is a living hell, although they don’t believe there really is a hell. Go figure!
Call me a maverick, but I haven’t joined the First Religion Lite Church. My faith at times prevents me from being politically correct, requiring me to speak the truth in love. Such demands!
Jesus said if anyone is not willing to confess Him, neither will Jesus confess that person before His Father. If anyone is not willing to take up their cross daily, they cannot be His disciple.
There is a scene in the 1979 move “Salem’s Lot”, in which the local priest tells a young couple whose son is missing, “Over the last century the church and society have changed “Evil (with a capital ‘E’) to evil (with a lower case ‘e’.)” That declaration holds true a quarter century later, and offers insight into how Evil has become pervasive in our society. Satan’s oldest trick was to tell Eve “the Apple” was only “an apple”, or whatever undesignated fruit she ate in disobedience to God’s single command.
I wish to expand upon the priest of Salem’s observation.
Evil is now evil. We don’t want to name Evil, so we give it a generic name. So terrorists are not Evil, they are just religious fanatics (evil). Child molesters are not Evil, they are just products of misguided, abusive and neglected childhoods of their own (evil). Gangs are not Evil, they are just the product of social and economic injustice (evil).
God is now god. Lest we offend anyone, we dare not name God. So, to be considerate of all gods, let’s just call Him god. Yeah, that’s it…the generic god. But isn’t that idolatry? Was that what Solomon did in trying to accommodate the gods of his 300 wives and 700 concubines? And doesn’t that break the first and greatest commandment?
Sin is now sin. If we no longer call good “Good” and evil “Evil”, then we certainly cannot call sin “Sin”. But what shall we call it? Let’s just say everyone makes “mistakes”. Yeah, that sounds so much better. Murder is no longer murder, adultery is no longer adultery, sealing and lying are no longer… you get the picture.
Hell is now hell. Eternal damnation has lost its flame. The consequences of Sin (oh, I’m sorry, sin) are no longer to be feared. Live life to its fullest, you only go around once. All this talk about accountability, responsibility, salvation and judgment is just preacher talk. Heck, (notice I said “Heck”, not “Hell”) there probably isn’t an afterlife or eternity anyway. So eat, drink and be happy!
This form of religion, (Let’s call it Religion Lite) is a gentler, kinder form of religion. It must have broad appeal, because most people haven’t seen a sin, evil, or God in decades. They say their life is a living hell, although they don’t believe there really is a hell. Go figure!
Call me a maverick, but I haven’t joined the First Religion Lite Church. My faith at times prevents me from being politically correct, requiring me to speak the truth in love. Such demands!
Jesus said if anyone is not willing to confess Him, neither will Jesus confess that person before His Father. If anyone is not willing to take up their cross daily, they cannot be His disciple.
The Wings of the Morning
August 8, 2005
Over the past several days, like many of you, I prayed for the well-being of human beings in peril aboard vessels in distress. One group is our astronauts aboard a space shuttle Columbia, ominously in similar trouble to the last voyage that ended in horrible tragedy. The other group is the Russian sailors trapped on the ocean floor, again ominously in similar trouble to another tragedy five years ago.
No one is beyond the caring hand of God, even when dancing among the stars or plumbing the depths of the abyss. The Psalmist knew this long before the age of spaceships and submarines.
“Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.” (Psalms 139:7-10)
That the voyagers died aboard the Russian submarine Kursk in August 2000 and America’s Columbia in 2003 does not diminish the fact that God’s hand leads and holds us on our journey through life. The providence of God is not that we shall escape every danger, but when danger comes, God is in the midst of our trials.
In 1987, an 18-month old baby girl named Jessica fell into a narrow abandoned well near Midland, Texas. The world seemed to come to a stand still, holding its collective breath for three days as rescuers worked non-stop to free Jessica from her miry pit. The sight of Jessica in the arms of a rescuer reminded us that no matter how deep a hole in which we find ourselves, no matter how desperate our circumstances, and no matter how insignificant we may seem against the backdrop of time and eternity, the wings of the morning carry us into the loving arms of our heavenly Father. In the eyes of God, the value of each life is infinite, whether astronauts or submariners or a precious baby girl. For God so loved…
Thank you, O Lord, for your leading, holding hand amid the wings of the morning.
Personal note: I well remember August 2000. That was the birth of my granddaughter, Kat. As most of you know, she owns a lot of real estate in my heart. Thank you for allowing me to be away in Simi Valley this past weekend to participate in her birthday party. Thank you, especially, David Stump, for preaching in my absence. Saturday night, I was on the floor with Kat, who took great delight in using my large old body as a “jungle gym”. Anita asked Kat, “Why are you crawling all over Paw Paw?” Without hesitation, she answered, “Because I am the ‘grand’ daughter!” Indeed, she is.
Over the past several days, like many of you, I prayed for the well-being of human beings in peril aboard vessels in distress. One group is our astronauts aboard a space shuttle Columbia, ominously in similar trouble to the last voyage that ended in horrible tragedy. The other group is the Russian sailors trapped on the ocean floor, again ominously in similar trouble to another tragedy five years ago.
No one is beyond the caring hand of God, even when dancing among the stars or plumbing the depths of the abyss. The Psalmist knew this long before the age of spaceships and submarines.
“Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.” (Psalms 139:7-10)
That the voyagers died aboard the Russian submarine Kursk in August 2000 and America’s Columbia in 2003 does not diminish the fact that God’s hand leads and holds us on our journey through life. The providence of God is not that we shall escape every danger, but when danger comes, God is in the midst of our trials.
In 1987, an 18-month old baby girl named Jessica fell into a narrow abandoned well near Midland, Texas. The world seemed to come to a stand still, holding its collective breath for three days as rescuers worked non-stop to free Jessica from her miry pit. The sight of Jessica in the arms of a rescuer reminded us that no matter how deep a hole in which we find ourselves, no matter how desperate our circumstances, and no matter how insignificant we may seem against the backdrop of time and eternity, the wings of the morning carry us into the loving arms of our heavenly Father. In the eyes of God, the value of each life is infinite, whether astronauts or submariners or a precious baby girl. For God so loved…
Thank you, O Lord, for your leading, holding hand amid the wings of the morning.
Personal note: I well remember August 2000. That was the birth of my granddaughter, Kat. As most of you know, she owns a lot of real estate in my heart. Thank you for allowing me to be away in Simi Valley this past weekend to participate in her birthday party. Thank you, especially, David Stump, for preaching in my absence. Saturday night, I was on the floor with Kat, who took great delight in using my large old body as a “jungle gym”. Anita asked Kat, “Why are you crawling all over Paw Paw?” Without hesitation, she answered, “Because I am the ‘grand’ daughter!” Indeed, she is.
The Veil and the Holiness of God
August 2, 2005
As I arrived at church Saturday morning, the parking lot was full. After about four passes, each an increasingly larger circle, I found a parking space several blocks away. As I walked toward the church, a large group of people in beautiful African attire were walking in this same direction. Was I dreaming? Then I remembered this was the day the Ethiopian Coptic Christians hold one of their two annual celebrations at our church.
What an amazing event. An estimated two hundred people packed the sanctuary and overflow room, and an additional one hundred people were in the social hall, standing room only. I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but paused long enough to observe. At one moment, I felt I was transported in time to the first century. Then, I thought, "This is what it will be like in heaven: people of every nation and race worshiping the Lamb in their own tongues and traditions."
Coptic worship dates back to Saint Mark, who established Christianity in Alexandria, Egypt, during the first century. Since Coptic Christians separated from the Western (Roman) Church early, the worship of the Coptics may be the purist link to the early church. Yet, many of their traditions are quite similar to the Roman, Greek and Russian Orthodox Christians.
This was not my first contact with Coptic worship. They stretch a veil or curtain across the chancel. No one misses the symbolism that God Himself is behind the veil. Only the priests may enter the veil. An overpowering sense of Holiness came over me. "Just think," I said to myself, "God is right here, in our chancel area." Then a light bulb went off in my feeble mind. Well, DUH! He's here every day, especially on Sundays!
Why is it that we do not have the same sense of the Presence and Holiness of God when we enter for worship? Would a veil help? I accepted a new challenge to help all of us, me most of all, to appreciate the awesome Holiness of God. Surely, the presence of the Lord is in this place.
As I arrived at church Saturday morning, the parking lot was full. After about four passes, each an increasingly larger circle, I found a parking space several blocks away. As I walked toward the church, a large group of people in beautiful African attire were walking in this same direction. Was I dreaming? Then I remembered this was the day the Ethiopian Coptic Christians hold one of their two annual celebrations at our church.
What an amazing event. An estimated two hundred people packed the sanctuary and overflow room, and an additional one hundred people were in the social hall, standing room only. I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but paused long enough to observe. At one moment, I felt I was transported in time to the first century. Then, I thought, "This is what it will be like in heaven: people of every nation and race worshiping the Lamb in their own tongues and traditions."
Coptic worship dates back to Saint Mark, who established Christianity in Alexandria, Egypt, during the first century. Since Coptic Christians separated from the Western (Roman) Church early, the worship of the Coptics may be the purist link to the early church. Yet, many of their traditions are quite similar to the Roman, Greek and Russian Orthodox Christians.
This was not my first contact with Coptic worship. They stretch a veil or curtain across the chancel. No one misses the symbolism that God Himself is behind the veil. Only the priests may enter the veil. An overpowering sense of Holiness came over me. "Just think," I said to myself, "God is right here, in our chancel area." Then a light bulb went off in my feeble mind. Well, DUH! He's here every day, especially on Sundays!
Why is it that we do not have the same sense of the Presence and Holiness of God when we enter for worship? Would a veil help? I accepted a new challenge to help all of us, me most of all, to appreciate the awesome Holiness of God. Surely, the presence of the Lord is in this place.
Climb Up Higher
July 18, 2005
The story of Jacob’s ladder provides an excellent setting to explore how God wants us to “climb up higher” in our spiritual lives.
Higher Dreams – Dreams played an important role in the Bible. Many times, God used dreams to show visions of where people were to go. A sad reality is that, as we get older, we forget how to dream, and become increasingly cynical. The Bible speaks of a time when “your OLD MEN will dream (new) dreams”. That’s quite a feat: to have OLD men dreaming new dreams. I am 57 years old, and I am still dreaming new dreams of what God can do. I find far too many of my university students, many half my age, who have already given up on their dreams. Jacob’s renewed dream was a turning point in his life.
Questions: Are you a dreamer or a cynic? Do you expect great things from God and attempt great things for God? Or do you say, “Ain’t no use trying. Nothing ever turns out right no-how.” Climb up higher.
Higher Commitment – Up until the “ladder dream”, Jacob was immature, “playing games” with is brother, Esau, and his parents, Isaac and Rebecca. Now, because of his foolishness, Jacob was literally running for his life. (It’s difficult to see the goal when you are running in survival mode.) After this encounter with God, Jacob “grew up” and accepted responsibility for his own spiritual life. He quit blaming others, and making excuses. He set about to mend broken relationships, make wrongs right, and (most importantly) complete God’s will for his life. In short, he took responsibility for his life, his happiness, and his spiritual growth.
Questions: Can God depend on you, or are you AWOL? When Christian duty calls, can you be found faithfully at your post of duty? Or, are you missing in action? (Charles Wesley said it well, “A charge to keep I have…”) Are you looking to others for your own happiness, or blaming others for your unhappiness? Climb up higher.
Higher Awareness – When Jacob awoke from his dream, God reminded Jacob of His purpose for Jacob’s life. Jacob erected an altar there, and named the place Beth-El (House of God). The saddest part of the whole story is when Jacob lamented, “Surely God was in this pace, and I DID NOT KNOW IT”. We need a higher awareness that we walk with God, for He is (as Jim Thompson sang so beautifully yesterday) before us, behind us, beneath us, and above us at all times.
Questions: Have you seen God today? Is he real and personal in your life? If not, why not? Are you aware that God is IN YOUR PLACE? If not, climb up higher.
The story of Jacob’s ladder provides an excellent setting to explore how God wants us to “climb up higher” in our spiritual lives.
Higher Dreams – Dreams played an important role in the Bible. Many times, God used dreams to show visions of where people were to go. A sad reality is that, as we get older, we forget how to dream, and become increasingly cynical. The Bible speaks of a time when “your OLD MEN will dream (new) dreams”. That’s quite a feat: to have OLD men dreaming new dreams. I am 57 years old, and I am still dreaming new dreams of what God can do. I find far too many of my university students, many half my age, who have already given up on their dreams. Jacob’s renewed dream was a turning point in his life.
Questions: Are you a dreamer or a cynic? Do you expect great things from God and attempt great things for God? Or do you say, “Ain’t no use trying. Nothing ever turns out right no-how.” Climb up higher.
Higher Commitment – Up until the “ladder dream”, Jacob was immature, “playing games” with is brother, Esau, and his parents, Isaac and Rebecca. Now, because of his foolishness, Jacob was literally running for his life. (It’s difficult to see the goal when you are running in survival mode.) After this encounter with God, Jacob “grew up” and accepted responsibility for his own spiritual life. He quit blaming others, and making excuses. He set about to mend broken relationships, make wrongs right, and (most importantly) complete God’s will for his life. In short, he took responsibility for his life, his happiness, and his spiritual growth.
Questions: Can God depend on you, or are you AWOL? When Christian duty calls, can you be found faithfully at your post of duty? Or, are you missing in action? (Charles Wesley said it well, “A charge to keep I have…”) Are you looking to others for your own happiness, or blaming others for your unhappiness? Climb up higher.
Higher Awareness – When Jacob awoke from his dream, God reminded Jacob of His purpose for Jacob’s life. Jacob erected an altar there, and named the place Beth-El (House of God). The saddest part of the whole story is when Jacob lamented, “Surely God was in this pace, and I DID NOT KNOW IT”. We need a higher awareness that we walk with God, for He is (as Jim Thompson sang so beautifully yesterday) before us, behind us, beneath us, and above us at all times.
Questions: Have you seen God today? Is he real and personal in your life? If not, why not? Are you aware that God is IN YOUR PLACE? If not, climb up higher.
Religious Fundamentalism and “Home-made Sin”
July 11, 2005
Religious fundamentalists have always worried me. They are people who feel they know the mind of God, and feel they are doing God a favor when they kill, maim, or, (just as badly,) destroy the character of “God’s enemies”. (We may fight wars with bullets or words! I find words may be equally, if not more devastating than bullets. That is why speaking falsely breaks one of the Ten Commandments, and we are warned we must give an account of every idle word on the Day of Judgment.)
No religious group is immune from its own form of zealots, including Christianity, and including Protestants. The history of the Christian church has its own stories of shame, including the Roman’s church’s sacking of the Eastern church’s headquarters in Constantinople while on their way to rescue Jerusalem during the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, and the centuries-long killings of Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland.
Last week in London, another group, most likely in the name of religious zealotry, raised (correction, lowered) the bar by killing more than fifty innocent human beings in the normal pursuit of their daily lives. From this, I suppose we are intended to believe God, (or Allah, or the Divine) is well pleased.
A British commentator illustrated a sad irony when he said the Brits were better able to deal with these attacks than most because of their experiences with the Irish Republican Army (IRA). But he added, “At least the IRA would give us 30 minutes notice before blowing up a public theater.”
Anita poke words of wisdom when she said, “Don’t these terrorists know that all they are doing is bringing the Irish Catholics and Protestants together?” If anything good may possibly come from this tragedy, it is that we finally recognize who is the true enemy. And by that I do not mean the enemy is Islam, because I must believe true Muslims are as horrified as we are at such vile acts. The enemy is hate; hatred cloaked in religion.
My father had a saying; “That’s as ugly as home-made sin.” I often wondered what he meant by that. After last Thursday’s attacks, I think I recognize it a bit better.
Religious fundamentalists have always worried me. They are people who feel they know the mind of God, and feel they are doing God a favor when they kill, maim, or, (just as badly,) destroy the character of “God’s enemies”. (We may fight wars with bullets or words! I find words may be equally, if not more devastating than bullets. That is why speaking falsely breaks one of the Ten Commandments, and we are warned we must give an account of every idle word on the Day of Judgment.)
No religious group is immune from its own form of zealots, including Christianity, and including Protestants. The history of the Christian church has its own stories of shame, including the Roman’s church’s sacking of the Eastern church’s headquarters in Constantinople while on their way to rescue Jerusalem during the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, and the centuries-long killings of Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland.
Last week in London, another group, most likely in the name of religious zealotry, raised (correction, lowered) the bar by killing more than fifty innocent human beings in the normal pursuit of their daily lives. From this, I suppose we are intended to believe God, (or Allah, or the Divine) is well pleased.
A British commentator illustrated a sad irony when he said the Brits were better able to deal with these attacks than most because of their experiences with the Irish Republican Army (IRA). But he added, “At least the IRA would give us 30 minutes notice before blowing up a public theater.”
Anita poke words of wisdom when she said, “Don’t these terrorists know that all they are doing is bringing the Irish Catholics and Protestants together?” If anything good may possibly come from this tragedy, it is that we finally recognize who is the true enemy. And by that I do not mean the enemy is Islam, because I must believe true Muslims are as horrified as we are at such vile acts. The enemy is hate; hatred cloaked in religion.
My father had a saying; “That’s as ugly as home-made sin.” I often wondered what he meant by that. After last Thursday’s attacks, I think I recognize it a bit better.
Christo-phobia, Our Nation’s Spiritual Schizophrenia
July 4, 2005
“There is a newly diagnosed disease spreading throughout America. I call it “Christo-phobia”. It is a form of schizophrenia, a disease the dictionary defines as “withdrawal from reality, illogical patterns of thinking, delusions, and hallucinations”. This national tragedy results from the growing desire, indeed the need, by many to deny our nation’s spiritual roots. The disease is spreading to our legislatures and courts, where ruling after ruling and law after law attempt to prove we are NOT a Christian nation. We cannot display the Ten Commandments in government buildings, we cannot place the cross on public grounds, we cannot pray in our schools, and we cannot speak the name of Jesus Christ in public forums, lest we offend someone.
Please understand, I affirm the freedom OF religion, the right of people in all faiths to worship in America as they choose. I even affirm the freedom FROM religion for those who elect no religion at all. I would never want to offend anyone who does not share our Judeo-Christian heritage. At the same time, I would never expect anyone to deny me the Judeo-Christian heritage upon which this nation was founded. I do not see, nor do I expect, to find Saudi Arabia apologizing for being Islamic; Israel apologizing for being Jewish; or Italy apologizing for being predominately Catholic. Yet the United States seems to have a huge spiritual identity crisis. We are spiritually schizophrenic, withdrawing from the reality of who we are.
My parents taught me “Never forget where you came from!” I know a few folks who left Yazoo City, took on the “airs” and dialect of New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles. They live in fear someone will learn that they came from humble beginnings. Heck, I am just a Yokel from Yazoo, saved by the grace of Jesus Christ. I am proud of who I am and where I came from, both geographically and spiritually. Too bad our nation seems to be forgetting who we are and where we came from.
In our attempt to become “broad minded,” I fear we have become somewhat “flat headed”. We redact (re-write) our heritage, saying the founding fathers were “just Deists” and, therefore, all this “Christian stuff” tied up in our history is misguided. How foolish! The Spanish and Italian explorers came to this continent to bring Christianity as much as to find new worlds. The Pilgrims and early settlers came to these shores to escape religious persecution and find the freedom to worship as one chooses.
General Michael Dickson, my great-great-great-great grandfather, was one of the fifty-five delegates and alternates who assembled at Carpenter’s Hall in Philadelphia on September 5, 1774 at the request of Benjamin Franklin for the Continental Congress; the Colonies’ first attempt to unite for political and religious freedom. I fear Grandpa Dickson, along with fellow delegates George Washington, John and Samuel Adams, Patrick Henry, and John Jay would roll over in their graves if they know how far we have deviated from what, at great personal peril, they set in motion.
Finally, I believe church and state should maintain a respectable distance form each other. However, no where do I see that church and PATRIOTISM should remain separate. It’s time we Christians awake from our sleep, stand up, affirm and advance the great heritage that our founding fathers passed to us! “I’m proud to be a Christian American!”
“There is a newly diagnosed disease spreading throughout America. I call it “Christo-phobia”. It is a form of schizophrenia, a disease the dictionary defines as “withdrawal from reality, illogical patterns of thinking, delusions, and hallucinations”. This national tragedy results from the growing desire, indeed the need, by many to deny our nation’s spiritual roots. The disease is spreading to our legislatures and courts, where ruling after ruling and law after law attempt to prove we are NOT a Christian nation. We cannot display the Ten Commandments in government buildings, we cannot place the cross on public grounds, we cannot pray in our schools, and we cannot speak the name of Jesus Christ in public forums, lest we offend someone.
Please understand, I affirm the freedom OF religion, the right of people in all faiths to worship in America as they choose. I even affirm the freedom FROM religion for those who elect no religion at all. I would never want to offend anyone who does not share our Judeo-Christian heritage. At the same time, I would never expect anyone to deny me the Judeo-Christian heritage upon which this nation was founded. I do not see, nor do I expect, to find Saudi Arabia apologizing for being Islamic; Israel apologizing for being Jewish; or Italy apologizing for being predominately Catholic. Yet the United States seems to have a huge spiritual identity crisis. We are spiritually schizophrenic, withdrawing from the reality of who we are.
My parents taught me “Never forget where you came from!” I know a few folks who left Yazoo City, took on the “airs” and dialect of New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles. They live in fear someone will learn that they came from humble beginnings. Heck, I am just a Yokel from Yazoo, saved by the grace of Jesus Christ. I am proud of who I am and where I came from, both geographically and spiritually. Too bad our nation seems to be forgetting who we are and where we came from.
In our attempt to become “broad minded,” I fear we have become somewhat “flat headed”. We redact (re-write) our heritage, saying the founding fathers were “just Deists” and, therefore, all this “Christian stuff” tied up in our history is misguided. How foolish! The Spanish and Italian explorers came to this continent to bring Christianity as much as to find new worlds. The Pilgrims and early settlers came to these shores to escape religious persecution and find the freedom to worship as one chooses.
General Michael Dickson, my great-great-great-great grandfather, was one of the fifty-five delegates and alternates who assembled at Carpenter’s Hall in Philadelphia on September 5, 1774 at the request of Benjamin Franklin for the Continental Congress; the Colonies’ first attempt to unite for political and religious freedom. I fear Grandpa Dickson, along with fellow delegates George Washington, John and Samuel Adams, Patrick Henry, and John Jay would roll over in their graves if they know how far we have deviated from what, at great personal peril, they set in motion.
Finally, I believe church and state should maintain a respectable distance form each other. However, no where do I see that church and PATRIOTISM should remain separate. It’s time we Christians awake from our sleep, stand up, affirm and advance the great heritage that our founding fathers passed to us! “I’m proud to be a Christian American!”
Conferencing, Circuit Riding, and Our ‘Sabbatical’ (Seventh) Year
June 27, 2005
John Wesley set in motion the Methodist Conferencing tradition almost 300 years ago. He called his ministers together once a year for fellowship, worship, inspiration and accountability! This Methodist “Method” still works. The California-Pacific Annual Conference met in Redlands, CA last week. To be candid, I complained to myself about the traffic jams getting from San Diego to Redlands, especially the I-215 “stack” at Riverside. Because of an accident, I traveled just four miles in one hour on one stretch of modern highway. Then I remembered reading Tobias Gibson rode horseback from Natchez, Mississippi to South Carolina for Annual Conference in 1800. YIKES! Methodist Circuit Riders for three centuries have traveled to annual conferences to learn where they would be appointed for the next year, many times not knowing until the end of the conference where the Bishop would station them.
This year’s conference marked a milestone for me. With my appointment for 2005-2006, I begin my seventh year as pastor of Christ United Methodist Church. This is the longest pastorate in my career, exceeding the six years I served the Claremont Harbor/Pearlington Charge on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. It was there I had the great honor to start the Diamondhead UMC. We began with eight members meeting in an office building at 8:00 AM each Sunday. Today, Diamondhead UMC has a beautiful new building and averages 150-200 in worship. Back then, I preached three times at three different churches each Sunday…a modern form of Methodist Circuit Riding.
There are two basic forms of church governance. One is the “free church” model, where autonomy and independence are emphasized. The other is the “Episcopal” model, where disciples are accountable to each other, usually within the bishop-elder-deacon chain of command. I have served under both systems. Both forms have strengths and weaknesses. It is important to me that I should be held accountable to my fellow Christians, my Superintendent (Presiding Elder), my Bishop, and ultimately, my God.
Thank God for the Church, Christ’s Bride. Thank God that through the church, we are accountable to each other.
Charles Wesley, brother of John Wesley, wrote the great old Methodist hymn, “Love divine, all loves excelling”. These words echoed through my mind many times last week as I traveled again as a circuit rider to annual conference and participated in great tradition of holy conferencing.
“Finish, then, Thy new creation;
Pure and spotless let us be.
Let us see Thy great salvation
Perfectly restored in Thee;
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heaven we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before
Thee,Lost in wonder, love, and praise”
You are a wonderful congregation, and Anita and I love you very much for allowing us to serve along side you. May our sabbatical year as pastor and parish find us “lost in HIS wonder, love and grace!”
John Wesley set in motion the Methodist Conferencing tradition almost 300 years ago. He called his ministers together once a year for fellowship, worship, inspiration and accountability! This Methodist “Method” still works. The California-Pacific Annual Conference met in Redlands, CA last week. To be candid, I complained to myself about the traffic jams getting from San Diego to Redlands, especially the I-215 “stack” at Riverside. Because of an accident, I traveled just four miles in one hour on one stretch of modern highway. Then I remembered reading Tobias Gibson rode horseback from Natchez, Mississippi to South Carolina for Annual Conference in 1800. YIKES! Methodist Circuit Riders for three centuries have traveled to annual conferences to learn where they would be appointed for the next year, many times not knowing until the end of the conference where the Bishop would station them.
This year’s conference marked a milestone for me. With my appointment for 2005-2006, I begin my seventh year as pastor of Christ United Methodist Church. This is the longest pastorate in my career, exceeding the six years I served the Claremont Harbor/Pearlington Charge on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. It was there I had the great honor to start the Diamondhead UMC. We began with eight members meeting in an office building at 8:00 AM each Sunday. Today, Diamondhead UMC has a beautiful new building and averages 150-200 in worship. Back then, I preached three times at three different churches each Sunday…a modern form of Methodist Circuit Riding.
There are two basic forms of church governance. One is the “free church” model, where autonomy and independence are emphasized. The other is the “Episcopal” model, where disciples are accountable to each other, usually within the bishop-elder-deacon chain of command. I have served under both systems. Both forms have strengths and weaknesses. It is important to me that I should be held accountable to my fellow Christians, my Superintendent (Presiding Elder), my Bishop, and ultimately, my God.
Thank God for the Church, Christ’s Bride. Thank God that through the church, we are accountable to each other.
Charles Wesley, brother of John Wesley, wrote the great old Methodist hymn, “Love divine, all loves excelling”. These words echoed through my mind many times last week as I traveled again as a circuit rider to annual conference and participated in great tradition of holy conferencing.
“Finish, then, Thy new creation;
Pure and spotless let us be.
Let us see Thy great salvation
Perfectly restored in Thee;
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heaven we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before
Thee,Lost in wonder, love, and praise”
You are a wonderful congregation, and Anita and I love you very much for allowing us to serve along side you. May our sabbatical year as pastor and parish find us “lost in HIS wonder, love and grace!”
Shake, Rattle and Roll
June 20, 2005
The Shaking: This was a memorable week. It began last Sunday with the earthquake everyone felt just before we arrived at church. Anita and I did not feel it, because we were in our car on the way to church. I now know tires and car motion mask the shaking, at least for moderate quakes. Before the week was over, five earthquakes rocked our world. I remembered what Vince Howley, my friend and President of U-Save Auto Rental in Baltimore said in 1998 when I told him I was moving to California; "Just remember, Bill, when the big one comes, they will be selling oceanfront property in Las Vegas." Actually, we have dozens of earthquakes every day. Thank goodness we only feel a few each year. Five in a week is a bit much, even for California.
The Rattling: Whereas the quakes have become almost routine, even for a transplanted Mississippian, there was an event this week that rattled my cage. Tuesday night I was in Irvine. On my way back to San Diego, the radio announcer broke in over my "oldies music". "The Weather Bureau has issued a Tsunami warning for San Diego County." Even for an old country boy, that is something you don't hear every day! Of course, I was driving on I-5, just past San Juan Capistrano. For the next thirty minutes, I would be hugging the fabulous Pacific coastline until I passed Oceanside. So what do you do when you are in your car on an interstate highway, and the weather bureau (yes, I said weather bureau...guess they are in charge of tsunamis) issues a tsunami warning? Reminded me of the bomb shelter at Yazoo City High School in the 1960s. It was an 18 x 15 foot tin building that was supposed to save all 600 students when Captain Boris of the KGB dropped the big bomb on Yazoo City. Otherwise, we were told to drop under our desks when we saw the big flash. (T-Baby dropped under his desk every time a passing vehicle backfired.) I will not soon forget the surreal world that tsunami warning created until the "all clear" came just as I made it past Oceanside where I-5 turns safely away from the Pacific coastline.
The Rolling: Anita flew to Las Vegas Tuesday night. After my all morning meeting Wednesday in Spring Valley, I drove toward Vegas to join her for a couple days of vacation. T.J. Kramer, Greg's brother, invited me to stop at his home in Silver Lakes. This was a good half way place to break up the five hour drive. I exited I-15 (and civilization) at Victorville, taking the famous Route 66 toward Barstow. The landscape would make a great backdrop for a post nuclear movie. Like the Mississippi Delta, I recognized a subtle beauty. Just when I began to fear I would die in the desert, like a mirage, Silver Lakes appeared out of nowhere. It is a beautiful, modern community, strangely out of place in that otherwise barren setting. After the refreshing visit at T.J.'s, I was better prepared for the remainder of my trip through the Mojave Desert, closeby Death Valley, and the mountain passes. Never have I seen so many cars racing so fast to "Lost Wages" Nevada.
All these experiences reminded me of God's immense power to create mountains, oceans, and deserts. Against this enormous expanse, I meditated upon His amazing Fatherly grace to note the falling of a sparrow, and numbering the hairs upon my balding head (the text for Father's Day). All these different strands reminded me that I am smaller than a gnat in the big scheme of things, totally powerless in the presence of earthquakes and tsunamis. Yet these stands reminded me I am the son of a Heavenly father who said, "Fear not..."
The Shaking: This was a memorable week. It began last Sunday with the earthquake everyone felt just before we arrived at church. Anita and I did not feel it, because we were in our car on the way to church. I now know tires and car motion mask the shaking, at least for moderate quakes. Before the week was over, five earthquakes rocked our world. I remembered what Vince Howley, my friend and President of U-Save Auto Rental in Baltimore said in 1998 when I told him I was moving to California; "Just remember, Bill, when the big one comes, they will be selling oceanfront property in Las Vegas." Actually, we have dozens of earthquakes every day. Thank goodness we only feel a few each year. Five in a week is a bit much, even for California.
The Rattling: Whereas the quakes have become almost routine, even for a transplanted Mississippian, there was an event this week that rattled my cage. Tuesday night I was in Irvine. On my way back to San Diego, the radio announcer broke in over my "oldies music". "The Weather Bureau has issued a Tsunami warning for San Diego County." Even for an old country boy, that is something you don't hear every day! Of course, I was driving on I-5, just past San Juan Capistrano. For the next thirty minutes, I would be hugging the fabulous Pacific coastline until I passed Oceanside. So what do you do when you are in your car on an interstate highway, and the weather bureau (yes, I said weather bureau...guess they are in charge of tsunamis) issues a tsunami warning? Reminded me of the bomb shelter at Yazoo City High School in the 1960s. It was an 18 x 15 foot tin building that was supposed to save all 600 students when Captain Boris of the KGB dropped the big bomb on Yazoo City. Otherwise, we were told to drop under our desks when we saw the big flash. (T-Baby dropped under his desk every time a passing vehicle backfired.) I will not soon forget the surreal world that tsunami warning created until the "all clear" came just as I made it past Oceanside where I-5 turns safely away from the Pacific coastline.
The Rolling: Anita flew to Las Vegas Tuesday night. After my all morning meeting Wednesday in Spring Valley, I drove toward Vegas to join her for a couple days of vacation. T.J. Kramer, Greg's brother, invited me to stop at his home in Silver Lakes. This was a good half way place to break up the five hour drive. I exited I-15 (and civilization) at Victorville, taking the famous Route 66 toward Barstow. The landscape would make a great backdrop for a post nuclear movie. Like the Mississippi Delta, I recognized a subtle beauty. Just when I began to fear I would die in the desert, like a mirage, Silver Lakes appeared out of nowhere. It is a beautiful, modern community, strangely out of place in that otherwise barren setting. After the refreshing visit at T.J.'s, I was better prepared for the remainder of my trip through the Mojave Desert, closeby Death Valley, and the mountain passes. Never have I seen so many cars racing so fast to "Lost Wages" Nevada.
All these experiences reminded me of God's immense power to create mountains, oceans, and deserts. Against this enormous expanse, I meditated upon His amazing Fatherly grace to note the falling of a sparrow, and numbering the hairs upon my balding head (the text for Father's Day). All these different strands reminded me that I am smaller than a gnat in the big scheme of things, totally powerless in the presence of earthquakes and tsunamis. Yet these stands reminded me I am the son of a Heavenly father who said, "Fear not..."
Here We Raise Our Ebenezer
June 13, 2005
In the great old hymn, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” the second verse begins, “Here I raise mine Ebenezer”. The phrase is based upon 1 Samuel 7:12 in the Old Testament:
“Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying, "Thus far has the LORD helped us." Samuel set up the monument as a reminder to Israel of God’s help in her battles against tremendous obstacles.
God impressed upon me that our new church sign represents a “Modern Ebenezer”. The electronic sign will be a monument, reminding thousands who pass the intersection of 33rd Street and Meade Avenue of God’s love, grace, and providential care. The excitement over the sign became evident in yesterday’s Council meeting. Several people asked, “How may I help make it a reality?”
Our commitment is to pay for the sign outside our church budget through special gifts, donations and memorials. The total cost of the double sided electronic sign is $26,000. J. M. Stewart Sign Company has approved our five year lease (with a one dollar buyout). That means for approximately $100 per week, we can “Raise Our Ebenezer” sign, begin publishing God’s gospel to passersby, and let our community know about the many wonderful ministries conducted at Christ Church and Ministry Center.
To that end, we hereby establish our “Raise Our Ebenezer” campaign. We invite our members and friends of Christ Church to give:
· Pastor’s Circle ($100 per month pledge, or one time gift of $5,000)
· Ebenezer Circle ($50 per month pledge, or $10 per week, or one time gift of $2,500)
· Herald Circle ($25 per month pledge, or one time gift of $1,000)
· Evangel Circle ($10 per month pledge, or one time gift of $500)
All donations (regardless of size) will be inscribed for permanent display. To join the campaign, all you have to do is reply by email, phone me or the church, write or speak with Gretchen Mitchell (Ebenezer Project Chair), David Stump, Art Slatten, Sonya Gomez, Phyllis Evans, Charlene Savage or me. We will have commitment cards next Sunday. Checks should be made out to Christ United Methodist Church and marked Ebenezer Sign Project. We will list those who make commitments in our weekly E-Vangel Newsletter (unless you request to remain anonymous). I expect we will have folks from all over the USA (and perhaps the world) supporting this missionary project in San Diego.
Send me an email or call me, and I will send you the “Raise Our Ebenezer” packet with pledge card.
Finally, a personal note: This is one of the few times you will hear me appeal for funds via the E-Vangel Newsletter. I do so here without apology or reservation. This is an exciting project that will help transform the ministries at 33rd and Meade. Help us raise our Ebenezer message: “Christ, in the Heart of San Diego!”
In the great old hymn, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” the second verse begins, “Here I raise mine Ebenezer”. The phrase is based upon 1 Samuel 7:12 in the Old Testament:
“Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying, "Thus far has the LORD helped us." Samuel set up the monument as a reminder to Israel of God’s help in her battles against tremendous obstacles.
God impressed upon me that our new church sign represents a “Modern Ebenezer”. The electronic sign will be a monument, reminding thousands who pass the intersection of 33rd Street and Meade Avenue of God’s love, grace, and providential care. The excitement over the sign became evident in yesterday’s Council meeting. Several people asked, “How may I help make it a reality?”
Our commitment is to pay for the sign outside our church budget through special gifts, donations and memorials. The total cost of the double sided electronic sign is $26,000. J. M. Stewart Sign Company has approved our five year lease (with a one dollar buyout). That means for approximately $100 per week, we can “Raise Our Ebenezer” sign, begin publishing God’s gospel to passersby, and let our community know about the many wonderful ministries conducted at Christ Church and Ministry Center.
To that end, we hereby establish our “Raise Our Ebenezer” campaign. We invite our members and friends of Christ Church to give:
· Pastor’s Circle ($100 per month pledge, or one time gift of $5,000)
· Ebenezer Circle ($50 per month pledge, or $10 per week, or one time gift of $2,500)
· Herald Circle ($25 per month pledge, or one time gift of $1,000)
· Evangel Circle ($10 per month pledge, or one time gift of $500)
All donations (regardless of size) will be inscribed for permanent display. To join the campaign, all you have to do is reply by email, phone me or the church, write or speak with Gretchen Mitchell (Ebenezer Project Chair), David Stump, Art Slatten, Sonya Gomez, Phyllis Evans, Charlene Savage or me. We will have commitment cards next Sunday. Checks should be made out to Christ United Methodist Church and marked Ebenezer Sign Project. We will list those who make commitments in our weekly E-Vangel Newsletter (unless you request to remain anonymous). I expect we will have folks from all over the USA (and perhaps the world) supporting this missionary project in San Diego.
Send me an email or call me, and I will send you the “Raise Our Ebenezer” packet with pledge card.
Finally, a personal note: This is one of the few times you will hear me appeal for funds via the E-Vangel Newsletter. I do so here without apology or reservation. This is an exciting project that will help transform the ministries at 33rd and Meade. Help us raise our Ebenezer message: “Christ, in the Heart of San Diego!”
Christ UMC Ministry Center
May 23, 2005
The following article came to me from The Methodist Foundation last week. I find it to be an informative “wake up call” for urban churches. I also find it encouraging that we, at Christ UMC, have already begun to address the issues. Please read, with attention to the phrases I underlined.
Five Issues Congregations Must Face in the Next 10 Years
By Shane Stanford
The following are five issues identified as “rising Stewardship issues” for congregations over the next 10 years.
1. The “Graying of the Church”: As the average age of congregations continues to rise, the financial implications for the local church are significant. Increased focus must be placed on educating younger generations in terms of tithing and sacrificial giving. Other implications include uncertain futures for corporate pensions, Social Security issues and personal financial behavior.
2. Personal Financial Dysfunction: The consumer and long term debt of Americans is rising, inhibiting faithful financial participation in the local church.
3. Technology Investment: As the culture changes, so do methodologies… As churches move further into the 21st century, an increase in technology will become important for effectively communicating the message and connecting the faithful. This phenomenon will become an issue for smaller churches as well as larger ones.
4. Capital Investment for Facility Improvements and Maintenance: In part referring to numbers 1 & 2, facility concerns will increase in the next 10 years as churches (especially those in transition) face increased capital costs for improvements and maintenance. More creative use of facilities, including out/in sourcing of space will become more commonplace.
5. The Other Stewardship Resource Development Question: Time and spiritual gifts join money as the other crucial elements of stewardship and are also valuable resources in today’s world. Churches must focus specifically on the calling forth, training and sending of volunteers in systemic ways to maximize the increasingly valuable commodity of a person’s time.
We have already begun to address items #1, #3 and #4. The new model for us is Christ UMC "Ministry Center", where four congregations, a half dozen weekday ministries for youth, women, refugees, and the economically oppressed, plus twelve step organizations who help people win vistories over addictive behavior, unite to do far more together than any of us can do alone...to the honor and glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Anita and I love and appreciate you all for your faithfulness and hard work in the face of incredible challenges and opportunities.
The following article came to me from The Methodist Foundation last week. I find it to be an informative “wake up call” for urban churches. I also find it encouraging that we, at Christ UMC, have already begun to address the issues. Please read, with attention to the phrases I underlined.
Five Issues Congregations Must Face in the Next 10 Years
By Shane Stanford
The following are five issues identified as “rising Stewardship issues” for congregations over the next 10 years.
1. The “Graying of the Church”: As the average age of congregations continues to rise, the financial implications for the local church are significant. Increased focus must be placed on educating younger generations in terms of tithing and sacrificial giving. Other implications include uncertain futures for corporate pensions, Social Security issues and personal financial behavior.
2. Personal Financial Dysfunction: The consumer and long term debt of Americans is rising, inhibiting faithful financial participation in the local church.
3. Technology Investment: As the culture changes, so do methodologies… As churches move further into the 21st century, an increase in technology will become important for effectively communicating the message and connecting the faithful. This phenomenon will become an issue for smaller churches as well as larger ones.
4. Capital Investment for Facility Improvements and Maintenance: In part referring to numbers 1 & 2, facility concerns will increase in the next 10 years as churches (especially those in transition) face increased capital costs for improvements and maintenance. More creative use of facilities, including out/in sourcing of space will become more commonplace.
5. The Other Stewardship Resource Development Question: Time and spiritual gifts join money as the other crucial elements of stewardship and are also valuable resources in today’s world. Churches must focus specifically on the calling forth, training and sending of volunteers in systemic ways to maximize the increasingly valuable commodity of a person’s time.
We have already begun to address items #1, #3 and #4. The new model for us is Christ UMC "Ministry Center", where four congregations, a half dozen weekday ministries for youth, women, refugees, and the economically oppressed, plus twelve step organizations who help people win vistories over addictive behavior, unite to do far more together than any of us can do alone...to the honor and glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Anita and I love and appreciate you all for your faithfulness and hard work in the face of incredible challenges and opportunities.
No Ordinary Time
May 16, 2005
The Pentecost celebration was everything we hoped it would be. It was wonderful to see the sanctuary full. Thanks goes to all four congregations for the beautiful and spirit filled music, to Pastor Donald Owens for his inspiring sermon, and to Anita for preparing a feast for all to enjoy following our worship.
Now comes one of two times on the Christian calendar referred to as Ordinary time, the period between Pentecost and Christ the King Sunday, near Thanksgiving. (The other Ordinary time is after Epiphany.) Some refer to this long season, especially the last 13 weeks, as Kingdomtide.
From the pews, Ordinary time appears to be a half year devoid of the festivals and holy days we celebrate at Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter and Pentecost.
It is all too easy to shift our spiritual gears into neutral, and rationalize that we need a rest from the intense pace of the past six months. After all, it’s O-R-D-I-N-A-R-Y time, right? The name comes from the word “ordinal” (or numbered) Sundays, and should not imply routine or mundane worship and ministry.
I propose we transform this year’s Ordinary time into “extraordinary time”, empowered by the same Holy Spirit who fell upon the disciples at Pentecost. With the refreshing and renewing of the Spirit, let’s make the days ahead a time filled with acts of Kingdom ministry and kindness.
This coming Sunday is Trinity Sunday, the only such day in which we celebrate a theological idea (the Trinity) rather than an event. Holy, Holy, Holy!
The Pentecost celebration was everything we hoped it would be. It was wonderful to see the sanctuary full. Thanks goes to all four congregations for the beautiful and spirit filled music, to Pastor Donald Owens for his inspiring sermon, and to Anita for preparing a feast for all to enjoy following our worship.
Now comes one of two times on the Christian calendar referred to as Ordinary time, the period between Pentecost and Christ the King Sunday, near Thanksgiving. (The other Ordinary time is after Epiphany.) Some refer to this long season, especially the last 13 weeks, as Kingdomtide.
From the pews, Ordinary time appears to be a half year devoid of the festivals and holy days we celebrate at Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter and Pentecost.
It is all too easy to shift our spiritual gears into neutral, and rationalize that we need a rest from the intense pace of the past six months. After all, it’s O-R-D-I-N-A-R-Y time, right? The name comes from the word “ordinal” (or numbered) Sundays, and should not imply routine or mundane worship and ministry.
I propose we transform this year’s Ordinary time into “extraordinary time”, empowered by the same Holy Spirit who fell upon the disciples at Pentecost. With the refreshing and renewing of the Spirit, let’s make the days ahead a time filled with acts of Kingdom ministry and kindness.
This coming Sunday is Trinity Sunday, the only such day in which we celebrate a theological idea (the Trinity) rather than an event. Holy, Holy, Holy!
Pentecost and Oneness
May 9, 2005
On the day of Pentecost, (Acts 2) God gave the church the Gift of the Holy Spirit. The Bible records that disciples and seekers were all in ONE place, at ONE time, in ONE accord, sharing their meager possessions as if they were ONE family. (There is a four-point sermon!) In that environment, God’s Spirit fell upon them as tongues of fire (symbolized in our United Methodist logo), transcending ethnic, religious, language, and cultural barriers. Upon receiving the Gift of the Holy Spirit, the disciples miraculously began to speak in different languages so that all the foreigners gathered in Jerusalem were able to hear the Gospel in their native language. Many mark the day of Pentecost as the birth of the church.
This Sunday, we have the opportunity to experience Pentecost as few have done since the original day 2000 years ago. Believers from different cultures, languages and denominations will gather at Christ Church to celebrate the Gift of the Holy Spirit. Members of our Anglo and Hispanic United Methodist congregations will join with the members of the predominately Hispanic Iglesia Vida Nueva Evangelical Free and predominantly African-American Exodus Missionary (Southern) Baptist congregations for joint worship.
Yesterday, my text was Jesus' prayer in John 17. In verse 11, Jesus prayed that the disciples would be "one" as Jesus and the Father were "one". It did not take long after Pentecost for the disciples to lose the sense of oneness. They splintered into sectarian groups. Today, we have hundreds of denominations, making the goal of Christian oneness seem impossible.
That realization saddens me; but God helped me see a fundamental truth: Oneness is NOT sameness! We don't all have to look alike, act alike, and worship exactly the same. We don't have to get everyone to sign articles of faith in a vain attempt to keep everyone "orthodox". Each expression of Christianity is itself a gift, bringing to the church universal some aspect of grace.
Jesus continues to be in the barrier-busting business. In him, there is nether male nor female, Jew nor Greek, bond nor slave. Join us Sunday, and experince to joy as we tear down the walls that divide us. For One Day, for God's Sake, let us be ONE!
On the day of Pentecost, (Acts 2) God gave the church the Gift of the Holy Spirit. The Bible records that disciples and seekers were all in ONE place, at ONE time, in ONE accord, sharing their meager possessions as if they were ONE family. (There is a four-point sermon!) In that environment, God’s Spirit fell upon them as tongues of fire (symbolized in our United Methodist logo), transcending ethnic, religious, language, and cultural barriers. Upon receiving the Gift of the Holy Spirit, the disciples miraculously began to speak in different languages so that all the foreigners gathered in Jerusalem were able to hear the Gospel in their native language. Many mark the day of Pentecost as the birth of the church.
This Sunday, we have the opportunity to experience Pentecost as few have done since the original day 2000 years ago. Believers from different cultures, languages and denominations will gather at Christ Church to celebrate the Gift of the Holy Spirit. Members of our Anglo and Hispanic United Methodist congregations will join with the members of the predominately Hispanic Iglesia Vida Nueva Evangelical Free and predominantly African-American Exodus Missionary (Southern) Baptist congregations for joint worship.
Yesterday, my text was Jesus' prayer in John 17. In verse 11, Jesus prayed that the disciples would be "one" as Jesus and the Father were "one". It did not take long after Pentecost for the disciples to lose the sense of oneness. They splintered into sectarian groups. Today, we have hundreds of denominations, making the goal of Christian oneness seem impossible.
That realization saddens me; but God helped me see a fundamental truth: Oneness is NOT sameness! We don't all have to look alike, act alike, and worship exactly the same. We don't have to get everyone to sign articles of faith in a vain attempt to keep everyone "orthodox". Each expression of Christianity is itself a gift, bringing to the church universal some aspect of grace.
Jesus continues to be in the barrier-busting business. In him, there is nether male nor female, Jew nor Greek, bond nor slave. Join us Sunday, and experince to joy as we tear down the walls that divide us. For One Day, for God's Sake, let us be ONE!
Mothers, peace in our hearts, the key to our souls…
May 2, 2005
Washington Irving once wrote: “A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.”
An old Jewish proverb says, “God could not be everywhere, so He invented mothers.” Actually, our theology holds that God can be and is everywhere, but I still like the proverb.
This Sunday is Mother’s Day. The phone company tells us it is their busiest day of the year. I hope not, but suspect that is true because most folks do not take advantage of calling their mothers while they have the opportunity. So they try to get it all done on one day. My mother probably wishes I would not call so much. Just like Garrison Keillor, I place a weekly phone call for “the news from Lake Wobegon” (actually, Yazoo City). I’m sure some of those calls come at less than convenient times, like when mother is trying to get food on the table. (I still have trouble calculating the two hour time difference between Mississippi and California.) However, I realize how fortunate I am to have the wonderful mother God gave me, and that I can still tell her, “I love you.” So I make every Saturday evening a little mother’s day all its own. It does my heart and soul good, just in time for Sunday worship.
Oscar Wilde wrote: “All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.” And the continuing tragedy is that we do not tell our mothers how much we love and appreciate them while we have the chance!
Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “[mothers] carry the key of our souls in their bosoms.” Whether living or in their eternal reward, we will pause this Sunday to remember our mothers, upon whose bosom we first learned God-like love.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mother! I love you.
Washington Irving once wrote: “A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.”
An old Jewish proverb says, “God could not be everywhere, so He invented mothers.” Actually, our theology holds that God can be and is everywhere, but I still like the proverb.
This Sunday is Mother’s Day. The phone company tells us it is their busiest day of the year. I hope not, but suspect that is true because most folks do not take advantage of calling their mothers while they have the opportunity. So they try to get it all done on one day. My mother probably wishes I would not call so much. Just like Garrison Keillor, I place a weekly phone call for “the news from Lake Wobegon” (actually, Yazoo City). I’m sure some of those calls come at less than convenient times, like when mother is trying to get food on the table. (I still have trouble calculating the two hour time difference between Mississippi and California.) However, I realize how fortunate I am to have the wonderful mother God gave me, and that I can still tell her, “I love you.” So I make every Saturday evening a little mother’s day all its own. It does my heart and soul good, just in time for Sunday worship.
Oscar Wilde wrote: “All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.” And the continuing tragedy is that we do not tell our mothers how much we love and appreciate them while we have the chance!
Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “[mothers] carry the key of our souls in their bosoms.” Whether living or in their eternal reward, we will pause this Sunday to remember our mothers, upon whose bosom we first learned God-like love.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mother! I love you.
Grandparents, grandchildren
April 18, 2005
My brother Norman sent me the picture above. It’s a bit grainy, but wow, does it bring back memories. The four-room house in the background was my home from my birth to 1959 on Graball Hill in Yazoo City. (We moved in soon after Jed, Granny, Jethro and Ellie May moved out!) Don’t laugh. We had running water, because I ran it from the cistern (off the photo to the left of the lean-to garage) to the house. You can tell by the ’57 Chevy when this photo was taken.
I can easily pick out most of the people in this photo, sitting in the summer shade of our old front yard. My sister Marietta is in front. The three folks sitting in chairs are: (left to right) Norman, my father (leaning to his right) and my grandfather, Daddy Roberts.
Grandparents are a gift God gives to children. Mine were wonderful. Joan McIntosh said, “They say genes skip generations. Maybe that's why grandparents find their grandchildren so likeable.”
When Anita and I married in 1993, I got a second chance at being a grandfather; not an easy task for one who never had children of my own. I tell people I made up for lost time: getting married one year, performing my daughter’s wedding the next year, and becoming a grandfather the year after that!
Last week, Anita and I celebrated Deanna’s birthday in Simi Valley. We enthusiastically assumed our roles as Nanna and Paw Paw with Tak and Kat. Kat is learning her mother and father have real names. “What’s mother’s name?” we asked. “De-an-na Kaw-a-sa-ki”, Kat said, emphasizing each syllable. “What’s daddy’s name?” “Scot Ka-wa-sa-ki”. We then asked, “What’s Paw Paw’s name?” With a bit of prompting, Kat replied, “Wil-liam Jenk-ins Ka-wa-sa-ki.”
Mary H. Waldrip said, “Grandchildren are God's way of compensating us for growing old.” What a joy! I only hope I leave Tak and Kat with as many warm memories as Momma and Daddy Roberts left to me.
Sunday’s sermon reminded us of a loving heavenly and “grand” father, the Good Shepherd, who loves, protects, and cares for us. How wonderfully blessed we are!
My brother Norman sent me the picture above. It’s a bit grainy, but wow, does it bring back memories. The four-room house in the background was my home from my birth to 1959 on Graball Hill in Yazoo City. (We moved in soon after Jed, Granny, Jethro and Ellie May moved out!) Don’t laugh. We had running water, because I ran it from the cistern (off the photo to the left of the lean-to garage) to the house. You can tell by the ’57 Chevy when this photo was taken.
I can easily pick out most of the people in this photo, sitting in the summer shade of our old front yard. My sister Marietta is in front. The three folks sitting in chairs are: (left to right) Norman, my father (leaning to his right) and my grandfather, Daddy Roberts.
Grandparents are a gift God gives to children. Mine were wonderful. Joan McIntosh said, “They say genes skip generations. Maybe that's why grandparents find their grandchildren so likeable.”
When Anita and I married in 1993, I got a second chance at being a grandfather; not an easy task for one who never had children of my own. I tell people I made up for lost time: getting married one year, performing my daughter’s wedding the next year, and becoming a grandfather the year after that!
Last week, Anita and I celebrated Deanna’s birthday in Simi Valley. We enthusiastically assumed our roles as Nanna and Paw Paw with Tak and Kat. Kat is learning her mother and father have real names. “What’s mother’s name?” we asked. “De-an-na Kaw-a-sa-ki”, Kat said, emphasizing each syllable. “What’s daddy’s name?” “Scot Ka-wa-sa-ki”. We then asked, “What’s Paw Paw’s name?” With a bit of prompting, Kat replied, “Wil-liam Jenk-ins Ka-wa-sa-ki.”
Mary H. Waldrip said, “Grandchildren are God's way of compensating us for growing old.” What a joy! I only hope I leave Tak and Kat with as many warm memories as Momma and Daddy Roberts left to me.
Sunday’s sermon reminded us of a loving heavenly and “grand” father, the Good Shepherd, who loves, protects, and cares for us. How wonderfully blessed we are!
A Child’s View of the Resurrection
March 21, 2005
Art Linkletter (now 93 years old) appeared on Sunday’s Crystal Cathedral program. I rarely watch the program, but when I saw Mr. Linkletter’s face, I stopped channel surfing. In characteristic fashion, he told one of his “Kids Say the Darndest Things” stories. A Sunday School teacher asked a little girl, “What does Easter mean to Christians?” The girl replied, “Jesus died and they placed him in a cave. They rolled a big stone to seal the tomb. On Easter, Jesus came out of the tomb alive.” The teacher was impressed. “Then, what happened?” she asked. The little girl looked perplexed, and after a few moments of thinking said, “He looked down, saw his shadow, and went back in for six more weeks.”
Children and adults need to have a proper understanding and appreciation for what Easter (the Resurrection) means to us.
My seminary professors asked our class many years ago, “What is the most important doctrine in Christianity?” We offered what we considered good responses: the Incarnation (God becoming human in Jesus), the Atonement (Jesus’ sacrificial death for our sins), even “the authority of the Bible” (remember, I was a Battlin’ Baptist then). “Wrong,” the professor said, “the most important doctrine in Christianity is ‘The Resurrection’, for without Jesus’ Resurrection, all other doctrines fail.” He was correct, and we learned an important truth.
As we come to the most important day on the Christian calendar, it is appropriate we should observe the Resurrection in more than routine way. Our wonderful chancel choir will bless us Sunday with an Easter Cantata. In what has become one of the two major annual outreach efforts at Christ UMC, we will conduct the second annual Children’s Easter Festival from 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. this Saturday (March 26). I want to thank all the volunteers, especially the men of the church who constructed games the children will enjoy, and Anita who spearheaded the major undertaking. We will have Christian cartoon videos for the children to watch while they eat or rest from riding the ponies, jumping in the inflated house, and playing the dozen or so games we will set up.
About three years ago I passed through the “welcome room” at the rear of our sanctuary one weekday afternoon. I saw a girl, about eight years old, peeking into our sanctuary. “Hi,” I said. My voice startled the little girl, having been transfixed by trying to take it in all that she saw in our worship center, decorated for Easter services. A member of the after-school program we had at the time, she apologized for staring into the inner sanctum of our church. In words that broke my heart, she said, “Pastor Bill, do you think one day I could actually go into the church? You see, my family doesn’t go to church, and I’ve never been inside.” Fighting back tears, I said, “Sweetheart, you sure can. Let’s do it now.” She delighted in her personal guided tour, thanked me, and ran outside telling her playmates the excitement she could not contain. I remember her often, and wonder if that remains her solitary venture into God’s Holiness. I also hope I never lose her excitement of being in God’s house, something we too easily take for granted.
Saturday, we hope we will see many children. For some, this will be their only contact with the church and Jesus, who said, “Suffer the little children to come unto me.” Pray that we will have good weather (so the children can see THEIR shadows), and that some children who otherwise have no contact with the meaning of Easter, may come to a better understanding of the most important doctrine in all of Christianity.
Art Linkletter (now 93 years old) appeared on Sunday’s Crystal Cathedral program. I rarely watch the program, but when I saw Mr. Linkletter’s face, I stopped channel surfing. In characteristic fashion, he told one of his “Kids Say the Darndest Things” stories. A Sunday School teacher asked a little girl, “What does Easter mean to Christians?” The girl replied, “Jesus died and they placed him in a cave. They rolled a big stone to seal the tomb. On Easter, Jesus came out of the tomb alive.” The teacher was impressed. “Then, what happened?” she asked. The little girl looked perplexed, and after a few moments of thinking said, “He looked down, saw his shadow, and went back in for six more weeks.”
Children and adults need to have a proper understanding and appreciation for what Easter (the Resurrection) means to us.
My seminary professors asked our class many years ago, “What is the most important doctrine in Christianity?” We offered what we considered good responses: the Incarnation (God becoming human in Jesus), the Atonement (Jesus’ sacrificial death for our sins), even “the authority of the Bible” (remember, I was a Battlin’ Baptist then). “Wrong,” the professor said, “the most important doctrine in Christianity is ‘The Resurrection’, for without Jesus’ Resurrection, all other doctrines fail.” He was correct, and we learned an important truth.
As we come to the most important day on the Christian calendar, it is appropriate we should observe the Resurrection in more than routine way. Our wonderful chancel choir will bless us Sunday with an Easter Cantata. In what has become one of the two major annual outreach efforts at Christ UMC, we will conduct the second annual Children’s Easter Festival from 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. this Saturday (March 26). I want to thank all the volunteers, especially the men of the church who constructed games the children will enjoy, and Anita who spearheaded the major undertaking. We will have Christian cartoon videos for the children to watch while they eat or rest from riding the ponies, jumping in the inflated house, and playing the dozen or so games we will set up.
About three years ago I passed through the “welcome room” at the rear of our sanctuary one weekday afternoon. I saw a girl, about eight years old, peeking into our sanctuary. “Hi,” I said. My voice startled the little girl, having been transfixed by trying to take it in all that she saw in our worship center, decorated for Easter services. A member of the after-school program we had at the time, she apologized for staring into the inner sanctum of our church. In words that broke my heart, she said, “Pastor Bill, do you think one day I could actually go into the church? You see, my family doesn’t go to church, and I’ve never been inside.” Fighting back tears, I said, “Sweetheart, you sure can. Let’s do it now.” She delighted in her personal guided tour, thanked me, and ran outside telling her playmates the excitement she could not contain. I remember her often, and wonder if that remains her solitary venture into God’s Holiness. I also hope I never lose her excitement of being in God’s house, something we too easily take for granted.
Saturday, we hope we will see many children. For some, this will be their only contact with the church and Jesus, who said, “Suffer the little children to come unto me.” Pray that we will have good weather (so the children can see THEIR shadows), and that some children who otherwise have no contact with the meaning of Easter, may come to a better understanding of the most important doctrine in all of Christianity.
Lines of Expectations and Circles of Complacency
Monday, March 14, 2005
I entitled Sunday’s sermon, “When God Gets Out Of Line”. We discussed how Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, an appropriate ending to Lent. God often acts outside the lines of our expectations, defying our limited faith and myopic vision. As difficult as it is to admit, in that regard, we are just like the Pharisees who constantly challenged Jesus about who, what, where, when and how he could perform miracles. The end result is we either to not recognize, or do not accept, the miracles God performs in our daily lives.
When we sit in our circles, whether in Bible study or committee meetings (necessary and worthy events in church life), we must look beyond the circle to the world Jesus loved and offered his life. I am amazed at how passionate churches become about which side of the chancel the piano is on, the color of new paint in the fellowship hall, and about who does and does not have access to certain rooms in the church. That is a church sitting in a closed circle, focused on itself, its needs and possessions. Many of those same churches fail to see the weeping young mother, the struggling older man at our door.
Sometimes Jesus acts “out of line” to disrupt of “comfortable circles of complacency”.
Lord, if I am in Ezekiel’s valley of dried bones, focused on the dust of the unimportant, the relics of religion rather than the Spirit Who gives new life, please act out of line, breathing new life into my parched and weary soul so that I may see your mission beyond the comfort of my complacency. Give me a new set of expectations of what you can, rather than what you cannot, do; if only I can muster a mustard seed of faith. Help me erase the lines I have drawn to segregate those things that are “mine”. Forgive my childishness. O Lord, all I am and all I have is yours. Use me and my meager possessions as instruments of your amazing love and grace to all mankind. Amen.
I entitled Sunday’s sermon, “When God Gets Out Of Line”. We discussed how Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, an appropriate ending to Lent. God often acts outside the lines of our expectations, defying our limited faith and myopic vision. As difficult as it is to admit, in that regard, we are just like the Pharisees who constantly challenged Jesus about who, what, where, when and how he could perform miracles. The end result is we either to not recognize, or do not accept, the miracles God performs in our daily lives.
When we sit in our circles, whether in Bible study or committee meetings (necessary and worthy events in church life), we must look beyond the circle to the world Jesus loved and offered his life. I am amazed at how passionate churches become about which side of the chancel the piano is on, the color of new paint in the fellowship hall, and about who does and does not have access to certain rooms in the church. That is a church sitting in a closed circle, focused on itself, its needs and possessions. Many of those same churches fail to see the weeping young mother, the struggling older man at our door.
Sometimes Jesus acts “out of line” to disrupt of “comfortable circles of complacency”.
Lord, if I am in Ezekiel’s valley of dried bones, focused on the dust of the unimportant, the relics of religion rather than the Spirit Who gives new life, please act out of line, breathing new life into my parched and weary soul so that I may see your mission beyond the comfort of my complacency. Give me a new set of expectations of what you can, rather than what you cannot, do; if only I can muster a mustard seed of faith. Help me erase the lines I have drawn to segregate those things that are “mine”. Forgive my childishness. O Lord, all I am and all I have is yours. Use me and my meager possessions as instruments of your amazing love and grace to all mankind. Amen.
Exodus
March 7, 2005
We took an overview of the first five books of the Bible, the Pentateuch, Saturday night at Genesis. (Attendance at Genesis has been excellent!) I was reminded of several guideposts of faith from that great book.
1. When God calls, He empowers for the calling. Moses was at first a reluctant leader. When God called Moses from the burning bush, Moses offered every excuse that came to mind. However, where Moses was weak, God had strengths to offset human frailty. He still calls us to serve him, imperfect as we are.
2. God has a plan for us from our birth. Moses was God-prepared for the task.
· The first 40 years of his life, Moses was the adopted son a Pharoah, learning the inner working of the Egyptian government. (That knowledge was essential when Moses demanded that Pharoah “Let my people go.”)
· The second 40 years of Moses life, he was a shepherd on the back side of the desert, learning wilderness survival skills that were critical for the exodus. Surely, Moses must have felt he was a failure during what appeared the low point of his life. Yet, God is working through our failures to prepare us for the rest of our life mission.
· The last 40 years of Moses life, he led the children of Israel from slavery to the edge of the Promised Land.
3. God expects leaders to lead. Moses often experienced criticism, whining, and second guessing from those he was called to lead. God said, (my paraphrase) “Moses, don’t take it personally. They are not whining at you; they are whining at me.” That whining costs many their lives! God upsets our comfort zone to move us toward the land of promise. With all his faults, Moses never stopped leading, whether his people were of a mind to follow or not.
4. Where there is no vision, the people perish. Moses knew where God’s vision was leading. When the Israelites arrived the first time at Kadesh-barnea, they could have immediately entered the Promised Land. Instead, they sent out spies, took a vote, and disobeyed God. The result: they wandered for 40 years in the wilderness, a whole generation died off, and they came right back to Kadesh-barnea where they had been 40 years earlier. What a waste of time and opportunity. When God says “Go”, we need not take a vote to see if the command is prudent.
Ironically, we will soon have a fourth congregation share our facilities beginning March 20. Their name: EXODUS Baptist Church (SBC). This predominantly African-American congregation of about 125 members will conduct Bible study and worship between 7:30 and 10:30 Sunday mornings. Please join me in making our new friends feel welcome at 33rd and Meade.
We took an overview of the first five books of the Bible, the Pentateuch, Saturday night at Genesis. (Attendance at Genesis has been excellent!) I was reminded of several guideposts of faith from that great book.
1. When God calls, He empowers for the calling. Moses was at first a reluctant leader. When God called Moses from the burning bush, Moses offered every excuse that came to mind. However, where Moses was weak, God had strengths to offset human frailty. He still calls us to serve him, imperfect as we are.
2. God has a plan for us from our birth. Moses was God-prepared for the task.
· The first 40 years of his life, Moses was the adopted son a Pharoah, learning the inner working of the Egyptian government. (That knowledge was essential when Moses demanded that Pharoah “Let my people go.”)
· The second 40 years of Moses life, he was a shepherd on the back side of the desert, learning wilderness survival skills that were critical for the exodus. Surely, Moses must have felt he was a failure during what appeared the low point of his life. Yet, God is working through our failures to prepare us for the rest of our life mission.
· The last 40 years of Moses life, he led the children of Israel from slavery to the edge of the Promised Land.
3. God expects leaders to lead. Moses often experienced criticism, whining, and second guessing from those he was called to lead. God said, (my paraphrase) “Moses, don’t take it personally. They are not whining at you; they are whining at me.” That whining costs many their lives! God upsets our comfort zone to move us toward the land of promise. With all his faults, Moses never stopped leading, whether his people were of a mind to follow or not.
4. Where there is no vision, the people perish. Moses knew where God’s vision was leading. When the Israelites arrived the first time at Kadesh-barnea, they could have immediately entered the Promised Land. Instead, they sent out spies, took a vote, and disobeyed God. The result: they wandered for 40 years in the wilderness, a whole generation died off, and they came right back to Kadesh-barnea where they had been 40 years earlier. What a waste of time and opportunity. When God says “Go”, we need not take a vote to see if the command is prudent.
Ironically, we will soon have a fourth congregation share our facilities beginning March 20. Their name: EXODUS Baptist Church (SBC). This predominantly African-American congregation of about 125 members will conduct Bible study and worship between 7:30 and 10:30 Sunday mornings. Please join me in making our new friends feel welcome at 33rd and Meade.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)