 |
previous Blogs March - September 2005 October - December 2005
January-June 2006
December 12, 2006
Go, Tell It on the Mountain!
What is it we “tell?” What stories do we share? Do our facial expressions and body language “give us away?” Do we, as that great Quaker writer Parker Palmer puts it, “Let our Lives Speak?” Or, are we “bushel basket” people who guard the light within for fear that someone may try to snuff it out?
In our best moments, of course, though we may have traveled through various valleys, you will find us standing on top of the mountain sharing the great and indescribable good news we have been given in the gift of Jesus Christ! And it is in his name that we carry out God’s important mission and ministry—in our community, across the region of Kentucky, even to the “ends of the earth.” This year’s Christmas offering, as you have already heard, will go directly to the region of Kentucky so that the great ministry taking place in that manifestation of the church might continue to thrive. Some of the ministries that will receive support from our offering will support:
· Our camp and conference programs
· Direct Regional Pastoral Support to strategize for congregational health and vitality
· Nurture of ministerial candidates
· Assistance in connecting local congregations with various calls and challenges from the “General Church” by way of General Assembly and matters of the General Minister and President’s heart.
Nelda Barnett was quoted in the November Kentucky Christian about this important offering. She said, “The Region spans the state of Kentucky and includes the ministry of the West Area. The very caring ministers on staff offer support for furthering the local congregation’s mission in a variety of ways, which include providing training sessions for clergy and laypeople, assistance in the Search and Call process for churches seeking a new pastor, providing guidance for the local pastors, leading the Disciple women’s and men’s ministries, and providing for the two camp locations…just to mention a few of the things we receive from the Region!”
We are, in fact, mountain top people who have no other choice than to share the good news we have known, and know to this day! May we contribute generously to this special offering so that others might hear the news!
Blessings,
Phil
December 5, 2006
People of Possibility…
Those who have faith live differently than those who do not. Obviously, I think that is good, but I have met some who think otherwise. Ironically, in my conversations with them, I usually discover that they have confused faith and religion. For them, to speak of one is to speak of the other. In fact, those who live without faith (because they think it is the same as “religion”) are correct in their assertion that religion has been the cause of many of the world’s problems. It has. There were the Christian crusades of the past. And there are some, quite honestly, who still do quite a bit of “crusading,” but have dressed it up so it doesn’t look as bad. And, of course, it isn’t as deadly (at least physically) as it once was. Today, there are fatwas in another of the world’s major religions that “stir the pot.” And, as we painfully know, religion, coupled with land issues, is what keeps the middle east in constant turmoil. Faith, however, is different. Indeed, where religion tends to say, “This is the way it is…,” faith affords other possibilities. Hope, which allows for possibilities, is based on faith (that which is not seen).
In the season of Advent we hear quite often from Isaiah. Isaiah is one of my favorite books of the Bible; and most certainly my favorite of the Old Testament. And as I watched the youth lead us in the worship experience on Sunday, I could not help but think of the line found in verse six of chapter eleven of that great book, “and a little child shall lead them.” There, along with other possibilities of what the Lord will accomplish at a future date, is the possibility that we will be led by a child. We have been and we will be. Along with a host of other improbabilities is the possibilityof a better tomorrow.
I know, of course, that this scripture passage involves more than a youth Sunday at a particular church on a specific Sunday, but the hope that was stoked in me (because of what worship was like) is not insignificant. And I want to express my gratitude to each and every young person who had a role to play in Sunday’s service. Special music was offered, an important message was instilled, heartfelt prayers were offered, and we were led to the table. Likewise, how blessed we are to have adults and youth sponsors (too many to name here) who helped the youth move us from “the land of the possible” to “the place of absolute certainty.”
In a world and time when we would be told that it isn’t probable that war will cease, hunger will be relieved, enemies can become friends, and shalom will cover the earth, we know better. Because we are people of faith, we are a people of possibility.
Living in Hope,
Phil
November 28, 2006
As the Candles Are Lit…
Of all the “seasonal traditions” in the Church, the lighting of the candles on the advent wreath is probably my favorite. As you know, there are four Sundays of preparation: Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. In the center of the wreath is a white candle (the “Christ candle”) and it serves as a reminder that apart from Christ in the center, the other four characteristics are not possible. And that, in part, is what has allowed me to freely believe that all of life (our hopes, dreams, understandings, actions, positions, opinions, and all the rest) must be based upon the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.
A friend and colleague of mine tells the story of the time (at an all-church planning retreat) that he had everyone gather in a circle. Then he took a little girl into the middle of it, and he handed her a rubber ball, and said, “throw this ball as hard as you can at the target.” And then he stepped out of the circle. The little girl stood there, confused. She turned around in every direction, but there was no target. There was nowhere to throw the ball “as hard as you can.” The minister then concluded, “This girl is us. We don’t have a defined place to pour our efforts. We have no target.”
Well, I believe our congregation has a target, and hits it rather well. Every time a group of folks (youth or adults) embark on a mission trip, we hit the target. Whenever a group shows up at the Pitino Center to serve lunch, we hit the target. Each time we welcome someone new into the fold, we hit the target. When the youth go shopping for a family who otherwise wouldn’t receive any gifts at Christmas (because of financial reasons), we hit the target. Whenever someone can say, “Life was more gentle because of your words or acts,” we hit the target. And we hit the target, because we know who is at the center.
Blessings,
Phil
November 14, 2006
On “Pushing Back”…
Hard to believe, I know, but Thanksgiving is just days away. Airplane tickets have been bought, travel plans have been made, and menus have been planned. Families will travel, friends will gather, and, of course, some will be alone (by choice or by hard reality). My hope, of course, is that everyone who wants to be with someone on this holiday will be.
In your time with those who are special to you, I pray that you will laugh, love, and know life differently from many of the other days of the year. I also hope you will know how to “push back” from the table and give thanks for what you have and know.
I am not a psychologist, and I don’t play one on TV; but as a watcher of people and listener of conversations, I would dare say that one of our greatest stumbling blocks to real contentment and peace is not knowing how to be grateful for what we have, and who others are. We spend far too much time seeking to acquire more stuff or change someone else. It is as though we take some portrait of how life should be (from Norman Rockwell or another) and when our realities do not match the picture, we become discouraged...some even become angry.
Of course, disappointment is real, and expectations are good to have. But when our contentment and joy is tied to our situation or circumstances, we are in trouble because either by design or cultural norms we are insatiable. We will always keep striving, always harping, always seeking to achieve “just one more thing.” And, really, it is never just “one more thing.”
If you think I’m making this stuff up, just listen: Listen to our conversations. “The meal was okay, but it would have been better if…” “She received four A’s and two B’s; we were hoping for “All ‘A’ Honor Roll.” “Worship would have been better if…” “I have a 2002 model, but it would be great if I could get something newer…”
I was raised with two other brothers; three boys in one house. You can imagine the small mindedness, petty conversations, and sheer silliness my parents listened to. I now appreciate their words when they’d say, “Alright...enough is enough.” So it is.
Enough is enough, and most of us have that. Some have more than that, but all of us expect more than enough. But this season allows us to literally and metaphorically “push back” from that which inhibits true joy, lasting peace, and the possibilities of better health.
From our home to yours, “Happy Thanksgiving.”
Phil
October 31, 2006
Unlikely Saints…
I miss him—not in some nostalgic way, but grievously so. One might say, from the outside looking in, we were an “odd” pair. He was old enough to be my father. Our political persuasions were polar opposite, and our theologies just as distant. We chose different words to express ourselves, and our levels of tolerance for anything considered “different” were not at the same threshold. He made a lot of money, lost it all, lost his health, and very nearly died. In fact, he was supposed to—that is what the doctors told him...stage four cancer. I talk to him about once a year now, but I still miss having breakfast with him every Monday morning. He is an unlikely saint!
As I think about it, it was our willingness to gather at “the Table” every Sunday that allowed us to meet at “a table” on Monday mornings. Some Mondays it was Cracker Barrel, and some Mondays it was the “greasy spoon” on Kings highway; but, wherever it was, it was “good.” I was, after all, in the presence of a saint; one who allowed God’s light to shine through in such a way that it did not scorch the others who were in his presence, but rather pointed to the Christ within him.
As we move toward “All Saints Day” I am mindful of the many folks who have been a blessing to my faith life: Those one would expect to name (parents, Sunday School teachers, pastors, and elders), but those unlikely folks, too. They are the ones who have walked through the wind-driven rainy nights, but who find a way to reflect the light of Christ. They are the ones who challenge our certainties, and help open us up to other possibilities. Perhaps it might be the one who has a great command of the language, and uses words not often spoken. Or, maybe, just maybe, it is one who shows up every Monday morning to pick you up for breakfast. And as you are opening the door he says, “Get in this truck, boy...and tell me how you are.”
In this season of counting our blessings, may we remember those saints who have touched us in positive ways.
Blessings,
Phil
October 17, 2006
An Incredible Witness…
Shortly before Stephanie and I graduated seminary and moved to Illinois, we received the terrible news that the adult daughter of the Presbyterian minister, in the little town to which we were headed, had been murdered in Joliet. It was devastating to the entire community, but the manner in which that tiny town mourned with Larry and Margaret was most exemplary. The two congregations (First Christian and First Presbyterian) had a long history of sharing ministry together, so there was an especially close tie. In fact, though she never said it exactly this way, the Search Committee Chair hinted that it was Rev. Larry’s agreeing to take a recent seminary graduate “under his wing” that helped the church take on someone directly out of seminary. In one of our conversations, I recall Larry saying something like, “I hope I can forgive some day, but right now I cannot.” My guess is that’s where most of us live when we experience being violated in such an extreme manner; we may be hopeful that one day we will get to the point of forgiving such heinous and grievous offenses, but not right now.
Enter the Amish. They are that group of people we have looked at strangely for their “backward ways,” for being stuck in a certain century, for not moving on with the times, and for the way they dress. Within the last couple of weeks, they have taught our nation (and the world) a powerful lesson. Even as the newscasters gave us the grizzly details of what happened in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania, we could only hear one word: forgive. And the way they live their lives also teaches us something about the value of community. It isn’t uncommon for an Amish family to receive a thousand or more visitors to their home when someone passes on from this earthly life. But, as bizarre and tragic as this story is, what makes it absolutely incredible is the way the Amish have reached out to the family of the gunman.
In Matthew’s Gospel, there are six antithetical teachings Jesus offers; they sound something like, “You have heard it said…, but I say to you…” The last of the six antitheses is found in Matthew 5:43-45: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.”
At the heart of the Christian faith is the very word the Amish choose to live: Forgive. Jesus taught about it; we are told that he uttered the word in prayer as he hung on the cross; and, Church tradition teaches that he died to achieve it for the human family.
Perhaps that “one day” is now.
Phil
September 26, 2006
Share the Feast…
That is the theme for next summer’s General Assembly in Ft. Worth: “Share the Feast.” And, I am hoping that those of you who have the time and resources to make the trip to Texas, will. Visions will be cast, messages will be spoken, and the gathered community will “share the feast” of the communion table.
Earlier in my life, when “high liturgy” was important for my spirituality, I would occasionally worship at Episcopal and Lutheran churches before spending a few years in the Catholic church. Each of those expressions of the Church celebrated and understood the “Eucharist” a little bit differently from the others, but the setting of the table was captivating for me in that season. It was done with painful detail and on tiptoe. It was the dénouement. A few drops of water were added to the wine and the gathered community believed that through some mystery, and by some prayer uttered, the wine became more than a glass of Mogen David. Similarly, something happened to the wafer that was held high by the celebrant and then gently snapped into pieces. And always, from one of those pieces, a crumb was dropped into the chalice. The Eucharistic ministers would take their places and those in attendance would be invited to share in the feast.
We Disciples celebrate communion with less fanfare and drama than our brothers and sisters in “higher” liturgical traditions, and our understanding is more remembrance than the actual “body” and “blood” of Jesus. Even so, it is a feast. A feast, Webster says, is “something that gives unusual or abundant pleasure.” Communion certainly does that, and this Sunday, World Communion Sunday, is a time when Christians around the globe gather at a common table to recall, remember, and to reunite ourselves with God and one another.
World Communion Sunday is a great “special Sunday” and certainly has taken on new meaning in these days. Because we are living in days that feel more “fearful” on account of war, terrorism, pandemics, and natural disasters we fervently seize this opportunity to celebrate our oneness in Christ Jesus.
This year marks the seventieth anniversary of World Communion Sunday. It began in the Presbyterian Church in 1936 and from the beginning it was meant to be celebrated by many other denominations. Ours is one of them. And it is one of my favorite Sundays of the year because it bears witness to something we hold extraordinarily dear--the unity of the whole Church.
This Sunday, as we gather at the table, and during your personal time of meditation, remember the Church at various places around the world: Sri Lanka, Germany, Haiti, and the countries of the African continent. And, give thanks!
I’ll see you at the “Table Place” this Sunday…
Phil
September 19, 2006
Four Calls; One Invitation…
Rare, perhaps too rare, are the moments I get to live on the “other side” of the “preaching event.” A bulk of my life is readying myself and the congregation for a shared worship experience on Sunday. So, it is refreshing, and a welcome respite, when I get to sit where many of you do. I had that opportunity last weekend at the regional assembly in Louisville. I heard two different people proclaim the “Good News.” Sharon Watkins, General Minister and President, called on us to love one another…even when we do not feel like doing so. To love, she said, was to live like we have already arrived at the place to which God has been calling us. In her sermon, she shared a tender story about what love looks like when it is grounded in love. During the war in Bosnia, Fadeel, a Muslim, risked his life by taking milk from his cow to a Christian Serbian family who just had a little baby. Because of the siege of their city and the lack of food, the newly born girl’s mother could not nurse; and, they had nothing to give her but tea. It looked as if she would die. But Fidel’s love and compassion changed all that; for two-hundred-eighty-four days, Fadeel would milk his cow and take two liters to the Serbian family. Their leadership told them they were enemies, but Fadeel and the Serb family knew better.
The other message I heard was Greg Alexander’s address to the assembly as the newly installed General Minister and President in Kentucky. In it, he called the Church to four “markers.”
First, he invited us to be a region (and people) of prayer.
Second, we have been challenged to be places of hospitality.
Third, hearkening back to our founding days, we have been charged to seek the unity of the Church.
Fourth, we were called to be people of compassion.
Greg spoke to each of these hopes he has for the regional Church, but then he extended an invitation to each of us. It is one, I hope, we will accept. And though I don’t know that he ever used the word, it begins with an “e” and ends with an “m” and there are other letters in between that make for one very scary word (“evangelism”). But, for we who love this expression of the Church known as the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) the alternative (extinction) is even more frightening.
As an illustration, Greg said if everyone in a congregation with an average worship attendance of one-hundred involved one new person in the life of the church, by the end of a year’s time the average worship attendance would be two-hundred. If they repeated that activity for a second year, and everybody did their part, the average worship attendance would be four-hundred. He carried that out four years: A congregation that once had one-hundred people attending worship now (at the end of four years) has one thousand six-hundred in worship. And, quite frankly, I believe it is possible. But the probability of that possibility rests equally with each of us; notice that this equation is based on each one cajoling, persuading, loving one other “disconnected person” to the table of grace and fellowship enough times in a given year that by the end of that year they are walking to that table on their own.
Interestingly, in his message, Greg planted the four posts of prayer, hospitality, church unity, and compassion before he gave us the math for growing a church from one hundred to sixteen-hundred. I am sure that was no accident.
I’ll see you at church!
Phil
September 12, 2006
When You Are Angry…
I heard on the news one evening last week that when seventy-six percent of Americans go to the polls in November, we will take with us a feeling of “anger” into the voting booth. We are angry about the price of gasoline. We are angry about a war that some of us believe should never have been waged, and others of us now see as a “quagmire.” We are angry that, in spite of legislation to raise educational expectations, SAT scores have taken a downward turn and our children are overtaxed with homework and not free to be kids anymore. We are angry that crime is on the rise. We are angry about growing old, and we are angry that our health isn’t what it once was. We are angry that our businesses aren’t turning the profit we had desired. Anger, if used appropriately, can be the spark needed to create positive alternatives to the way things presently are. But if our anger is not managed, it can trigger a volcanic eruption that spews junk everywhere and on anyone who happens to be in the way.
You don’t have to read very far into scripture to see anger mismanaged. In Genesis chapter four, we read that Cain became “very angry” at his brother. So angry, in fact, that Abel died at his brother’s own hands. The best I can tell is that Cain was jealous of the Lord’s delight in Abel’s gift, but not Cain’s. Maybe the moral of that story is eliminate the competition in order to have a better chance of gaining favor; but, think about living the rest of your days with “blood on your hands.”
In Exodus thirty-four, we read that the Lord is slow to anger, but is capable of experiencing that emotion and acting upon it. To be sure, God had to be convinced by Moses not to act from a sense of anger against the Israelites when, in their impatience with Moses’ absence, they began to worship other gods. God was prepared to make the Israelites “extinct.” But Moses pleaded their case and God, we are told, “changed his mind.” You can read more about that in the “Golden Calf” story in Exodus chapter thirty-two. But it was anger that moved God in that direction. It was God’s grace that spared them.
We human beings, though uniquely wired, have some common threads running through us. Each of us has the capacity to know a variety of emotions, including anger. We have been given such a gift for a reason. But when that gift is not managed or creatively deployed, then our anger becomes not only destructive to our own lives (loss of health, loss of relationships, etc.) it also eats away at the spirit of our home lives, our civic life, and our spiritual lives. When we do not harness the energy that such an emotion can produce; then, like shrapnel from a shot-gun blast, unintended pain and suffering is caused.
One of the great challenges before congregations in every time and place, including this one, is to model healthy community life so that others can see how diverse individuals with a variety of disappointments can live together and, in fact, draw strength and health from each other. Church, in other words, is that place called to live a “more excellent way.”
I’ll look forward to seeing you here; a place that presses on toward the goal of healthy community…
Phil
September 5, 2006
From the Broken Pieces, We Learn…
One of the first reports suggested that the plane was on an unlit runway. The control tower operator (reportedly stretched thin and working on too little sleep) turned his back to tend to other matters. But before those events unfolded, the pilots mistakenly boarded the wrong plane and rushed to get to the airplane they were slated to fly. And that, they think, is what happened to Comair Flight 5191. It was the convergence or confluence of those different “happenings” that created an awful tragedy. A professor emeritus of aerospace engineering at St. Louis University was quoted in Sunday’s paper as saying, “There’s an old rule that says if you make three little mistakes in a row you’re going to have an accident, and that’s what happened.” What we will never know, of course, is what the “tomorrows” would have been like should that plane have been able to get airborne. There was a newlywed couple thinking about what their shared life could become. On that plane was a sixty-four year old woman going to meet her sister so the two could experience an Alaskan cruise together. A forty-nine year old veterinary technician was going home to Canada to practice what she learned at the seminar she just completed. From the broken pieces we learn, again, something about the fragility and sacredness of life. Bishop Gainer in Lexington told those at a prayer service, “The whole world can change in 15 seconds and there is no effective quick fix for the pain.”
As people of faith, who have one foot in this world and one foot in another world (one more transcendent) we live with both trepidation and hope and sometimes waiting for that “other shoe to drop.” And we are “dumbstruck” when it does. It is as though our faith sometimes leads us to believe that the living of this life should be a fairytale because we do believe. “How could this happen?” she asks, “He was such a good Christian man.” Indeed, he was. But regardless of any faith we affirm, there are little rules in aviation, medical research that shows, and distractions that can come together to ignite a disastrous result. From the broken pieces, we learn much about the tenuousness of life, and from the broken pieces there is something for the church, the body of Christ, to remember.
Chances are when the road is dark, unlit, and uncertain most will not ask for a candle or flashlight. Because there is a fear of being vulnerable, more than likely, those weary travelers will not ask for any light that may radiate from the candle we carry.
On the other hand, nobody I’ve ever known has rejected the light when it is gently offered. And seeing the quizzical look on our faces few of us will flatly reject another’s kind offer to help us find our way. Indeed, more than once somebody has said to me, “You look lost. I’m from here. Where do you want to go?” And, without fail, upon following their input I always arrived at the place I wanted to be. Nobody ever “tricked me,” or led me astray.
The Church, the body of Christ, is both light and compass. We know that. What we sometimes forget is that we are “from here” and have our home in God, too. That, therefore, makes us the prime candidate to show the way.
I’ll see you at the “Light Place”…
Phil
August 22, 2006
Resting in the Promise…
Ole and Olga lived on a farm in Iowa. Olga was starved for affection. Ole never gave her any signs of love, and Olga’s need to be appreciated went unfulfilled. At her wit’s end, Olga blurted out, “Ole why don’t you ever tell me that you love me?” Ole stoically responded, “Olga, when we were married I told you that I loved you, and if I ever change my mind, I’ll let you know.”
Obviously, Ole could have done better, and Olga wasn’t asking for too much. But there are those for whom enough is never enough. Insatiable spirits is how I refer to them, and every family, every work environment, and every place where two or more are gathered has at least one. They are like the proverbial “black hole” that seeks to suck the life out of anyone who happens to cross their path. The more you give, the less good it does. But, for some, even God cannot seem to do enough. Yet, such a way is not inconsequential.
Theologically, there are consequences to such a dynamic. If we say, “I need a sign or something to know that God loves me (or us)” what does that do to the event of “Good Friday”? Though I have never really come to terms with the reasons for that historical event, I have had to do something with it theologically, and I choose not to reduce the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus by asking for something more. Love hung on the cross and I rest in the promise that there is still hope and life to be had because it did.
Blessings,
Phil
August 11, 2006
Setting Our Sights (and keeping you informed)….
When I was in high school, I would occasionally tune in to a great soul station in Washington, D.C., WKYS were the call letters. Those were the days of Teddy Pendergrass and other great soul musicians. Anyway, one of the DJ’s on 93.9 KYS would sign off his radio show by saying, “Shoot for the moon; and even if you miss…you’ll still be among the stars.”
We have come to paraphrase a piece of scripture by saying, “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” In other words, if we don’t know where we are going, we cannot get there. And because it is too easy to show up and do the same things over and over again, in addition to performing the basic elements of ministry, I seek to have a few additional “goals” to keep me from becoming complacent. This year, listening to the congregation’s desires and my own heart, I have set the following three goals for my ministry with the congregation.
Goal #1: Foster evangelism as a congregational priority.
The achievement strategy for this goal will include: (a) encouraging the elders to devote part of their meeting time to discussing Jan Linn’s book, Reclaiming Evangelism: A Practical Guide for Mainline Churches and (b) addressing the topic in sermons and newsletter articles.
Goal #2: Expand our present music ministry.
This goal will be achieved, as suggested by the listening conference report, by calling a “Music Minister” to oversee/coordinate/develop an ongoing program of music that includes children, youth and adults as well as all services.
Goal #3: Attend a clergy self-care event.
Now that I have informed you where I have set my sights for this year, I want to keep you up to date about the search process. You are keenly aware that a Search Committee has been working since last July to secure an associate minister to deal specifically with the youth and educational ministries of the congregation. That group continues to search for one who is interested and passionate about such a ministry, but it has not been a process without some frustration and disillusionment. Unfortunately, for a denomination that brags on how important education is, and how we are people of the “enlightenment era,” we don’t produce a lot of seminary trained folks who want to focus on such ministry. The pool of candidates is rather small. Even so, the committee has not lost heart and continues to press forward to find one who understands the ministry of Christian Education as vital to a congregation’s health. Nevertheless, I want to encourage you to pray for the committee as it seeks to do right by God and for our children and youth.
The congregation has recently purchased some property on Daviess Street and, at some point, will raze the condemned buildings that are not only an eyesore, but also a danger. What becomes of them after that, of course, is a question worth addressing. There is no hurry to make such decisions, but I invite you to pray for congregational leadership as it discerns what to do, if anything, with these recent acquisitions.
Phil
July 28,2006
If You Forget Everything Else, Remember Your Baptism…
After several hours on the road (on our way back from the beach), John blurted out, “My Shox! I forgot my Shox!” Shox are sneakers made by Nike, and while he was in Maryland visiting my mom for a week before we went to the beach, she took him “back to school” shopping. For a couple of reasons, the shoes are special. I guess that is why he “hid” them in a dresser drawer in the room in which he was staying. Fortunately, Steph’s dad was staying a day longer than we could, and we called and asked if he would retrieve them and send them to us. John was relieved to hear that “Papa Ross” would be more than happy to. There, on North Carolina Highway 74, a modern day parable unfolded…the lost had been found and John could walk into sixth grade a little more confident than he would have been otherwise. “Cool kids wear Shox, Dad.” We’re still working on economics and issues of justice in our home and that all important lesson that shoes are shoes.
I came back to Owensboro with less than what I took with me, and I mean more than money. Indeed, I intentionally left a few things on the beach (at that point where the water’s edge meets the dry sand.) I dropped a few things off at that point where the roll of the tide pulls anything placed at that pivotal point back into the water… out to sea…never to be seen again. While I was away, except for a few matters heavy on my mind and heart, I forgot about the daily rhythm here at the church and at home. I planned it that way. It is what “sabbath rest” is about, and it is something we all need. I am sure you wouldn’t have wanted me to carry “the grind of the every day” with me. But, even as I intentionally forgot almost everything I experience many days, the ocean reminded me of something none of us can ever forget: the renewing power of our baptisms. I should probably incorporate that line in our worship more often. It reminds us of who we are, and how we can become even more of the selves God intends for us to become: “Remember your baptism.”
At the Board meeting on July 10th, I placed a candle at each chair around the tables where we tend to the church’s “business.” And rather than offering a closing prayer, I asked us to listen to “Go Light Your World” by Chris Rice. As we began another “church year” I wanted us to hear those words as a commission of sorts. But before I turned on the CD player, I said something like, “Sometimes…sometimes…in all of our efforts to see that every “i” is appropriately dotted and “t” accurately crossed, we forget what our business really is.” And then we listened together to the refrain of “Go Light Your World.” “Carry your candle, run to the darkness, seek out the helpless, confused and torn. And hold out your candle for all to see it; take your candle, and go light your world. Take your candle and go light your world.”
In these days, may we remember our baptisms, relive the renewing power of the baptismal waters, pick up our candle, and light the world’s way. The world can afford for us to forget our shoes, wear the “uncool” kind, and deal with our own brokenness, but what the world cannot afford for us to forget is our baptisms.
Blessings,
Phil
July 14, 2006
Images of God…
When I was a child, the barbershop was, for several reasons, one of my least favorite places. There were several my dad would take us to, but the one beside “Longmeadow Shopping Center” was the one I cared for the least. The Razor’s Edge was the name of it. And to a “doubting Thomas” like me, I feared that the edge of the razor might cut a little too close. That’s one reason I didn’t care for the barbershop. But more than the fear of accidentally being cut, it was a picture that hung in the waiting area that caused the most anxiety. It was a “picture” of God: old, white, and bearded…Hewas. With his index finger pointing in humanity’s direction, and a scowl upon his face, the words beneath the picture read, God is a jealous God.
I didn’t like God very much when I was waiting to get my hair cut.
The Presbyterian Church recently accepted a paper at their General Assembly in which the issues of language and imagery were brought before the gathering. And, like so much else in the media, one statement, or a few words, was pulled out to make a grand story. Presbyterians call God a Rock, is what they wanted us to hear. In actuality, the core issue seems to be about how best to express an affirmation of Trinitarian theology; ways that “plumbs the depths.” In all honesty, I am pretty confident I could not end a prayer or sing a doxology that ended with Rock, Womb, and Water. I still wrestle with what the hullabaloo is all about when referencing Christ as male. I understand the “inclusive language” issue when it comes to God; but making a historical figure “gender neutral” is something I don’t get. Even so, we all need to find images that work in ways that help us understand who the “Great I Am” is.
A friend of mine pictures a “ball of energy” when he thinks of God. Some picture a gentle flowing stream, or a loving parent who is all heart and ears. Some see God as the perfect “grandmother” or “granddad.” And some, like the person who hung that picture at the barbershop, envision God as One perpetually angry at the world and we who are part of it.
Anyway, I am keenly aware and constantly reminded that one of the main tasks of the church is to paint images of God that are: (a) fairly representative; and (b) helpful in making God “real” to us in this twenty-first century.
I will look forward to seeing you at the “canvas place” in a couple of weeks.
Phil
Click here to go to Phil's Blog for March - September 2005
Click here to go to Phil's Blog for October - December 2005
Click here to go to Phil's Blog for January - June 2006
|
