A Wee Dram

The Hospitality of Space

2012-05-23T19:12:00.000-05:00

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From Belief to Trust

2012-05-14T14:27:00.001-05:00

In a time of great change, the question of identity becomes critical. There was a time when it was assumed (often wrongly) that being a Presbyterian or a Methodist or a Baptist meant certain things. You could extrapolate from denominational affiliation certain doctrines, worship styles, and, to a greater or lesser degree, political affiliations and social status. Whether it was right or wrong to do so, and regardless of how accurate the assumptions were, there was a certain safety and security in knowing your identity, a security embodied in the name of the denomination on the church sign. If you ever forgot what it meant to be, say, a Presbyterian, there were curriculum resources, books, and people in Louisville ready to help you remember.

In every congregation I have served, there are people who always clamor for a class on "What Presbyterians Believe." As Diana Butler Bass writes in her new book, "Christianity After Religion," such classes are the model from an era that is fast fading away. Locating identity, whether it is personal identity or the identity of a congregation or a denomination, in questions of dogma is answering a set of questions that fewer and fewer people are asking. Bass writes, "It is not only the case that the Western world has grown weary of doctrine, but Christianity itself is changing - shifting away from being a belief-centered religion toward an experiential faith." People do not want to "believe in God;" they want to "experience God."

Bass quotes a conversation she had with a young Christian, the only young and single member of her large university town Lutheran Church: "I love this congregation. The people have become my family." She paused, and her voice dropped to a confessional whisper. "But I don't know what to say to my classmates when they ask me what I believe. Whenever I say 'I believe in Christianity,' they look at me as if I'm crazy. Besides, I don't even know if I believe 'in' Christianity or Lutheran doctrine or anything like that. I just experience how to love God and how God loves me through these people, by learning how to...sing those hymns. I don't know what to call it, but it is less about believing and more about living. Does that still count as being Christian?"

I have a number of people in the church I serve who cannot say the creed. They have come to me at various times to let me know that they find it impossible to say words they cannot affirm rationally. The virgin birth makes no sense to them; nor does the idea of ascension. For a few of them, resurrection is problematic. I ask them, "Why do you still come to church, if you cannot affirm these things?" All of them respond with variations on this theme: "I experience God here." The God they experience in this community is a God bigger than all the categories, including doctrinal categories, we may try to impose.

We may think the folks who take a pass on the Creed in worship are in the minority, and for now we might be right, though I suspect there are many who say the words while harboring their own unspoken questions. But the trend lines are clear and unequivocal - their number is increasing. The church of the 21st century will increasingly have to share its hospitality not only in its open doors but also in its openness to questioners and doubters.

I am not advocating that we dispense with doctrine or with educating our people on the meaning and value of the creeds and confessions of the church. I am not a fan of the question, "What's the least I can believe and still be a Christian?" But I do think we miss the meaning of the creeds of the church if we see them as asking "what" we believe about God instead of "how" we experience God. Douglas John Hall encourages us to retrieve the root meaning of the words "faith" and "believe," which are a matter of trust, of giving one's heart to someone - of love.

Perhaps we should stop saying "I believe" and start saying "I trust..."

I trust in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth...
And I give my heart to Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord...
I trust in the Holy Spirit, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.

This is what it means to believe, to have faith. It reclaims these words from a western culture that is too eager to make belief a question of rational assent. If we begin with this basis for belief, it will enable us to move more deeply into doctrinal matters without the literalism and fundamentalism that becomes very tempting for all churches - whether they are more liberal or more conservative in nature.

Where is your faith centered - in ideas or doctrines about God, or in experiences of God, or in something else entirely? What is your relationship to the Creed or the confessions of the church? Do you say the Creed without a doubt? Do you say it reluctantly? Partially? Not at all? What about the people around you - family, friends, co-workers? What are the faith questions you hear them asking? Are they the "what do you believe about God?" questions or the "how do you experience God?" ones. And do you find your congregation (if you are part of one) open to questions, merely tolerant of them, or actively discouraging?

There is no doubt that we are entering a time of unprecedented change in the church in the United States. Though it is a time of some anxiety for those of us who try and help lead the church, I am grateful to have conversation partners like you on the journey. Peace and blessings to you as we learn together how to believe, how to trust, in the faith, hope, and love of God.

What Remains

2012-05-10T20:28:00.005-05:00

"And now, faith, hope, and love abide - these three - and the greatest of these is love."

Might the future of the church in these "postmodern" days rest in this Gospel proclaimed by Paul - a Gospel centered in his own understanding of the freedom Christ brings to the world?

As I approach one month into the sabbatical, these words from Paul keep coming around, as if God is inviting me to dive more deeply into three words at the very end of a passage that too often is only read in the context of weddings. They hint at something beyond the bride and groom, something beyond bouquets and tuxedos. Paul speaks of the end of all things in this little chapter in Corinthians, when the world will be stripped down to its essentials and we will all discover together what lies beneath all that is - seen and unseen. Three things remain, says Paul, which is a way of saying these three things are the essentials, the stuff of which life - true life - consists. All else will pass away, save faith, hope, and love. And the greatest, the first of all, is love.

At the end of the month I travel to Montreal to spend a week with Douglas John Hall, Professor Emeritus in the Religion Department at McGill University. Dr. Hall is an inspiration to me; his theology has been formative for my ministry for many years. It is a gift beyond words that he has agreed to spend this time with me one on one. At eighty four years old, he continues to write, having just published a new book on the topic I am exploring entitled Waiting for Gospel. I have my copy and he and I will discuss it as part of our time together.

I continue to be moved by his assertion that the church of the future, if it is to be faithful to the Way of Jesus Christ, will operate by "a theology of faith (not sight); of hope (not finality); and of love (not power)." He believes that people outside the church are looking for a gospel of faith, hope, and love. But too often what they find are churches filled with pious certainty, closed traditions, and an infatuation with power.

Hospitality may be the natural outgrowth of an engagement with the good news beyond certitude, finality, and power; what Paul calls "a still more excellent way," the greatest of which is love.

Can we imagine - dare we imagine - the end of all things? Can we see what it may look like when we no longer gaze through a glass darkly, but face to face? We do not know ultimately what that will be like, but if our brother Paul is to be trusted, we know what will remain. Can we live even now in the light of that day? To do so would be life as it is meant to be, in God.

Staked to a Purpose

2012-05-04T14:42:00.002-05:00

In the National Book Award winning novel, Let the Great World Spin, Corrigan, a nineteen year old college student in a Jesuit school, experiences the rhythm of worship among the Jesuit brothers -

"Mass in the early dawn. Hours of theological study. Afternoon walks through the fields. Night walks along the Barrow River, beseeching his God out under the stars. The morning prayers, the noontime prayers, the evening prayers, the complines. The glorias, the psalms, the gospel readings. They gave a rigor to his faith, it staked him to a purpose."

I went into my sabbatical already convinced that if the church was to be renewed in our day, worship will be a key part of that renewal. After my time among the brothers at Holy Cross I now believe worship will be the centerpiece of renewal. Renewal will not come from a new program purchased from the denomination or from a consultant; it will not be born of more busyness or a frenetic following after and mimicking of "successful" congregations. Renewal will come as it always has - as a gift, a grace, from the hand of God. As the church worships faithfully, creating space for the grace of God, staking itself to a purpose, we will discover our renewal in surprising places, among unexpected people, on God's time.

The real question for me, for us, is if we have the discipline, the patience - the faith in God - to be who we are even as we await who we shall be. I believe we do. I live and work among a congregation that teaches me each day what such discipline, patience, and faith looks like in the world. My experience at Holy Cross has only deepened my gratitude for the congregation and denomination through which I serve God.

At Holy Cross, the first worship service beckons not long after the dawn. Each morning my little window in the monk's cell shone bright with the rising sun. I would go to it and stare out to the east, the gently rocking waters of the Hudson shining with golden light. And then the bell would ring, summoning me to continue my early worship in the sun-drenched chapel. The bell tolls five minutes before each of the services of worship throughout the day:

1. Matins - 7:00 a.m. The word comes from a Latin phrase that means "of the morning." In Roman Catholic communities it is the last of several evening prayers called "Nocturnals." The Anglican tradition combined those evening services into one early morning worship. Like many of the services, Matins centers on the chanting of several psalms with the theme of praise.

2. Eucharist - 9:00 a.m. The community celebrates the Eucharist daily, and all guests are invited to participate. The service follows a traditional order that many Presbyterians would recognize, culminating with all the participants gathering in a circle around the Lord's Table, sharing the peace of Christ, and then taking Communion. There is a great joy permeating this service that peaks at the Table - it is a true celebration of the presence of Christ.

3. Diurnum - Noon. The word "Diurnum" means "of the day." This is a service unique to the Anglican monastic tradition. It is a simple service, centered in the reading of psalms. At the heart of the worship is ten minutes of silence. The silence took me off-guard the first day; it seemed to last much longer. By the time I left, I looked forward to this service and that long silence more than any other.

4. Vespers - 5:00 p.m. Vespers occurs right before supper, and is characterized with more singing than any other worship. All the prayers, psalms, and scripture readings are intoned, and there are a good number of hymns. I entered the supper hall each evening with a song of peace in my head that often stayed with me into the night.

5. Compline - 8:05 p.m. All the lamps in the chapel are lit, and the worship space is cast in shadows. The service is more subdued, filled again with psalms and hymns. The theme of the service is thanksgiving, and it takes on the character of a preparation, not only for the sleep of this particular evening, but also for the sleep we will all enter in death. The service ends with the worship leader sprinkling baptismal water on all the participants. We leave the service in silence, which will be kept for the next twelve hours. We walk out of that space and into the night with a powerful reminder of our baptisms, water droplets still visible on our heads and clothing.

In between these times of worship I met with a small group of Christians from a diversity of traditions, each of us seeking what it means to serve within the church at a time when Christianity is no longer at the center of the culture. Diana Butler Bass walked us through her book, Christianity after Religion, a sobering snapshot of current conditions and a hope-filled invitation to courageous exploration of a future beyond establishment.

At one point, Dr. Bass said, "Churches need to move beyond simply asking "Who are we?" and begin asking, "Who are we, in God?" The prepositional phrase, "in God," changes our task from one of discovering a niche market or doing church the way we do politics - polling ourselves to gauge how we feel at any given moment. Instead, our eyes are turned away from us and toward God. Who are we, in God? Without adding the prepositional phrase, we fall prey to our modern propensity to make everything about us. With it, we are reminded that "spiritual journeys are entwined with the great 'I AM.' 'In God,' orients our selfhood in a larger relationship; we are ourselves, but we are not isolated individuals, we exist 'in' something." And then she said something that brought all the experiences of the week together in a moment of clarity that shone like the early morning sun through my window - "Christians do not worship to be entertained; Christians listen to sermons, sing, partake of bread and wine in community to be in Jesus."

The purpose of worship is to locate ourselves in the God we know in Jesus Christ. It is only as we are staked to this purpose, only as we come out of ourselves and understand ourselves in relationship to God that we will discover who we are in God. It is in this discovery that the seeds of renewal lie. They have been there all along. Like the tolling of the bell across the waters of the Hudson, God summons us to our highest call in the world - the worship of God's name. May worship imbue all our hours with joy, and may we find ourselves staked to its purpose.

Welcoming the Stranger: Five Rules According to the Benedictines

2012-04-27T10:10:00.002-05:00

1. The Vision Thing. The community lives by the common vision of welcoming the stranger as an act of faith and discipleship. A sign in front of the church that says, "All are welcome" is no guarantee that all are really welcome. The people of the church - from the staff to the lay leaders to the members, the youngest to the oldest - have to see hospitality as a value and a priority.

The Benedictines live by the Rule of St. Benedict that "All who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say, 'I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.'" Their actions are grounded in a theological vision of Christ's church and the Kingdom of God. Our efforts at hospitality are likewise not for the purpose of growing the church or expanding the giving base, but because it is our calling in the world. The Risen Christ is loose in the world, and his presence is in all we meet, including - especially - the stranger. So to truly welcome the stranger is to welcome Christ.

In addition to the monastery, I was able to worship on Sunday at Riverside Church. It was a rainy day, and without an umbrella I was soaked by the time I walked from the Subway station to the church. I was about five minutes late, and entered the sanctuary dripping onto the tile, shuffling to find a pew. The congregation was singing the opening hymn, and as soon as I got to my pew, a woman on the other end walked down to me and handed me her hymnal, opened to the hymn She pointed to the stanza we were singing and then went back to her side of the pew. As the final hymn began, it became clear to me that the wrong hymn number was printed in the bulletin, and the minute I realized it, I heard a murmuring throughout the sanctuary, everyone calling out quietly to those around them the correct number.

This kind of attention to the needs of the other, of the stranger, is not something that can be programmed; it emerges from a community that sees hospitality as it's calling in the world.

2. The Bulletin as Hospitality. The worship bulletin (or screen for those congregations that use them in place of a bulletin) is a vital means of welcome. For churches that continue to worship out of deep wells of tradition, like the Benedictines and some Presbyterians, these traditions must be made accessible to all, especially to those who may be experiencing them for the first time. Every moment of worship should be printed (or projected), even those we think "everyone" knows. Doing so communicates that this is not a closed tradition or a mystery reserved for insiders, but is open and available to all.

At Holy Cross, every moment of worship is explained, which was helpful for me since I do not worship in the Anglican tradition. The explanations were not only about logistics (sit here, stand here), but were theological (why we sit here or stand there). Multiple times, verbally and in writing, all guests are encouraged to participate in the liturgy. However, we were not forced to participate. To sit in silence for the duration of the service was acceptable, and the monks made sure we knew that silent participation was a valid means of worship as well. Worship lies at the center of the life of the community, and regardless of how we worship, the richness of our liturgy should be readily available to all.

3. Handrails, Elevators, and Gluten-Free Bread. These are not rules so much as they are the outgrowth of Rule #1 above, but I include it separately because in our current age it seems especially important to recognize that hospitality extends to those with physical challenges.

The monastery was a very old building, but the community spent a significant amount of time and money making it accessible to all. And this accessibility was not something that became important for them in recent times with the advent of laws to insure it. The monks joked during orientation that everyone would need to treat the old elevator with care. It was built in the middle of the last century. Before it was ever politically correct or required by law, the Benedict rules of hospitality, grounded in a theological vision, compelled the community to make the entire building accessible to all.

All churches that embrace hospitality will conduct regular inventories to ascertain that all people, regardless of physical or mental challenges, are able to worship and participate fully in the life of the community.

4. Table Fellowship is not Just About the Food. Don't get me wrong, just like at First Presbyterian the food at Holy Cross was amazing. But the presence of food alone is no guarantee that fellowship is happening. Every communi establishes unwritten table rules, and these rules are where welcome or exclusion are most deeply felt. Regardless of what a community writes on its website or in its bulletin, at table the true values of the community become clear for all to see. We are called as congregations to be care-full in the ways we eat together, and willing to examine how our table habits either welcome or exclude the stranger.

5. Be Who You Are. Being all things to all people is not genuine hospitality. As a guest at Holy Cross, I would have been offended if the monks had changed who they were or their way of worshipping in order to make a Presbyterian feel more at home. I was a guest there because I wanted to experience their way of worship and their common life. I think too many churches in all of the traditions have spent the better part of the last thirty to forty years diluting and dumbing down their traditions and calling it hospitality. It is not working, I think, because it doesn't ring true to the guests who come into our houses of worship.

The Benedictines are far from perfect. But they have at the core of their way of life a simple rule - all strangers are to be received as Christ. It is a rule that I think holds the key to the revitalization of the Christian church. I am grateful for all the ways the church I serve seeks to welcome the stranger, and I look forward to exploring with the, how we might embody this simple Benedictine, this simply Christian, way of being the church in the world.

Hospitality: Lessons from the Benedictines

2012-04-26T14:27:00.000-05:00

The first sign of hospitality may be unintentional, but the affect on me is real - incense. The smell of incense is not overpowering, but subtle, as if the years of daily worship in this community have left small traces of themselves soaked in the old wood. Every nook of the place gives off the smell of worship.

The use of incense in worship in the Catholic, Anglican, and Orthodox Traditions date to the fourth century CE. It finds it's origins in ancient Jewish worship, hints of which we can detect in the Psalms - "Let my prayers rise to you as incense." It is the smell of prayer, a sign in the here and now of what we hope for in the time to come, when we will be surrounded by prayer continually, when all our words, all our breath, will be prayer. To walk into the Benedictine monastery is to be confronted - wordlessly - with the mystery of communion with God.

As soon as I am in the door, Brother Alfonso smiles and extends his hand, directing me to the main office to register. What seems a chance encounter reveals itself on closer inspection to be an intentional act of welcome. No sooner am I finished registering than Brother Alfonso appears again and asks if I would like a tour of the facility before I take my bags to my room. He walks me through every room, sharing a bit of history and letting me know exactly where everything I need is located. Along the way, he shares some of his own story. He began his vocation in this same monastery forty six years ago. He was part of a number of other communities over his life, and now was assigned back where he began, at Holy Cross. "They have probably brought me back here to die," he says with a laugh. "But I can't think of anywhere I'd rather breathe my last." As he spoke, we breathed in the incense, and the words he spoke mixed with the smells, testifying to the promises of God.

After the tour, he lets me know there will be an orientation later that night where our group will be able to ask questions. "We will tell you what we do here, and what we don't do." It was clear that I am part of the "we." I will be part of this community, bound by the covenants and rules that bound these brothers.

At orientation we learned about The Great Silence. Beginning after the last worship of the day, we will be silent for twelve hours - no conversation, no "noise-making" of any kind, and strong discouragement of any electronics. In fact, the monks did not allow speaking on cell phones anywhere within the buildings at any time. All phones are to be used outside only. All meals are to be taken together, anwether monks ask us to be present before the meals so we can pray as a group for our food. Breakfast occurs during The Great Silence, so there is no conversation. Lunch begins in silence so we can listen to a reading. The monks read through a variety of books this way through the year. There is no saving of seats. I saw someone try to save a seat one time. One of the brothers spoke to her quietly, and I didn't see that happen again. The monks sit among the guests during meals, and this is one of the best times to converse with them. Supper is the liveliest meal, with lots of laughter echoing in the dining hall.

I will blog a little later about the worship life of this community. For now, though, I wonder about the lessons the Benedictines can teach an old Presbyterian like me about hospitality outside of the sanctuary. A few things come to mind based on my brief sojourn, and I will share them tomorrow - The Top Five Benedictine Rules for Welcoming the Stranger.

I give thanks for the generous, authentic hospitality given to me by my brothers at Holy Cross. Every time I smell incense, I will remember them. And when I remember them, I will experience again the grace of God poured out through their community, and my prayers of praise will rise like incense before God.

The Big Apple Benedictines

2012-04-18T15:32:00.003-05:00

I met St.Benedict on the 33 Q bus from LaGuardia Airport to Jackson Heights. He was hard of hearing. It wasn't until he leaned over and asked me to repeat myself twice that I saw the large hearing aids protruding from his head.

"Is the last stop on this route going to get me to the #7 train?" I asked, trying hard to avoid sounding as desperate as I felt. I was beginning to realize how poor my map reading skills were, and all the stops looked the same to me.

"I'm not sure...Hold on." He got out his phone and started thumbing through information. Then he turned to another guy behind him - "Does the 7 train leave from Jackson Heights and 24th?" Getting confirmation, he turned back to me. "You want to get off two stops up."

The next stop, he got off the bus and started walking down the street. As the driver was closing the doors, Benedict turned around quickly, ran back to the door of the bus, came inside, and yelled, "Sorry man, this is your stop. Come on." I got off the bus, and followed his out-stretched arm as he pointed across the street. "Just take those stairs to the Number 7 train."

I saw Benedict again as I was preparing to slide my Metro Card and go through the turnstiles. She yelled, "You want to go on the other side. That's the wrong way." I guess she saw my confused look - how did she know where I wanted to go? "Weren't you going to Grand Central?" She was also on the bus, but I hadn't noticed her. She had overheard the conversation.

Finally seated on the train, I felt more comfortable. I knew the trains had a map with each stop indicated, and it would be easy to spot Grand Central. When the train began stopping at what I assumed was Grand Central terminal, I started to get up, and, in a sudden flash of insecurity, asked the man sitting next to the door, "This is Grand Central, right?"

"No, " he replied, then added, in broken English, "I tell you. You watch me. I tell you. "

For the next three stops, as the train would slow down, I would look up and see St.Benedict there, shaking his head. Finally, on the third stop, he nodded and smiled, and I made my way through the door.

After a long, sunny train trip along the Hudson River and a short cab ride from the train station, I walked through the doors of Holy Cross Monastery. Posted there is a portion of the Rule of Saint Benedict - "All guests are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say, 'I was a stranger and you welcomed me.'" But by the time I got within the safe confines of the monastery, nestled in among the trees of rural New York, I had already been welcomed in the middle of the city, stranger that I am, in the Benedictine Way, which is to say the Way of Christ.

I sought retreat in order to discover more the path of hospitality. I thought it might help show the way I and the church I serve could strengthen our faithful witness in these rapidly changing times. But the people on the public buses and trains of New York City showed it to me ahead of time, in a place where it was not expected and could not be reciprocated. It was an act of sheer grace.

Christ is present wherever grace abounds, whether he is acknowledged or not. I give thanks for his presence shining through the hospitality of the city.

Putting the "Dis" in Disestablishment

2012-04-13T14:57:00.005-05:00

My sabbatical begins officially April 15, but I think it may have actually started more unofficially last night in the check out line of the grocery store. I was standing there with my daughter, we had just finished unloading the buggy when I noticed the Newsweek magazine cover pictured here.

I remembered linking to this article by Andrew Sullivan on my Facebook page a few days ago, but seeing this striking image on slick paper in the check out line seemed like a sabbatical moment. After all, part of what I am examining is how the church in the south should respond to its looming disestablishment. How much more looming can it get than standing in a Publix in Franklin, Tennessee reading "Forget the Church: Follow Jesus." I picked up the magazine and put it on the conveyor belt alongside the broccoli.

Chandler saw it.

"What's this?"

I replied, "An article I'm interested in reading for my sabbatical about the church."

She picked it up and thumbed to the cover story. Meanwhile, the store clerk began scanning our items.

She read a moment, and then said, "This guy's saying we should ignore you."

"Well," I said, a little concerned that the clerk had just heard her comment, "Not me personally.

"Maybe not you personally, but your people, you know, your kind."

I think I saw the clerk smile at that one, so I ended the conversation. After we got outside, I told Chandler that she had just given me an idea for my first sabbatical blog. "Do you mind me writing about what just happened in there?"

"No, I don't mind...But, Dad, how many people really read your blog?"

When I set out to write about what Douglas John Hall calls the "disestablishment" of the church, I didn't realize I would have my first sabbatical encounter with it in the person of my own daughter. Don't get me (or her) wrong. She loves the church. It is all she has ever known. It has nurtured her faith, showered her with grace, and opened her eyes to the wonders of God. I believe that she sees herself as a disciple of Jesus Christ and wants her life to mirror the love, peace, and joy of his risen life.

But she's also a part of a culture that no longer views the church as all that special. She is able to access volumes of information more quickly than I could have dreamed at her age. Christianity and the church are merely one option among many, and I have no doubt she sees and hears regularly a variety of competing worldviews that challenge her faith. In some ways, she senses that her choice to be a disciple of Jesus Christ is just that - a choice - and one that will soon place her in the minority of her peers, if it hasn't already.

In the article he wrote in Newsweek, Andrew Sullivan argues that the church, if it is to make it in a world where it is not in a position of power, will have to give up its infatuation with politics of both the right and the left and embrace once again the teachings of Jesus. As he puts it, "Christianity has been destroyed by politics, priests, and get-rich evangelists. Ignore them, and embrace him." It seems a fairly simple argument. It is certainly not new. I don't agree with everything he writes; in fact, I think he has engaged in some sensationalism and over-simplification himself.

But the era in which we live does seem to call for a fresh look at what it might mean to be a faithful church in a time when major newsmagazines can boast a cover during Holy Week that says, "Forget the Church."

I'm excited to be given the gift of time to explore these questions. Chandler's gift to me was one she offers with some regularity - honesty. I pray I will discover words to say and ideas to share with her and with the church in the days to come that will honor that honesty.

In the meantime I can still send her to her room...

Conversations about the Future

2011-07-12T11:33:00.001-05:00

Grace and peace.

I have been thinking a lot lately about God's plan. I'm sure it has something to do with the preparations for Sunday's sermon on predestination. But as you recall, predestination is all about God's plan for the End, when God will be all in all, and the creation is redeemed, and we are restored to what we were always intended to be. The plan I'm thinking about is different from that, more earth-bound and time-bound, but no less significant.

I'm thinking about God's plan for this congregation. We are celebrating 200 years of ministry in Franklin, and Presbyterianism in the United States (and the colonies before that), is even older. We have rightly spent a good deal of our time celebrating that heritage. But Presbyterians can never settle for longing looks to the past - our eyes are ever forward, discerning what God desires for this church that is "reformed and always being reformed." In congregational gatherings, small group settings, and one-on-one conversations, I hear certain themes emerging -

1. A deep commitment to hands-on mission, local and global - the days are gone when Presbyterians were content to write a check and let hired mission workers do all the work and report back once a year. More and more people in this congregation are joining together in small mission groups to listen for God's compassionate call to serve. Water systems and relationship-building in Haiti and Guatemala, disaster relief in New Orleans, youth mission in Asheville and Cherokee, Meals on Wheels, and Graceworks Christmas Store are just a few examples of the ways we are already engaged in hands-on mission. The Mission Committee dreams of increasing these opportunities and fully funding them so that the people called to mission work do not have to spend their own money to do it.

2. A firm resolve to worship in the Reformed tradition that calls forth the gifts of all our people - the days are past when worship centered on the pastor and the choir, and the congregation were passive observers. We are blessed by the full participation of the congregation in a rich liturgy and vibrant singing. We are a church that loves traditional worship, but we are not afraid to creatively utilize all the worshipping arts within that tradition. Many sense God's call to utilize the gifts of children and youth, the worship expressions from other cultures, and a greater awareness of the richness and depth of the Reformed tradition. With Sarah Litton's addition to the worship staff, and the continued excellence that Julia McGirt brings, we are positioned to answer God's call in Reformed worship.

3. A renewed sense of the importance of intergenerational bonds - no more are the days when the church operated in age-defined enclaves, never interacting in meaningful ways. In the educational, mission, and worship ministries of this church it is becoming more and more evident that the best learning and the strongest sense of growth and fellowship is happening when people of all ages engage with one another. Whether it is in an all-age Sunday school experience, where ninety-four year olds swap stories of faith with four year olds; or the confirmation program's Covenant Partner ministry, where life-long friends are made between sixth graders and their adult partners; or in the youth ministry Wednesday Night Live Small groups where adult leaders share their journey weekly with a small group of youth; or in the significant growth that occurs in mission side-by-side between young, middle, and older adults; God's Spirit works among us most powerfully when we are together across lines of age.

These are just some of the themes that I hear in my conversations around this community. What do you hear? What decisions do we need to make in order to realize the big dreams we believe God has for our future? Is it time to retire our mortgage (right now we spend $140,000 a year on the mortgage, 14% of our congregational budget)? What would our congregation's ministries be like if we were free of that debt? What are the areas in our life that you see needing attention? Do you have ideas for how we can get there?

These are the questions in the air at 101 Legends Club Lane. We have a rich history. Generations before us made great sacrifices in faith in order to make our ministry here possible. What is the call of our generation? How can we assure that Christ's mission in this place will be strong and fruitful for our children and grandchildren, and the people who will come here long after we are gone?

Look for opportunities this fall to gather and talk about these and other questions. But in the meantime, why not start the conversation now? Write me and let me know what you think. Post on the congregation's Facebook page. Comment on my blog. God's will is known among us when we join our voices together.

Peace,
Pastor Chris

Anniversary

2011-07-07T17:04:00.004-05:00

Tomorrow, July 8, Kim and I celebrate 22 years of marriage. True to form, while most husbands on such an occasion would reach for Hallmark cards and chocolate, I turn to apocalyptic theology.

The writers of some of the earliest Christian literature wrote out of a sense that God was on the verge of creating a new day, and that the world as they knew it was a dim reflection of the world to come, like looking in a darkened mirror. Paul wrote poetically about the fact that everything - all our vaunted knowledge, all our gifts, all our possessions - all was passing away. All that is partial gives way to the complete. "Now I know only in part," he wrote. "Then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known...And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three - and the greatest of these is love."

I believe that all experiences of love in this world are a foretaste of that new day when God will be all in all, including the experience of love between husband and wife, parents and children, among friends, and in the covenant bonds of the community of faith.

God is at work in our loving, sharing something of the Divine mystery and inviting us to grow in love. So I hope you will cherish the opportunity to love, no matter the setting, and never take it for granted. Love is the reason we exist, and it will remain when all else is past.

I am thinking about all these things as our anniversary approaches, but mostly I think of Kim. She is a blessing to me in every way.

LOVE is enough: though the World be a-waning,
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover
The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,
Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,
And this day draw a veil over all deeds pass'd over,
Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;
The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter
These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover. - Thomas Lux

Cicada Summer

2011-06-01T12:08:00.008-05:00

It's funny how cicadas grow on you.

They sit in the ground a long time, gestating in the heart of the earth for thirteen years - millions of them. When the long nap is over and the time is right, they emerge. That's what the entomologists call it - an "emergence." It is a fitting word. They come out of the ground, and what once was but a faint memory - or no memory at all if you are a child - now stakes its brief claim on the earth.

It is a brief sojourn - a few short weeks - and the cicadas seem to know it. Perhaps recognizing brevity of days, they spend them singing and mating; mostly singing though, from the sound of it.

Their bulky bodies seem out of proportion for flying, making them easy prey for birds, certain rodents, and windshields. Even so, they cast clumsiness and vulnerability to the wind, flying in their wobbly way hither and yon, from tree to tree, singing as they go.

I sit out on the deck on a mild late spring afternoon, barely noticing the sun and the clouds, lost in my own mind. The worries are always the same, only the days change - worry about my children and how they will make it in a world that seems increasingly treacherous; anxiety about the vulnerability that seems always at the doorstep as unemployment levels remain too high, wars proliferate, and many politicians seem oblivious; concern about so many in our congregation who bravely face new struggles in their lives. These worries compete with the usual bills to pay, errands to run, appointments to keep - a frenetic pace that threatens at times to consume the spirit.

Somewhere in the litany of troubles, I notice a sound. It has been there all along, but I hear it as if for the first time. Cicadas, thousands of them, singing their songs. It seems this is what they were put on the earth to do, among other things. They don't get long to do it, so their singing seems especially urgent. It is a kind of invitation.

Maybe I should accept it. After all, I have been put here for a purpose: to glorify God and enjoy God forever. My time - our time - is so very short. Why not throw clumsiness and vulnerability to the wind and sing the song we were meant to sing?

Soon enough the last cicada will sing its song, and the earth will grow quiet. Old noises will re-emerge, the usual voices vying for our frayed attention. I will be 57 the next time the cicadas sing, the Lord willing. Between now and then, I pray our songs might emerge as worthy substitutes, filling the air of this fragile, vulnerable, beloved earth with hope and joy.

Presbyterians and Ordination

2011-05-11T10:31:00.000-05:00

Reader be warned - the road ahead contains lots of Presby-speak (lingo only a Presbyterian could love). Proceed at your own risk...of utter boredom.

The Presbyterians are in the national and local headlines this morning. I want to share this space to say why I am happy about the recent decisions of the church and believe it heralds a new day of peace, unity, and purity.

Presbyterians, from the beginning, have been and are a contentious lot. Much of the contention swirls around the issue of ordination.

For those who may not know, Presbyterians ordain three different officers as leaders in the denomination - Ministers of Word and Sacrament, Elders, and Deacons. Congregations call, train, and ordain elders and deacons to be spiritual leaders, and presbyteries (regional governing bodies) ordain Ministers of Word and Sacrament.

In the earliest days of Presbyterianism, both in its Continental (England, Scotland, and Geneva) and American versions, huge fights broke out about who may or may not be ordained. At various points in our history you would not be allowed to be ordained if you were a woman, a freed slave, divorced, a dancer, or a drinker of spirits (Holy or otherwise). Churches split, new denominations formed, and families divided over these questions. At times, it seemed the Presbyterian Church would not survive its increasing diversity in this diverse land.

Beginning in the late 1970's, the fight moved to the question of homosexuality; namely, should homosexual persons who were in committed, monogamous relationships be ordained if a local congregation or presbytery chose to do so. The fighting over the question was intense. The church remained divided right down the middle. Affinity groups were formed on both sides of the issue, and they lobbied the General Assembly (the national governing body) and the presbyteries relentlessly.

In 1996, the General Assembly voted to add a provision to the Book of Order, called "Amendment B", which reads:

“Those who are called to office in the church are to lead a life in obedience to Scripture and in conformity to the historic confessional standards of the church. Among these standards is the requirement to live either in fidelity within the covenant of marriage between a man and a woman (W-4.9001), or chastity in singleness. Persons refusing to repent of any self-acknowledged practice which the confessions call sin shall not be ordained and/or installed as deacons, elders or ministers of the Word and Sacrament.”

The effect of this amendment was to lift one element of a person's life above all others in considering whether to ordain him or her. It in essence told all presbyteries and congregations that if they had a candidate for ordination who was a deeply committed follower of Jesus Christ, a strong member of the church, and faithful in his or her relationship with a partner, they could not ordain such a person simply because of her or his sexuality.

The Presbyterian Church (USA) has lived with this amendment for the last fifteen years, and the results have been dismal. Because the amendment was placed upon a church that was split down the middle on the question, the church has fought bitterly about the question every time it gathered. At times it has felt like Presbyterians could talk about nothing else. The amendment has damaged the life of the church, and it has not brought about peace, unity, or purity.

At the General Assembly meeting in 2010, a new amendment was approved and sent out to the 173 presbyteries for ratification. It is called "Amendment 10-A" and it reads:

“Standards for ordained service reflect the church’s desire to submit joyfully to the Lordship of Jesus Christ in all aspects of life (G-1.0000). The governing body responsible for ordination and/or installation (G.14.0240; G-14.0450) shall examine each candidate’s calling, gifts, preparation, and suitability for the responsibilities of office. The examination shall include, but not be limited to, a determination of the candidate’s ability and commitment to fulfill all requirements as expressed in the constitutional questions for ordination and installation (W-4.4003). Governing bodies shall be guided by Scripture and the confessions in applying standards to individual candidates.”

What this new amendment does is reassert the old Presbyterian tradition of honoring the conscience, making room for the Spirit, and allowing local governing bodies the leeway to examine candidates for ordination on a case by case basis. It does not say that sessions and presbyteries MUST ordain gay ministers, elders, and deacons; it says they MAY ordain gay ministers, elders, and deacons.

In other words, if a session is examining a candidate for elder, they may consider all aspects of her or his life and faith, including his or her sexual life, and after taking all things into consideration make a judgment about whether or not that person is "submitting joyfully to Jesus Christ in all aspects of life." It is not a lessening of standards, but a toughening and broadening of them.

Most importantly, it recognizes that the group most in a position to examine a person's life and faith and judge his or her suitability for ordination is the body that is examining him or her, the body that knows him or her.

It seems that this amendment has captured the imagination of the entire church and is being widely embraced as a way forward. To date, nineteen presbyteries that previously voted no on this question have changed their votes to yes, among them South Alabama, North Alabama, Arkansas, and Middle Tennessee. As of last night, 88 of the 173 presbyteries have voted yes, which is enough to ratify the amendment. That's why you are seeing the newspaper headlines today. The voting will conclude on July 10, at which time the new amendment will take effect.

One of the reasons I am a Presbyterian, and one of the main reasons I pastor the particular church I do, is because I think the mark of a healthy church is the willingness to talk about important issues in a spirit of unity. Anyone who knows me or First Presbyterian, Franklin, will know that whenever we get ten people in a room, there are at least twelve different opinions. But these opinions are always thoughtful, engaging, and, best of all, shared in a spirit of love and unity. The give and take we share, for example, at Wednesday Night Live, is evidence of what the church can look like when it is debating tough questions in a healthy way.

I know that there will be many in this congregation who will disagree with me about the value of this amendment. I will look forward to the conversations I will have with them (as well as with those who agree) in days to come. But I have no doubt that our congregation will continue to embody the best of the Reformed Tradition - honest engagement, thoughtful reflection, and a commitment to unity in the bond of faith.

I am also filled with joy that there will never again be a person, here or elsewhere in the Presbyterian Church (USA) who will automatically have the door to leadership closed because of their sexuality. Instead they will be given the chance to share their faith in Jesus Christ and the fullness of their lives, and be judged on the whole, and not the part.

The distinctive Presbyterian dance throughout our history has been the dance of trying to preserve peace, unity, and purity in the way we follow Jesus Christ. It is a tricky dance, and it is never perfect. However, this morning I am filled with joy and hope that we have taken an important step.

O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable are God's judgments
and how inscrutable God's ways!
For from God
and through God
and to God are all things.
To God be glory in the church
and in Christ Jesus
to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

A Week Called Holy

2011-04-18T19:44:00.003-05:00

Grace to you, and peace, in the name of Christ our Lord.

Worship ended on Sunday with a quiet choral response that struck a minor key, a reminder to us that the week we are entering as we leave the sanctuary on Sunday morning is one that will move us inexorably toward the cross.

The service certainly did not begin in a minor key. The children of the church made their way into the sanctuary waving palm branches and singing "King of Kings." Their joy and enthusiasm was contagious, and the entire congregation stood to sing "All Glory, Laud, and Honor." We welcomed this day, the beginning of Holy Week, by remembering that Jesus rides into Jerusalem as a different kind of king. His peaceful kingdom is enough to make us take up palms and sing, right in the middle of the shaking city, even with the cross right around the corner.

Thanks to the peal ringers, the children, the choirs, and all the people who helped make Sunday a wondrous day of worship.

Now we are in the middle of this week called "holy." Each day brings us closer to the cross. We will gather in Wilson Hall on Thursday evening for a simple meal around the tables. Maundy Thursday worship will begin there, and then move to the sanctuary for the Lord's Supper. We will come together again on Good Friday for a service of Tenebrae. As the sanctuary is gradually darkened, we will listen to the old story of the cross and hear, through the pain, good news.

We are excited to join again for the third year with our sister church, Historic Franklin Presbyterian, for Easter Sunrise worship, followed by breakfast. Our regular worship services will occur Easter morning as we celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord.

We were sent out this Sunday in the shadow of the cross, a sign of God's love poured out in Christ. My prayer for each of you is that you would experience the presence of Christ in the midst of this Holy Week, and that his presence will bring you a greater awareness of God's love, and deep resurrection joy.

Peace,
Pastor Chris

Hosanna

2011-04-15T17:24:00.004-05:00

We will shout it this Sunday, most of us - Hosanna! - which means, "Save us." It is the cry of a people who know they are at the end of their ability to save themselves, a full-throated acknowledgement that we, all of us, live by grace and walk by a light that is not our own.

We will sing it this Sunday - Ride On, Ride On, in Majesty - while we imagine Jesus astride not one, but two animals. A bit of over-the-top, funny, beautiful hyperbole; Matthew's way of saying Jesus is a different kind of king - both victorious and humble - the only kind of king who can truly save.

We will wave them this Sunday - palm branches - with the kind of muted fervor that only Presbyterians can pull off, but fervor nonetheless. These branches mean victory, and we wave them high alongside our prayers that this humble king unlike any other will once again ride into our midst and save us.

Hosanna!

Incarnation and French Fries

2011-04-07T08:01:00.008-05:00

It has been a long winter.

There's something about the cold weather, the mostly-cloudy days, and the early darkness that causes me to want to put on my robe, turn on the television (or pick up a book), and...eat. Really, now, there's nothing that dulls the sharp edges of a bitterly cold day than a big plate (or two) of comfort food, which in my case means fried food. And the effects of the long, cold winter are readily evident in my tighter clothes and the gradual up-tick of the scales.

There are many aspects of my southern heritage I am proud to claim, but my eating habits are not among them. For many in the south, food is just not food unless it has been thrown in a frying pan. The crispy glaze of friend chicken, chicken fingers, French fries, fried okra, and any other assortment of fried foods you can imagine remain a significant weakness for me. I wonder who had the idea of taking that relatively-healthy staple of Thanksgiving - the turkey - and throwing it into a deep fryer? Whoever it was, thank you. That's the only way I can eat it.

I come from a culture about which the great southern writer Roy Blount, Jr. wrote, "The way folks were meant to eat is the way my family ate when I was growing up in Georgia. We ate till we got tired. Then we went 'Whoo!' and leaned back and wholeheartedly expressed how much we regretted that we couldn't summon up the strength, right then, to eat some more." Yes, that was my upbringing, and those are my people, and in many ways I wouldn't trade it for anything.

But there comes a time to face facts. The way we eat is killing us. Southern states have higher rates of obesity, high blood pressure, Type 2 diabetes, heart disease, and a whole range of other almost completely preventable diseases, all of which can be traced to the way we eat.

The way I eat.

I believe this is a deeply spiritual issue. Christianity is at its root an incarnational faith. We believe "the Word became flesh and lived among us." This enfleshment of the Word is God's eternal affirmation of bodily existence. The world is not to be run from, but engaged; our bodies are a gift from God, a means through which we live, and love, and serve God and others. We were not intended to treat our bodies with disdain, to knowingly harm our bodies through indulgence, but rather to recognize them and treat them as wondrous gifts.

Every time I intentionally eat more fruits and vegetables and limit processed junk food, I feel better in numerous ways almost immediately. The weeks that I take the time to run at least four days I can tell a significant difference. Why would something that makes me feel good and helps me have more energy to be present to my family and friends and the congregation I love and serve be so hard for me to do? That is the real question, I think, and one for which I don't have an easy answer. I would love for those of you who share my struggles with discipline in eating and exercise to post how you deal with it and maybe some strategies for success. But at the end the day, I return to what I think is the heart of the matter.

This is a spiritual issue. In my work as a pastor, I spend a lot of time reflecting on the ways Christ is present in the world, right in the middle of the mess. I believe Christ is at work in the middle of this mess as well, in my failures as well as my successes, revealing his glory, shining his light, helping me to see.

So this week I began training in earnest for the San Francisco Half Marathon. I ran this last year and had a great time, followed by a delightful visit with my two brothers who live there. This year the whole family is going with me, and we're going to spend a week out there. My friend Clarke Oldham is flying out to run the race as well, and he is always a good motivator for me.

I have re-committed to eating a diet that will help me succeed in my training - as Michael Pollan writes in "Food Rules" - I'm going to try and "eat food, mostly plants, not too much."

I'm not going to make big predictions or set lofty goals - I'm just going to trust God's grace, put one foot in front of the other, make good daily choices, not obsess when I have a set-back, and did I mention trust God's grace? When it is said and done, we all of us live by grace in every aspects of our lives, including our health.

"Oh to grace how great a debtor, daily I'm constrained to be;
Let that grace now, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee."

It has been a long winter. But spring, at long last, is here.

The Call of God, Near and Far

2011-03-20T12:49:00.005-05:00

Grace to you, and peace, in the name of Jesus Christ.

Abraham and Sarah hear the voice of God and go, trusting that the God who speaks is trustworthy. The call of God and our faithful response is the essence of faith. I am filled with joy each time I think of all the ways this congregation discerns the call in our own time, and follows in faith.

It was hard not to think about the most recent example from within our church of this call and response during the commissioning service for the Living Waters for the World mission trip to Haiti. A group of ten members of our church will lead Vacation Bible School and install a clean water filtration system in that decimated country over the next ten days. I hope you will take time in the next ten days to be in prayer for all the trip participants - Chandler Joiner, Kim Joiner, Kris McCain, Cathy McCall, Matthew McCall, Jessica Queen, Alex Quintana, Sharon Roumen, John Wade, and Tom Wilhoite.

We also are coming to the end of another season of Room in the Inn. Once again we were able to provide a warm bed and great food for our guests, but even more importantly we were able to show them hospitality around the tables in Wilson Hall, sharing in conversation. Thanks to Sue Banner and the dozens of volunteers who make this ministry possible.

Over the next several weeks of spring and on into the summer we will be hosting Presbyterian Disaster Assistance work teams who are coming to the area to do flood relief work. We are providing food, beds, and hospitality as they work in the Nashville and Williamson County area. I hope you will take time to get to know our guests and thank them for their service to our community.

These are just a few of the many ways our congregation engages in and helps facilitate the mission of God locally and globally. The call of Abraham and Sarah still echoes in our own time - trust in the promise of God, and go into the world, blessed to be a blessing.

Lent Reflections

2011-03-15T07:48:00.002-05:00

The Lenten season this year occurs while the world prays for the people of Japan. The earthquake and the devastating tsunami that followed have left large swaths of the country obliterated, and the death toll continues to rise. In the midst of a very bad situation, the leaking of radiation from a damaged nuclear power plant remains a real threat. Our congregation joins with the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) and with Christians and other persons of faith around the world in praying for for the people of Japan, for those who grieve loss of life, for those made homeless, and for those hungry and alone. Mindful of the prayer we often pray in worship, that "in all the things for which we pray, give us the will to bring them about," I encourage you to visit www.pcusa.org/news/2011/3/11/pcusa-framing-response-japan-earthquake-tsunami/. There you will find the latest news about our Presbyterian mission co-workers in Japan and the opportunity to give through Presbyterian Disaster Assistance.

Even as we pray for Japan, we remember that the the people of Haiti still suffer tremendously from the earthquake that wiped out much of their already weak infrastructure, leaving tens of thousands homeless. A group of mission co-workers from our congregation are answering the call of God to be with the people in Haiti. The group will install a water purification system through Living Waters for the World and lead Vacation Bible School March 22-April 1. Please be in prayer for the team - Kris McCain (team leader), Chandler Joiner, Kim Joiner, Cathy McCall, Matthew McCall, Jessica Queen, Alex Quintana, Sharon Roumen, John Wade, and Tom Wilhoite.

Sunday's worship included the Baptism of Elic Ball at 8:30, the celebration of the Lord's Supper in both services, and the Annual Meeting of the congregation. On such a full Sunday the signs of God's grace were as abundant as the water, bread, and wine. The bell choir prelude was an advanced arrangement the choir learned while at the Montreat Music and Worship Conference last summer, and when they were done I was grateful for their willingness to take on such a beautiful piece of music. The choral arrangement of "Amazing Grace," accompanied by the flute, helped us all to hear that hymn as if for the first time, taking in new experiences of grace in the hearing. As I was preaching on the Garden of Eden, it was easy to see that each time we hear the beauty of worship music, engage in intimate prayer, and listen for the Word of God, we catch a glimpse of that Garden and a foretaste of the Kingdom to come.

Sunday ended with "40 Days and 40 Nights," a gathering of over 60 people to hear a presentation on the congregational Lent book, "Soulfeast," by Marjorie Thompson, and to share memories and dreams concerning our congregation in its bicentennial year. You will see elsewhere a brief report on some of the ideas shared during the event, but in this space I want to thank the Vision Team - Bill Bastl, Bill Carver, Lashlee Garafola, Phil Leftwich, Kathy Morris, and Anne Parsons. Each of them contributed to the success of the evening. One participant emailed me the following - "I was inspired, encouraged, and just plain had fun Sunday night. It made me feel included, and sparked my imagination about the future of the church. Participating in the exercises, listening, and being inspired by others was just wonderful." We will gather again during Lent. Be sure to watch this space for the day and time.

It is on Sundays like last Sunday when I come to the end of the day thankful to God for a congregation filled with so many and diverse gifts. Whether it is in mission work, sacramental worship, music, education, or discernment of our future, God is definitely at work among us. Thanks be to God.

Peace,
Pastor Chris

Rob Bell and the "Fellowship"

2011-03-08T12:09:00.004-06:00

Rob Bell, a provocative - and popular - evangelical pastor with a large following among younger adults, has created some heated conversation among evangelicals with his upcoming book, "Love Wins: A Book about Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived." While I have not yet read Bell's book, the reaction he is getting from supporters and detractors within evangelicalism suggests that many of the topics he considers are challenging some long-held doctrines in the largely conservative movement.

However, I'm less concerned with Bell's arguments than with the kinds of responses he is receiving. As reported in the New York Times, leading evangelical John Piper, of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis wrote, rather cryptically, "Farewell, John Bell." Albert Mohler, Jr., President of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, said that a promotional video put out by Bell asking if it can be true that Mahatma Gandhi, a non-Christian, is burning in hell, was the "sad equivalent of a theological striptease."

No matter what you think of Bell's arguments (and I look forward to reading them for myself), the dismissive responses of some of his critics points to a particularly troubling way of being church. This way is marked by a careful drawing of the lines that constitute "orthodoxy," lines that, once drawn, serve to define who is or is not a "true believer." Those whose views do not fit within the lines are no longer welcome at the table.

There is a place for orthodoxy. A community of faith is by definition a community that shares certain common beliefs and commitments. The question for me is whether those lines are drawn widely or narrowly, and whether, once drawn, they are forever closed to reform. I belong to a tradition that lives by the motto "Reformed and always being reformed according to the Word of God," a motto which suggests at least an openness to the work of the Spirit in helping us interpret God's Word for our own time, even if this means challenging human constructions of "orthodoxy." We do continue to believe, after all, that God is bigger than human thoughts can conceive.

Which is why it is troubling to see a group right now in the Presbyterian Church USA (my denomination), calling for consideration of presbyteries (regional groupings of congregations) created or re-organized to reflect persons of "like minds." In other words, presbyteries would be organized not by geography, but by certain shared views. There would be, according to their vision it seems, "liberal" presbyteries and "conservative" presbyteries. We could focus on mission, they say, because we would stop spending all our time disagreeing about things like theology and social issues. We would get along because we would all be of "like mind." They call themselves, ironically enough, "The Fellowship."

I can't think of a more horrendous vision for the church of Jesus Christ or one more antithetical to the clear call passages like 1 Corinthians 12-13. At a time when our culture is polarized more and more along lines of politics and ideology, the mainline church in North America provides a much needed witness to the power of unity-in-diversity. To give in to a hopelessness that suggests it is not possible for Christians to live and work together in unity, despite our differences, is to me an affront to Christ.

Rob Bell is learning the hard way what can happen when the lines are drawn hard and fast. If things go badly for him in his own denomination, I invite him to consider the Presbyterians. We still allow for a healthy give and take. We still value different opinions. We still believe God's Spirit can reform us. We still believe the eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you."

At least for now...

Psalms and Dreams

2011-03-01T11:19:00.004-06:00

Grace to you, and peace, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

What a joy it was to be surrounded by the Psalms last Sunday. The Psalter was and is not only the hymnbook of the Hebrew people, but a deep well of liturgy and devotion for us today. The Psalms express the full range of human emotion before God - awe and wonder, despair and pain, resilient hope and bracing honesty. In the psalms we can soar into the heavens - "O LORD, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens" - or descend into the pit - "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?" They lay out for us the living memory of God's graciousness in the past -"I will call to mind the deeds of the LORD; I will remember your wonders of old" - and the full hope of God's coming future - "May the LORD give you increase, both you and your children. May you be blessed by the LORD, who made heaven and earth."

The joy of the day was only magnified by the presence of the combined adult choirs and the brass ensemble for both services, who were able to capture all the emotions conveyed by the psalms and direct them in worship to God. Thanks to all whose leadership inspires our worship.

We remembered on Sunday how important the psalms are to the Reformed/Presbyterian tradition. In the earliest days of the Reformation, the psalms were the central expression of worship, and they remain important in our self-identity. They help us remember the past, even as they point us toward God's future.

I hope those of you who are members and regular guests in our worship are making plans to be with us on March 13 at 6:00 p.m. for the first of several events throughout 2011 helping us commemorate our bicentennial as a congregation. It will be a time of hearing about the book the congregation is invited to read for Lent, "SoulFeast," by Marjorie Thompson, as well as sharing in smaller groups. In addition, we will spend a portion of the time remembering and taking note of our rich history and dreaming together about our future. The memories and dreams gleaned from this and future gatherings will help the session as it evaluates our mission statement and program focus as we anticipate the next decade of ministry in this place.

It would be easy for a congregation like ours - blessed with abundant resources, continued growth, and vibrant worship and programs - to rest on the success previous generations achieved. In doing so, we are tempted to forget that the church's traditions are living traditions, forged out of each generation's discernment of God's call. It remains the task of each generation of faith to listen for God's call afresh. As Presbyterians, we believe that call is most clearly articulated when all voices have a place at the table; God's voice is heard as we listen to each other's memories and dreams. I pray your voice will be heard at the table on March 13.

Like the psalmist, we gather strength from our rich history and tradition even as we listen together for God's call to the future, captured most profoundly in the 23rd Psalm - "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

Flower Power

2011-02-22T15:49:00.005-06:00

Grace to you, and peace, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

I make my way into a hospital room, or an assisted living apartment, or a hospice bedside, and more and more frequently I find a vase filled with beautiful flowers. During these recently cold days, and in situations often filled with the chill of sickness or death, sitting in the midst of the room is this brightness. Inevitably someone will say something to the effect of, "The nicest person from the church came by and brought me these flowers and stayed and visited. It made my day. Aren't they beautiful?"

They are beautiful, almost as beautiful as the folks who lovingly take apart the Sunday morning arrangements, rearrange them in smaller vases, and take them out to those who could not be a part of the worship, but who are very much a part of the community. There is such beauty in their service, motivated by a deep love for all God's children and a desire to share some small part of the beauty of the worship experience with others. The flowers may only last a while, but the love and care that they represent, and the God whose glory is reflected in the beauty of the rose, is eternal. Thank you to those who faithfully create the stunning arrangements each week that lift our hearts to God, and thank you to those who come every Monday to spread the power and unity of that worship to other members of our community.

I thought of our flower ministry as I went out with two of our elders to share communion with some of our members who are not able to be in worship. I want to thank the entire session for taking seriously the responsibility of distributing communion both within and outside the sanctuary each month. As we share in breaking bread and pouring the cup, no matter the setting, we are giving witness to the love of God in Jesus Christ, and expressing the unity of the church across time and space. We are walking in the light of the coming Kingdom of heaven.

We have been living with the Sermon on the Mount in worship now for several weeks. I always come away from the encounter challenged by the words of Christ, who bids us to "be perfect (complete, whole), even as your Father in heaven is perfect." The context of this command is, of course, his admonition to love our enemies - but the larger context is the Sermon as a whole, where he invites us to see the fullness of the kingdom of heaven, which, even though it has not fully arrived, sheds its light in our time. We can live by its coming light even now. Even now, we can turn the other cheek, walk the second mile, love our enemies, and thus fulfill the intention of the law. When we do, we experience the wholeness (perfection) that is God's gift.

I thought the canticle on Sunday captured this sense of the Sermon on the Mount perfectly, as the MAP 410 Choir (Grades 4-6) sang "Amazing Grace" while the Chancel and Chapel Adult Choirs sang "O For A Thousand Tongues to Sing." This "Quod Libet" combines voices, tunes, and texts in a way that creates both dissonance and, hopefully out of the dissonance, a new sound and a new understanding. The Sermon on the Mount, I think it is safe to say, creates no small amount of dissonance, and yet for those who live by grace, it holds a transformative possibility for newness of life in community, and great hope for the world. Continued thanks go out to our extremely gifted singers, musicians, and leaders - from the bell peal and French horn prelude to the hymns and anthems, our worship is always rich feast for both ear and eye.

After dining on such rich fare, we are empowered by our encounter with the kingdom come in Jesus Christ to go out into the world, bearing gifts like flowers, bread and wine, a smile, a kind word, a prayer for healing, a hope for peace. We are able, as the communion liturgy says, to "go out into the world and be the Body of Christ."

At 11:00, as Madelyn Grace Stivers blinked away baptismal waters and gazed out in infant wonder at the font, the crowd of children on the front row straining to see and remember, and a beaming congregation freshly awed at the miracle of God's grace - her middle name seemed most appropriate. After all, it is our name as well.

Peace,
Pastor Chris

Toomer's Corner and the Rule of Love

2011-02-17T13:53:00.004-06:00

I suppose it cannot be a coincidence that the week I am planning a sermon on Matthew 5:38-48 I get an email from my brother Ryan - an Auburn fan currently living and teaching in Boston - with the heading, "Ahh, Bama." Contained in the email was a link to an article about an Alabama fan who, in a fit of (probably drunken) rage after being defeated in the Iron Bowl, poisoned the oak trees at Toomer's Corner in Auburn. You would have to be from Alabama to fully appreciate the significance Auburn fans place on Toomer's Corner and on the 130-year-old oak trees that are reverentially rolled with toilet paper every time Auburn wins a football game. It is as close to holy ground as you can get as an Auburn fan. Their football temple was defaced, a 21st century desolating sacrilege.

Well, the guy's been caught. Turns out he called a sports talk radio show and announced he had poisoned the trees, capping it off with a hearty "Roll D*** Tide!" I promise I'm not making any of this up.

It didn't take Auburn officials long to test the soil around the trees and discover that they had received a lethal dose of poison and probably would not survive. And it took even less time to run down "Al from Dadeville," and arrest him. Now he's got a $50,000 bond and a mug shot. If I were him, I would not go back to Dadeville. In fact, I would consider leaving the state as quickly as possible. Already there are people phoning in threats against his person and his family. Again, not making it up.

Full disclosure - I am an Alabama fan through and through. But this is embarrassing, and sick, and really, really sad.

It also shines a light on the ways we - all of us - form unhealthy attachments. It is easy to laugh at the absurdity and tragedy of this story and forget that we too can become so attached to things like political parties, or ideologies, or other people, or various traditions that we lose perspective. A quick scan of the news reveals an entire society that feels as if it is divided into camps of much more consequence than the Tide versus the Tigers.

Into this arena comes a word that invites us beyond these attachments - "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..." It is an invitation to so radically alter our orientation in the world that we no longer claim our primary identity in these attachments, but instead locate our being in a God who calls us beyond retaliation into a world of peace and reconciliation.

The world needs such a witness from us because, seriously, I'm not making this stuff up.

Grace to You, and Peace

2011-02-15T10:06:00.003-06:00

What happens when the Kingdom of Heaven draws near in Jesus Christ? This question framed our time together last Sunday, as we heard a text from Matthew where Jesus describes the contours of life in the age to come and invites his followers to live by its dawning light. We moved from there to the Table of the Lord, where we saw a sign of the Kingdom enacted in our own time as bread was broken and wine poured. "Whenever you eat of this bread and drink of this cup, you proclaim the saving death of our risen Lord until he comes again." These words were echoed by the beautiful choral piece, "In Remembrance of Me." One of the lines from that anthem captured the spirit of the day perfectly - "In remembrance of me, pray for the time when God's own will is done."

Living together in community as a congregation of the Lord Jesus Christ, we have so many opportunities to see the ways in which the Kingdom draws near as God's own will is done. We explore God's will and ways through engagement with the Scripture in Sunday school or in a variety of Bible studies; we experience the warmth and welcome of God's grace through hospitality around a common meal on Wednesday nights; we share our bread and our lives with others through our various mission endeavors; we recognize God's will and God's call for all God's children through ministries of education and nurture of children, youth, and adults of all ages. There is no shortage of ways to be encountered by God's work both inside the walls of this church and out in the world. I give thanks to God daily for the blessing of working among you in discovering and living into God's coming Kingdom.

Not long ago, I was talking with someone who is not a part of our church, but was asking about us. I was describing the congregation to him, when he suddenly stopped me and said, "Oh, are you part of THAT Presbyterian Church?"

I responded, "I'm not sure which one you are thinking of."

He said, "You know, the one that's always in the news. You guys have some interesting characters in that denomination."

I could tell he had lost all interest in the church based on its denominational affiliation, so we quickly ended the conversation. But I was left with both a troubling, and a hopeful, thought. I was troubled that someone - based on nothing more than media images that can only scratch the surface of any church, much less an entire denomination - would write off a local congregation without at least seeing for himself.

I was also hopeful, though. I don't know about you, but I am glad to be part of a church and a denomination that has some "interesting characters." I think that one of the gifts of God to the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) is its diversity, a diversity that is displayed within our own congregation as well. It is a gift because it forces us to acknowledge that when it comes to things of God, no one of us has a corner on the whole truth, and we are stronger when we gather as one body, around one table, and share all the diverse gifts we bring.

It should have been pretty obvious after last Sunday that Jesus himself was quite a character - after all, he turned the common interpretation of the Jewish law on its head and dared his followers to follow him onto a path that would make them all look like odd characters.

But such is the nature of the Kingdom that draws near in him - its as if, to quote Mumford and Sons, we've all, "come out of [our] caves, walking on [our] hands, and see the world hanging upside down."

Snow Fatigue

2011-02-09T16:11:00.003-06:00

It didn't take long for everyone to grow weary of the snow. In the south, the first snow is greeted as an almost sacred event, complete with Advent-like waiting, rituals (ice cube in the toilet, pajamas worn backwards, regional variations of snow songs and snow dances), meditative practices (sitting next to the phone or in front of the television, eyes closed, praying for a herald's voice announcing the close of school), and, after long anticipation, the holy day itself, the first falling flakes sending everyone into praise.

I think we love it so much because it is, at least in these parts, a rare thing to behold. But this year familiarity has bred contempt. And I would say that most of us regard this latest blast of snow with a good deal of contempt. Schools have already been out for eight days this winter, bread and milk are once again leaving the grocery shelves, and southerners are displaying their complete inability to safely navigate the slippery roads. The snowflakes that only a couple of months ago brought squeals of joy now bring cries of protest.

We welcome the first snow and gladly receive its gifts. After that, the gifts begin to lose their luster until, by now, we see it as less gift and more curse.

But it remains true that if I go outside tonight and look out on this blanketed landscape, I will be greeted by a silent field of white, no less beautiful in the fourth iteration than the first. The time I can spend with my daughter, free of the constraints of the school day and the relentless march of assignments and projects, will be just as life-giving in February as it was in December. The joy of watching children bundled against the cold taking off down a hillside, screams of joy trailing behind them, is just as luminous today as on that first day.

The gifts are the same. The only thing that keeps me from receiving them with joy and thanksgiving is my own relentless need for the world to conform to the schedule I have set, for the times that belong to God to somehow correspond to the times as I conceive them.

Each day brings its own gifts, and not one day passes that does not contain within it blessings from Almighty God. The only thing that keeps me - keeps us - from seeing them, receiving them, and living into them, is my own ego, my own need to be sovereign.

As I type this, I am looking out the window of my study on another snowy landscape, and already I am worrying about the drive home, grousing about yet another Wednesday night cancellation of my all-important Bible study, angry that I'll have to stop for bread and milk, and thinking about all the work I need to do tomorrow that may not get done if I can't get back over here. And yet, somewhere deep within, another voice is vying for my attention, inviting me to step outside and see beyond the inconvenience, beyond the worry, beyond my ego - and receive the gift of the day, in all its glory.

I hope I can embrace the gift and receive the grace, to heed that voice this snowy night, and tomorrow, and all my days.

Time to get on the road to home - - gifts await. Who knows, maybe we'll put our pajamas on backgrounds, place an ice cube in the toliet, listen for the herald announcing the closing of school, and dance the snow dance deep into the night.

Grace to You, and Peace

2011-02-08T11:37:00.002-06:00

Grace to you, and peace, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Isaiah declares, "Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke. Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?" (Isaiah 58:6-7). On Youth Sunday this past week we heard Ricky Cross, one of our young people, preach a word on this text that helped us think about some rather large questions in light of this prophetic proclamation. Beginning with his reflections on the ways he has experienced our congregation living out this "fast" in missions such as Habitat for Humanity, Katrina relief, and Room in the Inn, he admitted that engaging in these missions does bring to mind the question of why such things happen to people at all. From there, including reflections on his very personal struggle with this question, he affirmed the radical hopefulness of the prophet's message and the community of faith that centers itself on this hope.

Coupled with this outstanding message were the gifts of all our youth in crafting and leading the liturgy, in words and music. From beginning to end, I was filled with joy at the thoughtful and prayerful engagement they displayed, and I came away grateful for such a talented and faith-filled group of young people. Their leadership is a sign among us of the Spirit's work.

The theme of hope is encapsulated in the piece of music that served as the canticle for the day -
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise..."

Thank you to all the adults and youth who helped make this day possible. I hope each of us sensed the power of God to speak to us in the midst of brokenness and were lifted by the hope of Gospel, proclaimed with power by the youth of this church.

The Blake Lectures are coming up at First Presbyterian on March 6. Dr. Christine Yoder, Associate Professor of Old Testament Language, Literature, and Exegesis at Columbia Theological Seminary, will be the lecturer this year. She will preach at both morning services and will present lectures at 1:00 and 2:30 p.m. A lunch will be served at noon, and reservations are required and can be made by calling or emailing the church office. Dr. Yoder is an exceptional teacher and preacher. Please mark your calendars - members and friends of the church - and make plans to attend.

Not long ago, one of the children of the church gave me a full-color booklet that she wrote and illustrated herself entitled "Our God." It is about twenty pages, and I think is a sign that the formative ministries happening here - so in evidence on Sunday morning among the youth - are ways God is, by the Spirit's power, creating and sustaining disciples. In the booklet, the child writes:

"Some people don't believe in God. I do. Hey, if you don't believe in God, he still loves you. It's fun to learn about God. If you want to teach about God, teach your friends, family, sisters, or brothers. God likes when you teach your friends and family about God. It makes God happy and it makes you feel good for making God happy."

Making God happy, engaging in the fast God chooses, living the life of a disciple - thanks be to God for calling us to this wondrous life!

Sermon for My Grandmother, Marie Cosby

2010-04-28T17:02:00.005-05:00

My grandfather asked me to preach for my grandmother's "Service of Witness to the Resurrection" (what we Presbyterians call a funeral), and I could not say no to him. I post the sermon here in her memory. She was a true light, a good reflection of the Light.

Text - Luke 24:13-35

The artist Georgia O’Keefe, who became famous for her paintings of flowers, explained her success by saying, “In a way, nobody sees a flower really, it is so small, we haven’t time – and to see takes time…”

From my grandmother I learned the holiness of time grasped to take in a dogwood in full bloom, read a good book, plant and tend a garden, wait for the wine to reach perfection, can a winter’s worth of vegetables, and love – really love, in action, and not only in words – her family. But mostly I learned the holiness of time at table; I grasped something of God’s Kingdom at my grandmother’s table.

The Table of the Lord is the place where we are invited to rest from our journey and receive the food God offers to sustain us along the way. Whether we’ve been to the sun or the depths of the sea, whether we are in heaven or in Sheol, God meets us right where we are and sets a table for us.

At my grandparent’s house, life centers around the large round table in the kitchen area. I never remember a meal, any meal, in their home that was eaten in front of the television or in a room by myself. It was understood that meals were taken together around the table. In the summertime, when my brother and I visited, everyone in the house got up at 5:30 in the morning to eat breakfast. Woe to you if Marie Cosby had to come and get you up. If she got upset, she was known to speed through all the names of her children and grandchildren until she landed on the one she wanted. “Sharon, Philip, David, Michael, Cathy, Dana!”I would silently pray, “Please don’t stop on my name…” I always tried to be up for breakfast.

We got up that early because my grandfather went to work at Reynolds at that time, and he had to eat breakfast, and the understanding was that if there was a meal, everyone ate it at the same time. So we would get up to eat, and then go back to bed. Grandma saw Papa off with great tenderness and affection, and she always met him at the steps when he returned.

Around that table I learned a great deal about life, politics, love, science, cars, architecture, history, and most importantly, family. It was a centering place, a healing place; it was home. To this day, when we gather at that place, we take our meals at the round table. My grandfather, who is eighty-two now, and still a yellow dog Democrat, and still working with iron in the shop he built, and still one of the smartest people I know, sits at that table and engages us all in lessons about life, politics, love, science, history, and family. After my grandmother suffered a stroke several years ago, she was confined to a wheelchair and could communicate very little. This was hard for me to see, because this was a woman who, well into what many would call older age, water-skiied, belly-danced, and looked great in a two-piece bathing suit. Now her days were spent on the couch.

Except at meal times. When it is time to eat, my grandfather lifts her up off the couch and into her wheelchair, brings her into the kitchen, and sits her at the round table. Even though she has to be assisted, and even though she cannot say much, her eyes and her occasional attempt at a smile tell it all. She is still at table. Now she is able to receive the nurture that she so generously gave. The love of family sustains her, even in the dark night.

It is no surprise to me, nurtured as I was at that wonderful earthly table so many times, to know that when Jesus truly wanted to draw near to those he loved: to speak to them words of life, difficult words of challenge, lessons of love, he did it at table. It was at table where Jesus, on the night he was betrayed by one of his friends, took bread and broke it and gave it to them, and to us, and said, “take, eat, this is my body, broken for you…” and then he poured the cup and said, “Take, drink, this cup is my blood, shed for you.” It was there, at table, that the disciples saw through the torn and fragrant edges of the bread, and felt in the rich and flavorful fragrance of wine, the love of God, the life of God, the grace of God.

I suppose most people know that my grandmother loved to make wine. She saw it as carrying on the legacy of her father, who apparently underwent a great deal of grief for his little hobby, grief she was glad to shoulder for the honor of carrying on what she called his “art.” The wine she made, which I think it is safe for me to say now she ever so often allowed me one sip, was often good, sometimes was like grape flavored moonshine, but never failed to bring her great joy, and us as well. I learned much for my wine-making grandmother – how to be your own person, how to extend generous hospitality, how to enjoy life.

Jesus is walking with his disciples on the road, but they have no idea it is him. They are filled with grief and longing; they’ve witnessed Jesus crucified, and now they speak of hope in the past tense. We had hoped, they say. Meanwhile, this stranger on the road insists on speaking with them about religion, God, a little politics, the scriptures, and their hearts are burning within them, but they can’t quite put their finger on it. They beg him to stay, for some reason they cannot let him go. And then, when he breaks the bread, their eyes are opened, and they recognize the presence of Christ, the risen Christ, in the breaking of bread.

And just like that, he’s gone. Which is not a way of saying that he is no longer with us, but that he is present in all times and places, the risen Christ is still known in the breaking of bread. If I could speak one word to all of us, but especially to those in this room who were privileged to break bread at Grandma’s table – we received a gift, from her hand, yes, but at an even deeper level, from the Christ who met us, through her love and graciousness and life, at that table. For this gift, we can only say thanks be to God.

Never discount the Table. It is the place where God meets us and feeds us, it is our true home. Here we catch a glimpse of the Kingdom, where all the pain and brokenness of this world will be taken up into the loving hands of God, who gives us the very gift of his son, body and blood, for our healing. Grandma used to say, sometimes quite pointedly, turn off that T.V. and get outside. It’s too pretty to be holed up in this house. Get up out of that bed and come to breakfast. We’re ready to eat. Take time to sit at table with your family and friends. Turn off the television, put away the paper, take the phone off the hook, and just be. They are gifts, you know, from the very hand of God, and God meets us there.

To see these gifts, to receive them, takes time – and those of us who dined at her table learned something of what it means to receive the gift of life. As we worship God this day, as we remember the one I called Grandma, may this worship and these memories help us see more clearly the gift of God. It is the witness of our faith that even now, in the joy of the resurrection, Grandma takes her place at the glorious Table in the Kingdom of our beloved Christ. In the breaking of that bread, her eyes are opened, her voice restored, her baptism – and her joy – complete, her life abundant.

I find myself from time to time reflecting on what it will be like in the Kingdom of God. I think it might be something like Second Creek on an early summer evening, the water still in the fading light, our skin slightly, joyfully burned, as we sit at the bottom of the hill swapping stories and laughing. And then a familiar voice calling, “Time for supper,” and we carry our tired bodies up the hill to the table, home at last.

Now to the One who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we can ask or imagine, to God be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.