They'll Know We Are Christians By [You Fill in the Blank]

One of the closing songs we sang a few weeks ago at church was the classic "They'll Know We Are Christians".  The song is certainly biblical in its message and context, remains contemporary  in any age of the church, and has not suffered the same notoriety associated with other oldies such as Kumbaya.  And we know the way the song goes, paraphrasing as it does from John 13:35...the world (they) will know that we are truly followers of Jesus by our love.

Sadly, however true and biblically sound the song may be, I found myself thinking as we sang it that the practical reality of our witness in the world has been badly tarnished and the words seemed empty to me.  It is no longer true that the world knows that we proclaim to be followers of Jesus by the demonstration of our love.  They know we are "Christians" by our judgment, by our enforced isolation in our little enclaves, by our separation from the culture around us, by our dogmatic lecturing on a handful of issues, and by our legislative initiatives.  I always heard that it was very difficult to get a Christian to explain what they were for, but that they were never at a loss to explain what they were against.

How did we ever stray that far from the new commandment given by Jesus Himself as He faced the ultimate giving of Himself in love for the world He had created and now intended to deliver from futility and darkness?  The theme of love is scattered throughout the writings of the Apostle John.  Besides the recording of Jesus's words in his gospel, John writes " We know that we have passed from death to life because we love..." (I John 3:14; "Beloved let us love one another, for love is of God, and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God..." (I John 4:7);  "Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another..." (I John 4:20); and  "Now I plead with you...not as though I wrote a new commandment to you but one which we have had from the beginning, that we love one another..." (II John 5).  You get the picture.

Church tradition speaks of John in his latter years, and consistently indicate that he was a broken record, always exhorting his audience, "My little children, love one another."  When pressed as to why he preached the same sermon over and over, it is recorded in that tradition that he replied, "Because it is the commandment of the Lord, and if we can attain only this one thing, it will be enough."  Perhaps in this Christmas season we need to be reminded that the entire message of the season is one, ongoing demonstration of the love of God towards the world He created, and then perhaps we can lay aside not just the sin that so easily besets us, but the prejudice and the doctrinal arguments and the righteous judgments that most easily beset us, and then let us run the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who exhorted us above all to love.  

The Turn of the Cycle, First Sunday of Advent

Once again the cycle turns and I find myself at the beginning.  And as I sat in church on the First Sunday of Advent I recognized that the Jews, and then the Christians, had it right when they formed their calendars.  There was always what I would call a secular calendar marking time based on days and cycles and seasons, and there was a second calendar, a sacred calendar, marking time based on the presence and action of God in the work of deliverance and reconciliation.  Despite this dual marking or remembrance of time, we tend to order our lives by the secular calendar with seasons bracketed by holidays, vacations, deadlines, paychecks, appointments, retirement, and dozens of other mile markers.  And that calendar, the secular one, tends to be so filled up that it's easy to forget the sacred, the spiritual ordering of our minds, hearts, and souls that should somehow be more real and meaningful.   The world moves on, year after year, but even as it does God is still at work, still present.  And it should be the sacred calendar that brings us back to the underlying reality of what is true and right in our lives.

That is why I begin each year by buying a new calendar book, one that is formatted to fit the secular year from January 1 to December 31, one that has all of the pre-printed reminders of things the publishers feel we ought to be aware of.  Some are useless; for instance, why give me four years of important dates reminding me that New Year's Day is on January 1 each year.  Some are bizarre; who did lobby to get Administrative Professionals Day started and put on the calendar?  And a few are useful; for instance, knowing when Canada Day was would have prevented me from visiting the Canadian side of Niagara Falls on that day with all of the other thousands of Canadians.  But what I do with this new calendar is immediately pencil in the liturgical calendar for the year, placing the dates and seasons that have to do with God's work within our world, and, by extension, God's work within my life.  Thus it is I find myself back at the beginning of the old, old story with a full four weeks until the end of the secular year.  And it is my hope that I receive the story fresh and new as it begins its retelling, and that I find my own life once again woven into its context and storyline.

True, but....

I recently heard a radio preacher use the word antinomy.  It must be a technical word because I have never heard it used in the way he used it.  I am familiar (from my Christian Reconstructionist days) with the word antinomian, meaning someone who rejects the binding nature of the law of God (for a variety of different reasons), but the sense in which it was used on the radio was closer to the definition I found in Merriam Websters dictionary...."a contradiction between two apparently equally valid principles, a fundamental and apparently unresolvable conflict or contradiction."  The speaker was referring to some of the mysteries we commonly hold in our study of the scripture, free will versus divine sovereignty, God is love versus the wrath of God, created in the image of God versus total corruption, and others like those.

We do not naturally feel drawn to such things because we have been drilled that there is absolute truth, that this absolute truth is knowable by revelation, and that this revelation is given to us in the written Bible.  Thus we have the common proverb "God says it, I believe it, that settles it."  But when God says, or does, or shows forth two things that in themselves are true but which are the opposite of each other, then we are forced into the mental and verbal gymnastics that fill even the best of commentaries.  And the argument that these are just two sides of the same coin is an analogy that falls short in my estimation, because anyone who has won or lost a bet on a coin flip knows that which side of the coin lands up takes precedence over the side that is down.  It is that very coin flip that has split arminianism from calvinism, or universalists from fundamentalist.

I don't have much more to comment on this, nor do I remember much of how the radio preacher dealt with the apparent antinomy he had in mind.  I merely think we would be better served if more of our teachers would dare to admit that they do not have a clue as to how two characteristically opposite truths can be true at the same time.  It would be much more honest than cobbling together a system of intricate verbal arguments that seem to me to be nothing but a house of cards waiting for a stray breeze to scatter them.  Let's accept the fact that our "professionals" cannot really adequately explain the tensions in Christian revelation and living to us, and let us seek to live our lives well in the moment, trusting to the one who holds our souls in His hand.

Short Term Missions

This past Sunday we had a report from someone who had recently gone overseas as part of a short term missions trip to Uganda.  Let me state up front that I am not a fan of short term missions trips, but it was refreshing to finally hear someone honestly assess the purpose of the trip.  The speaker simply said the trip was for us, implying that there was no long term strategy for Uganda that was worked out by the trip, but rather a sincere recognition that sometimes we need to get outside our comfort zone to fully realize what resources we have and the potential given to us.  This type of trip will never have long lasting impacts on the region of visit, but it can provide a return on the investment made within the person who attended.  An honest assessment,  but in my mind still misguided somewhat.  Here is where I am coming from on this.  If the trip was all about them, they should have paid for it.  Instead they solicited donations and scholarships from individuals and churches to underwrite a portion of the cost.  I don't care how people choose to spend their own money, but I do have this one problem with short term missions trips soliciting outreach money from my church....the money spent sending and accommodating the team is much better spent actually addressing the needs of the recipient population, and this can only be done by organizations working in country with local staff and resources.

Typical church missions trips that I have seen are usually a minimum team of 8 to 10 people.  If that is true, what the team spent to get to and from the location overseas, and for the expenses they incurred for the week or so they were in country, that amount could have paid for the nutritional program that the NGO I work with operates for a full year's period.  I cannot help but weigh in my mind the blessing and inspiration of 8 to 10 people over the intervention in the life of more than 1500 at risk children and mothers.  I think we need to be wiser stewards of how we invest the money of our congregations.

The Tradition of the Elders

There was some conflict in the Sunday church service for me.  It happened in this fashion.  The sermon was about how the "tradition of the elders" often put aside what the real heart of the commandment of God was intended to be, and that it was so easy to be doing religious things while totally missing the mind and will of God.  All well and good, but the opening prayer spoke of what the will of God was, and, according to the pray-er for the day, that was to fill up the church with people every Sunday and wasn't it great that the church was pretty full today.  And that's where the disconnect came in for me.  We speak (our pulpits speak) of what God requires of us in spirit and truth, but the average person in the pew seems to have a much different idea of what church is all about.  Attendance and tithing seem to be the measures of our spiritual maturity rather than sacrificial and humble service.  And how does that come to pass?  As evangelicals, lovers of the gospel, we have allowed the traditions of our elders to inform our spirituality rather than the Holy Spirit of God.  We substitute right doctrine, witnessing, cheerful giving, scripture reading, attendance at church, participation in church committees, and a thousand other good things to eclipse our relationship to the living God.  And this is what bugs me most.  I can see that transition clearly, but I don't have a clue how to turn it around and have it take hold of a church congregation in body and soul.

What does God require of us?  To do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.  That has nothing to do with attendance at church or any other tradition or practice that we may have picked up along our journey.  In fact the practice of those examples of spirituality is more apt to occur in our lives outside the church rather than in one of our church gatherings.  Until then it seems as if our congregations will continue to emphasize things that are not necessarily bad, but things that just keep our focus away from things that could work eternal good in us.  Inherited Christianity can be a strong foundation upon which to build, or a cage that keeps us from liberty in Christ.  It's something I need to consider further before I can hope to have any answers.
      

Who is Welcome at the Table of the Lord?

I have recently been doing some historical research into the concept of who is welcome to partake of the table of the Lord at communion after the topic came up at our last elder's meeting.  I was surprised that there are actually three defensible positions that exist in the church.  From most liberal to most strict they are as follows (and I simplify their positions for the sake of presentation because there are nuances to each of them).  Open communion allows anyone in the service who is saved to partake of communion.  Some churches say that those who love Jesus are welcome, or even just those that are seeking God may come.  Using this definition even sincere unbelievers can be included in the table.  Close communion is a middle ground, and restricts communion to those that are saved and baptized, and who are of "like faith and practice", meaning you believe the same things and practice your spirituality in roughly the same way.  In theory a Lutheran could probably come to an Episcopal table, but it is unlikely that a Baptist would (sacramental view versus ordinance).  Closed communion restricts the table to those that are saved, baptized and members in good standing of the local congregation or denomination, period.  So which is right?  Or as it was broached at the elder's meeting, which one is the correct "bible" position?  In theory that sounds good, but in practice it's not so easy to decide since parts of the church hold each of the positions and can defend their practice with Chapter and Verse.

I have practiced my Christianity under each of the three and what I am going to offer now is my own opinion based not on bible verses or even historic church practices, but on what seems to fit the Jesus that I know best.  I know that this may be grounds for immediate dismissal, condemnation for making God in my image and likeness and synthesizing my religion into what works for me.  But sometimes, just sometimes, the old formula "What would Jesus do" works better for me than dogma or doctrine.  And I think that what Jesus would do is say "Come to me all you who are heavy laden and I will give you rest."  He would choose to eat with open and profligate sinners and tax collectors.  He would break bread saying "I am the bread of life..." while giving it to any that had their hand out.  I don't think that He would have built a fence around His table but would have invited all to taste and see that the Lord and His graciousness is indeed good.

They say we are to worship God in spirit and in truth.  I have worshiped God in truth to the detriment of all else, making every exercise of my faith a division, an exclusion, a marking out, a drawing of lines and deciding what side I am on.  For now, I choose to worship God in spirit, and given the choice between living in truth or living in love, I will err on the side of love.  I for one, am not going to be part of the communion police, deciding who is saved, who is in good standing, who is truly walking in the light.  It's the Lord's table, I will trust Him to sort it out in the end.

The Vagueness of Spiritual Unity

Our church has been chugging through the task of calling a pastor for three years and is finally at the point of calling a settled pastor, in fact his first Sunday was just last weekend so you already know how this all turned out.  But I wanted to record my thoughts on the final dash to the wire because I think it is instructive.  The interim pastor used one of his last Sundays in the pulpit as an opportunity to begin what appeared to most everyone to be a sure-thing transition to a new pastor even though no formal vote had been taken at that point in time.  He preached on calling, and choice, and decision and culminated by urging the congregation to move forward in unity.  But what exactly does that mean?  You hear that call to unity everywhere in Christian circles, but hardly ever see it demonstrated in Christian circles.  What you see is judgment, exclusion, division, endless doctrinal debate, and condemnation (let's dust off that word anathema and put it to good use!).

Does moving forward in unity mean that everyone rubber stamps the selection committee's choice?  Does it mean that every congregational member agrees with the process and decisions that have brought us to this point?  Does it mean that we fully agree that this pastoral candidate is God's exact and perfect choice for our congregation in this time and place?  You can see where that type of preaching on unity can lead to.  The facts of the matter are that not everyone agrees with the selection committee (even they were not unanimous in their recommendation), the process of selection has been too long and flawed from the beginning because of a false sense of loyalty to the bylaws and a near absolute exclusion of the congregation, and after three years the selection committee turned up only one viable candidate, not hardly the clear direction that the church hoped for.  However, true unity recognizes that we, as a church congregation, have come to a point of decision regarding our future direction, and although each of us reads the tea leaves differently, we find ourselves constrained in our choices but still faced with the demand to choose.  And right or wrong, each of us had to vote our conscience with what we had at hand and then move forward together, supporting and not second guessing or complaining about the choice made, whatever side we fell on after the vote.  Real fellowship in the midst of disagreement, difference of opinion, and personal preferences, that marks the unity that must now keep us steady ahead. 

Six Weeks in the Pulpit

Once more I dust off the mea culpa as I log in and realize that even I have not been back to this blog since May.  For shame.  I might properly blame it on summer, or at least summer in Vermont.  It's all too short, you see, and there are a lot of other things I would rather do related to the outdoors rather than the internet, but it's time to get back to business.  Sunday's at church or listening to the week to Christian radio usually provides sufficient fodder to get a short blog going, but for the past six weeks I have had the privilege to hold the pulpit at the United Church of South Royalton as we went through that interim period between our interim pastor and our new pastor.  That made me an interim, interim, I guess.  What it reminded me of was spiritual giftings that have laid dormant for a long time and were finally given an opportunity to be used in a powerful way.  I know that we give a lot of lip service to recognizing spiritual gifts and allowing them to be used in our congregations, but that may be all well and good for spiritual gifts like hospitality or giving or service, but just where does someone with the gift of pastor/teacher find an outlet?  But that's a side issue for now.  I once again realized the following from my experience:

• Proclaiming the word of God intensely focuses it on your own life, you must first be changed by it or have it real inside of you before you can truly share it.
• The word of God is living and powerful, and when rightly divided and used can reach into the heart and soul of the congregation.
• Preach Christ, and Him crucified, and people will respond better than they will to doctrine (that leaves a soul dry) or judgment (that leaves a soul without hope).  As my wife Kathy always admonishes me when I have a chance to enter the pulpit, "Tell me about Jesus".

I garnered a lot of atta-boys from my six weeks of preaching that helped to confirm again my gifting and calling.  But I wanted to close with the one that meant the most to me.  One woman simply said that she had started taking notes in church again.  What I had to say meant something to her and was worth remembering.  No higher compliment could have been given.

Dry Bones

My church has been talking about being in a time of spiritual dryness.  I am puzzled by this because I have not really notice any difference in the church over the past year.  Now that could mean that I am spiritual dead and unresponsive myself, but I somehow do not think that is the case.  Over the centuries spiritual dryness has been defined as feeling separated from God, from lacking a sense of power or purpose in prayer, of going through the motions in our spiritual pilgrimage but lacking real conviction of the eternal.  And there has been multitudes of counsel for how to work through those times.  But how do we know that we are in those times?  Is it declining church attendance, increased family problems in the congregation, decreased giving, lack of motivation to serve?  I still don't know how to gauge the times of spiritual rain and spiritual dryness.  After all, maybe it is just the created ebb and flow of life.

I don't live each day in great spiritual revelation, I do not see miracles happening everywhere around me, my way is not made sure by warrior angels going before me, I do not sense that I come into the throne room of God when I go to church.  But I do my best to be present for those that interact with me daily, I try to be aware of my wife and her needs, I make time for the grandchildren when they come over, I offer a full day's effort for a reduced day's pay at work, I get up each day to confronts its challenges, and I go to bed each night trying to lay down anything that has clung to me from the day's activities.  And I firmly believe that even though my days are predictable, unimaginative, and sometimes downright tedious, that they are lived as faithfully as lies within my power in the presence of God.  They used to call that mundane, from the Latin word for world, mundus.  And it is set against some spiritual ideal of the heavenly realm.  That is where the conflict lies.  We might theoretically be seated in the heavenlies with Christ, but we live day in and day out in a world that is slightly askew and does not yet see Christ reigning over all things.

The challenge is to know the presence of God in the mundane and not just label the tedious times as spiritual dryness.  Solomon said that God has already put eternity in our hearts.  It's hard to imagine spiritual dryness and eternity dwelling as room mates.  I can count on one hand the times that I have really, really felt the hand of God in my life, but that does not mean that I am unaware of Him through the majority of my really tedious days.  We are too quick to hang labels on life when God does not meet our expectations.  I think it is just time to remain faithful in what we do with our lives, and persevere in whatever circumstances confront us.  Life has always been for me one step after the next, it's time to move on.

A Personal Struggle

I am in the midst of my own slightly past mid-life crisis as I confront the biblical ideal versus the day to day reality of my spiritual journey.  I think everyone comes face to face with this crisis point more than once in their journey.  The biblical ideal constantly bombards me as I listen to Christian radio, to bible preachers with a secure ministry, and to those whose lives are pretty well settled out and secure and love to remind me that God has a wonderful plan for my life and I just need to wait on His perfect timing and way.  But what I struggle with is this internal conflict.  I believe with all my heart that I have been given the spiritual gift of preaching and teaching, that I can cut to the heart of the biblical text and proclaim it in an understandable and powerful way.  This is not an inflated view of myself, too much external confirmation from unrelated third parties has proven it over the last decades of practice.  I further acknowledge that such gifts are part of the work of the Holy Spirit, a charisma from God.  But here is where the conflict begins.  I face the question daily of why God would make me thus and so and then not also give me opportunities to use the gift He so obviously put within me.  I am not arguing with the potter about why He made me this way, I'm just asking why He made me this way and then has put me in the back of the storeroom to gather dust.

My spiritual friends counsel me to wait on God's perfect timing, but my heart tells me to pursue options, to not wait for a door to open but to knock on any door that I happen to see in front of me that has a chance to open.  It must be nice to have your life's vocation fully match your spiritual expectations.  I am not yet there myself.

Reflections on a Sunday's Worship Experience

I have never been a "Lone Ranger" Christian, forging a path on my own, and thus each Sunday usually finds my wife and I settled into a pew in a local church.  I don't necessarily like it, but there is something inside of me that says, for better or worse, that salvation is a communal experience and it is worked out within the body of Christ.  But every Sunday is instructive because of the questions it raises within me.  I used to be quite dogmatic, and quite comfortable with fixed forms that never vary.  Suffice it to say that neither of those descriptions fits me quite well.  So here are the thoughts that played inside my mind during this past Sunday's worship experience.

Worship versus Music:  There are certain people in our church that love to sing.  They always bring their instruments when invited anywhere and they would be more than happy to spend the entire church service singing.  They also dominate our praise team and spiritual life committee.   I noted this again when we began ten minutes late because they could not quite end the "pre-music" on time.  This in itself was only a minor bump in the road, but this Sunday was also one of those Sundays in which we have an organist present.  Did I mention that this particular organist has been exploring all of the nooks and crannies of our pew hymnal, resulting sometimes in songs that only she can play and that our pastor can sing.  What all of that confluence of musical preference worked in me was reuminating on the proper use of music in church services.  If we are trying to foster a heart of worship, a sense of awe in God's presence, and our active participation in acknowledging His great works on our behalf, shouldn't we be more in tune with the congregation in the pews rather than our own preferences and practices?  No matter how good a hymn may be in terms of the message it conveys, if no one can sing it, why play it?  Or if people tune out of the pre-music when it starts to run over its alloted time and go beyond its intended purpose, what is accomplished when you finally do come to the real music of worship?  There is a place for "special music" or solos, but I instinctively feel they have to be the exception, not the rule.  There are already too many things in church services that make us spectators rather than participants, music should not be added to the list.

Holy Spirit:  We sing a lot of songs about revival and letting the fire of heaven fall on us, but I often wonder what would happen if it really did?  We want the Spirit of God to be present but the scripture clearly states that He moves where He wills, just like the wind.  And that movement of wind is a vivid picture.  When I think on it I feel it speaks of action, of movement.  The Spirit of God moving as a wind is not intended to be a breeze that makes us comfortable, but as a driving wind that moves us much as a ship moves under sail.  Now it is possible to move contrary to the wind, sailing close to the wind they call it, but it is much easier to generally move in the direction the wind wants to move.  It seems like a no brainer, but we spend much time asking to be moved rather than just gauging the wind and throwing ourselves into it.

Christian Concepts:  We say a lot of things as Christians (things like the joy of the Lord is my strength), but what do we really mean by that or even more importantly what do we experience by it?  We use words like joy, love of God, fellowship, unity, forgiveness, worship, and grace almost every Sunday but there seems little evidence that any of those things are really present and active in us.  They remain just concepts that have little power to change anything until they can really be expressed in application.  The usual response is to quote a scripture or two that seems to promise them or endow them on us, but I confess that I rarely feel joyful, I have a hard time understanding what God wants of me in worship, and many times there is no deep feeling of love that constrains me in church either towards God or my fellow congregants.  I think sometimes we enjoy expounding concepts because it appears to lift us out of the mundane existence of the world, but what is wrong with just being yourself, being present, and participating at that point where your faith is capable of touching God?  I think our gatherings would be much more authentic if we stopped being so evangelically correct in our practices.

Reflections on Christian Practice

I don't have much to make into a substantial blog entry, so I am combining some of the recent reflections I have made during the recent Sunday services I am in attendance at.  These practices are, I think, common to most American Christian churches.

When God Says No:  I wonder why we have to make up reasons to explain why God does not answer our prayers.  Recently in church and on the Christian radio I have heard person after person explain the reasons why God may not be answering our prayers, but they all seem lame to me.  It's time to recognize that life is hard, the effects of the curse are still very visible and present among us, and the Kingdom of God has not yet come in power.  The idea that our unanswered prayers are in the "Not now" tickle folder maintained in heaven just waiting for the time that they can be addressed seems absurd.  I have asked many things over my years of spiritual journey, only a very small amount have really been answered.  It does not take anything away from God to admit this, I still ask.  The success rate when you don't ask is pretty self explanatory.

The Wonderful Plan:  How often have you heard that God has a wonderful plan for your life?  I hear it at least once a day on the Christian radio in various forms.  But what I keep wondering is if God has this wonderful plan for my life, if He gives me all these gifts and talents to make that wonderful plan happen, why does it seem that He fails to give opportunity for the plan to come to pass.  It especially seems that people that are successful in ministry always say this, but I wonder if they would continue to run the party line if they were just a common Joe without all the glitz and position the ministry gives.

Voice Inflection:  I recently noticed that we raise our voices, inflect our words differently when we pray.  Do we think that this adds power or conviction to our prayers?  I remember the story about God speaking, not in a hurricane or fire or earthquake, but in a still small voice, and I think that if the still, small voice was good enough for God to be heard, it should be good enough for us.

I would give anything if we could just strip away all of the accumulated Christian baggage we have picked up along the centuries and just get back to what is essential in our relationship with God.  I have said this many times but it continues to remain true.  I don't know what the real church should look like, but I can easily spot what it should not look like.  If I ever find it, I will let you know.

What is Essential

I recently was asked to renew the small groups in our church congregation.  Our small groups were started back in 2005/2006.  Simply put, they were planted, given very little initial direction, and then left to fend for themselves.  Some have done well, others have waxed and waned, some have withered altogether.  It was time to step up and provide some direction to reorient the groups to the same general direction, to review the spiritual foundation of the groups, and to empower them to really do the work entrusted to them.  That is a long introduction to a very simple concept that formed the heart of what I tried to put into the training.  The whole purpose of the small groups, indeed the church as a whole, is not to make sure that we are well founded in doctrine, knowing what we believe, being able to defend it, cataloging and indexing it for ready use.  It is also not to make sure that we live or behave a certain way, that we do some things consistently and avoid other things altogether.  Right belief and right praxis do not create the type of living fellowship that the human soul earnestly seeks for.    But Jesus does.  And that is the point I tried to get across.  As the old hymn encourages, "tell me the old, old story, of Jesus and His love."  Who is this Jesus, what did He do, what did He say, what example did He leave behind, what was He like.  Too much of our preaching is from the Old Testament law, or from the New Testament doctrinal epistles, too little from the gospels.  The call of the disciple has never been to clean up your act, or to learn this tome of dogma; it has always been, and will remain the call to follow Jesus.  Enough said, time to stop talking about it, time to do it.

Re-Vision

I love the dictionary, it is so circular at times.  I was recently thinking of the word revision and what it means.  The dictionary, in its perfectly obtuse way, told me that revision was the act of revising.  Needless to say I finally found the formal meaning buried layers deep in my search through noun and verb forms.  To revise means to "look over again to correct or improve; to make a new, amended, improved, or up-to-date version."  Now where this all started out at was my thinking about spiritual vision, and the need occassionally to revisit vision, or to re-vision.  The notion that "God said it, I believe it, that settles it" is not the type of direction the church or I need in this time and age.  In the Old Testament the cloud and glory of God dwelt in the camp of Israel as they came out of Egypt.  It was an awesome wonder, a place of revelation, of glory, of spiritual visioning, a people being formed by the hand of God.  But in a day, a week, the cloud moved on and so did the camp.  To stay in the old place would be to remain in the wilderness and never enter into the promise.  God moves and our task is to track that movement and be present.  Too many of our congregations remain stationary in past encampments.

A lot of churches have written visions, those spiritual blueprints that try to say where a congregation believes it should be a year out, five years out, ten or more years out.  The problem with any attempt to develop a vision "cast in concrete" is that it is based on a present understanding that may be outdated in a year or five years.  The Spirit of God moves where He wills, we can't see where He originates, we can't see where He is going, we only feel Him passing in the present.  Too many church visions are concerned with building up the church.  But there is a big difference between "building up the church" and "being built up as a spiritual temple".  One is our idea of what needs to be done, the other is the exclusive movement and action of the Spirit of God.  I remember reading something about the kingdom of God, and the author said something to this effect; there is no reference in the scriptures to building up the kingdom of God, we are only called to receive it, to enter into it.  We do "church" very well, we've had years to perfect our organizations.  But I wonder if it is not time to "re-vision", to lay aside what we think we should be about and start looking again for where the Spirit of God is moving.  To borrow the words of Revelation, let the one with ears hear what the Spirit says to the churches, in this time, in this location.  God moves, it's time to get in step with Him..

Christmas 2012, A Reflection

I apologize for being so late in writing about Christmas.  Here it is the middle of January and Christmas is long past, but better late than never, or so they say.  As I sat in Christmas Eve service recently I found myself saying, "So, once again we read and hear the story of Christmas, and it is a most amazing story."  To quote the movie title, it is literally the greatest story ever told.  But I realized in that moment that there is a tendency to view it as merely a story, however great.  Unless it becomes our story, or more properly unless we become part of the story, it is nothing but a momentary warm and fuzzy feeling that soon loses its glow as we blow out the Christmas candles and are greeted by the cold winter air outside the church building.

I have heard (and confirmed on Google - so it must be true) that in Wales, there is a custom that each Nativity scene has Mary, Joseph and Jesus accompanied by a washerwoman (representing the common person). The belief is that if Jesus is not born into our daily lives then it makes very little sense to celebrate his birth in Bethlehem. The presence of angels and shepherds and kings all together at the manger should remind us that God is no respecter of persons, that all are created in His image and likeness and all are invited into the His presence from the lowest to the highest, without distinction.  That fact makes the story ours as together we hear the amazing proclamation, "Today, in the city of David is born for YOU a Savior, who is Christ, the Lord."
What else can one say but "Glory to God in the highest?"

Ichabod....A Call to Worship

I am sitting in the sanctuary secretly content because the paraments are finally the right color for the liturgical season thanks to a chart I gave to the sacristan.  All is right with the world, at least from a liturgical sense.  Then comes the call to worship, what we liturgists would more properly call the Introit, and the pastor reminds us that God is here with us; and, being the closet heretic that I am, wonder "How does he know that?"  Now to be fair, I have stood in the same place he is standing and I have said those very words myself, often quoting the verse about where two or three are gathered in My name.  But the question remains, how do we know that the presence of God is with us on this Sunday?

The fact remains that our sanctuaries are not the Jerusalem temple where God promised to dwell with His people.  The shekinah glory does not radiate behind our altar hangings and communion rail.  But the question remains and must be answered, because if God is not present in our gatherings, why bother to gather?  While musing further, I recalled the Zechariah 8 scripture that says, in part, "In those days ten people from all languages and nations will take firm hold of one Jew by the hem of his robe and say, ‘Let us go with you, because we have heard that God is with you.’”  This is evangelism at its best, people hungry for spiritual relationship being drawn into the fellowship we have.  But I looked around the sanctuary this particular Sunday and did not notice anyone with ten people clinging to their coat, and I wondered anew whether the presence of God was truly with us.  And then the point of my cogitations was finally reached when I realized that our churches are not temples, but the scripture does say that our bodies, our persons are temples of the Holy Spirit.  And unless the presence of God came into our sanctuary with each of us on this Sunday, we could not claim that God was present, at least in a specific sense of time and place.  We did not come to church on Sunday to enter the presence of God, but corporately to acknowledge His relationship with us.

From the realization that God dwells now in His people, not buildings, my trail led me finally to Ichabod, the glory of the Lord has departed, that famous phrase uttered when the ark of the covenant was taken by the enemies of Israel.  Where the ark went, so went the presence of God.  Where we go, so should also go the presence of God.  When the statement is made that God is present in our gathering, the truth of that statement resides in each of us gathered together, and we know the truth of that declaration, or the futility of it.  For the sake of the ten that may someday cling to our coats I pray that it may always be true each Sunday that we gather.