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?"
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
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.
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.
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