A Time of Healing

As Kathy and I grow old, we are becoming more and more aware of our own weaknesses, and of the slow but steady decline of our bodies' ability to keep itself alive and thriving.  Kathy has always been the healthy one, I have been the one consigned to taking eight medications and three or for other popular over the counter supplements to keep my blood pressure controlled, my heart from suddenly stopping, my cholesterol in check, and my gout in abeyance.  But recently her health and eyesight have taken a significant turn for the worse, and so on one August Sunday we found ourselves attending mass at the Immaculate Heart of Mary parish in Williston.  It was communion Sunday, but then it is always communion Sunday in the Roman Church, and we partook of the sacrament with the other worshippers with only a slight tinge of hesitation.  Although we may be officially protestant in this time of our lives, the Roman Church always says "Once a Catholic, always a Catholic", and so we took to heart the admonition of "Welcome Home Catholic", at least as far as sharing in the worship of the God we serve.  What lightened my heart tremendously was seeing the old forms made present in a new and living way for this generation, and what pleased both Kathy and I was receiving the full lectionary readings of the scriptures, Psalm, Old Testament, New Testament, and Gospel, and then having the pastor actually preach from the Gospel and relate the particular story of Jesus to our immediate needs and focus.

But I digress.  We actually went to the church to participate in a healing service led by a Catholic priest, Father Lance Harlow, who has a healing ministry that he offers to all comers.  What struck me by the service was the vast difference between it and most protestant healing services I have gone to.  It was simple, it was reverent, it was powerful, it was conducted in silence.  It was also unusual for a former pre-Vatican II altar boy.  Father Harlow displayed the consecrated host in a monstrance on a small table in front of a kneeler and then told each person seeking healing to come to the front, kneel down, and touch the bottom of the monstrance as if you were touching the hem of Jesus' garment, and then just tell Jesus what it was that you wished Him to do.  Any pre-Vatican II Catholic knows that no one directly touches a monstrance, when a priest elevates it or it is moved by a server it is always through the outer vestment, and I sensed immediately that there was something genuinely divine present at work.  Several people were visibly affected, there were assistants to help you if you needed it.  And then, about an hour after it began, Father Harlow closed the service and left without ceremony and we went home.  The work was the Lord's, there was no reason to linger on, it was either done or not.

I record this event solely to introduce this question, "If you could ask Jesus for anything, what would it be?"  That was the question Kathy and I wrestled with in the service.  I know that is supposed to be available to us anytime we pray, but all I can say that in this sanctuary that question was more real than it has ever been, and I knew that if I asked, I would be heard.  Not wanting to appear greedy, I chose to forgo asking for healing for the different ailments I brought in with me and asked for something else instead.  It only remains to be seen what the manifestation to that request will bring.  More than anything else I knew that Jesus was present, not in theory but in reality, that I was present, and that something divine had occurred.

More of Jesus

For some reason or another, I feel it necessary to state one more time that theology is not satisfying.  Every time I hear one more New Testament scholar quoted, or hear one more dissertation from a biblical language expert about the nuances and meaning of a conjunction in a particular passage, I come away empty.  For instance, Romans is 16 chapters long, how can you write a two volume commentary on a letter to a church? And yet that and much more has been done.  It seems to me theology falls into the same trap that any "ology" falls into, publish or perish.  I mean, how many commentaries have been written by respected "experts" on the book of Romans.  If you have one or two insightful, faithful works, why do you need fifty or a hundred?

It goes back to something my wife has said to me dozens of times and that has informed my perspective and preaching in my latter years, "Just tell me about Jesus."  Don't lecture me on Paul's use of particular words in his letters, or talk about overarching concepts like justification or election, bring me face to face with Jesus, and then do it again, and again, and again.  It never get's old, and it satisfies my soul like nothing else can. You can constrain me ultimately by your arguments and proof texts by wearing me down to the point where I no longer care and give in, but you can't change my heart with arguments, only with Jesus.  Enough said!

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.

Love Songs to Jesus, a Confession

I want to confess that I find it difficult during Sunday worship or in special church settings to emotionally respond to songs that exhort me to "celebrate Jesus" or "love Jesus".  Heck, I have basic problems with the call to "worship and adore" Him.  It's not that I don't know the truth that is contained in those exhortations, or can't explain the great gulf between the supreme worthiness of God and sinners saved by grace.  I understand the theology and biblical teaching well enough to articulate it.  The problem lies with me and the fact that I don't really know Jesus, at least not like I know my wife, or my grandchildren, or my boss at work.  I know the truth and can pretend that He lives inside of me by the Holy Spirit but right now I react to my world about 90% physical and 10% spiritual.  The fact of the matter is I can't see Him, touch Him, sit across from Him or even talk to Him face to face, and no amount of bible quoting lifts me one foot higher towards His throne in heaven.  I don't mean to sound blasphemous, but it is difficult for me in the temperament I have to relate to Jesus in the way that is expected of a typical Christian believer.  Talking into the air or cutting the pages of scripture is not very much of a conversation for me.

I don't receive special revelations; when faced with a choice I weigh it as long as I dare to before choosing what seems right.  I rarely feel that I have been divinely nudged, I don't see every moment of every day as a divine appointment and rarely can I really say that something that happened was a "God-thing".  Being surrounded by people that do respond that way makes me feel out of step, on the fringe.  All that I really end up doing is seeking to faithfully do what the prophet said, I try to act justly towards all, to seek to move in mercy not judgement, and when it comes to spiritual stuff, to humbly do whatever it is that seems to lay in front of me.  Or as my wife is fond of quoting, all you have to do is "love God and love others".  Somehow I feel that there may be more substance in a life lived in this manner than some expressive emotionalism for an hour each Sunday.  We'll have to wait and see how that all sugars off in the long run.

Lord, You Know that I Love You

Some Sundays ago in Eastertide we read the account in John's gospel about Jesus confronting Peter three times about whether Peter really loved Him or not.  I ask myself that same question a lot, in different ways and times, but all boiling down to the same question, "Do I really love Jesus in a way that leads to a life that is lived in accordance with what I believe He would have me do?" Or is my whole life just a religious facade that I have cobbled together over the years, borrowing a little from this denomination, incorporating a little from that church, and so on?  I honestly don't know.  Let me give you an example to illustrate.

Some of the most profound worship songs that I have ever heard -- you know those songs, the ones that tug your heart, bring tears to your eyes, and through the tears help you to see light like you have never seen it --, well those songs were written by habitual sinners, drunkards in my particular story.  People who knew the power of God in a way that many of us cannot relate to because they spent so much of their life making a mockery of everything they held sacred and yet, even at the lowest points, knowing that God loved them even then.  And while drinking does not tend to be my personal demon, I have others that I wrestle with, we all do; things that are secret, things that remain hidden, tendencies that cannot be indulged because of what follows.  And so when Jesus asks me if I love Him, how do I answer?  I can give Him the biblically correct answer, but when I start to speak all of my failure and wasted life gets replayed in my mind and the answer dies on my lips.  Imagine Peter wilting under this interrogation.  The man who three times betrayed Jesus only days before is now asked whether He loves this Jesus who stands before Him.  I've been there too, I think you have as well.   But the struggle of Peter to answer finally breaks through, and I lay hold of it as well and make it my own.  I don't know if I love You as I ought, my life certainly has not reflected the reality of that type of relationship; but You know that I love You, otherwise You would not be standing in front of me and asking me these questions.  You can look beyond my weakness, my constant and consistent failure, and my wishy-washiness where my own eyes always get stuck to see eternity set in my soul, and in Your eyes I see that You know that I love You.  When the Son sets you free, you are finally free indeed!