The more life changes, the more it stays the same. I have heard that one. The only thing constant in life is change. I have heard that one too. Both truisms are true even if they may seem to be in conflict with one another. The older I get, the more convinced I become that as life goes on changes will have to happen because of life's circumstances. We pass from one decade to the next and our bodies change, of course. The persons we were when we were in our 20s are not who we are when we are in our 60s. We look much different than we once did and we may even think a lot different than we did in the past. Life has molded us into the people we have become and often for the better.
I am much the same person I was when I was a teenager, only more handsome and less fat than in those days, thank God and proper diet and exercise (that takes care of the fat part but the handsome part is up to you....I think I do look a lot better than I did when I was in high school...egad, how weird is that?). I entered an occupation and a marriage in the same summer and at the age of 21 and now almost 40 years later I reflect upon those decades and all the changes I have seen in life, specially my life. Two children, now grown and living independently (very independently), one wife that has been the same one for almost 4 decades, two professions later....and I am mostly very happy with the way life is for me.
When we first started out in life together, my wife and I were both school teachers and lived in Humble, Texas, just north of Houston, and Humble was a small country town that Houston had not reached yet. We lived in a little one bedroom apartment and were very active in the church that was just down the street from us. We had many friends there and socialized with them often. Today, I never hear from any of those friends. We even traveled with some of them, to the Rocky Mountains on a few occasions. We caught fish together and shared mountain cabins and I thought we would be friends forever. Then we moved north, away from Houston, closer to Dallas. Those friends faded like the light at the close of day as the night sets in. I have not heard anything from any of them in at least two decades now. Life changes and so do we.
I am not the man I was when I was 21. I was not that guy when I was 41. Today, as I approach 61 (in two months) I do not resemble him physically, emotionally, spiritually, politically, or in just about any other way. I am so different now than I was when I first started out in adulthood that I most likely could not be good friends with those persons I considered to be close friends then. They and I no longer share the values that I thought we did in the early 70s. Some of them cling to the ideas they had long ago and I know I could never convince them to see the world any differently. They are who they have been for decades and I am not the same guy they knew.
I became convinced of this fact a couple years ago when I decided to attend the burial of the pastor of the church I attended when I was in college. He was a wonderful man and he and his family accepted me as part of the gang and I shared many hours with them that nurtured me and helped me through some most difficult times. I have kept in touch with his children through the years and when I heard that he had passed away and would be buried in Brenham, I decided to go to the burial. The funeral had been held in Fort Worth so this was supposed to be simply the graveside burial service. It was a very hot summer day when this was held and a tent had been erected in the cemetery. People were sweltering under the tent and there were few places to sit so I stood in the back of the crowd and sweated and wanted it to be over so I could visit with my friends from long ago. As the brother-in-law preacher began his long apocalyptic discourse filled with messages that I would preferred not to have heard, it dawned on me that I did not belong. No longer did I belong in this crowd of people shouting "Amen" as the preacher droned on. No longer did I belong with people whose world view was so different from mine. No longer did I belong with people who considered all who do not believe or practice what they teach as "sinners" because I now fit that category if they were to be totally honest. I was the black sheep who had happened in to mix with all the white sheep who inhabited the flock of the righteous and holy.
I had intended to stay around to visit and have food after the burial but something inside me told me it was time to make my exit, and I left without telling anyone that I was leaving. It was as if a panic set it that told me it was "fight or flight" time and fleeing was better than fighting in this instance. As I drove away, it was as if a curtain pulled in my mind to separate me from the past that this group represented. At one time, I had been part of their particular religious dogma. I now find it oppressive and dictatorial and could never return to it or them.
Passages....we all travel through this life and we find traveling companions along the way. Some of them we keep for life....if we are lucky. Some of them come and go as we move and travel and change. Some of them drop out of our lives for good along the way and we think about them now and then and let go of the memory because it does us little good to long for something that is no longer possible to have. We change as life does and our lives continue to be be impressed by others even as we impress them by the kinds of lives we live.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Monday, October 7, 2013
Strangers Are Friends You Have Not Met Yet
Seventeen new friends came to our church hall last night. They had flown all the way from Germany to visit Texas (and Louisiana too but we claim them now). They are part of a group that is visiting Texas to compare our agricultural system to theirs. They are touring farms and ranches, looking at animals and crops being grown, and driving over the miles of roads that separate these facilities and lands.
Last night we had a welcoming dinner at our church hall to welcome them to our town. Our men grilled chicken and beef and everyone else brought dishes to go with the meat. It always works out well when we have these potluck dinners. There always seems to be just the right number of vegetables and salads and desserts. I have never seen it happen that everyone brings a dessert and no one brings other things needed. It seems that people just sense what is needed to go with the main course. I prepared German Potato Salad, hoping that one of the German people would compliment me on it and tell me that it tasted just like their Oma made but they ate it along with the rest of the food and smiled and talked and seemed happy. My wife made a Texas Sheet Cake and it also was eaten along with happy chatter.
Welcoming strangers and extending hospitality to others has a long history in the Biblical record. Abraham and Sarah did it for three strangers who happened to stop by their tent on their sojourn across the desert. The disciples did it for a stranger that turned out to be the Risen Christ who revealed himself in the breaking of bread as they prepared to eat. Something mystical happens when people eat together. A bond forms that unites their spirits even as they break bread and drink wine and share stories. Strangers become friends right before the eyes of everyone present.
Doris and I last visited Germany in 2009. I was on sabbatical for a month and we stayed around Germany most of that time looking here and there and learning a lot about the country of my wife's ancestors which is also the country of the ancestors of many of my church members. One day we took a train ride from Freiburg where we were staying to a smaller town that is about 10 miles north of there. I had made contact with a pastor of a German Lutheran Church in that city before leaving home and he said we should stop in to see him when we were in the area so we did. I sent him an email and told him the day we would be there and he sent back a note telling us how to recognize him when we got off the train. Sure enough, when we descended the steps of the train, there was Hans standing there wearing a UCC comma pin on his lapel, just as he said he would be doing.
Hans took us to his church in his small vehicle and we met his co-pastor Wolfgang and had coffee and cookies. Then, he drove us to the school where he teaches a class as part of his pastoral duties (remember there is no separation of church and state in Germany so pastors can teach in schools as well as do other things) and we met some of his students who quizzed us about being Americans. Then, we had lunch at a very nice restaurant and they refused to let us pay for our meals. Then, Hans led us up a bell tower for a great view around the area so we could see the vineyard that his in-laws own as well as the rest of the area. Finally, Hans drove us around town to see the area and stopped at his house where his wife had prepared a cake and coffee and we met his three sons and enjoyed their incredible hospitality. Hans had to leave for a church meeting so his wife drove us to the train station so we could catch our train back to Freiburg to where we were staying.
We invited Hans and his family to come see us in Texas someday and they said that would be wonderful but it was doubtful that they could. Plane fares for a family of five is very expensive and traveling as we had was not something they could presently afford. So, we are not able to repay their extravagant hospitality that they had shown to us. But.....we can repay them by showing that same hospitality to others who come in our presence. Some may be visitors such as our German friends whom we cooked for and tried to made them feel welcome in our town. Some may be people we bump into during our daily routine and we take the time to do something for them even though we thought we were too busy to be interrupted. Some may be folks who say they are down on their luck and they need our assistance and we give it even though we wonder if we are being rooked. Hospitality is given where it is needed and at times when it may not be convenient for us to give it. Who knows if our German friend Hans set aside a day to show us his extreme hospitality or if he purposely rearranged his day and put other things on hold just so he could be with us instead? I will never know but he and his family and co-worker made a great impression on me and my wife on that day.
"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." (Hebrews 13:2)
Last night we had a welcoming dinner at our church hall to welcome them to our town. Our men grilled chicken and beef and everyone else brought dishes to go with the meat. It always works out well when we have these potluck dinners. There always seems to be just the right number of vegetables and salads and desserts. I have never seen it happen that everyone brings a dessert and no one brings other things needed. It seems that people just sense what is needed to go with the main course. I prepared German Potato Salad, hoping that one of the German people would compliment me on it and tell me that it tasted just like their Oma made but they ate it along with the rest of the food and smiled and talked and seemed happy. My wife made a Texas Sheet Cake and it also was eaten along with happy chatter.
Welcoming strangers and extending hospitality to others has a long history in the Biblical record. Abraham and Sarah did it for three strangers who happened to stop by their tent on their sojourn across the desert. The disciples did it for a stranger that turned out to be the Risen Christ who revealed himself in the breaking of bread as they prepared to eat. Something mystical happens when people eat together. A bond forms that unites their spirits even as they break bread and drink wine and share stories. Strangers become friends right before the eyes of everyone present.
Doris and I last visited Germany in 2009. I was on sabbatical for a month and we stayed around Germany most of that time looking here and there and learning a lot about the country of my wife's ancestors which is also the country of the ancestors of many of my church members. One day we took a train ride from Freiburg where we were staying to a smaller town that is about 10 miles north of there. I had made contact with a pastor of a German Lutheran Church in that city before leaving home and he said we should stop in to see him when we were in the area so we did. I sent him an email and told him the day we would be there and he sent back a note telling us how to recognize him when we got off the train. Sure enough, when we descended the steps of the train, there was Hans standing there wearing a UCC comma pin on his lapel, just as he said he would be doing.
Hans took us to his church in his small vehicle and we met his co-pastor Wolfgang and had coffee and cookies. Then, he drove us to the school where he teaches a class as part of his pastoral duties (remember there is no separation of church and state in Germany so pastors can teach in schools as well as do other things) and we met some of his students who quizzed us about being Americans. Then, we had lunch at a very nice restaurant and they refused to let us pay for our meals. Then, Hans led us up a bell tower for a great view around the area so we could see the vineyard that his in-laws own as well as the rest of the area. Finally, Hans drove us around town to see the area and stopped at his house where his wife had prepared a cake and coffee and we met his three sons and enjoyed their incredible hospitality. Hans had to leave for a church meeting so his wife drove us to the train station so we could catch our train back to Freiburg to where we were staying.
We invited Hans and his family to come see us in Texas someday and they said that would be wonderful but it was doubtful that they could. Plane fares for a family of five is very expensive and traveling as we had was not something they could presently afford. So, we are not able to repay their extravagant hospitality that they had shown to us. But.....we can repay them by showing that same hospitality to others who come in our presence. Some may be visitors such as our German friends whom we cooked for and tried to made them feel welcome in our town. Some may be people we bump into during our daily routine and we take the time to do something for them even though we thought we were too busy to be interrupted. Some may be folks who say they are down on their luck and they need our assistance and we give it even though we wonder if we are being rooked. Hospitality is given where it is needed and at times when it may not be convenient for us to give it. Who knows if our German friend Hans set aside a day to show us his extreme hospitality or if he purposely rearranged his day and put other things on hold just so he could be with us instead? I will never know but he and his family and co-worker made a great impression on me and my wife on that day.
"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." (Hebrews 13:2)
Monday, September 30, 2013
Hand Me Downs
My mother is one of the most frugal people in the world. You and I may call her "cheap", and she is, but she looks at it as being frugal and taking care of what she has so that she will have it longer and it will carry her through the days ahead. She is constantly aware that there may not be anything in the future so you have to use what you have for the greatest good and spend as little as you can on daily life needs. My mom has always looked for bargains and usually will not buy something unless it is on sale. She loves to shop at garage sales and will try to bargain with an owner of an item that is already nearly marked down to nothing.
When I was growing up, my mother would buy groceries at the supermarket by looking at what was on sale. Every item she prepared had to be on sale and what was on sale determined what we had for dinner usually. She also bought "day old bread" at the bread surplus store and shopped the "bent can buggy" at the supermarket to buy dented cans and those without labels (for mystery dinner...we never knew what may be opened so we never knew what would be on the table on those days.)
My mother clothed all of us kids with clothes she found at garage sales and sales at stores too. I remember one year that I needed a new coat for the winter. She looked at the sale ads in the paper and we found store that had coats on sale and we went to look at them. Only after finding a coat that she thought was marked down enough, was I allowed to get a new coat. Luckily, growing up on the Texas Gulf Coast, a coat was not required on too many days so I could coast along without a coat until the right one could be found.
I had an older brother too and received many of his shirts and coats as "hand me downs" to wear now and then if they weren't in too bad condition. I usually had to have "husky" pants and he did not so I rarely got his pants to wear but did get many shirts and a coat or two. Having an older sibling is usually a good thing for many kids because they have a selection of clothes to choose from once the other sibling decides the item is not good enough for them.
A man named Timothy received hand me downs from his mother and grandmother. No, he was not a cross-dresser, this Timothy is the one whose name is on two books of the New Testament and those books are actually letters that St. Paul wrote to him. In the second letter to Timothy, Paul reminds him of the faith he received from his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice. That faith, Paul said, lived in Timothy too and Paul urged him to "rekindle" the gift of God he had received or inherited in his faith journey.
Receiving gifts from our family members can be a good thing, especially if what we receive has great value. The faith traditions we have received from our family of origin can be valued or forsaken. Sometimes those traditions have spoken to us through the past years and still enrich and enable us in our way of life. Sometimes we are not even aware of the effect they have on us until suddenly we are reminded by a song, a verse, an aroma, or something else in our world that speaks to us. We have received those things from our past and now they are part of who we are.
My mother is still with me (she and I are all that remain of my family of origin) and she still shops the garage sales and looks for the ads with coupons in them. I inherited the frugal trait from her too, I have to admit. I always look for a sale and hate to pay full price for anything. Maybe that is not so bad. It helps what you have to go farther. Perhaps there are lessons in life that we have inherited from others that help our lives to be ordered in a way that is helpful to us, even if we hate to admit it.
When I was growing up, my mother would buy groceries at the supermarket by looking at what was on sale. Every item she prepared had to be on sale and what was on sale determined what we had for dinner usually. She also bought "day old bread" at the bread surplus store and shopped the "bent can buggy" at the supermarket to buy dented cans and those without labels (for mystery dinner...we never knew what may be opened so we never knew what would be on the table on those days.)
My mother clothed all of us kids with clothes she found at garage sales and sales at stores too. I remember one year that I needed a new coat for the winter. She looked at the sale ads in the paper and we found store that had coats on sale and we went to look at them. Only after finding a coat that she thought was marked down enough, was I allowed to get a new coat. Luckily, growing up on the Texas Gulf Coast, a coat was not required on too many days so I could coast along without a coat until the right one could be found.
I had an older brother too and received many of his shirts and coats as "hand me downs" to wear now and then if they weren't in too bad condition. I usually had to have "husky" pants and he did not so I rarely got his pants to wear but did get many shirts and a coat or two. Having an older sibling is usually a good thing for many kids because they have a selection of clothes to choose from once the other sibling decides the item is not good enough for them.
A man named Timothy received hand me downs from his mother and grandmother. No, he was not a cross-dresser, this Timothy is the one whose name is on two books of the New Testament and those books are actually letters that St. Paul wrote to him. In the second letter to Timothy, Paul reminds him of the faith he received from his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice. That faith, Paul said, lived in Timothy too and Paul urged him to "rekindle" the gift of God he had received or inherited in his faith journey.
Receiving gifts from our family members can be a good thing, especially if what we receive has great value. The faith traditions we have received from our family of origin can be valued or forsaken. Sometimes those traditions have spoken to us through the past years and still enrich and enable us in our way of life. Sometimes we are not even aware of the effect they have on us until suddenly we are reminded by a song, a verse, an aroma, or something else in our world that speaks to us. We have received those things from our past and now they are part of who we are.
My mother is still with me (she and I are all that remain of my family of origin) and she still shops the garage sales and looks for the ads with coupons in them. I inherited the frugal trait from her too, I have to admit. I always look for a sale and hate to pay full price for anything. Maybe that is not so bad. It helps what you have to go farther. Perhaps there are lessons in life that we have inherited from others that help our lives to be ordered in a way that is helpful to us, even if we hate to admit it.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Snapshots of Life
Another PBS mini-series has captured my attention. This time it is called "Last Tango in Halifax." No, it is not Canadian, it is from the UK. I have watched three episodes of the program and find it interesting and funny and a bit weird, all traits that make for good watching and thought provoking entertainment. The program is about an older man and woman who loved each other 50 years before but married other people. They had children by the others and now are widow and widower. They each live with their grown married children and grandchildren, one in a town and the other out in the country in Yorkshire. They meet again thanks to Facebook and trade many messages and finally decide to meet in person. After their initial meeting, they discover that they are still in love and decide to get married. Their grown children balk at the idea at first but soon realize that they are serious so gradually accept the idea. Both grown daughters are involved in dysfunctional relationships of their own, one with a husband who is having a fling and the other with a much younger man than she is. Grandchildren are involved in the mix and gradually the viewer learns there are many family dynamics at work in the social setting.
Last night the older couple decided they would drive into the city (Halifax I assume) in their new Lexus convertible they decided to buy together rather than get an engagement ring to visit the vicar in the local church because they thought they wanted a church wedding. They sat in the choir area talking quietly about their lives and religion and politics. Their views on many issues were very opposite but they decided they could live together and not agree on everything. They discussed church music and she liked the traditional kind and he said he was open to what she called the "happy clappy" music. The church wedding was far more important to her than him. He said he was not sure he believed in God any longer. She said she would come down the aisle to the song, "Entrance of the Queen of Sheba" and he remarked that would be very appropriate. They had a good laugh; they discussed politics and disagreed on most of it. They they went in to see the vicar.
The vicar (a woman, much to their distress) asked when they had last been in church and the older man said, "Christmas.....about 1977". The woman said that was about the last time for her too. Then, the vicar looked at them both and asked, "Why do you want to be married in the church and have the blessings of God on your marriage when you have not been attending church?" The viewers did not hear their reply because the next scene showed them in their Lexus driving away after calling the vicar a name with the word "bloody" attached to it.
My reaction to this portion of the program was mixed. I have asked that question of persons who came to me wanting a wedding in the church but tried to discuss it with the couple until we could find common ground and have the wedding they wanted in the church. I found the vicar to be a bit judgmental and cold, the caretaker of the church, but not as interested in caring for the souls of those who came to her for assistance. Of course, since England does not have separation of church and state as we do in the US, then going to an Anglican Church to have a wedding is just as much a civil matter as it is a religious one. Persons who are citizens of the UK pay taxes to support the church and deserve services from the church for the taxes they pay. Weddings and funerals are part of the package, along with baptisms---all part of what it means to be Anglican or British.
Against this snapshot of an older couple who has renewed their love and want to begin again are the awful vignettes of their grown children's lives falling apart around them. Each is striving for something they cannot have and doing things they have regretted. Their own children suffer because of their wrong direction in life. With each episode, we are drawn in a bit closer and closer into their daily lives and struggles and we wonder if and when they will ever get their acts together. The older couple seems to have found renewal in the new life they are planning together while their grown children's lives are gradually coming loose at the seams.
It has been said that life is like a stream that takes all of us along with it in its course. We move with it and in it and our struggles bring grief and pain into our lives. It is only when we yield to a power higher than ourselves that we begin to give up the struggle and go with the flow.
What does it mean to be truly happy? How do we achieve happiness in our lives? Perhaps it is in finding something beyond ourselves that we locate the meaning of life.
Last night the older couple decided they would drive into the city (Halifax I assume) in their new Lexus convertible they decided to buy together rather than get an engagement ring to visit the vicar in the local church because they thought they wanted a church wedding. They sat in the choir area talking quietly about their lives and religion and politics. Their views on many issues were very opposite but they decided they could live together and not agree on everything. They discussed church music and she liked the traditional kind and he said he was open to what she called the "happy clappy" music. The church wedding was far more important to her than him. He said he was not sure he believed in God any longer. She said she would come down the aisle to the song, "Entrance of the Queen of Sheba" and he remarked that would be very appropriate. They had a good laugh; they discussed politics and disagreed on most of it. They they went in to see the vicar.
The vicar (a woman, much to their distress) asked when they had last been in church and the older man said, "Christmas.....about 1977". The woman said that was about the last time for her too. Then, the vicar looked at them both and asked, "Why do you want to be married in the church and have the blessings of God on your marriage when you have not been attending church?" The viewers did not hear their reply because the next scene showed them in their Lexus driving away after calling the vicar a name with the word "bloody" attached to it.
My reaction to this portion of the program was mixed. I have asked that question of persons who came to me wanting a wedding in the church but tried to discuss it with the couple until we could find common ground and have the wedding they wanted in the church. I found the vicar to be a bit judgmental and cold, the caretaker of the church, but not as interested in caring for the souls of those who came to her for assistance. Of course, since England does not have separation of church and state as we do in the US, then going to an Anglican Church to have a wedding is just as much a civil matter as it is a religious one. Persons who are citizens of the UK pay taxes to support the church and deserve services from the church for the taxes they pay. Weddings and funerals are part of the package, along with baptisms---all part of what it means to be Anglican or British.
Against this snapshot of an older couple who has renewed their love and want to begin again are the awful vignettes of their grown children's lives falling apart around them. Each is striving for something they cannot have and doing things they have regretted. Their own children suffer because of their wrong direction in life. With each episode, we are drawn in a bit closer and closer into their daily lives and struggles and we wonder if and when they will ever get their acts together. The older couple seems to have found renewal in the new life they are planning together while their grown children's lives are gradually coming loose at the seams.
It has been said that life is like a stream that takes all of us along with it in its course. We move with it and in it and our struggles bring grief and pain into our lives. It is only when we yield to a power higher than ourselves that we begin to give up the struggle and go with the flow.
What does it mean to be truly happy? How do we achieve happiness in our lives? Perhaps it is in finding something beyond ourselves that we locate the meaning of life.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God
Good ole Jonathan Edwards, Puritan preacher from back in the 1700s, one of the most influential persons of the Great Awakening in American religious history---preached his most famous sermon that had the title of today's blog entry. Historians say that as he preached, people would moan and cry out, asking how they could be saved. His sermon, and it was a long one....you can read the entire text in Wikipedia if you desire...depicted God as being angry at sinners, and especially wicked sinners, and having great desire to cast sinners into Hell for all eternity. Edwards preached with great fervor and his listeners could just see themselves being dangled over the flames of Hell as God contemplated dropping them at any moment. He concluded by urging people to "get right with God" (as more modern theologians of a conservative bent have been willing to say.)
I felt the flames of hell surrounding me when I was a mere lad of eight or so. My mother decided that our family needed to attend a very conservative fundamentalist church in the area where we lived, a church of pentecostal-charismatic fervor with plenty of Gospel music and action. The church suited my mom's personality so we were dragged to this church and subjected to their style of religion for all of my formative years, until I could drive and take myself elsewhere, and that happened when I reached college age. Anyway, back to hell fire and damnation---so, one Sunday evening the church we attended decided to put on a play. Now, this was not a Christmas play with angels proclaiming peace on earth and goodwill to men, no this was a scare the living bejabbers play that depicted the doom of humankind. It started out fairly harmless....a mom and her kids are dressed to go to church...she asks her husband to go with her but he does not want to go; he would rather stay home and watch television (a exceedingly terrible sin in the 1960s in ultraconservative circles--our pastor's name for television was "the hell box"---I still call it that today to be funny now and then when nothing good is on it to watch.) So, the mom and kids go off to church and the dad stays home to watch tv and read the paper. So far, so good....but suddenly Jesus returns to take all the righteous people to heaven and the dad does not go because he did not go to church. Instead, the devil (or an actor in a devil suit, but I was an 8 year old, how did I know that?) comes to the house of the dad and picks him up and throws him literally into the hell they prepared behind the altar rail with one of those Christmas spinning lights we had in the 1960s that would shine on aluminum Christmas trees. It was covered with red cellophane paper to make it more red than other colors. The dad being thrown into hell yelled out in pain and cried for mercy but no one would come to his aide, all because he chose to stay home and watch tv rather than go to church. How wicked he was!
So, I remember as the play ended and the pastor pleaded for people to come forward to be saved that I had to go. Everyone thought I was going forward because I loved Jesus and wanted him to save me from my sings. The fact was that I was scared out of my socks and traumatized for years by that experience. I was like the Puritan audience who had to sit through Jonathan Edwards' long sermon, hearing him talk about how God would find great delight in dropping each of them into the fires of hell because of their great sin. I remember being so scared when I went home that I pulled the covers over my head and prayed repeatedly for God to spare me from the fires of hell.
To this day, if I see a church advertising such an event (and there are churches who have them--a popular name is "Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames" in case you see it on a sign), I cringe and want to charge the church with abusive tactics. Mostly, this form of evangelism is popular in the deep South and in very conservative and literal congregations.
I wrestled with the terms "sinner" and "wicked" for many years. I figured I was pretty wicked because I always wanted to do all the things that our church told us we should not do. We were taught not to drink, smoke, curse, dance, watch television, go to movies, go to plays, go bowling, play board games that included dice, play cards, or associate with sinners. So, as a teenager there was little that I could do that was not forbidden by someone. By the time I was 16 and wanted to do all the things that I could not do, I was convinced that I was about as wicked as they came and gave up trying. I sneaked out with my friends and went to movies, lying to my parents about what I had gone. I danced at school dances until I got caught. I said bad words (at least bad for our day). I played cards and games with dice when I stayed over at the homes of friends and my cousins. I did not drink or smoke though because I figured I would have been thrown out of the house if I got caught doing that and had no where else to go. So, I became a wicked teenager, at least in my mind.
Having been away from that church now for many decades, my view of the terms "sinner" and "wicked" has changed. Being a sinner does not have to do with not doing things that a church or pastor forbids. It has more to do with not desiring a better way of life when one knows one exists. A wicked person is far worse then simply one being a "sinner" if one is one. To be truly wicked implies a total disregard for whatever is good or right or noble in life. There are wicked people in the human family and we may ever hear about them on the news now and then. Most of us would not fit in that category though. We know the way to live a good life and we aim at it but we just miss the mark now and then. When we do, we are sorry and try to start over. That is not being wicked....that is being human.
Our world and society is much different from Puritan society of the 1700s. It is ever much different from society of the 1960s. In today's world, individuals decide what is right and appropriate for their lives and the Church and organized religion have little authority in the lives of most people. Some people grant the church some authority in their lives in certain instances but most people, especially in America, want to decide for themselves how to live and what to believe and they are not nearly as liable to have someone scare the hell out of them...or into them as I was at 8 years old.
"Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked; or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers; but their delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law they meditate day and night." (Psalm 1:1-2)
I felt the flames of hell surrounding me when I was a mere lad of eight or so. My mother decided that our family needed to attend a very conservative fundamentalist church in the area where we lived, a church of pentecostal-charismatic fervor with plenty of Gospel music and action. The church suited my mom's personality so we were dragged to this church and subjected to their style of religion for all of my formative years, until I could drive and take myself elsewhere, and that happened when I reached college age. Anyway, back to hell fire and damnation---so, one Sunday evening the church we attended decided to put on a play. Now, this was not a Christmas play with angels proclaiming peace on earth and goodwill to men, no this was a scare the living bejabbers play that depicted the doom of humankind. It started out fairly harmless....a mom and her kids are dressed to go to church...she asks her husband to go with her but he does not want to go; he would rather stay home and watch television (a exceedingly terrible sin in the 1960s in ultraconservative circles--our pastor's name for television was "the hell box"---I still call it that today to be funny now and then when nothing good is on it to watch.) So, the mom and kids go off to church and the dad stays home to watch tv and read the paper. So far, so good....but suddenly Jesus returns to take all the righteous people to heaven and the dad does not go because he did not go to church. Instead, the devil (or an actor in a devil suit, but I was an 8 year old, how did I know that?) comes to the house of the dad and picks him up and throws him literally into the hell they prepared behind the altar rail with one of those Christmas spinning lights we had in the 1960s that would shine on aluminum Christmas trees. It was covered with red cellophane paper to make it more red than other colors. The dad being thrown into hell yelled out in pain and cried for mercy but no one would come to his aide, all because he chose to stay home and watch tv rather than go to church. How wicked he was!
So, I remember as the play ended and the pastor pleaded for people to come forward to be saved that I had to go. Everyone thought I was going forward because I loved Jesus and wanted him to save me from my sings. The fact was that I was scared out of my socks and traumatized for years by that experience. I was like the Puritan audience who had to sit through Jonathan Edwards' long sermon, hearing him talk about how God would find great delight in dropping each of them into the fires of hell because of their great sin. I remember being so scared when I went home that I pulled the covers over my head and prayed repeatedly for God to spare me from the fires of hell.
To this day, if I see a church advertising such an event (and there are churches who have them--a popular name is "Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames" in case you see it on a sign), I cringe and want to charge the church with abusive tactics. Mostly, this form of evangelism is popular in the deep South and in very conservative and literal congregations.
I wrestled with the terms "sinner" and "wicked" for many years. I figured I was pretty wicked because I always wanted to do all the things that our church told us we should not do. We were taught not to drink, smoke, curse, dance, watch television, go to movies, go to plays, go bowling, play board games that included dice, play cards, or associate with sinners. So, as a teenager there was little that I could do that was not forbidden by someone. By the time I was 16 and wanted to do all the things that I could not do, I was convinced that I was about as wicked as they came and gave up trying. I sneaked out with my friends and went to movies, lying to my parents about what I had gone. I danced at school dances until I got caught. I said bad words (at least bad for our day). I played cards and games with dice when I stayed over at the homes of friends and my cousins. I did not drink or smoke though because I figured I would have been thrown out of the house if I got caught doing that and had no where else to go. So, I became a wicked teenager, at least in my mind.
Having been away from that church now for many decades, my view of the terms "sinner" and "wicked" has changed. Being a sinner does not have to do with not doing things that a church or pastor forbids. It has more to do with not desiring a better way of life when one knows one exists. A wicked person is far worse then simply one being a "sinner" if one is one. To be truly wicked implies a total disregard for whatever is good or right or noble in life. There are wicked people in the human family and we may ever hear about them on the news now and then. Most of us would not fit in that category though. We know the way to live a good life and we aim at it but we just miss the mark now and then. When we do, we are sorry and try to start over. That is not being wicked....that is being human.
Our world and society is much different from Puritan society of the 1700s. It is ever much different from society of the 1960s. In today's world, individuals decide what is right and appropriate for their lives and the Church and organized religion have little authority in the lives of most people. Some people grant the church some authority in their lives in certain instances but most people, especially in America, want to decide for themselves how to live and what to believe and they are not nearly as liable to have someone scare the hell out of them...or into them as I was at 8 years old.
"Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked; or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers; but their delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law they meditate day and night." (Psalm 1:1-2)
Monday, August 26, 2013
Standing in the Gap
"And I sought for anyone among them who would repair the wall and stand in the breach before me on behalf of the land..." (Ezekiel 22:30)
When I was young, I remember sitting in the church listening to the preacher and he would be railing against sin and sinners, often becoming very animated and excited. His face would get red and he would be sweating to the point that he would have to wipe his brow and face with a handy towel he kept nearby. This man perspired a lot so after he finished his gospel workout pacing down the aisles and shouting, he would be so wet you dared not give him a hug lest you be inflicted with his sweat. He loved to quote from the Old Testament prophets, especially Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. There is a lot of ammunition in those books that can be aimed at modern persons even as they were at the ancient folk for whom they were intended.
One obscure verse that he pulled out now and then was the one quoted above, except he always quoted it from the King James Version because that was the only one he used and he believed it was the one that God intended for us to use. He railed regularly against the modern versions that those seminaries (except he called them "cemeteries" and said they were full of dead people) and their sort tried to put out to quench out the word of God that is contained in the KJV. So, when he quoted the Ezekiel verse above, I remember him saying, "Who will stand in the gap and make up the hedge?" as a way of trying to get people more involved in the local church.
I may not agree with his theatrics and his sweaty was of preaching but I do agree with his sentiments from Ezekiel that God needs people to be there to help out in many ways....i.e. "to stand in the gap and make up the hedge." Ezekiel was using the metaphor of the wall of protection around the ancient cities and if there was a breach in the wall, people were often needed to stand in that broken place and watch for approaching enemies while repair crews got ready to fix the wall. Often, all that stood between safety and disaster was a good strong wall and it often made all the difference in the lives of ancient people.
We just said goodbye to one more of our older people yesterday, a wonderful man of 88 years who was one of the foundations of our church. He and several others in their 80s and 90s have gone on to be with God this year and we will miss them terribly. They were among the most devoted and faithful members of our congregation. They were almost always present on Sundays and were ready to serve in any way on committees and work groups to get goals accomplished.
So, I began to wonder, as Ezekiel of old did, who will stand in the gap and make up the hedge for our church now that many of those who were so active and supportive of the local church are gone? Who will step up and take their places so that the mission and ministry of the local church can continue? It is hard in this modern age to get church members to even attend church on a consistently regular basis much less serve on committees or work groups to accomplish the goals of the church. Who will carry on in the place of those who have gone on so that we can continue the work that God has called us to do?
There are people in every generation who answer the call to service so we need not fear that it will not get done but we need to continuously pray for God to call and for humans to answer so that God's Will may be done on earth even as it is done in heaven.
The old man Mordecai looked into the face of his niece Esther and said those challenging words, "Who knows if God is not calling you for just such a purpose as this?" That question goes out to every generation of those in the church. God is calling you to service. There is plenty of work to be done. Willing workers are needed to continue the work until the next generation picks up the mantle and carries it on.
When I was young, I remember sitting in the church listening to the preacher and he would be railing against sin and sinners, often becoming very animated and excited. His face would get red and he would be sweating to the point that he would have to wipe his brow and face with a handy towel he kept nearby. This man perspired a lot so after he finished his gospel workout pacing down the aisles and shouting, he would be so wet you dared not give him a hug lest you be inflicted with his sweat. He loved to quote from the Old Testament prophets, especially Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. There is a lot of ammunition in those books that can be aimed at modern persons even as they were at the ancient folk for whom they were intended.
One obscure verse that he pulled out now and then was the one quoted above, except he always quoted it from the King James Version because that was the only one he used and he believed it was the one that God intended for us to use. He railed regularly against the modern versions that those seminaries (except he called them "cemeteries" and said they were full of dead people) and their sort tried to put out to quench out the word of God that is contained in the KJV. So, when he quoted the Ezekiel verse above, I remember him saying, "Who will stand in the gap and make up the hedge?" as a way of trying to get people more involved in the local church.
I may not agree with his theatrics and his sweaty was of preaching but I do agree with his sentiments from Ezekiel that God needs people to be there to help out in many ways....i.e. "to stand in the gap and make up the hedge." Ezekiel was using the metaphor of the wall of protection around the ancient cities and if there was a breach in the wall, people were often needed to stand in that broken place and watch for approaching enemies while repair crews got ready to fix the wall. Often, all that stood between safety and disaster was a good strong wall and it often made all the difference in the lives of ancient people.
We just said goodbye to one more of our older people yesterday, a wonderful man of 88 years who was one of the foundations of our church. He and several others in their 80s and 90s have gone on to be with God this year and we will miss them terribly. They were among the most devoted and faithful members of our congregation. They were almost always present on Sundays and were ready to serve in any way on committees and work groups to get goals accomplished.
So, I began to wonder, as Ezekiel of old did, who will stand in the gap and make up the hedge for our church now that many of those who were so active and supportive of the local church are gone? Who will step up and take their places so that the mission and ministry of the local church can continue? It is hard in this modern age to get church members to even attend church on a consistently regular basis much less serve on committees or work groups to accomplish the goals of the church. Who will carry on in the place of those who have gone on so that we can continue the work that God has called us to do?
There are people in every generation who answer the call to service so we need not fear that it will not get done but we need to continuously pray for God to call and for humans to answer so that God's Will may be done on earth even as it is done in heaven.
The old man Mordecai looked into the face of his niece Esther and said those challenging words, "Who knows if God is not calling you for just such a purpose as this?" That question goes out to every generation of those in the church. God is calling you to service. There is plenty of work to be done. Willing workers are needed to continue the work until the next generation picks up the mantle and carries it on.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Chariots of Fire!
Chariots of Fire--The movie, not the Bible story about Elijah...but they each have a lesson to teach. One is about a prophet who is caught up to heaven in a chariot of fire---Elijah, the prophet who worked miracles, who argued and struggled with kings and queens, who fought against false prophets and won, and then when his work on earth was done he rode in that fiery chariot into the great beyond. He was last seen on the Mount of Transfiguration with Jesus and Moses but he is expected at every Passover Seder each year to sit in an empty chair provided just for him. Once he appears...then the Messiah will come!
The other one, the one who is not Elijah....is a movie, made back in 1981, a movie that won the Academy Award for Best Picture and Best Song that year...."Chariots of Fire". It was about the life of Eric Liddell, a real person from Scotland who was an athlete and Christian missionary. He participated in the 1924 Olympics in Paris but refused to participate when a race was held on Sunday because of his Christian faith. He went on to win the gold medal for the 400 meter race and the bronze medal for the 200 meter race. After that, he returned to his native country and prepared to go to China as a missionary. He served in China until he was captured by the Japanese after they invaded China during WWII and was interned in a prison camp until his death in 1945. His inspiring story was the foundation for the movie.
The hymn, "Jesus Shall Reign" by Isaac Watts was considered to be a missionary hymn in Eric Liddell's day. The story is that as Liddell left the UK to go to China, that he received a huge send-off by many who supported him in many ways. As they gathered to hear him speak one more time before he left, he led them in singing this hymn. The hymn talks about how knowledge of Jesus Christ will spread throughout the world so that all would come to know him. Eric Liddell gave his life in Christian service for the rest of his life, until finally he gave up his life as a prisoner in a foreign land.
Such stories serve to inspire us to greater things in our own lives. Join us this Sunday, August 25, 2013 at Weimar United Church of Christ, as we sing the hymn and hear the story of Eric Liddell and perhaps catch a glimpse of a chariot of fire for our own lives that will carry us to do greater things for God and neighbor for the future. This is the last Sunday of August and it is still cool in our sanctuary, despite the summer heat! See you there!
The other one, the one who is not Elijah....is a movie, made back in 1981, a movie that won the Academy Award for Best Picture and Best Song that year...."Chariots of Fire". It was about the life of Eric Liddell, a real person from Scotland who was an athlete and Christian missionary. He participated in the 1924 Olympics in Paris but refused to participate when a race was held on Sunday because of his Christian faith. He went on to win the gold medal for the 400 meter race and the bronze medal for the 200 meter race. After that, he returned to his native country and prepared to go to China as a missionary. He served in China until he was captured by the Japanese after they invaded China during WWII and was interned in a prison camp until his death in 1945. His inspiring story was the foundation for the movie.
The hymn, "Jesus Shall Reign" by Isaac Watts was considered to be a missionary hymn in Eric Liddell's day. The story is that as Liddell left the UK to go to China, that he received a huge send-off by many who supported him in many ways. As they gathered to hear him speak one more time before he left, he led them in singing this hymn. The hymn talks about how knowledge of Jesus Christ will spread throughout the world so that all would come to know him. Eric Liddell gave his life in Christian service for the rest of his life, until finally he gave up his life as a prisoner in a foreign land.
Such stories serve to inspire us to greater things in our own lives. Join us this Sunday, August 25, 2013 at Weimar United Church of Christ, as we sing the hymn and hear the story of Eric Liddell and perhaps catch a glimpse of a chariot of fire for our own lives that will carry us to do greater things for God and neighbor for the future. This is the last Sunday of August and it is still cool in our sanctuary, despite the summer heat! See you there!
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