The Fiscal Clif and a Promise

The fiscal cliff lies just ahead. While the people of the nation rush toward it, their government leaders draw lines in the sand and play double-dog-dare-you games with each other. Those who play the games have secure jobs, secure pensions, and a nice financial cushion—just in case the voters should choose not to reelect them at some point in the future. They play their games with those of us in the trenches always gladly throwing in the “ante” to keep the pot going.

 

What are we to do? Some“prophets” tell us that the cost of going over the fiscal cliff will be a return to recession with more job losses and less income for all of us—well, for all of us without special interest groups who will keep our treasuries filled. Others tell us that going over the cliff will actually turn out to be a good thing. (Is this not close to calling good evil and evil good? Jesus seemed to have something to say about that. Oh, well, what does Jesus know?)

 

What are we to do? Well, I am not one to go over the fiscal cliff, or any other cliff, silently. I will be screaming all the way there, over, and to the bottom. The President and members of Congress need to own the task of governing for the good of all. Those who don’t will not have my support or my vote.

 

I shall do more. I shall remember that it was not a president or a congress who said, “Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11 KJV). It was a messenger from God.

 

I long for an equitable tax code, for justice for all, and for an end to the greed and envy which eventually leads to war and death. But my hopelies in the Christ whose love led him to take upon himself the sins of the world—mine, yours, the president’s, and those of congress.

 

While living to make our world a better place and while striving to hold elected officials accountable to govern for the good of all, I hold to the Christ celebrated in Advent—the One who is our HOPE . . . LOVE . . . JOY . . . PEACE. Because the Christ is all this and more, I will cling also to the promise made though Isaiah (2:2-4, ESV) long, long ago:

 

It shall come to pass in the latter days
that the mountain of the house of the Lord
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
and shall be lifted up above the hills;
and all the nations shall flow to it,
and many peoples shall come, and say:
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob,
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths.”
For out of Zion shall go the law,
and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations,
and shall decide disputes for many peoples;
and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war anymore.

 

 

The Gift of Christmas

It’s December and Christmas is just around the corner!  Most folks are scrambling to get it all together before the big day arrives and praying that they can keep themselves together until torn wrapping paper is thrown out, the leftovers are distributed to guests and sent away, and they can fall peacefully into bed. It is such a wonderful, crazy time of the year.

As a pastor, I’ve been encouraging folks to celebrate Advent (that special time of the year in the church that includes the four Sundays before Christmas).  If we could get Advent right, we might discover a means of keeping “Christ” in Christmas. 

Alas, the Season of Advent is out of date!  It is, after all, a season of anticipation marked by expectant waiting!  Waiting!  Who has time to wait?  Even if one has the time to wait, why wait?

Even with a broken economy, we have at our disposal the means to have what we want NOW!  I have access to over $30,000 in instant money.  Three little plastic cards grant me the privilege to claim ownership immediately of whatever I can buy within those limits.  And that does not count what I might be able to borrow to purchase a new car or a house.  Wait!  Why and for what?

There are, of course, a few people still around who dare to believe and to preach that “all good things come to those who wait.”  But let’s face it.  Such people are really behind the times. 

God is behind the times . . . and for this we should give thanks.  Time moves as it moves.  Things come and things go.  Plants emerge from the soil, bloom, produce fruit, and die.  Babies are born, grow and mature, produce fruit, and die.  Knowledge and wisdom come in small doses over time.  The New Testament even reports that the long-awaited Messiah came only in the “fullness of time” (See Galatians 4:4).  God is behind the times and that is our only source of Hope.

The One who came in the fullness of time promised that he would send his Spirit as our constant companion and that in time (the fullness of God’s time) the day would come when the kingdom would be fulfilled.  For this, the best we can do is wait . . . understanding that this calls for expectant waiting.

There is good news about this waiting.  What is promised—the Spirit and the fulfillment of the kingdom—is prepaid by the Giver of all good gifts.  Our task is to wait expectantly—to live as righteously as we can, to be diligently honest with ourselves, and to face the present knowing that the future includes a kingdom fulfilled.

The season of Advent is not out of date.  It is dateless.  It is for all time.  We’ve been given a promise . . . a promise marked by Hope, Love, Joy, and Peace.  Come!  Gather around the Advent wreath and its candles.  Watch as candles begin to burn and give off their light week by week.  In Jesus there is Hope . . . there is Love . . . there is Joy . . . and there is Peace. All of that is the gift of the Christ to us.  We need only to embrace the promise.

Behold . . . “the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:14).  The greatest Gift of Christmas will not be under a tree.  It will be found in a cradle and on a cross.  His name is Jesus.

The "Truth" that Drives What I Do

Donna and I just returned from a fast trip to Missouri and Tennessee to see our mothers.  We give thanks for them, for our siblings who live near them, and for the joy of being with them.  Five days and 1,070 miles later, we walked back into our house about 5:30 pm Saturday.

Today is too full of activities.  There is church, of course.  But before church begins, I have an appointment with one of our wonderful college students who wants to interview her pastor.  After church, I head immediately to a local funeral home to meet with family and conduct a funeral.  While I normally meet with the family before the day of the funeral, that was not possible in this case.  Donna will be headed in another direction to participate with our choir in a community talent showcase.  Late in the afternoon, we will both show up back at the house.  Whew!!

It’s days like today that remind me how important it is to know why we do what we do.  If I had my druthers, the day would not be so filled up.  After all, isn’t Sunday (Sabbath for Christians) supposed to be a day of rest?  I could have avoided some of today’s events.  I didn’t have to meet with the college student.  She would have understood.  I didn’t even have to do today’s funeral.  The deceased is not a member of our church.  So, why do it all?

I’ll do these things because I can and because it is a way of being the presence of Christ to those who need part of my time and part of me today.  I’ll do it because I’ve already invested 18 years in the college student and today’s hour is but an extension of that relationship.  I’ll do it because the deceased wrote my name down as a preacher whom he wanted to assist his pastor.  (As it turns out, I will be standing in for his pastor who is out of state.)  I’ll do it because the deceased was a patient at the local nursing home where I serve as chaplain and his wife remains a patient there.

I’ll do it because Jesus came among us as the presence of God, revealing to us that which we would never have known had he not come.  I’ll do it because unto the least of these (me chief of the least) Jesus extended presence, love, and grace, and because he bids me do the same.

Like Jesus (even more so), I will need some rest.  I can’t be present to all people all the time.  As it did for Jesus, time for rest will come. 

Because Jesus is who Jesus is, we do in his name what we can for others when doors open. 

It is the knowing of the Truth that precedes and leads to the doing of what we do in Jesus’ name.  Knowing the truth always comes first.

Moving to the "Big Table"

Have you seen the TV commercial that shows the family gathered for Thanksgiving?  The adults are seated in one room around the “big table,” and the children are seated around card tables in an adjacent room.  For one of the children, the long-awaited day finally comes.  He is invited to move from the children’s card table to the “big table.”  It is a move toward manhood, to shaving, driving, and staying up past midnight.  Then back at the children’s table the Thanksgiving dessert offering is being topped with Reddi-wip.  The boy moves back to the children’s table and announces, “I learned something that day. Being an adult is overrated.”

Who among us has not on occasion longed to return to the wonder years of childhood?  Julia, a friend Donna and I knew during our seminary days, remembered those days and spoke of returning to them.  On those rare weekends when she and her husband Bill could make the trip back to their homes, Julia would speak of those places “as the land of plenty where soda pops and candy bars are free.”  Even for those of us who did not grow up in plush surroundings, there was so much that was “free” during our childhoods. 

My childhood was a grand time. I had good shelter and plenty of good food.  Clothes hung in my closet and were stacked in the chest-of-drawers.  I had shoes on my feet and a pair or two to spare.  I had a tricycle; and before I was old enough to drive, I was the proud owner/rider of three bicycles (a small 20-inch with training wheels; a 1957 Western Flyer, for which I would give my eyetooth to have today; and a three-speed English Racer).  Dad even handed me the keys to a new Cushman Silver Eagle motor scooter when I was too young to be licensed to ride it.  I was introduced to books and the joy and wonder of reading.  I was able to participate in extra-curricular activities at school.  I was given the opportunity to attend a private Baptist college.  Though my parents were not rich, my childhood was filled with rich blessings. 

I’m thankful for all that stuff and the books and the education.  (You do understand that books and education are not “stuff,” don’t you?)  I’m thankful for it all.  But do you know what I am most thankful for?  I am most thankful for afternoons sitting at the kitchen table talking to mom about the day at school.  I am most thankful for those days I rode with Dad in his pickup truck, got in his way when he was building houses, and learned from him how to drive a tractor and be useful on the farm.  I am most thankful for those moments when in my parents’ eyes I saw their pleasure in who I was.

Many years later I still have stuff—and books!  I am thankful for a wonderful childhood, but I don’t want to go back.  Being grown up, being at the “big table” is not overrated.  Being at the “big table” means finally being old enough to know that the real blessings come from relationships with people and with the God who grants and sustains life.

I like being a grownup.  I like being a grownup and knowing that in the eyes of God I am still a child.  As God’s child, I’m still learning, still growing.  From this vantage point, I can see the “Big Table.”  I’m watching, knowing that one day in the future, I’ll see the Father nod, and I will be invited to join those already at the “Big Table.” 

Until the nod comes, I’ll gladly stay at the children’s table; but when the nod comes, no amount of Reddi-wip, or real whipped cream like Donna makes, will entice me back.  I give thanks to know I am a child of God.

The Dawning of Year 34

Tomorrow (November4) will mark the beginning of my 34th year as pastor of Eminence Baptist Church.  Had anyone told me in November of 1979 that I would still be here in November of 2012, I would have laughed.  Today, I can't imagine being anywhere else.

Both the church and the community opened their hearts and arms and welcomed Donna and me; and through their continued openness, they have made this church and this community our home.  I knew in November of 1979 that coming here was the right thing, that it was in accordance with God's will for my life and ministry.  After 33 years, I know with assurance that this is where I belong.

A pastoral tenure of this length is unusual.  It has been possible because of three things: (1) God's blessing and guidance for the church and for me; (2) a good beginning made possible by the good work of the Pastor Search Committee, chaired by Mr. Robert W. Moore, now deceased; and (3) the mutual trust and respect that exists between this church and its pastor.  To the extent that churches and pastors are open to God's blessing and guidance, such comes to all.  The other two things require patience and hard work.

In 1979, the Pastor Search Committee (Robert Moore [deceased], Ben Coomes, Andy Johnson [deceased], Edward Mitchell [deceased], and Doug Payton) had done good background work before they ever contacted me.  Once they contacted me to ascertain my interest in moving, they worked with patience, prudence, and persistence over several months of dialog.  They were open and honest with me about the church.  When I arrived, I found it to be the church they described.  They knew its strengths and weaknesses and shared both with me.  For my part, I was open and honest about who I was, how I viewed my call to ministry, and what I believed.  Quite frankly, I feared that my honesty, particularly about my beliefs regarding Scripture, communion, baptism, and women in ministry, would lead to an early end of our conversation.  There were significant differences in where I stood on these issues and where the church stood. 

In our last meeting before the committee decided to recommend me to the church, Bob Moore said to me. "Michael, we think we want you to be our next pastor, but there are some major differences in some of the things you believe and what we believe.  If you were to be our pastor, how are you going to handle these differences?"  I told the committee that when it was appropriate to address those areas, I would be open and honest as to what I understood to be the truth.  I added that I would expect the same from the church, and that the church would chart its own direction, noting that I would never attempt to be the dictator of church policy.  They recommended, the church called, and I came.

Over the first three to five years, the church and I learned to trust and respect each other.  We spoke plainly to each other, being sure that no one's voice was silenced because of what he/she believed and spoke.  The result has been that we have shaped each other as we have reshaped the character of our church.

Today our congregation affirms the responsibility of each member to read and interpret Scripture.  We hold the Scripture in holy regard, seeing it as the Written Word of God that reveals God's working with humankind from the beginning of time and that it reveals to us the Living Word of God who is Jesus the Christ.  We affirm it as God-inspired and use it as the guide for becoming a people of God in this place.  We have in our congregation persons who interpret Scripture differently than do others, and we welcome others; but we insist that all who unite with us must respect and honor each other as children of God.  We understand that the Word of God is deep and rich and needs many minds and hearts to discern its riches.  Together we are better equipped to do such discerning than were we bound by one interpretation handed down to us.

Communion is now open.  Those present when the service of Communion is offered are invited to the Lord's Table.  Given that Jesus welcomed Judas to his table, we are not threatened by any who come to His Table in our church.

In 1979, baptism by a Baptist preacher in a Baptist church (creek, pond, river) was the only baptism recognized as truly authentic.  Today we welcome any baptized believer that is led to join our faith community.  We affirm baptism of believers by immersion. Barring physical limitations of a new believer, it is the only mode of baptism we practice. When persons who come from traditions that practice a different mode of baptism wish to join our church, we encourage them to consider the option of being immersed; but if they see their prior baptism as complete, we will honor it as such and welcome them.

Our church has become one that affirms women in all areas of the church's ministry.  We have had ordained women on staff and have ordained.  We have women deacons.  Donna, my wife, is one of them and currently is serving as the Deacon Chairperson.

None of these changes were forced by me.  When each came, none proved divisive. The changes emerged out of our study of Scripture and our prayerful attention to the moving of the Spirit among us. 

To be part of a community of faith that is unafraid to seek and follow the Spirit in its work and ministry is one of life's richest blessings.  I am blessed beyond measure.

Year 34 begins.  Where will the journey end?  Only God knows.  Until that time, I give thanks for this people who have allowed Donna and me to be with them the people of God in this place, and I carry on the gift of ministry that is mine with the people of Eminence Baptist Church.

Thanks be to God. 
   

Children and Funerals

I first saw the little boy about thirty minutes before the funeral was scheduled to begin.  I guessed him to be six or seven years old.  He was standing at the edge of the chapel, looking toward the open casket.  As I watched, he slowly approached the casket where his mother stood looking at the body of her father.

“I thought you were with your dad,” the mother said.

“I was, but I wanted to see Grandpa.”  His mother, tears in her eyes, put her arm around her son and together they looked at the man who each had known all their lives. 

 

“He looks nice,” the boy said.

“He does,” the mother replied. “He always did.  He liked looking nice.”  She then whispered something to her son which I couldn’t hear.  He walked away.

A few minutes later, I saw him approach again.  His mother had moved away for the moment.  A man the boy didn’t know was at the casket.  They looked at each other, and then the boy said, “He looks like he’s sleeping, but he’s dead.  It’s not really him anymore.  He’s gone to heaven.”  Having explained this, the boy rejoined his dad.

During the funeral service, the boy watched me intently as I spoke about his grandpa and of God being present with us even in moments of our deepest grief. 

At the graveside service, the boy stood quietly beside his mother and dad.  As we waited for others to join us , I noticed the boy trying to see under the casket and behind it.  His mother gently reminded him to be still. He was until I finished the prayer which closed the graveside service.

His mother’s momentary tears gave him the opportunity to slip from her side.  He approached the casket and knelt to look under it.  His mother spied him and called out, “You need to come on.  You’re going to be in the way.”

“It’s okay,” I told her.  I knelt beside him and asked, “What were you trying to see?”

“That’s where they’re going to put grandpa’s body.  Right?”  I told him that was right.  Then, pointing to the bottom of the grave, he asked, “What’s that thing down there?”

“That’s the bottom of something called a vault.” I told him.  I then took him around behind the grave so that he could see the lid of the vault.  I explained that his grandpa’s casket would be lowered into the bottom portion and then the lid would be placed on top.

“So, the casket won’t get dirty, will it?”  With that, he was off to rejoin his parents.  He just wanted—and dare I say needed—to know.

In the course of my forty plus years as a pastor, I’ve seen children handled in a variety of ways whenever death touched their families.  Some parents have kept them away.  For these children, a loved one will have mysteriously slipped away.  Some parents allowed them to come and, unintentionally I trust, have given less than helpful information.  For instance, I’ve heard parents tell a child that the deceased “is just asleep.”  Such children will soon wonder just how safe going to sleep is.  I’ve seen parents force children to look in the casket when they obviously didn’t want to do so or were not quite ready to do so.  Such an action is traumatizing for both children and adults. 

Thankfully, there are also those wonderful parents who seem instinctively to know that children need to be around the funeral home and the funeral service.  They need simple explanations, which require parents to listen in order to discover what children actually want to know.  Answering questions they are not asking is of little help.  Ignoring the questions they are asking is even less helpful.  The little boy I observed may have said to his mother, “Is grandpa sleeping?” To which she may well have replied, “He looks like he’s sleeping, but he’s dead.  It’s not really him anymore.  He’s gone to heaven.”  It was a good response.

One of the great values of children being allowed to participate in funeral visitations and services to the extent they desire to do so is that they get to see adults, particularly their parents and immediate family members, reacting to loss and grief.  It is an act of modeling.  A child sees his dad or mother weeping and learns it is okay to weep.  She sees them weeping one minute and laughing another and learns that it is okay to be both sad and happy.  Children learn to handle death in the same way they learn so many other things—by watching the adults who are responsible for their upbringing.

But aren’t some children too young to bring to the funeral home?  Perhaps some are; but if children are old enough to miss the deceased and the deceased has been a central part of their lives, they are going to grieve and have lots of questions, whether they ask them or not.  Being present at the funeral visitation and service affirms their place with their family.  It may lead to more questions, but those questions will be better ones than the ones that may rise from a child’s imagination.  Children, like adults, will try to make sense of death.  If children are involved in the rituals that surround death, they have a better chance of making good sense.

More important than a child’s age is the manner in which they are treated by the primary adults in their lives.  When it comes to approaching the casket or putting a note or some gift in the casket, children need to be allowed to determine their actions and set their own pace.  This is one place where children of any age should not be forced to do what they do not want to do.  It is one thing for a parent to encourage a child to come with him/her to the casket.  It is quite another for a child to be forced to do so.

The little boy I observed just wanted to know.  When he had his answers, he was ready to move on.  I’m sure he had more questions in the days and weeks to come; but because he was present and his initial questions were addressed, he left knowing that questions were okay.

We can’t protect children from the grief of loss that accompanies the death of a loved one.  We can and should welcome them to share in our rituals of remembrance and grief.