Sermons and the Spirit

Recently, as I prepared a sermon about the role of the Holy Spirit, I found myself thinking about how the Spirit works in the process of the preacher preparing and presenting the sermon and in the hearers hearing the sermon. While I work hard at being true to the biblical text I choose, I have learned to accept some unavoidable truths. Sometimes, I miss the mark. Often people hear something other than I preach.

Sometimes a sermon can deal with a whole text as chosen by the preacher. Often, it cannot. In some cases, the chosen text is the sermon or, at least, it shapes the core of the sermon. Any chosen text should inform the sermon; though all preachers, this one included, is capable of choosing a text and springing forth from it, which is not always bad.

In both college and seminary preaching classes, I was taught better. The preacher must be true to the text! In my mind, I can still hear Dr. Ham Kimzey saying that to our class. He was critical of those preachers who chose a text and then “sprang forth from it.” For the most part I agree with my former teacher, who, by the way, was the first honest and consistant liberal Baptist I met. Unlike some liberals, he never hid his light under a bushel basket. He let it shine. As a result, fundamentalist-leaning students sometimes held prayer meetings on his front lawn. Dr. Kimzey thanked them saying, “I need the prayers and you need the practice.” I digress . . .

. . . but that is my point. Spring forth is not always bad. What is always bad is misusing one’s text, using it to say what it does not and cannot say.

Sometimes a text leads one in a direction never intended by the author . . . but perhaps not unintended by God who inspired the author/s and inspires the reader and preacher. Maybe it is a Spirit thing.

It works the same for those who listen to sermons. I am constantly amazed by what others hear in my sermons. Often what they hear is not at all what I said. Did I miscommunicate? In some cases, I am sure I did; but in other cases, I’m not so sure. In some cases, I have come to believe that the Spirit moves in mysterious ways to take the preacher’s sermon as preached and cause it to speak to the needs of those who hear. Surely, in more than some of the cases, for the Spirit do this, there must be some reinterpreting so that the hearer may hear what she needs in and through and in spite of what the preacher actually said.

I don’t always like that what people sometimes hear in my sermon is not what I said; but I have seen lives altered in positive ways by what the hearer heard in what I did not say.

The presence and work of the Spirit in preacher and hearer makes coming to church both safer and more edifying than it might otherwise be. Thus, I pray:

Come, Holy Spirit; dark is the hour.
We need Your filling,
Your love and Your mighty power.
Move now among us; stir us we pray.
Come, Holy Spirit; revive the church today.

A Fish Story

Although it has been a while since I have seen a critique of children’s fairy tales, I am always amused when I do.  Someone occasionally points out how violent and cruel many fairy tales are. This leads to concerns that those poor children forced to hear these tales are being taught to be cruel and violent. 

I’m confused by most of this.  I grew up hearing and reading fairy tales and today own a copy of all of Grimm’s fairy tales.  I am not a pacifist, but I am a long way from being violent or cruel.  Maybe I lacked sufficient cognitive ability to understand these violent and cruel tales.

I also grew up reading the Bible, having received my first when I was five years old—four months before my sixth birthday.  The Bible, unlike the fairy tales, gave me some problems.  It starts off with lies told to God and a brother murdering another brother, and it goes downhill after that.  Violence and cruelty is everywhere, often instigated by God.  Given how much violence and cruelty there is in the Bible, should we prohibit children from reading it?

The problem I had with the Bible was the result of how the Bible was presented.  What I heard from preachers and Sunday school teachers was that everything in the Bible was factually true.  No one ever said that to me regarding fairy tales.  Fairy tales were stories.  There were lessons to be learned from the stories, but they were stories.  The big, bad woof was not disguised as my grandma and waiting just up the road for me. 

Okay, not all the violent and cruel stuff in the Bible is just a story.  Some of it is all too real.  But might it not be helpful for us to acknowledge to children, not to mention adults, that some of the events in the Bible are stories—stories told to get across a very important point?

The saga of Jonah, the reluctant prophet is a case in point.  As a child I was enthralled by it and deeply bothered.  God had a mission for Jonah which Jonah didn’t want to do, and therefore he ran from God.  God, in order to get Jonah, causes a storm (that’s how I understood it) that threatened the lives of an entire ship’s crew.  To save their lives, the crew was willing to kill Jonah.  A big fish swallowed, but did not digest, Jonah and three days later vomited him onto the shore. Jonah did God’s bidding and was mad about it the whole time.  Afterwards, Jonah pouted under a bush that grew up overnight. 

While enthralled by the thought of a man surviving for three days in a fish’s belly, I was bothered by the story that presented God as willing to put other men at peril to get this one man and of men so cruel as to be willing to sacrifice a life to save their own skins.  Even to a child, such images seemed contrary to the image of the God revealed in Jesus.

Then one day college Professor Ham Kimzy said of Jonah, “This is a story.  The truth is not in the facts but in the story.”  With this realization, Jonah took on new interest and importance.

Read the story of Jonah. Skip the sermon, and learn the truth—God has a mission of redemption and invites us to join him in the mission.

Thirty-five Years and Counting

Even as I write it, it seems impossible . . . thirty-five years ago, on Halloween, Donna and I moved from Mount Eden, Kentucky, to Eminence.  On November 1, 1979, I officially became the pastor of Eminence Baptist Church.

Conversation with the church had begun in the summer of 1979.  In the prior months, I had talked with and had contact with several pulpit committees.  None had been a good experience.  Issues of heresy within the Southern Baptist Convention were once again being raised.  Pulpit committees had key questions they used to sort out the “liberals.”  Smart “liberals” were using double-speak—say what the committee wants to hear while remaining true to your own beliefs.  I had played the game, thus skirting issues about biblical inerrancy, salvation, Communion, and women in ministry.  Double-speak was not my way.  So I quit, deciding that a church would either take me for who I was or I would find another way to minister and live.  It was the best decision I ever made.

When the pulpit committee from Eminence Baptist Church contacted me, I was honest.  That committee was chaired by Bob Moore.  He was joined by four other men: Ben Coomes, Andrew Johnson, Edward Mitchell, and Doug Payton.  As conversations continued, it became obvious to the committee that their view of Communion and women in ministry differed significantly from mine. They also suspected that they were a bit more conservative regarding biblical inerrancy than I was.  In our last meeting, Bob Moore raised those issues noting our differences.  Having done so, he said, “We think we want to recommend you to our church; but given our differences on these issues, we want to know how you will handle that should you become our pastor.”  I told them that whenever it was appropriate to speak to those issues, I would be honest about what I believed to be the teaching of Scripture and the leading of God; but that any decision about change would be the church’s decision.

This long journey of a people and their pastor began with honesty.  The journey has not always been smooth; and, in the early years, both the people and the pastor occasionally had doubts about their future.  Today, the doubts are long gone.  We still find ourselves on opposite sides of some issues.  Actually, we now have a congregation composed of members who hold a wide variety of beliefs and interpretations.  The result is that we often disagree among ourselves.  What binds us together is our openness to each other, a commitment that each member has a right to be heard, and our common commitment to Jesus.

I never expected the journey to last this long.  It has and it continues.  Today, I am not so much celebrating thirty-five years as I am celebrating the beginning of my thirty-sixth year as this congregation’s pastor. 

I have been and am blessed to be pastor to the people of Eminence Baptist Church and our community.  Donna and I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

How much longer will the journey last?  The Lord knows . . . and that is enough.

I Don't Like Crowds

I don’t like crowds.

I don’t like being in places that attract crowds.

I don’t like having my name called out time after time by people who need something.

I wonder if Jesus liked crowds . . . or being in places that attracted them.

I wonder if he grew tired of having his name called out by people who needed something.

In days gone by, I’ve read the story of the feeding of the 5000+ and wondered at how so little food could feed so many people . . . and how did Jesus pull it off?  I missed the point.

The miracle was not in the feeding of the 5000+. The miracle was in Jesus caring about them . . . caring enough to come away from his search for solitude to be there . . . there with them . . . here with us.

Multiplying food is no big miracle.

The miracle is in the extending of love and grace.

I don’t like crowds or places that attract them, but I’m headed toward one—one that includes all those who have and are experiencing God’s love and grace.

I don’t like hearing my name called by those who need something; but having been needy and now filled, I pray that I will respond with God’s love and grace.

What choice is there?  The Table is spread . . . the Bread is broken . . . the Cup is spilled out.  upon me and upon all, love and grace has poured down.

I surrender; and in surrender, I find my life.

Christians Behaving Badly

Christians behaving badly is bad business.  If only it were an occasional thing.  The greater problem is that the more we behave badly the more we become something we ought not to be.

It is so easy to be other than we ought to be.  Have you noticed that?  And once we become other than we should have been, it is so easy—and so necessary—to find a way to justify where and why we went wrong. 

As Alexander Pope said, “To err is human; to forgive, divine.”  We can’t help it!  The Apostle Paul admitted as such: “. . . all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God . . .” (Romans 3:23 NRSV).  Thank you, Mr. Pope and Apostle Paul.  We do what we ought not to do and become what we ought not to become because we are human beings who can’t help that we are sinners.  It’s not our fault!  It’s God’s fault. 

We are caught in a never-ending circle of grace.  We sin; God forgives; and the circle is complete.  The more we sin, the more God can and must forgive.  Isn’t it wonderful?  We are merely being who we are, and God is being whom God is, and all is right with the world.  Grace abounds.  Sin more and more grace is dispensed.  Hallelujah and Amen! 

Thus endeth the lesson.  Amen.

Well, there is one tiny other matter.  Paul does say that we all sin.  It is, as Mr. Pope suggested, human nature to err.  Paul, however, had more to say; and Mr. Pope may well have meant more than we take from this oft-quoted line.

Paul states that sin has dominion over us only because we submit ourselves to sin.  We let sin have its way with us.  The solution is to change who has dominion—who rules us.  “Present yourselves to God . . . and present your members to God as instruments of righteousness.  For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under the law but under grace” (Romans 6:13-14 NRSV).  Granted, this is no easy task, but there are great incentives.

To continually follow the way of sin is to court death—death greater than the cessation of life.  The death that ensues from sin is Death with a capital “D.”  On the other hand, to present ourselves to God is to open the door to something greater than ourselves.  It is to open the door to grace—grace that includes forgiveness for our sins but goes beyond.  The grace God offers us is grace that is creative and cleansing. 

God’s grace ushers us through a door labeled “sanctification.”  Sanctification is God’s way of making us into who we were meant to be—children of God, created in God’s image.  Sanctification is not an instantaneous change.  We’re not one thing on one side of the door and other on the other side.  On the other side of the door lies a new way—God’s way as revealed in Jesus.  Passing through the door, we embark on a new journey; and along that journey, we experience the saving grace of God.  We experience sanctification—the gradual process by which we become what God declares us to be, children of God.

Who we are and what we become is largely determined by our choice as to what or who has dominion over our living.

A Prayer on the Day of Pentecost

Almost everyone I know claims to know Jesus. 

Not all who claim to know him also claim to follow him. 

What I’m beginning to wonder is how many who claim to follow him really know him?

In Jesus’ day, some who best understood him chose not to follow him.  They chose not to follow him because they knew that doing so would change them and their way of living; and having that change was not to their liking.

Some who did follow him didn’t really know him.  When some of those discovered who he really was, they went their own way.  Others followed until they began to understand; and having understood, they followed—many unto death.

Not all who seem to understand Jesus and to follow him seem happy about it.  In fact, some of them seem to be the least happy people around.

Some who seem to understand Jesus and to follow him seem to be among the happiest and most content people I know.  In many cases this is true even though their life circumstances lead me to expect them to be anything but happy and content.

What accounts the variety of ways in which people respond to Jesus?

Perhaps the happiest and the most content among us are those who heard the invitation: “Let everyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink.”  Those who drink are drinking in the Spirit of God; and out of them, “will flow rivers of living water.”  The “water” that flows out is the same “water” that flows in.  It is the Spirit of God.

I come . . . I come, O Lord.  Fill me with your Spirit . . . quench the burning thirst of my soul.  Fill me, that from me the rivers of your living Spirit may flow and refresh others.  Amen.

The Darkness of Easter Morning

As I write this, it is almost the morning of the first day of the week.  In just a little while, the women will be going out to the tomb—his tomb.  We men told them not to do it . . . that it is too dangerous; but they aren’t going to listen. 

We tried to tell them that it is over.  We all thought he was the Messiah . . . the Hope of Israel; but he died like any other man put through the torture he had to endure.  It’s over, and there is no reason for them to risk their lives or ours by going back to the tomb to add more spices to his dead body.  What difference can it make?

They will go.  Mary Magdalene can be a persuasive woman.  Yes, they will go; and then they will come running back to us with more tears and tales about how unfair it all is . . .  about how good a man he was.   Life is unfair . . . it always has been for people like us, and always will be.

 
They will go . . . they will see the tomb sealed up and guarded.  What good will it do?

They will go . . . and what good will come of it?

The sun will dawn soon . . . a new day will begin . . . and what difference will it make?

 

What difference, indeed?

In Memory of a Friend

Dr. Ira “Doc” Vinson Birdwhistell died Friday, February 7, 2014.  He was known to his students as “Doc.”  To those of us who met him in an earlier era, he was “Jack.”

Jack Birdwhistell was Dr. E. Glenn Hinson's Garret Fellow at Southern Seminary when I enrolled in 1973. He was my first and one of two of my favorite Church History professors.  Long before Baptist Seminary of Kentucky was needed, Jack was an innovative professor who encouraged us to be both creative and practical in the writing of papers.

 

In the years since seminary, Jack became a friend and a peer. He was one of the first of my peers to affirm my decision to remain the pastor of a small-town church.  As he had been as my seminary instructor, he remained an encouraging and motivating force in my life.  Besides ministry, we shared a passion for baseball and good books.  He was an avid Facebook user, and his use of it enhanced the lives of those of us whom he befriended. 

For the past couple of days, Facebook has been filled with comments by peers, current and past students, and strangers who were introduced to “Doc” via his “Doc’s Books” page on Facebook.  From those who knew him the longest to those who were only recently introduced to him, the comments have been true and very similar.  Jack was Jack and we are blessed to have had him among us.

Reading back through my sermon this morning, I thought about the ways in which Jack’s life, flawed as all lives are, reflected so much of what Jesus urged in his sermon.

• Jack knew his need for mercy; and having received it, he acted mercifully toward others.
• Jack knew his heart; and out of that purity of heart, he drew close to his friends, and particularly to his students.
• Jack was a man of peace . . . at least to be in his presence was to leave more at peace than you came.
• Was Jack persecuted?  Jack would need to answer that, but my guess is that in whatever way he was, he would pass it off as part of life, forgiving those who persecuted him.

In the manner in which we use the word “saint,” Jack was not one, which is why I chose this morning to connect his life with the Beatitudes.  Jesus was not setting goals toward which we should strive.  He was reminding us of a standard to which we are held.  Jack’s life and ministry reminds me that the standards are attainable.

Science vs. Religion

(I wrote this on February 2, 2014 and published it as a Faithful Reader Note, which is a note I include with sermons that are emailed to folks who have signed up to receive my sermons by mail.  A slightly altered version appeared in Faithlab, and another will be published in the Henry County Local newspaper.)

For all my adult life, I’ve begun my mornings with a cup of hot, black coffee and a newspaper.  I may have to give that up for Sunday mornings.  If not, I need to get Donna to pre-read the paper for me and to tell me what articles to skip. 

It was a good morning.  I was sipping my coffee, just after finishing a deliciously sweet grapefruit—a gift from my mother—and enjoying the Sunday Courier-Journal.  The sermon was finished and all that awaited my attention was the writing of this note.  I hardly ever know at 6:00 a.m. on Sunday what I will write.  I just wait until the breakfast routine is over, go up to my study, sit before the computer, and begin to write.  I’m sure, under normal circumstances, I would have written something about the sermon series I’ve begun from the Sermon on the Mount.  Oh, well.

There was an article in the paper about an upcoming debate between “Bill Nye the Science Guy” and Ken Ham of the Creation Museum.  I am so tired of this debate.  It is not new.  It was going on when I was a kid and when my parents were kids and when their parents were kids . . . .  Enough already!

We embrace science on so many levels.  I’m writing on a laptop computer that amazes my simple brain.  Many of you reading this received it in your homes seconds after I pressed “send.”  I can watch the Olympics live from halfway around the world.  With lasers, doctors are now performing surgeries that were unheard of and impossible just a few years ago.  Children are living today who would never have survived birth a few years ago.  All of this made possible by SCIENCE.  But when it comes to understanding beginnings, we don’t want to listen to science.

God gave us brains and surely expects us to use them.  Finding out the how of our origins and the origins of other things is not a threat to belief and faith in a living Creator God.  I am anxious to know what else science can tell us . . . about anything and everything.  But I already know what science can neither prove nor disprove: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.”  I know this through faith manifested in my walk with Jesus.  Oh, I know something else which science can neither prove nor disprove: A “new heaven and new earth is being created," and “behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.”  It’s enough!  Science doesn’t scare me nor threaten my faith.  Science has made and is making my life better.

Why do we spend so much time focused on science vs. religion?  Is it because it is easier to affirm Genesis 1 & 2 than to embrace the hard teachings of Jesus as we find them in the Sermon on the Mount?  Perhaps we think if we make enough noise we will divert attention from the hard sayings of Jesus.  It won’t work.  We are not Christians because we believe and embrace creationism as the only truth of our origins.  We are Christian only to the extent we follow the Christ.

Skip the debate and read the Sermon on the Mount.  The debate will still be going when you are gone, and it will not have aided you in living or in preparing for where you’re going.

 

Troubling Thoughts

I’ve been thinking about Jesus lately.  Not a bad thing for a preacher to be thinking about, right?  I’ve also been thinking about what it means for a person of our time to be a follower of Jesus.  Also, not a bad thing for a preacher to be thinking about, right?

Well, I’m not real pleased with where my thoughts have led me.  Thinking about Jesus and what it means to be his follower, at the same time, has not left me feeling so kindly toward Jesus or myself.  Jesus wants us to love our enemies, bless those who curse us, share our stuff and ourselves with others, forgive others, be a blessing to others, turn the other cheek, and . . . well, he just never quits. 

Were Jesus and his chroniclers around today, his teachings and expectations would surely be different—different as in more fitting to our time.  Surely, the things he said to a poor people in ancient Palestine have nothing really to say to us.  He would understand that without the things we have today, we just can’t make it . . . and not even Jesus could love some of the people with whom we have to deal.

Surely those extremely liberal scholars are right and not all this stuff in the Gospels really comes from Jesus.  Jesus, who loves me and saves me and wants the best for me, really wouldn’t expect me to sacrifice.  After all, he has already paid the price, made the ultimate sacrifice.  I’ve been bought with a price and the rest of life is free.  Hallelujah and Amen!

Listen up.  Do not read Matthew 5-7.  It will mess with your mind.  There is just no way that Jesus could or would have said all that is written in those chapters.  Matthew must have been writing an April Fool’s gospel.

On the other hand, if Jesus really said what Matthew said he said, we “got trouble, my friends, right here, I say trouble, right here in river city.”  When there is trouble, there are a couple of options.  One can take actions to end the trouble, or one can get rid of the troublemaker. The latter is easier. 

Oh, I’m not ready to get rid of Jesus.  I need a savior.  Let’s just do some helpful editing of Matthew’s Gospel—cut out and burn chapters 5-7.  It’s the only sane thing to do.

Final Exam . . . Oh No!

It happened again this past Saturday night. I thought I was past this. It had been a long, long time since it had happened.  I dreamed I was in school and suddenly faced with a final exam in a class I had forgotten that I had.

There were three essay questions.  From the questions, it was obvious this was an American history class.  In my college days, that was the course that was used to weed out those who “didn’t belong in college.”  I can still remember my horror when we covered the entire War Between the States and Reconstruction in the last five minutes of the last class period before the final exam.  The professor, smiled as he said, “This material will be on the final.”  All of this took place in the fall of 1967.

In real life, I was saved by another history class and teacher.  Mr. Deweese, my high school American history teacher, thought he had a responsibility to cover all the course material in the time allotted.  So, we had actually studied the War Between the States, and I had written a paper on the “Reconstruction of the South.”  I passed that college history class because someone else had provided the means for doing so.

In my dream last night, I finally woke up.  It was too early, and I thought about going back to sleep. I can do that.  I chose not to do so because I can also reenter dreams from which I have momentarily awaken.  This was not a dream I wanted to revisit.  So, I got up, had my morning coffee, and said a silent, “Thank you, Mr. Deweese.”

Many of us come to look at life, particularly our lives in relationship to God, in the same manner we look at school.  We see God as the exam-giver, and we keep hoping that by some means we will score high enough to squeeze by with a passing grade.  Perhaps life is a bit like school; but if it is, it is school with a teacher like Mr. Deweese but more so.  Mr. Deweese was not a dynamic teacher, but he was a good teacher.  He was with us each day, and he cared about us, actually wanting us to get what he was teaching us. While he took pride in those students who excelled, he never shied from walking alongside those who were struggling, whose life situations made learning hard.

It dawned on me this morning, that the “Christmas story,” as told in the Gospel of John, is the story of the Teacher who has come to make sure we pass the final exam.  In Christ, we have all we need: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory. . . .  It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.”

This Teacher who has come from God is our hope.  “But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God.”

Should I dream of having to take God's final, I will not fear.  The Teacher, who has come to dwell among us, and I are mastering the course of Life.

Go Gentle into the Night

During my early school years, there were a couple of famous speeches that stuck with me.  In fact, in reading those speeches, I could imagine that I was the speechmaker.  With courage beyond my years, I could exclaim:

Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery?  Forbid it, Almighty God!  I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

 Patrick Henry’s words, spoken on March 23, 1775, were bold words.  As a child, I thrilled to say them and to imagine that I possessed such courage.  As an adult, I came to realize that to say such words was to risk death.  Such a realization causes one to pause and ponder.

 As a young teen, committed to following Jesus wherever He led, I could imagine myself at the end of a long, successful life saying:

 

As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come.  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.  From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.  (Paul – II Timothy 4:6-8 NRSV)

 
I am now about the age Paul was when he wrote those words to Timothy; and I am not ready to depart.  My fight has not always been the best . . . the race is not over . . . and I still have faith to keep.  I’m not ready to die.

I am not ready to die, but I am aware that death will come.  Because of such awareness, I want to live so that when death comes I may die well.  By dying well, I’m not talking about the so-called “good death.”  I’m talking about being at peace with my life at its ending and at peace with the God who has accompanied me for the whole of the journey.

If I can come to that point at peace with myself and my God, I can defy Dylan Thomas and go gentle into that good night.

Bullying Begins at Home

Parents and other concerned adults worry a lot about the things, ideas, and behaviors to which children are exposed.  Parents worry about what their children are hearing and seeing when they are not around to protect and monitor them.

Our children learn to be who they are becoming from a variety of sources—people with whom they associate, places they go, movies they see, sites they visit on the internet, teachers and coaches who guide them, etc.  All of this can’t be controlled 24/7.  What’s a parent to do? 

While not a parent, I am an adult who is concerned about our children.  I see children with good parents from good homes end up in a world of trouble, and I’ve seen children raised in the worst of situations evolve into wonderful, responsible adults.  I know that good parents can have a child that goes in the wrong direction.  What can we do?

If we want our children, our biological ones and those for whom we share responsibility, to grow up to be wonderful, responsible adults, we need to watch what we say and do.  In other words, we need to practice what we what them to learn and copy.  We talk a lot about peer influence. It is not unimportant, but parental influence tops peer influence more often than not.

In recent years, we’ve become much more aware of the problem of bullying in our schools.  Schools and parents across the country are searching for better ways of preventing, identifying, and addressing the problem.  While this is appropriate and necessary, I wonder if we’ve failed to explore where our children learn to bully each other.  I fear it is in our homes.

Young children catch on quickly.  They observe one parent bullying the other.  They watch the same TV programs their parents watch.  They hear their parents talk about other people—too often in demeaning ways, which is a first step toward bullying.  I suppose what I’m trying to say is that adult bullying becomes the pattern for the bullying that goes on among our children.

Here is something else I’ve observed.  Children who grow up in homes where respect for others is practiced and preached are more likely to grow up respecting others.  The problem with practicing what we preach is that we must be consistent.  Children are quick to catch on.  Daddy is nice to Mommy and the neighbor to the right, but he talks really bad about the neighbor who lives on the left.  Mommy is so sweet when she meets Mrs. Smith at the store, but you ought to hear her on the telephone talking to her best friend about “old Mrs. Smith.”

Politics is one area of our lives that may be a real breeding ground for bullying and other inappropriate behavior.  Adults often say things about the mayor, the governor, and/or the president that they would never say about others.  Search for political cartoons about presidents and you will discover some of the most vindictive and bullying statements around.  What are we teaching our children when we publicly degrade our elected officials?  What might our actions say to our children if we were to follow the guidelines in I Timothy 2?  That is the focus of the sermon—how we are to respond to leaders and everyone else.  If we want our children to respect authority, perhaps we should invite them to join us in praying for the mayor, the governor, and the president—and perhaps for the pastor. 

Dad's Prophecy

Faithful Readers,

Many years ago, my dad said something to me that sounded preposterous.  “It won’t happen in my lifetime,” he said, “but in yours the kind of violence we’re seeing in poor countries will be happening here.”  He said he believed this because we were a country in which the rich were getting richer and the poor were getting poorer.  “The day will come when those who have been disenfranchised will take to the streets,” he added.

While none of us are rich by the standards of the truly rich, most of us are rich when compared to the very poor; and we are very rich compared to the poor of the world.  We have more than adequate food and shelter, and we have access to the medical care we need.  Comfortable in our sufficiency, it is easy to see the poor around us and declare them to be poor because they are lazy.  “Why,” we declare, “if they would get off their backsides and get jobs they could have a decent living.”

We’re still buying the “American dream”—that any poor person can rise to riches if he/she is just willing to work.  The “dream” is still believable because occasionally there is a poor person who does rise to riches.  Most sink into deeper poverty.

I recently sat in a neatly kept home of a very poor person. The person is disabled. Oh, this person could do some types of work, but because of the disability, he can’t do anything that requires him to stand or be mobile.  If work were available, he would be unable to take it.  He has no means of transportation.  If he could qualify for a job, it would be a minimum wage job with no benefits.  While he only draws $710.00 a month plus $200 in food stamps, he does have a medical card.  Of course, he seldom uses the card because he has no ready means of getting to and from his doctor’s office; and if medicines are prescribed, he never has enough money to cover the full costs.

Our government spends billions on wars in other places, depleting our national resources while increasing our national debt. In the process, we create more enemies than friends.  What if war-money were spent on health and human needs for people of the poorer nations of the world?

Here in Kentucky, we spend millions of dollars to purchase and maintain pristine forest lands while destroying other lands and displacing people to obtain fuel.  I not a simpleton.  I know there are no easy answers as to how to meet the needs of society and protect both people and environment; but there is still something wrong about this.

I raise these issues only because they contribute to the growing distance between the rich and the poor in our own society.  I raise these issues because I fear that we’ve forgotten that God loves all people and that God expects all people to work for the good of each other and to care for creation.  I raise these issues because God has never looked with favor on the rich who exploit the poor or on those who neglect God’s expectations.

God’s judgments never come falling upon us from above.  They arise from the chaos we create.  It was so in Jeremiah’s, and it is so in our day.

I pray my dad’s prophecy will be proven to have been wrong; but I fear that unless we hear the call of God as spoken by Jeremiah (4:1-2), it may be dead right.

Communion

Sunday was Communion Day for us.  I must not be a good Baptist.  I would enjoy Communion each Sunday.  Since we only celebrate Communion six times per year in our church, we try to make those services special. 

It occurs to me that through the gift of our minds and imagination, Communion can be a daily experience.  Close your eyes and come to the Table through your imagination and memory.
 

See the Table before you.

            Smell the Bread and the Juice/Wine.
                        See the hands that serve you.
                                    Feel the texture of the Bread you hold.
                                                Feel the temperature of the glass you hold.
                                    Take and eat the Bread . . . His body.
                      Take and drink the Cup . . . His blood.
            See the people around you . . . sisters and brothers all.

Do all this In Remembrance

            In remembrance of what He did.
                        Of who He was and is.
            Of who you are in Him.
In Remembrance, that we may live today toward tomorrow.

At His Table and from the bounty of His Grace, we leave the Table and move into our world to be, amazingly, His Body.

What other miracle do we need than the one of us becoming His Body?