The Fourth Day

As Cursillo ends, they begin to talk about the Fourth Day. You see, Cursillo is a retreat that lasts 3 days, and the Fourth Day is that part of your life that you step into when Cursillo is over. I've done a lot of thinking about what that means.

Cursillo is a coccoon. From the moment you arrive, you are served for, loved, protected, and nurtured in body, soul, and spirit.

For me, it began when I had to get into someone else's car for the ride up there. I had to separate myself from even my car (which is not easy). There was no escape route for me. But it was also a great transition. It gave me time to wind down my thoughts of home and spend a few moments thinking about the adventure ahead.

Conversely, on the way back after such a mountaintop experience, it allowed me a few moments to think transition back to "the real world" and all the responsibilities awaiting me.

So while I had Monday off from work, there was still laundry, and school, and kids, bills to be paid, and the dog to be picked up from the kennel, and the Amish Friendship Bread that had to be baked before it exploded in the kitchen. And today was back to work.

So now comes the hard part - living out my renewed committment.

We can always pretend to be perfect Christians. And we would always be wrong.

We should strive to live into the lives that God has for us, but the reality is that our Christian lives are a continuum. We often spend more time looking towards the altar than on our knees in front of it.

God help us to stay at the altar, and not outside the door.

anything but typical


Somewhere In The Middle by Casting Crowns 2007

Somewhere between the hot and the cold
Somewhere between the new and the old
Somewhere between who I am and who I used to be
Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me

Somewhere between the wrong and the right
Somewhere between the darkness and the light
Somewhere between who I was and who You're making me
Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me

Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender
Without losing all control

Fearless warriors in a picket fence,
reckless abandon wrapped in common sense
Deep water faith in the shallow end
and we are caught in the middle
With eyes wide open to the differences,
the God we want and the God who is
But will we trade our dreams for His
Or are we caught in the middle

Somewhere between my heart and my hands
Somewhere between my faith and my plans
Somewhere between the safety of the boat and the crashing waves

Somewhere between a whisper and a roar
Somewhere between the altar and the door
Somewhere between contented peace and always wanting more
Somewhere in the middle You'll find me

Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender
without losing all control

Fearless warriors in a picket fence,
reckless abandon wrapped in common sense
Deep water faith in the shallow end
and we are caught in the middle
With eyes wide open to the differences,
the God we want and the God who is
But will we trade our dreams for His
or are we caught in the middle

Lord, I feel You in this place and I know You're by my side
Loving me even on these nights when I'm caught in the middle

Beggar Lice and other sticky situations

I don't know what people in other places call them, but here in South Georgia, we call them beggar lice. The inventors of Velcro must have had these things in mind.

These things are little tiny seed pods that stick onto everything they touch. They aren't prickly like sand spurs, but they are invasive weeds and easily contaminate other areas.

Thursday night, they were God's object lesson for me.

I spent the last weekend at Cursillo#111. For those of you who don't know, Cursillo is a short intensive course in Christianity. It is more of an experience than an event, and if you ever have the opportunity to go, take it. Thursday evening was the first night of the retreat and we talked about sin and confession. I sat there thinking that I don't really have anything to drag myself to confession for (or what the Episcopal Church calls the Rite of the Reconciliation of a Penitent). I wasn't feeling smug or anything, not holier-than-thou, just "prayed up". My Baptist friends and readers know what I mean.

After the completion of Compline (the last evening service), Kenny and I walked back through the darkness lit by our flashlight. He went to his room and I went to mine.

As I was getting ready for bed, I saw them - beggar lice - on the hem of my jeans. There's only one way to get rid of them. You have to pick each one off by hand. You can't shake them off and get rid of them at once. Each one requires your attention. They can't hurt you, but if you take one of them home, they'll take over your whole yard.

How often do "little sins" fill up and ruin our lives? How many times have we called ourselves "confident" when really we were prideful? How about "self-assured" when really we were arrogant? How often has "me time" really been about selfishness and not about nurturing?

How many of these little things are we dragging though our lives spreading the infestation as we go?

As I stood at the bathroom sink picking the beggar lice off my pants, I though about how much it was like Confession. It's easier to ask forgiveness for infractions of the "Big 10" - they are more obvious and painful. But how often do we take the time to sit down and root out the other sins.

One of the prayers for after Communion, includes the line:

And Father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do (BCP p 366)

Maybe, part of that work is getting rid of our own spiritual beggar lice.


anything but typical



Whiter Than Snow (1872 by James Nicholson, Music by William G. Fischer)
http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/w/h/i/whiterts.htm

Lord Jesus, I long to be perfectly whole;
I want Thee forever to live in my soul.
Break down every idol, cast out every foe;
Now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Refrain
Whiter than snow, yes, whiter than snow.
Now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Lord Jesus, let nothing unholy remain,
Apply Thine own blood and extract ev’ry stain;
To get this blest cleansing, I all things forego—
Now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Refrain

Lord Jesus, look down from Thy throne in the skies,
And help me to make a complete sacrifice.
I give up myself, and whatever I know,
Now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Refrain

Lord Jesus, for this I most humbly entreat,
I wait, blessèd Lord, at Thy crucified feet.
By faith, for my cleansing, I see Thy blood flow,
Now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Refrain

Lord Jesus, Thou seest I patiently wait,
Come now, and within me a new heart create;
To those who have sought Thee, Thou never saidst “No,”
Now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Refrain

The blessing by faith, I receive from above;
O glory! my soul is made perfect in love;
My prayer has prevailed, and this moment I know,
The blood is applied, I am whiter than snow.

Refrain

The Measure of a Man

My son, a 15-year old soon-to-be Eagle Scout, is wiser than most adults sometimes. While listening to an NPR piece about the effect the Michael Vick scandal will have on the Falcons team, he told his Dad, "They might not find a better quarterback, but they can find a better man."

You see, David is surrounded by men who live their lives honorably. He has seen positive examples of manhood.

My husband's late father was one of them. He was 20-year Navy man who loved his family more than anything else. He had a sharp temper and a wicked sense of humor. He was occasionally very rough around the edges, and softened by the love and influence of Kenny's mother. He loved being a police officer, but took a job at the post office because he needed to better support his family. He was a man who always tried to do the right thing regardless of the cost or how much easier the wrong thing would have been. He was a man who was changed for the better because of the presence of God in his life.

My Dad is a minister. He was a supervisor in the electrical department at the paper mill to pay the bills, but "minister" defines who he is. He is a gentle soul, kind, compassionate, unwavering in his faith, wise, soft-spoken. I can't tell you how many people I've met, who say, "Yes, I know your Dad. He is such a good man." He lives his life in service to others and to God.

There are others in David's life - scoutmasters, clergy members, teachers, friends - but most of all, David watches his Dad. He sees Kenny's faithfulness to our family and to his faith. He sees Kenny's stubborn refusal to compromise on issues of importance. He sees Kenny lovingly indulge my whims and eccentricities. He is able to articulate his beliefs, and often has discussions with others about what we believe.

I am fortunate enough to now have been married half my life to my best friend. Twenty years ago today, I vowed to submit myself unto him as unto the Lord, and he promised to love me as Christ loves the church and give his life for me. Although I have not always managed my part well, I have never regretted it.

Happy Anniversary, Kenny!

anything but typical



A Few Good Men by Bill Gaither


What this dying world could use is a willing Man of God
Who dares to go against the grain and works without applause;
A man who'll raise the shield of Faith, protecting what is pure;
Whose love is tough and gentle; a man whose word is sure.

God doesn't need an Orator who knows what just to say;
He doesn't need authorities to reason Him away;
He doesn't need an army to guarantee a win;
He just needs a Few Good Men.

Men full of Compassion, who Laugh and Love and Cry-
Men who'll face Eternity and aren't afraid to die-
Men who'll fight for Freedom and Honor once again-
He just needs a Few Good Men.

He calls the broken derelict whose life has been renewed;
He calls the one who has the strength to stand up for the Truth.
Enlistment lines are open and He wants you to come in-
He just needs a Few Good Men.

Men full of Compassion, who Laugh and Love and Cry-
Men who'll face Eternity and aren't afraid to die-
Men who'll fight for Freedom and Honor once again-
He just needs a Few Good Men.

Staring into the Sun

From Simply Christian by N.T. Wright:

A great many arguments about God - God's existence, God's nature, God's actions in the world - run the risk of being like pointing a flashlight toward the sky to see if the sun is shining. It is all too easy to make the mistake of speaking and thinking as though God (if there is a God) might be a being, an entity, within our world, accessible to our interested study in the same sort of way we might study music or mathematics, open to our investigation by the same sort of techniques we use for objects and entities within our world....The difficulty is that speaking of God in anything like the Christian sense is like staring into the sun. It's dazzling. It's easier, actually, to look away from the sun itself and to enjoy the fact that, once it's well and truly risen, you can see everything else clearly.

I almost killed a guy yesterday.

My car has a leak in one of the hoses in the power steering system, and I'd like to try not to burn out the pump before I can get it fixed. So I went down to the auto parts store to get some power steering fluid.

That's where I almost killed a man.

Here's how it went.

I went in and asked the young man behind the counter, told him that I needed power steering fluid for my 2004 Kia, and asked him where I could find it.

At that point the young man took his life in his hands and said,"Are you sure that's what you want? What did your husband ask you to get?"

I took a deep breath, tried not to jump across the counter and gouge out his eyes, and said very quietly, "My husband asked for a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk, but what I need is power steering fluid. Now, just point."

Now, my husband is a smart man, and can see a leak in a hose just as well as I can. But that's just it. I CAN see gunk dripping out of the car, and yes, I do know what a power steering pump looks like. The little fluid level chamber is very clearly marked on my car, so I can figure out for myself if the level is low. A Y-chromosome is not necessary to open the hood of the car and check these things. Kenny was not home when I noticed the problem and I did not feel any fear or trepidation about looking for the problem myself. And honestly, I probably would still first look for myself.

My Dad didn't raise me to avoid anything because of my gender. I have helped him shingle the roof and paint the workshop. I helped him do wiring in a house we lived in when I was a kid and helped him pull the transmission out of an old station wagon. He came over several years ago and helped me change out the power steering pump on a 1992 Jeep Cherokee. (See, I have power steering pump experience.) He and Mom always told me that being a girl didn't excuse me from anything. Femininity does not exclude intelligence and being ladylike does not demand dependence on others.

Paul said that in Christ there is no Jew or Greek, no male or female, that all are the same in Christ. No one is higher or more valuable than the other. And while we may all have different jobs, strengths, weaknesses, and purposes to fulfill, God made us all in His image. While some may believe that my being female disqualifies me from serving in particular roles in the church, I disagree. I believe that the problems occur (1)when women fail to do what God tells us to do, and (2)when others prohibit or discourage us from doing as God has commanded because of gender.

After all, to whom must I give my answer for my obedience - God or man?

Preach the gospel to all the world, and if necessary, use words - St. Francis of Assisi

I am always amazed at how God works stuff out, and has different people all thinking about the same stuff. Last week, we finished a book study on St. Benedict's Toolbox by Jane Tomaine. Benedict was an advocate, not so much of cloistering, but of monastic rule "in order to help the monastic community that he founded to better love God, self and each other by providing some guidelines on how to live a spiritual life in community." For most of us, that is relevant as a recommendation to think clearly about the guiding principles of our lives and making a conscious effort as to how we should live as disciples of Christ.

Now, I have to admit, I wasn't working on that book, but reading Simply Christian. In it, Bishop Wright talks about the fact that God's realm and our realm are separated by a spiritual veil, but overlap and interlock and we are, in fact, those points of connection, bringing the presence of God with us as we are walking, living, moving Temples of God. We live in the place between this broken creation and the Living God who loved us and it so much that He launched a rescue operation to save it and us. That was Christ's job, and as His emissaries in our own generation, it is ours as well. Jesus said, "When you have seen me, you have seen the Father." He also said that his disciples would do what he has done and even greater. That leaves me feeling quite the responsibility and quite a lot to live up to.

Then this weekend's epistle reading was Galatians 5:1, 13-25. You know, the whole Fruit of the Spirit list.

Sometimes, in a world full of sarcasm and cynicism, it's really hard to remember to respond with Christ's mind and not my own mouth, and to remember that I may be the only representative from God with whom someone may interact.

Am I behaving in a way that points to The Way, The Truth, and The Life?


Live the Life by Michael W. Smith

Were passengers aboard the train
Silent little lambs amidst the pain
Thats no longer good enough
And when its time to speak our faith
We use a language no one can explain
Thats no longer good enough

And God knows its a shame
As we look to pass the flame
We are not the worthy bearers of his name

Chorus:
For the world to know the truth
There can be no greater proof
Than to live the life, live the life
Theres no love thats quite as pure
Theres no pain we can't endure
If we live the life, live the life
Be a light for all to see
For every act of love will set you free

Theres something beautiful and bold
The power of a million human souls
Come together as one
And each in turn goes out to lead
Another by his word, his love, his deed
Now the circle is done

It all comes back to one
For it is he and he alone
Who has lived the only perfect life weve known

For the world to know the truth
There can be no greater proof
Than to live the life, live the life
Theres no love thats quite as pure
Theres no pain we cant endure
If we live the life, live the life
Be a light for all to see
For every act of love will set you free

Simply Christian by N.T. Wright

N.T. Wright, Bishop of Durham, is one of my favorite writers and theologians, although, I think he has said he is more a 1st century historian than theologian. Fortunately for thinking Christians, he looks continuously about 1st century Christianity and interpreting the Biblical texts in light of the historical context in which they were written.

I have just finished his book, Simply Christian, and will be posting some quotes from it periodically. In Simply Christian, Rev. Wright talks about a lot of things. And he does it in such a matter-of-fact and conversational tone that his books, while full of "Eureka" moments, aren't liable to give me a brain cramp. They can be read in little snatches at the restaurant while waiting for the food to come.

And while they are simple in presentation, the concepts he tackles aren't ones that lend themselves to today's "bumper sticker theology". As my priest is fond of replying to questions, "I think it's more complicated than that."

How much more complicated and complex must our Creator be and how arrogant is Man to think that we should be able to define and explain the Almighty?



So here's the first quote from Simply Christian by N.T. Wright:

...People often grumble as soon as a discussion about the meaning of human life, or the possibility of God, moves away from quite simple ideas and becomes more complicated. Any world in which there are such things as music and sex, laughter and tears, mountains and mathematics, eagles and earthworms, statues and symphonies and snowflakes and sunsets - and in which we humans find ourselves in the middle of it all - is bound to be a world in which the quest for truth, for reality, for what we can be sure of, is infinitely more comlicated than simple yes-and-no questions will allow. There is appropriate complexity along with appropriate simplicity.

 


Sometimes the miracle is just watching the sun come up.

Taken at Silver River State Park, FL

Musings at 40

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau

How desperate do you have to be to do whatever it takes to keep your soul's song alive?

What does that look like?

Is it worth it to try?

Change my heart, O God

I heard a great sermon today about committment. My Dad preached it.

It seemed an appropriate topic seeing since my idea of what a Christian's committment looks like has recently gotten me labeled as judgemental.

I don't really think of myself as judgemental, but really I guess I am about some things.

I tend to doubt people who give the church a bad name.

I tend to doubt people who pray as the Pharisee prayed, "Lord I am grateful that I am not like this sinner," when they still smell like last night's party. Are they really committed to holiness?

I tend to doubt people who can't get past publicly praying,"Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner" because they get a different kind of attention. These people come in two types: 1) people who get a lot of mileage out of their constant state of crisis and 2) people who feel pious because others get to watch the breast-beating.

I tend to doubt people who remain silent when someone else is denigrating their faith. To me, to be silent is to assent.

I tend to doubt people who think their church is the ONLY one who has it right. Nobody has it completely right. Different churches have different emphases. They speak to different needs in different seasons of one's life.

I tend to doubt people who think their church has it COMPLETELY right. (See above)

I tend to doubt Christians who are meaner than the average unchurched person.

I tend to doubt people who are too proud to admit that someone else might have some worship traditions of value that are different from mine. "Liturgical churches can't be led by the Spirit because everyone is just reading" vs. "Evangelicals have no sense of history and tradition and therefore have no value".

And I just don't trust people who type e-mails in all caps, all lower case or no punctuation, or who can't spell.

And before anyone starts saying that I'm not supposed to judge others, I get judged as well.

My mom thinks your Christianity is shaky if you take any alcohol, including real wine in the communion cup.

My parents friends think my Christianity is shaky because I joined AN EPISCOPAL CHURCH, FOR PETE'S SAKE.

People from the charismatic, nondenominational church we used to attend think, well, I don't know what they think, because they don't call. But when we attended, people who didn't even know me offered to pray over me and lay hands on me when I asked hard theological questions that didn't lend themselves to bumper sticker length answers.

My coworkers think I'm snobby and unfriendly and exclude me because I choose not to join in the gossip, back-stabbing, and whatever else.

And those are just a few of the ones I know about.

Now, the crucial element, I believe, is that everyone makes assumptions about other people all the time. It's how we act on those assumptions that makes it judgement. I think instead of judgement, we should use the idea of condemnation. Am I condemning someone because of these things, or am I genuinely trying to show the Love of Christ to them anyway? That's how Christ works in people. As I act out the love of Christ to them, God will change my heart.

Taking offense

Sometimes someone asks for your opinion, but when you give it, you end up in trouble. It would work out better if you kept your trap shut.

I'm not always very good at that. In fact, sometimes I'm really bad at that.

So, apparently, I offended some people by a comment I posted on another blog, and for that I'm sorry.

But I was also surprised that anyone would be offended at what I said, and their responses to mine hurt my feelings - mostly because they didn't listen to what I said. Perhaps I could have said it better, but I don't think that what I said was wrong.

So much for the via media.

My son in whom I am very pleased.

I can hardly believe it's been three weeks since I wrote anything. Time has once again gotten away from me.

Tomorrow is a great example of how time gets away. It's my son's 15th birthday.

I'm not quite sure now it happened, but he's taller than me even when I wear heels. And his voice is deeper. And he's got fuzz on his lip.

And now, when girls call his name and wave, the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

Of course, this is the same boy who used to play with my hair while I read to him.

This is the same boy who locked himself IN the bathroom when he was four and couldn't get himself out.

This is the same boy who wanted to know if we could find somebody to trade with if we didn't like the new baby (Rachel).

This is the same boy who told the doctor that the purpose of a ceiling was to hold the fan up.

When the rest of the Cub Scout pack was asking the visiting banker how much money was in his bank and how much a car cost, this is the 9 year-old boy who asked him to explain, "What is economics?"

This is the same boy who has endured terrible pain and anguish over the last five years while we have sought a way to control his horrible migraines.

This is the same boy who has been absent from school more than he has attended in the last four years, and manages to get As and Bs in honors and AP classes.

This is the same boy who was too shy to order his own kids meal at the burger joint, but who now teaches skills to younger scouts.

This is the same boy who writes fiction so well that a literary agent, upon reading Chapter 1 of a novel he started, told him to finish it, send it in, and not to tell anyone his age.

This is the same boy who questioned God's love for him when he wasn't healed, and came up with the right answer anyway.

This is the same boy who reduces his sister to tears telling her she has rabies and scurvy and leprosy (or scurvaceous rabid leprosy complicated with dandruff), but is genuinely concerned when she says she feels bad.

How did that little baby who sucked his thumb the day he was born turn into this strong, compassionate, resilient, and interesting person?

And for all his amazing accomplishments, he's not perfect. (No, Nana, he's not!)

But he is my son, and I am very pleased with him. And I am grateful to be his Mom and watch him grow up.

Well, God is watching us, His children, too. Do you think He's amazed at how much we've grown? Is He surprised at how mature we are? Or are we late bloomers - a spiritual failure to launch living in the basement?

Is He very pleased?

anything but typical

One Foundation

One thing I love about my church is that there are very few cradle Episcopalians.

Let me explain. Lots of people have come together to my church who were raised in other churches. They bring with them other points of view and traditions.... and music. My friend, Carol, who was raised Lutheran, teaches me all the old German hymns. We find that we're singing the same hymn texts with different tunes. I teach her the Baptist versions. D-Ray keeps reminding me of how things are written in the Methodist hymnal. His wife, Gina, and I sang a song out of the Pentecostal Holiness hymnal from my husband's family's church that I had no idea she knew, and our friend, Mary Kay, another former Lutheran, said it sounded like Baptists had landed. Jim brought me music from Handel's Messiah that he wants to sing. Linda and the Esparagozas come over from the Catholic church to do music on Sunday mornings and bring all sorts of folk mass music I'd never heard until we came to King of Peace. Bill brings his dulcimer and plays along. Today he surprised everyone by playing our new piano for communion music. And of course, those who were raised Episcopalians share their hymns with me as well, although some are a little fuzzy on why we got a piano instead of an organ. We all share and are better for being part of the mix.

You see, God's love for us and our love for Him is the common root for our life in communion with each other. While we may have different views on expressing our faith, on worship, on spirituality, on what a "good Christian" looks like, we are bound together into one community by Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane - that His disciples and followers would be one, just as He and the Father were one. He knew that while He is our foundation we needed to support each other for our survival.

Holy Week is a time that liturgical churches get back to the reason we're here. We wouldn't be here if Jesus was just a Godly prophet. The Church is in existence because of Jesus' sacrifice, death, and resurrection. He is our foundation, our rock, our cornerstone.


anything but typical


P.S. Apologies to my family for my getting carried away in all the excitement over the new piano and the preparations for Holy Week services. Thank you for all your encouragement and patience. (Did you know we got a new piano?)


The Church's One Foundation by Samuel J. Stone 1866

The Church’s one foundation
Is Jesus Christ her Lord,
She is His new creation
By water and the Word.
From heaven He came and sought her
To be His holy bride;
With His own blood He bought her
And for her life He died.

She is from every nation,
Yet one o’er all the earth;
Her charter of salvation,
One Lord, one faith, one birth;
One holy Name she blesses,
Partakes one holy food,
And to one hope she presses,
With every grace endued.

The Church shall never perish!
Her dear Lord to defend,
To guide, sustain, and cherish,
Is with her to the end:
Though there be those who hate her,
And false sons in her pale,
Against both foe or traitor
She ever shall prevail.

Though with a scornful wonder
Men see her sore oppressed,
By schisms rent asunder,
By heresies distressed:
Yet saints their watch are keeping,
Their cry goes up, “How long?”
And soon the night of weeping
Shall be the morn of song!

’Mid toil and tribulation,
And tumult of her war,
She waits the consummation
Of peace forevermore;
Till, with the vision glorious,
Her longing eyes are blest,
And the great Church victorious
Shall be the Church at rest.

Yet she on earth hath union
With God the Three in One,
And mystic sweet communion
With those whose rest is won,
With all her sons and daughters
Who, by the Master’s hand
Led through the deathly waters,
Repose in Eden land.

O happy ones and holy!
Lord, give us grace that we
Like them, the meek and lowly,
On high may dwell with Thee:
There, past the border mountains,
Where in sweet vales the Bride
With Thee by living fountains
Forever shall abide!

A Weather Report

It has been a truly dreadful week.

Monday and Tuesday were so bad that I went to church service Wednesday - even though I knew I would be late - glad for the peace, quiet, and familiarity of a liturgical service, glad to go and just be there, glad to not be responsible for all the answers to all the problems.

I know I'm not the only one in the world who looks to people on the outside to have it all together and to feel on the inside like she's holding on to the precipice during a hurricane by fingernails long overdue for that manicure.

But God knows.

Even we we think He's not listening or ignoring us or whatever.

He hears and He knows. And He gives us the strangest answers.

I went for a drive tonight to the gas station and took the long way home. I was feeling quite overwhelmed, underappreciated, overworked, and undersupported. I have offered up many prayers this week and shed many tears with no end in sight to the stressors in my life. And as I turned on the radio, I heard "I'll praise You in this storm/ And I will lift my hands/ For You are who You are/ No matter where I am/ Every tear I've cried/ You hold in Your hand/ You never left my side/ And though my heart is torn/ I will praise You in this storm".

I had to pull into a parking space and pray. I had to tell God that I was sorry for being such a demanding, whiny baby, and witholding the grateful praise He wants and desires. I've been feeling neglected because I have felt taken for granted. But I've been treating God that way, too.

I'm a firm believer that for the most part, love is a choice. I choose to love my husband, and because I make that choice, I spend time on our relationship even if that means I sacrifice my own wants and needs sometimes, just as he does because he chooses to love me.

Well, God chose me, too. And I choose to love God. That means that I have to choose to love, serve and be obedient even in the storms that buffet my life and even if God doesn't rescue me the way I think He should, or even if He says, "No".

I choose to love Him because He is the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth, of all that is - seen and unseen. I choose to love Him because He loved me enough to send Jesus. I choose love Him because Jesus loved me enough to choose to sacrifice Himself to make things right.

I choose to praise Him in my storm because He chose to be there, too.

anything but typical


PRAISE YOU IN THIS STORM as recorded by Casting Crowns

I was sure by now
That You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining

As the thunder rolls I barely hear
Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as You mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry
You raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on If I can't find You

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth

Written by Mark Hall / Music by Mark Hall and Bernie Herms ©2005 Club Zoo Music (BMI) / SWECS Music (BMI) (admin. by EMI CMG Publishing) / Word Music, LLC (ASCAP) / Banahama Tunes (ASCAP) (admin. by Word Music, LLC)

Carry Your Cross

Last Friday was the first time I had been to Stations of the Cross service. It was interesting for me in spite of the sand gnats and feeling rushed.

I went back out today with my son and just walked the trail at my leisure. I thought about the stations and the trip our Lord made from Gethsemane to the empty tomb. It was a trip He made knowing full well ahead of time what lay at the end. He knew His purpose and His destiny. He knew the pain and anguish and suffering and humiliation that awaited Him. And He went anyway out of His great and gracious love for us.

Ever since I went to service on Friday, I've been singing a song to myself by Third Day. It's called Carry My Cross. It's written in first person and the speaker is Jesus. The lead singer has this deep gravely voice that fits in with my picture of the big burly "manly man" Jesus the tough guy carpenter. It's about His accepting His destiny and purpose even though it going to be hard.

A friend of ours recently sent me a letter with the definition of destiny as "a non-transferable assignment from God for the benefit of His Kingdom." That was what Jesus had. He was assigned something that no one else could do for humanity. He was the only one who could do the job and He accepted his destiny.

What destiny, what nontransferrable assignment has God given you? Are you trying to get out of it or are you accepting responsibility for your role in His kingdom?

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Carry My Cross by Third Day

As long as I remember
I’ve been walking through the wilderness
Praying to the Father
And waiting for my time
I’ve come here with a mission
And soon I’ll give my life for this world

I’m praying in the garden
And I’m looking for a miracle
I find the journey hard but
It’s the reason I was born
Can this cup be passed on
Lord, I pray your will be done
In this world

So I’ll carry my cross
And I’ll carry the shame
To the end of the road
Through the struggle and pain
And I’ll do it for love
No, it won’t be in vain
Yes, I’ll carry my cross
And I’ll carry the shame

I feel like I’m alone here
And I’m treated like a criminal
The time has come for me now
Even though I’ve done no wrong
Father, please forgive them
They know not what they’ve done
In this world

So I'll carry my cross
And I'll carry the shame
To the end of the road
Through the struggle and the pain
And I'll do it for love
No, it won't be in vain
I'll carry my cross
And I'll carry the shame

Three more days and I’ll be coming back again
Three more days and I’ll be coming back again

There's Within my Heart a Melody

No, I didn't decide to abandon blogging. I just got busy. I appreciate all those who have kept looking for new posts and the e-mails asking if I was OK.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the role of music in the ministry of the church. Music is primarily seen as a performance art but performance really has no place in worship. After all, the main purpose of the worship is to adore and connect with God, not to show off.

That said, music is a powerful force. Weaving together words, rhyme, meter, and harmonics is an art form that exists in every culture. Music, even through the many permutations that exist in the world, is a constant. The spiritual, sometimes tribal, draw that music effects on us varies from individual to individual, but even some deaf people can still feel the vibrations.

Church music functions in several different ways. First and foremost, congregational music in worship is about the worship. This does not change whether a church prefers southern gospel, sacred harp, traditional hymnody, contemporary praise music, or any combination. It adds a point where the congregants can and should offer praises to God Almighty. It's about the joyful noise that the psalmist David described.

Second, music has also been a teaching tool in the church particularly in societies where literacy is not the norm or for preliterate children. This occurs for several reasons. The frequency of hymn repetition usually means that the hymns are heard more often than a specific passage of scripture. The patterns of strict rhyme and meter with frequent repetition make memorization very easy, and sometimes even unintentional as anyone who has ever had a song stuck in his head can attest. The hymns of any given church are usually screened by the powers that publish to ensure that the hymns are consistent with the doctrines of that particular denomination.

Third, in liturgical churches, there are chants, prayers, hymns, and psalms that are regularly sung as part of congregational worship and longer pieces that are chanted or sung on special occasions such as at the upcoming Holy Week and Easter services. These are also part of worship. The plainsong of chant done well musically parallels the text and augments it making it more interesting to hear than to be read to.

Fourth, special instrumental music - preludes, postludes, offertories, etc. - offer time for quiet contemplation. Congregants should take the time to enjoy the art form, but to use the sounds and melodies to help center their minds for contemplation and prepare themselves for what is to come next in the service.

Fifth, special vocal music - choirs, ensembles, individual singers with or without accompaniment offers a the advantages of a presented text (the lyrics) with the opportunity to allow the congregation time to contemplate that text. This type of music is the most problematic for most churches. It requires the most work since it means that multiple musicians - some of whom must have some training and skill - have to work together to choose appropriate music, practice, teach musical skills to those who want to learn and participate in groups, come to agreement on how the musical score should be interpreted, or even write or arrange the music desired. Depending on the complexity of the piece and the skill level of the musicians, music presented in this fashion may take months to prepare. And while it is the most demanding, it is also one of the most rewarding personally. I love to sing in groups both large and small because I love the interplay between different sounding voices and instruments. I love the way a good score can bring emphasis to the text. I love the way that music can reach into your head unexpectedly and grab your attention. I love that when I don't have the words of my own I can still have a song in my heart to speak to God or to others about Him.

Unfortunately, it is easy to see church musicians as "performers" since that is what we see in secular music. I don't think of myself as a performer. I see myself as a musican - one who practices the art and craft of music - for the glory of the Father. I'm not there to show off. My purpose is different. I desire no applause (praise should be reserved for the Savior), although an occasional acknowledgement of hard work is appreciated. And sometimes the tendency to see church music as a performing art diminishes the ability to fully appreciate it's power to move people spiritually in worship. For me, it's just part of who I am. It is how I serve, how I worship, and how I can share God's love.

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Keep Singing by Mercy Me

Another rainy day
I can't recall having sunshine on my face
All I feel is pain
All I wanna do is walk out of this place
But when I am stuck and I can't move
When I don't know what I should do
When I wonder if I'll ever make it through

I gotta keep singing
I gotta keep praising Your name
Your'e the one that's keeping my heart beating
I gotta keep singing
I gotta keep praising Your name
That's the only way that I'll find healing

Can I climb up in Your lap
I don't wanna leave
Jesus, sing over me
I gotta keep singing
Oh You're everything I need
And I gotta keep singing

An unrepentant Lent

Ok, I've already messed up Lent, and I am quite unrepentant about it.

You see, you're supposed to give up all the alleluias during Lent, but I can't manage it.

Actually, I had already done it before I got home from Ash Wednesday service last night.

When I left, I had an old Gaither Homecoming CD playing (Yes, I do like Southern Gospel) and before I knew it, I was singing along.

"Hallelujah to the Lamb,
Hallelujah to the Lamb that was slain upon the tree,
By His stripes we are healed,
By His blood we are sealed,
Hallelujah to the Lamb of God."

When I got home, I had to sit in the car for a minute and pull myself together. Between the Ash Wednesday liturgy reminding us of our mortality and need for repentance, the sermon on God's constant and abiding love for us, and the honest praise offered by the singers on the CD, I could not restrain my gratitude and the tears fell. I could not stop the alleluias. They just came along with tears of appreciation for my Savior.

I'm not even actually sorry, so I did it again today.

I really believe that our recognition of our need for redemption and the acknowledgement that it is provided through the sacrifice of God's Son, Jesus, should move us to worship. Our recognition of our mortality should cause us to glorify the Holy Eternal One. It should spill out like my Hallelujahs last night. Our desire to praise and worship should overtake us and burst forth in spite of our best intentions to be sedate, serious, and contemplative.

So, I leave you with a hymn about repentance and the need for Salvation

AND hallelujahs, too!

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Hallelujah! What a Savior by Philip Paul Bliss 1875

Man of Sorrows! what a name
For the Son of God, Who came
Ruined sinners to reclaim.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
In my place condemned He stood;
Sealed my pardon with His blood.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Guilty, vile, and helpless we;
Spotless Lamb of God was He;
“Full atonement!” can it be?
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Lifted up was He to die;
“It is finished!” was His cry;
Now in Heav’n exalted high.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

When He comes, our glorious King,
All His ransomed home to bring,
Then anew His song we’ll sing:
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Lenten resolutions

I love Lent. I think it resonates with my Baptist upbringing – you know, emphasis on sinners saved by grace, sinners who need saving. One thing I like about being in a liturgical church is the marking of the seasons of the church year: Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost.

My beloved husband isn't really fond of Lent and Ash Wednesday. He says it's a little too Catholic for him, and that's OK. It doesn't bother me a bit. You see, Lent is a period of reflection, meditation, and repentance and my husband is a pretty "prayed up" kind of guy. He reads his Bible daily, and he is a man who seeks God all year long. He takes his wedding vow of loving me as Christ loves the church seriously. He doesn't feel to need to wait for Lent to straighten himself out. It's just routine maintenance. I think he's got the right idea.

Too many of us treat Lent like New Year’s Day, and our “give up for Lent” thing last just about as long as a New Year's resolution. Giving up chocolate for Lent is not so you can lose pounds, it should be for disciplining yourself for sacrifice. I think a better choice is to think about refraining from something that gets in your way of being a Servant of Christ or adding something that makes the most of your time. Replace something frivolous with something spiritual.

Here are some ideas:

Give up your daily cappuccino and put the money you save in the alms box at church or use it to be an anonymous “fairy godparent” to a needy person.

Use your break time at work for personal prayer instead of going out to smoke or gossip.

Pass by the 9:30am tee time you could get on Sunday morning and make it to church instead.

Download the Bible into your PDA and read it instead of playing Solitaire or Bejeweled.

The thing is to have something positive come of out the sacrifice.

And, no, I haven’t settled on what my Lenten discipline will be. I’m sure God will show me something worthwhile. It may even be fun – serious fun, but still fun.

Anything but typical

Bruised and Broken

Sunday morning, my shoulders were purple.

Saturday, while some members of our church went to the Habitat for Humanity build, a few of us (and I do mean few - 4 adults, 1 teenager, and 1 young girl) worked at the church getting the Stations of the Cross trail ready for Lent. Behind my church, there is a nature trail with the Stations of the Cross. It is available all year for prayer and meditation, but every Friday during Lent, we walk the trail together and do the service and pray. The trail was originally a young man's Eagle Scout Project. Of course, he grew up as young men do, and left us this beautiful place that occasionally needs maintenance. And I am grateful to do it.

For my Baptist and other evangelical friends who are not familiar with the Stations of the Cross, it is a devotion attributed to St. Francis of Asissi and the Franciscans who would make pilgrimage to Jerusalem to trace the steps of Jesus from his sentencing to Calvary praying and meditating along the way. After a while, churches all across Europe began building stations in the cathedrals for those who were too poor, weak, or afraid of the bandits along the way to make the trip to Jerusalem. The traditional way has 14 stations, the last station being Christ laid in the tomb. Ours has 15 stations, the last station being the Resurrection, without which the rest would have just been tragic.

For me, the physical labor of renovating the trail is a great start to the Lenten season. We hauled in 200 landscape timbers on our shoulders and hauled out the old, rotted ones. As I could feel the bruises forming on my shoulders, I thought about how much worse my Savior's shoulders must have felt, bruised and bleeding, and carrying a cross much, much heavier than one landscape timber and knowing there was much worse to come.

And He did it freely because of His love for us.

His sacrifice makes my bruises look silly.

And while readying the trail for worship is a noble deed, the sacrifices God requires of us are much more serious. He expects us to give every moment, every thought, every intention, and every action to His direction. We are to join His Kingdom and to show the world His Love every minute of the day. We are to be unafraid, unashamed, and unabashedly His children.

Regardless of what others say, think, or do to or about us, we are His, bought by His sacrifice, cleansed by His blood, and marked as His own.

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Jesus, I my Cross Have Taken
by Henry F Lyte, 1824

Jesus, I my cross have taken, all to leave and follow Thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition, all I’ve sought or hoped or known.
Yet how rich is my condition! God and heaven are still mine own.

Let the world despise and leave me, they have left my Savior, too.
Human hearts and looks deceive me; Thou art not, like them, untrue.
And while Thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me, show Thy face and all is bright.

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure! Come, disaster, scorn and pain!
In Thy service, pain is pleasure; with Thy favor, loss is gain.
I have called Thee, “Abba, Father”; I have set my heart on Thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, all must work for good to me.

Man may trouble and distress me, ’twill but drive me to Thy breast.
Life with trials hard may press me; heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me while Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me, were that joy unmixed with Thee.

Take, my soul, thy full salvation; rise o’er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station something still to do or bear:
Think what Spirit dwells within thee; what a Father’s smile is thine;
What a Savior died to win thee, child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?

Haste then on from grace to glory, armed by faith, and winged by prayer,
Heaven’s eternal day’s before thee, God’s own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission, swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope soon change to glad fruition, faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

God's business

Have you ever wondered just what we are supposed to be doing for our world? What does being a royal priesthood really mean?

I've been thinking about this in conjunction with a passage from Exodus where the hardheads of the nation of Israel made God so angry that he entertained the idea of destroying all of them and starting over with Moses and his family. (See Exodus Chapter 32.) If it were not for Moses eloquent and heartfelt pleading for his people, our story would be completely different.

I can't help but think that we're not any better than the children of Israel. and how hotly his anger must burn against humanity.

And who is pleading for our world now? In Jesus prayer in Gethsemane, he prayed for not only his disciples of that time, but of all time. It is clear from His conversation with the Father that we are to do His work here. I think that's more than just sitting in church waiting for orders.

I believe that as we study and learn about what Jesus did when He was on this earth we should then go and do just that. One thing that He did was to agonize over the condition of His world (Matthew 23:37-39). If He is our example, then we need to be doing the things He did.

We are to proclaim the Kingdom of God as here.
We are to speak truth and live in faith.
We are to agonize over our lost world.
We are to champion the needy.
We are to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.
We are to sweat blood over the sacrifices we make.
We are to weep for the sins of the world.
We are to show mercy, not judgement.
We are to forgive.
We are to be a holy people.

God, help us to see our world through the eyes of our Saviour. Help us to show them what redemption looks like. Help us to be burdened for their suffering. Fill us with Christ's compassion for us so that we might truly care about the world in which we live.

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Lord, have mercy! I've run off and joined a cult!

I heard this week about a nice Episcopal lady who went to interview at one of our local Baptist churches to interview for the position of a church secretary. She was told that the interview was concluded because their employees had to be Christians and they did not consider Episcopalians to be Christian.

Lord, have mercy. I've run off and joined a cult!

There are a couple of things about this that make me sad.

First of all, in Gethsemane our Savior prayed to the Father that He would make us one as they were one. Unfortunately, we have divided up the Kingdom of God like football teams, and we spend more time cheering for our own team and booing everyone else's than we do actually getting down to God's business.

Second, it makes me sad that the leadership of the Episcopal Church that I love, the church that has brought me hope and peace at different times in my life, has so fractured its relationships with the rest of Christendom that we can be accused at all with any validity. It makes me sad that politics has supplanted the mission of the church. Now, that said, I see this in multiple denominations, not just the Anglicans and Episcopalians. Some groups like the ubermensch at the SBC are fracturing relationships from their Pharisaical bent.

When I was little, the two Baptist churches and the Methodist church in my hometown would have a joint service on the last Sunday of the month when there were five Sundays in the month. Fifth Sunday services were a lot of fun. One church would host it, another would do the service, and the third would bring food for fellowship time after the service. I remember that after one service done by the Methodists one of our good Baptist deacons wanted to take me to task for repeating the Nicene Creed with all the Methodists. He had a problem with the line about "one holy, catholic, and apostolic church". He didn't understand that it wasn't refering to the Roman Catholic Church but the single Church of the our Lord that is broader than our divisions. I had to ask my Dad about it, because at the age of eight or nine, I wasn't sure either. He sat down with me and went over the Creed line by line and explained to me that although Baptists don't say any creeds, there wasn't anything in there that Baptists didn't believe. He explained that this was my heritage as a Baptist as much as anyone else's, and that it was an important part of the history of the Church.

I would even dare to say that the name of the church you attend doesn't matter. What matters is what you believe about Jesus.

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The Nicene Creed

We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all that is, seen and unseen.

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God,
eternally begotten of the Father,
God from God, Light from Light,
true God from true God,
begotten, not made,
of one Being with the Father.
Through him all things were made.
For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven:
by the power of the Holy Spirit, he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary,
and was made man.
For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered death and was buried.
On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures;
he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,
and his kingdom will have no end.

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,
who proceeds from the Father and the Son.
With the Father and the Son he is worshiped and glorified.
He has spoken through the Prophets.

We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.
We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.
We look for the resurrection of the dead,
and the life of the world to come.
Amen

Getting on with the job

I recently finished reading The Challenge of Jesus by N.T. Wright. I really like the way he writes and his take on matters theological even though I may not agree with his politics. I think that one reason I like reading his works is that he doesn't castigate the reader for being a skeptic. He approaches theological issues from a logical standpoint as well as a faithful place. He makes a leap of faith seem like a step up a staircase. Then he talkes openly about what the church needs to do to share the story of Jesus sacrifice in a postmodern world.

Shaping our world is never for a Christian a matter of going out arrogantly
thinking we can just get on with the job, reorganizing the world according to
some model that we have in mind. It is a matter of sharing and bearing the
pain and puzzlement of the world so that the crucified love of God in Christ may
be brought to bear healingly upon the world at exactly that point. (p189)

You see, for Enlightenment/Modern type thinkers, progress is automatic. If we have more information, the world will be a better place and things will be right.

Unfortunately, the brutality and cruelty of the early and mid 20th centuries produced generations from the 1950s on who are skeptical that anything will ever be better. The prevailing philosophy among my generation and those that follow is that the world is a wicked place and will be so no matter what anyone does or says. Everyone is wicked, everyone's motives are suspect, therefore you have no right to tell me right and wrong since you are also wicked. This makes sharing the gospel to my generation very difficult. While "Jesus Loves Me this I know for the Bible tells me so" might have met the needs of previous generations, it doesn't engage mine at all. The skepticism is built into us like a floodlight looking to shine on hypocrisy and inconsistency, and as soon as those are visible, Christianity is rejected lock, stock, and barrel.

But the church can't write off my generation and the generations to follow. I can't declare my friends and co-workers as unredeemable. God does love them and this I know because the Bible does tell me so - but not only because of that, I know because He loves me and changed my life in such a complete way that I want others to experience that saving grace as well. I want to see my hurting, disillusioned companions in this life to be comforted and healed and loved and saved in this world as well as in the world to come.

I don't have the answer of how to proclaim Jesus to my world. I can be a difficult, skeptical, postmodern spiritual refugee like everyone else. I'm no theologian or ordained and trained person. I'm just a dissident, and sometimes disobedient, Christ-follower. I can't make God logical for anyone.

But I can tell you that how you live matters more than what you say. Compassion is more effective than condemnation. Mercy is more effective than judgement. Integrity is more effective than religious legalism. Sunday Christians don't change our world. It's those who are living out their faith every moment, every day who catch the attention and curiosity of those around us. Our persistence, our faithfulness, and our committment to live His life and do the work our Saviour has called us to do will draw the world to Him.

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Everything Impossible by Mercy Me

I was taught to be practical in everything I do
Holding on to what is tangible, and then came You
That's when I found myself so far away from everything I knew
I took a leap of faith
Even though You're difficult for me to explain
I know I'll never be the same

You're everything I cannot see
You're everything I cannot say
I know it all seems so illogical
But that's okay
You're the love You give to me
You're the love I give away
You are everything impossible
And that's okay
That's okay!

All the things that make no sense to me, draw me to You
Like finding freedom by surrendering, can it be true
With everything I can and cannot know
This mystery is bringing life to me
And all this love I have for You I can't contain
I know I'll never be the same

You're everything I cannot see
You're everything I cannot say
I know it all seems so illogical
But that's okay
You're the love You give to me
You're the love I give away
You are everything impossible
And that's okay
That's okay

Simply Trusting

My daughter, Rachel, always knows what she wants. And she wants everything.
Sometimes she gets what she wants, and sometimes I say no.

Sometimes I say no because it's a bad idea.

Sometimes I say no because she's asked for 300th time in the last hour.

Sometimes I say no because she needs to not hear yes.

Sometimes I say no because I've got a better idea - because something nicer, a bigger treat, something more fun that she hasn't thought of yet - is in the works.

I'll usually say, "Rachel, just trust me." Of course, then the whining starts. I hold my ground that she's to trust me and usually she's pleasantly surprised.

I think God does us the same way. We ask for things all the time. Poor God. Nine billion and counting on this planet are all asking nonstop for things. Bless me, bless me, bless me, give me, give me, give me, why not, why not, why, why, why, why?

What He really says is, "Just trust me".

In Romans 8:28, Paul said, "And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." He didn't say it would be good along the way or that we'd like it. He said that it would all work out to be something good. Maybe it is not that we need something. Maybe someone else needs something and God has given us a part of play in working out someone else's good.

Has God chosen you to be part of someone else's miracle? Has He said, "Not now, Just trust me"? Maybe His plans have a better conclusion even though it doesn't look like it from here.

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Sometimes the far greater miracle is the victory He brings and the character He reveals when we don't get what we thought we wanted.

-Beth Moore

Words on the Word

I am a bibliophile.

I love books more than I love shoes. I can stay in a bookstore forever. I hate to buy one book of a series; I feel compelled to buy them all so they can all stay together. I love the leather-bound gold-edged editions with the ribbon bookmarkers sewed into the binding. I love my grandmother's books behind the glass case in her secretary that now sits in my living room. I love the Dr. Seuss books that my children and I read over and over and over and over...... I love the paperbacks I pick up at the grocery store that pile up in stacks all over the house. I love to see boxes from Amazon sitting on the porch when I get home from work.

But it's not just the physical books. It's the words - the language of the text. I've been collecting words since I was in college. There's a book into which I copy excerpts from books, quotes from different people, and poems that catch my eye and sometimes my ear. I have a hard time reading A Tale of Two Cities because I keep reading the first paragraph over - not because I'm not following it, but because I love the sound of it so much.

This is only a small part of the kind of love we are supposed to have for God's Word. We're supposed to love it so much that we put it in our hearts. We shouldn't have to make an effort at memorization because we should be spending enough time with it that we just know it.

But how precious is God's Word to us? Is our only exposure to the Holy Writ when we are at church? How grateful are we to live in a country where we have technology and wealth that make having copies of the scripture easy or do we take that for granted?

Pray this week for our Christian brothers and sisters who live in countries where they do not have the freedom to read. Pray that we can be more like them and learn to hide God's Word in our hearts.

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Seen and not heard

I have always loved the Southern Baptist Convention.

I grew up glad to be part of one of the most effective organizations ever to take on the task of spreading the Gospel of Jesus. You see, that was reason for the founding of the SBC - for congregational churches to share resources and support. It was never intended to be a confessional church. The details of each church were left up to that church. The point was that together they could accomplish more than they could alone.

From the beginning of the SBC, there were women - active, involved, working and sacrificing to spread the Good News. The International Mission Board's Christmas offering is called the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering, named after one of the most influential women in SBC history. Her letters back home detailing her experiences in China motivated Southern Baptists at home to give beyond measure to send more missionaries and to see the possibilities for evangelism. In 1912, a famine in China took a tragic toll. Miss Moon had shared all that she had with the Chinese people she had loved so dearly, and was starving right along with them. In December when she was too weak to put up a fight, she was forcibly evacuated by other missionaries, but she died Christmas Eve 1912 on a ship in the harbor at Kobe, Japan that was bound for America.

Annie Armstrong was the first Corresponding Secretary of the Woman's Missionary Union. The purpose of WMU is to do missions education, to promote mission action, and to encourage support, both financial and spiritual, for the missionaries and missions efforts of the SBC. Miss Armstrong was a tireless crusader for spreading the gospel at home and abroad. She crossed racial and ethnic lines long before it was fashionable or respectable. She had strong convictions about what was ladylike and what was not, but she was not afraid to challenge the social conventions of the Victorian Era if it advanced the cause of Christ.

These are only two examples of the women from the early history of the Southern Baptist Convention. Mom was the Associational WMU Director for many years and a Divisional Vice President with Georgia WMU. She brought many of these godly motivated women into my life and they showed me that doing the work of God had nothing to do with your chromosomes. It was first and foremost a matter of unwavering and unquestioning obedience to God alone.

My Dad has always been a strong supporter of missions and WMU. He taught me to believe that I was personally responsible for what I heard from the pulpit. He taught me that while everything that is said from the pulpit should come from God, not everything does, and that it is my responsibility to compare what is said to what God has said in scripture. He taught me that that it is a dangerous thing to accept what one is told by any authority figure as truth simply because it was said by one in authority.

Unfortunately for today's SBC female members, there is not as much hope and the examples are dwindling. The trend within the SBC is to delete women from any position in the church. In some SBC churches, women may not teach adult men, and in some SBC churches they may not teach males at all except in primary grades. In some churches, I could not even teach David in Sunday School whether I felt God's call to do so or not. Recently, a female professor of Hebrew at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary was denied tenure and later released from employment because the administration did not want a woman teaching a man. Her gender was the only reason ever given for her termination. The divisions in the SBC over the role of women are deep and painful for many people, because while many SBC churches find this sort of thing appalling, the ultra-fundamentalists are driving the educational and administrative arms of the church. And of course, women have an extraordinarily limited venue for making objections.

Now whether or not you believe that women should be pastors is not the question. As an Episcopalian, I don't have a problem with it. Actually, I believe that if God calls you and you don't do it, well, you'll have to answer to Him for that one yourself. I have other friends who hold to a strict interpretation and who don't believe it is scriptural for women to pastor. That's fine, too. There's room in God's house for all of us.

My problem is with the teachings that women should be seen and not heard. It implies that women are lesser creations, and sets up problems for women in society. I am also concerned about the fact that women are only valued and only have a voice through their husbands.

And, unfortunately, it is a short ride down the slippery slope to excusing emotional, financial, verbal, and physical abuse.

You have no authority to teach men in church.
You have no right to speak out in church.
I am better than you.
You have no right to disagree with me.
You are bad if you disagree.
I can treat you as I want because you are bad.

I am concerned that they are teaching boys that Mom can say nothing they have to heed. After all, if Mom can't teach them spiritual lessons at church, why should they listen at home?

I am concerned that they are teaching our daughters that apart from a husband they have no voice in the church, that they are second class humans.

What about the widows? What about the Navy wives who husbands are gone half the time?

What about the women who choose a religious vocation and remain unmarried in order to offer more of themselves undistracted to God?

What about the women whose husbands are unsaved and abusive? How far does their doctrine of wifely submissiveness go?

Our wedding vows came right out of Ephesians. I don't have a problem with Paul's instruction to submit myself unto my husband as unto the Lord, because Kenny also promised to love me as Christ loves the church and give his life for me. When he does that, when he loves me beyond himself and puts my happiness and welfare first, my promise is easy to keep.

I didn't say anything about submitting to anyone else.

anything but typical

The Mask

Always a mask

Held in the slim hand, whitely,

Always she had a mask before her face -

Smiling and spritely,

The mask.

For years and years I wondered

But dared not ask.

And then-

I blundered,

I looked behind,

Behind the mask,

To find

Nothing -

She had no face.

She had become

Merely a hand

Holding a mask

With grace.

- The Mask by Helen Joseph, Saturday Review

August 13, 1932

Is there anything behind your mask?

Are you a person of substance?

Are you real?

anything but typical

God and the HMO

I am a happy camper. CIGNA finally paid the hospital for my surgery in October. Back in December, I had gotten a letter stating that the insurance company had not paid and asking if I would please see what I could do to get them to manage it or else write them a check for $23,000 and some change. After I spent a few minutes staggering from the thought that I might be in trouble here, I found that they had already paid the 2 surgeons and the anesthesiologist. I figured that if they had paid them, surely they were going to pay the hospital. I called the insurance company and found that they had needed more information, and they reprocessed the claim.

I knew that they had promised to pay the claim, because I had done everything, provided every bit of documentation and had a letter from them stating they would. But knowing my trusty HMO as only a patient can, I was praying until the check was written.

Fortunately for us, God doesn't work this way.
Jesus said in John 14:6, "I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."

And in John 6:37, He said," All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will by no means cast out."

It is my faith in him and acceptance of His sacrifice for me that makes me His - not some arbitrary "To Do" list. It's not how many times a week I go to church, although the things we do reflect our desire to be obedient. He said that if I come to him believing and trusting, He will not turn me away. He will not change His mind (like an HMO is apt to do).

Praise Ye the Lord, Allelluia!


COME JUST AS YOU ARE
© copyright Joe Sablock 1994

Come just as you are
Hear the Spirit call
Come just as you are
Come and see
Come receive
Come and live forever

Life everlasting
Strength for today
Taste the living water
And never thirst again

Come just as you are
Hear the Spirit call
Come just as you are
Come and see
Christ the King
Come and live forevermore.

Confession is Good for ... Closet Space?

I have a confession to make.

I am a Messy. I have always been a Messy and I fear I always shall be a Messy. I can't help it. It's like a demented, chaotic force of nature, as though there is some big black hole inside my head where all the neatness and order gets sucked in and cannot escape. If I leave the mirror with shirt tucked in and face made, I will arrive in the kitchen with smeared mascara, a run in my stockings, and something unidentifiable on my shirt. If I clean house, my kids ask who is coming to dinner and my husband asks if he did something to make me mad. If robbers were to come, I'm not sure I would realize the house had been ransacked.

Of course, there's always a reason. There's not enough storage. I was at work and didn't feel like doing it when I got home. I can find almost anything my family asks for, so what's the problem with stacks of papers everywhere? I'm easily distracted. I can't vacuum today because David's got a migraine and the noise hurts his head.

Well, the problem is that I can't enjoy the stuff I want to do because there's too much stuff that I need to do. Things in the kitchen expire because they aren't used when there's a pile of stuff blocking the way. I hate saying "No" to my kids having friends over because there's too much laundry on the couch. There's no room to spread out on the table to do a craft project - OK, I have to move stuff just so there's room for dinner.

So, I cleaned out a couple of closets and the pantry and now there are 5 extra bags of trash (on top of an old Christmas tree box) waiting for the nice men in the big truck to come tomorrow and haul it away. I felt much better. My dog even caught me just standing in my walk-in pantry. Did you know there's carpet all over the floor in the study? I hadn't seen it in a while.

But what about the stuff inside me? The flotsam and jetsam in my house is one thing, but the flotsam and jetsam in my soul is more serious. What kind of baggage am I dragging around in my mind and spirit? What kind of garbage is cluttering up my heart and spoiling my joy? What do I need to let go of and part with so I can have some peace?

And just like my seeming helplessness in my house, I cannot change my heart of my own accord. I can resolve to do better, but without God's help, the old habits and hurts resurge and blossom until I am no better than before.

Paul said "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men." (Philippians 2: 2-6) Jesus emptied Himself of his pride and glory to do what needed to be done for the glory of the Father.

How much more should we, who have no righteousness of our own, be willing to trade away our garbage-filled minds and let our minds be transformed into the Christ-like mind the Father has planned for us?

O Lord, Maker of Heaven and Earth, renew my mind, clean out the stuff in the corners, throw out the junk, scrub me clean, and fill me with the mind of Christ.

anything but typical

Some Assembly Required

I had a great afternoon making new friends. Our church has started an Art Guild that meets a couple of Saturdays a month, and today was the day. We made cedar-filled sachets to sell at our Christmas bazaar later in the year. I like making things with my hands, but more important to me was spending a couple of hours with my daughter making new friends and getting to know other women in our church. Afterwards, some of us went to lunch together, too.

The writer of Hebrews said in Hebrews 10:24-25, "And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as you see the Day approaching."

When I was at home with my parents, I was at church for everything - and I mean EVERY thing. If there was any assembling at all, we did not forsake it. As I married and left home, I have always been active in the church. My husband and I have always been active in our churches, but the degrees to which we have been active have varied.

The last 8-9 years have been very trying for me spiritually and up until the last year, I have felt very disconnected from the Christian community like a stray thread on a sweater at risk of being plucked off and discarded at any moment, not really wanted and not really a part of the whole. It wasn't so much that I felt unwanted by God (although the thought did cross my mind periodically). I didn't feel as though I had a place in the community.

And because I didn't feel I had a place, I stopped trying. I forsook the assembling together in a different way than we usually mean. I showed up for church every Sunday, but that's not all the writer of Hebrews meant.

He said that the purpose in being together is to encourage each other, to stir each other up to do good works and to love each other. The word usually translated as "stir up" can also be translated "paroxysm" or "convulsion". How interesting the world would be if we had seizures of good works! Like an epileptic patient who could not control his episodes (after all there were not treatments in 1st century), we should be hopelessly overtaken with the need to do the work of God.

Exhortation means to encourage, and that requires that you help others to see how the power of God can be applied to their lives. To do that, you have to be a part of that life. Exhortation without personal knowledge of the exhortee is just a recitation of platitudes and motivational buzzwords. There's nothing miraculously spiritual about it. It's only showmanship and it's just fake. But if someone who knows me as an individual can help me to see how God's love and power is at work in my life, that is miraculous, welcome, and encouraging.

Anyway, to end my story, I'm making a conscious effort to make sure that I'm involved in the community that is my church, that I'm not just as observer, not just showing up for Sunday morning take-away, but I'm connected to a community of believers. And I'm loving it.

anything but typical

P.S. Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!! I bet you thought I forgot.

He's Been Faithful

My daughter, Rachel, has loved to shop since she was old enough to express an opinion (which was pretty early). When she was a toddler and preschooler, she loved to get into the racks of clothes and try to hide. It was troublesome. Fortunately for me, she never has learned to be quiet so I could always hear where she was. She would call, "Mommy, find me," and giggle. I would walk around in the girls section of the store calling "Rachel," and she would call, "Mommy" like a game of Marco Polo. She never got far from me; part of the game was to see how close to me she could get and still "hide".

One day when she was almost 4, she didn't answer me. I became frantic. Her giggles quickly gave her up and I decided to teach her a lesson. I knew she could see where I was because she could see my feet from her hiding place in the rack of clothes. I whispered her name once more and stepped behind a shelf that went all the way to the ground. I could see where she was but she could no longer see me. I heard her call, "Mommy." I said nothing. She called again, "Mommy." Her head popped out of the top of the clothes rack (she's always been tall). I could see her and could see that she was safe. "Mommy?" She came out into the open and put her hands on her hips, "Mommy, I'm here waiting." A salesperson behind the counter in the store heard her and saw me put my finger to my lips asking her not to give me away. I was expecting Rachel to become upset and have a split second of feeling lost before Mommy "found" her. Rachel, however, had other ideas. Rachel marched straight over to the sales lady and said, "Mommy isn't playing with me any more. She would not leave me. Is she hiding in there with you?"

To Rachel, the fact that I didn't answer her right away didn't mean I had forsaken her. It only meant I didn't do what she expected. She knew that I would take care of her.

We should have the same concept of God's presence. He may not answer as we would expect and we may not hear him answer at all. But he promised never to leave us or forsake us. Even when we don't feel His presence or think He's listening, He's faithful to us. He's faithful even when we're faithless. He's watching for us even when we're playing games or hiding from Him. He may be waiting for something from us, but he's watching and waiting faithfully.

anything but typical



He's Been Faithful by Carol Cymbalta

In my moments of fear,
Through every pain every tear
There's a God who's been faithful to me
When my strength was all gone,
When my heart had no song
Still my God has been faithful to me
Every word He promised is true
What I thought was impossible
I've seen my God do

He's been faithful, faithful to me
Looking back His love and mercy I see
When in my heart I have questioned
And failed to believe
He's been faithful, faithful to me

When my heart looked away,
Though many times I could not pray
Even then He's been faithful to me
The days I've spent so selfishly,
Reaching out for what pleased me
Still in love He's been faithful to me
And every time I come back to Him
I see Him waiting with His open arms
And I know once again

He's been faithful, faithful to me
Looking back His love and mercy I see
When in my heart I have questioned
Even failed to believe
Yet He's been faithful, faithful to me.

What kind of church are you?

Several years ago, my husband and I went to Ireland for 5 wonderful days. He was running the Dublin Marathon with the Arthritis Foundation and I had the pleasure of wandering the streets of Dublin while he ran.

I spent a great part of the time during the marathon exploring Christ Church in Dublin. (http://www.cccdub.ie/index.html) It is a beautiful church and so full of history. The first church on that spot was a Viking church built around 1030 and the gospel of Jesus Christ has been proclaimed from that spot ever since. I found myself standing in the nave with my eyes drawn toward the high altar and upward to the beautiful windows. As I looked around, I could see bits of the oldest existing Romanesque construction from the chapter house. One of the chapels in the back still has the original floor tiles that were preserved even through the renovation of the Victorian Age.

When I gone home, I wrote the following in the scrapbook:

To walk into Christ Church is to come face to face with another time. It gives me an expanded concept of sanctuary as a haven of worship and contact with God. From centuries past, people have come here to offer prayers for peace, mercy, forgiveness, and joy. The structure itself is a testament to the devotion of those who have been here. From the unnamed stonemasons who cut the blocks to the king buried in the nave to the 13th century tilemakers to the Victorian children who contributed their pennies to replace broken windows to today's mothers who meet in one of the chapels regularly to pray for their children - everywhere are outward signs of inward adoration.

It's hard for American Christians to think of churches as anything but auditoriums for preaching with attached educational space, but medieval churches were not just places for Sunday meetings. They were the life and center of the community. Life happened in the shadow and within sight of the steeple. The presence of God's community was constant. Going to the church was an every day event - not just Christmas and Easter. It was where community happened.

So what does church mean to us? Is it a place we plan to attend for Christmas, Easter, weddings, and funerals? Is it where we go to meet people? Is is a place we only go when necessary? Or is it our connection to the life which we find in God?

For me, my church is the place where I am grounded. It is the place where I am reminded whose I am. I pray and study and worship at home. I certainly worship in song in my car, and I am constantly aware that I am God's child. But church is like my soul coming home. Sanctuary means more to me than the space where we have services on Sunday. It is a safe haven and a protected place. It is the place I go for security. And the more often I am there, the easier it is to stay grounded in the world outside its walls. But really, it's not the building that makes me feel that way, but it is the people - my brothers and sisters in Christ - who are there. The building and spaces are just physical reminders of that deeper truth.

Now permit me please, to take this idea a step further. Jesus made it clear that His Kingdom could not be contained within walls. We, the people, are the His Church. We are the sanctuary for the world. We are to be the emissaries of safety and security that the world finds when it is looking for God.

What kind of church are you? Are you strong and solid? Are you a work of devotion to God? Have you spent the time for maintenance and upkeep? When people are around you, do they feel the shadow of the Almighty?


When Its All Said and Done by Jim Cowan

When it's all been said and done
There is just one thing that matters
Did I do my best to live for truth
Did I live my life for You
When it's all been said and done
All my treasures will mean nothing
Only what I've done for love's Reward
Will stand the test of time

Lord Your mercy is so great
That You look beyond our Weakness
And find purest gold in miry clay
Making sinners into saints
I will always sing Your praise
Here on earth and ever after
For You've shown me Heaven's my True home
When it's all been said and done
You're my life when life is gone
Lord I'll live my life for You

© 1999 Integrity's Hosanna! Music
Recorded by Robin Mark: Revival in Belfast