A couple of “asides” in a recent sermon of mine were upsetting to at least one hearer. (Others may have been upset, but did not tell me.) Our exchange after the service was respectful on both sides, and neither of us changed our minds. It’s not important to go into the specific issue, but the incident made me think again about the awesome task and privilege of preaching.
At First Church, we pastors customarily use one of the texts in the Revised Common Lectionary, a three-year schedule of Scripture passages that takes us through large parts of the Bible. On most Sundays, there are readings from the Old Testament, a Psalm, the New Testament (Acts or one of the epistles), and a Gospel. After some thought, study, and prayer, we usually focus on one of the selections and do our best to explore its meaning—in its own time, and for today.
Karl Barth, the great 20th century theologian, said that the faithful preacher should prepare a sermon with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. Because I love the historical study of the Bible, that part is easiest for me. I have to watch myself about sermon space, so that I don’t go on and on with the Bible background I so enjoy exploring, telling people more than they care to know about why the passage was written, in what situation, for whom, and more. I have to remind myself of the second part of Barth’s injunction—the newspaper, the context of current events—in the world and in the lives of the people in our congregation. I believe that people are hoping to hear something that is relevant to their lives this very week, and I try hard to make the connection between the ancient words and our current situation. I’m often surprised and grateful at how easy that is. Much of the Bible is truly timeless. Although our situation is vastly different from that of people of Bible times, we can see clearly that they dealt with the same human emotions we experience.
I do not believe a pastor should ever abuse the power and privilege of preaching by letting partisan politics intrude. But the Bible is full of exhortations and instructions about how people are to live together in community. The Bible speaks on war and peace, on justice and mercy, on taking care of those among us who cannot care for themselves, on the need for ethical, trustworthy leaders. In today’s world, these are often political as well as moral issues.
So what’s a preacher to do? I can only end where I begin. I start with Scripture. I read and think and study and pray…and in my small congregations, I see many of your faces before me as I do that. And then, with fear and trembling, I write and I speak. They’re not God’s words—far from it!—but they’re the best I can do, week by week.
A preacher friend of mine, when asked his political leaning by a new congregation, replied, “I’m neither Democratic nor Republican—I’m Biblical.” That’s what I strive to be, in great confidence that the Bible speaks to us today.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Practitioners
Angela Melville recently forwarded to me a journal entry from a cousin, Berry Simpson. As I read it, I experienced one of those “I wish I’d said that!” moments. Parenhetically, I will add that these days I spend less time wishing I had said whatever it is, and more time simply being grateful that someone said it for me. I am very grateful to this journal-writer, and am quoting him with his permission.
Simpson wrote about listening to an NPR Weekend Edition interview with Stuart Davis, musician, writer, and comic. He recalled that Davis described himself as a Buddhist practitioner, adding, “I have followed that path for 15 years.” I heard the same interview, but missed the implication of the word, “practitioner.” Simpson got it and reflected on it. He wrote: “I wondered why we don’t use language like that about following Jesus. Why don’t I say ‘I am a Christian practitioner—I have been following the path of Jesus for 45 years’? I am comfortable to say, I believe in Jesus; why is it uncomfortable to say, I practice Jesus?”
I have said to a number of people that there are few things I regret about the process of aging—only my diminished eyesight, and before that, my ability to sing pleasantly and happily. When I mentioned the latter loss to a person who knows something about singing, the question came back: “When do you sing? How much do you sing? Do you practice?”
Oops…no good answers. Once my preaching schedule took me out of the Sanctuary Choir, I stopped singing except during worship services. I do not practice. At first I didn’t realize how the weekly choir rehearsal kept me in good voice. After a year or two, however, I realized that the time for me to sing solos was past. I thought about practicing at home, but found that I felt a little silly trying to vocalize alone. And now, sadly, I often do not like the sound of my own singing voice. I wonder how it would be if I had practiced.
Being a practitioner of medicine, the field in which we most often use that word, requires extensive training and on-the-job experience. Those who leave the field for even a short time say it takes real effort to catch up when they return. Better to keep at it!
Being a Christian takes practice. Better to keep at it! Being a Christian means practicing the presence of God through prayer, meditation, study, worship, and action. Not everyone needs exactly the same combination—our prescriptions will vary, depending on our spiritual type, situation, and time of life. And in this community of practitioners, you can get a lot of help finding your way and support for your practice.
That’s the way it is for me with singing—I don’t sound the way I used to, but when I sing with you at church, it’s not so bad. Maybe I’ll practice at home, imagining that you are with me. In music, as in Christian prayer, study, worship, and action—perhaps even meditation—there is great support in having others with us as we practice. We can help each other be practitioners of the Christian faith, following that path together.
Simpson’s journal entry cites an encounter between Jesus and Peter. He writes: “In a well-known Bible story, Jesus asked Peter, one of his closest friends and disciples, “Do you love me?” following with the specific command, “Feed my sheep.” (John 21:15-17) In other words, don’t just say you love me, do something about it. Don’t just love, act. In other words, be a practitioner.”
Thanks, Berry Simpson, for inspiring me to practice!
Simpson wrote about listening to an NPR Weekend Edition interview with Stuart Davis, musician, writer, and comic. He recalled that Davis described himself as a Buddhist practitioner, adding, “I have followed that path for 15 years.” I heard the same interview, but missed the implication of the word, “practitioner.” Simpson got it and reflected on it. He wrote: “I wondered why we don’t use language like that about following Jesus. Why don’t I say ‘I am a Christian practitioner—I have been following the path of Jesus for 45 years’? I am comfortable to say, I believe in Jesus; why is it uncomfortable to say, I practice Jesus?”
I have said to a number of people that there are few things I regret about the process of aging—only my diminished eyesight, and before that, my ability to sing pleasantly and happily. When I mentioned the latter loss to a person who knows something about singing, the question came back: “When do you sing? How much do you sing? Do you practice?”
Oops…no good answers. Once my preaching schedule took me out of the Sanctuary Choir, I stopped singing except during worship services. I do not practice. At first I didn’t realize how the weekly choir rehearsal kept me in good voice. After a year or two, however, I realized that the time for me to sing solos was past. I thought about practicing at home, but found that I felt a little silly trying to vocalize alone. And now, sadly, I often do not like the sound of my own singing voice. I wonder how it would be if I had practiced.
Being a practitioner of medicine, the field in which we most often use that word, requires extensive training and on-the-job experience. Those who leave the field for even a short time say it takes real effort to catch up when they return. Better to keep at it!
Being a Christian takes practice. Better to keep at it! Being a Christian means practicing the presence of God through prayer, meditation, study, worship, and action. Not everyone needs exactly the same combination—our prescriptions will vary, depending on our spiritual type, situation, and time of life. And in this community of practitioners, you can get a lot of help finding your way and support for your practice.
That’s the way it is for me with singing—I don’t sound the way I used to, but when I sing with you at church, it’s not so bad. Maybe I’ll practice at home, imagining that you are with me. In music, as in Christian prayer, study, worship, and action—perhaps even meditation—there is great support in having others with us as we practice. We can help each other be practitioners of the Christian faith, following that path together.
Simpson’s journal entry cites an encounter between Jesus and Peter. He writes: “In a well-known Bible story, Jesus asked Peter, one of his closest friends and disciples, “Do you love me?” following with the specific command, “Feed my sheep.” (John 21:15-17) In other words, don’t just say you love me, do something about it. Don’t just love, act. In other words, be a practitioner.”
Thanks, Berry Simpson, for inspiring me to practice!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Listening when we can't see!
There I was, at the corner of 45th St. and Lamar Blvd., waiting for a bus. And it was hot—92 degrees hot! When I decided to make the trip by bus and on foot, instead of enlisting a driver, it was still mild spring weather, and I was planning to enjoy the walk along Lamar and through Central Park over to 38th Street. But the weather didn’t cooperate. That afternoon, spring seemed to be over, and summer was upon us. I was standing in the sun, squinting through two layers of dark glasses, trying to see, in the steady stream of traffic, if a bus was coming, when I heard a voice calling my name: “Kath-a-leen, do you want a ride?”
I had been to see Dr. Dooner, my retina specialist, and had had all sorts of things involving bright lights and medications done to my eyes. I couldn’t see who it was that was calling to me; I couldn’t recognize the car, on the inside lane, well away from the curb. But the voice sounded familiar, and even though I couldn’t think who it belonged to, even though I couldn’t see who it was, I followed the voice across the outside lane of cars to the one carrying my rescuer. In the act of opening the car door, I was beginning to explain, “I can’t see—I don’t know who it is,” as the driver said, “It’s David—from church.” I’m pretty sure I recognized him before I actually got into the car. He interrupted the errand he was doing to drive me home, several miles out of his way. And of course he told the story when he got back to the church, so I have taken a fair amount of teasing about standing on street corners waiting to be picked up by strange men.
Before I go any further, let me say that you must never ever get into a car with a strange person (except possibly prearranged cab or limousine drivers, etc.). People used to do that in the olden days, but it’s not safe anymore. Do not get in a strange car with a stranger. The thing that made it safe for me was that I recognized the voice. Even though I couldn’t think who it was, at first, I knew the voice belonged to someone I could trust.
Gerald Borchert, a Bible scholar who lived for a time in Israel, learned about how sheep learn to recognize the voice of their shepherd. He describes two incidents illustrating this. In the first, he watched a shepherd lead his sheep through the busy traffic in Jerusalem, singing and whistling to keep the sheep together in the midst of many distractions. In the second, he was in a village where four shepherds shared a sheepfold—the enclosure where the sheep were taken in the evening, after a day of grazing. In the morning, each shepherd in turn would sing and call his sheep, who, he said, “dutifully separated from the larger flock and began to follow him to the hills for their daylight feeding.” The sheep knew the shepherd’s voice, and they trusted the bearer of that voice to keep them safe in the midst of traffic, and to lead them to a safe place for grazing.
There are lots of voices that come to us—and at us—every day. Some are from the media, relentlessly urging us to buy, to go, to do, to believe what they are saying. Some are from people we know and love or tolerate or don’t love at all; some are from our own critical selves. They bombard us with messages, many of which are not helpful.
In the midst of all the voices, how good it is to hear one saying, “I know you…I love you…follow me.” That is the voice of the Good Shepherd, the one who wants to get us out the heat of too much of everything, and into the place of green pastures and cool water. When you can't see exactly where you're going or what you need to do(and even when you can!), listen for that voice, and trust it! It will lead you to the place you’re supposed to be.
I had been to see Dr. Dooner, my retina specialist, and had had all sorts of things involving bright lights and medications done to my eyes. I couldn’t see who it was that was calling to me; I couldn’t recognize the car, on the inside lane, well away from the curb. But the voice sounded familiar, and even though I couldn’t think who it belonged to, even though I couldn’t see who it was, I followed the voice across the outside lane of cars to the one carrying my rescuer. In the act of opening the car door, I was beginning to explain, “I can’t see—I don’t know who it is,” as the driver said, “It’s David—from church.” I’m pretty sure I recognized him before I actually got into the car. He interrupted the errand he was doing to drive me home, several miles out of his way. And of course he told the story when he got back to the church, so I have taken a fair amount of teasing about standing on street corners waiting to be picked up by strange men.
Before I go any further, let me say that you must never ever get into a car with a strange person (except possibly prearranged cab or limousine drivers, etc.). People used to do that in the olden days, but it’s not safe anymore. Do not get in a strange car with a stranger. The thing that made it safe for me was that I recognized the voice. Even though I couldn’t think who it was, at first, I knew the voice belonged to someone I could trust.
Gerald Borchert, a Bible scholar who lived for a time in Israel, learned about how sheep learn to recognize the voice of their shepherd. He describes two incidents illustrating this. In the first, he watched a shepherd lead his sheep through the busy traffic in Jerusalem, singing and whistling to keep the sheep together in the midst of many distractions. In the second, he was in a village where four shepherds shared a sheepfold—the enclosure where the sheep were taken in the evening, after a day of grazing. In the morning, each shepherd in turn would sing and call his sheep, who, he said, “dutifully separated from the larger flock and began to follow him to the hills for their daylight feeding.” The sheep knew the shepherd’s voice, and they trusted the bearer of that voice to keep them safe in the midst of traffic, and to lead them to a safe place for grazing.
There are lots of voices that come to us—and at us—every day. Some are from the media, relentlessly urging us to buy, to go, to do, to believe what they are saying. Some are from people we know and love or tolerate or don’t love at all; some are from our own critical selves. They bombard us with messages, many of which are not helpful.
In the midst of all the voices, how good it is to hear one saying, “I know you…I love you…follow me.” That is the voice of the Good Shepherd, the one who wants to get us out the heat of too much of everything, and into the place of green pastures and cool water. When you can't see exactly where you're going or what you need to do(and even when you can!), listen for that voice, and trust it! It will lead you to the place you’re supposed to be.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Wal-Mart (and other) ministries
The folks at Wal-Mart international headquarters probably don’t know it, but one of their stores in Austin is the site of a significant ministry. Robbie Youngblood may be retired from our staff, but not from ministry. After all, she is only 88 years old, and still has much to do. Several times a week she goes to the Wal-Mart near her south Austin home to do her walking. If you know Robbie, you will not be surprised to know that of course she has made friends there among the employees. She knows their birthdays and sends cards. She takes treats to them for special holidays. She knows when family members are sick or in trouble, and always prays for them. And of course, they always exchange hugs. In a recent e-mail, she described sharing a thought from a Lenten devotional that Martha Stuber, our wonderful volunteer HomeCare coordinator, had given her. The devotional challenges readers to find six words to summarize their lives. Robbie shared her six words with her friends there at Wal-Mart and asked them to think about theirs and share them with her on her next visit. Robbie finds a ministry wherever she goes!.
Last week, while having lunch with friends at the International House of Pancakes (another exotic place), a church member came in with five or six young people. As they passed by our booth, she greeted us, saying she was having fun with some of her friends. I’m guessing she was giving those a special treat during their spring break—they all looked very happy.
I can’t even imagine how many other church members are engaged in ministries of love and service in our community, but I’m sure they number in the hundreds, if not more. Some are attached to community organizations, but no doubt many of them are your very own. I’d love to know about them—people who drive for Meals on Wheels or Austin Caregivers, those who serve as mentors or tutors in public schools, who volunteer at hospitals, or who simply are intentional about being present to people around them, like Robbie. Some of you haven’t even realized that what you are doing is ministry.
It would be great to read about your ministry in the comments section that follows—you don’t have to sign your name if you’d rather remain anonymous. But even if you don’t let me know—just keep on! You are, absolutely, the body of Christ in the world.
The folks at Wal-Mart international headquarters probably don’t know it, but one of their stores in Austin is the site of a significant ministry. Robbie Youngblood may be retired from our staff, but not from ministry. After all, she is only 88 years old, and still has much to do. Several times a week she goes to the Wal-Mart near her south Austin home to do her walking. If you know Robbie, you will not be surprised to know that of course she has made friends there among the employees. She knows their birthdays and sends cards. She takes treats to them for special holidays. She knows when family members are sick or in trouble, and always prays for them. And of course, they always exchange hugs. In a recent e-mail, she described sharing a thought from a Lenten devotional that Martha Stuber, our wonderful volunteer HomeCare coordinator, had given her. The devotional challenges readers to find six words to summarize their lives. Robbie shared her six words with her friends there at Wal-Mart and asked them to think about theirs and share them with her on her next visit. Robbie finds a ministry wherever she goes!.
Last week, while having lunch with friends at the International House of Pancakes (another exotic place), a church member came in with five or six young people. As they passed by our booth, she greeted us, saying she was having fun with some of her friends. I’m guessing she was giving those a special treat during their spring break—they all looked very happy.
I can’t even imagine how many other church members are engaged in ministries of love and service in our community, but I’m sure they number in the hundreds, if not more. Some are attached to community organizations, but no doubt many of them are your very own. I’d love to know about them—people who drive for Meals on Wheels or Austin Caregivers, those who serve as mentors or tutors in public schools, who volunteer at hospitals, or who simply are intentional about being present to people around them, like Robbie. Some of you haven’t even realized that what you are doing is ministry.
It would be great to read about your ministry in the comments section that follows—you don’t have to sign your name if you’d rather remain anonymous. But even if you don’t let me know—just keep on! You are, absolutely, the body of Christ in the world.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Feeling quietly proud.;…
I think it was some character from the Pogo comic strip of yesteryear who used to say (usually after some ridiculous catastrophe) that he was “quietly proud.” The phrase has become part of my vocabulary, but I’ll admit that sometimes I’m not totally quiet when I’m feeling proud.
I was feeling quietly proud several times last week during our Conference Board of Ordained Ministry at Mount Wesley…specifically, when two First Church alums came for their ordination interviews. Kyle Toomire, our former associate pastor and Director of Youth Ministries, was unanimously approved for elder’s orders, and Deana Hendrix, a former member, was unanimously approved for deacon’s orders. Both Deana and Kyle began their candidacy for ordained ministry at First Church. Kyle is now pastor of a new church, Journey UMC in Kyle, Texas (yes, that’s Kyle in Kyle!) and Deana is a chaplain with Methodist Health Care Ministries in San Antonio. She has recently been tapped to serve as lead chaplain at a new hospital in the Methodist system.
Both Kyle and Deana were exemplary candidates who showed that they are effective in ministry and faithful in responding to God’s call on their lives. And as I thought of the role First Church played in their lives, in their call and in their preparation for ordained ministry, I couldn’t help feeling quietly proud!
At the risk of forgetting someone, I list others who began steps toward ordained ministry while at First Church who are now serving honorably and well in our Conference—Mel Hazlewood, pastor at LaGrange; Jason Teague, pastor at Comfort; Peter Castles, associate pastor at Manchaca; and Barbara Ruth, Corpus Christi District Superintendent. Two of our own staff members, Jen Stuart and Cathy Stone, are currently enrolled in studies at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, and are in the early stages of candidacy for ordained ministry. Considering all these people and their gifts for ministry, I am more than quietly proud—I am enthusiastically proud!
It is a wonderful thing to be part of a church in which members understand their call to discipleship in the church and in the world. And it’s a blessing to the church and the world far beyond us when that church sends out into ordained ministry men and women with particular gifts for word, sacrament, order, and service. All of us at First Church should be proud—maybe not so quietly—that we are a missional church, a teaching church. And who knows who else among us might be discerning a call? I’ll be quietly proud when I hear about it!
I think it was some character from the Pogo comic strip of yesteryear who used to say (usually after some ridiculous catastrophe) that he was “quietly proud.” The phrase has become part of my vocabulary, but I’ll admit that sometimes I’m not totally quiet when I’m feeling proud.
I was feeling quietly proud several times last week during our Conference Board of Ordained Ministry at Mount Wesley…specifically, when two First Church alums came for their ordination interviews. Kyle Toomire, our former associate pastor and Director of Youth Ministries, was unanimously approved for elder’s orders, and Deana Hendrix, a former member, was unanimously approved for deacon’s orders. Both Deana and Kyle began their candidacy for ordained ministry at First Church. Kyle is now pastor of a new church, Journey UMC in Kyle, Texas (yes, that’s Kyle in Kyle!) and Deana is a chaplain with Methodist Health Care Ministries in San Antonio. She has recently been tapped to serve as lead chaplain at a new hospital in the Methodist system.
Both Kyle and Deana were exemplary candidates who showed that they are effective in ministry and faithful in responding to God’s call on their lives. And as I thought of the role First Church played in their lives, in their call and in their preparation for ordained ministry, I couldn’t help feeling quietly proud!
At the risk of forgetting someone, I list others who began steps toward ordained ministry while at First Church who are now serving honorably and well in our Conference—Mel Hazlewood, pastor at LaGrange; Jason Teague, pastor at Comfort; Peter Castles, associate pastor at Manchaca; and Barbara Ruth, Corpus Christi District Superintendent. Two of our own staff members, Jen Stuart and Cathy Stone, are currently enrolled in studies at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, and are in the early stages of candidacy for ordained ministry. Considering all these people and their gifts for ministry, I am more than quietly proud—I am enthusiastically proud!
It is a wonderful thing to be part of a church in which members understand their call to discipleship in the church and in the world. And it’s a blessing to the church and the world far beyond us when that church sends out into ordained ministry men and women with particular gifts for word, sacrament, order, and service. All of us at First Church should be proud—maybe not so quietly—that we are a missional church, a teaching church. And who knows who else among us might be discerning a call? I’ll be quietly proud when I hear about it!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Knowing it by heart
On a recent Sunday morning, I was invited to a pizza party with our third grade Sunday School class, hosted by their brilliant teachers, Debbie Shaw and Tim Pavlovich. Being old-school in my dietary selections, I had never before eaten pizza before lunchtime, although of course I’d heard many accounts of pizza for breakfast from others. Now I’m a believer—I learned that pizza works great for brunch—and probably for breakfast, too.
The pizza party was not a regular occurrence, as indicated by the excitement and anticipation of the sixteen children crowded around tables in their classroom, bright with all kinds of posters and pictures. The event was a celebration of their latest achievement in the Bible study that is the center of their curriculum. They had memorized the names of the books of the New Testament, in order, and had invited me to come and hear their recitation. They reeled them off in rapid-fire succession, at the tops of their voices. There was maybe a little stumbling over Galatians and Ephesians”, but they came back strong for Philippians,and Colossians, without the slightest hesitation over First and Second Thessalonians. They soared on to a triumphant conclusion: “First John, Second John, Third John, Jude, Revelation!” (And the exclamation point was absolutely audible!)
After a little discussion about using their Bibles (presented to them in a worship service in September), we enjoyed the pizza together. Next on the morning's schedule was decorating gingerbread houses to be taken to the Children’s Hospital.
That session had all the elements needed not just for a worthwhile class session, but for remembering what it means to be United Methodist. There was food, there was study, there was service to others.
The children had used their minds (and who knows how many memory aids suggested by those creative teachers) to memorize that formidable list of twenty-seven books, many with strange-sounding names. Some might ask why that was necessary—after all, every Bible has a table of contents. But in that classroom, in that setting, where every child is more than welcome, where every child is loved and appreciated and encouraged, the boys and girls were not just memorizing that information—they were learning it “by heart.” They know the list by heart, and they know more—they know that their church is a community of love and learning and service.
We all know lots of stuff, stored for accessibility in various parts of our brains. I’ve forgotten a whole lot of stuff that I put in my mind a long time ago (and not so long ago!), but there are some things I know by heart, and I don’t forget them. I know I am a beloved child of God, called to use every resource entrusted to me in faithful response to that love, and I never know that more clearly than when I’m with the people of this church.
Those third graders may not always remember the order of the books of the New Testament, as their minds get full of other valuable information. But they will never forget what they know by heart. I’m so grateful for these teachers and all the others in our church who know and teach from their hearts!
The pizza party was not a regular occurrence, as indicated by the excitement and anticipation of the sixteen children crowded around tables in their classroom, bright with all kinds of posters and pictures. The event was a celebration of their latest achievement in the Bible study that is the center of their curriculum. They had memorized the names of the books of the New Testament, in order, and had invited me to come and hear their recitation. They reeled them off in rapid-fire succession, at the tops of their voices. There was maybe a little stumbling over Galatians and Ephesians”, but they came back strong for Philippians,and Colossians, without the slightest hesitation over First and Second Thessalonians. They soared on to a triumphant conclusion: “First John, Second John, Third John, Jude, Revelation!” (And the exclamation point was absolutely audible!)
After a little discussion about using their Bibles (presented to them in a worship service in September), we enjoyed the pizza together. Next on the morning's schedule was decorating gingerbread houses to be taken to the Children’s Hospital.
That session had all the elements needed not just for a worthwhile class session, but for remembering what it means to be United Methodist. There was food, there was study, there was service to others.
The children had used their minds (and who knows how many memory aids suggested by those creative teachers) to memorize that formidable list of twenty-seven books, many with strange-sounding names. Some might ask why that was necessary—after all, every Bible has a table of contents. But in that classroom, in that setting, where every child is more than welcome, where every child is loved and appreciated and encouraged, the boys and girls were not just memorizing that information—they were learning it “by heart.” They know the list by heart, and they know more—they know that their church is a community of love and learning and service.
We all know lots of stuff, stored for accessibility in various parts of our brains. I’ve forgotten a whole lot of stuff that I put in my mind a long time ago (and not so long ago!), but there are some things I know by heart, and I don’t forget them. I know I am a beloved child of God, called to use every resource entrusted to me in faithful response to that love, and I never know that more clearly than when I’m with the people of this church.
Those third graders may not always remember the order of the books of the New Testament, as their minds get full of other valuable information. But they will never forget what they know by heart. I’m so grateful for these teachers and all the others in our church who know and teach from their hearts!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Hard Candy Christmas
People of a certain age or very eclectic musical taste may recognize the line above as the title of a song from a musical theater piece dating back to the 70’s. The title is a bit risqué for reproduction here, but it involves a business that called itself the best in Texas.
The song describes the hard times ahead when the business sees that it must close, leaving employees with expectations of only “hard candy” for their Christmas celebration…no money for gifts or expensive treats, only cheap hard candy.
I know there are a great many families in Austin who would have only a “hard candy Christmas” without the generosity of this congregations and others, who make a special effort to help those in need at this time of year. And there are countless others, in our nation and around the world, for whom every day is a “hard candy” day. Each day’s news brings us more reports of unemployment, failing businesses, serious recession, and fear of even worse to come.
Because I always to take responsibility for whatever situation confronts me, especially if it’s one in which people are getting hurt, I’ve been reflecting a lot on what I can and should do about it. Do I save more, worrying about future security, or spend more, doing what I can to pump up the economy? (As if my very limited purchasing power would make a difference!)
I expect I will do what I usually do at Christmas time…I’ve already shopped happily and fairly boldly at our Alternative Gift Market, so some of my money will be spent here in Austin and around the world to help those most in need have a chance to better themselves. I’ll shop specifically for one family adopted by my Walk to Emmaus Reunion Group. I’ll give modestly but enthusiastically to many of the organizations that meet human needs in places I’ll never go. And I’ll continue to marvel at the extravagant generosity of those in First Church who give so much to others all year long, and especially at this time of year.
There have been some “hard candy Christmases” in my life, and there may be again. But with or without presents and treats, I know that Christ comes...perhaps especially when times are hard, to people in need. And I am grateful that the love of Christ is shown so clearly in and among the people who are First United Methodist Church!
Happy Advent—Merry Christmas!
The song describes the hard times ahead when the business sees that it must close, leaving employees with expectations of only “hard candy” for their Christmas celebration…no money for gifts or expensive treats, only cheap hard candy.
I know there are a great many families in Austin who would have only a “hard candy Christmas” without the generosity of this congregations and others, who make a special effort to help those in need at this time of year. And there are countless others, in our nation and around the world, for whom every day is a “hard candy” day. Each day’s news brings us more reports of unemployment, failing businesses, serious recession, and fear of even worse to come.
Because I always to take responsibility for whatever situation confronts me, especially if it’s one in which people are getting hurt, I’ve been reflecting a lot on what I can and should do about it. Do I save more, worrying about future security, or spend more, doing what I can to pump up the economy? (As if my very limited purchasing power would make a difference!)
I expect I will do what I usually do at Christmas time…I’ve already shopped happily and fairly boldly at our Alternative Gift Market, so some of my money will be spent here in Austin and around the world to help those most in need have a chance to better themselves. I’ll shop specifically for one family adopted by my Walk to Emmaus Reunion Group. I’ll give modestly but enthusiastically to many of the organizations that meet human needs in places I’ll never go. And I’ll continue to marvel at the extravagant generosity of those in First Church who give so much to others all year long, and especially at this time of year.
There have been some “hard candy Christmases” in my life, and there may be again. But with or without presents and treats, I know that Christ comes...perhaps especially when times are hard, to people in need. And I am grateful that the love of Christ is shown so clearly in and among the people who are First United Methodist Church!
Happy Advent—Merry Christmas!
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