As a person who watches and listens to way too many media newscasts, I've found the last months very difficult. A year ago I was full of hope, believing our nation was on the brink of a new season of comity and cooperation in government and public affairs. Now, in this winter of almost everyone's discontent, I find it hard to be hopeful. Then, as I was looking through my Christmas files, I came across a copy of a poem I received from a friend and brother in ministry, Dr. James Mayfield. Jim came to First Church as a U.T. student in my first year as Director of Youth Ministries, and his friendship and encouragement has been a constant in my life for more than fifty years. He sent this poem as a Christmas greeting in 1998, and I find it speaks to me today. I share it with his permission. It's titled "Joy to the World."
In this time when
words are hurled like spears
to add wound to wound
and pain to pain,
in this time when
the smoldering smog of resentments
and
self-righteous angers
increase the darkness of this winter
we are enduring with profound discontent,
a carol is somewhere sung
and once more
the Word of hope
is flung into the darkness.
The tragic omnipotence of love
begins its work again
as God refuses to give up on us
and
sends to us once more
the angels' song
proclaiming a world-tranforming birth.
I'll keep on singing the carols...will you?
Monday, December 28, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Christmas shopping
A long time ago we used to say, with some frustration, “It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, but the stores have their Christmas decorations up. Now we make that kind of remark (complaint?) about Christmas items for sale even before Halloween. When I recently heard a church member say that he had finished all his Christmas shopping, I was filled with a mixture of awe and envy. I am only at the fretting stage.
And fret I do! I love the Advent-Christmas season! I love planning the music for the services I work with; I even love struggling with the sometimes very peculiar Scriptures selected for Advent; I’m filled with gratitude and wonder at the generosity and resourcefulness of our folks who give so much and do so much to make the Christmas season joyful for those who have little. But I fret about gifts. Even when I’m shopping for an unknown child or mom in a family my Reunion Group will sponsor through Any Baby Can, I fret—even agonize—about what to choose. I’m pretty sure I will choose the wrong thing, and can only hope that my selection will be useful, if not loved.
Shopping for family members got easier for me some years ago with the introduction of the Alternative Gift Market in our church. I select gifts that match their interests or situations—educational materials for the teachers and former teachers, farming help for the brother who grew up on the farm and still loves the land, business support for women for my feminist sisters (of both blood and friendship). Each year there’s an array of choices in these categories and others to suit our interests. One year James and Susannah put their resources together in one giant gift, and gave the family a water buffalo. We think about him (her?) often, and wonder about the family and village that large creature has blessed.
This Sunday (and probably again on December6--I always forget someone the first time--I'll go shopping at the Market and choose lots of gifts. But then I’ll still do some shopping for my immediate family, not without fretting. And I’ll tell myself, as I always do, that even though choosing gifts is not my best thing, all my offerings will be received with love and good humor. I trust those who receive them to know that my gifts are representative of the giver—far from perfect, but full of love.
And fret I do! I love the Advent-Christmas season! I love planning the music for the services I work with; I even love struggling with the sometimes very peculiar Scriptures selected for Advent; I’m filled with gratitude and wonder at the generosity and resourcefulness of our folks who give so much and do so much to make the Christmas season joyful for those who have little. But I fret about gifts. Even when I’m shopping for an unknown child or mom in a family my Reunion Group will sponsor through Any Baby Can, I fret—even agonize—about what to choose. I’m pretty sure I will choose the wrong thing, and can only hope that my selection will be useful, if not loved.
Shopping for family members got easier for me some years ago with the introduction of the Alternative Gift Market in our church. I select gifts that match their interests or situations—educational materials for the teachers and former teachers, farming help for the brother who grew up on the farm and still loves the land, business support for women for my feminist sisters (of both blood and friendship). Each year there’s an array of choices in these categories and others to suit our interests. One year James and Susannah put their resources together in one giant gift, and gave the family a water buffalo. We think about him (her?) often, and wonder about the family and village that large creature has blessed.
This Sunday (and probably again on December6--I always forget someone the first time--I'll go shopping at the Market and choose lots of gifts. But then I’ll still do some shopping for my immediate family, not without fretting. And I’ll tell myself, as I always do, that even though choosing gifts is not my best thing, all my offerings will be received with love and good humor. I trust those who receive them to know that my gifts are representative of the giver—far from perfect, but full of love.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Has God changed?
That question has been addressed by people far wiser and more learned than I. Books on the so-called evolution of God have been popular. The question came back to me in recent sessions of our Disciple Bible Study class. We’re in the early Old Testament—a part of the Bible I dearly love, and feel very passionate about teaching. There are some wonderful and terrible stories about the people of Israel and their God.
The wonderful stories describe God’s love and care for the people, shown in God’s mighty acts of creation and deliverance from slavery, among others. There are some terrible stories in which God commands the people to kill thousands of people--or so they think. And there are some really funny stories in which faithful men (Abraham and Moses) argue with God, finally cajoling the deity into doing the right thing.
People talk about “the Old Testament God” as if that one were a mean, ruthless old man, full of wrath; and the “New Testament God” as one who is loving, forgiving, accepting, and gracious. Sounds as if God evolved and got nicer over the centuries.
I propose that people evolved and got nicer and wiser over the centuries. Primitive people had a primitive understanding of God. As time passed, they learned from their experiences and from prophets and others who had learned to listen to the leading of the Spirit. They began to understand that God was the God of all people, with love enough for everyone in the world, whether or not they knew the right name and the right way to worship. In Jesus we can see the one whose life showed the fullness of God. Jesus showed us that God wanted us to love our enemies, not kill them.
Has God changed? No. Have people changed? Yes—but not enough. There are still places where people want to kill everyone who is not like them. There are places where there is prejudice and discrimination and hatred among people because of differences. We don’t make graven images anymore, but we do have a tendency to make God in their own image, rather than being willing to grow into the image of the God who made them. We tend to look for a God who approves of us and our way of doing things. We have some more evolving to do!
The wonderful stories describe God’s love and care for the people, shown in God’s mighty acts of creation and deliverance from slavery, among others. There are some terrible stories in which God commands the people to kill thousands of people--or so they think. And there are some really funny stories in which faithful men (Abraham and Moses) argue with God, finally cajoling the deity into doing the right thing.
People talk about “the Old Testament God” as if that one were a mean, ruthless old man, full of wrath; and the “New Testament God” as one who is loving, forgiving, accepting, and gracious. Sounds as if God evolved and got nicer over the centuries.
I propose that people evolved and got nicer and wiser over the centuries. Primitive people had a primitive understanding of God. As time passed, they learned from their experiences and from prophets and others who had learned to listen to the leading of the Spirit. They began to understand that God was the God of all people, with love enough for everyone in the world, whether or not they knew the right name and the right way to worship. In Jesus we can see the one whose life showed the fullness of God. Jesus showed us that God wanted us to love our enemies, not kill them.
Has God changed? No. Have people changed? Yes—but not enough. There are still places where people want to kill everyone who is not like them. There are places where there is prejudice and discrimination and hatred among people because of differences. We don’t make graven images anymore, but we do have a tendency to make God in their own image, rather than being willing to grow into the image of the God who made them. We tend to look for a God who approves of us and our way of doing things. We have some more evolving to do!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Remembering Ireta
First Church lost a dear and devoted friend when Ireta Kellberg died on September 5, after a courageous struggle with cancer. She served as our Financial Secretary for more than twenty-five years, always giving her very best.
In Ireta, the church got more much than a competent worker—we got a wonderful friend. Her job as financial secretary was all about numbers and dollars and cents, but her ministry was all about loving people. There was a whole cadre of church members—mostly retired gentlemen—who made it a point to bring their contributions to the church office personally every week. They could have put their offering envelopes into the plate on Sunday, but they came in person, so they could have a visit with Ireta. She made their gifts important, and she made them feel important and loved. And she managed not to make me feel stupid when, time and again, I would be late with information she needed, or when she have to explain for the umpteenth time how some fund worked, or help me think of the name of some long-time member whose identity had left my memory bank.
If you’ve been around the church any time at all, you know that our staff operates like a family. We are a family. We don’t always get along perfectly…we know each other’s flaws and peculiarities…we occasionally pick at each other….But we are family, and we love each other. We love each other, we loved Ireta, and she loved us.
In the staff family, she was like the big sister who sometimes lost patience with the little brother (this would be the youth director—it’s always the youth director!) who habitually overspent the budget and failed to turn in credit card receipts in timely fashion, but who would always be forgiven and restored to favor. She was like the aunt who would appear with wonderful gifts at the birth of a baby or a wedding or a birthday, the one who kept up with family members after they left the nest, and like the niece who kept up with the old ones and made sure they were still remembered and included in celebrations. She was the mom whom we could count on to come up with all our favorite foods for staff celebrations. She was the grandmother who cherished every child—staff or member— who came through the office. The doll clothes she made for Hannah Son are collector’s items! The Beanie Babies she sent to Russia with our mission team are being loved by dozens of children. For years, when her own grandchildren were little, packages of books, crafts, toys, dolls, whatever, would be delivered to the office several times a week—Ireta was the catalogue dealers’ best friend. The treasures she brought to the staff Christmas parties for our gift exchanges were always the ones most wanted, most often taken from the current lucky possessor. She instinctively knew what was just the right gift for every occasion…or for no occasion at all.
Ireta lived largely and generously, and made us all happier and richer for it. She gave us much more than each day’s work—she gave us her love, and among the many gifts, perhaps the best was Tami, a fearful and wonderful gift!
Our church family changed when Ireta retired from the staff, and of course, life has changed even more for her closer family. But Ireta leaves her imprint on all of us. We will remember! We will tell stories, and we will weep a little, and laugh a lot….and most of all, give thanks to God for our dear friend, Ireta.
First Church lost a dear and devoted friend when Ireta Kellberg died on September 5, after a courageous struggle with cancer. She served as our Financial Secretary for more than twenty-five years, always giving her very best.
In Ireta, the church got more much than a competent worker—we got a wonderful friend. Her job as financial secretary was all about numbers and dollars and cents, but her ministry was all about loving people. There was a whole cadre of church members—mostly retired gentlemen—who made it a point to bring their contributions to the church office personally every week. They could have put their offering envelopes into the plate on Sunday, but they came in person, so they could have a visit with Ireta. She made their gifts important, and she made them feel important and loved. And she managed not to make me feel stupid when, time and again, I would be late with information she needed, or when she have to explain for the umpteenth time how some fund worked, or help me think of the name of some long-time member whose identity had left my memory bank.
If you’ve been around the church any time at all, you know that our staff operates like a family. We are a family. We don’t always get along perfectly…we know each other’s flaws and peculiarities…we occasionally pick at each other….But we are family, and we love each other. We love each other, we loved Ireta, and she loved us.
In the staff family, she was like the big sister who sometimes lost patience with the little brother (this would be the youth director—it’s always the youth director!) who habitually overspent the budget and failed to turn in credit card receipts in timely fashion, but who would always be forgiven and restored to favor. She was like the aunt who would appear with wonderful gifts at the birth of a baby or a wedding or a birthday, the one who kept up with family members after they left the nest, and like the niece who kept up with the old ones and made sure they were still remembered and included in celebrations. She was the mom whom we could count on to come up with all our favorite foods for staff celebrations. She was the grandmother who cherished every child—staff or member— who came through the office. The doll clothes she made for Hannah Son are collector’s items! The Beanie Babies she sent to Russia with our mission team are being loved by dozens of children. For years, when her own grandchildren were little, packages of books, crafts, toys, dolls, whatever, would be delivered to the office several times a week—Ireta was the catalogue dealers’ best friend. The treasures she brought to the staff Christmas parties for our gift exchanges were always the ones most wanted, most often taken from the current lucky possessor. She instinctively knew what was just the right gift for every occasion…or for no occasion at all.
Ireta lived largely and generously, and made us all happier and richer for it. She gave us much more than each day’s work—she gave us her love, and among the many gifts, perhaps the best was Tami, a fearful and wonderful gift!
Our church family changed when Ireta retired from the staff, and of course, life has changed even more for her closer family. But Ireta leaves her imprint on all of us. We will remember! We will tell stories, and we will weep a little, and laugh a lot….and most of all, give thanks to God for our dear friend, Ireta.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Vacationn Anxiety
Vacation Anxiety
On Monday I’ll be leaving town for five days of vacation in Colorado. I’m spending the time with seven of my dearest friends in the world, so I know it will be a great time. We’ve been talking about a road trip for years, and this one (partly by air!) will be wonderful! And yet, I’m feeling stressed as I think about it. I’ve had very little to do for preparation (these friends always take care of me), so why am I stressed? I just need to pack my suitcase, have one more chat with the cat-caretaker, confirm my transportation to the airport, and I’ll be ready. But I’m feeling anxious, full of “what ifs”.
What if my family needs me? What if somebody in the church needs me? What if I get sick? What if the cat gets sick? What if the cat-caretaker forgets to come? What if the air-conditioning goes out? What if it rains and I miss it? (That would be great, actually!)
All those “what ifs” remind me of Martha of Bethany—the one to whom Jesus said, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious about many things.” Then he went on to say that her sister Mary, who was just hanging around, listening to him talk, had chosen “the better part.” I’ve always felt sorry for Martha—after all, she was getting dinner ready for Jesus and the disciples, a perfectly reasonable task. But I think Jesus was commenting not on what she was doing, but her anxiety, which was colored with some resentment of her sister’s behavior.
I tend to be a lot like Martha, but am trying to develop the Mary in me, as well. So once I get on the plane (maybe even in the taxi!) I’m going to leave Martha behind. If someone needs me, they’ll figure out how to get what they need from someone else, or if it’s a desperate need, they’ll find me. If something goes wrong at home, it will be dealt with.
Life is full of “what ifs”, but the person of faith will not live among them. Vacation is a gift, and I’m going to receive it joyfully, and leave my anxiety at home. Vacation, with all its anticipated joy, is a gift, and I’m going to receive it joyfully. I’ll have some stories to share when I get back!
On Monday I’ll be leaving town for five days of vacation in Colorado. I’m spending the time with seven of my dearest friends in the world, so I know it will be a great time. We’ve been talking about a road trip for years, and this one (partly by air!) will be wonderful! And yet, I’m feeling stressed as I think about it. I’ve had very little to do for preparation (these friends always take care of me), so why am I stressed? I just need to pack my suitcase, have one more chat with the cat-caretaker, confirm my transportation to the airport, and I’ll be ready. But I’m feeling anxious, full of “what ifs”.
What if my family needs me? What if somebody in the church needs me? What if I get sick? What if the cat gets sick? What if the cat-caretaker forgets to come? What if the air-conditioning goes out? What if it rains and I miss it? (That would be great, actually!)
All those “what ifs” remind me of Martha of Bethany—the one to whom Jesus said, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious about many things.” Then he went on to say that her sister Mary, who was just hanging around, listening to him talk, had chosen “the better part.” I’ve always felt sorry for Martha—after all, she was getting dinner ready for Jesus and the disciples, a perfectly reasonable task. But I think Jesus was commenting not on what she was doing, but her anxiety, which was colored with some resentment of her sister’s behavior.
I tend to be a lot like Martha, but am trying to develop the Mary in me, as well. So once I get on the plane (maybe even in the taxi!) I’m going to leave Martha behind. If someone needs me, they’ll figure out how to get what they need from someone else, or if it’s a desperate need, they’ll find me. If something goes wrong at home, it will be dealt with.
Life is full of “what ifs”, but the person of faith will not live among them. Vacation is a gift, and I’m going to receive it joyfully, and leave my anxiety at home. Vacation, with all its anticipated joy, is a gift, and I’m going to receive it joyfully. I’ll have some stories to share when I get back!
Monday, July 20, 2009
A confession
When the light isn’t just right…when there’s not quite enough…or even when there’s a lot of it, but in the wrong place, I cannot see faces and objects clearly. I notice it every Sunday in the foyer and at the back of the Sanctuary. I can’t see your faces clearly enough to recognize you until I am very close to you.
That’s a confession that’s not easy to make. As I have gotten older, I have continued to enjoy good health. My plan has always been to be as active today as I was yesterday, and as active tomorrow as I am today…on and on, into an indefinite future when I will suddenly, painlessly drop dead, causing no trouble to anyone.
But there has been a glitch in my plan. Age-related macular degeneration, known familiarly as ARMD by a surprisingly large number of people, has impaired my vision. When I was diagnosed with the early stage (dry) some eight or ten years ago, I was told that I would have no vision problems unless it became wet. I cheerfully assumed that my good attitude and habits would protect me and my very valuable eyesight. I was also told that there was really nothing that could be done to treat the condition. But eventually my left eye betrayed me, and I lost most of the central vision it provided. All was not lost, however, because in the intervening years, all kinds of treatments have been developed. I have had a number of injections (yes, with a tiny needle carrying lovely medication right into my eye), followed by laser treatments, so the vision I have is holding. However, my situation is further complicated by a cataract that doctors are reluctant to remove, not wanting to risk any further damage to that eye.
I can still drive (although I stay off unfamiliar expressways and am selective about night driving); I can still read almost anything with my drugstore reading glasses; I can still see almost everything. But if I occasionally look blank or uncertain when I see you, please remember I’m just trying to figure out who you are.
Every day I thank God for the blessing of researchers and medical practitioners who are saving my vision…as I thank God for the gift of sight. Now, if I could just get my spiritual vision to improve….
That’s a confession that’s not easy to make. As I have gotten older, I have continued to enjoy good health. My plan has always been to be as active today as I was yesterday, and as active tomorrow as I am today…on and on, into an indefinite future when I will suddenly, painlessly drop dead, causing no trouble to anyone.
But there has been a glitch in my plan. Age-related macular degeneration, known familiarly as ARMD by a surprisingly large number of people, has impaired my vision. When I was diagnosed with the early stage (dry) some eight or ten years ago, I was told that I would have no vision problems unless it became wet. I cheerfully assumed that my good attitude and habits would protect me and my very valuable eyesight. I was also told that there was really nothing that could be done to treat the condition. But eventually my left eye betrayed me, and I lost most of the central vision it provided. All was not lost, however, because in the intervening years, all kinds of treatments have been developed. I have had a number of injections (yes, with a tiny needle carrying lovely medication right into my eye), followed by laser treatments, so the vision I have is holding. However, my situation is further complicated by a cataract that doctors are reluctant to remove, not wanting to risk any further damage to that eye.
I can still drive (although I stay off unfamiliar expressways and am selective about night driving); I can still read almost anything with my drugstore reading glasses; I can still see almost everything. But if I occasionally look blank or uncertain when I see you, please remember I’m just trying to figure out who you are.
Every day I thank God for the blessing of researchers and medical practitioners who are saving my vision…as I thank God for the gift of sight. Now, if I could just get my spiritual vision to improve….
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Pastors and Politics
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.
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.
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