The Main Thing...

 "The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing." - Stephen Covey (I think he said it; I cannot recall if it was original with him. Still, this saying has always resonated with me. Main things are so difficult to track these days. It is hard to keep the main thing in the forefront when there are so many other worthy distractions that clamor for our attention.

Like trying to focus on one event at a Three Ring Circus - we are confronted with a plethora of things happening right before our eyes. Clowns, elephants, horses with riders, daring young men on their flying trapezes, vendors hocking their wares of peanuts and popcorn, oversized brightly-colored cannons shooting helmet-clad daredevils high into the air across the canvas canopy of entertainment...There are so many things happening all around us - sights to see, noises to hear, and smells to, well,...smell. And all the while we are attempting to focus on one particular part of the show.

Our world is filled with circus-like atmospheres of entertainment, information, persuasive arguments, and commercially-designed enticements to capture, if not our harried attentions, at least our pocketbooks and wallets. Oftentimes it is even manifested through horrific and tragic events that not only capture our hearts, but also awaken fears that we thought had been buried so deeply within our psyches that we are shocked with they are dragged to the surface. And we wonder how can this happen? Especially here? Now? In this day and age?

But it has.

Again.

And once again, we are confronted with the onslaught of movements and arguments and cries, and calls for "something to be done!"

"How many more before we do something?" We see and hear it in the streets, those clamoring with a sense of absolute urgency to do something - anything - even if it is wrong - to make this nonsense stop.

And if we are brutally honest with ourselves - I mean, truly, deep-down, BRUTALLY HONEST - we can even agree. It must stop. This cannot go on. Enough is enough.

Arguments and debates rage once again - both sides calling for rational action that will make this senseless tragedy somehow end. Each perspective armed with statistics and slogans, arguments and polls, demonstrating just how foolish it is to accept this as the new norm. And they are both right. This is America. This is not some third-world country where fighting in the streets is seen day-in and day-out. This is the land of the free. This is the place where dreams can come true. This is the place where everyone should be able to grow up, work hard, and make a place for themselves. The outrage when lives are cut short is justified. This should not happen here.

But, again, it is difficult for us to remember: "The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing."

Emotions run rampant when we are accosted with such a moral outrage. We demand immediate action and justice. We demand changes.

We demand, because we are known as a people of action. A nation that gets results. It is in our DNA.

But, "...the main thing..." keeps coming back and haunting me. And the "main thing" I keep seeing is that we've completely turned a blind eye to the source of these crises.

We've forgotten how to care. We've stopped thinking of the "other". We've turned so far inward into our own little lives that we've neglected the soul who is searching for meaning right next to us.

A few weeks ago, I was watching a television show on automotive restoration. A team of mechanics were sent out to a home where the parents of a deceased veteran of the war in Afghanistan were wanting to restore their late son's car. The son had bought the car as a means of dealing with his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which he had developed after his multiple tours of duty in war-torn Afghanistan. It was supposed to be therapeutic. It was going to help him return to "the real world" again by helping him get his mind off of his PTSD. Seemed like a good plan.

But the shadows kept haunting him. The nightmare wasn't going to be left behind him on the battlefield. It followed him. Everywhere.

And when a problem arose with this project car, or some other setback happened, he took his own life.

Like so many other soldiers who return home haunted by what they had experienced overseas.

I sat there crying. Watching a car show, I cried.

I cried for his parents. They were trying to save something from their beloved son's life that was positive, knowing that there were demons hiding in his heart and mind from the horrors of war, but also knowing that they had no idea just how scary those demons were. And so to honor his memory, they wanted to get this car running. As a tribute to him, and all that is good and noble in their son's life.

I sat crying because I cannot even begin to know or understand what those demons are like, or how absolutely dark those shadows are that can cloud out the brightest day. I do not know. I cried because I wanted so desperately to let that soldier know that there is a hope that can see him through that darkness, but totally ill-prepared to help as I have not been there myself. I cried because I do not want anyone to ever feel as though there is no hope.

And it dawned on me. The problem we have with our world today is not too many guns, nor even is it that we have turned our backs on those who struggle with the multitude of forms of mental illness. The problem is that we have forgotten how to offer people hope. We have forgotten how to talk with and listen to people who are struggling. We've forgotten how to care. We've forgotten that compassion is far greater than any drug that can be manufactured to help combat loneliness, despair, depression, anxiety, or any other affliction that can rob people of a sense of worth. We've forgotten how to relate to one another.

Scriptures are replete with teachings about the necessity of being in right relationships with God, others, and ourselves. When we put ourselves first, we find that the whole of creation gets out of balance. We push and shove; we elbow our ways through, around, and over others with little regard of what their world is like at that moment. We've forgotten that we are created to be in relationship with one another.

Instead, we hide behind "social" media (how is it truly "social" if we're not actually interacting with one another in person? We're just pushing buttons on a computer or tapping letters on a cellphone! That's not interpersonal!). We believe that because of the technology, we are freer to share what we really think - and damn the one who disagrees with us!

And that's where all this begins to break down. We've forgotten how to think about the other first. And truth be known, we've forgotten this because we've forgotten how to relate to the One who created us - who taught us simple ways to live, so that we'd learn to respect one another, honor one another, value one another.

What is missing in our culture today is not another law or set of laws restricting this or punishing that. What is missing is our ability - our willingness - to engage the other in compassion. We don't need another law. We need to care.

Mercy...

 

O Lord have mercy!

O Christ have mercy!

O Lord have mercy!

 

I pray this evening for a community who will never know the answers to the most basic, fundamental question: Why? Attempts will be made, offerings and reasons shared, opinions will be bandied about, but none will satisfy.

 

I pray for families that will never be the same again. For parents who were planning summer vacations and camps, but are now planning for funerals and memorials.

 

I pray for teachers and school administrators who have just begun to find some semblance of normalcy after having empty classrooms and desks from a pandemic, but who will now face empty desks for an entirely different reason.

 

I pray for trauma surgeons and medical teams who have had to deal with working on tiny bodies who have been torn apart by bullets, and then have to tell their families that there was just too much damage, too much blood-loss. "I'm sorry" just doesn't seem like it is ever enough.

 

I pray for churches and congregations where pastors, children's directors, and Sunday School teachers will struggle to be present for families that will never hear that laughter again.

 

I pray for all those who will play on the pain of such tragedy so that political statements and opinions will be raised, rather than choose to be with and comfort those whose lives have been so violently devasted in this despicable act.

 

And I pray for that one family that will struggle for the rest of their lives, second-guessing, broken-hearted, wondering why.

 

Lord, I pray. I pray not because I don't know what to do, but because I do not know where else I can go than to You, for You alone are holy.

 

Lord, in your mercy, hear my prayer. In Christ's holy name I pray. Amen.

New Wineskins

 

              “And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost, and so are the skins; but one puts new wine into fresh wineskins.” – Mark 2:22 NRSV

              I must admit that I am not a connoisseur by any means. I know basically about the three colors of wine, and that I don’t usually drink wine much at all. I know that it comes from grapes, and that the fermentation process involves a lot of transformation from grape juice to wine. I can tell you about the story of Welch’s Grape Juice (originally called non-fermented wine) and that Mr. Welch was a Methodist. Still, I don’t know much about wine.

              And yet, in Jesus’ day, wine was very much a staple of every day life. (Water, it turns out, was not purified then, and tended to cause more harm than good.) So when Jesus is asked by some folks about John the Baptizer’s disciples and the Pharisees practicing the spiritual discipline of fasting while Jesus’ own disciples didn’t fast, Jesus answered them with the teaching about how silly it is to fast while you are with the Bridegroom. That’s like not wanting to eat a piece of the wedding cake because you’re on a diet! It’s not only wrong, it’s downright rude! When the Bridegroom has left, then you can fast.

              But then he goes further. And he teaches them with two examples. First, the idea of sewing a patch made of new cloth onto an old coat, which would be poor judgment. The first time the coat is washed, the new patch will shrink, and make a bigger hole. Second he talks about wineskins and wine.

              As I said above, I don’t know much about wine, but I do know that when grape juice begins to ferment, the process usually makes the juice expand. Old wineskins (used ones) have already reached the limit of their expandability, thus making it highly likely that new wine would split the skins, wasting everything. (Not just the wine, but the time and investment of growing, harvesting, and pressing the grapes to get the juice is wasted as well.)

              Why is Jesus telling this story? Perhaps it is because he’s not talking about just fasting, patching up old coats, and new wine in old wineskins. Maybe there’s something deeper her. Maybe there’s a lesson for us all in this short little verse.

              Mark’s gospel was written to his own church at a later time than Jesus’ day. His gospel was written not to individuals, but to the whole church. The various parts of this teaching can be interpreted in many different ways, no doubt. But the way that I have come to understand this particular passage of scripture, especially since it is so early in Mark’s gospel, has to do with the way things had been, and the advent of this new Kingdom of Heaven.

              If the old wineskins relates to the ways we’ve “always done things,” and the new wine is the life in the Kingdom of Heaven that Jesus is introducing, we’re headed for trouble. The thing about Jesus’ Kingdom is that it is going to grow and grow and grow. And it is so expansive that it will never work in the systems and patterns of the ways we’ve always done things. It is going to take a major shift in our understanding of how things work in order for us to adapt. It is going to take new wineskins, wineskins that will expand with this new, ever-growing and fermenting Kingdom that we’re being introduced to. The same old same old isn’t going to cut it anymore.

              The Bridegroom is here – Jesus. And the wedding is now. It is not time for fasting, it is time to celebrate. The Kingdom has come, and is breaking in upon us as we speak. If we’re so stuck in our ways that we cannot see this new life upon us, everything we are trying to hold on to will literally burst around us, and we’ll lose everything. (“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain… Those who try to keep their life in this life will lose it, but those who are willing to lose their life – read ‘spend it’ – for my sake and the sake of the gospel, will keep it for eternal life.”)

              We’ve seen some hard times over the past several years. It has been difficult. Even scary. But God isn’t done with St. Luke’s yet. There’s still more ahead of us. 2022 will be the 75^th Anniversary of St. Luke’s. Think about that for a moment. Seventy-five years! Can anyone begin to count the number of people who have ventured through these doors, sat in our pews, worshiped and learned about Jesus throughout these seven and a half decades? Is there a way to put a number on that?

              And what of the next seventy-five years? And beyond? How many people will wander in, searching for something that will help them make sense of their life and this world? How many people will hear – some of them for the very first time – about Jesus Christ, and what he did on that cross two thousand years ago? How many children will come through these doors, sit down in those colorful little chairs in the classrooms and hear about Jesus, Noah, Jonah, Abraham, Sarah, David, Peter and Paul? Is there a way to begin to guess that number? God knows. And God knows each and every name.

Since Easter this year, St. Luke’s has had over twenty new people come to join our church. This is 16% growth in just five months! It is time to see this new thing that God is doing among us! It is time to put away our fears and anxieties, and to begin to grow again. God’s vision for this congregation has yet to be fully realized. God is not finished with St. Luke’s. God is just getting started!

But we’re going to need to get rid of our old wineskins, because this new wine of God’s Kingdom is going to burst our old ways of doing things wide open. And I’m getting ready for it. Are you?

See you in Church!

 

 

Unwillingly...

 

May 24, 1738, Paragraph 14:

“In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate-Street, where one was reading Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation: And an assurance was given me, that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.” – John Wesley’s Journal Entry, Wednesday, May 24^th, 1738.

As I write this, today is May 24^th, “Aldersgate Day,” an unofficial holiday in United Methodist circles that commemorates John Wesley’s transformative moment in which he felt his “heart strangely warmed.” Each time I read this passage on this date every year, I am struck by a different word from Wesley. I have found comfort in his emphases on “my,” “mine,” and “me” in his realization of his own salvation. That somehow, he understood clearly that Christ’s death had eternal consequences for him, some 1700 years later.

I have found interesting that the passage being read was not even from the Epistle to the Romans, but was actually the editorial preface for the Commentary on Romans written by Martin Luther. That, even outside of Scripture, one can find the stirrings of the Holy Spirit.

This time around, another word jumped off the page to me: “unwillingly.” When one usually thinks of John Wesley, “unwilling” is usually NOT a word that would be used to describe him. Authors and scholars have long viewed Wesley as a go-getter or spirit-driven man, having ridden on horseback over 4,000 miles every year for 50 years. “Unwilling” seems an out-of-place descriptor for such a dedicated servant of God.

However, one needs to know that he was not always so gung-ho. Wesley suffered from a huge sense of defeat in his efforts to bring Christianity to the Georgia colony just a few years prior. He struggled with his faith, his purpose, even his calling as a result. Still, he would find encouragement from his brother Charles, and a Moravian pastor, Peter Böhler, that he met on the voyage back to England, to keep searching, preaching, and praying. At Charles’ invitation, John went “unwillingly” to a bible study in a house church on Aldersgate Street in London on that evening. And there, he would experience something more than just an intellectual exercise in theological bible study. For John Wesley, his faith jumped to life through the power of the Holy Spirit. And truth be told, the world hasn’t been the same since!

The question today is, what are we missing when we are reluctant – even ‘unwilling’ – to heed the invitation of the Holy Spirit’s promptings? And what difference might it make for our family, our church, our neighborhoods, or the world if we would just heed the call of the Spirit? It only takes a little effort to step out in faith…

See you in Church!

 

On "googling" the Faith...

 

              We’ve come up with some pretty strange words in the English language in recent years, most of which have to do with our taken-for-granted life online. “Skype,” “Livestream,” and “google” have gone from being online platforms to becoming verbs: “Let’s Skype tomorrow at 10 a.m.” we say. Or, “We’ll be livestreaming our worship services tomorrow evening on social media.” My favorite phrase that has become a normal part of our 21^st century vernacular is “Have you ever googled yourself?” (which might sound like a rather indecent proposal!) We’ve become instant experts in just about everything these days, just by going online. (I confess that I’ve become a rather proficient shade-tree diesel mechanic thanks to YouTube!)

              Unfortunately, there are some downsides to this method of enlightenment. Not everything we find on the interweb can be trusted. (I know! I was shocked too!) Another issue is that just because someone has posted about a given subject doesn’t make that person an expert worth trusting. Still, our first response to most questions is to just “google it.”

              The fear that many pastors like myself have is that there are many folks who encounter people who would rather “google” their faith, or to let it become merely a query-based exploration rather than develop a personal, life-long relationship with our Creator God. Knowing information about God is not the same as knowing God, no matter how many website hits you may explore. But still, this is the extent of many people’s spiritual growth endeavors.

              The issue with only seeking information rather than a genuine relationship is that knowledge is only part of the equation. One can, for instance, study all the effects of buoyancy, floatation devices, swimming strokes, water displacement, and drag co-efficiencies, but never fully experience what it is like to swim in the water. The same is true of our relationship with God.

              And developing a relationship with God takes time. Discipline. Intention. And patience. Getting to know God starts with spending time in God’s Word. Getting to know the person of Jesus starts with reading the scriptures, particularly the Gospels. Truly understanding what a holy relationship with God is like begins with immersing oneself within the worshiping body of believers known as the Church. This is where the sustaining power of God’s Holy Spirit shines best.

              If you’re one of those who only comes to church on occasion, (what one pastor I know calls a “CEO” Christian – “Christmas-Easter-Only”) the joy of knowing God’s plan for your life is sorely limited. If you are not cracking open that Bible that has been on your shelf for the last umpteen years collected dust, you’re truly missing out on the blessings God has in store for you. If the last time you stepped foot in a church was for a funeral several months ago (or longer!), you’re short-changing yourself.

              You cannot “google” your way into heaven, regardless of how good the marketing is for the internet. God has something much better waiting for you. Come and see!

              See you in Church!

The Promise...Fulfilled!

 

Easter People, Raise Your Voices,

Sounds of heaven in earth should ring.
Christ has brought us heaven’s choices;

Heavenly music, let it ring.

Alleluia! Alleluia!

Easter people, let us sing.(1)

                It wasn’t too long ago that Valentine’s Day candy and cards were being replaced on the shelves of many stores with Easter baskets, cards, chocolate Easter Bunnies and other assorted sweets. We hadn’t even begun the season of Lent, and the world was telling us to hurry into the next big holiday. Corporate advertising, bottom line profit margins, and retail therapy were being pushed to the limit and beyond. It seemed to be too much too soon. Let us at least get over our glucose and fructose highs from all the candy and chocolate-covered whatevers before we are thrust into another diabetic experience!

It was a strange whirlwind of change, but one that seemed to leap-frog over some fairly significant events. Ironically, for most Christians, we’ve become numb to this onslaught of quickly moving holidays. We may subtly scoff under our breath at the changes, but somewhere, deep-down, I suspect we’d truly like to have a breather.

The season of Lent is now past, and has been replaced by the High Holy Days of Easter, and the season of new life in Christ. Resurrection has come at last, and we proclaim boldly in the tradition of the Church of two millenia - Christ is Risen! He Is Risen Indeed!

Unfortunately, the coloring on the Easter Eggs has barely dried, the chocolate bunny ears consumed, and the world is moving on to the next big event – Mother’s Day.

But for a moment – nay, for a season – let us stop long enough to proclaim to the world that God’s plan of Salvation has been fulfilled. Death has been defeated. Sin did not win. God’s eternal Kingdom has begun, and Christ has assumed his rightful place at the right hand of God! Easter people, RAISE YOUR VOICES! Sounds of heaven in earth should ring!

If only for a moment – nay, for a season – the earth could hear from the body of Christ this wonderful news of glorious victory over sin and death, perhaps the world might slow down again, and turn toward the Creator once again.

I pray that you will not be among those who are seduced into the next great secular whirlwind holiday, but rather might take the time to dwell in the HOLY-day of Christ’s resurrection. And proclaim it aloud! Raise your voices! Tell the world! And Shout Alleluia! The promise has been fulfilled!

 

See you in Church!

(1) William M. James, Copyright 1979 United Methodist Publishing House

Return

    As I write this, it is the beginning of Lent. Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of a forty-day season of reflection and renewal. It lasts for (duh!) forty days, from Ash Wednesday until Easter, but does not include Sundays in the counting. (Don't ask me why, I'll just tell you to google it, which is what I would probably do, anyway.)

    The irony of Ash Wednesday falling as it did today is that we, in South Texas (Corpus Christi to be precise), are in the midst of a once-in-a-blue-moon-type of deep freeze that has just about shut down the state of Texas, let alone the city. As I write this, on my laptop, I have about 65% battery left. We've been without power here for over 32 hours.) So, as my beautiful wife quipped this morning, "Maybe God is telling us to give up more than just electricity for Lent this year!" 

    And that got me thinking. Maybe she's right.

    What if God is trying to get our attention in a strange and unique way? For the first time in my three-decades-plus ministry, I've had to cancel Ash Wednesday services. No electricity, below freezing temperatures, low water pressure, and slippery roads made for a fairly easy decision this morning. 

    Still, maybe there's something more afoot here.

    Upon hearing Lisa's statement, my mind immediately went to something deeper - which I truly believe was her intent. Maybe we are supposed to think about Lent differently this year. A global pandemic has drawn the faithful into our own homes, socially distanced from one another, and has left us without many of the familiar comforts of Church life in community. As a result, many have begun to mourn the loss of that community, and have fallen on hard times in their faith.

    But what seems to be heard (at least to my ears) has been more of a lament in what used to be. The experience of Church was in a building, singing hymns or songs of worship, hearing a sermon, keeping up with one another, and, of course, coffee and donuts or cookies. It's the social aspect that many have been missing - which is well and good, if that is only a small part of your worship life. But for so many, it appears to me that this is the most important thing that we've been missing.

    "Maybe God is telling us to give up more than just electricity for Lent this year."

    Maybe.

    Perhaps God is inviting us to return. Not just to church, to the social aspect of what we've come to know as church. But to something deeper. More profound.

    And instantly my mind found a quote from the Old Testament - "Rend your hearts, not just your garments." 

    From the prophet Joel chapter 2 (I admit, I had to look it up!), we find these words:

"Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy mountain! Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming, it is near...

"Yet, even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing." (Joel 2:1, 12-13 NRSV)

    What if God is trying to get us out of our superficial, surface-level religiousity, and calling us to a deeper, more powerful relationship? What if all our shallow "I've-given-up-my-$6-a-cup-designer-coffee-for-Lent" attempts at being sacrificial just aren't enough? What if it really isn't about denying our indulgences that God is seeking from us, but rather, an honest, truly exposed, deep commitment to become vulnerable to God? What if what God really wants from us is for our hearts to be rent - torn open - to reveal our deepest sins, our greatest vulnerabilities, our honest dependence upon God and God alone? What if God wants us - from our most inward parts - rather than us just "going through the motions?

    "Return to me with all your heart...rend your hearts and not your clothing." "I want your heart, not your outward religious superficialities." 

    "Blow the trumpet in Zion; sanctify a fast; call a solemn assembly; gather the people. Sanctify the congregation; assemble the aged; gather the children, even infants at the breast." 

    Maybe its time we took our faith more seriously. It isn't about comfort, ease, or simply giving up something that is more luxury than sacrifice. It is about giving your heart to God. This is what God says truly sanctifies us.

    May your heart be opened to God this Lenten season. And may you truly take the time to return to God. Spend time in prayer - just listening for what God would say to you is truly important. You will be quite surprised in what you hear.

    See you in Church!

    Pastor Brad