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“The Last Shall Be…Left Out!”

March 5, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                          March 4, 2013

The four servers returned to the front with the communion cup trays. My assistant and I prepared to receive them, proclaim the words of Jesus, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood! Whenever you drink of this cup you proclaim my death until I come again. Drink of it, each of you!”
But there was a problem. We looked down at the trays that the four servers were holding.

Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty.

Four sets of eyes looked up at us with a sense of “puppy-dogish-ness!” We had run out of communion before everyone was served. Or at least…six of us were served! It wasn’t because the sanctuary was so packed out that there simply wasn’t enough. For some reason our communion preparer has fixed less on this day than usual. In addition to that we had the celebration of communion as a part of the worship gathering in the midst of the service, as opposed to being at the end. Thus, the children who normally had been dismissed for “Children’s Church” were participating in communion with us.

The six of us at the front of the sanctuary, the last to be served, were now left out. Paul talked about the gluttonous Corinthians boozing up at the gatherings of the church in Corinth. Those who got there early were tipping back a few before late arrivers- those who had to work longer days- got there. The result would be a group that over-did and another group that did without.

But in our situation no one was tipping more than one of the tiny plastic communion cups.

And there was no “multiplying of the cups” miracle. We just did without.

“Drink of it, most of you!”

The last shall be first, except on some communion Sundays where the last are just left out.

Perhaps some regular church attenders, rigid in ritual observance, committed to the faith while also being void of grace, would look at such an event and call for a congregational meeting. Some might have qualified it as sacrilegious. For us it just was…what it was! No one felt led to run down to the kitchen and see if there was any Baptist wine still in the frig (Welch’s Grape Juice). We just went on. In some ways there was a deeper bond that became a part of our gathering at that point. Our story together had just added another chapter.

It seemed fitting that those who served were the ones who didn’t have anything left for themselves. Serving the Lord is giving it up even when we realize there may not be anything left  for ourselves.

I’ve been to a few Baptist potlucks where the end of the line got fruit jello, and the front of the line had about five different layers of food smothering their plates. Communion, however, is a little different.

Maybe I should bring to our church leadership the idea of a “BYOB Communion Sunday.” Although it might be a little unnerving to look out at the congregation and suddenly seeing a bottle being passed back and forth in the back rows. Maybe we’ll have to do a “BYOGJ” instead- bring your own grape juice.

I think I’m going to inquire of my Lutheran friends to see if they have an extra chalice laying around some place. Would that be sacrilegious for a Baptist to use a Lutheran chalice…or vice-versa? I don’t know, but for at least one pastor this past Sunday’s communion was an intimate experience even though the cup was missing.

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Incivility In the Church

February 22, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                February 22, 2013

 

My good friend, Tom Bayes, responded to my blog posting about having a passion for good sportsmanship by pointing me to an article written by Dr. Charles Chandler about the rise in “incivility.” His article points at an epidemic of incivility towards ministers. At first glance I was wondering about the connections between good sportsmanship and the treatment of pastors, and then I got it!

You see, a lack of sportsmanship, especially among adults, is linked to this idea of entitlement. A grown man in the bleachers believes he is entitled to say anything and act any way he wants because he has bought a ticket. He blurs “freedom of speech” with the verbal abuse of others.

In Chandler’s article he refers to Dr. G. Lloyd Rediger, author of Clergy Killers, who gives four reasons for the epidemic of incivility in the church. They are very revealing.

First of all, Rediger says that the church now mirrors society rather than leading it. A society  that has become increasingly polarized and unwilling to respect the opinions on each side is spilling over into the church. Now a congregation that includes people with differing music tastes more often than not has heated differences over such things as organs, drums, hymnals, projected words on a screen, and volume level. Incivility filters into a congregation as comfort zones are squeezed, no matter whether it is about such things as “is it okay to bring coffee into the sanctuary” to “what to do about a crying infant in worship” to “a change in the time of the worship service.” My comfort zone is different than the next person’s, and the next person’s different from the person behind him…which leads to the second reason for incivility.

Rediger says that America was once viewed as a “land of opportunity.” Now it tends to be a land filled with people who feel entitled. Comfort levels are viewed as sacred, and thus demanded. Rediger says that some people who aren’t as comfortable as they have been in the church become even vengeful. As entitlement becomes part of the environment, grace gets shoved out the door. Forgiveness goes shortly after since it is linked with grace. Entitled congregants often begin staking out their areas, or programs, or hot button issues and construct “invisible fences” with “No Trespassing” indicators.

The church, which has its roots in personal transformation and discipleship, instead becomes more like a Walmart at 5 a.m. on Black Friday!

The third reason mentioned is that the church too often has adopted the business model for operating instead of a mission model. A sense of mission gets replaced with an atmosphere of management. The pastor presides over the weekly schedule of meetings instead of leading the congregation in the celebration of communion. “Administrate” becomes the buzz word instead of “sacred”. Operations becomes more of the focus instead of mission.

And finally, the fourth reason for the rise in incivility is the loss of respect for the role of the minister. The expectation of pleasing people becomes more important then being their spiritual leader and mentor. I wrestle with this one. Whereas the congregation I pastor treats me with respect, I sometimes wonder if the length of my pastorate has a tendency, so to speak, to make me part of the furniture. Coming up on 14 years this summer I have that uneasiness within me that I am sometimes more honored and respected than heard. Such inner feelings are linked to something written a number of years ago by Loren Mead about the most effective years of a pastorate being between years five and nine. After that, he wrote, the pastor’s ability to lead significant change diminishes. He wrote that about twenty-five years ago. In our culture I’m not sure if it is still true. Because of rapid change it could be that the most effective years are now between three and five.

Bottom line, the Body of Christ, that has its roots in hope, peace, faith, forgiveness, and love, must take a look in the mirror and wash the anger, selfishness, and apathy off.

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
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The Job of Reading Through Job

February 8, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                               February 8, 2013

 

I’m using the One Year Chronological Bible to read through the Bible this year. As it’s name indicates, the scriptures are arranged in order of occurrence…as best as they can determine. I didn’t realize that Job came after Genesis 10! I almost didn’t make it to Genesis 11.

Right after the story of Noah…right around January 4…Job suddenly sprung up on the pages of January 5.

Understand that I have nothing against Job. After all, he is in the Book! It’s just that I have a hard time listening to his friends Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar, and late contributor, Elihu. In a modern paraphrase they might appear as a group of Baptist pastors who are all trying out the coming Sunday’s sermon. They seem to have no word quota or time limit. They flapped their jaws more than our neighbor’s barking dog.

You would have thought they were running for office. I fell asleep with the Bible open in front of me. (Kind of like people on Sundays when I speak!) Anytime Eliphaz opened his mouth I started compiling a grocery list. Suddenly I realized I was two chapters later on in the story, but had not clue what it was that I had just read.

About two weeks later in my Bible journey light appeared at the end of the tunnel. It was about the time that God appeared on the scene and set things in perspective. The Almighty has a way of doing that. When he asks, but isn’t really seeking an answer, “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand…Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place?” (Job 38:4,12) there is the first glimpse of silence in the gap.

It’s better to think through your words before responding to God.

The story of Job tells me that there is much verbosity in the world, a heap of rhetoric, but the voice of God sweeps it all away. It tells me that if we measure how we should believe by the amount of verbiage that is uttered our journey would, more often than not, take us away from the closeness of His wisdom.

Sometimes our lives become based more on the rambling thoughts of others and less on the solid foundation of Christ.

The story of Job also makes me think about the church. Does our ministry flow more out of our opinions or out of the story of hope, the scriptures of wisdom? How often do we say “That sounds like a good idea” as opposed to “What is God leading us to be about?”

I’m done with Job for now. I can remember Bildad’s name, but none of his pontifications. I leave the story behind me and am reminded of “The Five B’s of Preaching”– “Be brief, Bill, be brief!”

Categories: Christianity, Faith, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Kobe Leading

January 16, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                               January 16, 2013

 

I am a fan of Kobe Bryant for selfish reasons. He is on my Fantasy Basketball team roster. He gets me points! I cheer for him because he helps me accomplish a purpose. Other than that I have, more often than not, rooted against him. For me, the Lakers are basketball’s equivalent of the baseball Yankees. Yankee fans are passionate, and non-Yankee fans are often passionate in their dislike of pinstripes.

Back to Kobe, though!

Kobe has always seemed to enjoy success, leading the Lakers to five NBA titles , and being a member of the 2008 and 2012  Olympic gold-medal winning USA basketball teams. Success has come as naturally as his shooting stroke.

But this season is different! This season the Lakers have struggled to find team chemistry, defense, and, most importantly, wins. On January 16 they sit at 17-22, and that includes a current two game winning streak.

Many basketball analysts, however, have taken notice how Kobe has become a better leader this season in the midst of adversity. Granted this is not a unanimous opinion, but there are many people who only equate leadership with success, victories, and good numbers.

A different kind of leadership often needs to be a part of “pit experiences.” Jesus took three leader disciples to the top of a mountain one time, and it was unanimous in their desire to stay there, but Jesus took them right back down to where the people- the common folk- were (Matthew 17:1-23). Everyone wants to be on top, but more is learned, and required, of those in the valley.

There are few books written, or articles composed, dealing with leading people in the midst of a mudslide…when it seems that things are slipping away and it is hard to get a hold.

Part of leadership is knowing that you are an anchor anchored to the rock. That is, people look to you when hope seems to be disappearing, and when troubles seem to be increasing. Part of leadership is having an anchor that holds, that stays committed and focused when others have been blinded to either the truth, the problems, or the possibilities.

“Kobe leading” as January hits mid-month is about encouraging defensive intensity, getting on teammates whose rowing speed is not with the flow of the team, and staying focused. He has had situations in the past even when the Lakers were on top of the mountain where he resorted to selfish motives and teammate bashing.

As a pastor I’ve had Sundays where it seems that I am on the mountaintop and other weeks where Death Valley would be a climb to a higher spot. But one of the many things I’ve learned over the years, and usually learned it the hard way, is that the pastor-leader is who the church looks to for hope, strength, a solid foundation, and a life that is not in chaos. It is not that pastors do not have problems and crises, but a pastor whose life is in constant turmoil is the leader that the congregation can not anchor itself to.

The pastor-leader who has been a solid earns the respect and love of his people to the point that when he/she has a crises the congregation picks the pastor up and keeps him/her from harm. In essence, the congregation keeps the pastor standing up.

“Kobe leading” this season will development qualities in Kobe Bryant that he may never have needed or known about before. Leading from the bottom gives you a different perspective.

A few years ago the basketball team I was assistant coach for went 1-22. No one wants to be 1-22, but that team learned a lot about life that year. Life lessons of persevering when you just want to quit. I’ll remember the seniors on that team who hung in there, and the fact that they were, and are, great young people.

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
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Christmas Silence

December 19, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                December 19, 2012

My guess is that the most popular Christmas carol is “Silent Night”. Traditionally, it is the song that we end our Christmas Eve Candlelight with. The congregation is standing, each person with their candle glowing. A stillness settles over the congregation as the music begins:

“Silent night, holy night! All is calm, all is bright!”

Perhaps it is the offer at a change of pace that makes the carol so appealing. Christmas is amplified with noise it seems. I was in Walmart the other day and had several toys talking to me as I passed them in the aisles. Seriously! The sound of a monster truck accelerating made me exit a toy truck and cars aisle quickly. In the next aisle a stuffed puppy started panting at me.

Christmas noise. Christmas echoes echoing echoes. Christmas jazz rock.

And so “Silent Night” seems so soothing and comforting. I don’t want to dramatize it too much, but it seems that the birthplace of Jesus…off to the side…out of the banter and bustling…was more about the lack of noise. Perhaps there was some livestock standing around, but what I mean is that no one thought it important enough to make noise over.

In fact, most of the Christmas story characters had journeys that included silence. For shepherds it  was important to have quiet so their hearing could be attuned to any predators lurking close to their herd of sheep. The silence helped them hear any uneasiness in their flock.

The wise men from the East had spent a long period of time traveling in the quiet of wilderness and through valleys. In the Luke account it mentions that after Elizabeth found out she was pregnant she went into seclusion for five months (Luke 1:24). Obviously her husband, Zechariah, wasn’t making any noise!

Silence in the incarnational event punctuated the point that God was doing something incredible.

I’ll be visiting my parents back in Ohio the week after Christmas. My mom is at that point in her life where silence is the norm. She has trouble verbalizing what she is thinking and so there are long periods of uncomfortable quiet, because I’m expecting that the next words are going to come. It’s a hard adjustment seeing your mom, who always talked to you…and even more than you got to say…suddenly be silent. I, however, will always opt for a silent mom over a noisy supermarket, a quite moment sitting by her bed over screaming consumers at the mall.

They say that silence is golden. If that’s true why don’t more people just keep quiet?

“Silent night, holy night!”

Categories: children, Christianity, Christmas, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Prayer, Story, Uncategorized
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The Chauffeur and The Three Wise Ladies

December 13, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                    December 12, 2012

 

The four-door Civic, affectionately known as “The Spaceship” because of it’s design, pulled up in front of the smiling saint’s house. The first passenger pick-up was peaking out the window in her front door, and, after recognizing the car, she opened the door sporting a smile as wide as the Mississippi River. The volunteer driver helped her into the backseat and the godly saint thanked him profusely.

The ice spots on the asphalt made pulling the “Spaceship” away from the curb a slow take-off, but finally the Civic headed on down the road to the next pick-up location. The smiling saint was delighted to be on a day trip to a celebration in the big city an hour’s drive away. Her life had been marked by triumphs and tragedies, rough roads and glorious adventures, but her faith in Jesus was a constant. “Jesus never fails” echoed in her soul. The callouses on her knees were a sign of where she spent a lot of her time. Today she was going to a celebration related to a young family she had prayed for many, many times.

The compact car pulled into the alleyway and stopped behind the flower lady’s home. She was ready, and slowly made her way down her back steps with her walking cane supporting her. She was beaming and dressed for the Senior Prom…if there was such a thing! The driver helped her navigate the last few steps around patches of snow and ice and made sure she settled safely in the front passenger seat. There was a little fumbling to get the seat belt attached, but weathered trembling hands finally found the connection and she breathed a sign of relief. She was a radiant 83 year old who was ready for an adventure. Her growing up days on the eastern Colorado plains had instilled values of patience, gentleness, and peace-loving into her spirit. She believed in a God who was always loving and kind and a provided whether the crops came in or not.

The smiling saint and the flower lady conversed with hellos and laughter, and squeals of delight that could be mistaken for not-quite-teenage girls.

The chauffeur eased on down the alley and onto the street and headed to the third stop a few miles away. A few minutes later “the Spaceship” pulled into the driveway of well-maintained older home. An African-American woman finely dressed stepped out the front door. The driver got out of the car, walked to her, and hugged her with a “Hello Mom!” greeting. She was not his birth mother, but had instead only arrived for his decade in the fifties. Wisdom for the beginning of his later part of life…and she had a lot of wisdom. She knew of a time when blacks and whites couldn’t ride in the same car together, and no Caucasian male would ever have been opening a car door for her. She knew what separation looked like, and it gave her a resolve to be the proclaimer of a Gospel that brings together, not drives apart.

Mom crawled into the back seat across from the smiling saint and greeted her spiritual sisters with vigor and excitement.

“This is no nice! To celebrate this occasion, and to ride to the big city with you all.”

“God is so good!” declared the smiling saint. “When I grew up Daddy would get all dressed up once a week, and that was to go to church. My brothers and I would take one bath a week, and it was on Saturday night. We’d get all spic-and-span for Sunday church.”

“A bath once a week?” quizzed the driver.

“There was so many of us, and we had to draw the water from the well, we just couldn’t do it more often. Summer though…summer was a different story, because we’d go down to the creek about a half-mile away and splash away like trout in paradise!”

The flower lady chimed in. “People worked hard on our farms, and the farms around us. Nobody took anything for granted. We trusted in God to get us through the hard times. My guess is that most people today would look at how we lived and would shake their heads in pity. They would probably think we were poor and deprived, but you know something? We always thought we were richly blessed. We never looked at life as being without. We looked at what we had. We had each other. There is nothing better than knowing that you are loved.”

“And there’s a a lot of people today who don’t know that,” added Mom. “We’d get a Virginia ham once a year at Christmas. Do you know what ham does?”

“Gives you gas?” asked no one in particular.

“No, honey! It gathers a family together around the dinner table. Let me tell you! My mother would put that ham on the dinner table on Christmas Day and we thought we had died and gone to heaven.”

“Sweet potatoes with that?” asked the smiling saint.

“Sister, we had sweet potatoes, and we always had sweet potato pie later on. My father was like a kid in a candy store when that sweet potato pie was about to be introduced.”

“Dinner conversation was the evening entertainment,” said the flower lady nodding her head in deep reflection.

“Now it seems like people can’t let go of their cell phones long enough to follow the conversation. Why is what your friend is texting from the mall more important than what your mama is telling you seated right next to you?” Mom was having a hard time with the disconnect.

“That’s why this is so good,” offered the smiling saint. “To just be together for a while, and to know that we have a a common bond through our Lord.”

The driver just drove and breathed in the warmth, the laughter,
and the wisdom. His life had just gotten richer…and no money was involved. The three wise ladies imparted gifts to him that they didn’t even realize.

Categories: Christianity, Christmas, Community, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Parenting, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Enjoying, Minus The Worship

December 10, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 December 9, 2012

 

Last week our seniors’ Bible study group at church, cleverly named “The Ageless Wonders”, had an interesting discussion on the tendency that we have to worship something or someone in place of God. We investigated the idea that God gets moved, or shoved, off the throne and replaced by activities, possessions, people…even customs and traditions. Each one of us has something in our lives that has the potential to be worshiped.

One of the group members asked the great question, “Does that mean that we can’t enjoy something?”

My response was that God desires for each one of us to enjoy life, and the events and activities of life. I stopped short of defining what the line is between enjoyment and worship. I believe that there is no clear line, and I also think that we fluctuate like a weigh scale in where we are. Some days we may be heavy into the worship of the latest American Idol and light on attention to our God. The next day might present a different verdict.

Some Christian groups in the past, and perhaps the present, seem to want people to not enjoy life. It’s almost like anything that doesn’t have the name Jesus in it is bad. Let me tell you! I bought a box of chocolate-covered cherries tonight at the store and I’m going to enjoy them. I’m not going to feel bad for keeping the name of Jesus out of it when I eat one of them tonight. I may put one on a saucer and place it beside the Christmas tree for Jesus…but I doubt it! I’m going to enjoy it, without worshiping it.

We have a multitude of obsessed people walking around today. Obsessed is worship distorted. Obsessed is believing that God hates abortion so the person goes and bombs an abortion clinic. Obsessed is being so passionate about your baseball team that you and another obsessed fan pummel a fan of the opposing team in the parking lot after the game for no reason other than the fact he’s wearing a hat of the other team.

Could it be that there are a number of people who enjoy God, but obsessively worship something else? Could it be that the channels have been flipped for a lot of us?

I enjoy basketball- coach it, officiate it, watch it, love it! But I worship God. If there is a hospital emergency that needs my pastoral attention on the night of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship I will be at the hospital. (Although I admit that DVR’s make it easier to be spiritual at the right times these days!)

This Christmas I’m going to enjoy my grand-kids, and my kids, and Carol’s homemade Chex mix, and eggnog, and Christmas carols…but with all my heart I will seek to restrict my worship to anything else but my Savior and my Lord.

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The Loss of Tradition…Cat, That Is!

November 28, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 November 28, 2012

 

We lost our cat on Sunday night, but lest you think this is going to be one of those articles that get all weepy, it’s not! Perhaps it is a bit therapeutic for me to write it, but it is also about some things I’ve been pondering.

Permit me a moment to recap. Carol and I came home Sunday afternoon only to be greeted by a cat in obvious pain. A trip to the emergency veterinarian clinic revealed it wasn’t a good situation, and the vet advised us to put Princess Malibu- Boo for short- to sleep.

Don’t be too amused by her name. She follows in a long line of head-shaking names that our daughters have christened our cats with, including “Tickles”, “Prince Charming Kisses”, “Duke”, and “Katie Katie Cocoa Puffs.” Some of our cats have had more names than I have.

On Monday I found myself looking for Boo around the house. Passing by the front door my habit returned of looking out the window of the door to see if she was waiting on the front step to get back in the house. Opening the door into the garage later that day I instinctively looked at the hood of my car to see if she was laying on it. (I seldom get bird droppings, but paw prints are like a hood design for me.) As I sat in my home study I looked at the ledge by the window where she quite often laid when the sun was shining through.

I realized that I had not only lost a cat, but also some of my daily traditions. I no longer have my hide-and-seek playmate for the evening. I can’t convince Carol to fill that role. If I went out to out hot tub for an evening soak the tradition has been that Boo would sit on top of the tub cover and peer into the night.

A part of my life was lost on Sunday, because things I’ve always done for the past eight years suddenly were finished.

I thought about that in regards to the church. Not cats dying, mind you, but rather traditions being lost.

There are many traditions that should never be lost, but there are a lot of traditions that just become lost. It is neither a good thing nor a bad, it just is. Like a cat that is not destined to live forever, but rather one day to just no longer be.

That is a hard thing for people of the church to hear. We make sacred cows out of a lot of baloney. We look for a world that is filled with things that suit us, while prickly points are vacuumed away.

I remember the first time Carol and I put up a Christmas tree, and she decorated it all wrong, because I was raised to think that there was only one way to decorate a Christmas tree…and she was brought up in a family that had found a different way. My tradition died, but in its place was born a new tradition that has suited our family of five well. Letting go of my understanding, however, was hard!

All of us have our areas of inflexibility. All congregations battle a desire for attracting new people with an addiction to keeping things the way we like it.

Will we ever get another cat? I don’t know. I’m still looking for the one we just lost.

Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
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Church Partnerships

November 7, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                    November 6, 2012

 

I’ve always believed…well, at least since I had Tom Finger as a professor in seminary…that the church should be involved in helping make the community a better place. Involved may be too limiting a word. Perhaps “essential assisting” is closer to the truth.

The church should constantly seek that delicate balance between prophetic and peacemaking. Peacemaking includes that community involvement that searches for health and unity. The recent election visibly shows the polarization in our nation. People don’t agree, and sad as it is, it seems that there is not a desire to find agreement. Compromise is seen as a weak alternative.

What if each church sought to bring together communities? What if a church extended it’s serving hands to everyone around it? What if a community was networked by a church that intentionally saw the importance of “essential assisting.”

Last Saturday about forty people from three of our neighborhood churches spent the morning serving our neighbors- raking leaves and bagging them, cleaning out gutters, weeding gardens, repairing ripped screens. It was a good day!

The morning began with Baptists, Mennonites, and Presbyterians sharing a meal together before heading out “interdenominationally” in eight work teams. Neighbors were appreciative and delighted. It’s about the seventh “Community Hands” work day that we’ve worked together on. Some of our neighbors have become “regulars.” They include a 90 year old widow, a mother with health problems and her 30 year old mentally challenged son, and some other elderly folks who just can’t do yardwork anymore. They see us as three churches that care about them. There is a connection there.

Yesterday I met with the principal and school social worker at the grade school down the street from our church to talk about…partnership! This will be the fourth year that we have partnered with the school’s student council in providing Thanksgiving baskets for families in need who include children enrolled at the school. The students do a canned goods drive, and our congregation collects frozen turkeys and bags of potatoes. Together we assemble the baskets for the families who will receive them.

Essential assisting. The school has a wonderful faculty that does some amazing things for students in need. And now, they eagerly join with us in the ministry of serving.

The hang-up with many congregations is that they want to see community involvement translate into “butts in the seats.” They envision a dividend of more people coming through the doors on Sunday morning. When that doesn’t happen there is often the closing of the drawbridge and the church retreats to a “fortress mentality.”

That mentality is a short-sighted view of the Kingdom of God. Perhaps it is also a cultural view, that I’ll go along with it as long as there is a tangible reward soon enough. Bringing peace into the midst of a troubled life isn’t seen as being enough. Meanwhile our communities struggle…and churches struggle!

Communities struggle because of the chaos in people’s lives, and churches struggle because they choose to be blind to the chaos.

Last Saturday’s day of service won’t suddenly make our neighborhood a new utopia, but it is a step towards healing and establishing that sense of community.

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Pastor For Dinner

November 1, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                         November 1, 2012

 

“The mashed potatoes are ready”, came the voice from the kitchen.

“Is the table set?”

“I think we still need steak knives.”

“Dinner rolls are hot out of the oven.”

“Pitchers of iced tea and water are on the table.”

“Okay! Let’s gather everyone at the table and say grace.”

The six people of various ages converged on the dining room and took their assigned seats. It was their Sunday afternoon custom- dinner after church. It wasn’t called lunch because it took the place of two meals for the day and was served promptly at two o’clock…if church didn’t run long! “Long” was defined as anything exceeding one hour and ten minutes. The pastor was expected to do on-the-spot sermon revisions if the singing, announcements about everything that was happening that week, prayer requests and actual praying time, story time for the children, scripture reading, mission moment, and offering ran long. If Aunt Bessie needed to share about her sister Mildred’s gall bladder untrasound, and Deacon Herman was led by the Spirit to present the prayer request of people using excessive speed driving into the church parking lot, then sometimes the pastor’s message became more of a summary meditation thought.

Pot roasts were in the crock pots, and the Methodists needed to be beaten to the restaurants. Three points and a poem were often “Cliffs Noted” into one point and a quote. When it came down to expository preaching and pot roasts the perceptive pastor knew when to yield.

“Dear Lord! We thank you for your many blessings, and this meal that we are about to partake of. May it be used to give us strength! Amen!”

Five other amens echoed through the room, and then the food started it’s rotation around the table.

“Beautiful solo this morning by Margaret!”

“Yes, it was! She has such an incredible voice.”

“I didn’t realize that Henry Smith was having prostate problems.”

“Nor I! And how about Lorraine having to put her dog down. So sad!”

“Did you see little Angela during the story time? She kept making faces at the pastor. I couldn’t help but laugh.”

“So precious!”

“My insides were making faces at the pastor during the message. What was his point anyway?”

“Don’t ask me! He lost me even before he finished reading the scripture.”

“I timed him today. Twenty-six minutes and thirty-four seconds.”

“He needs to cut it down to twenty.”

“Fifteen, if he would just speak faster!”

“I hate it when he brings in world hunger and poverty during his sermon. It makes me feel guilty having dinner.”

“And, Lord knows, we deserve a nice dinner after having to endure another Sunday lecture.”

“And when he uses one of those more contemporary versions of the Bible it just turns me off.”

“The King James is such beautiful language. It’s almost like listening to a Shakespeare play.”

“I don’t like bringing current events into the pulpit. Stick with what Jesus said and we’ll be fine, but you start talking about what’s going on in the world and you just lose people.”

“Would anyone care for another roll?”

“Please!”

“I tell you…Sunday dinner is the most peaceful time of the week for me.”

“Me too!”

“Amen!”

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
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