What is Hard to See

            In my former pastorate in North Carolina, my family and I lived in a parsonage.  For those who are new to church, a parsonage is a house owned by a church in which they allow (or insist) their minister and his or her family to live at no charge while the pastor serves in that congregation.  Most congregations talk about their parsonage as a “perk” to being their pastor, and the fair rental value of the parsonage is often included in the pastor’s compensation package.  The parsonage that my family and I lived in for five years was a house located less than 100 feet from the church building, and it was built in the 1930’s to be that church’s parsonage.  It was a large house, nearly 3,500 square feet, and for my family it was probably the largest house we will ever live in.

            The neighborhood that surrounded the church was what could be termed “transitional.”  On the street in front of the church and parsonage lived several church members who had purchased older homes and restored them to beautiful condition.  This was Church Street, and it was a beautiful picture of small town America with tree lined streets with sidewalks and perfectly manicured lawns.  Then there was the street behind the church and parsonage.  On the block that backed up to the parsonage was a row of rental houses that many would describe as being owned by a “slum lord.”  The houses were old and drafty, and were rented to multiple people within the same year because the routine was for people to quickly fall behind in their rent and then be evicted.

            I knew many of the people who occupied these houses as some of them would regularly come asking for assistance.  Some of them I liked and I had a relationship with, others were scarier individuals who would come and bother my family at the most inopportune times.  It was not uncommon for someone to show up about dinner time and we would normally make them a plate of whatever we were having for dinner.  Sometimes people would come early in the morning, and every once in a while they would come late at night.  This was a part of life in that parsonage.

            This is no longer a part of my life.  I live in a place where this never happens, and I am grateful.  The peace and quiet that my family and I have at our home was new to us when we moved to Powhatan, and I value our home because it is our place of sanctuary, a place that I can step away from the needs and demands of ministry and simply be relaxed as husband and dad.  My kids are safe, no hungry people wait outside of our front door, and we have never had to share our dinner with a hungry person.  I love the peace, quiet, seclusion, and privacy of our home.

            I understand what draws people to Powhatan, and I would imagine that escaping the uncomfortable encounters much like I experienced is a part of it.  We like our solitude, our quiet, and our privacy.  And at times I worry that the blessing of my home in our wonderful community numbs me to the reality of need in our world.  I worry that I forget about the human needs of our world, and some days I also miss the blessing of meeting those needs.

            In the Magnificat, Mary sings a song about the child in her womb setting the world right.  She sings about the lowly being lifted up and the hungry being filled.  She sings about a world that will be as God intended the world to be, a world of justice and equity and peace.  Mary’s singing is so compelling that it invites God’s people into God’s work, not just singing but working to make God’s vision a reality.

            Very often it is hard for me to see the needy people in Powhatan.  The blessings of our wonderful home carry subtle risks.  We risk blindness to many needs, and we risk missing the blessing of service.  We all know that there are many needs in our community, needs that are often less visible than in other places.  Let us pray with Mary for a restored world and let us pray that our eyes will be open to see the hurt and hunger that exists around the edges of the good place we all call home.

Beginning with Comfort

   Each of the Gospel writers begin telling the story of Jesus in different ways.  Mark, whose account we are reading this year, skips the normal birth narrative altogether.  The only birth that is described in Mark’s Gospel is the watery birth of baptism.  Matthew, Luke, and John also have their different approaches to the beginning of the story of Jesus.

            When George Frederick Handel begins his telling of the “Messiah” story, he also begins the story in a unique way.  After the instrumental introduction, Handel has a tenor step forward and slowly, clearly sing Isaiah 40.

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.

Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her,

that her warfare is accomplished,

that her iniquity is pardoned:

for she hath received of the LORD's hand double for all her sins.

(Click Here for a Video of the Tenor Aria)

            The tenor doesn’t rush through this verse, he dwells pointedly on that first word.  Comfort.  Before the music allows us to move on, we hear the word comfort no fewer than six times. 

            Our culture, given the choice, would start and end it with the Hallelujah Chorus (Handel does neither), because we always want to skip to Hallelujahs.  But Handel and the Church understand what God’s people often need, especially when we’re in exile, is comfort.

            We are in need of comfort these days, for so much of what we’re experiencing is so un-comfortable.  And on the Second Sunday in Advent that is exactly what the prophet brings to us: 

A God who offers comfort. 

A shepherd who tends and feeds his flock. 

A shepherd who will gather his lambs into his arms. 

And will place them on his lap. 

And will gently guide us.

Advent Waiting with the Port William Membership

The Port William township is a fictional place in Kentucky created in the mind of writer Wendell Berry.  The stories that make up Port William begin in the second half of the 19th century and flow for about one hundred years through the characters and families who inhabit that farming community.  I’ve just re-read my favorite (so far) of the books that make up the Port William novels, Jayber Crow, and I’m planning on reading (re-reading some) all of Berry’s Port William novels over the next couple of months.  Berry’s imagined community portrays a world that is different from the world in which we live.  In the span of time and space that separate us from Port William, much has changed.  Reading about the Coulters and the Catletts and the Keiths and the Feltners one quickly notices their goodness, their integrity, their honesty, their work-ethic, and their decency.  They are committed people: committed to their families, their community, their church, their way of life, their farming.  They are committed to each other, and they’re committed to their land.  They are not perfect people, but there is something in my heart that makes me want to mirror their goodness when I read about them.

In addition to all of this, they are patient people.

They wait for the rain to come, they wait for the seasons to change, they wait for the ground to dry so they may plow the fields.  Many do not have cars, so they wait for a ride to go to the next town to shop.  They wait for their weekly favorite radio show.  They wait for the lambing of the sheep and the calving of the cows.  They wait before they speak, and they wait for the lengthening of the days.  They are patient people.  Their lives are slow and measured.  In that different time and place, they are not in a hurry.

Our world is not like Port William.  Our world, with its technology, has eliminated our need to wait for most things.  We are “immediate” people, we want things to happen on our schedule, exactly when we want it, and that we should not have to wait for anything.

            Our world has already jumped to Christmas.  There was no waiting, no patience, the culture simply jumped to the holiday full force.  But if Christmas means the Coming of the Holy One, of God with Us, we people of faith know that God does not work on our immediate schedule.  God rarely comes when we’re expecting Him, more often than not God moves in ways that require us to practice patience and faith. God works on God’s schedule, and for us that means waiting with attentive hearts.

            This Sunday we begin the season of Advent.  For us Baptists we begin catching a foretaste of Christmas during the Advent season, but as we slowly light each candle of the Advent Wreath we are reminded that for ages God’s people waited for the coming Messiah.  This also means that we often have to wait for God.

            I could readily name several things for which I’m waiting on God.  Things that I continue to pray about and carry before God, and God has not yet come for me in these places.  Sometimes it would be easy to give up, to despair, and to try to take matters in my own hands.  But I know that for ages and ages God’s people have waited, and even though they didn’t know when it would happen, God came.

            These Advent Sundays are as important for me this year as they ever have been, and I know that for many in our May Memorial family there are important for them too. 

            Be patient, pray, cry out, keep watch, be alert, for God will come. 

My Gratitude List, the BGAV, and Total Praise

As I was driving to the BGAV (Baptist General Association of Virginia) meeting this past Wednesday morning at Bon Air Baptist Church, I had one thought on my mind: I didn’t want to go.  Don’t get me wrong, I think the BGAV meetings are great gatherings.  And I love my Virginia Baptist family.  A big part of the reason that I didn’t want to go is that there is not an “introvert track” at the BGAV, and I need a good amount of quiet time alone, especially in the mornings.  After two full days in the large crowd, I had about reached my limit.  But I went anyway, mopey attitude and all.  I entered the back of the sanctuary, sitting almost on the back pew in the very far corner.  Not long after I sat down a choir began singing, and they caught my attention.  It was a choir from an African-American congregation in Richmond.  They finished their first piece, and then they began their second selection, and I recognized it immediately.  I have sung it as a hymn before (at a Montreat Worship and Music Conference), and it is one of my favorites.  The title of the song is Total Praise, and it begins with the words of Psalm 121, “Lord, I will lift my eyes to the hills.”  The energy of the song builds steadily to the climax, and then ends quietly.  It is powerful, it is moving, it brings tears to my eyes.  Here’s a link if you’d like to listen to another choir sing Total Praise.

The song is wonderful, and the choir that sang it at the BGAV meeting was extraordinary.  But what listenting to that choir did for me that day was it “got me out of my head” and caused me to focus on something bigger, more powerful, more beautiful, something beyond myself.  Music does that for me.  Worship does it too. Gratitude does that for me as well. 

I have a devotional book that offers me a short thought each day, and on many days at the end of the reflection I jot down a list of things that I am grateful for that day.  It is a simple exercise that sets my world in perspective.  In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I offer to you one a short list of what I am thankful for today:

I am thankful for my wife of 27 years come the 28th of December,

            who loves me even when I am (frequently) unlovable,

            and reminds me to not take myself too seriously,

            and still makes me look forward to days we can spend together, just the two of us.

I am thankful for my three wonderful daughters;

            I am thankful that they are smart, strong, and independent,

            I am thankful that they are compassionate and caring of others.

I am thankful for my church family at May Memorial;

I am thankful for my parents and my wife’s parents,

            that they made us go to church as children—even when it wasn’t fun,

            that they sent us to college,

and expected us take responsibility for ourselves when we became adults and were married.

I am thankful that I was able to go to the Holy Land this year, and sing Silent Night in Bethlehem, and fall on my knees and pray at Calvary, and stand with tears in my eyes in the Empty Tomb.

I am thankful for my home,

            that it is warm and safe,

            that it faces east so the sun shines in the front windows in the morning,

            and that I don’t have to act like a pastor there;

I am thankful that I have all I need, and so much more;

I am thankful God gives me things for free that I could never afford…

            like the joy of sitting by a fire in my yard with my family,

            and the wonder of a sunset over the ocean on summer vacation.

I am thankful for the people that I have met that I would have never sought out and the things I learned from them;

I am thankful that in August of 2007 God rescued me in a powerful way and gave me a life of peace, joy, freedom, and sobriety.

I am thankful for the painful experiences that taught me things I would have never learned without them;

I am thankful for music and people who compose or perform it,

            like Jackson Browne, Bruce Springsteen, Jay Ungar, and Doc Watson,

            and Vaughan Williams, J.S. Bach, Morten Lauridsen, and Josquin des Prez.

This week of Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful, to “get out of our heads,” and to notice all the goodness, blessing, power, and beauty that is around us.  You are like me, we are blessed beyond all that we can imagine.  We owe God, the giver of all our good gifts, our Total Praise.

It's Almost Advent, So What's the Plan at May Memorial?

I wait all year to sing Joy to the World, The First Noel, and Silent Night.  And, when I sing Silent Night I want to be holding a burning candle in a dimly-lit sanctuary.  I look forward to singing these carols, and I look forward to hearing the choir sing the annual Christmas Cantata.  I look forward to taking a seat in a pew, breathing in a deep breath (a sight of relief), and hearing the Christmas story in song by our wonderful musicians.  I look forward to it every year.

So, what is the plan for this year?

Stuart, our gifted and skilled Director of Music, has dealt with a couple of tough health issues this year.  First she was diagnosed with cancer at the beginning of this calendar year, and then, over the past weeks she has struggled with a heart procedure that was quickly followed by pneumonia.  We have spoken Stuart’s name to God many times in prayer this year, because we love her, and we want God to heal her and make her well.  Stuart is on the mend, but we do not bounce back from these illnesses quickly.  Stuart is looking forward to being back at the organ console and the conductor’s stand, but it will likely be a month or so before she is able to do that.

So, what is the plan?

First, we are blessed to have Sandra Parker as our pianist and accompanist.  Sandra has stepped in and has taken on much of the music in worship, and we are blessed to have Sandra lead us in worship from the piano.

Second, Mary Ellen Balarzs has agreed to help lead the choir.  She will lead choir rehearsals on Thursday nights, and she will direct the choir on Sunday mornings.  Mary Ellen and the choir are continue to follow the plan that Stuart laid out, including the cantata for December 17th.

Third, other musicians and groups from within the church will provide music in worship.  The Men’s Quartet, the Ensemble (they’re working on a name :) ) that has led music at the early service, and others will be a part of 11:00 a.m. worship over the next few weeks.

And lastly, you will be hearing a few guests organists through the Advent and Christmas Season.  This Sunday (and possibly other Sundays before Christmas) Paul Honaker, who served Bon Air Baptist for nearly forty years, will be with us.  Donald Moro and Jeff Hummel, both capable organists, will also be with us between now and the end of the year.

Music is very important to Christian worship, maybe even the most important part for many Christians.  It is important to us at May Memorial, especially at Advent and Christmas.  And this is the plan.  First, keep praying for Stuart.  And then, let go (loosen up) and anticipate all of the ways the Good News of the Word Made Flesh will come to us.

What is certain is that when we get to Christmas, Jesus will come.  In a world where nothing goes exactly as planned, where nothing is perfect, Jesus always comes.  May we rest assured knowing that God will be with us.

How Churches are Like Hydrangeas and What Makes May Memorial Unique

Churches are like hydrangeas.  With churches and hydrangeas, the place where they are planted affects their appearance.  A church that is planted in Appalachia looks significantly different than one that is planted in Manhattan.  A church that is planted in Eastern North Carolina looks different than a church that is planted in the Pacific Northwest.  And hydrangeas, they look different, have a different color, based on the pH of soil.

May Memorial, just like every church, is planted in a particular place among particular people.  And because of this place and this people where the Gospel took root, our life together as a church looks different than if it were planted in any other place among any other people.

And we are unique.  We are different from every other church in the world, and we are distinct from every other church even in our own county.  I’ve thought a lot lately about what makes us unique, and I’d like to share a few things.

One thing that makes us unique: our worship can be described as “traditional.”

We have a choir, use hymnals, sing hymns, have a choir anthem, begin with a prelude, have a benediction, and pray the Lord’s Prayer together.  We use “traditional” instruments mostly, an organ, and a piano.  We have at least one scripture reading each Sunday, and we loosely follow the Church Year (Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, and Easter).  This does not mean that we are ruled by our “tradition,” because we do have variations on a regular basis.  We include videos in worship from time to time, and it is not at all uncommon to hear someone sing a contemporary song in worship with a guitar.  I like to say that we are “creatively traditional.”  We are not afraid to include new or different things as they are appropriate, but based on the soil in which May Memorial has been planted, our expression of the Church is basically traditional.

There are many who prefer to worship in other ways than “traditional.”  There are many who find God in modern-styled darkened auditoriums with a full contemporary band that wouldn’t recognize Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise if their life depended on it.  And we should honor this expression of Church.  But it is not us.  And what is more, there are many individuals who still look for worship the way we do it.

We should never apologize for being “traditional.”  We should never feel that we are somehow “less” and that we must change in order to be vibrant and fruitful.  We should celebrate and lean into our uniqueness, understanding that God has called us together as a people and placed us in this place at this time.

We are unique in our community, and what is most important is that when we worship, God is in our midst.  In scripture, in hymns.  In anthems and preludes and sometimes even in the sermon.  God honors our worship, not because of the style, but because it comes from the hearts of His people.

Thanks be to God for worship at May Memorial.  I rejoice in the way God continues to work among us, and draw people to Himself through the faithful worship of God’s people.

The Great Thanksgiving and World Communion Sunday

An Ancient and Universal Prayer…

This coming Sunday is World Communion Sunday, and we (I) will do something at May Memorial that we’ve never done before.

World Communion Sunday is celebrated by many Christian denominations, and it is always the first Sunday in October.  The idea of World Communion Sunday started at Shadyside Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh, but it did not gain momentum until after World War II.  After God’s people saw how the world was harmed and torn apart with war, they recognized the importance of demonstrating, at Christ’s Table, that all of God’s people are one, that we share “one faith, one hope, and one baptism.”

In worship at May Memorial this Sunday we will include The Great Thanksgiving in worship.  Across time and space, the words of The Great Thanksgiving have been spoken, sung, and chanted by Christians as they come to the Lord’s Table.  These words unite us as Christians to our sisters and brothers across time and geographical boundaries.  These words go back to the early church, and the early church based them on the words spoken by God’s Jewish people when celebrating the passover.  And these words follow the pattern of the words at Passover, in that they do three things.

First, they thank God for creation, providence, for God’s covenantal loyalty (hesed), for seasonal blessings, and for all of God’s good works.

Second, they remember God’s acts of salvation, most notably in Jesus Christ: his birth, life, death, resurrection, and promised coming.

Third, they call upon the Holy Spirit to draw people to the feast, that they may be redeemed, saved, and strengthened by the risen Christ.

Scripture makes up a large portion of The Great Thanksgiving.  You will recognize words from Isaiah, “Holy, Holy, Holy…” and words from Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem “Hosanna! Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!”  Many of the words will be spoken, but some this Sunday will also be sung.

This Sunday we will join with Christians around the world at the Lord’s Table, and we will be using a practice and tradition that is as old as our faith.  In a culture that sees little or no value in maintaining important practices and traditions, this is a statement that the traditions of the Church are important and enliven God’s people today.

Praying for You...

            There is a method of prayer that I love to use on retreats.  Those in attendance are divided into two groups, and the first group sits in a circle facing inward.  They bow their heads and close their eyes, and then those in the other group move quietly from person to person, placing their hands on their shoulders and head, and silently pray for the person they are touching.  After everyone has had a chance to pray for each seated person, the two groups change places and the ones who previously prayed are now prayed for.

            It has always been a moving experience when I have done this.  Some people shed tears, some grab onto the person for whom their praying.  It is moving because it means a lot to us to know that someone is praying for us.  To know that we are lifted up before God by name is a moving realization.

            As your pastor, I pray for you.  I spend time in prayer most mornings, and I pray for you by name during that time.  I use a copy of the church directory to pray for each person who is a member of our church family, and I lift you up to God.  I pray for you when I pass your house.  I pray that God will bless you and that you will know God’s peace.  I pray for our children when I pass the school they attend, and I pray for our teachers, administrators, and workers in that school.  Sometimes I will pray for you (silently) during worship, and sometimes I pray (silently) for you during a meeting.  Of course I have prayed for many of you while with you in the hospital, but I also stop in the chapel of the hospital and spend more time praying for you.  When I walk to the front of the sanctuary to lead a funeral, as soon as I find my seat I begin praying for the family who is sitting to my left.  Often I don’t know what words to use, I don’t know what is meaningful to pray for, so I will imagine you in my mind’s eye and I picture God’s healing grace flooding over you like a blanket.

            As a member of the May Memorial family you are prayed for.  Not in some large “I pray for the congregation” sense, but in an individual way, by name.  I do this because you are important to me, and you are important to God.  It is a part of my vocation that brings me joy and love, and I count it a privilege to carry your name before our God who hears all of our prayers.

An Open Door...

I spend a lot of time in hospitals.  There are not many weeks in the year that pass without me stepping into a hospital to see a member of our church family who is about to have surgery, recovering from surgery, or spending time healing.  If the doctor steps in when I am there I always offer to leave the room, but I am rarely asked by a church member to do so.  As I hear the conversation between the patient and the doctor, it is clear that the doctor is the expert in the room, and I (along with any family members present) am praying that the patient will do exactly what the doctor says.  After the information is gathered from tests, the doctor is the one who prescribes exactly what should be done.  I don’t think I have ever heard a patient listen to the doctor’s plan of treatment, and then reply with an alternative plan that is as hopeful as the doctor’s.  The doctor is the expert, and even if one doesn’t like the plan, one has the most hope for a meaningful recovery if that plan is followed.

            There are pastors who think they are the doctors and everyone else in the church is the patient.  These pastors view themselves as the expert, the final word.  These pastors think that if they can only get the church to follow their plan, preferences, and ideas, the church will be fruitful and fully live into God’s mission in the community and world.  In their estimation their opinion is the only one that should be taken seriously, and they have little time for suggestions, observations, and constructive criticism.

            This is not the image of a pastor that I embrace or aspire to, and it is not how I view my myself or our church family.  I believe that every Christian at May Memorial is called by God to help our church family live into the fullness of God’s mission.  Every Christian at May Memorial can be led by God’s Holy Spirit, and when the Holy Spirit impresses something on someone’s heart about what we can do, or what we can do better, I want to hear it.

            I will listen to you.

            I believe that theological education is essential for the vocation of a pastor.  But seminary does give a man or a woman God’s unique vision for a particular congregation.  A pastor along with the church, with hearts open to God’s leading, discover through committed dialog how to live into God’s mission for the church.  Your voice is essential.

            This does not mean every idea is a workable idea.  I have had many bad ideas that did not work.  This also does not mean that “gossipy” complaints or the use of the “anonymous we” is healthy for churches either.  But healthy dialog in which constructive ideas are used to improve May Memorial is essential for our church life, and I will listen to you.

            There are no ideas that are too “outside the box” for me to hear.  All ideas are worthy to be spoken and heard, and it is essential that you share those.  God uses each Christian who is a part of the May Memorial family to form us and guide us into the church that God is calling us to be, and I pray that each member feels the freedom to come to me and share your ideas. 

            My door is always open.  I will listen to you.

After Twelve Years…What I Want to Say

This morning as I came into the pastor’s study at May Memorial I was cognizant of the face that today marks twelve years for me as the pastor of May Memorial.  Labor Day 2011 was my family’s first day spent in Powhatan, and then my work as pastor began the next day.  As I mark this time, there are several things that I want to say to the church family.  These statements will be my next several newsletter articles, beginning today.

When I was in seminary I dreamed of my ideal church.  In my mind’s eye I envisioned what the building would look like.  I could see the people.  I could imagine what worship was like, and I envisioned a traditional sanctuary (certainly not an auditorium).  At that time, it seemed that I was a lifetime away from being the pastor of such a “dream church,” but I knew what kind of church I wanted to serve as pastor.  I also believed then as I believe now that this “dream church” was the type of church God had (and has) called me to serve.

May Memorial is my dream church.  May Memorial is like every other church in the world in that it is imperfect, but for me, it was and continues to be my answer to prayer.  I love May Memorial Church, and I love those who worship, work, learn, and participate in any way in our life together.  I love our church as a whole, and I love the individuals who make up our church.

I love the sense of welcome and community that is felt at our church…

I love our traditional worship…

I love our quality Sunday School classes…

I love our youth and our children…

I love our senior adults and the goodness they bring to our church…

I love our Wednesday night meals…

I love how important missions are at May Memorial…

I love the quality of music that has long been a part of May Memorial…

I love our deacons and their vision of themselves as a ministry-oriented body…

I love how our building is well cared for and maintained…

I love our choir and their devotion to their craft…

I love that May Memorial still has the organ in worship…

I love the current staff at May Memorial…

I love those who have served before me, excellent pastors on whose shoulders I stand…

I love those who worship here every Sunday…

I love those who show up on Easter and Christmas…

I love those who are on numerous committees and teams…

I love those who quietly show up to worship occasional Sundays…

When things are going well it is easy to love a church and its people, but I have grown to love May Memorial most in times that are a little more challenging.  We have had those over the past few years.  May Memorial is not perfect, none of its members are perfect, and neither is its pastor.  But on our best days and on our worst days, I love this church, and I love the people that are a part of our church family.

May Memorial is a gift of God to our community, it is a gift of God to my family and me, and I have great love for you and for our church.

This is My Story

I think one of my favorite stories in all of scripture comes toward the end of Genesis.  Joseph, his father’s favorite son, has been sold into slavery by his brothers.  He is taken to Egypt where he works his way up the success ladder in short time.  He experiences a few setbacks, but because of his character and perseverance he ends up being the second highest official in all of Egypt, second only to the Pharaoh.  A famine comes, and his family, back in Canaan, are desperate for food so his father sends his brothers to Egypt for a share of Egypt’s stockpile (this stockpile was to Joseph’s credit as well).  To make a long story short, Joseph’s brothers end up standing before him, and they do not recognize their brother.  He looks like an Egyptian.  But Joseph recognizes his brothers.  After a little jeopardy and intrigue, there is a grand reunion of Joseph and his family.  It is a marvelous story.

One of the characters that is “absent” from the story though, is God.  God is rarely mentioned in the story of Joseph.  But for God’s people, we know that God has His hands all over the story.  God, although not named (at least frequently), is leading and protecting and sustaining and saving His people.  When Joseph wanted to see God, all he had to do was look back at his life.

The same is true of us.

Over the next year we will have a theme at May Memorial, “This is My Story.”  We will hear stories from people in our church family how God has protected, and sustained, and guided, and saved.  Some of these will be familiar stories, some will be stories that you may have never heard.  But the theme will be the same, in all of our stories, God has been present.

If you have a story you want to tell, let me know.  If you know of someone else who has a story, let me know.  When we hear each other’s stories we are encouraged, strengthened, and community is built.

And what we will find is that not only is it “my story,” it is also “God’s story,” because even if we weren’t able to name it at the time, God is the unseen character in all of our stories.

This is My Story…

This is God’s Story…

Why I Went to the Police Department While at Montreat

Last Sunday, June 25, my family and I left immediately after worship for a conference in Montreat, NC.  We drove two cars, Beverley and I in front, our three girls following behind us.  Worship began at 7:30 that evening in Anderson Auditorium, so we were not wasting any time.  We stopped for an early dinner about 90 minutes from our destination, and we were on track to check in and quickly get to worship.  All was good.

But as we got closer to Montreat (which is only about 4 miles off of Interstate 40), I began noticing a pick-up truck that had apparently “joined” our Edwards’ procession.  At times the truck would move into the passing lane, speed up, and as they were beside Anna, Sophie, and Laura, I would think, “thank goodness, they are going to pass us.”  But then, the truck would slow back down and get behind the girls again.  I thought "bad driver.”  This happened for a good twenty-five miles.  We finally got to exit 64, the Black Mountain/Montreat exit, and when we began to exit the truck, from the center passing lane, came across all lanes of traffic and continued to follow our girls.  On the exit ramp, Sophie (who was in the passenger seat) called Beverley, in a panic.  Come to find out, each time the truck pulled up beside them on the interstate, the two men inside were pointing for them to exit off the interstate.

These men (I think) didn’t know that our girls were following Beverley and me on the interstate.  These men also didn’t notice as they followed them that I had driven directly to the Black Mountain police department parking lot.  Before I could get the car in park Beverley was out and running back to where the girls were.  The men in the truck, putting it all together (that Beverley and I were with them and that we were in the police department parking lot), sped off down the road.

The following day we were at a restaurant and there was a police officer at a table beside us.  I went and sat down with him, told him what had happened, and asked him what he thought was going on.  Of course he told me what Beverley and I feared.  Most likely, an attempt for human trafficking.

The more we thought about it, the more frightened we became.  Beverley and I began thinking about all of the “what-ifs.”  It was scary, eye-opening, and it made me realize that there is a very real risk out there for women, especially young women, when it comes to human trafficking.

I thought a lot this past week about those men in that truck.  I also thought about others who bring harm, especially those who harm children.  I don’t have to name the examples, they are all around us.  I thought about my desire for justice, for punishment, and how too often the punishment (time spent in prison) just does not seem to match the crime.

I also think about how God’s forgiveness is for everyone, every sin and every crime.  I think about how my forgiveness is (at times) not that limitless.  I also thought about the reality that even though God forgives, there are consequences to our actions, and that churches must, as we do at May Memorial, take steps to protect those who are a part of the family.  God’s forgiveness does not mean that we should “let bygones be bygones.”

Through the week I heard a lot of scripture.  I read a lot of scripture.  And even though it was not a part of worship, Bible study, or the theme for our conference at Montreat, the one text that kept coming to my mind was Matthew 18:6…

But whoso shall offend one of these little ones…it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.

Woe to those who harm children.  Woe to those who, in their selfish and ungodly desires, take innocence and leave lives scarred for decades.  Jesus calls them to beware.  In fact, he says that it would be better that a millstone be hung around the neck and tossed into the sea.

Serious business.

What I Learned at VBS

When I was growing up Vacation Bible School was a part of my yearly schedule.  I attended the morning VBS at the church where my family and I were members, but the more memorable VBS I attended was at a Baptist church which was closer to our home.  Emmaus Baptist Church had their VBS in the evenings, and they had a reputation in that southern Wayne County community for a memorable VBS experience.  There was nothing “over the top” in their VBS—no smoke and laser light shows, no live band, not even any inflatable slides—it was simply a consistent, well-planned program by a good group of adults who genuinely cared for children in their community.

            The first reason I think VBS at that country church impacted me because it taught me that I could find ways to lead in church.  I’ll never forget the excitement I had when I was told that I was going to be able to carry the Bible in the procession that started the closing service of VBS and then lead the congregation in saying the pledge to “God’s holy word.”  We routinely have children lead in various ways in worship at May Memorial, but when I was a child it seemed that most churches were still in the “children are to be seen and not heard” mode.  Being able to lead God’s people in that simple routine told me that I had something to offer the community and that the church would embrace me in that role.  I felt like I mattered.

            I also learned in those days from that church that missions mattered.  To their credit, Emmaus Baptist followed the exact plan for VBS that the Sunday School Board produced which included a focus on a different missionary each night.  I remember bringing my offering and learning about the Baptist men and women who were carrying good news throughout the world and how my offering was a part in making that possible.  I remember learning about Lottie Moon at VBS, I heard about the Southern Baptist “Bold Mission Thrust” campaign that encouraged giving and cooperation so that the over-arching goals of God’s kingdom could be accomplished.

            Last, and most important, I remember the crafts that I made at VBS.  Growing up in church I’ve made a lot of crafts, but I remember these crafts as the best.  One year a group of men decided they would do the crafts (or perhaps they were volunteered by their wives?) and each child was able to make a wooden sign that carried their last name.  As a little boy I was ecstatic when I realized that I was going to be able to operate a router and engrave all seven letters of my last name into a 1x6 piece of lumber.  The next night we took strong smelling oil-based black paint and colored in the letters. Before the week was over our signs were complete with a stained finish covered with shellac and ready to be hung on the outside of our houses.  It was a great craft, but what is most memorable about it was the men who took the time to carefully guide us children in the making of it.  Most of the time it seems that VBS is up to the ladies, and with only a few exceptions they staff the entire VBS week.  But I remember those men who helped with VBS.  They took us to see the goats in the field beside the church one night.  They impressed us when they took our dares to touch the electric fence.  And I remember them carefully and skillfully guiding our hands as we held the power router.  I was blessed by seeing men lead in VBS, and their willingness to be the craft leaders demonstrated to me that gender-specific roles in the church are only barriers we have erroneously allowed to occur.

            I learned much from VBS, and I pray as children are flocking into our church this week they are learning some of the same things.  Our four days of VBS may seem like a small thing in light of an entire childhood, but God uses small things to shape lives.

A New Opportunity for May Memorial

In October of last year May Memorial’s leaders were approached with an exciting and unanticipated opportunity.

Kountry Kid’s Daycare, located across the street from the church, has served our Powhatan community well for many years.  Wendy Goodwyn owned and operated Kountry Kids most of those years, and she offered quality childcare for hundreds of children who went there daily and found nurture, good instruction, care, and loving community.  A couple of years ago Wendy, ready to retire, sold Kountry Kids (the business and the property) to a local couple, Nathan and Heather Nuckols.  The Nuckols wanted to see the quality childcare continue, and they also wanted Kountry Kids to be faith-based with the influence of a good church.

The Nuckols knew that May Memorial was the church they wanted to be a part of Kountry Kids.

When this potential opportunity came to May Memorial, the Leadership Council appointed an ad hoc team to explore this opportunity.  Serving on the ad hoc team were Christina Fredette, Juston Sanudo, Constance Deal, Jackie Lindsey, Kemper Baker, and Carlisle Davidhizar.  They worked hard, met with the Nuckols and Wendy Goodwyn, talked to other churches and leaders of day cares and preschools, and pulled together a lot of information from Kountry Kids.  After months of work they brought a recommendation to the Leadership Council and Board of Directors that May Memorial take ownership of Kountry Kids daycare.

The Nuckols have offered May Memorial the “business” and equipment that is Kountry Kids.  The Nuckols would retain ownership of the building, which May Memorial would rent from the Nuckols (the Nuckols request a lease agreement that would be renewed yearly).  The same staff would stay in place, and there is one (or two) long-time staff member who would potentially serve as the director.  

After the ad hoc team brought their recommendation to the Leadership Council and Board of Directors, these two bodies began working to gather necessary information.  This information includes a sample lease agreement, detailed financial information from Kountry Kids, legal documents, enrollment records, etc.  Our church treasurer also has spoken to an attorney who would help with several aspects of this process if it moves forward.  With two CPAs in our church being a part of this process, the financials have been thoroughly examined.

At the last meeting of the Leadership Council and Board of Directors, it was unanimously approved to make a recommendation to the church that we move forward and take Kountry Kids (the business, not the property) as our own.  This is a motion that will be made at the quarterly church business meeting in June.  Before that meeting a packet of information will be made available to church members so you have time to read and consider all of the facts before the vote is taken.

Much more information will be presented closer to the business meeting, but here are a few things that are important to know:

First, this will not impact our church budget.  There will not be any additional line items in our budget for the daycare.  It has been and will continue to be fully self-supporting.  This business has turned a profit for many years, and it will continue to do so.

Second, the Board of Directors has spoken with our insurance agent and the Board is fully aware of the necessary insurance coverage that is required.  Again, this will not be a part of the May Memorial budget, but will continue to be a part of the Kountry Kids budget.

Third, a LLC will be created for our day care ministry, creating a safety wall for the church and limiting our liability.

Fourth, conversations have been held with parents and staff and they are very excited about the possibility of May Memorial taking Kountry Kids and it becoming faith based.

Finally, it is important to know the reasons as to why the ad hoc team, the Leadership Council, and the Board of Directors are all unanimously in favor of this.  First and foremost, this will be a ministry of our church.  Children will be taught about Jesus and about God’s love for them.  This will happen as the children of Kountry Kids are included in Vacation Bible School, Kingdom Kids on Wednesday afternoons, children’s events through the year, chapel services in the Kountry Kids building and in our building, Bible story time with Pastors Michael and Carlisle, and many more.  

This ministry will continue to provide working parents with quality childcare where their children are valued, cared for, provided safe space, and nurtured as they grow.  Kountry Kids has filled an important spot for families for many years, now May Memorial can ensure that will continue for families in our community.

All persons involved from May Memorial also have a “holy wonder” if this could also be a way for God to connect our church family with young families in our community.  There is a prayerful hope that through this more families with children will become a part of what God is doing at May Memorial.  This is a demographic we have not been most effective in reaching, and we pray that saying “yes” to this opportunity is a step in reaching more families.

Packets of information will be available several days before our meeting on June 14, and a great deal of information will be presented from our Board of Directors and Treasurer at the meeting.  I hope you will speak to me, Carlisle, Gerald, Sandy, or Juston if you have any questions that you feel are important to be answered before you can offer an informed vote.  This can be a great opportunity, it is also a big step for our church.  Your input, questions, and thoughts are valuable to us in the process as we follow God’s Spirit in how we can continue to reach out and minister in this wonderful place where God has put us.

Storing Pentecost in the Attic?

When we were preparing to move from North Carolina to Powhatan we decided that we would move all of the contents of our attic to our living room in an effort to get rid of unnecessary items before the movers came.  What followed were several ads on Craigslist and a Saturday morning yard sale.  In cleaning out the attic we were amazed at several things we found.  We were most happy over one find—a Bach Stradivarius trumpet that Beverley’s parents had given to her when she was in high school band.  We had had not seen the trumpet in years and had given up on ever seeing it again.  There were other finds in our attic, things we were happy to see and things that our children really thought were amusing, but when we moved you will never believe what we did with those things.  As the movers were carrying the boxes in that contained our “attic contents” we directed them to carry them straight up the stairs, up the “fold down” ladder, and place them in the attic.  All of those wonderful finds—the trumpet, the pictures, the high-school yearbooks, are now packed back in the attic; it was a joy to see them all, but now they are right back in the same place.

            Many Christians do the same thing with Pentecost.  You know the story—early Christians had gathered together 50 days after the resurrection, and suddenly a mighty wind filled the room, flaming tongues of fire rested over their heads, everyone heard the gospel preached in their native tongue, and the Church was born.  It was an experience in which the Christians lost control and made a spectacle of themselves.  It was over the top, excessive, and powerful.  It is a good story and a story we love, especially if we can just take it out about once a year and then get it back into the box.  We treat it like those treasures in our attics.  It is good to bring them down once in a while, let it warm our hearts, and then get it stored back into the attic.

            This coming Sunday we are going to bring this story out of the attic, take it out and focus on it during worship.  We are about 50 days past Easter, and this is a fitting time to look at it.  I would like to make a suggestion as we celebrate this Pentecostal Power this Sunday—maybe we shouldn’t put it back in the attic when we are finished.  Maybe we should be brave enough to let this story that is drenched with God the Holy Spirit’s power stay with us and affect our lives as individuals and as a Church Family.

            How would we be different if we did this, if we allowed the story of Pentecostal Power affect our well organized lives?  My first answer is that I don’t really know—I don’t know what (if anything) would change, but I know how it has affected Christians in the past.  The first thing that happened is that timid people became bold.  People who did not have the courage to share good news found themselves preaching so that all could hear.

Second, followers became leaders.  Jesus’ followers who did not think they could manage one day without Jesus beside them were now leading others.  Listeners became preachers, and the ones that Jesus was sent to became the ones sent.  And finally, new beginnings are granted.  It could have been all over when Jesus went back to heaven, but the most unlikely thing happened—the church had a new beginning.  The followers had the same power that Christ had, and it was a new day for the Church.

This is the kind of power that we need to leave out of the attic.  This is the power that needs to envelop our lives, but it is a risky way to live.  We lose control, we turn our wills over to the will of God, and we are goes where the wind blows.  But what excitement and joy we experience when we allow that Pentecostal Power to permeate our life together.

Music at May Memorial

I must have been in the fifth or sixth grade, and I was sitting in Sunday night church.  I was seated toward the back of the sanctuary, maybe on the back row, with my friends.  We had just sung Victory in Jesus as a congregational hymn, and after the hymn ended the pastor asked if anyone wanted to give a testimony.  I watched my dad stand up (he and my mom were sitting much closer to the front) and begin to talk.  His mother, my granny, had died just a few weeks before, and while I don’t remember anything else about his testimony I remember that at the end he said, “she has now experienced that victory in Jesus we just sang about.”  I think about that every time we sing Victory in Jesus. I especially thought about it when the quartet sang it yesterday.

Many years ago when Beverley and I had the chance we would drive to Durham on Sunday mornings and worship at Duke Chapel.  We loved the Gothic architecture, we loved hearing William Willimon preach, and we loved the music.  There were two organs in Duke Chapel at the time (there are four now), the Flentrop at the rear of the chapel was our favorite to hear played on those Sundays (click here to see the Flentrop organ and the other instruments in Duke Chapel).  I remember the first Sunday we worshiped at Duke Chapel, we arrived early, and the choir was still rehearsing.  We stood in the narthex and I heard them sing “My shepherd will supply my need, Jehovah is His name.”  They sang it perfectly later in worship that morning.  It is one of my favorite texts (it is a paraphrase of Psalm 23) and I love the tune from Southern Harmony to which it is most often sung.

If you were in worship yesterday at May Memorial, you heard Victory in Jesus sung (very well) by the men’s quartet.  We also sang the hymn My Shepherd Will Supply My Need as our second hymn.  While the reasons for doing so vary, I love both of these hymns.

This past Saturday afternoon we met in the sanctuary for a rehearsal for our new worship service which begins this Sunday.  The band worked on the congregational songs that we will sing this Sunday, and one of the songs is 10,000 Reasons.  This contemporary song is based on two older sources, one being Psalm 103, and the other being the 19th century hymn Praise My Soul the King of Heaven.  I have listened to the song as a source of spiritual encouragement for several years, and I love the version recorded by Josh Garrels, you can hear it by clicking here.  It is one of the songs that I listened to a lot while on my recent pilgrimage to the Holy Land.  I love the song.

There are so many different kinds of music that praises God, and I am grateful to be a part of a church that takes the Church’s Song very seriously.  I appreciate Stuart, Sandra, the choir, the quartet, and the newly formed band that will lead in our 8:30 service.  I rejoice that we recognize that God is praised, our hearts are warmed, and our minds are sharpened by a wide variety of hymnody, contemporary songs, instrumental music, and choral anthems.  I am blessed by the music of our church and the musicians who lead it.

Yes, the Victory is ours in Christ Jesus.  Yes, our Shepherd will supply our needs.  Yes, God is rich in love, slow to anger, God’s heart is kind, therefore, we will keep singing.

The First Time Amazing Grace was Sung

I don’t know when the hymn Amazing Grace was first sung by a congregation.  The words were written in 1772, it was published in 1779.  But the beloved John Newton hymn, from the writing of the text in 1772, when it was sung, was not sung to the tune to which we sing it.  The tune NEW BRITAIN was not written until 1835, and before that there were as many as thirty-five tunes that Christians would sing those famous words to.  But to my point, after Newton’s text was finally “married” to William Walker’s tune NEW BRITAIN, and clergy and musicians began selecting for their congregations to sing it in worship, I wonder how many Christians simply loved it as a new hymn?  Did anyone leave worship that day, the first time they sang Amazing Grace, and reply, “we’ve never sung that before, it was GREAT!”  Probably not.

If I am not careful, I am skeptical of new things.  I know what I like, and I like what I know.  I like things that are familiar and predictable.  I know where I find value, and when something changes I worry that I will not find the same value.  And yet I can hardly imagine a world in which in worship I couldn’t sing Amazing Grace.  This means that somewhere, someone had to do something new.  In doing “new” things, we just never know when it is going to be used by God and be a blessing to Church and world.

Each summer my family and I attend a music and worship conference in Montreat, NC, and it is just about the highlight of my year.  The best part of the day is worship, which happens at 11:00 a.m. each morning.  It is led by a large organ played by a world class organist.  Frequently there are brass players on the hymns, and it is thoroughly traditional.  I love it.  My spirit is renewed and comforted in the excellence but also in the familiarity of what happens.  Several years ago (we’ve been going each summer since 2000) we entered Anderson Auditorium, and it felt like it does each year: like going home.  The organ, the hickory pews, the stone floor, the open windows through which I could see the mountains.  But, there was something else: six microphones that I concluded were going to be used by singers.  This was new.  I was skeptical.  If it works, why change it?  I was right, during worship there were six singers who, on some of the songs, stood there and led the congregation.  And what I initially thought was going to take value away from my normal experience only added to it.  That year the preacher was John Bell, a Scottish Presbyterian from Iona, and those singers led the congregation in some of his wonderful music.

I like familiar, I like sure things.  But sometimes, maybe even often, God is to be found outside of my “box,” on the other side of the boat, and when I have the patience and courage, I often meet Him there.

This Sunday…A Sunday Three Years in the Making

Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.
Never forget that the devil fell by force of gravity.
He who has the faith has the fun.

G. K. Chesterton

In February of 2020 I had begun announcing that Sunday, April 12, the Sunday after Easter, was going to be a day “not to be missed.”  I announced that on April 12, 2020, I was going to do something I had never done before and that most (or all) in our church family had never seen a preacher do.  I was nervously excited.  I was planning.  And then, COVID.  So, it didn’t happen.  But this Sunday, April 16, 2023, barring a new pandemic or major HVAC failure, it will happen.  It has been three years in the making, and this Sunday is the day.

I’m not going to tell you exactly what will happen this Sunday, but I will say that often Christians can be a little too serious,  The story is told that one day Groucho Marx was getting off an elevator, and he met a pastor.  The pastor came up to him, introduced himself, shook his hand and told him “I want to thank you for all the joy you’ve put into the world.”  Groucho replied, “Thank you Reverend.  I want to thank you for all the joy you've taken out of it.”  This, while sometimes true, shouldn’t be the norm.

In the Bible we read:

“A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” (Prov. 17)

“There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh.” (Eccles. 3)

“A glad heart makes a cheerful face.” (Prov. 15)

“Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice…shout for joy!” (Ps. 32)

This list could go on and on, because in scripture we read again and again to rejoice, to praise, to laugh.  Our faith should not be a chore to be endured.

So this Sunday I will attempt in worship (at least in my sermon) to bring joy as we continue to celebrate the best news: Jesus is Risen.

In the history of the Church some early theologians (Augustine, Gregory of Nyssa, John Chrysostom) have contended that at Easter God played the ultimate joke on the Devil.  The Devil thought he had won, he thought he had done away with Jesus forever on the cross, but three days later God was the one to have the last laugh, the Risus paschalis, the Easter laugh.

This Sunday we will experience (again) the joy of Easter.  There should be smiles on our faces and a lightness to our hearts because God won.  God has defeated death and the grave, and we will rejoice!

Our Central Event

If I were to count the number of hymns in my lifetime repertoire that center on the cross as compared to resurrection hymns the cross wins hands-down.  When I Survey, At the Cross, The Old Rugged Cross, At Calvary, Blessed Redeemer, and In the Cross of Christ I Glory are just a few of the dozens of hymns that I can sing without the hymnal.  These “cross” hymns are in addition the number of hymns that I know about the death, the blood, the suffering, the “price he paid” and so on.  As a child and as an adult in Baptist Churches we sing these hymns all throughout the year, whatever the season.

            Resurrection hymns are more scarce.  I know the big ones: Christ the Lord is Risen Today, He Arose, He Lives, and The Day of Resurrection.  These are the big four from my childhood, and since then I have learned a few more, but not too many.  These are the hymns for Easter Sunday, and then as we journey on into springtime and approach Mother’s Day these Easter hymns are left behind.  I never remember singing Christ the Lord is Risen Today except for Easter Sunday.  I guess we think that it just wouldn’t fit.

            I think our hymnody and our practice of hymn singing say a lot about our belief, and if our singing states what is most important to us it would appear that the cross/suffering/death/“price he paid” theme is our defining event.

            And yet we worship each week on the first day of the week, not on Friday.  This arranging of our calendars is a bold statement that we are defined not by what happened on Friday, but what happened on Sunday.  Resurrection is the center of our belief, the center of the entire Jesus event, and is our only hope as Christians and humans.

            Every Sunday is a “mini-Easter” for the church.  We gather on the first day of the week 52 times per year to be reminded that he is risen and to celebrate that in Christ God has conquered death, sin, and the grave.  Christ is the first-fruit of the resurrection, and therefore we shall all experience new life too.  This is our reason for gathering each week, to tell the story in a new and different way.  But let us not be confused, we tell the gospel story, the good news of resurrection.

            The cross is a central theme in our faith.  Because of humankind’s sinfulness Jesus was killed on a cruel Roman cross.  This act of love and sacrifice defines who God is and who we are in God’s economy.  But to end at the cross is shortsighted and premature.  We are people of hope, of life, and of resurrection.  Because of this death is never the final word.  Because of resurrection the worst news is never the last news.  It may be the next-to-the-last-news, but the final word with God is always life.

            It may be Monday (or Friday, theologically speaking), but remember, Sunday is coming.

Chocolat in Lent

One of my favorite movies is Chocolat, and I especially enjoy watching it in the weeks leading up to Easter.  This 2000 movie is set in a small French village in the late 1950’s, and stars Juliette Binoche, Judy Dench, Alfred Molina and Johnny Depp.  I love it because it is a good movie, but more than its cinematic quality I love it because of its message.  In the movie Vianne is a skilled maker of chocolate who wanders throughout France and finds herself settling and setting up shop in a very traditional French village.  When she arrives in this village, there is great distrust and even hatred toward her and her daughter.  This animosity involves many factors, but it is pinned on the fact that she has the nerve to open a chocolate shop right in the middle of Lent.  For the citizens of this village, Lent is seen as a time of denial and repentance, and when one in their village does not conform to their practice they do everything they can to drive her away.  The leader of the town tells Vianne early in the movie that their ancestors drove those accursed Huguenots away in a matter of weeks and that she presents a far less challenge than they did.

            What makes the movie difficult is that Vianne, though an outsider, befriends hurting people and treats them with love that should have been coming from the Christian community.  She helps a lady who is abused by her husband, and welcomes a group of drifters while the village launches a campaign to “boycott immorality.”  The priest of the church is caught in the middle of all of this.  He knows that something is wrong with the way the Christians are acting, especially the mayor of the town who writes his sermons for him and coaches him all along the way.

            What challenges me most about the movie is precisely the thing that I need to hear the most: too often Christians are far more concerned with their rules, rituals, and pious appearances than they are with welcoming the stranger in their midst or offering healing to the hurting.  Chocolat makes this point abundantly clear, and I hope you’ll watch this movie.

            It is said that the Baptist preacher and sociologist Tony Campolo was once speaking to a group of conservatively pious Christians and told them that “every day 30,000 children die because of hunger and preventable diseases and you don’t give a damn.”  He quickly continued, “and what’s so bad is that you are more upset that I said damn than about the 30,000 children who are dying today.”

            May God bless us to major on the majors and minor on the minors.