SPDR

Dear Family in Faith,

In the last decade, disaster relief and assistance has become more complicated—partly because our region has been afflicted frequently by disasters of all kinds and their consequences.  Hurricanes and tropical storms that not only afflict the gulf coast, but travel far inland; winter-weather outbreaks in far south Texas and Louisiana even that leave lasting consequences; the failure of infrastructure that provides power and needed resources; tornado outbreaks that are shifting not only from regular times of the year but also from the Oklahoma plains and more often including the Mississippi Delta region; flash flooding events with spring storms—or lasting flooding from storm systems that don’t move.  Storms have gained strength and power and come more often—disrupting the abilities of communities to cope and straining response systems. 

Presbyterian Disaster Assistance (PDA) has always been a mainstay in disaster relief and recovery, but resources have been stretched and stretched; sometimes we’re fighting multiple disasters happening at the same time, and in recent years COVID has prevented having familiar “boots on the ground” to help Presbyteries and congregations cope. 

One of the things our Synod has recognized is that we as Presbyterians in our region could do something TOGETHER as Presbyteries and the Synod to help the work of disaster preparation, response and recovery.  Particularly over the last 5 or 6 years, the Synod has been cultivating conversations between Presbytery leaders and PDA to develop the possibility for a full-time Disaster Assistance Coordinator who can work in our Synod, with and within our Presbyteries, to both prepare for disasters and lead immediate disaster assistance efforts.  And last month, the Synod of the Sun approved a new covenant agreement called a Synod Partnership for Disaster Relief—or SPDR.  At its meeting on February 12^th, the Presbytery of the Pines became one of the first Presbyteries in the Synod to adopt the Partnership agreement—which will include among other things a commitment of $5,000 to the partnership for the next 4 years.  As both one of our Presbytery’s commissioners to Synod and as a member of the Presbytery of the Pines, I was excited to be able to vote TWICE in favor of the partnership!  And I’m looking forward to what it will mean for our ministries in Presbyteries and congregations across the Synod! 

What we’re initiating is a pilot program—where PDA is providing resources and funding, our Synod is providing resources and funding, and our Presbyteries are providing funding and working together—to fund a disaster assistance coordinator based in our Synod, who can be the face of disaster assistance and recovery.  This staff person will raise awareness, help locate and direct support and resources, coordinate efforts, and engage us in being responsive to whatever needs arise.  We won’t be waiting for a national coordination team to come and set up shop when something happens—we’ll have somone accessible who can begin even before storm clouds gather.  We won’t just be responding to nation-wide appeals for assistance, we’ll be asked to help sister congregations and presbyteries respond in real time.  We will hear about disaster assistance more—and be given ways we can help.  We’ll be offered resources to help us PREPARE for disasters ahead of time—before crisis-response is a necessary reality. 

Beyond the work we expect to accomplish together in responding to disasters, the partnership involves the consent of all 11 Presbyteries and the Synod, AND PDA.  It’s hard enough to get 11 Presbyterians to agree on any one specific thing, let alone 11 Presbyteries and the Synod approving a document and a concept that can’t be ammended!  We’re cautiously optimistic this can become a way for more of us to work together to accomplish good things for the Kingdom of God in a way that can lead us into more ways of helping one another respond to God’s calling. 

And it strikes me that these are the kinds of building blocks for ministry that we’ve been witnessing in Jesus’s ministry and calling of people to respond to God’s claim on their lives.  Before Jesus was ever walking across the Sea in the midst of a storm, where he says to the Wind, “peace” and to the Sea, “be still” in front of the disciples struggling in the boats, before Simon Peter can ever ask to also walk on the Sea—Jesus has demonstrated healing diseases, casting out unclean spirits, and helping people in need, and teaching us what it means to LOVE one another.  Especially when there are times of need.  That is, before we ever get to monumental tasks of disaster-proportions—in starts with recognizing another’s need and choosing to respond in love. 

Jesus loves us.  Jesus’s love of us is supposed to move us to love others.  Loving others is the power that changes the world.  Hear that?  Jesus is calling—inviting you to look beyond what’s right in front of you, to the distant horizon.  “You will catch people,” Jesus says.  My grandma always said, “You catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar.”  It just makes sense that having been loved, we should love.  If we do, in every way we can, we will change the world.  ”See you” in Church.  

g—inviting you to look beyond what’s right in front of you, to the distant horizon.  “You will catch people,” Jesus says.  My grandma always said, “You catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar.”  It just makes sense that having been loved, we should love.  If we do, in every way we can, we will change the world.  ”See you” in Church.  

Dear Family in Faith,

For a few weeks, the picture in the upper right corner was in one of the windows in our chapel where Jesus’ baptism is depicted.  For the last couple of weeks, it’s been a picture of the window that depicts Jesus calling the first disciples.  We believe our call as Christians is related to both—that our “calling” as faithful believers and disciples is both a part of our baptismal vows, and part of Jesus’ invitation to us “to follow.”  And when I come to these stories now, I’m visually reminded of my opportunity to be physically present on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. 

The picture below was taken just off the shoreline of the Sea of Galilee.  I was standing maybe 150-200 yards off of the actual shoreline (that’s hidden).  Just past the line of shrub-like things, there’s a steep slope down to the water’s edge, and the boat you can see on the water is maybe another 200 yards or so away from the shore.  There are four people in the boat.  And what I didn’t know at the time

I snapped the photo is that two of the persons in the boat were fourth generation fishermen on the Sea of Galilee, and the other two persons were two individuals from our traveling group, who managed to talk their way onto the fishing trip by offering the fishermen money.  I remember this, because at a distance of nearly 400 yards (give or take) you could clearly hear their voices talking.  And because the fishermen were doing most of the talking in middle eastern accents, the people with me on the shore had no idea some of our group were on the boat, which meant we paid no mind to the conversation.  But even at that distance, it was like they had microphones! 

One of the mysteries of visiting the Sea of Galilee is still trying to imagine what the ancient shoreline was like when Jesus was there in the flesh.  One of the places that nearly all tourists visit is where the Sermon on the Mount is said to have taken place—on the top of a hill.  But when you visit there, you discover none of the acoustics “work.”  If Jesus is “on the mount” speaking “down” to the shore—as people tell you at the site—people down below can’t really hear past a few feet.  But if Jesus were “on the shore” speaking to people who were “on the hillside”—whoa!  It’s like the speaker is amplified! 

It’s one of those things that what it says in Matthew’s version of the story (Sermon on the Mount) can’t be true at the same time as what is said in Luke’s version (Sermon on the Plain).  It’s one of those things that if you ever get the chance to have the experience, Jesus speaking from a boat, a few feet out on the water, makes a lot more sense if he were teaching or preaching to a crowd of people.  Whereas Jesus on the mountain?  Matthew’s making more of a theological point in the way he is telling it.  That’s not the important part about this story, though. 

I don’t know what the voice of God actually sounds like to my ear.  I listen.  But for me, often, God’s way of speaking isn’t the voice out of a cloud, or even on the shoreline.  For me, the experience is a feeling—a kind of shudder, a warm sense of calm, a prickly feeling on the back of my head, moments in which I know I should be paying attention.  My father related to me a story this week about his having clearly heard the voice of God speaking to him one day.  Audible.  In his ear.  My dad’s own hearing of it.  He wasn’t on the Sea of Galilee when he heard it.  And there was no such voice when I was walking in Galilee, either.  We talk about listening for and answering God’s call to us—though I don’t imagine it’s always everyone’s experience of an actual, physical, audible voice. 

Last Sunday, I heard the call and claim of God’s voice as a colleague answered the vows of ordination and installation in an installation service conducted by the Presbytery.  The same kind of service that we will celebrate as we ordain and install newly elected officers for FPC in El Dorado.  The voice of God calling, and being answered, or responded to hopefully in faithfulness and with joy—through the “voice” of the congregation’s election of them.  Those vows, an echo of our baptismal vows, of professing our faith, of being welcomed into the household of God and given a purpose. 

In last Sunday’s gospel reading, Jesus offered the disciples a purpose: “from now on you will be catching people.”  And they left everything and followed.  In this week’s gospel reading, there are blessings and woes.  Enough “woe” to make us nervous and uncertain.  Enough blessing perhaps, to sound like our name.  Hear that?  …Jesus is callin g—inviting you to look beyond what’s right in front of you, to the distant horizon.  “Follow me,” says the voice.  …”See you” in Church.  

Got a Call?

 Dear Family in Faith,

“Got a Call?”  …One of my claims to fame that maybe not one other living soul knows about (because the people who would have known have all died) is that back in the late ‘90’s a couple of PCUSA staff persons asked me to write the script for a video being created by the Office of Theological Education.  I didn’t even get credit in the credits (so, even if you have an old VHS VCR hooked up to a television, and you borrowed the video from my office shelf, you could watch the video and still not know it was my script!).  In those days, the soundtrack was cheezy ‘80’s electronic music and the theme centered around an old “cordless” telephone ringing—calling PCUSA congregations to “action” in support of the Theological Education Fund—a holdover project from the reunion of the Presbyterian Church in 1984). 

The intent was to create a two-pronged promotion—help churches support a denomination-wide funding project for our Presbyterian seminaries; and invite youth and young adults to consider a “call to ministry.”  “Got a call?”  …get it?  [There might also be other reasons the video didn’t have wide acknowledgement!  …but I digress.] 

We wanted everyone to know that all of us have a “Call” to ministry.  For some it’s answered in the form of considering ministry of Word and Sacraments, or ministry of Ruling Elder or Deacon.  Or for congregations, the “call” to support theological education for ministers and church leaders for sustaining the Church’s ministry and witness far into the future.  “…Got a call?”  Yes.  Yes you do!  We believe that God is calling ALL of us to respond to God’s witness in Jesus Christ! 

Liturgically, the journey that begins with the birth of Jesus, is also encapsulated in the journey of the Magi who were called and followed a star to “see” Jesus; is also made manifest in Jesus’ call that is answered in his baptism and temptation; is continued in his calling followers and believers in Galilee, and even reaches out of the stories of scripture to “grab” all of us and drag us into stories of ministry, too.  What kind of ministry?  That’s what the next few Sundays in the lectionary help to “flesh out.”  We’ve been seeing who Jesus is.  Now we’re going to begin to hear about what Jesus is calling US to do. 

Wait!  Isn’t enough that we see who Jesus is?  …and believe in him?  Do we really have to be called to do something more?  What’s wrong with just stopping at the confession of faith, “Jesus is Lord”—my personal Lord and Savior? 

In short …nothing’s “wrong” with that.  It’s just that once we’re “in the room with Jesus” …things happen.  The definition of what it means to “follow Jesus” isn’t like Magnum P.I. or the F.B.I. following someone, recording their movements, and filing a report.  As “followers” of Jesus, we’re not like the Peanuts gang who “follow” Charlie Brown as he carries the poor little Christmas tree away from rehearsal after everyone thought he did a lousy job—to see what happens.  Rather, to “follow Jesus” means following enough to see Charlie Brown “give up” on decorating, but then the gang suddenly sees their place in “fixing up the little tree” until it becomes a spectacular tree. 

I believe that once we’ve found ourselves in the presence of Jesus Christ—things change in how we see and understand the world.  And we become people pressed to fix the stuff that we see is less than stellar.  That we begin to do the same kinds of things that we see Jesus do—even if it’s not exactly the same way.  We feed people, we participate in healing people, we want to help people having a bad day or an awful week.  In other words, Jesus invites us to respond to the world like he does.  And “watching him do it,” is supposed to be the means to our own introduction to, “doing it,” too! 

This Sunday, not only our scripture readings but our election of new church officers invite us to see and confirm God’s call to real people in the world (our people) who are being called by God to particular purposes in the work of Jesus and the work and leadership of our congregation.  In part, these are the people who see God’s work in the world, and will be calling our congregation to address it—much like Jesus who sees God’s work in the world and invites others to join him in ministry.  This shouldn’t be a moment where we say, “Oh good.  Here are the people who are called to do God’s work”—while we sit back and watch.  Rather, this is the moment where we entrust called leaders, to pay attention to where Jesus is calling us all together, to be working in ministry, for the sake of God’s kingdom.  These aren’t people we’re giving jobs to.  These are people we hope and pray will help point us to OUR “CALL” to respond to Jesus. 

Hear that?  …that’s your phone ringing !  YOU’VE got a call! 

Thank you, Jesus.  We’re all trying to follow.  “See you” in Church.  

 Dear Family in Faith,

Here’s my disclaimer: *following Jesus* is hard.  And, it doesn’t always work like we expect!  So, to help us remember our call to “follow Jesus”, in the last few years we’ve distributed Epiphany star-words in worship to celebrate Epiphany, Jesus’ baptism AND help shine light our calling.  […Do you know where your star-words are?] 

In past years, I’ve asked our DCE, Susan, to help curate a list of words, used in other churches, so we could have some tried and vetted words to work from.  But this year, I thought “if the point was offering illumination to “follow Jesus,” maybe starting with the words Jesus uses to tell followers and believers …is the way to go.  So, our star-words this year came straight from Luke’s gospel, chapters five and six—all words and phrases we’ve heard before …but bluntly pointed as only Jesus can.  So, maybe harder.  Last year, I got “rest.”  This year?  My star-words are—“Give to everyone who begs of you.” 

I confess, when I took my star-words from the baptismal font a few weeks ago in worship, I had peeked first.  I knew the content of the top card, before I took it—and it burdened me, even before I picked it up.  I didn’t like like the challenge; furthermore, I didn’t want it!  Like Jesus praying in the garden for any way for the cup to pass him, I really wanted to have reached into the stack and taken another card.  These star-words feel like my own cross …laid on my shoulders and leading me to my own Golgotha!  In my head, I immediately began throwing up my list of other “hard things” I would much-prefer spending my time with …praying for my enemies, being good to those who hate me, giving away possessions—that I also, already, was conveniently avoiding, careful to ensure that they can’t benefit from too much of my attention!  I’m not dissing Jesus’ words, or his desire we follow; it’s just …you know …they’re hard. 

“Give to everyone who begs of you.”  …Already bristling, I resisted even more.  I don’t even like people having to beg.  I wish the that people who have need—(whatever it is)—could just “ask for it,” and have it; as Jesus says, “ask, and you shall receive.”  I believe the works of Jesus change lives; they shouldn’t reinforce a system of neediness that requires ongoing maintenance.  Even if Jesus says, “the poor will always be with you,”  I think we’re smart enough to fix it!  As Desmond Tutu gets credited with saying, “Eventually you have to stop pulling people out of the river to go upstream and find out why they’re falling in.”  We can do this—create a world order that solves begging!  …But in the face of someone immediately in need of a warm place and a meal?  …awaiting what may never be, isn’t of Jesus. 

I have a friend who also tries to *follow Jesus*, formed by a summer camp experience where he ended up giving away the camp-store—because he just KNEW Jesus wanted every camper to have ice cream—even as they couldn’t afford it!  …I confess, I believe fervently that Jesus wants everyone to have what they need and to be relieved of their sufferings.  Yet, most of the time, despite my believing, I’m disciplined and often resigned to just saying “No.”  It’s difficult and messy wading through the testimonies people seem trained to offer, as if burdening those whom they ask, with a story, is what releases our grasp on the money being sought rather than any help we might give.  I nearly always practice the direct opposite of the star-word guide I’ve received as a burden.  You can call me, “Scrooge.”  I feel I’m saying, “Bah Humbug, Jesus!”  But such “no’s” save entanglements.  Plus, I know FPC assists with many needs. 

…but last Sunday, a man came in before worship; he claimed being a child at FPC in his youth; he’d returned to El Dorado to bury a last living relative, and his truck’s rear axle blew up, destroying the engine (…of course, right outside the cemetery on Champagnolle Road, just after the burial, and when he walked to get help, someone came along and took his suitcases he’d left unprotected in the pickup bed).  He claimed living in Bardstown, KY and his church, where he claimed he was on the Board of Deacons, had a fund to help travelers.  He didn’t want to ask, but he’d already spent two nights in the cold and couldn’t bear another.  …some money was to arrive “general delivery” for him on Monday …he planned to rent a truck at Enterprise to drive home (even if they had to bring one from Magnolia if one wasn’t available here), but not before repaying my generosity.  I never expected to see him again …but shortly after driving him to a motel, paying for his room, and making sure he had food, he reportedly and inexplicably fled.  I confess, I’m only a little embarrassed.  I do, almost always, say, “No;” but the truth is, I also can’t account for what happened to the underwear and nightgown I gave to a woman who’d called, saying she’d lost all her clothes and was having hip surgery and needed them (…who asks for underwear they don’t really need?).  …*Following Jesus* isn’t for the faint of heart. 

…My star-words hang right near my desk still, these days, reminding me of Jesus’ invitation.  I don’t think I’m effective doing them; but I admit, my star-words no longer feel like a cross.  I’ll try getting them right.  Somedays, I’m sure, its got to work out.  Somedays, the star-words might even help; though most often, they’ll still be a challenge.  Thank you, Jesus.  I’m trying to follow.  

 Dear Family in Faith,

This Sunday’s gospel reading begins with this:

“Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country.”  (Luke 4: 14)

Luke doesn’t share the contents of that report; but it will become clearer that at least part of that report could have included healings, helpings, and feedings for people in Capernaum—which he will not do for the people of Nazareth.  But only three chapters later, there are plenty of these “reports,” and Luke summarizes Jesus’ ministry for John the Baptist:

“Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them.”  (Luke 7:22)

Everywhere that Jesus is, these things are true.  This is our faith—what we believe about God’s work in the world. 

Last week, I became distressed hearing the president of ACHI (the Arkansas Center for Health Improvement) report the ACHI’s board was recommending, “persons 65 and older, families with unvaccinated children, and anyone with cancer, diabetes, lung disease, or heart disease should ‘shelter in place;’ and that (at the time) 175 Arkansass had died of COVID infections in the first ten days of the this new year. 

I let the recommendations sink in for a moment.  …I’m pretty certain with one or two exceptions, those categories cover nearly everyone coming to worship in-person these days, including staff, including myself.  With all the news reports of the Omicron variant circulating so easily among vaccinated and unvaccinated populations, it’s been easier to lose sight of the fact that people are still dying!  And I’ve found myself struggling again with the idea that someone among our fellowship might die, having been exposed to COVID at Church. 

It bothers me even more, that our sense of what needs to “go on” or “continue” or “be normal again” continues to put our heartfelt desires at the expense of those who are dying as a result.  When Governor Hutchinson meant to dismiss ACHI’s recommendations by responding that Arkansans, “…can’t stop living,” I couldn’t help but think that since the pandemic began, nearly a million Americans, including nearly ten-thousand Arkansans have done just that—stopped living—as a result of COVID-19 

The pandemic has surely cast a pall over nearly everything in our lives.  It’s not enough that the disease is literally killing us—so many of us; the havoc that’s been wreaked in our day-to-day lives adds up, too.  It’s easy to blame COVID for what we see as “problems” in our way of life now—including attending Church or having familiar in-person Church activities.  The recent spike in cases-counts, positivity rates, and deaths, forced a new round of cancellations of activities and events—including some churches in town choosing not to have in-person worship, and our Presbytery and Synod transitioning planned, in-person meetings we had been anticipating for months, because both daily life and travel are precariously and unpredictably affected. 

This “death” is seemingly all around us.  Yet WE believe, everywhere Jesus is: The blind see.  The lame walk.  The lepers are healed.  The dead are raised. 

Over and over, the stories of our faith remind us—demand of us to have faith—that God somehow intervenes, that death isn’t the last word, that we need not be afraid.  Yes, we all die; we do not simply live forever—untransformed.  Neither we as human beings, nor the collective “we” of our fellowships and institutions.  As long as we’re living, we’re also dying.  But we believe Jesus is among us, transforming us …but that’s not a “get out of death, free” card.  It’s an invitation to be transformed.  This isn’t to suggest in any way that COVID is God’s agent to get us to be more faithful, or die.  No.  This is to say we believe in a God of resurrections.  That even though we die, we will live again.  Our chief end isn’t simply to survive, or exist; but to become what God would have us become.  …Like Jesus, who is baptized, tempted, then starts ministering.  Like fishers dropping their nets to follow Jesus.  Like Jesus, who touches the sick and the dead because he knows death isn’t binding  Like a congregation, continuing to do ministry, like Jesus, come what may, to infinity and beyond.  Death comes for us all; but so does resurrection. 

Maybe it’s easier to think that everything is dying, that we have lost, that the good news has escaped us.  …But we believe God transform s us; indeed, the dead are raised.  None of us knows what tomorrow brings.  Rather, we believe in the midst of everything going on around us, though: the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the dead are raised.  Blessed be!  Blessed be!  

 Dear Family in Faith,

Last Sunday we celebrated the Baptism of the Lord.  The annual observance, which follows Epiphany, has always been special to me in adulthood, because it’s a wonderful occasion to celebrate the reaffirmation of our baptismal vows.  Presbyterians practice infant baptism—which means that many of us were baptized as infants, and may not remember our baptisms.  So, reaffirming our baptismal promises allows us to give full voice to those vows.  When infants or children are baptized, the parents and congregation give voice to the baptismal promises—which is part of why confirmation becomes important—because that’s when we confirm the promises once made on our behalf. 

Sometimes, baptism can seem like a personal, private moment.  In fact, many congregations practice the sacrament of baptism in small groups, for just the family, where children are not bothersome to a service of worship, and the baptism gets recorded but not many people “see it” as it happens.  I once went to church where a baptism was announced before worship, as if it were being celebrated, but where no one saw the family, the child, or heard the vows. 

But baptism is not some rite of passage. 

Matthew Skinner writes about Luke’s story of Jesus’ baptism that,

“…we should see Jesus’ baptism as his declaration of a revolutionary commitment to God’s plan and to the well-being of God’s people.  It signals the willingness to be a part—the crucial part—of the new order God has pledged to enact and God begins to enact in Jesus’ public ministry.” 

I would venture to guess that when you hear the word, “baptism,” you’re not thinking or imagining an act of “revolution.” 

The water of baptism is placed upon us as a sign of God’s “revolutionary commitment” to the well-being of God’s people.  And I like to remind people that this is a sign and reminder to us all that we belong to God.  And God fitting us and the world for righteousness.  And when we’re responding in the affirmative to those promises, either in confirming or reaffirming the baptismal vows or professing them on the part of infants and children—we’re committing ourselves to God’s revolutionary plan that means to turn the world upside down and inside out! 

We practice infant baptism because we know that life is uncertain.  In the first century, infant mortality rates were staggeringly high; and baptism was viewed as a requirement for salvation.  Frankly, church leaders didn’t have a good answer for grieving parents, so baptism was moved from the end of life to the very beginning of life.  Baptism is the sign or “mark” that we belong to God—something that can’t be taken away from us no matter what trouble we might find, whether by our own cause, or not.  In the story of the Prodigal, for example, despite dissolute living, the younger son finds his way home, again.  When we baptize our children, we have God’s assurance of protection for them. 

Somehow, saying those words, out loud, together—makes them a kind of “performative language.”  By them, we make our own declaration of a revolutionary commitment to God’s plans and to the well-being of  God’s people.  It means we should hear our names as people with whom God is well-pleased!  It’s why we should understand our lives having been converted to God’s revolutionary causes.  It’s why we should see and recognize one another among the saints of God, working at transformation marked by forgiven sins and the reality of sharing together with God’s own self through the Holy Spirit.  That, we too, have become a part of the human flourishing and divine compassion the Bible sets forth and promises, and that we are the evidence that God means business! 

In ancient Israelite religious practice, baptism—or ritual cleansing—marked a turning point from an old life to a new one.  Like “new year’s resolutions,” it often accompanied one’s intention to “change” habits, practices, traditions, and served notice to others of a new identity.  In this week’s gospel lesson, Jesus transforms the vessels for “ritual purification” for a wedding feast into the vessels for wine for the wedding party!  Whether they knew it or not, the guests receiving the “best wine” are drinking to a new identity inspired by God and delivered by the Holy Spirit!  A radical transformation for the guests and the staff, and those who follow Jesus! 

REMEMBER: We are people called to be LIGHT and LIFE and LOVE—testifying to hope born anew and that joy is coming.  However forgetful we become, God remembers.  However weary we are, God does not grow tired.  However things seem to be falling apart around us, God is still creating.  The whole point of Jesus being born and doing the things he does, can be summed up in, “love one another.”  God’s revolutionary commitment is the well-being of God’s people.  Our c ommitment in baptism should be the same.  

Light

 Dear Family in Faith,

This week’s picture in the upper right-hand corner comes to us from First Presbyterian Church, Boise, Idaho.  The sanctuary there is adorned mostly with stained glass windows that are red and blue hues, except for one, that happens to provide the “light” to illumine the manger …when the sun is in the right place, at the right time—and only for a few fleeting moments.  My friend Andrew serves as pastor there—and wrote this week about his returning to work after the Christmas and New Year’s holidays: 

There are many ways I’m feeling the bleakness. Directly or through shared pain…. Uncaring neighborhoods. Raging pandemic. All too many deaths of friends and congregation members and family. Challenging diagnosis. Lack of resolve to remove toxic patterns. The cold wet mud sucking reality that this is a hard world. 

This image is holding my center however. Shared to me by a friend and coworker, this happened late afternoon today. The manger is still on our chancel for Christmastide before it gets replaced by the baptismal font for the Baptism of Jesus Sunday this weekend. And it’s being bathed in the yellow glow of one of our stained glass windows. But it’s not just any window. All the windows on that side are red and blue.. except one. One bright window of whites and yellows on a wall of deep reds and blues. That window? It’s the “I am the Resurrection” window. That’s right …like the star in the sky for the magi of old that light is shining into the bleakness to remind me that hope is born anew, and joy comes with the morning. 

Like Andrew, I returned to work this week too.  In addition to knowing about surgeries and medical treatments, family setbacks, and stressful situations, I was caught up by at least a dozen Facebook posts by church friends across the country, announcing to the world that they had tested positive for COVID despite having been vaccinated and boosted; all to add to a growing collection of heart-wrenching stories of people I know suffering from post-COVID complications and conditions.  At a board meeting, the board President reminded us that he, too, had contracted COVID, in spite of two vaccines, the booster, wearing a mask in public, and social distancing—and was clueless about where or how he became infected. There are COVID cases among our Church members, again, over the holidays.  …Frankly, “In the Bleak Midwinter” seems to more appropriately describe these daily realities. 

I know that all of us are tired of hearing the news about the pandemic—just as we’ve arrived at the height of it!  Yet despite all the reasons some people offer for us to be or feel afraid, I’m stubbornly trying to cling to the hope of the good news that the angels announced to the Shepherds at Jesus’ birth—“do not be afraid!”  Jesus hasn’t stopped being the LIGHT the World!  This is STILL God’s GOOD creation.  Even so, I know that what we all wanted for Christmas was an end to the pandemic wreaking havoc on our daily lives and our ability to move freely in others’ company indoors and outdoors, on planes or trains, in homes and especially at Church!  I know all of us are tired and exhausted and desperately want to move on. 

In such bleakness, it’s easy to turn to the fatalism of, “whatever will be, will be”—or, “if I get it, I get it”—or, worse, “if I get it, it must be God’s will” …simply because it offers a kind of prophetic certainty that we are victims of circumstances we can’t control.  Instead of giving in, or giving up—our faith insists that God loves each of us and calls all of us to life, in abundance.  This last weekend while I was away, I heard a sermon in which a Catholic Priest encouraged his congregation to resist the “covid-isms” we’ve come to live with, like mask and vaccine mandates, because they are Satan’s tools meant only to ruin believers’ souls.  He refused to acknowledge that the Christian gospels testify to Jesus teaching over and over to defend the weak, help the suffering, and our serving others’ needs before our own—including healing the sick, feeding the hungry, comforting the afeared, AND calling us to “follow him.” 

I’ve said this before.  The hardest parts of COVID …may be yet to come.  I still believe following Jesus includes defending, helping, and serving others—like Jesus does; and doing what we can to continue to try and stop the spread of this disease!  It’s exhausting work …calling for more sacrifice, demanding more of our attention, forcing us into behaviors we want to resist yet insists instead that we focus on our neighbors’ wholeness and needs rather than our own.  Because that’s what Jesus did …and this is clearly who Jesus is when he declares that LOVE is laying down our lives for our friends. 

We should not be afraid.  We walk in faith knowing that the one who has come—is coming again; so that we can defy anyone or anything that brings oppression, pain, death, or destruction.  This disease is insidious; we don’t want it to control our ability to love one another.  If you can, get a vaccine—both doses; and a booster dose.  Wear a well-fitting, high-quality mask indoors.  Practice physical distancing and good hygiene.  Be kind to others—in bleakness, all of us need that. 

REMEMBER: We are people called to be LIGHT and LIFE and LOVE; following a star, testifying to hope born anew and that joy is coming.  However forgetful we become, God remembers.  However weary we are, God does not grow tired. However things seem to be falling apart around us, God is still creating.  Our stories aren’t over.  Christmas isn’t just a birthday party; Jesus’ whole point, might be as simple as “love one another.”  In the bleak midwinter, something so simple has never been more important!  

The Heart of Christmas

Dear Family in Faith,

NOW—right now—is the heart of Christmas.  …I know (I know …I K.N.O.W.) it doesn’t feel like it.  Everyone’s moved on.  “Happy New Year” is the new seasonal greeting.  We’ve grown weary of Bethlehem and almost everyone has moved on.  The Christmas section of Hobby Lobby is only half-the-size it had been, a few weeks ago.  The egg nog’s all gone. 

But these days are, in fact, at the HEART of Christmas.  And let mine be the voice that encourages you to spend a little extra time at the stable this year, savoring the mystery of the incarnation.  To sit, wide-eyed over the chorus of the angels, the visit of the shepherds, and the twinkling stars overhead—pulling us toward days of quiet rest. 

My friend, David Gambrell, who works in the Office of Theology and Worship at PC(USA) headquarters, writes of Christmas words I’ve shared in worship:

The twelve days between the Nativity of the Lord (December 25) and the Epiphany of the Lord (January 6) lead us on an expansive journey, from something so intimate and particular—an infant in a manger, revealed to local shepherds—to something so grand and universal—the hope of all the earth, revealed to travelers from a distant land. 

So, keep out one of your nativity scenes.  Light a candle beside it.  Be wide-eyed in the wonder of it all.  Be reminded that the infant we adore is the revelation larger than the universe.  And that the God we worship, is the one who holds everything together, as fragile as our world seems.  And that we have flesh, means that we share some part of Christ in each of us, that is the image of God, and ultimately that we are so beloved! 

Remember, too, that Bethlehem is a compound Hebrew word—pronounced “bait leck-um.”  “Bait,” the Hebrew word for house; and “leck-um,” the Hebrew word for bread.  Bethlehem literally means “house of bread.”  And we already know that Jesus is the “bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”  So, Christmas is a kind of stop-over on the way.  A chance to rest and remember, a time to share and take stock of our lives, a place to bread bread together and be nourished by the one who comes as God in the flesh to journey with us. 

Be like Mary.  Ponder all these things in your heart.  Give thanks for what God has shared.  Remember that in response the Magi come bearing gifts.  This is also a season in which giving transforms lives. 

Then, lace up your sandals and take up your shepherd’s staff.  The long journey of discipleship awaits just over the horizon.  We’ll soon be reminded that even our path of discipleship leads from isolation to community, from brokenness to healing, from captivity to freedom, from sin to salvation, and from death to life!  Jesus will offer miracles, teach us that there are better ways of living and loving one another than we often express, call us as disciples to not only “fish for people,” but to take up a faith that focuses on helping and healing and feeding and teaching. 

Jesus is so much more than a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger!  He’s the one who will lead us out of destruction and death to give us life—again and again.  God’s gift, God’s gife—Emmanuel!  Emmanuel!  So that we are never walking along; never left to our own devices; and always capable of changing the world. 

I don’t know about you, but I think the whole world is wondering, again, how we will manage to “go on.”  This collective COVID nightmare for all of us, seems to have left the whole world anxious and eager, but suffering with lack and lethargy.  How do we get going again?  Who will have the answers?  And hopefully, it won’t mean we have to do much!  But I’m afraid that just like Christmas, pain and anguish and effort all come with the light, the love, and the joy.  And like the road leading out of Bethlehem was filled with danger and unknown—so ours will be, as well.  Except our joy has been made complete in the news of the one who is given to us, who walks with us, who helps us and declares for us, “we should not be afraid.” 

The world tries to tell us not to.  But pause.  Breath deeply.  Light a Christmas candle.  Join your heart and mind to others around you—even if only in your heart because they live far away.  Draw strength from the bread of God enfleshed. 

Yours may, or may not, include an experience of wet-smelling used hay and a well-worn feed trough.  But it might need to be handing out warm blankets on a wet winter’s night or a warm casserole through a car door, or a phone call, or showing up in the middle of the night at a hospital, or stopping to help someone change a flat tire, or rescuing a donkey-on-the-loose because beautiful and terrible things happen, and EMMANUEL, too.  You’re in the heart of Christmas.  Hold on!  And …carry it with you, like an ember for a fire, ready to light when needed.  I’m carrying one, too.  

We should Begin Spending More of Our Time Rescuing People

My family has had too much “togetherness.” 

Our eldest child is 15; his younger brother just turned 14 this week; their younger sister is going to be 11 in a few months.  Our home was far more livable for all of us when one of us went to work, three of us went to school, and the other of us could work from home and manage the extracurriculars.  There’s been no school for months; kids are always present; there are few opportunities for having “one’s own space.”  And while it seems reasonable that of the roughly 10 inside spaces and only 5 of us that we could each carve out a niche …um, not so well. 

We were all used to more time, more space, and different activities.  And we’re on each other’s every last nerve.  I could be like this BC (before COVID-19); but now, it’s 24-7.  And while most everyone else around the country has “worked from home,” I’ve had to get away from home in order to work effectively—which has added a whole different kind of stress.  Still, we’re surviving.  But not everyone is. 

If my household is any indication, the rocky summer we are already expecting is probably going to be a lot rockier because of things we’re not talking about as much.  Behind our “shelter in place” facades are real dangers of stress, domestic violence, domestic abuse, depression, anxiety, all mixed up in a cocktail with fear. 

Surely, we know the effects of “shelter in place”—while intended to keep us safe from the virus—have unintended deadly consequences.  We can’t just keep sheltering in place and be unscathed!  And I’m defeated, being told over and over and over that I can’t DO the things I want to.  But it’s not what you think. 

I believe the Church needs to stop saying, “No,” and must begin the harder work of rescuing people. 

I’ve been trying to find a way to say this, but then, as usual, someone else I know says it much better.  Invitingly even.  Here’s what my friend Andrew, who lives and serves a church in Boise, Idaho, shared this week: 

Hey FPC'ers: if you missed it, last night the Session voted to keep the building closed through June (and maybe beyond).

Meanwhile, only the building is closed.

We will begin working on more small group outdoor gatherings. We will work on this for a "mobile worship" experience as well, getting people who are craving in-person gathering together to experiencing worship in small groups with safe distancing and outdoors. 

The Session understands that for some of us quarantine is having a growing detrimental impact socially, emotionally, and physically. There is growing evidence of the consequences of what we are doing to "stay safe".  We are balancing that with what is safe and healthy to do in light of the still progressing pandemic of COVID-19.  We will call on all our imagination—and your imagination—to walk this balancing act together.  There are safer and healthier ways to gather than indoors, stationary, as a large group.  Let's find those ways and use them—we can be safe, and connected—we can see to our emotional and mental health and prevent undue exposure to coronavirus, and this will allow that we stay the course in recognizing that large-scale corporate worship is not safe at this time. 

I live in a different part of the country where we’ve never had a “shelter-in-place” order.  I believe my scientist friends.  But if they’re right, we’re going to reap the whirlwind.  There’s no join in their being right about the virus’ potential devastation.  Though I not-so-secretly want them to be right—but without the consequences.  But while they would have me lie comfortable on my couch for the rest of the year and part of the next, order my groceries in, and spend less money on gasoline than fish food in that time—that just ain’t gonna work.  At all.  Too many people will still die, just not as many from the virus. 

No.  Now is the time to seize opportunities.  Stop telling me what I can't do, and help me to do what we can to rescue people!  We have to find ways to rescue one another, to say “yes” to something, to “be the Church for real,” not just be “ideal.” 

The congregation I serve hasn’t been “closed” either.  But it’s like we’ve gone away on vacation.  Or worse, I fear we’re seen as “hiding in fear” like Jesus’ disciples after the crucifixion.  In fact, because we’re people of privilege, many of could really spend months at home without a paycheck and not really suffer.  Well, except we suffer from all the things money can’t buy (depression, anxiety, diseases, stress). 

But it’s festering.  Death because of COVID-19.  Only, it’s not always the virus.  And the symptoms aren’t just the shortness of breath, fever, feeling bad, not tasting, and the rest of the CDC hit list. 

I need to be reminded, “we can’t do this forever.”  Lets talk about what real, doable, healthy options look like. 

I need to be rescued (mostly from my defeatist thinking).  A bunch of other folks do, too. 

We need to change the conversation.  Seriously.  Before it’s too late. 

We need to begin to spend more time in rescue operations.  Being the church, together again—even if “together” is a moving target.