Still More On Pentecost
Once I was talking with a colleague from another state and he mentioned how he spoke out against government policies on some issue or other. He felt he was being “prophetic.” Maybe he was. I didn’t hear the sermon. But often enough, I’m afraid, we don’t really know what being prophetic means. Is it being critical of the president or other leaders? Is it harping on our favorite hot-button issue?

I remember one time at seminary, we were assigned to write papers dealing with controversial questions. One student’s paper tried to make the case that Jesus wasn’t really totally without sin. Someone else wrote about “isms:” i.e., sexism and racism. As I recall, the professor wasn’t especially impressed with that paper. I think his comment was something like, “Everyone knows these are wrong. Where is the prophetic element in your argument?”

So, if pointing out the sins of the “isms” isn’t prophetic, what is? I’ve thought about this over the intervening years. My understanding of prophecy is that it somehow expresses the mind of God. A prophet is someone who is so well-tuned to God’s word and intentions, and so filled with God’s spirit, he or she is able to observe what is happening in the world and reflect on those events in light of his or her awareness of God. In other words, the prophet speaks as God would speak in that particular situation. The prophet lends his or her voice to God.

It may include predicting some future consequence or outcome. It may point to the fallacies or errors of conventional wisdom. It may “fill in the gaps” of a poorly understood reality.

Above all, I think prophecy draws people into a new way of thinking, a new understanding. It helps uncover truth that has been overlooked. I think it is a positive approach rather than a negative approach. In other words, I don’t think prophecy just says, “This is wrong.” I think it proclaims, “There is a deeper truth.”

This is difficult and rare. Knowing God and being receptive to the Spirit, however it manifests itself, are the basic requirements.

The church, as I understand its purpose, is to reflect prophetic elements in its life.

An Oasis
I recently watched the movie, The Pursuit of Happyness, starring Will Smith, based on the true story of a person named Chris Gardner. After his wife walks out, Gardner struggles to make a life for himself and his young son. At one point in the story, they seek refuge in a homeless shelter provided by Glide Memorial United Methodist Church in San Francisco.

In light of the upcoming observance of Pentecost (Acts 2), Glide Church has much to commend itself as an example of one way the Holy Spirit works and moves among people in our time. In a news release announcing the groundbreaking of two new facilities designed by Glide Church in partnership with others to help working families and homeless people by providing affordable housing and supportive services, Glide is described as “an oasis that has served the poor and disenfranchised for over 40 years. In addition to serving over one million free meals every year, Glide provides dozens of other programs and services, including AIDS testing, health care, women's programs, crisis intervention, literacy and computer training, jobs training and placement, and educational programs for children, youth and family.” The church website gives more background on the story of Glide Church and how its ministry has unfolded over the years. It’s really all very remarkable.

What is striking to me is the diversity of people who make up Glide Church and its ministries, and the strength exuding from that diversity. Just reading about their efforts, and looking at the photos on the website, I have a palpable sense of a pounding pulse of life prevailing at Glide – from the raucous Sunday morning gathering of worshipers to the daily frenzy of activity surrounding their multitude of ministries. Wouldn’t it be great if all churches conveyed that image!

Churches don’t have to be huge to be spirit-filled. They don’t have to replicate everything that Glide is doing. But, I find the example of a church like Glide to be heartening. People -- church people -- can be moved outside themselves, outside what they thought possible, and give expression to the abundant life offered in the Risen Christ in ways that profoundly affects the lives of those around them.

Pentecost truly is a time to reflect on the possibilities inherent in the presence of the wild, uncontrollable, unlimited, powerful and absolutely free Holy Spirit.

They Shall See Visions and Dream Dreams
The period following Easter Sunday is the season of Easter, and it leads to Pentecost Sunday, which is coming up this Sunday. Pentecost is celebrated each year fifty days following Easter.

The subsequent season of the church year, taking us all the way to Advent, is called Ordinary Time. Can you imagine a more boring name for most of the church year?

It seems ironic, really, to move from the glorious celebration of Easter and the season of reflecting on the resurrection power of the Christian faith, culminating in the commemoration of the mighty, rushing entrance of the Holy Spirit onto the scene, empowering Christians with the fire, the energy, that boosts us in our faithfulness, to something called Ordinary Time.

But maybe it would helpful to envision Ordinary Time in a different way. When I was thinking about Pentecost and the imagery of wind, I recalled something from a television program I saw several years ago. The show was Mad About You, and the male lead, Paul Reiser, played a New York filmmaker. Naturally, since it was a comedy, Paul and his wife, played by Helen Hunt, managed always to get into some silly predicament or relationship struggle.

In the episode I recalled, Paul was contracted by Yoko Ono to “film wind.” It was, of course, an impossible assignment, because wind is invisible. The effects of wind can be filmed. The impact of the power and randomness of wind can be filmed. But, wind, in and of itself, cannot be seen or captured in any visual medium.

Perhaps Ordinary Time really means a season of reflection upon what is ordinary for people whose lives are affected by the winds of the Spirit. Indeed, this is extraordinary by the world’s standards, because the Spirit transforms lives; it makes the impossible possible; it inspires faithfulness in ways never imagined without it; it conveys the unseen, yet real and life-giving, presence of God in our midst.

All of this may be unusual or even strange to those who have no time for or interest in the faith. But, for followers of Jesus Christ, who depend upon God for all things, and who embrace resurrection living, practicing spiritual disciplines such as worship, prayer, study, service and generous giving, these are part and parcel of “ordinary” life.

It?s Not The End, But Rather A Beginning
Pomp and Circumstance is a familiar melody, commonly used at graduations, perhaps because it lends itself to a slow, lingering procession of capped and gowned people about to commence to the next stage of their lives. One of the definitions of the verb “graduate” is “to pass by degrees; change gradually.” Wordplays on “pass” and “degrees” notwithstanding, a graduation celebrates a change in a person’s life. It is a passage from one level of maturity and wisdom to another.

The ceremony itself, however, is not the focus. The focus is what the ceremony represents.

Since it has been so long, I remember little about my own graduations. My high school graduation was 35 years ago, from Annandale High School in Virginia. The ceremony was held at the Wolf Trap Center for the Performing Arts, and my only memory is that shortly after we in the Class of 1972 graduated, Wolf Trap burned to the ground. So, when you watch a performance from Wolf Trap on PBS, you’re seeing the later version.

I remember even less about my college graduation from East Carolina University in 1976. I think it was Memorial Day weekend, but I’m not sure anymore. When it came to my graduation from Christian Theological Seminary, listed next to my name in the program was the Latin phrase in absentia, roughly translated, “He ain’t here.” By the time the ceremony rolled around I already had moved hundreds and hundreds of miles away to begin my pastoral ministry. My diploma arrived in the mail.

Memories diminish regarding ceremonies, and, of course, it was the people I encountered as I “passed by degrees” and “changed gradually” that really mattered, anyway. Their words, their examples, and their caring were what influenced me, much more than the information printed in the text books studied, or the inspirational commencement addresses. Just to name a few, I think of Don Armstrong, Jim Coyle, David Carter, Emory Underwood, Ralph Messick, Lester McAllister, T.J. Liggett, Vinton Bradshaw, and Davie Napier. For all of us, the list continues after graduation ceremonies are long over and the signatures fade from our diplomas.

As people of faith, the thing for us to remember is that we can be on someone else’s list. We can “pass it on,” just as others have done so for us. In fact, we are called to be present for graduations in the lives of those around us, sharing in the grace of “passing by degrees and changing gradually” with them.

Worship This Sunday At The Church Of Your Choice
A lot goes on in and around churches.

I read today about several hundred undocumented immigrant workers who fled into a Roman Catholic church when federal agents swept through the area arresting others in the same situation.

Last week a gunman took his own life inside a church after shooting several rounds into a police station in an attempt to draw officers out into the open as targets.

A church in our area hosted a makeshift "tent city" of homeless folks on church property as officials and advocates wrangled about how to address the matter of homelessness in the city.

In some churches, street people are welcomed for meals and shelter; in others, every possible approach is employed to keep them out.

There are churches that surround themselves with American flags, while others are intentional in their witness to a higher allegiance.

Messages condemning homosexuals, liberals and others identified as abominations or unrighteous thunder throughout some churches. The "N-word" is muttered in sanctuaries and at coffee hour even to this day.

The proclamation of the good news of the forgiveness of sins touches the hearts and minds of seekers in other places.

The scriptures are read aloud from the King James Version, the New International Version, the Good News Bible, the New Revised Standard Version, and others.

Some project on screens or walls the words of hymns and songs. Others rely on hymnals.

Depending on where you show up on a given Sunday, you may see worshipers waving their arms, shouting, "Amen," or sitting silently and perfectly still.

The sounds of children enliven some churches, while elsewhere the slightest peep is met with stern glares.

I even once saw a pigeon walk out of a church's elevator, along with several human passengers, and disappear into the crowd in the narthex. No feathers were ruffled in the process, which sometimes is unusual in churches.

Yes, a lot goes on in and around churches. Some of it is relevant, important and uplifting. Some of it is completely off the mark.

Yet, God's power is so great, God's ability to make all things new so surprising, and God's judgment that life overcomes death so firmly and thoroughly established in God's Creation, even the church, with its weaknesses, shortcomings, failures, and startling differences, has a role and place. Even in the church, God's love and presence can be experienced and shared.

God's people are called to be a blessing to others.

In our finer moments we live up to that.

You Can't Choose Your Relatives
A generation ago or so, the songwriting team Avery and Marsh had a number of pieces popular among some church folks including the one that goes, "I am the church; you are the church; we are the church together. All of God's children, all around the world, yes, we're the church together."

Well, there's another one, written in a facetious manner, that I recently stumbled across. The title is "I Can Be A Christian By Myself:"

I can be a Christian by myself.
Leave my dusty Bible on the shelf.
I'll sing a hymn and pray a bit.
God can do the rest of it.

My heart's the church, my head's the steeple.
Shut the door and I'm the people.
I can be a Christian by myself.

Of course, the testimony of scripture is that God's people are bound together in community. We aren't just "people." We're "a people." We are related to each other. For Christians, our bond is faith in Jesus as "the Christ, the Son of the Living God."

Our sense of community is not always evident to the world, or even to ourselves. We permit disagreements over doctrine, social issues, and politics to disrupt our relationships with one another. When others see things differently, we sometimes pick up our toys and go play with someone else. We look for the church where we're "comfortable."

It's a shame, really. In fact, it's a scandal.

In my own tradition, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), our forebears made it clear: "Christian Unity is Our Polar Star." They were convinced that the most effective witness to the gospel was a fellowship of believers united in Christ.

They emphasized the responsibility of all Christians to read, study, and interpret the scriptures. They promoted freedom of thought. They believed in the interplay between faith and reason.

Taken together with the pattern of the formation of Christian communities, or "churches," in the New Testament -- the "Body of Christ," as opposed to the Body Parts of Christ -- this means that diversity and differences are not to be feared or avoided. Rather, they are to be embraced.

It has something to do with what Paul terms "the gifts of the spirit." We all bring something to the conversation. We all bring something to the community. We share our understanding, our perspective, our experience, our wisdom, our insights, and we all benefit in the process.

To me, that makes for a strong church. Perhaps it isn't a "comfortable" church. But then, what happens in a comfortable church? People stop praying, they stop witnessing, they stop giving, they stop just about everything else, except maybe trying to keep the organization alive.

Ironically, it is then that death sneaks up on them...us...the church. And then we don't have a choice.

We have to be Christians "by myself."

"Here Am I, Send Me"
In a recent discussion among clergy colleagues we talked about some of our thoughts and feelings on our role as pastors. It was clear we brought a variety of perspectives. I also read just yesterday a book written by a clergyperson who mentioned that when he travels he never tells his airline seat mate that he is a minister.

I remember that when I went to seminary I encountered people with a wide range of expectations and assumptions about what it meant to be a minister. As I told my colleagues the other day, I am a minister because I was called, not because I ever had the intention or desire to become one. So, my initial foray into that world, showing up at seminary, brought about a lot of reflection on my part.

But I assured myself by the clear awareness I wasn’t the only unlikely candidate for ministry present on campus. Some folks there, students and otherwise, seemed to me completely nuts, and I truly couldn’t figure out why they were there.

One person (not nuts) I found intriguing was a fellow named Tim. He pulled some time down at the state farm for saying “No, thanks,” when Uncle Sam sent his Vietnam-era greetings. Sporting wild hair and a beard, Tim very obviously was intelligent, often wearing a shirt selected from his incarceration wardrobe. I paid attention when Tim spoke in class because he had a lot more on the ball than I, and I wanted to learn.

On the other end of the spectrum from my point of view was a guy whose approach to faith struck me as very simplistic. He (perhaps 3 out of 5 on the nuts scale) was very friendly towards me, and I don’t mean to sound critical. It’s just that he was hemispherically different from many of the more intellectual people there.

I remember one day as I was leaving the building, I ran into this guy and he excitedly told me something he discerned about prayer. He said, “If my grandmother was driving her car and saw that she was about to collide with another car in an intersection, and she prayed, ‘Thank you, God, for keeping that car from hitting me,’ there wouldn’t be an accident! She thanked God in advance, so God would stop the accident from happening!” I just stood there as he hustled away reveling in his epiphany, which, no doubt, found its way into his next sermon. I’m currently rethinking his rating, possibly bumping him up a nut.

A number of my peers were enrolled only because they were required to get a Masters of Divinity degree by their denominational credentialing authorities in order to remain as pastors. In spite of the education they were working to obtain, they knew the real truth about God and Jesus, and no one was going to tell them otherwise.

That truth seemed to have a lot to do with white middle-class Midwestern North American conservative morals and values. Some of these fellows (yes, the ones I knew from this segment of the seminary population all were men) questioned the salvation of the unblinking professors who insistently challenged them to mine deeper ideas.

Then, there was Vinton Bradshaw, one of my all-time favorite people, who was the Director of Field Education at the seminary. He also was a mentor to countless folks like me over his long career. Vinton told us that we should "think of ourselves as ministers," right from the get-go. I had difficulty doing that, because I didn't quite know what that meant, but he valiantly dragged me along, anyway.

With the world, culture and church changing so much over the last generation or two, it's difficult to know what it means to be a minister. Sometimes church folks, not wanting things to change, insist on the minister fitting a mold or image that means something to them. Ministers hold themselves to a variety of standards they feel are appropriate. These don't always overlap exactly.

Grace, patience, growth, and understanding are beneficial to all concerned in the relationship.

Handsome Boy
Twenty-three years ago today, Mary and I spent the day at the hospital in Elmira, New York, awaiting the birth of our second son. On our last visit to the obstetrician, he examined Mary and declared, "This baby is over ten pounds!" There were no signs of labor. So, we set a date, May 18, and if labor didn't begin, a C-section would bring Matt into the world, apparently against his wishes.

And, that's precisely what happened. He weighed in at ten pounds, three ounces.

Maybe his reluctance to be born was to be expected. As a "Taurus," according to horoscope definitions, he should be "home-loving and tend to have deep sentimental attachments to people, things, and places...Astrologers do not consider Taureans to be fond of change, making the typical Taurus both reliable and committed, as well as inflexible." (MSN) I guess Matt just liked it where he was, and was ready to wait us out!

Of course, we're glad he came along, despite his hesitations, and he continues to bring much joy and happiness to our lives. We just wish we all lived closer together.

Make It A Blockbuster Night!
There is a church near our house currently advertising a FREE Movie Night, complete with popcorn. The title of the movie isn't mentioned, but one assumes it would measure up to someone's standards as family-appropriate. Good for them, and I hope they have a splendid turn-out.

Churches constantly are trying to come up with ideas of programs or events that will get people to come inside their building. But what happens when the folks show up? No doubt there are friendly people there to greet them. They watch a movie. But, then what?

Perhaps there is the expectation that once you get the strangers inside your doors they, or at least some of them, will be intrigued enough to come back for worship. And then, before you know it, they will join the church!

Is a FREE Movie Night or Talent Show or some other activity attractive enough to someone who has a spiritual void or longing in their life that they will finally take the plunge and go inside a church building? Or are they looking for something else?

Maybe another way to phrase it is to ask, "Is the church truly looking to be available to someone on a spiritual journey, or are we trying to attract people who, like most of us, really are pretty casual about that kind of thing?" Maybe we just think we need to get some more people into the church so it will continue to exist. If that's the case, for what reason does the church need to continue existing?

There is a growing number of books on congregational transformation. It seems all the ones I read, and all the speakers I hear talk about transformation, come back to the reality that there is a significant spiritual drought inside the church. Evangelism would be better understood, embraced, and practiced as church folks themselves are growing spiritually through worship, prayer, study, service, faithful stewardship, and other spiritual disciplines.

Small groups studying, praying and serving together is viewed as the best approach for people to start, re-start or continue a spiritual journey. Newcomers are less intimidated by participating in a small group than they are by simply walking into a church as a stranger on Sunday morning.

As church folks continue to grow in their faith, they are more sensitive to the nudging of the spirit, and they find themselves drawn into mission, even in ways they never imagined. Outsiders, however they encounter the members of a faith community, can sense something compelling in the lives of those whose faith drives them to reach out to others. That attracts spiritual seekers, and leads to the making of disciples.

In our regional church, we're beginning to place an emphasis on "Disciples making Disciples." Of course, the implication is you have to be a disciple yourself in order to make new ones.

I'm not convinced that hiding behind special event programs fills the need, even though I enjoy a good movie, just like anyone else.

"Those Who Love Me, I Will Deliver"
Yesterday's news of the death of Jerry Falwell received a lot of attention, and no doubt many people are mourning his loss. I did not know the man. I also did not have a favorable impression of his words or actions.

It seemed to me he was devoted to division and separation. I understand the Christian faith to be about reconciliation and unity. His message seemed to be one of judgment and exclusion, while Jesus spoke of grace and forgiveness, which he termed "good news."

I never saw the validity or attraction of the approach taken by Falwell and others of a similar mindset. Unfortunately, it seems many people outside the church harbor a suspicion that most, if not all, of us in the church reflect Falwell's attitudes and prejudices. So many of them choose to stay away.

I once saw a bumper sticker that said, "Lord, protect me from your followers."

I remember when the Y2K mania was going around, Falwell was quoted as saying he was stockpiling supplies -- including ammunition -- just in case the world went crazy because computers weren't programmed to click over to the year 2000. He made swift and harsh judgments on 9/11, letting us know that God was upset with the United States because of our moral failures. Comments he made about Islam sparked protests and riots half a world away.

The world took note of the passing of this person.

I have known numerous folks whose deaths were not noted by the world. It shouldn't have been a surprise, though, because few took note of their lives. One in particular I recall was a man named Willie, who was a member of my congregation.

Willie was an African-American man, in his 70's, who died following a struggle with a number of health problems. He was a modest man of meager means, poorly educated, and not especially articulate.

He worked hard for a long time in service industry jobs around Washington, DC, loved his family, and when I knew him, always had a positive outlook, a smile, and took great pleasure and pride in being able to walk to church every Sunday. And he dressed up for church, because he was raised to respect the Lord.

Willie was in a Bible study I led, and he always was present, always had read the lesson, and was prepared for the discussion. He was shy and hesitant about speaking up in the group, but someone once told me that Willie appreciated the fact that I and others in the group sought his observations and opinions. "No one ever really cared what I thought before," he had remarked to her in a matter-of-fact way.

Those of us who knew him felt a deep sense of loss when Willie died. The parish nurse who sat with him in the hospice unit that night reported that Willie knew he was dying, and he prayed, and prayed, and prayed some more. He confessed his sins to God, he praised God, and asked for forgiveness and mercy and blessing. Willie asked the nurse to read Psalm 91 to him -- several times during the night, between prayers, as he was dying. So she did. He died hearing these words:

You who live in the shelter of the Most High,
who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress;
my God, in whom I trust.’
For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
and from the deadly pestilence;
he will cover you with his pinions,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.
You will not fear the terror of the night,
or the arrow that flies by day,
or the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
or the destruction that wastes at noonday.


A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only look with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.


Because you have made the Lord your refuge,
the Most High your dwelling-place,
no evil shall befall you,
no scourge come near your tent.


For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways.
On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the adder,
the young lion and the serpent you will trample under foot.


Those who love me, I will deliver;
I will protect those who know my name.
When they call to me, I will answer them;
I will be with them in trouble,
I will rescue them and Honor them.
With long life I will satisfy them,
and show them my salvation. (NRSV)