Rejection of the Religious

When talking to others on the subject of faith and belief, one of my favorite cliche's that I hear is "I'm spiritual but not religious."

What that usually means is the person has rejected "organized religion" in favor of the mystical, the obscure, or a syncretism of one's own creation. Sociologically speaking, there really is no distinction. Spirituality or religion is the same thing. We acknowledge something beyond the material. We reach outward to embrace the divine.

In a fascinating article written around Christmas of 2005, Umberto Eco speaks to the universality of religion.

"Human beings are religious animals. It is psychologically very hard to go through life without the justification, and the hope, provided by religion."

and later...

"It is the role of religion to provide that justification. Religions are systems of belief that enable human beings to justify their existence and which reconcile us to death."

Eco was raised Roman Catholic but has rejected the church. Still he accepts the superiority of the Christian religion. He states, "I have a profound respect for the Christian traditions." Moreover, he specifically calls the religious celebration of Christmas, "a clear and coherent absurdity."

This I would argue is the conservative position. Christianity has proven itself as a religion. It is tried and true compared to the occult and more novel beliefs. As a religion, it has a track record. It's influence in the development of Western Civilization has been on whole a positive for all humanity.

However, the Western Church is dying. Eco notes,

We in Europe have faced a fading of organised religion in recent years. Faith in the Christian churches has been declining.

The ideologies such as communism that promised to supplant religion have failed in spectacular and very public fashion. So we're all still looking for something that will reconcile each of us to the inevitability of our own death.

G K Chesterton is often credited with observing: "When a man ceases to believe in God, he doesn't believe in nothing. He believes in anything." Whoever said it - he was right. We are supposed to live in a sceptical age. In fact, we live in an age of outrageous credulity.

The "death of God", or at least the dying of the Christian God, has been accompanied by the birth of a plethora of new idols. They have multiplied like bacteria on the corpse of the Christian Church -- from strange pagan cults and sects to the silly, sub-Christian superstitions of The Da Vinci Code.

The conservative position is ultimately weak because the superiority of the Christian religion is no guarantee of it's viability. The appeal made by Eco treats Christianity as one choice among many -- granted a superior choice but still merely a choice. That argument already concedes so much. The God we Christians worship is more than a choice. He is the Lord of lords, King of kings. This God has a legitimate claim over all of our lives. If we fail to praise this God, the very rocks will cry out.

Instead, I would argue that Christianity is not a religion. This is not a new thought. Karl Barth takes this position. Religion is about our reaching upward to God. On the other hand, Christianity is about God reaching downward to us. Religion is a human work. Christianity is a divine grace.

Newsletter: The Process of Discernment

There is no doubt that the First Presbyterian Church of Vernon, Texas is blessed. We, in fact, have always been blessed. Lately, however, our blessings have been more apparent to us. There is an excitement in the air, and we have seen new people, new resources, and new opportunities in our midst. Our congregation could have taken these blessings for granted, but instead the leadership of our church decided that we needed to be good stewards of what God has given. The simple truth is God has blessed us to be blessing.

In January 2006, the congregation commissioned a team to lead our congregation in discernment. Much of the work of this team so far has been behind the scenes. However, starting this fall, the congregation as a whole will be engaged in the hard work of discernment. “Discernment,” I am told, comes from the Latin word, discernere, to separate. Like the farmer who separates the wheat from the chaff, we are called to separate God’s vision from all the competing choices.

God’s vision is not ultimately based on marketing research or the latest fads about church growth. Instead, we believe that God’s vision is a gift of grace only recognized when we allow God to touch, shape, and mold our lives. As a result, Scripture, worship, and prayer must remain at the forefront of our discernment process. The Spirit of Christ will use these means to keep us connected to God.

At the same time, we recognize that congregations come in all shapes and sizes. There is not one way to be the church. A violin sounds different from a saxophone or a tuba. God’s grace will manifest itself in different ways in different congregations. The song that we sing will depend on our context. Already, we are looking at the character and needs of Wilbarger County, and the history, culture, talents and shortcomings of our own congregation. The music that God calls from us will be heard in this place and in this time.

Discernment must include an honest appraisal of ourselves and our surroundings along with an openness to God’s grace.

The Humility of Horror

I was reading the New York Times Sunday Book Review this morning. Terrence Rafferty had a review of a number of ghost stories entitled, The Thinking Reader's Guide to Fear. Either my attention span is really short today, or the article was a bore. I couldn't finish it. Perhaps it was the condescending attitude toward the topic.

Nonetheless, there was a quote that intrigued me. After making pains to tell us that respectable people -- "literate, educated, professional-types" -- find horror fiction "repulsive," the author writes...

...the feeling of being at least a little out of control is basic to the experience of horror. What's terrifying in a story by Stephen King or Peter Straub is, finally, nothing less than the sensation of pure helplessness, of confronting something that cannot be conquered — or regulated, or even understood — by reason alone.

At heart, I think that this is correct. I also think that is the reason why the author believes that "literate, educated, professional-types" don't like horror literature. Horror implies a lack of control. Horror suggests that there is more in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Our attempts of controlling the universe, escaping suffering, or cheating death are folly. This would explain why the conservative hero, Russell Kirk, wrote ghost stories. Human beings are limited in knowledge and capacity. Horror teaches humility.

I know that several Christians get uncomfortable with stories of witches, vampires, and ghosts. Many times that concern is warranted. Many of these stories clearly promote a moral universe foreign to the one taught in Scripture. However, the humility that is taught by good horror literature might be valuable.

Newsletter: We Gather Together

The word Presbyterian comes from the Greek word, presbuteros, which means elder. This word is used seventy-two times in the New Testament. The early church maintained a continuity with the Old Testament using elders in leadership positions. Although we accept that all are called by Christ into ministry. We are also called to particular ministries. Some of us are called to the leadership of the church--to be elders. As Presbyterians, we get our name from the way we organize our life together.

In the Presbyterian Church, there are two classes of elders--Ministers of Word and Sacrament and ruling elders. In our church, the pastor is not the C.E.O. Christ always remains head of the Church, but the pastor and current elders serve together on a session providing leadership and guidance for the church in obedience to Christ.

A long time ago, Presbyterian churches realized that they could accomplish more for God together than apart. The presbytery was the answer to the common call of ministry over a specific geographic area. Ministers and congregations form a presbytery, and it exists to provide accountability for ministers and churches, to prepare people to the ministry of Word and Sacrament, and to support mission. On June 9-10, our congregation will be hosting Palo Duro Presbytery. Elders and pastors from fifty-five churches will soon be on our doorstep. Analogous to the session, they gather to provide leadership and guidance for all of Palo Duro Presbytery.

Every presbytery meeting has the feeling of a family reunion. We come together and see people that we haven’t seen in a long time. There will be hugs, kisses and perhaps, a few tears. We will watch our manners and encourage others to be on their best behavior. We will share stories of joy and sorrow. We will tell the same old worn out jokes. At times, presbytery will be a pleasure, and at others it will be a burden. Still, we will gather as sisters and brothers of Christ--a luxury many take for granted. Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his book, Life Together, reminds us that many Christians such as the sick, those persecuted, or scattered are unable to afford that luxury. He writes, “It is by the grace of God that a congregation is permitted to gather visibly in this world to share God’s Word and sacrament.” On June 9-10, let us give thanks to God that we can gather together.

Concession to the Complicated?

The April 2006 edition of First Things has an excellent article about Intelligent Design entitled, “Darwin in Dover, PA.” The article got me thinking about the whole question of evolution.

Frankly, I have never been very concerned with evolution and its supposed challenge to God. If I was interested in breeding cattle, I might be very interested in what genetic adaptations make for healthier and stronger animals. In contrast, I am more interested in God’s relationship with creation and our relationships with each other. As a result, Genesis speaks more to me than biology textbooks.

People must realize that there are several questions and categories of questions surrounding the issue of evolution. First, there is the obvious question of science. How well does evolution explain past evidence and predict future natural behavior? Beyond this question, there are cultural, political, and ethical questions. In a society that values the separation of church and state, what do we teach our children? Is it morally responsible for a community to dictate what should be taught to their children? What community standards are immoral to pass on to the next generation? Finally, there are theological questions. What is the role that the Scriptures play in our faith? What is truth? Are nature and revelation in conflict? If so, which takes precedence?

None of these complex questions will be answered with a simple blog entry. Nonetheless, perhaps I can suggest some ground rules. First, Darwin is a straw man. Evolutionary biology has changed a lot since the time of the HMS Beagle. Critics must be honest about who and what they criticize. Second, critics of evolution should not be dismissed out of hand. Many who cling to the science of evolution would be appalled to find themselves in the same camp as promoters of racism and eugenics. Most critics of evolution that I know are not concerned with microbiology but rather with macro things--human relationships, the place of humanity in the created order, and the integrity of the biblical text.

Personally, I must agree that natural selection makes sense. Those whose genetics allow for better adaptation have better chances for survival. Likewise, I accept the concept of class as a helpful sociological tool. I also believe that greed and lust are great motivators. However, I am unwilling to reduce all human behavior to one source a la Charles Darwin, Karl Marx, Milton Friedman, or Sigmund Freud. Can evolutionary biology really explain altruism? Can it explain the music of Bach or Mozart? Can it explain Jesus Christ? Every pained explanation attempted falls short. I firmly believe that there is more to life than the material. Life is just a bit more complicated.

Intelligent design suggests that God is in the details. Where natural science is unable to explain, God is there. Maybe, but is ID science? The First Things article suggests “no.” Instead ID is rightly understood as metaphysics. As a compromise, the article asks why not require a philosophy class be taught to high school students including metaphysics. Students could be exposed to Aquinas, Aristotle, and Pascal as well as the skeptical Hume. Such a class would probably meet constitutional muster, and it would prepare students for living in a world where faith is taken seriously. Perhaps, such a class would be a concession that the world is a bit more complicated than some people suggest.

Newsletter: Needs Repeating

Easter poses a special challenge to preachers. For almost 2000 years, people have proclaimed that "Jesus Christ is risen. He is risen indeed." And in a variety of venues, pastors have tried to show the relevance of that profound statement to their congregations. After countless sermons and devotions, what else should be said? Isn’t there a danger of repeating oneself?

I heard a preacher once say, "I’ve preached multiple times on ever character in the Easter story. If only God could have slipped in one more name, I would have another ten years of sermons." There is a whole category of Christian literature which is fictional yet speaks to the death and resurrection of Jesus. In one story, the death of Jesus is told from the perspective of the tree which was hewn to make the cross. In another story, a fourth wise man shows up thirty-something years late and encounters a crucified and then a risen Christ. In still another, a Roman soldier investigating the missing body of Jesus, a la CSI, comes to faith. Each of these stories is a repackaged gospel presented fresh and new.

I see nothing wrong with making imagination a servant of faith, but I wonder why we are so worried about repeating ourselves. Jesus of Nazareth lived showing the compassion of God, calling the world to repentance. This Jesus is our Emmanuel–God with us. He was arrested for blasphemy and sedition, and the Romans crucified him. This act of betrayal and sacrifice had cosmic implications. It becomes the very avenue God uses to reconcile ourselves to Him. After three days, Jesus is raised making his victory complete. Death, sin and evil are destroyed. Here is our good news: "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" (1 Cor 15:55).

When we walk through life encumbered with sorrows and pain, we need to be reminded of good news. The gospel may not be original but it remains our victory. In our attention-deficit world some things need repeating. "Tell me the old, old story of Jesus and his love."

Christian Peacemaking Team's Elephant

Pacifism is an honorable position. However, not all pacifists are honorable. Those who believe that Christ’s teachings preclude any violent response under any circumstance are in good company. I am greatly respectful of my Mennonite brothers and sisters and find their arguments helpful. Unfortunately, many self-proclaimed “peacemakers” are not consistent with their arguments.

Jesus tells Peter that “those who take the sword will perish by the sword” (Matt 26:52), yet the Scriptures also acknowledge that the state does not “bear the sword in vain” (Rom 13:4). To reconcile these two positions, Christian pacifists have traditionally accepted that Christians had little role in “bearing the sword.” Church Fathers argued back and forth whether it was legitimate for Christians to serve in the military. For these pacifists, God would ultimately judge Rome (or Washington, D.C.). Today, such a position would prevent Christians from serving in the military, the police, or the president who serves as Commander-in-chief.

The alternative to Christian pacifism is the “just war” position. Where pacifism is simple, “just war” is messy. One has to make judgments about legitimate power, just cause, and the rules of warfare. Good Christians can vary in the application of these principles. Thus, Roman Catholic hierarchy has been critical of the current Iraqi War and the Southern Baptist Convention has not. Although I am not a pacifist, occasionally I tire of the messiness and long for the simplicity of the pacifist's arguments.

I’ve been following the story of the Christian Peacekeeping Team who was kidnapped in Iraq. CPT believe that the war in Iraq is illegal, and multinational troops are destabilizing the region. They are there in Iraq to protest the war and to “get in the way”. A team was captured by insurgents and one member was killed. Based on a tip, multinational troops rescued the team.

On March 23, CPT released a statement, and I was more surprised at what was not mentioned. They gave thanks to God for the release of their members which is right and good. They even had a wonderful statement about Christ’s demand to love our enemies. However they never mentioned the elephant in the room--the actual troops who rescued them. CPT prefers the term “release” rather than “rescue,” and they blame the presence of troops for the instability which led to the kidnapping. To me, there seems to be some ingratitude, and a willingness to excuse the evil acts of the insurgents. I also sense some self-righteousness. I don’t expect their position on the Iraqi War to change, but I wonder if there has been some serious reflections on the proper use of military force. Is this an example where the state was rightfully “bearing the sword”?

In contrast to CPT's rather dissatisfying response, I found the words of Roman Catholic peace activist, Rose Marie Berger, more humble and more helpful. She continues to believe that the Iraqi War is wrong and agrees with CPT. Still, she mentions the troops. After praising and thanking the troops, She writes,

“It would be easy to pit the peacemaker against the soldier - but it would be wrong to do so. There are soldiers who serve ‘the least of these’ in Iraq. It was an unknown American soldier who decided to drape Tom Fox's casket with a flag to honor his sacrifice. And there are peacemakers who thrive more on their own anger, self-righteousness, and personal purity, than on authentic deeply rooted sacrificial love.”

An acknowledgement of the good and evil in us all. Makes this Calvinist’s heart proud.

UPDATE: CPT finally has thanked the troops.

UPDATE: The CPT hostages have decided not to cooperate with coalition forces for debriefing--information which could lead to the rescue of other hostages. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2006/03/25/wkemb25.xml

Essential to the Life of the Church

Here is a letter I just sent to Presbyweb concerning the denomination's "Joining Hearts and Hands Campaign."

Dear Editor,

I must concur with Arthur Kinsler in his recent Presbyweb viewpoint, "Fish, or Cut Bait!" If memory serves me correctly, the "Joining Hearts and Hands Campaign" began in response to budget cuts of missionaries. As missionaries retired, the PCUSA was not planning to replace them. Some good intentioned folks felt that the solution was this $40 million dollar campaign.

Beyond the problem of missed goals and restricted funds, the campaign was misguided in the first place. It suggests that new church development and international mission is something extra--beyond the normal stewardship of our denomination.

Most of our churches do not have campaigns to raise money for the electric bill. Those costs are part of the normal budget of the church. Which is more intrinsic to our identity as the church of Jesus Christ--missions or electricity? For all the good work that will be accomplished with the "Joining Hearts and Hands" money, the campaign suggests that mission is something less than essential to the life of the church.

James

What Does a Pastor Do?

Someone recently asked me, "What does a pastor do?" Here are some of my thoughts and the beginning of an answer...

First I am a minister of Word and Sacrament. That means that I must speak God's Word when no one else will. I must also baptize those new to the church, break the bread and pour the wine, and pray for my people. God calls me to build up his church.

I visit parishoners in their homes or at work. I make hospital and emergency visits. I study Scripture and theology. I write. I help with a variety of ministries--as a coach, as a resource person, or as an extra pair of hands. I teach, preach, and lead worship. I volunteer in the community. Finally, I attend tons of meetings.

Every week is a little different especially if there is an emergency. A funeral may mean that I will be with the family for long stretches. I may have little time to do anything else.

A pastor friend says that we are professional lovers. (I know that sounds strange.) A pastor loves the Lord and shares that passion with the congregation through sermons and lessons. A pastor is also around for the most of the important events of life--birth, graduation, wedding, crisises, death. All of these occasions are opportunities to share God's love with others. We are called to love our parishoners and walk with them through life being a constant witness to Jesus Christ.

Where others may be unable or unwilling, we must ask, "What is God up to in this situation?"

Aslan and Atonement

Not only is this blog rarely original, but it is rarely timely as well. For instance, I almost never read the Presbyterian Outlook on-time. I catch major articles highlighted on Presbyweb and then receive the dead-tree version second-hand from a parishioner. (She is so nice to give me her copy when she finishes it.) Nonetheless, I get my copy fairly late. Today, I happened to be reading the December 26, 2005 issue of the Outlook.

Inside was a review of the movie, "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe." Now, C.S. Lewis was a life-changing author for me. I am inclined to like the movie, and despite quibbles, which I won't describe here, I thought it was a decent adaptation of the book. What I found strange was the reviewer's choice of words.

If you don't know the story, there is a witch who has wrecked havoc on a magical place called Narnia. Aslan is a lion, Narnia's protector and savior. When I was young, I didn't catch the Christian imagery. Now that I am older, I see that the whole book is drenched in it. Here's how the movie reviewer described the climatic scene.

What the evil Ice Queen [the witch] doesn't understand is that even if she defeats the lion, she still loses. His sacrificial death serves as such an inspiration to his followers that he remains alive to them (a thinly-veiled Christological reference."

The only veil I see is the one that the reviewer is using to cover up traditional soteriology. In the book (and the movie for that matter), Aslan offers himself as a sacrifice. He is killed, and he comes back to life. His death is more than an "inspiration to his followers." The success of their battle against the forces of evil are dependent on the much alive Aslan.

Some dislike the book and the movie for the overt Christian symbolism. They believe C.S. Lewis had an agenda, but this reviewer reveals his own. I wonder if this obvious misreading of the Aslan's death and resurrection belies attitudes about the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Too many times I have heard people (including clergy) suggest that Christ's death was important because it inspired the disciples. His great sacrifice of love was so powerful that the apostles believed that it was like Jesus never died. Jesus was alive in their hearts. You can believe that if you want, but that has not been the position of the Church or the Scriptures. Clearly, Christians have believed that Jesus rose bodily from the grave. The tomb was empty.

Is it possible that the author is interpreting Aslan through his own understanding of Christ?

Newsletter: Luck Has Nothing to Do With It

I don’t think I have a drop of Irish blood coursing through my veins. Nonetheless, I will be beaming with pride this St. Patrick’s Day. I won’t be drinking green beer or wearing a “kiss me I’m Irish” button. I won’t be looking for leprechauns or pots of gold at the end of the rainbow. What I will do is offer a little prayer of thanksgiving for Patrick, the evangelist of Ireland. Here was a man of strength and passion, yet also humility. He grew up in a Christian home in England, on the outskirts of the Roman Empire. Patrick’s father was a deacon in the church; his grandfather was an elder. He was baptized in the church, and like some who grow up in the church took his faith for granted. At less than sixteen, he was kidnapped during a pirate raid and taken to Ireland. He was made a slave, and in this crisis, he rediscovered his faith. Patrick writes, “And my soul was restless within me so that in a single day I would say as many as a hundred prayers, and almost as many in the night…”

After six years, Patrick heard a voice in the night directing him to escape. Following the voice, he made his way to the coast and obtained passage on a ship bound back to England. His family welcomed him home, but somehow he remained restless. In England, he dreamed that the Irish were calling him back, not as a slave, but as one who proclaimed the good news of Jesus Christ. Patrick trained for the pastorate, and he returned to Ireland. His Latin was never very good. His writing style was never very accomplished. Patrick called himself an “ignoramus.” Despite these shortcomings, thousands came to know Jesus through Patrick’s preaching and teaching. Patrick loved the Lord, loved the Scriptures, and loved the Irish. Through Patrick, God brought about the peaceful conversion of many of the warring tribes of Ireland. In a few generations, Irish warriors with the skulls of their victims hanging from their belts were replaced by Irish monks with copies of the Bible and the Church Fathers hanging from their belts.

Ever since I heard his story, Patrick has been a hero of mine. His love, his compassion, his humility, and his missionary zeal are lessons for all Christians. We don’t have to be Irish to claim Patrick, just Christian.

Davey and Goliath meet Mister Rogers

I recently found a little book in the bargain shelf at a local Christian bookstore. The book looked corny, but I was intrigued. You can find my review of it on Amazon.com. The book was about Mister Rogers, from the PBS children’s series. Fred Rogers was an ordained minister in the United Presbyterian Church. He attended seminary at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary many years before I did.

According to the book, there was a struggle whether he would be ordained since he was not pastoring a congregation. To be honest, I don’t think I would have voted to ordain him. All Christians are called to service. Ordination is for particular ministry--the ministry of Word and Sacrament, deacons, and ruling elders. To ordain outside of those particular ministries suggests something less than the priesthood of all believers. Ordination is no longer for the sake of the church, but instead it becomes a reward for theological education or for doing really good works. There should be no hierarchy within the church. The person who digs ditches to the glory of God is doing something just as important as the person who runs a soup kitchen. Ordination is about taking on the yoke of Christ for the care of his church.

But I digress. Fred Rogers was ordained with the understanding that he would develop a children’s program as an outreach for the denomination. Only later would denominational officials call Fred Rogers and inform him that the money did not exist for his program. What a missed opportunity. With Fred Rogers at the helm, Presbyterians could have expressed on television Christ‘s loving words, “Let the children come to me.” The Lutherans had a cool show in Davey and Goliath. It remains one the best investments in children’s religious broadcasting. Why couldn’t the Presbyterians have done that?

Sharing the Pain

The Moderator of the General Assembly of the PCUSA is concerned about the denomination’s plan to divest from Israel. Frankly, I believe that the decision to go down the road was foolish at best. I appreciate the moderator’s concern, and I hope the General Assembly Council heeds his advice to provide guidance. What I find interesting is the Presbyterian News Service’s depiction of the moderator’s nuanced approach to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict.

The moderator said that, when he visited the children's section of the Holocaust Memorial in Jerusalem, he was able to imagine his own son's name being read among those of the dead. And he said he also remembers that, during his first visit to the Holy Land, four years ago, he visited Bethlehem, a town under house arrest, and noticed that children woke up in the morning and asked whether the curfew had been lifted, much as he had asked about snow days when he was a boy.

Holding that dual tension, he said, requires empathic listening to both stories, and sharing the pain of both parties, rather than simply siding with one.

Now, it’s true that Palestinians have suffered a great deal. The average Palestinian deserves better than to be limited by curfews and walls. However, one overwhelming question comes to mind. Does our moderator believe that the systematic slaughter of Jews and a curfew are morally equivalent? I also find it strange that the moderator must reach into the past of Nazi Germany for a wrong perpetrated on the people of Israel. A modern Israeli might think of a stream of suicide bombers killing innocents. A curfew may provide annoyance for children and be economically devastating to adults. However, many Israelis are willing to bear that cost for security.

The real tension is how can Palestinians exercise freedom -- economic freedom and freedom of movement -- and the Israelis be free from violence. Here is the debate that we are not having as a denomination.

Jabez in Africa

I receive Sojourners weekly e-mail update. I read it to learn each week that the "monologue of the religious right is over." Sadly, Sojourners spends so much time telling me that the religious right really isn't Christian that there remains little time to actually engage in dialogue. Occasionally there is an interesting article or a link, and I was intrigued by David Batstone's commentary about the Prayer of Jabez author, Bruce Wilkinson.

Apparently, Wilkinson went to Africa a few years ago to minister to victims of AIDS. Sadly, he appears that he has walked away from the project out of frustration. My entire knowledge of the controversy is from Batstone's commentary. As a result, I don't think it would be fair for me to editorialize.

Despite serious concerns with the theology depicted in the Prayer of Jabez, I hate to see Wilkinson find disappointment. I pray that he has gained wisdom from the experience, and I hope that ministries to AIDS victims in Africa will continue.

Thank God for Robert Schuller

I took a seminary class last week as continuing education. It was a fairly cranky group, which is usually the case when pastors get together. The conversation was critical, which is good. Occasionally, it was more so, which probably wasn’t good. We would complain about a number of well-known pastors and authors. Once someone mentioned Robert Schuller’s name, and the barbs flew.

A pastor pulled me aside and said, “You know. I once attended a preaching workshop by Schuller. He told us that he never criticized anyone in preaching that was not there to defend himself.”

How Christian. That certainly knocks my self-righteousness down a few notches.

Newsletter: Living on the Frontier

“Therefore, if any one is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away,

behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Driving along the highways and byways of the state of Texas, I have always been intrigued by those historical markers. Each one tells a story about the history of our great state. Some are poignant. Some are fascinating. Others are baffling. That someone took the time to mark each these sites reveals a deep sense of history and heritage by Texans. What I find ironic about our sense of history is actually how young our state is. Speaking with members of our congregation, I realize that our community of Vernon is only one or two generations removed from being the frontier. As settlers moved to this area, they lived on the edge of two worlds. They lived in the civilization that they brought with them, and they lived on the edge of a vast wilderness.

As Christians, we also live on a frontier. We are called to live as Christ’s new creation. At the same time, we continue to live in a world which “groans” for redemption (Romans 8:22). We live between the old and new order. We live our lives on the edge. As the pioneer establishes an outpost of civilization, we establish an outpost for God’s new creation. We desire that our congregation will be a people of forgiveness, of love, of grace. We desire to a people after God’s own heart. As we live on the frontier, we will be witnesses of Jesus Christ.

From the beginning, God had a dream for his creation. That creation was corrupted by sin and is redeemed by Jesus Christ. Throughout it all, God’s dream remains. As we enter 2006, our Sunday school classes will explore God’s dream for all of creation. Join us as we live life on the frontier.

Hymns and True Community

I read an article in the December edition of Presbyterians Today. The entire issue was about worship music, and the worship wars which are prevalent in congregation. Eva Stimson, the editor of Presbyterians Today, shared a story about “Archie.”

“One Sunday morning an elderly member of my congregation -- I’ll call him ‘Archie’ -- stood up in the sanctuary and said he really wished we could sing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ in worship. Why, asked Archie in a plaintive voice, was this song no longer welcome in our Presbyterian hymnal…But I do remember the awkward silence that followed the outburst. It was painfully obvious that most of the rest of us in the church did not share his taste in hymns.”

I certainly hope that we are not calling this man, Archie, as an allusion to Archie Bunker--the backward thinking bigot. Reducing this elderly man to a caricature really isn’t fair. Apparently, members of the church are offended by the use of militaristic imagery in “Onward Christian Soldiers.” Back before the term, “politically correct,” was in vogue, mainline hymnals were purged of sexist, militaristic, and insensitive lyrics. Many “Archies” are still hurting from being told that their beloved hymns are immoral. In fact, truth be told, I am an “Archie.” I see nothing wrong in the hymn.

But the story doesn’t end here. Archie is diagnosed with cancer. He is dying. One of the last Sundays that he is able to attend church, the congregation sings, “Onward Christian Soldiers.”

“Even the committed pacifists in our pews belted out lyrics about the church being ‘like a mighty army’ and ‘marching as to war.’ For a moment those of us who normally cringe when militaristic images are applied to faith were experiencing the hymn as our friend Archie did -- not as a throwback to the Crusades, but as a rallying cry to discipleship in a time of fear and danger. Archie’s face shone. It was a moment of true community.”

I hate to argue with a moment of true community, but on a certain level this troubles me. If the hymn is inherently immoral, why sing it at all? If it is not, which is one implication of the story, why do we have to wait until Archie is in the final stages of cancer before we can sing it? I know these people were being gracious and loving, but indulging a dying man like this seems patronizing. What would be so wrong singing the song once a year while the man was living? What about singing it now that Archie is gone as we remember the communion of saints? Could a moment of true community be expanded or extended?

I thought that the hymn has always been meant to be a “rallying cry to discipleship.” If it has been taken as otherwise, the wiser course would be to correct misunderstandings, not ban the hymn.

Newsletter: Christmas in Narnia

In the book, the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis tells the wonderful story of four children from our world entering the magical world of Narnia. The problem is that Narnia is being held hostage by a horrible witch. By her magic, she has made it winter in Narnia. As one of the characters says, "always winter but never Christmas." Under the snow, Narnia remains frightened and lifeless. One of the first signs that the witch’s power is breaking is a visit by Father Christmas. C.S. Lewis’ friend, J.R.R. Tolkien, the author the Lord of the Rings, advised Lewis not to include the scene with Father Christmas. He felt that it would create confusion. Nonetheless, Lewis rejected the advice of his friend. Christmas would come to Narnia.

We don’t live in Narnia, but we are experienced with winter. Snow may not be very common, but we understand chilling temperatures and a wind that cuts like a knife. The plants and trees become dormant, and a dreary brown dominates the landscape. We also recognize that winter is not dependent on the calendar. We have all experienced chilling seasons in our own lives. Those are the times when we are blown about by events and a dreary melancholy dominates our moral, spiritual, and emotional landscape. Who wouldn’t welcome a visit from Father Christmas during these times?

That’s what the Christmas season is about. The people of Israel understood winter. They understood slavery and domination as they waited pensively for the Messiah. Christmas comes and demonstrates that winter is only for a season. The tyranny of winter is temporary. The birth, life, death, resurrection, and eventual return of Jesus assures us that our winters will break into spring. The White Witch of Narnia knows that if Christmas never comes, her rule will be permanent. But Christmas cannot be stopped.

Our God is on the move. Merry Christmas.

Newsletter: Pilgrims and Pioneers

The great Puritan, John Bunyan, titled his book about Christian discipleship, "Pilgrims Progress." Sadly, we don’t usually associate pilgrimage and the Christian life. In fact, the only time our thoughts settle on pilgrims at all is around the end of November. Next to the cans of pumpkin and cranberry sauce are cardboard cut-outs of smiling, black and white clad pilgrims carrying blunderbusses. They remain a cultural memory, more shadow than substance.

Still Bunyan knew his Bible, and his words were chosen carefully. Paul reminds the Philippians that "our commonwealth is in heaven" (3:20). Peter calls the church, "exiles" or "sojourners" (1 Peter 1:1). The Christian life is journey, and we must realize that ultimately this fallen world is not our home. We are pilgrims through this land.

Those words are a comfort. How many times are we told, "The world ain’t fair"? Acknowledging the truth of the comment, we still wish that it was. We don’t want to submit to the injustice and the inequities of the world. Knowing that we are mere pilgrims helps keep us sane. No wonder we act different. No wonder we love our enemies. No wonder we forgive one another. We don’t really belong here.

That being said, some have taken a comfort and made it a hiding place. As citizens of God’s kingdom who reside in the kingdom of the world, we understand that folks don’t understand us. We recognize that ultimately God will set things right. We long for the sweet-by-and-by. Our danger lies in ignoring the world around us. As someone once complained, "Christians are so heavenly minded that they are no earthly good." That is a misunderstanding of the faith we profess.

Our longing for home drives our desire for mercy here. We live in a heavenly colony–an outpost for God on a wild frontier. Not only are we pilgrims, but we are also pioneers. We live and love differently than the world, witnessing to the good news of Jesus Christ. We are called to be peacemakers in a world without peace, to thirst for righteousness in a world which has a price for everything. We make an impact, following the teachings of our Lord in a world which remains hostile to it.

Newsletter: People of the Book

Christians, they say, are people of the book. That book is the Bible. As the Westminster Confession states, the Scriptures are our "rule of faith and life." Our knowledge of God is rooted in the Scriptures alone. However, I believe that most of us are people of another book as well. On my desk, not to far from my Bible is the bible of the twenty-first century America, the day-planner.

Whether paper or electronic, simple or complex, most of us have some kind of day-planner. The most disorganized among us have several. Even our youth are careful about their schedules--squeezing every minute out of their weeks. Our second grader, Thomas, has recently gotten his first planner. Every day, he carefully records his assignments. His parents hope that he will grow up to be a proper Presbyterian, doing everything "decently and in order."

Although we in the Church may have fights over the authority of Scripture, I am amazed that we have no difficulty with the authority of day-planners. If you don't believe me, pay attention the next time some asks you for an appointment.

"I'm sorry, but my calendar is full that day."
"Oh, how how about next week."

No one questions the calendar. Once something is written there it is as sacred as the Word of God.

All this being said, what do our day-planners say about us? Exercising careful stewardship over time means more than knowing where it all went. We also have the responsibility to make priorities. All of us should take a careful look at our day planners. Do our schedules allow time for prayer, Bible reading, and worship? Do we have time to build relationships with friends and family? Do we allow time for Sabbath? Our spiritual lives take time. If we live by our day-planners, then they should reflect that fact.

Every moment is a precious gift from God. Not a single one should be wasted. Every moment, every appointment, every meeting should be dedicated to God.