Pastor’s Blog

For some spring break is just another date on the calendar or a memory of a seasonal vacation no longer observed. For many, however, it is a brief window of opportunity to get away or at least change the pace. How did you spend your spring break? Did you go to the beach and get a pre-summer tan? Did you don mouse ears and skip through the Magic Kingdom of Disney World? Did any of you stay home and work on your garden, planting tomatoes and peppers and such? I am sure many from our church here in Augusta found some time and opportunity to cross the bamboo boundary and watch some exciting golf.

While my two sons worked long hours related to The Masters and earned some “walking around” money, I spent my spring break walking along the Appalachian Trail (AT). My walking was more like huffing and puffing along a section of rolling mountains in the southwest North Carolina. The AT is a marked hiking trail in the eastern United States extending between Springer Mountain in Georgia and Mount Katahdin in Maine. It is approximately 2,181 miles long. I have hiked all of Georgia’s section and much of North Carolina’s part. In order to hike the entire trail, however, you will need more than a spring break because it will take about six months to cover the distance.

This is “thru-hike” season which means those desiring to hike the trail need to leave Georgia between March 15 and April 15 if they want to make it to Mt. Katahdin before Maine closes access on October 15. During my comparatively brief four days out there I met many thru-hikers. One guy was hiking nearly 20 miles per day, which is a brutal pace. That same day I met another couple that was more or less meandering at a snail’s pace of a just a few miles a day (I doubt they will make it). Most interesting of all among the thru hikers I met is that there is no “typical” hiker. I expected to see wiry and young college graduates choosing the trail before heading to corporate America, along with drop-outs trying to find themselves. There were other surprising encounters that defied my stereotype. I met a guy from England who had been on the trail for two weeks and he was at least 70 years old. The next day – after a harsh thunderstorm and spring freeze – I met three ladies easily in their sixties. Young and old; optimist and pouters; American and other – there were all kinds out on the AT with a common destination in mind.

"Thru-hikers" at the Carter Gap Shelter - my tent was a better choice for shelter!

God’s people are to be a diverse lot too. In the book of Acts we read that when the Holy Spirit came upon the early church the Christians spoke in languages from all over the world. It is a powerful symbol that the family of God is not monolithic; we do not all look alike but come from a rich and diverse tapestry. When the church begins to reflect the diversity of this earth we begin to “see” a better picture of the Kingdom of God. We are told in Acts: “In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.” (2:17)

Look around you as we practice church each day and see for yourself God’s spirit at work. You will see a beautiful pallet of skin colors, languages, and social classes represented. No two are alike other than Christ died for all and Christ now lives for all. This journey to the cross and beyond is a journey where many are on the trail and while not a one of us is just like the other, we are all heading for the same destination, the same hope, the same Savior.

Thanks be to God for this indescribable gift! Amen.

Camping on top of Standing Indian, elevation 5,500 feet.

It seems like a distant memory now, even though it was less than two weeks ago. On top of a mountain with my family, we were doing something Amy and I never dreamed of doing when we were our children’s ages: snowmobiling. We were in Breckenridge, Colorado and along with a small group of other vacationers we were snowmobiling along the backside of the Rocky Mountains. The temperature hovered in the teens but the sunshine was full and we were all having the time of our lives; each one of us commandeering our own snowmobile. These are powerful machines that are something like riding a four-wheeler and a jet ski combined. By the end of the afternoon my face was purple with cold, my beard was layered in frost and my grin was frozen in place.

One of the great things to be enjoyed while snowmobiling is seeing parts of the mountains not accessible to skiers. There were winding trails and beatific vistas. The best view occurred near the top of one mountain. Due to the risk of avalanches we could not go to the very top, but we went as high as possible – 12,500 feet. We were above the tree line and in a simple way felt as though we were on top of the world. Soon, too soon, our time was up and it was time to not only take our snowmobiles back down the mountain, but take ourselves back home.

Life has its highs and lows; this we know all too well. For a time in my life I worked feverishly to create and then recreate high points, thinking that I could string together mountaintop moments and that would be my life. Yet not a one of us lives on top of the mountain. Not even Jesus, who was transfigured on top of a mountain, complete with holy visions and divine voices. Even Jesus had to come on down and face the crowds, faces the drudgery, face the questions. (Matthew 17:1-9)

The glory of God, which can so easily be felt deep within our hearts when we are on mountaintops with those whom we love most, is still the glory that goes with us down the mountain, even into the valley. The shine of the transfigured Jesus on top of the mountain shines on in us and through us while we are dwelling and living along the plains. It is not enough that we be dazzled by the glow of Jesus while at the highpoints of our lives. Rather we have been called; we have been summoned as God’s children to be the ones transfigured and “aglow.” It all comes not because we wish to idolize or mourn the past or even glorify in the present, but because there is a holy movement afoot that is not so much about stringing together mountaintop moments, but living also in the plains where God too is at work.

How do you see the glory of God at the foot the mountain, when the crowds press in and the questions are asked?

Which do you think is easier to believe? To believe in what you do not have or to believe in what is hoped for? We know what we do not have and it is usually in the category of never enough. It is quite another thing to believe in something that is only a hope.

We have two great stories in the Bible: one in the Hebrew Scriptures of the wilderness wanderings of the children of Israel and the other of the hungry crowd pressing in on Jesus. Both stories involve hunger and both stories involve feeding and both stories deal with a stronger belief in what they do not have instead of what is hoped for.

Israel had been led out into the wilderness to escape their Egyptian captors. They came to believe, however, that they were led out to starve. “The rabble among them had a strong craving; and the Israelites also wept again, and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we used to eat in Egypt for nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic; but now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to look at.“  (Numbers 11:4-6)

They came to despise God’s provision of manna, also called “bread of heaven,” and all they saw was their scarcity, what they did not have.

Now glance ahead through the centuries and through your books in the Bible to this story in John. In fact this particular story is told in all four Gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke as well as John. Thousands of people we are told are surrounding Jesus and his disciples and Jesus asks Philip one of those rhetorical questions, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” (verse 5) We have this beautiful comment in verse six: He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answers him just like any one of us would have answered him had we been there: “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” Another disciple, Andrew, finds a little boy who brought his lunch and says rather dismissively: “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?”

That is it, isn’t it? It is easier to place one’s belief in what you do not have. Not enough meat to eat and despising the bread from heaven. Not enough bread to go around and dismissing the offering of a little boy’s lunch. We do it too – not enough money in the account, not enough time in the day, not enough talent, not enough gifts, not enough intelligence, not enough people, not enough energy…

There are very real perils in misplacing belief in scarcity when God is breaking forth gifts of abundance.

Is church – the community and family of faith – just about nickels and noses? Is it about adding more members? Or is it about being part of a movement? If it is about just another member, just adding another name to the list so that we can boast about our roster then we are bowing down to the belief in scarcity – because there will never be enough. It is anxiety driven. It is about whining for meat when God is showering us with manna; it is scoffing at a lunch without realizing what Jesus can do if we but stand for the breaking and blessing.

If, however, what we are about is inviting people to be a part of a movement; a movement that is bigger than the sum total of parts; a movement that is about transforming lives; restoring those who have lost their way and working towards the betterment of the community…if we are about inviting people to be a part of this kind of movement, God’s movement, then we are well on our way from trading our scarcity of what we do not have into the abundance of what God has to offer.

Don’t take my word for it, read the Bible. And if that does not convince you look around. While the whiners and complainers are wailing that the world is falling apart people and there is just not enough there are others who are part of a movement that is changing this world one relationship at a time.

Don’t you want to be part of that movement?

We the followers of The Way have a counter-cultural message to share. The bread of heaven is falling and the hungry are being fed. God’s abundance abounds – now let’s go live it.

Living in Georgia all of my life, I have had very few snow days, so nearly every one of them is memorable. I can easily recall one winter ice storm when I was a little boy that took down power lines and waited along with befuddled dairy cows needing badly to be milked for Georgia Power to restore our electricity. Even now, where school is a fading distant memory, there is a bit of hopeful anticipation to see if our school will be cancelled. Throughout Sunday we tracked on television and on the internet the progress of the cold front that was promising to bring us snow, ice and sleet from the heavens. Some, especially those that work outside, saw this as an ominous foreboding. Others, especially students, saw this as a gift from the Creator. I saw this as a nice diversion.

Getting up at my usual hour Monday morning I soon found out that there would be no hospital visits, Rotary Club, or a staff meeting on my agenda. I could not even see our road. Instead, it would be lots of hot coffee, intervals outside with the family, and working by way of the laptop for most of the day. Wet, mushy, thick and cold – snow day!

What is so special about a fresh snowfall that even the most cynical among us cannot refuse? Is it the wonderful blanket of silence that morning snow leaves or those mysterious tracks left behind by some bird, rabbit or squirrel cutting across the yard and into the woods? Have you ever watched a sunset surrounded by snowfall? Breathtaking. Maybe we all just look forward to the chance to redeem our childhood with a snowball fight or building a snowman (or snowwoman).

Snow is beautiful too in its covering up of the old and dead remnants of summer. Outside my front porch is a stand of lifeless brush that once was a thick patch of lantana. It is a little melancholy, poking through all that snow, but poignant too in its on way. What was lush and alive and ready to be dug up and cast away is given a fresh cloak and a fresh perspective.

Maybe that is why so many of us like the snow – it helps us see the same old world differently. It covers the scars and gashes, blankets over and makes all things smooth. Food tastes better, coffee tastes richer and the fireplace feels warmer. Sure, it is all temporary, but even if it is just for a moment we who are blessed with shelter and other basic necessities may be blessed in its offering. 

I love this passage from Isaiah:

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall be to the LORD for a memorial, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off. (55:10-13)

Nothing of God is wasted. Nothing of God is unnecessary. Nothing of God is lost. This Sunday I will be preaching a sermon entitled “Changing Your Focus.” I hope that through snowfall and scripture and other acts of testimony we may more faithfully see God moving about in our lives. Goodness knows in this world of hateful rhetoric and meaningless violence we need to see things and one another as God would.

I close with a wonderful poem I filed away not too many years ago by David Budbill.

“Winter: Tonight: Sunset”

Tonight at sunset walking on the snowy road,
my shoes crunching on the frozen gravel, first

through the woods, then out into the open fields
past a couple of trailers and some pickup trucks, I stop

and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue,
green, purple, yellow, gray, all at once and everywhere.

I pause in this moment at the beginning of my old age
and I say a prayer of gratitude for getting to this evening

a prayer for being here, today, now, alive
in this life, in this evening, under this sky.

How do you begin a journey? Do you have to have all the details worked out before making that first step or do you just tromp ahead and let the surprises be the point? Amy is a planner and loves to make (and strictly abide by) lists. I, on the other hand, tend to just plunge ahead, impulsive and at times foolish.

Last week Amy and I “tromped” into the New Year by making a small journey of sorts. My beloved and I hiked five miles through nearly a foot of snow near the Amicalola Falls in North Georgia and then spent a cozy night at the Len Foote Hike Inn. You can only access this inn by hiking in and hiking out. Perhaps the term “inn” is a bit generous. It is rustic, bare-bones, and no-frills. They do provide a hot meal at night and one more in the morning before sending us back out into the snow to hike back down the mountain. It was a lovely way to close out the year and prepare for the start of a new year.

In this particular jaunt, Amy depended on me for the details since I do most of the hiking and backpacking. Wanting to make a good impression, I worked a bit harder on some of the details and she, likewise, trusted me with some of the surprises. Fortunately our surprises were mostly positive and even when things were less pleasant than planned (like frigid temperatures in our bunk room) we made plans to adjust (I brought a winter sleeping bag that was warm and toasty).

In these early days of 2011 I wonder how we are planning our own faith journey. It is indeed a journey and like all good jaunts it has its fair share of surprises. Starting this Sunday I will be teaching a class on Beginning Christianity. It is for anyone interested in learning more about their faith or discovering what it means to follow Jesus for the first time.

Really, we are all just beginners, are we not? Each waking moment we carry out halting steps into new paths. Sometimes we are prepared and other times we are completely surprised, even lost. That is why we need one another – the community of faith – because we make the trek together.

I invite you to join me in this journey for six weeks, beginning January 9 through February 27. We will meet at 10 AM sharp in room 203 in the Adult Building. The sessions are as follows:

Session 1: Getting Started

Session 2: What Jesus Did

                        Read Mark 1-3

Session 3: What Jesus Taught

                        Read Mark 4-6; Matthew 5-7 (The Sermon on the Mount)

Session 4: Why Jesus Died

                        Read Mark 14-15

Session 5: Jesus Lives! Can We Know Him?

                        Read Mark 7-9, 16

Session 6:  Being Baptist, Being Christian

                        Read Mark 10-13

Happy traveling!

This Sunday, December 26, instead of our live broadcast of the worship service, we will broadcast the music special “A Festival of Carols” performed by our Church Choir and Orchestra. This was a special evening of music and worship on December 12th, now available to those who will otherwise be unable to attend worship this Sunday.

The broadcast will be at 11 AM on WRDW, this Sunday.

For years I have attempted to convince my sons that “they” wanted a telescope for Christmas. Year after year, however, no telescope would be on their list for Santa. Finally they took the hint and about four years ago they gave me a telescope for Christmas. I admit that I do not use it that often – it is a bit cumbersome to carry and delicate to set up – but when I do I am not disappointed at what I see, even when it is at two o’clock in the morning.

Two o’clock in the morning is a time on my clock that I almost never see. It is too “late” for me to stay up and too “early” for me to start the day. Yet on Tuesday, at 2 AM Amy and I were awake and shivering in the front yard peering through my telescope. Yes, we were one of those eccentrics who actually got up to watch the lunar eclipse. This, as you have no doubt read by now, was not just any lunar eclipse. According to NASA this was the first time a total lunar eclipse occurred on the winter solstice since 1638. As a result, the moon appeared “very high in the night sky, as the solstice marks the time when Earth’s axial tilt is farthest away from the sun.” This will not happen again until 2094, and by then I will be 128 and my eyes will in all likelihood be too weak to view the eclipse!

The eclipsed moon reflected the earth’s own reflection of the sun rising and setting all over the globe, giving the moon a reddish appearance, like heated iron. Some call it the “Japanese Lantern.” It was a celestial marking of the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. By next week our days will have lengthened by several seconds! Ancient traditions marked this time as the “birth of the sun.”

There are a couple of theories of why Christians, somewhere around the fourth century, began celebrating the birth of Jesus near the winter solstice. December 25 falls nine months after March 25, the traditional date of the first day of creation. Jesus, therefore, reflects the birth of a new creation. Another tradition is dating the birth of John the Baptizer at June 24 (summer solstice) and for Jesus December 25 (winter solstice). Biblical evidence, however, suggests that historically Jesus was probably born between March and November when shepherds would be out in the fields. By 200 AD there were theories that Jesus was born on May 20 or April 20-21.

We really do not know when Jesus was born. We do know that His birth is our occasion for a celebration of a cosmic level. Just as the night will never be so long that the sun will not return, there is no journey in life that we will travel where our path is forever obscured in shadows. Christ has come, and Christ will come again.

Now that is something worth getting up in the middle of the night to celebrate!

Merry Christmas and peace on earth.

Recently on NPR I listened to a report of a billboard advertisement near the Lincoln Tunnel in New York. It depicted a nativity scene, a star and three wise men with the message: “You know it’s a myth,” courtesy of a group called American Atheists. Not to be outdone there is now another billboard sponsored by a religious organization with the same scene but with the message: “You know it’s real.” I am not sure what these competing billboards cost, but I am certain the money could have been put to better use.

What is it about this season that leads many believers and unbelievers into an unofficial war on Christmas? There is more than a little debate concerning what we should call Christmas in the public. Do you own a Christmas tree or a Holiday tree? Do you wish your friends, even those that are not even Christian, merry Christmas or Seasons Greetings?

When you think about it, this is really not new. In the days of the Second World War Americans were scribbling on cards, and scrawling on storefronts the words “Merry X-Mas.” It has sort of fallen out of vogue to use that abbreviation because it sounds as though we are dropping the Christ out of Christmas.

But maybe what we are seeing today is different. After all, it seems far more intentional, more contrived to rename our trees, our customs so that Christmas is dropped in favor of more sanitized names. So children in the public school are out on Winter holidays instead of Christmas holidays; soldiers are depicted in the media wishing “Seasons Greetings” instead of Merry Christmas.

I confess: I am a bit perturbed, irritated, even insulted that my traditions have been co-opted. But on the other hand, who am I to question how another organization or business chooses to recognize this time of year. When you think about it, what is more offensive: that public and commercial entities are dropping the word Christmas from their various promotions and celebrations or that Christmas has now been reduced to a free for all of consumption and materialism. Just look at what happened in retail stores throughout this country the day after Thanksgiving: tempers out of control, pushing, shoving and even fights breaking out. All of this goes on for a day that historically reminds us of the one who was born homeless, lived in poverty and died having the very clothes on his back taken from him.

Thank God that Luke remembered. Luke remembered to tell us: “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.” It may not sound like much, but Luke was saying the same thing Charles Dickens said one hundred years ago in his book Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times and the worst of times.” It was the worst of times because Herod was a monster and ruled like he was God. It was the worst of times. The people of Israel were not worried about bargain priced plasma screen televisions or being stuck in holiday traffic. They were worried about their survival.

But Luke also says it was also the best of times. He shares it with one simple verse: And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

If all we do is feel righteous indignation because someone else wants to rename our customs, our traditions, then we have succumbed to the culture itself. Think of all those who missed the message two thousand years ago: Herod, the religious leaders – scribes, priests – none were there that night. They were caught up in their commerce; they were caught up in their power; they were caught up in the masses of people who passed right by the stable on that starry, starry night.

A few, however, heard, and traveled, and saw, and left with their lives never to be the same again.

…there were radios. Sitting on a shelf of our bookcase at home is an old Philco Transitone radio. I remember it sitting on top of the kitchen counter alongside the coffee pot and beside the wooden rocking chair where Papa would sit after the evening chores at the barn. Eventually, I am not sure when, it stopped working and was tucked away in a closet, forgotten but thankfully not discarded. I salvaged it years later and now keep it as a nostalgic and sentimental reminder of a simple farmhouse and two hardworking grandparents.

My grandmother told me that they purchased the radio right after electricity, thanks in large part to Franklin D. Roosevelt, was made available in rural Putnam County. The year was 1941 and the radio was their first major purchase of an electrical appliance. According to my research the purchase price was $12.95 – about $198.34 today, which for dairy farmers was an extravagant price. This luxury allowed my family to listen at nights to the Atlanta Crackers baseball team. (If you have never heard of the Atlanta Crackers baseball team then you are probably not from Georgia or you are under 40 years old). I am sure they also listened to morning farm reports, daily news, and social events happening around the state. Maybe they even listened to a little music, although I do not have a memory of hearing music come out of its Bakelite shell.

I am writing this particular article on December 7, so I am wondering if they learned of the attack on Pearl Harbor by way of that radio. I have this faint memory that my grandmother said they did not hear about the attack until several days later. Less than a year later my grandfather’s brother would be drafted, and later was killed in action in Germany. I like to imagine that they learned of the war’s end by that very same radio, but I cannot be sure. Throughout its lifetime bad news and good news was heard from that little brown box with its dusty speaker.

Bad news and good news. At its best the role of the church is truth speaking which includes bad news and good news. We proclaim that all is not right in this world just as all is not right in our own personal lives. We cannot, should not, sugar coat what is bad. Alfred Delp, a martyr within a Nazi death camp, wrote: “…woe to any age in which the voice crying in the wilderness can no longer be heard because the noises of everyday life drown it – or restrictions forbid it – or it is lost in the hurry and turmoil of progress – or simply stifled by authority, misled by fear and cowardice.” (The Prison Meditations of Father Delp) I need to add that these very words were penned on scraps of paper and smuggled out of his prison cell by way of laundry. He knew first hand the bad news that should not be suppressed.

The bad news of this world, however, is not the only news and neither is it the last news. The voices of Gospel proclamation remind us that God has more story to tell and that story has creation in mind. It is the Good News in a bad news world. It is the light in the darkness. Yes, there is darkness, this much is true. What is also true, even truer if that makes sense, are the words: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5) These words sustain from generation to generation. When the box on the shelf speaks of wars and death and turmoil, we are painfully reminded of humanity’s brokenness. Yet the bad news is not the only news and it is not the last news.

Hope, peace, joy and love to you and yours,

Once again I am proud to tout in this esteemed article that we have a beautiful Christmas tree in our Living/Family/Herding room. It is a Frazier Fir, ten feet tall and full all around. In keeping with tradition we purchased the tree a few days after Thanksgiving and soon filled it with endless strands of lights and Christmas ornaments that are kooky but special. We have enjoyed the tree ever since.

Once again we have the same small problem that nags us every year: the tree is leaning. I have tried everything to remedy the problem. I have readjusted the stand; trimmed limbs; prayed over it and now I am just trying to ignore the tilt altogether. Our evening dialogue goes something like this: “Honey, the tree is leaning,” says Amy. “No it is not,” I reply, “your eyes are just tilted. The tree looks fine.” And then to add a final statement assuring authority on the subject I say, “Besides, it looks more natural leaning like it is.” Eventually I start brooding. I cannot blame it on the tree and the stand seems to be working fine. Our house is not leaning. This is just one more thing that goes along with Christmas: even the best Christmas plans fall short of perfection.

Is your Christmas perfect? I am sure it is not. Not only do trees lean and strands of light fizzle out, but people disappoint, illness sets in, and the unexpected and unplanned lands at the doorstep. When we try to pretend that we can pull off the “perfect” Christmas, watch out – not only will the Christmas tree lean, but disappointment and depression can enter as unwelcome guests. Peace and joy? Forget about it!

Maybe a leaning tree is as good a reminder as any that this is what Christmas is not about. Amidst a surging crowd, inns too full for company and while a new tax was about to be levied, a Child was born in a trough.

Please don’t misunderstand me: it would bring me great pleasure to have the folks at Southern Living call on us to say they would like to feature our house in their next December issue. In reality, the only hope we have in that happening is if they want to show off popsicle stick ornaments coated by old dog hair (we are going for the shabby sheik look).

The good news is that even when our lives fall disappointingly short of expectations (and they always do), God is working best. We read that it is in the least likely places and faces where Mary pondered, angels proclaimed and shepherds abided in astonishment.

 May we, when the tree leans, say along with Mary, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord…” (Luke 1:38)

 Here I am too, with you,