Sunday, June 25, 2017

You Can Do This Hard Thing




I often imagine the upper room where Jesus celebrated Passover with his disciples for one last time.  It was there in the midst of the supper that he announced that one of his closest friends would soon betray him.  The ultimate betrayal was at hand. This was the eve of an ending.   It was there in the upper room, amid the ancient ritual, that he instituted the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper.  It was the farewell worship.  And the service ended with a hymn:  "And when they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives."  (Matthew 26:30, NRSV).  If your eyes blur or you rush too fast through the text, you might miss it. 

And when they had sung a hymn, . . . .  I have often wondered:  So, what was that hymn?  What were the lyrics that they sang and shared as the end came?  Would the song echo in Jesus' soul as he faced the cross?  Would it inspire him to be faithful rather than fearful?  Would it sustain him as death drew near?

Well, I think I may have finally heard the song.  It's not in my hymnal, but it is in the music of Carrie Newcomer, who sings "You Can Do This Hard Thing."  I share that song in this post, because I need courage to be faithful to my calling.  All disciples need courage today to follow where Jesus sends them.  We need courage to be the Church when there is so much anger and conflict among us, around us, and within us.  We need courage to do the hard thing--to face into our own endings, to carry our own cross in hope of life--glorious, new, and abundant life.  We need courage to embrace the future and to discover that joy dwells there within us..

My prayers are with friends in nursing homes, those enduring treatments in hope of healing, those retiring from a lifetime of ministry, and those leaving home for the first time or the last time.  I think of the little children who face an uncertain future around the world and right here at home.  I imagine those seated on the front pews at funerals--on the mourner's bench.  I pray that they will all have a song, a hymn that reminds them to be hopeful and alive.

So, I share this song with you, my friends.  May it touch your hearts and transform your fears as you face into the trials and transitions of your own life.  Let us sing and serve with courage and hope and joy.

May the peace of God, which passes all understanding, be with you now . . . and always.





Monday, June 19, 2017

The View from the Madison Porch



Over the weekend, the Board of Directors of the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ met at Horton Center, our Conference's summer camp.  As I sat on the Madison Porch early on Saturday morning, fog obscured the view.  Then suddenly, I caught this glimpse of Mount Madison.  The fog descended and the light broke through--albeit briefly.  Just seconds after this picture was taken, the mountain was again shrouded in grayness.  It was there, but gone from my sight.

Somehow, this picture has become a metaphor for my life in these days.  I catch glimpses of God's grace, but there is much that I can only know by faith.  I trust that God is there even when tragedy and trouble block the view.  I trust that God is there when I cannot see the future with clarity.  I trust that God will never leave me nor forsake me. 

In the afternoon, at our closing worship on the Madison Porch, I shared the words of Psalm 121:  "I lift my eyes to the hills.   From whence does my help come?  My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth."  God, who creates forests and fog and mountains . . . and you and me, is our keeper.  God is our helper when we feel helpless.  God is our hope when we feel hopeless.

And, I made a move from the hills of Psalm 121 to Matthew 28:16-20--to a mountain in Galilee--where disciples were directed to go by the Risen Lord.  On that mountain in Galilee, they met him and worshipped him.  Some saw him clearly; others experienced him through the fog of doubt.  And in the end, after commissioning them, he promised them his presence:  "And lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age."

As is our custom when the Board meets, we concluded with Holy Communion, proclaiming the Lord's death and resurrection.  We beheld him in broken bread and a cup of wine.  We felt his presence and were empowered for the journey ahead of us.  By then the sun was shining and the day was hot.  Mount Madison was clearly visible.  No fog anywhere, just a few floating clouds in the sky.

So, my friends, I take great consolation and courage in the assurance that the Risen One is with us always.  We are not left to our own resources.  We have a helper and a keeper.  Our lives are secure even when the future is uncertain and the view is obscured by the fog of fear and doubt.  May Jesus be near you today and in all the days yet to come.  May Jesus give you strength when you leave the table and move into the troubles of the world.  He is with you always . . . to the end . . . and beyond.

Monday, June 5, 2017

Let Us Be the Church

I recently read "Pentecost's Costly Gift" in the current issue of Journal for Preachers.  The article's author, Thomas W. Currie of Austin Theological Seminary, offers a deeper understanding of the Pentecost narrative in Acts 2. 

In the United Church of Christ, we have come to place the accent on the universality of the gospel--how the Spirit's coming breaks through the barriers of language and nationality.  Currie writes, "When interpreted in this way, Pentecost becomes merely a reaffirmation of our own commitment to tolerance and perhaps even an expression of a kind of limitless Christianity that believes in little more than its own open-mindedness."  

He claims that Acts 2, when taken in its entirety, offers an understanding of what a Pentecostal church that is shaped by the Spirit of the Risen Christ might look like today:

1)  It is not about being a utopian community.  "The church's life is not self-formed or an infinitely plastic thing but a received gift that brings with it a certain disposition, a posture of dependence, a sense of its own strangeness, even holiness.  This sense has a shape and a name.  It is called discipleship."  We are in the church not as privileged members but as followers of the crucified Christ.  We are Christ's disciples.

2)  Unity is the chief characteristic of this church.  "To bear witness to the Pentecostal nature of the church is, amidst all our brokenness, to confess that oneness that is ours in Christ and to pray that his Spirit would trouble our hearts and make us deeply ashamed of and uncomfortable with our disunity."

3)  This church is aware that it has limits.  The church is enlivened by the gift of the Spirit of its Risen Lord.  It is not self-made.  We are the Body of Christ in this time and in this space.  We are finite and limited.  "The gift is not in some vague spirituality that is only too happy to define itself, bur rather it is the concrete form of Christ's body in the world.  This gift limits our efforts to construct our own identity, . . . .  We receive our identity through the waters the Spirit bathes us in Christ."

4)  The church is together because of the Spirit of Christ shapes us to witness to those powers and principalities that claim to be in charge.  It is in the act of eating together that the church is formed.  Acts 2 speaks more about eating than doing.  The church's true identity and purpose is not in the idolatrous pursuit of a cause. "It is the life together that is formed and sustained by this eucharistic sustenance that gives shape to the church and enables it to challenge the culture at its roots."

5)  The church is not a capitalistic enterprise.  This church makes a conscious decision to reject consumerism.  It lives a holy life that makes it distinct and able to challenge the values of the culture.  "The idolatry of success, the blessings of prosperity, whether economic or political, the righteousness blindness toward the wretched of the earth, all of these are efforts to create a church without limits, to fashion something much more in our own image, a 'successful' church."

6)  The church is a place of joyThe church rejoices in the gospel.  It celebrates that resurrection is its reality.  "Joy is the gift of the Spirit that knows Easter is true.  Joy is the echoing response of those who have heard this word and eaten this bread and who refuse to look back.  Joy is the soil in which hope grows."

As I think of the local churches where my faith has been formed and where I have served as Pastor and Teacher, I have seen glimpses of what Currie calls the Pentecostal church   May we receive the church as God's gift.  May we be united at the font and the table.  May we live with values that are grounded in the gospel rather than the culture around us.  And, above all, may we be God's people in a place of great joy. 

Yes, let us "Be the Church!"