Note to Self: Next Time Get Here Earlier

I do not remember the year, but I do remember the traffic jam.  A friend and I drove to Ladue in St. Louis County to hear a lecture by Dr. Elaine Pagels, the renowned religious scholar who has done extensive work with the Gnostic gospels.  We left for the lecture at a decent hour with plenty of time to get there, but as we approached the local church where Pagels was scheduled to speak, we got into a major mess.  All brake lights and no movement for blocks.  Surely there must have been some kind of accident ahead or, maybe, some St. Louis sports star was in the neighborhood.  What a surprise to find that the traffic jam was for a scholar!  We spend the two hours of the lecture in a fellowship hall, listening to the lecture over a cracking speaker.

Tonight I had a similar experience.  I am in Denver for the Festival of Homiletics.  The evening worship was scheduled for 6:45 p.m.  The preacher was Dr. Walter Brueggemann.  When I arrived a half hour before the service was to start, the sanctuary of Central Presbyterian Church was packed to overflowing.  The balconies were also already full.  People were in chairs in the narthex outside the sanctuary.  I finally found a seat on the second floor outside the sanctuary--just beyond the narthex.  Wish I had packed my binoculars!  This is the view from my seat:

 

 

If I sat up really straight, I could peak between the banisters and wooden posts to see into the sanctuary to catch a glimpse of Brueggeman.  The sermon was powerful, reminding me that I am one of those little ones, those babes, whom God has chosen.  Fortunately, the sound system at Central Presbyterian is good; no static tonight.

 

What I learned from this experience is that I need to get there earlier if I am to find a seat in the sanctuary.  I am getting up early in the morning so I can arrive earlier than just get there "on time."  And, here's a thought:  Wouldn't it be wonderful to have this kind of problem in your church next Sunday.  You don't need Pagels or Brueggemann to be there, for you have a preacher, a pastor and teacher.  Rather than arriving at the last minute with plenty of places in the pews for you--what if you had to get there an hour ahead of the service just to get a seat in a pew?  Imagine that, it might still be possible even in New Hampshire. 

 

 O God, prepare me to get to the church, ready to worship, ahead of time.  Amen.

Called as Friends

I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. 

--John 15:15, New Revised Standard Version

 In the church of my childhood, our pastor was a great preacher.  He was ordained in 1920, and his deep booming voice sounded like claps of thunder.  No microphone needed.  He had learned the art of projecting well.  What I remember today is the way he addressed us:  "My Dear Christian Friends."  I took those words literally.  For him, they might have been part of his rhetorical style, but I heard them as an affirmation of friendship.  To be a Christian and a member of Christ's church was to be rooted in a relationship of friendship.  No matter what, we were still in this together.  We were friends.

What we call each other matters.  A classmate in preaching class would use "Folks" repeatedly in sermons to address his listeners.  There was neither affirmation nor affection there.  "People of God," "Brothers and Sisters," "Disciples of Christ," are often spoken today--but they do not satisfy my deepest hope for the church as a community: Friends with God and one another.  And sadly, I often hear "they" or "them" when I am working with churches that are caught in chronic conflict.  There is no friendship there--no love professed or lost.  No church left.

So today, I am praying for "My Dear Christian Friends"--friends who are far away and friends who are very near, friends who bear heavy burdens with great courage and friends who inspire my heart to sing, friends who confront and friends who comfort.  I thank God this morning for that aging preacher whose greeting still echoes in my mind.  I praise God for all friends in Christ who share this journey with me.