Provocative thinking, maybe…

Epilogue – January 15, 2012 January 15, 2012

I was a little hard on the Kardashians this morning. I’m unrepentant about my treatment of them, and the fact remains that the instrument has yet to be invented that can measure my indifference to their antics. But I should amplify something I said earlier.

I said that too often the reason we’re so obsessed with people like the Kardashians, with celebrity families in general, and with entertainment itself is that we find our own day-to-day experiences to be rather dull and devoid of meaning. That’s not really the Kardashians’ fault. In fact, they might be doing us a great favor by exposing our boredom.

If we’re feeling the need to inundate ourselves with entertainment just so we can experience some sense of fulfillment in our lives, then our lives really have become boring. So checking the Kardashian’s Twitter feed every few minutes is ultimately about us, not them. We’re simply battling boredom, and the Kardashians are quite willing to distract us from our relative dullness. But distraction isn’t really the answer.

God has not created us to be boring. God has not created us to be superficial. God has created to live lives of meaning and significance. That doesn’t mean that every waking moment of every day is a thrill ride. But it does mean that every day can matter.

You see, the real solution for boredom is not to distract ourselves with superficialities but instead to fill our days with difference-making activity. To do that over the long-term requires us to be connected with a formidable source of energy, creativity, patience, and love. I offer, for your consideration as a source for all those things and more, our awesome God.

Next week we’ll continue the conversation about entertainment with a discussion about various entertainment awards shows. Got a favorite award – Oscar, Emmy, etc.? Let me know. There are soooo many to choose from… (hint)

Epilogue – January 8, 2012 January 8, 2012

I had to go upstairs to the third floor before I left the church this afternoon. As I was walking through one of the hallways, I passed by the rooms reserved for AA. Alcoholics Anonymous is one of the most powerful spiritual groups in our church. I thought about how the concepts of AA related to the cultural dependence on entertainment we talked about this morning.

We should take care in too quickly comparing the very real disease of alcoholism with our culture’s obsession with constant entertainment. That said, entertainment has some very alcohol-like effects.

Overindulging on entertainment can produce a temporary “buzz,” a sensation many people find pleasant. Too much entertainment ultimately dulls the senses, serving as a depressant that numbs one’s true feelings and emotions. But perhaps the starkest similarity is found in Step Two.

Step Two of The Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous is this:  [We] “Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” It’s that belief in a restorative power greater than ourselves that is the beginning of recovery from both alcoholism and terminal boredom.

Recovering alcoholics understand that it is not their mission in life to get drunk; it is, in fact, a terrible distraction from their true mission as human beings. Similarly, recovering entertainment addicts must also learn that it is not their mission in life to be entertained. Too often entertainment becomes a terrible distraction from the mission to which God calls each of us.

People who believe their mission in life is to be entertained tend to see everyone and everything else as entertainers, including the church. In an effort to become less boring, some churches have taken up the mantle of entertainment, even at the expense of spiritual and theological depth. I fear such churches are doing little more than cultivating congregations that are simply biding their time until they find a pastor who can pull a larger rabbit out of his/her hat.

To quote that storied philosopher, Bullwinkle J. Moose: “Nothing up my sleeve…presto! I gotta get a new hat.” Join us next week at the Austin Avenue Church, for something we hope you’ll really like.

Epilogue – December 13, 2011 December 13, 2011

We’ve been singing—and then talking about—a different song every Sunday during Advent. This week, it was the song, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” Many people knew the song. Some even knew that the lyrics to the familiar Christmas song were actually written by the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. But no one I spoke to after church could remember ever having sung the fourth verse.

Verse four lends great understanding to the carol. From Longfellow’s poem Christmas Bells, the fourth stanza reads this way:

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Having sung this verse on Sunday, we discovered that the poem/song is, in part, a tale of the tragic fortunes of war. The cannons that “thundered in the South” were Civil War cannons. Longfellow’s son Charles had left home, without his father’s permission or blessing, to join the Union Army. This was not long after Longfellow’s wife Fanny had died in a fire in their home.

During the battle of New Hope Church in Virginia, Charles was seriously wounded. Longfellow received word of his son’s injury on December 1, 1863, and traveled to Washington, D.C. where he met his son and took him home to recover. That Christmas of 1863, Longfellow made no entry in his journal, echoing his grief over the loss of Fanny from the previous Christmas when he wrote, “I can make no record of these days. Better leave them wrapped in silence. Perhaps someday God will give me peace.”

Then on Christmas Day of the following year, Longfellow wrote the epic poem that gave us the familiar words we sing at Christmastime. In the meaningful lyrics, we hear Longfellow’s heartbreak, his disillusionment, and ultimately the restoration of his hope, hope that came via the sounds of Christmas bells ringing. It’s a wonderful Christmas message. But it’s so much more poignant when you sing verse four.

This afternoon in the car, one of the radio stations was playing “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” They played verse one. They played verse two. Then they skipped right to verse seven, the last stanza of the poem, which is:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!

The final stanza is a great message of hope. But it means altogether more when hope is scarce. God did not take human form and enter the world because things were going great; God did so “to save us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray.”

Oh, wait. That’s next week’s song. Stay tuned.

Epilogue – November 27, 2011 November 27, 2011

It was a full day at the Austin Avenue church this morning. It was the 1^st Sunday of Advent. We celebrated the Hanging of the Greens. The kids decorated the Chrismon Tree and then learned a new song about the animals at the manger. We were blessed to celebrate the Sacrament of Holy Baptism. All that was in the first 15 minutes.

Somehow, I even managed to squeeze in some preaching. I introduced the theme for this Advent season; music, or more specifically, the things we can learn from music. Today’s preaching song was In the Bleak Mid-Winter. We talked about how Christ enters into a bleak world and “un-bleaks” it. I introduced our Christmas Mission Project, shoes for the children of Swaziland. I gave everyone a little snow globe, a gift to help us remember how some people are experiencing a winter of discontent. And I invited everyone to imagine then difference we could make in a child’s winter by virtue of the Advent of Christ in our hearts. It really was a wonderful day.

The one thing I just ran out of time to talk about was the challenge. I’ll say more about it next week, but our Advent challenge is simply this: match the spending you do on yourselves this Christmas with a gift for a mission project beyond yourself. You’ve all heard me talk about how Christmas is a celebration of Christ’s birthday, not ours, and how utterly inappropriate it is for us to receive all the gifts at someone else’s birthday party. The challenge simply takes it one step further.

I love getting Christmas presents. I love giving Christmas presents. But the truth is I don’t really need too much more stuff. Stuff is getting to be more of a burden than a blessing. So Brenda and I have decided, once again this year, to (1) buy even less stuff for ourselves and to (2) make a matching gift (equal to the total amount we spent on gifts for ourselves) to the Austin Avenue shoe initiative. It’s a cause that would make Jesus smile, I think.

We still give gifts. We enjoy it way too much to stop. But the experience of giving thoughtful, less expensive gifts that enable us to be generous in mission giving is a gift in itself. It’s one we’ll give to ourselves this Christmas. And it’s one that feels really good. Don’t you deserve a feel-good gift this Christmas?

Epilogue! November 13, 2011

Since I was a kid, I’ve always liked watching those “Quinn Martin” productions. You know, those old cop/detective TV shows like The Fugitive, The F.B.I., Cannon, Barnaby Jones, and the like. And one of the coolest things about them, to me, was the “Epilogue.” The epilogue was the final scene, a conclusion which often included an off-screen narrator who offered us insight into what we had just seen. I like epilogues.

Perhaps the reason I like epilogues is because I need one every Sunday. Try as I might—and you know hard I try—I just can’t say everything I want to say to you on Sunday mornings. Either I run out of time, or I completely forget to say something I had intended to say, or I don’t think of that perfect illustration for my sermon until an hour after church is over. I need an epilogue.

So, I’ll start posting my epilogues here. Look for them on Sunday afternoons and/or evenings. And don’t forget to let me know what you think. This has been a CM production.

Epilogue—November 13, 2011

Today I preached on Romans 3 and our Christian responsibility to do more than the bare minimum, in light of the tragic situation at Penn State. We talked about Joe Paterno. Lots of people all around the nation are talking about him. And some are wondering why we are talking more about Paterno than Jerry Sandusky. After all, Sandusky is the real criminal here; he was the predator who abused these kids. Why all the focus on Joe?

Because he’s Joe. It doesn’t really shock us when evil people do evil things. As terrible as that is, it’s what we expect from them. We’re therefore neither surprised, nor are we particularly disappointed when bad people behave badly. But when good people make terribly tragic choices, it’s different. We expected more from them.

And that’s why we’re so shocked and surprised and disappointed with Joe. Because for half a century, Joe Paterno has epitomized character, ethics, and all that is good in college athletics. I can close my eyes and imagine Paterno giving a news conference in which he announces that the moment he learned of this heinous crime, he immediately called upon the highest levels of law enforcement and university administration to act and act decisively, so that no child might ever suffer such a fate at Penn State again. That’s what you expect a Joe Paterno to do.

But he didn’t.

Maybe he thought he had done enough. Maybe he didn’t understand. I’m not sure. But I am sure that most of us expected him to do more.

Most of us, but not all of us

Not everybody feels that way. In a recent interview, Hall of Fame running back and Penn State alum Franco Harris called the university’s decision to dismiss Paterno “disturbing.” I don’t know Franco Harris. He may be a thoughtful, intelligent man. But his public statement criticizing Penn State’s Board of Trustees for firing Joe Paterno borders on ludicrous. Here’s an excerpt from that interview:

“I feel that the board made a bad decision in letting Joe Paterno go,” Harris told the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review. “I’m very disappointed in their decision. I thought they showed no courage, not to back someone who really needed it at the time.”

Harris thought the trustees “showed no courage” in failing “to back someone who really needed it at the time.” Really? Wasn’t that the very reason they fired Paterno and University President Graham Spanier? And what about the 10 year old kid who was being brutally raped in the shower of the Penn State football locker room? Did he not need someone to back him? Did he not deserve someone to be courageous for him? Harris’ mindlessly ironic comments only serve to remind us of the greatest failing of the man he’s trying to defend: showing no courage, while failing to back someone who really needed it at the time.

Way to go, Franco. Immaculate reception, maybe. Idiotic perception, definitely.

The ARC and Cold Water August 5, 2011

Today was the last day for our 2011 ARC Summer Camp, the summer day program for kids with autism and developmental/intellectual disabilities operated jointly by the ARC of McLennan County and our own Austin Avenue church. After lunch, Tom Pearson, Executive Director for the ARC, gathered his staff in Fellowship Hall for a time of debriefing, evaluations, and to say thank you to one another. I sat in for just a few minutes, hoping to learn how we did as a church and what we could do better.

The ARC staff gushed praise for Dave, our Building Superintendent and for his assistant, Bobby. I was incredibly proud of their work and the difference these two men had made (perhaps unknowingly, at times) in the lives of these kids and their families. Each person on the AAUMC staff made significant contributions to this year’s camp, and the ARC staff was gracious with their thankfulness.

But because I’m a preacher, I couldn’t leave the meeting without telling the ARC staff a quick story. This past Tuesday, the church hosted the ARC Art Show, an amazing collection of paintings, sculptures, and other projects created by the kids from our summer camp. I walked through Fellowship Hall just as the last few people were leaving, and a parent who was on her way out the door turned around and came back to speak to me.

“You’re the pastor here, aren’t you?

“Yes,” I said. “I’m the senior pastor.”

“I just wanted to say thank you for making this available to my child this summer. You have no idea what a difference it made.”

“You’re very welcome,” I replied. “It was our blessing. We’re looking forward to having you back next summer.”

The mom fell silent for just a moment, and then came her reply.

“Really?”

Even though the camp has now completed its third summer at Austin Avenue, it’s still hard for some parents to imagine that we would want their kids back. They’re used to being told otherwise. They’re used to hearing how difficult their children are to manage, how they’re not appropriate for this environment or that environment, and how most people and places are simply not able to work with this challenging population.

As Tom likes to remind his staff, that’s why the ARC Camp exists; to work with kids nobody else can or will. It is definitely a challenge. The fact is that it takes dedicated, talented, special people to work with these kids. And so we do not criticize those who can’t or won’t but instead bless those who can and will.

After telling my story, I came back upstairs to face a big stack of papers on my desk and a lengthy list of uncompleted tasks on my computerized calendar. The high summer utility bills have to be paid. The upcoming changes in fall programming have to be finalized. New leaders must be recruited. Malfunctioning equipment must be replaced. Committee meeting strategies must be ironed out. And then there’s the odd sermon that needs to be finished. There is so, so very much yet to accomplish.

Yet it the midst of all that the church has yet to accomplish, today reminded me that the church accomplished something profound this summer. The church blessed children. The church supported families. The church reached out to kids who have often been marginalized and helped bring them back into the center. The church cared for the least of these. The church offered a cold cup of water.

In the Gospel according to St. Matthew, Jesus says: “I assure you that everybody who gives even a cup of cold water to these little ones because they are my disciples will certainly be rewarded.” (Matt. 10.42, CEB) The church offered a cold cup of water to a group of kids who thirst for dignity, for acceptance, for understanding, and for love.

Soon I’ll go back to working on all that is yet to be accomplished. But for the next few moments, I’ll pause to give thanks and praise for all those who offered cold water at the Austin Avenue church this summer. Your work did not go unnoticed. Cold water always makes a splash, especially when it’s 107 degrees.

Blessings!

GPS June 24, 2011

I finally got around to installing the WordPress app for Android to my Atrix, so maybe I can get around to blogging more regularly!

Speaking of the Observation of the Day, I was driving down one of the major thoroughfares of the metropolis of Waco when, at a red light, I saw a car next to me that had a GPS unit. It was one of those that you stuck to your windshield with a little suction cup thing. I’ve had one of those myself. That’s not the odd thing.

The odd thing is that this person had the GPS stuck right above his steering wheel, about midway between the roof and the dash. In other words, it was right in the center of his vision, right in the middle of where he was supposed to be watching the road ahead.

Some people are so intensely focused on a would-be destination, they lose sight of the path they’re on, the obstacles ahead, and their fellow travelers. Draw your own theological conclusions.

Have a great weekend and see you in church Sunday!

Confessions of a Hypocrite May 9, 2010

After all that’s been said about hypocrisy this morning, let this be my final word (for this afternoon, anyway).

I can’t help myself.

Perhaps the most hypocritical thing I can say is that as Christians, we will never again engage in the unseemly practice of hypocrisy. Ever. Until the next time, of course.

The idea that I will never again do anything that I have either (a) preached against or (b) exhorted others not to do borders on absurd. That’s like saying I will never again eat anything that’s even remotely unhealthy for me. Fat chance (pun intended). I’m pretty sure that try as I might to adhere to a healthy diet, there is a scoop of ice cream somewhere out there in my future. My challenge is not so much never to have another scoop. My challenge is not to be defined by it.

There will be times when we as Christians fall short. Even when we take our faith seriously, even when we try our hardest, there will be those occasions when we can’t quite measure up to who God has called us to be. That’s us being human. The apostle Paul writes,

I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. ¹⁹ For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. (Romans 7:18b-19, NRSV)

I won’t always be able to resist evil, which means that I won’t always be able to avoid hypocrisy. But I can avoid being defined by it. The best way to do that, I think, is to define myself in other terms before others get a chance to define me by my failings.

That’s why I think it so critical for modern-day Christians like us to define ourselves. We define ourselves not in self-righteous, haughty terms that leave others feeling judged as inadequate. We define ourselves not by the religious jewelry we wear or the Jesus fishes we stick to the back of our cars or even the loyalty we have to denominations.

We define ourselves by the mission and ministry of our Lord Jesus, who called us to do such mundane things as feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick, and care for the prisoner. Jesus felt so strongly about these things that he dared to suggest those were the criteria by which he would judge people when he returned. We define ourselves as those so lovingly devoted to Christ that we actually try to do the things he asked of us.

In a cynical world anxious to define Christians by their faults, we can choose to be defined instead by our feats; feats like helping provide a safe environment for autistic kids who have no place to go this summer. The ARC Summer Program at the Austin Avenue church provides both a safe place for these kids and a compelling alternate definition of who we are as Christians.

We are unquestionably imperfect. But we don’t have to be defined solely by our imperfections. We can choose to be defined by God’s qualities as well as our own: God’s grace, God’s compassion, and God’s love. All we have to do is make that grace, compassion, and love evident to the world in what we do. When we reach out in authentic grace, like we’ll do with the ARC kids this summer, the kids win and we as Christians win.

Win-win is hard to come by, you know?

I Call This Meeting to Order May 2, 2010

A few more thoughts on meetings…

Jesus had lots of meetings. He met with his staff on a pretty regular basis. In these meetings, Jesus provided training, guidance, encouragement, discipline, and direction, not to mention an occasional scolding or two.

Jesus’ meetings were inspirational. Jesus’ meetings were practical. Sometimes Jesus’ meetings were even brief. A particularly good disciple staff meeting is found in the 9^th chapter of Luke’s Gospel:

Then Jesus called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, ² and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal. ³ He said to them, “Take nothing for your journey, no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money—not even an extra tunic. ⁴ Whatever house you enter, stay there, and leave from there. ⁵ Wherever they do not welcome you, as you are leaving that town shake the dust off your feet as a testimony against them.” ⁶ They departed and went through the villages, bringing the good news and curing diseases everywhere. (Luke 9:1-6, NRSV)

That’s a pretty good meeting. Jesus calls them together, gives them the tools they need, gives them instructions on how to do the job, even tells them what to do if it doesn’t work, and then sends them on their way. The main difference in his meeting and so many modern church meetings is verse 6; they actually went out and did something.

They didn’t go out to the parking lot for a post-meeting meeting. They didn’t file the minutes of the meeting away in some dusty three-ring binder, never to be heard from again. They actually went to where people were. And to those people who had needs, they brought good news and healing.

That’s the church at its finest.

I’m not against meetings, per se. I’m against meetings as an end rather than a means. The fact is that in order to get organized, we need meetings. Jesus used meetings to get his disciples organized. But their only reason to organize was so they could translate Jesus’ mission and message into reality. Jesus never called a meeting that wasn’t designed to move his disciples into prompt, tangible, redemptive action.

Too many modern church meetings are for meetings’ sake: so we can get one in for the quarter, so we can maintain the institution, so we can stay in control. Jesus used meetings, but in a singular way. Our church meetings should reflect the meetings of Jesus, who called his disciples to order, gave them the tools and inspiration they needed, and then sent them out to help change lives in the community in which they lived.

The reality of changed lives helped people understand the meaning of following Jesus. Meaning trumps meeting every time (and twice on Sunday). I’ll still hold meetings at Austin Avenue; the rules make me. But we’re moving toward a time when all meetings must be judged by what happened as a result. If no one was healed, no one heard the good news of the Gospel, and no one came to know the meaning of Christ’s love, then what the heck were we meeting for in the first place?