Dances With Bears

Ash Wednesday return

2010-02-18T12:25:00.000-08:00

Lent is back and here is my Ash Wednesday meditation for 2010:

Ash Wednesday meditation 2/17/10
Frederick Buechner has observed that “in many cultures there is an ancient custom of giving a tenth or a tithe of the year’s income to some holy use. For Christians, to observe the 40 days of Lent is to do the same thing with roughly a tenth of each year’s days.”

“After being baptized by John in the river Jordan, Jesus went off alone into the wilderness, where he spent 40 days asking himself the question what it meant to be Jesus. During Lent, Christians are supposed to ask one way or another what it means to be themselves.”

The ashes are an ancient biblical sign of repentance and symbol of mortality reminding us of the brevity and preciousness of this earthly life, that life is short and each day of it is a precious gift of God that should be treated with reverence and care. It is a gift that we don’t take for granted but a gift that we cherish and we know that one day we must give it up and let it go. That is the way of all the earth.

The Lenten journey is, in part, about letting go. Some say Lent is about giving up something, which may be true for some of us. Someone may give up red meat for 40 days, or chocolate or chewing gum or cigarettes or soda. You may give up watching TV one evening a week and spend that time writing a letter or visiting a lonely or sick person instead. You may choose to fast one day a week and donate the money you save to World Hunger. You may give up looking at other people’s worst points and look for the good in others. You may give up playing on the internet for hours every day and use that time for the love of God and the good of other people.

Some of us would prefer to take something on than to give something up. That is fine if you would like to add another hour of prayer time or Bible study or service or some other spiritual discipline. If you just can’t bring yourself to give something up but would prefer to take on something, be sure to take on something that is holy.

Lent is not just about giving something up but about letting something go. The Lenten journey recalls when Jesus resolutely set his face toward Jerusalem and what he knew awaited him there. We follow the steps of Jesus to the cross, which was the ultimate letting-go. We need to let go as well. What do you need to let go of?

Maybe you need to let go of an old anger or pain that you feel is yours, you are entitled to it, but now is the time to let it go.

Maybe you need to let go of some guilt, or regret, or remorse, let go of the inability to forgive yourself for something you have done or something that might have been. The cock has crowed; let it go.

Maybe you need to let go of some pet sin that has a grip on you but you have been in such denial that you do not even realize the power it has over you. To repent means to let it go.

Maybe you need to finally let go of your need to control others – your parents, your children, your friends, someone who is not behaving the way you want them to and you just cannot resist the desire to fix them. Let it go.

Maybe you need to let go of some relationship that is not healthy, not good for you. It is ok. Let it go.

Some of us will have to let go of a loved one who has passed away since last year’s Lent. A man in our church this week has had to begin the process of letting go and saying goodbyes to his wife of 62 years. This takes time. Even for Jesus, letting go was a process. That is why the 40 days.

And even as we begin the process of letting go, Jesus reminds us that you may need to let go of your very life so you can find it again. “You must find your life by losing it.” If you are still holding back, grasping, clutching, holding on, you may never be able to receive the great life God has for you.

Repentance means turning. It means turning away from anything that has become for us more important than God, our idols. It also means turning from our preoccupations with self and turning toward sincere love of God and neighbor. It can mean letting go of our lesser gods and our wasteful preoccupations and laying hold of something better!

When my father lay dying ten years ago this year, and it was clear that his illness had all but overtaken him, the hospice chaplain offered my mother this counsel: there will come a time that you will need to go to him and say, “It’s all right. We will be alright. It’s ok to let go.” This will help him in his own letting go and will make his journey easier. What do you need to let go of tonight, and in this Lenten season?

The Hitchhiker

2009-03-18T11:35:00.000-07:00

Jesus is six feet ten inches tall. No exaggeration. Six feet ten, really. And black as the ace of spades. I know because I talked to him today.

He called the church this morning and asked for me by name. He had found my name in the telephone directory at the Best Western where he had spent the night.

His story began typically enough, with a rather long uninterrupted narrative that began at a prison in Texas and had a hopeful ending somewhere near Springfield, Missouri with a stop at Conway in between. Through the years it has become all too familiar: someone wants to tell me their life story before getting around to telling me what they want. But before my cynicism could set in completely, I found myself actually listening to his story.

Sure enough he had been incarcerated somewhere in Texas, where he had met some folk who were involved in the Emmaus/Kairos community. He had made a turn in his life and was trying to get back to Missouri where he wanted to attempt to reconcile with his wife. He told me he had made some bad mistakes and wanted to first show her that he was the man she had married, the man she loved, a man who wanted to get it right this time.

My caller’s name was Mike, and I later learned his wife’s name was Mary. Someone at a Church of Christ in North Little Rock had gotten Mike as far as Conway, and he had managed to get a room at Best Western for the night. Now all he wanted was a ride to Greenbrier, just a few miles north of here, and from there he would continue hitchhiking on up through Clinton, Harrison, and on into Missouri. Now I was a little surprised and I asked him to tell me again: so you just want a ride to Greenbrier? Yes, that was it.

This was not quite like the other calls, which usually end with a request for money or gas or a bus ticket or another motel room for the night. Quickly I told Mike I could get him to Greenbrier. After I clarified where he was I told him I would pick him up in fifteen minutes. I told him what kind of car to look for and he told me I could not miss him, saying he was six feet ten and would be standing right there in the parking lot.

After I hung up I realized what I had done. I had agreed to pick up a hitchhiker, sight unseen, and give him a ride in my car. Before leaving the office I took my credit cards out of my wallet, gave my secretary my license plate number and told her if she did not hear from me by ten thirty she was to call the police. On a cognitive level I realized the risk I was taking but on a spiritual level I knew it was ok. I am very intuitive that way. I was going to pick up Mike and take him to Greenbrier.

When I turned in to the Best Western parking lot I could see Mike standing there and instantly knew I had made the right choice. There he was, all six foot ten of him, with his canvas jacket and his bag which probably contained all his remaining belongings. He was a big gentle man. As he got in my car I told him he would probably need to push the seat back, to which he said, “I’ve heard that before!” And no doubt he had, many times.

In our telephone conversation I had learned that Mike knew a bit about religion and about churches. This much became obvious in just a few minutes. On our ride he told me that he had read a lot in prison and he was quite conversant about matters of faith. He asked me where I was from, where I went to school, and how long I had been in Arkansas. This was a little unusual because I am always the one who gets the other person talking. Mike and I made very easy conversation, and in just a few minutes we were in Greenbrier and found a place where he was ready to stop. In a very short time I had told Mike all about the places I had lived and served in the ministry, my widowhood and the blessing of my second marriage, and about some things he might watch out for further up the road. We discussed race and religion. I told him about an old friend of mine who was a Church of Christ pastor and how we loved to engage in friendly arguments about religious topics. He asked me about a town north of here that is notorious for its inhospitality to black people, and I apologetically told him he should be careful there. He assured me he had friends there and would be fine, to which I agreed. Then he shared with me that racism, as he put it, was a two-edged sword, that his wife was white and she had experienced it from the other direction. I gained some understanding from what he shared.

When we stopped I gave Mike a water bottle with our church logo on it and a little cash from my pocket. I wished him good luck on his journey and getting back in touch with his wife. He asked me to pray for them, and repeated her name, Mary. I said I will pray for you, Mike and Mary. He shook my hand, got out of the car and said, thank you for treating me the way Christ would have. I called my secretary on my cellphone and told her I was safe and on my way back to the office. As I was driving back I could not help the feeling that I had been with Jesus, who today was six feet ten inches tall and black. He had a small bag of his possessions, a plastic bag of food, and a couple of books.

Frederick Buechner said there is a treasure from God every day if we just look for it. Perhaps at the end of each day we should look back and find the treasure. My treasure for this day was giving Mike a ride, which at first I hesitated to do. What an opportunity I would have missed. An opportunity to “be Christ” for another human being and, in turn for him to “be Christ” for me.

"My Father Was a Wandering Aramean..."

2009-03-13T05:28:00.000-07:00

“My father was a wandering Aramean…”

“Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” Matthew 8:20

“In my Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so I would have told you.” John 14:2

“We have a house from God,…not made by human hands.” II Corinthians 5:1

“Live your lives as strangers here in reverent fear.” I Peter 1:17

“They knew they were looking for a homeland of their own…” Hebrews 11:14

Friday, March 13, 2009

I woke up at 5:30 this morning on Friday which is my day off. Wouldn’t you know it -- on my personal Sabbath when I can sleep late without guilt it happens that I wake up at 5:30 in the morning! The reason I woke up this particular Sabbath is because I had my “home” dream. This is a dream which has appeared in my sleep from time to time and I have come to recognize it.

In this dream there is a house, a house which is my house and has been from the beginning. Its features are reminiscent of the Buchanan family place, an ante bellum mini-mansion which still stands on a few acres of ground just two long blocks from the town square in Brandon, Mississippi. The house was built by my great-grandfather, one in a long line of Buchanan men named William. It was started in 1860 and was finished after the War. It has tall ceilings with wood floors and a fireplace in every room. There is a massive wooden staircase in the center of the entry which leads to the four symmetrical bedrooms upstairs. Out back there is the old smokehouse and the detached kitchen, along with an old well and a gazebo. There is a running spring down in the woods about two hundred yards behind the house, and there are huge old magnolia trees surrounded by luxurious flower gardens in front.

In my dream I came over for a visit, and I met the present owner of the house whom I later realized was me. He gave me the grand tour and I was delighted at how he had restored the house and was caring for it. Then we sat and reminisced; he showed me a little book of history that had been written by one of those unknown Southern country writers who really knew how to tell a story. There were a number of preachers in the little book, some of whom I vaguely recognized. After our brief visit I took my leave and thanked my host for his hospitality. That is when I woke up and realized the reason for my dream on this day.

John Wesley once told his preachers, “Do not stay too long in one place,” or something like that. We still hear Wesley’s words in our ordination service. It was one of his maxims. I have been here in this place for seven years, a fairly long sojourn for an itinerant United Methodist pastor. Prior to coming here I was at the last place for eight years and probably could have stayed for another eight but God moved me on.

The house I live in now I bought seven years ago at the age of forty-eight, and other than a small lake house it is the only house I have ever bought. It is the only house of my own that I have lived in since becoming an adult. Being in my fifties and living in my own house for the first time has had a profound affect on me. I like it. The last two places where I have lived I have been there long enough to almost forget that I signed on to be an itinerant minister.

When I preached my mother’s funeral service last September I noted how important her home was to her. She had never lived outside of Jackson, Mississippi until moving here just three years before she died. The words of Jesus were particularly comforting for the time: “In my Father’s house are many dwelling places.” Jesus of course was speaking to a homeless Church, before there were church buildings, committees, or budgets. He was speaking to the first generation of Christians, and to me. The itinerant ministry is an adventure in homelessness, but in the heart of God I am always at home.

Laudete Omnes Gentes

2009-03-11T11:14:00.000-07:00

*LAUDETE OMNES GENTES
Begin softly with a gradual crescendo through the 4th repetition, then decrescendo in like manner...

Sing praises, all you peoples!
Sing praises to the Lord;
Sing praises, all you peoples!
Sing praises to the Lord.

Funny how a song or a fleeting image can take us back to places we have been. This song takes me back to the little community of Taize' in 2003. “Sing praises, all you peoples! Sing praises to the Lord.” In the orange and yellow glow I can see the “church” at Taize’ and can lift my voice with perhaps a thousand pilgrims from France, Germany, Switzerland, the Netherlands, USA, and many other places. I can see the white-robed brothers processing in and can hear the cantor’s voice behind me as he reads the psalm. On my knees I grunt audibly as I try to fold my legs under the angular little wooden kneeling stool. I look around to see if anyone is watching, and of course they aren’t.

Recently I was reading once again Robert Benson’s book Living Prayer which tells of his first visit to Alabama’s Camp Sumatanga for the Academy for Spiritual Formation. As I read his description of the landscape I could almost see myself there again. It was like hearing an old song fraught with laughter and tears and signs of change.

When Robert first visited Sumatanga he wondered aloud how in the world he wound up there. “This isn’t the Promised Land, for Pete’s sake, it’s Alabama.”

Eventually he heard the Lord telling him, “You promised to follow wherever I might take you, and this is where we go next. You are here because the road leads here.”

We are here because the road leads here, and the Lord is with us. Praise the Lord.

“Sing praises, all you peoples!
Sing praises to the Lord;
Sing praises, all you peoples!
Sing praises to the Lord.”

Lenten Metanoia: a Change of Heart

2009-03-09T08:39:00.000-07:00

It's about time I got back to my blog. It's been too long.
Maybe I will start back in slowly, like dipping one's toe in the water before diving in. Lent is a time that is ripe for new beginnings, so I will start at the beginning with my favorite mentor Henri Nouwen:

"Jesus does not respond to our worry-filled way of living by saying that we should not be busy with worldly affairs. He does not try to pull us away from the many events, activities, and people that make up our lives. He does not tell us that what we do is unimportant, valueless, or useless. Nor does he suggest that we should withdraw from our involvements and live quiet, restful lives removed from the struggles of the world.

Jesus’ response to our worry-filled lives is quite different. He asks us to shift the point of gravity, to relocate the center of our attention, to change our priorities. Jesus wants us to move from the ’‘many things” to the ”one necessary thing.” It is important for us to realize that Jesus in no way wants us to leave our many-faceted world. Rather, he wants us to live in it, but firmly rooted in the center of all things. Jesus does not speak about a change of activities, a change in contacts, or even a change of pace. He speaks about a change of heart. This change of heart makes everything different, even while everything appears to remain the same. This is the meaning of “Set your hearts on his kingdom first…and all these other things will be given you as well.” What counts is where our hearts are. When we worry, we have our hearts in the wrong place. Jesus asks us to move our hearts to the center, where all other things fall into place." ---Henri J.M. Nouwen, Making All Things New: An Invitation to the Spiritual Life

I've been working on a Benedictine retreat for this fall based on The Sacred Way by Tony Jones. Will post progress reports I promise.
In the meantime have a most blessed Lent.
Yours in Christ,
Rev

God Remembers

2008-05-26T17:27:00.001-07:00

Isaiah 49:8-16a “God Remembers”

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child of her womb? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands..."

In his letter to the Ephesians (1:15-16) the Apostle Paul writes: “I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers”

One of the ways we remember someone is to pray for them. Do you do this?

This is Memorial Day weekend in America. It is a time of remembrance.

The word “remember” that Paul uses is rich in meaning. To “re-member” means to put something back together. It is the opposite of “dis-member.” When we remember our loved ones it somehow happens in a mysterious way that they are still with us. As Paul remembers his friends in prayer, no doubt their faces appear before his closed eyes and their voices sound in the corridor of his memory.

In Holy Communion we hear the words of Christ, “Do this in remembrance of me.” This means that at the table of Communion the living Christ is with us, and so are all true believers from past, present, and future. As we break the consecrated bread together all the saints are alive in our midst, even as Jesus Christ is alive. This is what we in the Church refer to as the “Communion of the Saints.”

Henri Nouwen wrote, “Through memory, love transcends the limits of time and offers hope at any moment of our lives…One of the mysteries of life is that memory can often bring us closer to each other than can physical presence.”

Frederick Buechner says, “When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind, even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my words and speak to me in your heart.”

To remember does not mean to live in the past. On the contrary, it means to bring your thoughts of your loved one into the present, out of the past, across the distance, into this place with you here and now.

The Hebrew word for remember is zachar, from which we derive the name Zachary. It is a strong verb and includes action, not just something that occurs in the mind. In the Hebrew language you could never say for example that you remembered to take out the garbage and then didn’t do it. Remember means to bring thought and action together.

Our reading today refers to a time when the whole nation of Israel felt they had been forgotten by God. Have you ever felt that God has forgotten you?

Many centuries before, God had called out a new nation to be His own people. Israel was to be a community of faith, dedicated to God, bearing witness in the world to God’s love and mercy and justice. They were to be a special people, consecrated and holy, on mission in the world to call people to faith in God. They were to purify themselves and abstain from the seductive idolatries of the surrounding culture. They were to put God first in everything in their life together; they were to take care of the poor, welcome the stranger, and bring God’s light to the nations. They were to love God with all their heart, soul, mind and strength and to love their neighbor as themselves.

But the temptations and seductions of the pagan secular culture proved to be their downfall. Instead of becoming a special people of God they wanted to be like the other nations. Instead of worshiping God and God alone they wanted to worship God alongside the various idols of the pagan culture. Instead of being obedient they wanted to be independent. In spite of all the warnings from the prophets they went their own way instead of God’s way.

The result was, as you know, their land was overrun by their enemies, their temple was destroyed, and they were taken captive into a foreign land where they languished for some seventy years thinking God had forgotten them.

Have you ever felt forgotten by God? Sometimes it is not that God has forgotten us but we ourselves have forgotten God. In any case we feel alone. Someone in Israel must have cried out, when will God remember us? Saying this meant not that they wanted God to remember simply in God’s mind, but that God would remember and act.

The prophet Isaiah is honored to bring a word from the Lord to a rebellious and chastened nation: Thus says the Lord, “In the time of my favor I have answered you, in a day of salvation I have helped you (perfect tense, as though it had already happened); I have kept you and given you as a covenant for the people, to restore the land and to reapportion the desolate heritages.”

Like a shepherd God will lead them: “They will feed beside the roads and find pasture on every barren hill. They will neither hunger nor thirst, nor will the desert sun beat upon them. He who has compassion on them will guide them and lead them beside springs of water.”

It is a word of grace. It is a word of restoration. It is a word of salvation. It is a word of hope for every person who, for whatever reason, feels themselves to be forgotten and forsaken of God.

“Shout for joy, O heavens; rejoice, O earth; burst into song, O mountains!
For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.” God calls, through the prophet, for the whole of creation to join in exultant praise for the God who hears, the God who remembers, the God who saves. Nature itself rejoices in God’s work of redemption.

But in verse 14 Israel replies, “But the Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.”

These must be among the most poignant words in all of scripture. Even when they hear the good news they can hardly accept it because they feel so deeply and completely forsaken and forgotten by God. They are in such a sad and dark place that they are not able to hear the words of comfort and salvation. When you think of it these must be some of the saddest words ever uttered.
“The Lord has forsaken me. My Lord has forgotten me.”

But God’s reply is this: “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you!”

This is Hebrew idiom at its best. It is hard to imagine that a human mother would forget her own child. But even if she does, says the Lord, I will never forsake or forget you. For you are my child even more so and always.

Then God says, “I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” I think of this as “God’s tattoo.” I know we all have at some time taken a ballpoint pen and written something on the palm of our hands that we wanted to remember: a phone number, your PIN for your debit card, the answers to a test. God has written your name on the palm of his hand and will never, ever forget you.

Have you ever forgotten something you were meaning to remember? Some important date perhaps, a deadline for a paper, locked your keys in the car, forgotten a promise you made to take the kids somewhere, or a birthday or anniversary? I once was filling out some papers and needed Linda’s birthday, so I called her and said is your birthday day August 1st or the 5th? She said it is the 2nd. I said, yes that’s what I thought. Heh heh…

What an odd lot we human beings are, and what limited memories we have! The promise of God is the bond is so strong that your very name is tattooed on God’s hand, permanently and forever. Until the day you die and God calls you home your heavenly Father will not forget you. Let’s just make sure that we ourselves do not forget God.

Whenever you find yourself in that place where you feel forsaken and that God has forgotten you, remember God’s tattoo and be glad.

Chickens Before They Are Hatched

2008-04-30T11:18:00.000-07:00

Then Jacob made a vow saying, “If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat and clothing to wear, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace, then the Lord shall be my God, and this stone which I have set up for a pillar, shall be God’s house; and of all that you give me I will surely give one tenth to you.” --Genesis 29:20-22

Jacob has cheated his brother, broken his father’s heart, destroyed his family, and fled for his life. Later in his life Jacob would be dramatically changed so that God could use him. Without the change he would be of no use to God. This change would be so complete that even his name would be changed: he would no longer be known as Jacob but as Israel. But God reached out to Jacob before he was changed. Here is yet another example of what we in the Wesleyan tradition refer to as prevenient grace.

On his journey of flight from the wrath of his brother, Jacob stops “at a certain place” to rest for the night. At this place formerly called Luz, a profound spiritual transaction takes place in Jacob’s life. As a result of this transaction, even the place gets a new name. Now the city will be called Bethel, meaning house of God.

Here at Bethel Jacob has begun to be more aware. He is now aware of the reality and presence of God (“surely the Lord is in this place – and I did not know it!”). He also has become aware that everything he has comes from God (“if you will give me bread to eat and clothing to wear”) and that he is dependent upon God for his health and safety (“If God will keep me in this way that I go”). He also has become aware of the importance of the place of worship (“this shall be God’s house”) and of the tithe (“a tenth of all I shall give to you”).

This month our government will begin issuing tax rebates of some three hundred dollars per individual, in hopes of stimulating our sagging economy. These checks have not even been printed yet and already there are merchants and others trying to lay claim to them. Kroger advertises that if you will sign your rebate check over to them they will give you a gift card with a bonus. Sears promises the same thing.

Recently someone asked me what I will do with my rebate check. I said, after I tithe on it I will try to use it for some good for my family or others. Funny thing isn’t it: Sears and Kroger want all of your rebate check. All the Lord wants is 10%. Not a bad deal.

Blessings,
Rev

Goodbye Old Boots

2008-04-27T17:55:00.000-07:00

I had been making a list and checking it twice. Hat: check. Clothes: check. Daypack: check. Hunting knife: check. Rain gear: check. Compass: check. Flashlight: check. Boots: check. Wait a minute: there are supposed to be two pair of boots, one insulated and the other not. Here are the insulated ones. Where is the other pair of boots?

Linda smiled patiently as she watched me move from the garage to our bedroom and back again. It was my annual spring ritual, getting ready for my post-Easter Canadian bear hunt. The preparation begins right after Easter Sunday with the fletching of new arrows and the waxing of bowstrings. By the time Pentecost approaches, I am dragging out my hunting and camping gear, laying it out on our bed, scattering it throughout the house, and taking inventory. It had been a long eight months since my “busy season” started last September. A week in the boreal forest of the Canadian wilderness refreshes my soul.

But this time a mild, curious concern had set in. The one pair of non-insulated boots had gone missing. I rooted around through all the tents, sleeping bags, and other camping gear that was stowed in our garage. I checked our vehicles. I scratched my head (one of my favorite things to do when I am perplexed). Those old boots were not to be found.

Now this particular pair of boots had a history. They had been my muddy companions for seven or eight years now. Just a year ago they had both split and cracked just above the instep and I had repaired them the classic Arkansas way: with silicone and duct tape. Now each boot sported a stylish matching band of duct tape just above the ankle. In my mind these boots were unique. These boots had made tracks in Texas, Montana, New Brunswick, Manitoba, and Ontario, not to mention a number of places here in Arkansas. Surely they would be good for one more trip.

But alas, no boots were to be found. I went outside to sit and think. Eventually it came to me that I had probably left the boots at the archery range about a month ago. It began to appear that my good old boots were long gone.

I went inside to share this with Linda, who had noticed me going out and coming in with more than the usual frequency. She remembered the boots, having rolled her eyes a few months ago upon seeing my duct-tape fashion statement. “Maybe it’s a sign,” she hinted, “that it might be time for a new pair of boots.”

I am always the last one to admit when I need new clothes, even when it’s hunting boots. But next week when I get paid, it’s off to the farm store for a new pair, and I plan to break them in with a trip to the North woods, making new tracks and new memories.

Blessings,
Rev

Maundy Thursday

2008-03-20T08:14:00.000-07:00

It is the night before the crucifixion. Jesus is in the upper room with his disciples, in intimate conversation. In preparation for Passover, Jerusalem is thronged with people. Jesus has gone to Bethany to raise his friend Lazarus from the dead, an act which will precipitate the plot for his own death. The chief priests put word out on the street to look for him so they can arrest him, not knowing that Jesus would ride into town in a Palm Sunday parade. No one takes his life; he lays it down for all.

This Passover, Jesus and the Twelve withdraw to the upper room, away from the crowds and commotion on the street. Jesus will preside over the seder meal as head of the table. At the beginning of the meal he lifts the matzah bread to heaven and pronounces the traditional Hebrew blessing: "Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth." But then he does something new. As he breaks the bread and begins to give it to his disciples, he says, "This is my body, which is given for you. Eat this in remembrance of me."

Lifted up, blessed, broken, and given for all.

Later in the meal when the third cup of wine, the Cup of Redemption, is filled, he lifts it up and likewise gives thanks in the traditional manner: "Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth the fruit of the vine." And once again he does something new: "This cup is the New Covenant in my blood. Drink from it, all of you. Do this in remembrance of me."

Salvation. Deliverance. Community. Sacrifice. New and everlasting life.

We celebrate Holy Communion often and regularly at our church, but the celebration on this night in Holy Week is perhaps the most special. A few years ago something happend that shed a whole new light on it for me.

It was a Sunday night afer I had taught my Sunday night class. It was late and everyone had gone home. It had been a long Sunday but a very good day. I walked through the building as I usually do at the end of a day, turning down thermostats, turning out lights and making sure all the doors were locked. As I walked in the sanctuary I noticed that the little glass cups from the morning's Communion were still there, standing up along the chancel rail as if in formation. Our people had been a little sloppy that morning, and some of the juice had been spattered about. There were little drops along the wooden rail like blood on the doorposts of the Hebrews. In the bottom of each little cup was a crimson spot where the last dregs of the precious liquid lay. Since I didn't want that grape juice to stay in the cups overnight, I decided to take them into the kitchen and wash them.

I didn't mind. I felt I would enjoy the quiet time in the kitchen: No phone ringing, no TV blaring.

As I spread out the cups to wash them I thought of putting them in the dishasher but decided against it. It seemed to me the best way to wash them was one by one, picking up each one individually and washing it, then turning it over to dry.

As I got started I began to think about the medieval monk named Brother Lawrence. Brother Lawrence was a very godly man, a person who had given it all to go and live in a monastery and serve God fulltime all his days. He took his vows, made his commitment, got his training and when he finally was assigned a monastery he landed in the kitchen. Now the kitchen was the last place Brother Lawrence wanted to be. He must have said, "Oh I could be so much more useful for God than in this kitchen, peeling potatoes and washing dishes and cutting cabbage and boiling onions! Why me? Why here?"

We all want to be great for God and sometimes we think we ought to choose our place of service. But we forget that even Jesus showed his greatness not in conquest but on a cross; not by ruling but by serving; not by commanding armies but by washing the disciples' feet; not by lording over others but by giving his life for others. Brother Lawrence learned to practice the presence of God wherever God put him, and he found God in the kitchen. Years later St. Teresa would tell us that she, too, found God "among the pots and pans." Likewise, that night I found God unexpectedly among the dozens of tiny shot glasses stained with grape juice.

What happened was this: as I picked them up and began to wash them one by one, I counted them. There were about 110. I thought there ought to be more, and I was a little disappointed in the number. But as I continued to wash them and place them on the towel to dry, the total number became less and less important. Gradually the cups began to look different to me, and as I handled them individually I began to look closely at each little cup. It dawned on me that each and every cup represented a life, a person, a human being, someone I know, someone for whom Christ died. Suddenly the total number didn't seem to matter that much. What mattered the most at that moment was each individual little cup.

We've all heard it said that sometimes we can't see the forest for the trees. But the reverse is also true: sometimes we can't see the trees for the forest! We see the numbers and the whole but we overlook the precious individuals that it contains.

I'm glad now that we have the little cups, and that we serve Holy Communion individually, one by one. Christ died not just for the world or for the Church but for each life, each soul, saying to each one, "This is my body, given for YOU!" There is a cup of salvation with your name on it. Thanks be to God!

Blessings,
Rev

What Would Jesus Drive?

2008-03-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

Recently here in Conway a number of automobile enthusiasts got together and formed something called the Christian Car Club, Conway Chapter. There is already a very active Christian Motorcyclists Association, and now there are a number of local clubs made up of members who love Jesus and love their cars. We get together for fun and sharing, and also to conduct very interesting car shows and bear witness to our faith in the process.

Some of our members have some very beautiful, impeccably restored antique autos. It is amazing the amount of time, effort, and tender loving care that goes into restoring a vintage automobile. Not long ago at one of our shows a member was speaking to a group of at-risk youth and using this as a metaphor to illustrate the experience of spiritual rebirth.

Showing a picture of a typical unrestored antique, it is evident that this car has a lot of miles on it, needs an extraordinary amount of work, and that nobody would want it unless they could see beyond all the rust and dents and visualize its potential and intrinsic value. But the dedicated restorer goes to work and the result is nothing short of breathtaking. This is how God works in us, our member said, and for us to cooperate in the endeavor it is helpful to have a service manual (The Bible).

Our club members have baseball hats emblazoned with the logo: WWJD? What Would Jesus Drive? In Holy Week He entered Jerusalem riding on a donkey. I wonder what He would choose today? Something to think about.
Wishing everyone a blessed Holy Week and Easter,
Rev

Bowmaking 101

2008-03-09T17:48:00.000-07:00

Many years ago I became infatuated with the bowyer's art. Archery and sailing have to be among the most ancient of primitive technologies, and they will never cease to fascinate me.

My first bow was a long, graceful recurve built by a local craftsman down in Mississippi. From one of the old bowyers, whose breed we once thought was dying out, he had learned how to laminate layers of wood, creating a perfect pre-bend in the limbs, and to time them perfectly by patient shaving of the limbs in all the right places. There is more than technology at stake here: there is a practiced "feel" and a trained eye that work together to produce a beautiful, functional piece of archery equipment.

I learned bowmaking from some of the masters, both by reading them and by talking with them and observing their art. It is a fascinating process: at some point the material in the bowyer's hand ceases to be a blank piece of wood and starts to be a bow. It is hard to pinpoint just where in the process this occurs. We just know that it does. And what a joy when the limbs, having been shaped with watchfulness and care, spring to life and leap forward in perfect unison, propelling an arrow through the air.

Making bows, working with my hands, is therapeutic for me since my day-to-day work is in the realm of mind and spirit. I enjoy both the process and the finished product, and while making a bow I often think of God's work in us. I can see God as a master bowyer, working with some pretty rough material. Strong, seasoned hands work the material with great patience and skill. In his mind's eye he can see the desired result, and in the process many transformational changes will occur. In the end the bowyer will smile with satisfaction, and he will hold in his hand the result of his labors. What was once a rough piece of material has been transformed with care into a graceful, functional instrument that is useful for good work.

The Bible says we are God's craftsmanship. The Greek word here is poema, or masterpiece. Let's look with awe and wonder at the beautiful work of God in our lives. May we be willing to be shaped and formed by God's good hands.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem,
Rev Buck

The Lion and the Lamb

2008-02-26T20:50:00.000-08:00

"March: it comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb." So they say, and so it goes. True to form, March is coming in windy and cold. Hopefully by Easter Sunday at the end of the month, our Arkansas weather will have more placid, warm, lamb-like qualities.

By the end of March the forty days of Lent will give way to the Great Fifty Days of Easter. In the process we join the journey of Jesus, who is known in Scripture as both Lion and Lamb.

In Christian tradition, Jesus is known as the Lion of Judah. Being from the tribe of Judah which had always been symbolized by the great lion, Jesus is shown in the book of Revelation as its representative chosen to break the seven seals and open the heavenly scrolls (Revelation 5.5).

Jesus is also known as "the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (John 1:29)." In John's Gospel the first Good Friday is the Day of Preparation, and Jesus dies at the very hour that the Passover lamb is slain. The Lamb, for centuries the powerful symbol of liberation/salvation/deliverance for Israel, now becomes the offer of salvation not only for Israel but for the whole world.

Indeed, the Lion becomes the Lamb in the last days: "Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing in the center of the throne...He came and took the scroll from the right hand of him who sat on the throne...and they sang a new song: Worthy is the Lamb who was slain...(Rev. 5:6-11)!"

The Lion and the Lamb. Somehow they coexist in our souls, and someday they will lie down together in peace.

Blessings,
Rev

Waiting for Fair Winds

2008-02-23T07:04:00.000-08:00

The month of March, soon to come, brings with it many promises: Easter, turkey season, and good sailing weather to name a few. Here is the missus (Linda) at the helm of our 22 foot vintage sailboat Anastasia. Built in 1979, Anastasia will soon be 30 years old and is in very good shape. We just acquired her at the end of last summer and have not yet had the chance to perfrom the traditional renaming/Christening ritual. Right now it is cold and rainy in Arkansas, but soon we will perform the ancient ritual complete with an invocation to the four winds and anointing with champagne. Then her new name, which means Resurrection in Greek, will be proudly displayed.

I have loved sailing ever since living in New Orleans for seminary and learning to sail on Lake Ponchartrain. Jesus was referring to the Spirit when He reminded Nicodemus, "The wind blows where it will (John 3:8)." He had been going about making things new: giving Simon a new name, changing water into wine, and promising new birth and new life to a religious elder. Such is the work of God, as we wait for the fair winds of spring.
Rev Buck

He Who Shoots the Stars

2008-02-22T10:33:00.000-08:00

Hi and welcome to my blog. I would like to open my blog with a mental image which first came to my attention while reading Henri J.M. Nouwen's book, Can You Drink the Cup?:
"I am reminded of Philip Sears's powerful sculpture of Pumunangwet, the Native American at the Fruitlands Museums in Harvard, Massachusetts. He stands with his beautifully stretched naked body, girded with a loincloth, reaching to the heavens with his bow high above him in his left hand while his right hand still holds the memory of the arrow that just left for the stars. He is totally self-possessed, solidly rooted on the earth, and totally free to aim far beyond himself. He knows who he is. He is proud to be a lonesome warrior called to fulfill a sacred task. He truly holds his own."

You might want to Google "Pumunangwet" ("He Who Shoots the Stars") and take a look at that magnificent sculpture. What a beautiful archetype for the spiritual journey.
Blessings,
Rev Buck