For the past seven years, the congregation I serve has sought to help individuals through our Community Care Fund. We unabashedly help people with rent, light bills, health care costs, food, etc. It is one of the ways we minister to our surrounding community.
The other day, a young woman drove around and around Cat Spring centering on the church. It was Friday, and our offices are closed. I was out washing my car, and after seeing her drive around three times, I flagged her down and asked if I could help her.
She said she was trying to get to the church to ask for assistance, but the church was closed. I informed her I was the pastor and offered to help her. She told me her need, and I talked her through the steps to apply for funds. She went on her way, and I awaited her request.
In the next few days as I waited, a thought entered into my head. In all the time we have been helping others, it occurred to me that I had never witnessed to a single person we have helped. Honestly and sadly. I mean, I've handed out rent checks on behalf of the church. I've handed out checks to light companies on behalf of the church, but in so doing, I had never looked those whom we were helping right in the eye and asked, "Do you know why we are doing what we are doing?" Never did I even think to tell them this money was not just money--it was a gift through us from God. It was God's way of reaching out to that person at that particular time and saying, "I will take care of you. I will use my church to do so. Know my love through these people."
I have sense resolved to do a better job of this. Folks need to know why we do what we do. A handout is just a handout. It may or may not make a difference in someone's life. Many will need again. But, if we tie such things to God's love...if we tie such things to helping them know God cares...that can truly make a difference.
I hope to share with Sherry these thoughts in person. But I will be going on vacation shortly. I hope to see her today, but I am preparing this letter to include with her check as well.
Dear Sherry,
I hope I am not being too forward in writing this letter to you. I have only met you briefly and spoken to you on the phone a couple of times. I barely know your situation in life much less what you believe and what you do.
But I feel compelled to write these words because I don't want our assistance to you to come across as a "Here's your check. Good luck." sort of thing. Far from it.
As a church, we believe it is our calling to reach out with the good news of Jesus Christ. We know this takes place in many and various ways. Sometimes it is through the words of a sermon. Sometimes it's through the kind words of a friend or stranger. Sometimes it's through a gift of money or helping someone in need. It is our desire to use whatever means we can to convey to others how much God loves them and cares for them.
It is in this Spirit that we are helping you with your rent. We do not want this to be seen as a handout. We want this to be seen as God's way of coming to you during this difficult time and saying, "I care about you. I care about your family. I love you, and I am using my people at this church to provide for you during this time. Never lose hope that I am always watching over you. I will be with you always."
I hope that you can see this gift in this light. We ask for nothing in return, and I mean that, nothing. We don't require you to worship with us. We don't ask for repayment. We will not twist your arm and make you believe in Christ if you don't. We simply want you to know Christ's care, compassion, and love. May this check represent that to you.
God's peace be with you.
Sincerely,
Rev. Kevin Haug
St. John Lutheran Church of Cat Spring, TX
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Are You Really Free?
Coming off this July 4th weekend and reading several Christian blogs on freedom, I decided to jump into the fray.
And I'm not going to be nice.
You and I are not free.
There, I said it. I suppose I must defend it. Not too difficult.
If you think you are totally free, tell the folks at the airport you refuse to go through airport security.
If you think you have absolute freedom, tell the car dealership you are going to take a desired car off the lot without paying for it.
If you think you have freedom, drive that sports car through a school zone with a sheriff's deputy clocking your speed.
Need I go on?
The truth of our lives, at least in civilization, is we are bound by certain laws and boundaries. Cross them, and you get in trouble. Stay within them, and you are basically left alone. But, a boundary means a reduction in freedom, plain and simple.
Some might argue this is a bad thing. We should strive to be completely free so that we achieve self-fulfillment.
Really? Is this how we are truly supposed to operate?
Should I drop my rule about letting my kids run in the street so that they can be self fulfilled and be completely free? Should I allow my kids to hit and hurt each other as they try to "share" their toys?
No. In order to have some sort of safety, we must have rules. We must have boundaries. Within those boundaries, we have freedom to grow and thrive and experience joy. Without those boundaries, we must be constantly looking over our shoulder to see who or what is going to get us next.
As a Lutheran Christian, we hold the dynamic of freedom and boundary in dynamic tension. We know and understand there is nothing we can do to earn God's favor or love. We know and understand there is nothing we can do to earn salvation. These things come freely as a gift from God through Jesus Christ. There is something tremendously liberating in knowing this. I no longer have to worry about following every jot and tittle in the rules. I no longer have to worry about being good enough. I don't have to burden myself with guilt or anxiety wondering if God's going to strike me down at any particular moment because I have erred--the good German, Lutheran word for that is angst, btw.
St. Paul writes about it this way in the book of Galatians chapter 3 verses 24-26: 24Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. 25But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, 26for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith.
If you read that as I do, you see that the law no longer condemns us or threatens us or will cause us any harm. God no longer will zap you if you stray outside the boundaries. Therefore, we are free! Completely and utterly free! We no longer have to follow the law or adhere to the boundaries!
But is doing so such a good idea? Just because we can, does that mean we should?
Some argue that because we have this freedom, we no longer worry about the law (God's boundaries) what-so-ever. But that is not the case. In the history of Christianity, this is called anti-nomianism--against the law. It is a heresy of monumental proportions. For the law still has a place. The law still helps to govern and lead us in the right pathways. And we follow it, not out of fear but out of obedience.
That's a word which strikes fear into some: obedience. Giving up one's own self-determination. Giving up one's own destiny. Subjecting one's self to another.
But isn't this what we do when we bind ourselves to Jesus Christ? Isn't this what we do when we call ourselves Christian? Don't we give up the freedom we know we have to serve, to follow, to proclaim the one who freed us from condemnation?
This is at the heart of Luther's comment when he said, "A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject of all, subject to all."
So, are you really free?
Yes.
And no.
At least if we are truthful with ourselves.
And I'm not going to be nice.
You and I are not free.
There, I said it. I suppose I must defend it. Not too difficult.
If you think you are totally free, tell the folks at the airport you refuse to go through airport security.
If you think you have absolute freedom, tell the car dealership you are going to take a desired car off the lot without paying for it.
If you think you have freedom, drive that sports car through a school zone with a sheriff's deputy clocking your speed.
Need I go on?
The truth of our lives, at least in civilization, is we are bound by certain laws and boundaries. Cross them, and you get in trouble. Stay within them, and you are basically left alone. But, a boundary means a reduction in freedom, plain and simple.
Some might argue this is a bad thing. We should strive to be completely free so that we achieve self-fulfillment.
Really? Is this how we are truly supposed to operate?
Should I drop my rule about letting my kids run in the street so that they can be self fulfilled and be completely free? Should I allow my kids to hit and hurt each other as they try to "share" their toys?
No. In order to have some sort of safety, we must have rules. We must have boundaries. Within those boundaries, we have freedom to grow and thrive and experience joy. Without those boundaries, we must be constantly looking over our shoulder to see who or what is going to get us next.
As a Lutheran Christian, we hold the dynamic of freedom and boundary in dynamic tension. We know and understand there is nothing we can do to earn God's favor or love. We know and understand there is nothing we can do to earn salvation. These things come freely as a gift from God through Jesus Christ. There is something tremendously liberating in knowing this. I no longer have to worry about following every jot and tittle in the rules. I no longer have to worry about being good enough. I don't have to burden myself with guilt or anxiety wondering if God's going to strike me down at any particular moment because I have erred--the good German, Lutheran word for that is angst, btw.
St. Paul writes about it this way in the book of Galatians chapter 3 verses 24-26: 24Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. 25But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, 26for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith.
If you read that as I do, you see that the law no longer condemns us or threatens us or will cause us any harm. God no longer will zap you if you stray outside the boundaries. Therefore, we are free! Completely and utterly free! We no longer have to follow the law or adhere to the boundaries!
But is doing so such a good idea? Just because we can, does that mean we should?
Some argue that because we have this freedom, we no longer worry about the law (God's boundaries) what-so-ever. But that is not the case. In the history of Christianity, this is called anti-nomianism--against the law. It is a heresy of monumental proportions. For the law still has a place. The law still helps to govern and lead us in the right pathways. And we follow it, not out of fear but out of obedience.
That's a word which strikes fear into some: obedience. Giving up one's own self-determination. Giving up one's own destiny. Subjecting one's self to another.
But isn't this what we do when we bind ourselves to Jesus Christ? Isn't this what we do when we call ourselves Christian? Don't we give up the freedom we know we have to serve, to follow, to proclaim the one who freed us from condemnation?
This is at the heart of Luther's comment when he said, "A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject of all, subject to all."
So, are you really free?
Yes.
And no.
At least if we are truthful with ourselves.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Sermon Delivered July 3, 2011
I remember taking a social psychology course in college. I even remember the name of the professor: Dr. Hiner. I wish I could tell you that I actually remembered what I learned in that course, but I’ve managed to have forgotten it in the last 17 years. But even though I don’t remember the content of that class, I do remember something the class taught me about human nature.
One day, our professor walked in sporting a cast from his shoulder to his wrist. Of course, the entire class’ curiosity was aroused at seeing our professor in this manner. The prof. knew he had some explaining to do, and he told us the story almost immediately.
Dr. Hiner said, "During the storm we had this weekend, a pretty good sized tree limb got knocked out of the tree next to my house. The limb was so big it didn’t fall totally to the ground. Part of it was resting on the roof of my house. My son, his friend, and I went out to at least get this thing off of the roof and completely on the ground. I climbed up onto the roof of my house. My son and his friend grabbed the bottom part and started pulling. I stood on the roof and started pushing."
Dr. Hiner continued, "As I stood there pushing, I began thinking, ‘This isn’t a good idea.’ And as the tree started to move a little, I thought to myself again, ‘This really isn’t a good idea.’ Suddenly, the tree gave way, and I followed it off the roof and broke my arm."
I can’t remember if we sat in stunned silence at that moment or if as a class we laughed. What I do remember is thinking, "Here is a guy with a PhD. He’s supposed to have above average intelligence, and yet, he stood on top of a roof and pushed a tree limb off knowing this wasn’t a good idea." But then I paused before I went any further because I know I’ve done many similar things.
Perhaps you have too. Perhaps you have found yourself in a situation where you knew, you just knew you were doing something that wasn’t quite right. You knew, you just knew it would be better for you to stop doing what you were doing, but you didn’t. You kept going and doing when your mind was screaming at you, "STOP!" Anyone here this morning ever have that experience?
I remember the last time this happened to me. It was a couple of weeks before Christmas. There was one strand of lights on the parsonage that wasn’t fully on. I was bound and determined to get all the lights functioning. I pulled out my ladder. I climbed up on it, and I proceeded to check each light bulb one by one to find the culprit keeping my lights from functioning properly. Suddenly, I found the defective bulb, but upon closer inspection, the bulb wasn’t defective. One of the wires which went directly into the bulb holder had somehow been cut. The problem wasn’t the bulb, but the wiring. "No problem," I thought to myself. "Just a quick snip and tie, and I’ll have the rest of the lights doing what they are supposed to be doing."
At that moment, I realized I didn’t have a wire cutter with me, so I reached in my pocket for my pocket knife. I thought for a moment that I was missing something. But instead of heeding that voice, I reached up and began to slice through the wire with my knife. Did you know it’s a very good idea to unplug Christmas lights after you’ve found a split wire and plan to cut them? Did you also know that it hurts like h-e-double hockey sticks when you get shocked into this realization? Oh, I don’t know if the entire neighborhood heard me scream or not, but I guarantee you, from now on, if I ever need to cut a Christmas light wire, I’ll diagnose, cut the power, and then operate.
And the thing is, I knew better. I knew what I should be doing. I had the voice warning me, and I still didn’t heed it. I knew what to do, but I just couldn’t do it. From the reactions of most of you earlier, I see that you are familiar with such a phenomena. You too know what it means to know what you are supposed to do, and yet you also know how difficult it is to do it.
Folks, we’re not the only ones to whom this happens. Take a quick read of our second lesson once again this morning and listen to the words of St. Paul, "15I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate." Listen to that statement one more time, "15I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate."
Paul knows what it means to stand on top of the house pushing a tree, knowing it is not a good idea, and still proceeding to push. Paul knows what it means to have a little voice saying, "Stop, you are missing something," and refusing to hear that voice and continuing on. Paul articulates it beautifully saying that he knows the right thing. He knows what he wants to do, but he does the exact opposite. His mind leads him in the right path, but his actions simply do not follow. "I don’t understand it," Paul says.
And then he goes further. Paul connects this to following God’s law and God’s commands. He says, "18For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. 19For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. 20Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. 21 So I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. 22For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, 23but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members."
Paul is unabashed. He says, "I can will with my mind what is right. I can talk about the right thing to do. I can picture it up in my head, but when the rubber hits the road, I can’t do it." Paul continues, "I want to do good. I really, really want to do good. I want to say the right things. I want to do the right things. I want to lead as an example of holiness and righteousness. In the deep recesses of my mind and heart, I delight in the law of God. I want to follow it. I want to put it into practice because I know it’s the right thing to do, but when I start trying to do it, I fail. When I try to follow God, when I try to follow Jesus Christ, suddenly I find resistence within myself. Part of me rebels against doing what I know is right, so I know that part of me is not governed by God. Part of me is governed by sin. No matter how hard I try, I cannot overcome it."
Can you sympathize with Paul at this point? Can you understand where he is coming from? Can you also say that you know what the right thing to do is? Can you also say that deep down, you want to do what Christ commands? Can you also say that deep down you want to put less emphasis on material possessions and instead more emphasis on living a simple life? Can you also say that you want to spend more time in prayer and study but instead find yourself carried away by the business of life? Can you say that you want to spend more time being a better Christian only to find yourself caught up in the ways of this world?
If you do, you understand Paul. You understand exactly what he is wrestling with, and you understand Paul’s frustration with himself. You understand because you feel it to. You want to do what is right, but you become more and more frustrated when you just can’t do it.
So Paul screams out, "24Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?" I can’t escape this vicious cycle. No matter how hard I try, I’m continually caught up within it. Is there any escape?
And Paul answers his own question, "25Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, with my mind I am a slave to the law of God, but with my flesh I am a slave to the law of sin."
Yes, Jesus saves us from this cycle. Through His forgiveness, He saves us. We will never break out of this cycle this side of heaven. In good Lutheran terms, we will stay both saint and sinner for all our living days. But we know that it is Christ who will have the last word, who will redeem this sinful self of ours, and we can rejoice and be glad in this. Amen.
One day, our professor walked in sporting a cast from his shoulder to his wrist. Of course, the entire class’ curiosity was aroused at seeing our professor in this manner. The prof. knew he had some explaining to do, and he told us the story almost immediately.
Dr. Hiner said, "During the storm we had this weekend, a pretty good sized tree limb got knocked out of the tree next to my house. The limb was so big it didn’t fall totally to the ground. Part of it was resting on the roof of my house. My son, his friend, and I went out to at least get this thing off of the roof and completely on the ground. I climbed up onto the roof of my house. My son and his friend grabbed the bottom part and started pulling. I stood on the roof and started pushing."
Dr. Hiner continued, "As I stood there pushing, I began thinking, ‘This isn’t a good idea.’ And as the tree started to move a little, I thought to myself again, ‘This really isn’t a good idea.’ Suddenly, the tree gave way, and I followed it off the roof and broke my arm."
I can’t remember if we sat in stunned silence at that moment or if as a class we laughed. What I do remember is thinking, "Here is a guy with a PhD. He’s supposed to have above average intelligence, and yet, he stood on top of a roof and pushed a tree limb off knowing this wasn’t a good idea." But then I paused before I went any further because I know I’ve done many similar things.
Perhaps you have too. Perhaps you have found yourself in a situation where you knew, you just knew you were doing something that wasn’t quite right. You knew, you just knew it would be better for you to stop doing what you were doing, but you didn’t. You kept going and doing when your mind was screaming at you, "STOP!" Anyone here this morning ever have that experience?
I remember the last time this happened to me. It was a couple of weeks before Christmas. There was one strand of lights on the parsonage that wasn’t fully on. I was bound and determined to get all the lights functioning. I pulled out my ladder. I climbed up on it, and I proceeded to check each light bulb one by one to find the culprit keeping my lights from functioning properly. Suddenly, I found the defective bulb, but upon closer inspection, the bulb wasn’t defective. One of the wires which went directly into the bulb holder had somehow been cut. The problem wasn’t the bulb, but the wiring. "No problem," I thought to myself. "Just a quick snip and tie, and I’ll have the rest of the lights doing what they are supposed to be doing."
At that moment, I realized I didn’t have a wire cutter with me, so I reached in my pocket for my pocket knife. I thought for a moment that I was missing something. But instead of heeding that voice, I reached up and began to slice through the wire with my knife. Did you know it’s a very good idea to unplug Christmas lights after you’ve found a split wire and plan to cut them? Did you also know that it hurts like h-e-double hockey sticks when you get shocked into this realization? Oh, I don’t know if the entire neighborhood heard me scream or not, but I guarantee you, from now on, if I ever need to cut a Christmas light wire, I’ll diagnose, cut the power, and then operate.
And the thing is, I knew better. I knew what I should be doing. I had the voice warning me, and I still didn’t heed it. I knew what to do, but I just couldn’t do it. From the reactions of most of you earlier, I see that you are familiar with such a phenomena. You too know what it means to know what you are supposed to do, and yet you also know how difficult it is to do it.
Folks, we’re not the only ones to whom this happens. Take a quick read of our second lesson once again this morning and listen to the words of St. Paul, "15I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate." Listen to that statement one more time, "15I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate."
Paul knows what it means to stand on top of the house pushing a tree, knowing it is not a good idea, and still proceeding to push. Paul knows what it means to have a little voice saying, "Stop, you are missing something," and refusing to hear that voice and continuing on. Paul articulates it beautifully saying that he knows the right thing. He knows what he wants to do, but he does the exact opposite. His mind leads him in the right path, but his actions simply do not follow. "I don’t understand it," Paul says.
And then he goes further. Paul connects this to following God’s law and God’s commands. He says, "18For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. 19For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. 20Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. 21 So I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. 22For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, 23but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members."
Paul is unabashed. He says, "I can will with my mind what is right. I can talk about the right thing to do. I can picture it up in my head, but when the rubber hits the road, I can’t do it." Paul continues, "I want to do good. I really, really want to do good. I want to say the right things. I want to do the right things. I want to lead as an example of holiness and righteousness. In the deep recesses of my mind and heart, I delight in the law of God. I want to follow it. I want to put it into practice because I know it’s the right thing to do, but when I start trying to do it, I fail. When I try to follow God, when I try to follow Jesus Christ, suddenly I find resistence within myself. Part of me rebels against doing what I know is right, so I know that part of me is not governed by God. Part of me is governed by sin. No matter how hard I try, I cannot overcome it."
Can you sympathize with Paul at this point? Can you understand where he is coming from? Can you also say that you know what the right thing to do is? Can you also say that deep down, you want to do what Christ commands? Can you also say that deep down you want to put less emphasis on material possessions and instead more emphasis on living a simple life? Can you also say that you want to spend more time in prayer and study but instead find yourself carried away by the business of life? Can you say that you want to spend more time being a better Christian only to find yourself caught up in the ways of this world?
If you do, you understand Paul. You understand exactly what he is wrestling with, and you understand Paul’s frustration with himself. You understand because you feel it to. You want to do what is right, but you become more and more frustrated when you just can’t do it.
So Paul screams out, "24Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?" I can’t escape this vicious cycle. No matter how hard I try, I’m continually caught up within it. Is there any escape?
And Paul answers his own question, "25Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, with my mind I am a slave to the law of God, but with my flesh I am a slave to the law of sin."
Yes, Jesus saves us from this cycle. Through His forgiveness, He saves us. We will never break out of this cycle this side of heaven. In good Lutheran terms, we will stay both saint and sinner for all our living days. But we know that it is Christ who will have the last word, who will redeem this sinful self of ours, and we can rejoice and be glad in this. Amen.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
I Wonder How They'll Get Me Back
This morning, I modified an old joke I once heard and played it on my congregation.
As I finished my announcements, I began with this story, "Folks, I've been thinking about how we can take it to the next level when it comes to evangelism and making Christ visible in our community.
"And this weekend it came to me. I started thinking about how we could use that acre and a half that we own where the old Cat Spring School used to be.
"Have you ever seen the giant Christ statue in Rio de Janerio? What if we built a statue like that? What if it towered above the countryside and everyone who came though Cat Spring saw Christ towering above it? Cat Spring would become synonymous with Jesus, and folks would know we put it up there.
"Now, I know the idea might come across as a little strange, but I want us to consider it just a moment. I want us to think about it and contemplate it just a moment. Then I'm going to ask us to do a little something that isn't exactly Lutheran. We'll sit in silence for a moment to think about it, and if the Lord moves you to support such a project financially or otherwise, I'm going to ask you to stand up. Janet will play some inspirational music to help you decide whether to stand or not. So, please let's see how the Spirit moves us toward this project.
"Let us begin in silence."
After a few seconds of silence, I said, "O.K., Janet, will you please begin playing."
With that, she began playing the Star Spangled Banner.
After the eyes stopped rolling, the rolls of laughter started.
I wonder how they will get me back?
(Better not ask that question.)
Here's the original joke I based my antics upon:
The minister was preoccupied with thoughts of how he was going to ask the congregation to come up with more money than they were expecting for repairs to the church building.
Therefore, he was annoyed to find that the regular organist was sick and a substitute had been brought in at the last minute. The substitute wanted to know what to play.
"Here's a copy of the service," he said impatiently. "But you'll have to think of something to play after I make the announcement about the finances."
During the service, the minister paused and said, "Brothers and Sisters, we are in great difficulty; the roof repairs cost twice as much as we expected, and we need $4,000 more. Any of you who can pledge $100 or more, please stand up."
At that moment, the substitute organist played "The Star-Spangled Banner."
And that is how the substitute organist became the permanent organist!
As I finished my announcements, I began with this story, "Folks, I've been thinking about how we can take it to the next level when it comes to evangelism and making Christ visible in our community.
"And this weekend it came to me. I started thinking about how we could use that acre and a half that we own where the old Cat Spring School used to be.
"Have you ever seen the giant Christ statue in Rio de Janerio? What if we built a statue like that? What if it towered above the countryside and everyone who came though Cat Spring saw Christ towering above it? Cat Spring would become synonymous with Jesus, and folks would know we put it up there.
"Now, I know the idea might come across as a little strange, but I want us to consider it just a moment. I want us to think about it and contemplate it just a moment. Then I'm going to ask us to do a little something that isn't exactly Lutheran. We'll sit in silence for a moment to think about it, and if the Lord moves you to support such a project financially or otherwise, I'm going to ask you to stand up. Janet will play some inspirational music to help you decide whether to stand or not. So, please let's see how the Spirit moves us toward this project.
"Let us begin in silence."
After a few seconds of silence, I said, "O.K., Janet, will you please begin playing."
With that, she began playing the Star Spangled Banner.
After the eyes stopped rolling, the rolls of laughter started.
I wonder how they will get me back?
(Better not ask that question.)
Here's the original joke I based my antics upon:
The minister was preoccupied with thoughts of how he was going to ask the congregation to come up with more money than they were expecting for repairs to the church building.
Therefore, he was annoyed to find that the regular organist was sick and a substitute had been brought in at the last minute. The substitute wanted to know what to play.
"Here's a copy of the service," he said impatiently. "But you'll have to think of something to play after I make the announcement about the finances."
During the service, the minister paused and said, "Brothers and Sisters, we are in great difficulty; the roof repairs cost twice as much as we expected, and we need $4,000 more. Any of you who can pledge $100 or more, please stand up."
At that moment, the substitute organist played "The Star-Spangled Banner."
And that is how the substitute organist became the permanent organist!
Saturday, July 2, 2011
When Did Facebook Become Work?
Interestingly enough, I was asked to join Facebook through one of those "invitation" things sent through Hotmail by a church member. Perhaps it was a foreshadowing?
It wasn't long until I started reconnecting with lots of good friends from my past. Family members also showed up, and I truly felt like I was better able to stay in touch with many of them and what was going on in their lives. For a time, I spent way too much time on games and quizzes. Then, I finally settled into a routine of just keeping up with my friends and advertising these blog posts.
I decided to start a church Facebook page for the congregation I serve, and that also gave me an outlet for posting this blog. A few church members were added to my friends' list, but we haven't been "in each other's business" as the saying goes.
But then something interesting happened. I was added to an ELCA clergy group. Suddenly, I was being exposed to thoughts from clergy all over the U.S. Interesting conversations ensued, and notifications in my FB account went wild. Then, a few months later, my bishop added me to a Texas-Louisiana Gulf Coast Synod FB page. More notifications.
About a week or so ago, I took myself out of the FB page for ELCA clergy (more on that in a later post). Now, I am seriously considering removing my name from the TX-LA Synod page as well.
And it's not because I'm angry or upset or frustrated about anything that I posted or was called out about. It's about something deeper and more upsetting, at least as my thoughts go.
Yesterday evening, I began putting it all together. Facebook was becoming work. If you are like me, you have FB notifications on your cell phone. I have caught myself checking my phone more often than I would like. And I can't seem to resist checking a notification. If something pops up, I have to read. And more and more of those notifications are related to church work--not the local parish, mind you, but the greater going ons in the Synod and national church.
"Wait a second," I told myself, "work is following me wherever I go. There is absolutely no way to escape it since my cell phone goes everywhere I do. This is not good. Not at all. I need to be able to turn work off for extended periods of time. I don't need to be that connected."
So I have come to discover that I have a couple of choices. One: I must exercise more will-power and refuse to check notifications. That might be extremely hard for me, but I'm going to have to be more successful at it, or... two: I'm going to have to bug out of the larger church group.
I'm not getting off FB. It's been too much fun reconnecting with everyone, but I refuse to be constantly connected to work.
It wasn't long until I started reconnecting with lots of good friends from my past. Family members also showed up, and I truly felt like I was better able to stay in touch with many of them and what was going on in their lives. For a time, I spent way too much time on games and quizzes. Then, I finally settled into a routine of just keeping up with my friends and advertising these blog posts.
I decided to start a church Facebook page for the congregation I serve, and that also gave me an outlet for posting this blog. A few church members were added to my friends' list, but we haven't been "in each other's business" as the saying goes.
But then something interesting happened. I was added to an ELCA clergy group. Suddenly, I was being exposed to thoughts from clergy all over the U.S. Interesting conversations ensued, and notifications in my FB account went wild. Then, a few months later, my bishop added me to a Texas-Louisiana Gulf Coast Synod FB page. More notifications.
About a week or so ago, I took myself out of the FB page for ELCA clergy (more on that in a later post). Now, I am seriously considering removing my name from the TX-LA Synod page as well.
And it's not because I'm angry or upset or frustrated about anything that I posted or was called out about. It's about something deeper and more upsetting, at least as my thoughts go.
Yesterday evening, I began putting it all together. Facebook was becoming work. If you are like me, you have FB notifications on your cell phone. I have caught myself checking my phone more often than I would like. And I can't seem to resist checking a notification. If something pops up, I have to read. And more and more of those notifications are related to church work--not the local parish, mind you, but the greater going ons in the Synod and national church.
"Wait a second," I told myself, "work is following me wherever I go. There is absolutely no way to escape it since my cell phone goes everywhere I do. This is not good. Not at all. I need to be able to turn work off for extended periods of time. I don't need to be that connected."
So I have come to discover that I have a couple of choices. One: I must exercise more will-power and refuse to check notifications. That might be extremely hard for me, but I'm going to have to be more successful at it, or... two: I'm going to have to bug out of the larger church group.
I'm not getting off FB. It's been too much fun reconnecting with everyone, but I refuse to be constantly connected to work.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Let them Fly!
Read this article on Houston Chronicle's website about atheists flying banners over public events on July 4th:
http://blog.chron.com/believeitornot/2011/07/flying-over-texas-god-less-america-atheist-banners/
My response: Let them fly. Let them take to the skies to announce what they believe. I've no issue with that. Maybe, just maybe, it will incite enough Christians to get the word out about our faith as well.
Unfortunately, I can already see the headlines and hear the stories:
"Minister Denounces Atheist Fly-By's"
Brother Rye Chusss used very heated rhetoric to denounce atheist groups who paid to have messages flown over public events this July 4th.
"These people need to understand this is a Christian nation founded upon Christian principles. They are trying to rewrite history, and we should ignore them because they are all going to hell anyway!"
Chuss lambasted their use of signs including "God-LESS America" and "Atheism is Patriotic."
"God-LESS America, indeed!" Chuss iterated. "To think they would bastardize one of the great hymns of our country sung by senators of every state on 9/11. Do not pay any attention to these folks. It's not God-LESS America, it's God Bless America!"
Insert a few more comments by Brother Rye Chuss, the obligatory response by an atheist calling Chuss ignorant, and then add another comment by a mainline protestant pastor who doesn't know whether or not to defend the faith or be politically correct, and you have the rest of the article down pat.
Almost makes you want to puke, doesn't it.
But what if Christians responded in a different manner? What if Christians see the messages these atheists are putting forth and then decide to go in a different direction? What if they say, "We will not respond in kind to such a thing; however we will take bold and daring action."? What if Christians become motivated to go out into the world and engage their neighbors and their communities, praying for people, addressing their physical, mental, and spiritual needs? What if Christians show their churches are more than places for gathering for worship on Sunday mornings but are places where they are empowered to look, feel, and act differently in a world that increasingly uses and abuses people for its own interests?
If Christians were doing such things in their daily lives, would atheists even have a leg to stand on? What if our actions matched the actions of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ? Would there even be a debate as to what needed to be said?
I think not.
Upon seeing a sign, "God-Less America," those who knew our actions and our deeds would respond, "I don't think so. We have seen God bless Americans through the actions of the church and empowered Christians. I wouldn't like to even think about a country where God was absent."
So, let them fly.
Maybe, just maybe, those of us who believe will find inspiration.
http://blog.chron.com/believeitornot/2011/07/flying-over-texas-god-less-america-atheist-banners/
My response: Let them fly. Let them take to the skies to announce what they believe. I've no issue with that. Maybe, just maybe, it will incite enough Christians to get the word out about our faith as well.
Unfortunately, I can already see the headlines and hear the stories:
"Minister Denounces Atheist Fly-By's"
Brother Rye Chusss used very heated rhetoric to denounce atheist groups who paid to have messages flown over public events this July 4th.
"These people need to understand this is a Christian nation founded upon Christian principles. They are trying to rewrite history, and we should ignore them because they are all going to hell anyway!"
Chuss lambasted their use of signs including "God-LESS America" and "Atheism is Patriotic."
"God-LESS America, indeed!" Chuss iterated. "To think they would bastardize one of the great hymns of our country sung by senators of every state on 9/11. Do not pay any attention to these folks. It's not God-LESS America, it's God Bless America!"
Insert a few more comments by Brother Rye Chuss, the obligatory response by an atheist calling Chuss ignorant, and then add another comment by a mainline protestant pastor who doesn't know whether or not to defend the faith or be politically correct, and you have the rest of the article down pat.
Almost makes you want to puke, doesn't it.
But what if Christians responded in a different manner? What if Christians see the messages these atheists are putting forth and then decide to go in a different direction? What if they say, "We will not respond in kind to such a thing; however we will take bold and daring action."? What if Christians become motivated to go out into the world and engage their neighbors and their communities, praying for people, addressing their physical, mental, and spiritual needs? What if Christians show their churches are more than places for gathering for worship on Sunday mornings but are places where they are empowered to look, feel, and act differently in a world that increasingly uses and abuses people for its own interests?
If Christians were doing such things in their daily lives, would atheists even have a leg to stand on? What if our actions matched the actions of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ? Would there even be a debate as to what needed to be said?
I think not.
Upon seeing a sign, "God-Less America," those who knew our actions and our deeds would respond, "I don't think so. We have seen God bless Americans through the actions of the church and empowered Christians. I wouldn't like to even think about a country where God was absent."
So, let them fly.
Maybe, just maybe, those of us who believe will find inspiration.
Got a Better Idea
Caught this story about a group of hackers who are "declaring cyber war" against the city of Orlando, FL.
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/43558649/ns/technology_and_science-security/
Got a better idea.
One that might actually make an impact.
Let's get a group of 100,000 people who are hunger advocates, who believe that such a law is inhumane and unjust. Let's descend upon Orlando, FL en masse. Each of us needs to bring a couple of packages of food. Let's go to where the homeless and hungry congregate. We'll invite the police to be there as well. 100,000 of us will hand out food to the hungry and homeless at one time and invite ourselves to be arrested.
Non-violent, civil disobedience. Lifting up a principle worth being arrested for. Feeding the hungry. Feeding Jesus. And more in line with what Jesus called His followers to do. Very reminiscent of what is written in 1 Peter 2:
19For it is a credit to you if, being aware of God, you endure pain while suffering unjustly. 20If you endure when you are beaten for doing wrong, what credit is that? But if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval. 21For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps.
Better than cyber warfare, don't you think?
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/43558649/ns/technology_and_science-security/
Got a better idea.
One that might actually make an impact.
Let's get a group of 100,000 people who are hunger advocates, who believe that such a law is inhumane and unjust. Let's descend upon Orlando, FL en masse. Each of us needs to bring a couple of packages of food. Let's go to where the homeless and hungry congregate. We'll invite the police to be there as well. 100,000 of us will hand out food to the hungry and homeless at one time and invite ourselves to be arrested.
Non-violent, civil disobedience. Lifting up a principle worth being arrested for. Feeding the hungry. Feeding Jesus. And more in line with what Jesus called His followers to do. Very reminiscent of what is written in 1 Peter 2:
19For it is a credit to you if, being aware of God, you endure pain while suffering unjustly. 20If you endure when you are beaten for doing wrong, what credit is that? But if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval. 21For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps.
Better than cyber warfare, don't you think?
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