Why Are We Here?

A few months ago we stopped attending our church's contemporary service because I questioned some of the content in our congregation's worship music.  There's been a slow drift over the past couple of years toward bringing in popular secular music as a worship response.

Sure it's fun, and you can dance to it, but are we neglecting the gospel?  When I've shared my concerns I get mostly blank stares or half-hearted attempts to justify.  People automatically assume that I don't like contemporary Christian music.  Not true.

I'm not trying to be a spoilsport. It's just that my mouth can't sing "Lean on Me" when my heart, soul, and mind want to sing "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms."

Thus, it saddened me today to see the juxtaposition of Offeratory music between the contemporary and traditional services.  I wasn't at the contemporary service, but a sympathetic friend told me she thought of my decision this morning.  Since I wasn't there, I grabbed a bulletin from the 9:30 service and there it was.

In praise to our glorious Father in Heaven, our contemporary service offered "We are Here" by Alicia Keys (who sang it on the Today Show--so that makes it OK!)

We are here for all of us.

We are here for all of us.

That's why we are here, why we are here.

Good news indeed!

In contrast,  the traditional service responded to the Word of God with   "My Jesus, I Love Thee"

My Jesus I love thee, I know Thou art mine;

For Thee all the follies of sin I resign;

My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou;

If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.

What is our purpose?  What is our witness to the world?  Whose gospel do we preach?  What encouragement do we give to believers?  Go ahead and call me out of touch, a traditionalist, or whatever name you will.

I know why I'm here.

Encouragement for Tired Moms

I've been really tired lately.  It could be the change in weather and increase in pollen.  It could be the stress of stretching our budget.  It could also be the fact that some days my kids will only answer me in riddles, rhymes, and funny noises.

Me:  Where are your shoes?
#1 Son:  Did you sing the blues?
#2 Son: Ka-boing!!

I have given birth to the Marx brothers.

Anyway,  in the middle of a notebook filled with 3-year-old committee meeting notes and scribbles for a writing project I found a page titled, "Encouragement for Tired Moms."  Based on the margin notes these were verses my Facebook friends sent me when I needed some encouragement a couple of years ago. 

They're still good today. In fact, they're timeless.  Here are the verses that really gave me a boost. I'll share them with you.

In the day of my trouble I will call on you, for you will answer me.  (Psalm 86:7 NIV)

I will lift up my eyes to the hills-- From whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to be moved; He who keeps you will not slumber. (Psalm 121:1-3 NKJV)

I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.  (Jer. 31:25 NIV) Thanks, Cat 

He gives power to those who are tired and worn out; he offers strength to the weak. Even youths will become exhausted, and young men will give up. But those who wait on the LORD will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint. (Isa. 40:29-31 NLT)


Pile your troubles on God's shoulders - he'll carry your load, he'll help you out. He'll never let good people topple into ruin. (Psalm 55:22 The Message)

Shalom, y'all.

Bless This Mess

Credit: Vincelli Designs  http://vincellidesigns.com

I rarely see this phrase anymore, but it was big in the 1970’s. It seemed like every mom had a kitchen wall plaque reading “Bless This Mess”.  Were we an incredibly untidy generation of kids? Or did this sentiment address feelings about the mess our country was in: the last big recession? 

I’m feeling deep in the midst of a mess right now.  The current recession has hit my family hard and we’re looking at some tough choices this year.  Things are getting messy and I approached Ash Wednesday with a heart loaded down with worry.

But something else has been tickling the back of my mind.  Over at the Jesus Boat Blog we’ve been writing about the Psalms this month.  Our bloggers come from different backgrounds, but several of us are battling the economy.  The Psalms are teaching us that God is our stronghold in the midst of trouble.  The Psalmists lay out their troubles (and they are many) but never fail to give praise to God.  It’s an incredible act of defiance against trouble. 

I’m going to try here (and over at my Frugal Family Friend blog) to consciously look for and write about things to praise during the Lenten season.  I need to fix my eyes and thoughts on something other than the ever present bottom line.

To my surprise and delight, one of today’s daily readings was from Habakkuk.  I needed this today and that’s my first praise:  God speaks to us through his word.  He comes to us where we are, as we are, and lifts us up.

Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vine;
even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren;
even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation.
The Sovereign LORD is my strength!
He will make me as surefooted as a deer and bring me safely over the mountains.
(Habakkuk 3:17-19)

A Pretty Sorry Lot

“If all we get out of Christ is a little inspiration for a few short years, we're a pretty sorry lot.”  1 Cor. 14:19 The Message

What do you do when you’re a pastor who no longer believes in God?  Tufts University’s Center for Cognitive Studies confidentially interviewed five ministers who no longer believe in God.  An article, featuring the results of two interviews, appeared in our local newspaper last Sunday.

When I read the first interview, I thought, “Mister, you need to resign. Quit posing and quit the pulpit.”

I sought out researcher Daniel C. Dennett’s website and read the rest of the study.  Each interviewee was able to perform great feats of mental gymnastics that allow him to feel that he is a “believer,” although he doesn’t believe in anything but himself.

I’m not shocked, just saddened, and outraged.  Years ago, while attending a conference, I encountered this sort comfortable pluralism in a pastor my age.  I was surprised at how quickly he abandoned the truth of the gospel once a minor celebrity at the conference scoffed at the notion of a God who will, one day, pronounce judgement. [Yep, Jesus was pretty clear in Matthew 25]  I saw, that day, the infant “tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming.” (Eph. 4:14)

I was stunned then.  I’m not stunned anymore.

But I’m still outraged. As I read through the study I was ready to reach for some sackcloth and ashes.  “Repent,” I thought, heartbroken for their souls,  “Or at least have the integrity to resign and do something else.”

Do they themselves have doubts about continuing in ministry. Yes, but why abandon the paycheck?  And why give up that good feeling you get when you’re helping others.

But helping others to what?

At least one man questioned his own motives early on, but quickly found his conscience soothed when he asked, “Am I posing? Am I being less than authentic; less than honest?”

Yes, you are posing.  You are not “caught in a trap, cunningly designed” as the study declared.  And you’re not “brave” as the study proclaimed you to be.  You're lost. Terribly lost.

Yet, there is still hope for the lost. I know.  I was once lost too.

Giving Up

“What are you giving up for Lent?” 

I haven’t heard that question as much this year as in years past.  The practice of giving something up, of fasting, is what most people associate with Lent.  It’s a practice that I grapple with each year.  Should I fast from something?  What would it mean spiritually?  Would I fast alone--since it’s not a communal practice in any of the churches I’ve attended?

I never want to fast for the sake of fasting.  To do that would put fasting into the same category as New Year’s resolutions: easily made, easily broken. I don’t want a fast to become just a Lenten diet--abstaining from sweets and hoping to lose a pound or two.  I don’t have a good background in the spiritual discipline of fasting, so I’m unsure of how to fast so that it helps me grow closer to God.

So I did a little research.

Fasting is grounded in the scriptures that are read during Lent.  In liturgical churches, the verses read on the first Sunday of Lent are all from the story of Christ’s temptation.  After his baptism, Jesus fasted for 40 days and nights. (Matt 4:2) Jesus experienced deprivation, hunger, and temptation.  We identify with Christ’s suffering through fasting.

Food fasts are the most common type.  My Catholic friends don’t eat meat on Fridays and some parishes hold a “fish fry” fellowship on Friday nights.  Believers who fast from food--sweets, snacks, or entire meals--often donate the money they would have spent to charity.  

A second type of fast is to abstain from something that is done purely for pleasure, such as watching TV or clothes shopping.  Unlike food fasts there’s no physical reminder of the fast, which practitioners use to help them grow spiritually.  Therefore the choice of fast needs to have meaning.  Would I fast from TV to see if I could do it--to develop self-discipline?  Or would I just record the shows on my DVR to watch after Easter?  What’s tricky here is that Lent shouldn’t be something that causes Jesus to become the spoilsport or believers to grumble like a kid on 40-day restriction. The idea behind this type of fast is to eliminate some of the clutter from the schedule--to allow more space for the Sprit to move.

The most important component to fasting, and one that can be overlooked, is to find out what has power and authority in our lives, what causes us to sin.  A mom and local blogger has declared a fast from yelling at her kids.  Some bishops have advocated giving up texting, social networks, and online gaming--getting out of the virtual world and reconnecting with the self, with God, and with those physically present in our lives.  The concept here is to identify, confess, and root out sin in our lives so that the Lenten fast will continue past Easter and become part of our Christ-filled lives.

So what am I giving up for Lent?   I’m taking aim at one of my gluttonous habits.  I’m a habitual evening snacker, eating for no reason other than the pleasure of eating.  So I’m giving up my post-dinner handfuls of whatever I can root out of the pantry.  When I get the urge to chew I’m reminded to be thankful for ways that God has blessed me and conscious of those who have little to eat. I read my Bible.  I even write about fasting.  And hopefully, I won’t give up giving up when Lent is over.  The next step in this process is to decide how to turn my fast into a blessing for someone else, perhaps a donation to our local food pantry or Salvation Army.

So how about you? Are you ready to give up?

Throwing Rocks

I never realized how rocky the Appalachian mountains were until this week. My boys have hoisted heavy rocks, climbed boulders, and pocketed pebbles. However, their favorite thing to do with rocks is throw them: into the woods, off a ledge, down the slope, into the water. They can't get enough of this.

I was thinking last night about stone throwing in the Bible. David felled Goliath with a stone (at least my guys don't have slingshots--yet). Jesus saved the adulteress from the mob in the Temple, saying "Let him who is without sin among you, cast the first stone." A mob stoned Stephen, while Saul/Paul watched.

Our rock throwing adventures brought to mind something else: a service I attended a few years ago at a local messianic synagogue. Tashlich is a ceremony carried out on the afternoon of Rosh HaShannah or on the following day. Tashlich means "you will cast away" and during the service we symbolically cast off our sins. After a time of reflection and preparation we walked down to Tampa Bay, picking up small stones along the way.* We collected stones to symbolize sins. It was humbling to pocket each stone and feel the weight increase with each new addition. After a time of prayer and repentance we threw our stones into the bay--casting them off as far as we could throw. Those rocks were gone, never coming back, you couldn't have retrieved them from the bottom of the bay if you tried. My pockets felt empty and light.

As we threw our rocks, we remembered that God is faithful to forgive sins, that Jesus (Yeshua) died for our sins, and we meditated on the text for Tashlich: Micah 7:18-20.

Who is a God like You,
Pardoning iniquity
And passing over the transgression of the remnant of His heritage?

He does not retain His anger forever,
Because He delights in mercy.
¹⁹ He will again have compassion on us,
And will subdue our iniquities.

You will cast all our sins
Into the depths of the sea.
²⁰ You will give truth to Jacob
And mercy to Abraham,
Which You have sworn to our fathers
From days of old.

In all the times of confession, in all the worship services I've ever attended, I don't think I've ever felt as forgiven as I did on the shores of Tampa Bay. So much of our Protestant worship is abstract and emotional. It took the weight and feel of throwing rocks to really imprint one of the basic tenets of our faith.

Vacation's almost over. I'll be thinking about this on our final few rock-throwing days--thanking God and praising His holy name.

Shalom y'all.

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*Traditionally bread crumbs are cast into the water, or pockets emptied of lint, but some congregations use stones instead.

Flat Tire on the Shoulder of Life

Our Sunday drive didn't go quite as we'd planned. We were cruising through a construction zone, northbound on I-95, preparing for a quick stop in Brunswick, GA. The boys happily watched Kung Fu Panda on the portable DVD. The snacks were holding out. We only had about an hour to go to our destination--a hotel where we could spend the rest of the afternoon swimming and resting after the first leg of our trip.

We were making excellent time.

thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump

BW quickly threaded our minivan through the phalanx of barrels dividing the highway from the shoulder. I got out and looked at the back right tire. No problem there. I turned around and saw our flattened, shredded, smoking right front tire. Somewhere we'd picked up a large nail.

As I spoke with the AAA agent I realized that we were in probably the safest spot we could be in, given our situation: a construction barrier behind us, barrels to the side, a wide shoulder, and the mile marker and exit marker just ahead. We praised God for gently placing our damaged minivan in a barrel-sheltered cove.

A half hour later Joe arrived in his company pickup truck. He had all the necessary tools. He followed us to a gas station to add air to our spare tire. He shepherded us toward the local Sears. He even called me back to make sure we were OK.

3 1/2 hours later our newly aligned vehicle sported 4 new tires and we were on our way. We even made it to Savannah with time to swim. As we continued along the northbound lanes we both noticed that, for many miles, there was no safe place to pull off the road. Had our flat occured elsewhere, my family would have been in danger. Further, Brunswick was the only city where a major retailer was open on Sunday--for 80 miles in either direction. We'd stopped in the only place where our car could be fixed that day.

Skeptics might say that if God were really looking out for us, we'd never have had a flat tire. I disagree.

Nowhere in Scripture are we promised that this world will be easy. Our lives don't always go according to our plans. Unexpected nails flatten us with illness, job loss, death of loved ones, pain, heartache. But we serve a mighty God. When dangers surround and threaten us, he shelters us in the palm of his hand as he ministers and changes us.

I pray that I remember this the next time I'm stuck on the shoulder of life.