You may have heard of the wonderful ministry that is taking place through the efforts of SOTH members Jeff Morgan, Debbie Stone, Kelly Smith and many, many others.
Jeff is currently in Iraq and during a mission into one of the villages, he met a very special girl who needs our help. If you haven't heard the story, follow the link to our church website, www.sothumc.net, and follow the link from the front page --- you'll see the picture of "Baby Nora" there.
You'll also find a link to an incredible front page spread on this story in today's Atlanta Journal-Constitution. If you haven't gotten the paper, check it out through the link and you'll get all the details. This story is also being picked up by CNN (look for a possible story next week) and other media outlets.
At present, we're being flooded with calls and that's exactly what we want. For now, you can help primarily by making a contribution through pay pal on the church site, or by giving at our Christmas Eve worship services, where 100% of the proceeds will go to support our efforts for Baby Nora.
Thanks for taking the time to learn about what's happening. There will be an informational meeting at SOTH on Tuesday night, December 27th at 7pm. A representative of Childspring International will be on hand with us to talk about the application process for any families interested in hosting Baby Nora and family in their home.
Thanks in advance for all the wonderful things that you do for Christ through the mininstries of SOTH UMC.
Don't Forget our special Christmas Schedule:
Saturday Night, December 24 - Christmas Eve at Shepherd of the Hills
5:30 and 7:00 pm with communion and candlelight at both services. Childcare provided for all children age 4 and under.
Christmas Morning, Sunday, December 25th - Community Brunch and Kids' Time
Come out at 10a.m. Christmas morning for a special time of worship and fellowship. We'll provide brunch, followed by a time of caroling and a special message geared toward our children with a reading of the book, The Three Trees.
New Year's Day: Sunday, January 1, 2006
One service only -- 10a.m. We'll gather together for a great start to the New Year and service in the tradition of the Wesleyan Covenant Prayer.
Dec 22, 2005
Dec 21, 2005
Simeon
Luke 2:21, 25-30(a)
After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.
Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation… (NRSV)
Eight days after Jesus’ birth, Old Simeon’s dreams come true. Luke calls him “devout,” and one was has been “looking forward” for many, many years. We assume that Simeon is of an advanced age because of what’s implied in verse 26, “he would not see death before he had seen…” And then, once his faith is fulfilled in sight, Simeon seems resolved that the time of a more eternal calling has come. Master…servant…peace…word…eyes…salvation.
When Simeon is spoken of in church, it’s usually shortly after Christmas, not right before it. I suppose that certainly makes sense. Although his story, like Anna’s (keep going in Luke 2), is very powerful and compelling, I’ll admit that his story seems like a bit of a strange choice for our consideration just four days before Christmas.
I mean, Simeon is not to be found in my plastic, life-size, light-up, outdoor nativity scene. What about the Shepherds and Kings (or Magi, or Wise Men...whatever works for you) and Angels? What about Joseph and Mary and stables and cows and mangers and, “asleep on the hay?”
Christmas would not be Christmas without any of those figures. But Simeon represents something powerful and very necessary for the human heart. Simeon is hope and faith with staying power. His is not a chance encounter with the Messiah, it is a culmination and completion of a life-long faith.
Simeon gives us an incredible gift: the chance to glimpse what full-blown faith might look like if the sometimes-buried spark of belief that lies within our own hearts were to be nurtured and tended for a lifetime. Simeon shows us God’s marvelous and mysterious penchant for making himself known through the most unlikely of vessels, like tiny babies or little old men.
I met Simeon for myself in the summer of 2001. With the ink not quite dry on my just-acquired seminary degree and the shine from my brand new Emory alumni ring gleaming in the sun, I arrived on the pastoral staff at Wesley UMC as green as a fresh-cut pine.
If I am at all more seasoned today, Mr. Fred Jensen should receive credit, and he will forever have my gratitude. I’m sure that we met for the first time on a Tuesday morning, just after our Men’s Group breakfast, and it didn’t take long to know that he was a truly fascinating character and a man of deep and abiding faith.
Mr. Fred proved that big things really do come in small packages. Always the wonderful combination of dapper (quite the natty dresser) and chipper (even at 7 a.m.) the only things sharper than Mr. Fred’s shirt and bow-tie combinations were his amazing wit and voracious appetite for knowledge.
What I did not know at first was to what extent Mr. Fred planned to take me under his theological and spiritual wing. That was a very good place for a young, green preacher to be. Nearly every Tuesday morning for four years, Mr. Fred would bring me bundles of magazines and copies of articles extracted articles from his own library. Admittedly, I didn’t always see an obvious connection between some of the wide-ranging topics he wanted me to explore and my life and work as a pastor. Eventually, though, I came to understand. Mr. Fred was fascinated with everything in this amazing world that God had made and he wanted me to see the value in that kind of amazement. He knew a wonderful secret: if you want to see God, then you need to learn how to open your eyes and look…everywhere.
“You know, you’ve got to build your file,” he would always tell me, concerned that I would ever be at a loss for just the right sermon illustration on some future Sunday morning. He never failed to tell me, “if you read something good, remember that I want you to make a copy and hand it on to somebody else.” No knowledge should be lost, for it was all far too precious. Slowly, over time, he taught me that a pastor’s job, in large part, is to gather up all those God-pieces that float through the world around us and help put together the puzzle so that everybody can see the big picture. He knew and respected the mighty nature of that task. Because of Mr. Fred's witness, I do too.
We would spend time in conversation about the topic of the day, and before he left I would always receive the assurance that I was in his prayers. I know that I always was. I will always remember the warmth and earnest nature of his handshakes and hugs, and the gleam and fire of life that always shone in his eyes. That gleam remained unchanged throughout the many years of his life, even as his body aged and ultimately failed him.
Mr. Fred answered his eternal calling this week, and I sure do wish that I could talk theology with him over coffee this morning. Now that the answers to all of the questions have been found, I have to believe that Mr. Fred’s words might simply echo those of Simeon if he could give some final advice to this slightly-older preacher. Master… servant …peace … word… eyes… salvation. But I think there would be one more word, too. Look.
He leaves a wonderful wife of 55 years, an amazing family, and many, many friends. He will be dearly missed, but he would want us to look forward. That is what we will do. He would want us to look for “Emmanuel, God With Us” this Christmas, and that is what we will do, too. Incarnation happens in the most unlikely of places. 2000+ years ago it happened in a manger, in a stable, with Mary and Joseph and Shepherds and Angels, but for many years before that, God’s presence had been known through the witness of an old man who doggedly looked --- forward.
God really is with us. We only have to learn to look. May the peace of Christ be with you this season and into a wonderful 2006.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
BLOG NOTES: I want to invite everyone to use the “comments” section this week to post any words that you might have about those who have been “Simeon” or “Anna” to you in your own life. Use this space as a chance to honor those who have helped shape your faith and helped make God’s presence real and known in your own life. Thanks in advance for what you will share.
Also, note that there won’t be a blog entry next week. I’ll be traveling next Wednesday to see family and also the SOTH office will be closed, as is the tradition here during the week after Christmas. Look for a new, weekly entries to begin again on the first Wednesday in January. Thanks so much to all of you who take the time to read my ramblings, and for the ways that you have passed this site on to friends and family.
CHRISTMAS LIFE AT SOTH:
“Blue Christmas” worship, tonight at 7pm. Sometimes we can feel a sense of loss more than ever during times of holiday celebration. This meditative service will offer the hope of Christmas for all who are feeling the need for some extra encouragement this year. All are invited, and a time of fellowship and food will follow.
Christmas Eve Worship: 5:30 and 7:00 p.m. this Saturday night, December 24th. Communion and childcare for kids 4 and under at both services.
Community Christmas Brunch: Sunday morning, December 25th, 10 a.m. only. We’ll come together for a good meal and great fellowship, followed by Christmas carols, lighting the advent wreath and a Christmas message. Have a great family time together at home and then come on in to celebrate what the day is all about. Some have asked and -- yes, kids can wear their pj’s and bring a toy. Adults can only wear their pj’s if they’re the “Pink Nightmare” bunny ear ones that Ralphie had to wear in A Christmas Story. See you at Church!
After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.
Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation… (NRSV)
Eight days after Jesus’ birth, Old Simeon’s dreams come true. Luke calls him “devout,” and one was has been “looking forward” for many, many years. We assume that Simeon is of an advanced age because of what’s implied in verse 26, “he would not see death before he had seen…” And then, once his faith is fulfilled in sight, Simeon seems resolved that the time of a more eternal calling has come. Master…servant…peace…word…eyes…salvation.
When Simeon is spoken of in church, it’s usually shortly after Christmas, not right before it. I suppose that certainly makes sense. Although his story, like Anna’s (keep going in Luke 2), is very powerful and compelling, I’ll admit that his story seems like a bit of a strange choice for our consideration just four days before Christmas.
I mean, Simeon is not to be found in my plastic, life-size, light-up, outdoor nativity scene. What about the Shepherds and Kings (or Magi, or Wise Men...whatever works for you) and Angels? What about Joseph and Mary and stables and cows and mangers and, “asleep on the hay?”
Christmas would not be Christmas without any of those figures. But Simeon represents something powerful and very necessary for the human heart. Simeon is hope and faith with staying power. His is not a chance encounter with the Messiah, it is a culmination and completion of a life-long faith.
Simeon gives us an incredible gift: the chance to glimpse what full-blown faith might look like if the sometimes-buried spark of belief that lies within our own hearts were to be nurtured and tended for a lifetime. Simeon shows us God’s marvelous and mysterious penchant for making himself known through the most unlikely of vessels, like tiny babies or little old men.
I met Simeon for myself in the summer of 2001. With the ink not quite dry on my just-acquired seminary degree and the shine from my brand new Emory alumni ring gleaming in the sun, I arrived on the pastoral staff at Wesley UMC as green as a fresh-cut pine.
If I am at all more seasoned today, Mr. Fred Jensen should receive credit, and he will forever have my gratitude. I’m sure that we met for the first time on a Tuesday morning, just after our Men’s Group breakfast, and it didn’t take long to know that he was a truly fascinating character and a man of deep and abiding faith.
Mr. Fred proved that big things really do come in small packages. Always the wonderful combination of dapper (quite the natty dresser) and chipper (even at 7 a.m.) the only things sharper than Mr. Fred’s shirt and bow-tie combinations were his amazing wit and voracious appetite for knowledge.
What I did not know at first was to what extent Mr. Fred planned to take me under his theological and spiritual wing. That was a very good place for a young, green preacher to be. Nearly every Tuesday morning for four years, Mr. Fred would bring me bundles of magazines and copies of articles extracted articles from his own library. Admittedly, I didn’t always see an obvious connection between some of the wide-ranging topics he wanted me to explore and my life and work as a pastor. Eventually, though, I came to understand. Mr. Fred was fascinated with everything in this amazing world that God had made and he wanted me to see the value in that kind of amazement. He knew a wonderful secret: if you want to see God, then you need to learn how to open your eyes and look…everywhere.
“You know, you’ve got to build your file,” he would always tell me, concerned that I would ever be at a loss for just the right sermon illustration on some future Sunday morning. He never failed to tell me, “if you read something good, remember that I want you to make a copy and hand it on to somebody else.” No knowledge should be lost, for it was all far too precious. Slowly, over time, he taught me that a pastor’s job, in large part, is to gather up all those God-pieces that float through the world around us and help put together the puzzle so that everybody can see the big picture. He knew and respected the mighty nature of that task. Because of Mr. Fred's witness, I do too.
We would spend time in conversation about the topic of the day, and before he left I would always receive the assurance that I was in his prayers. I know that I always was. I will always remember the warmth and earnest nature of his handshakes and hugs, and the gleam and fire of life that always shone in his eyes. That gleam remained unchanged throughout the many years of his life, even as his body aged and ultimately failed him.
Mr. Fred answered his eternal calling this week, and I sure do wish that I could talk theology with him over coffee this morning. Now that the answers to all of the questions have been found, I have to believe that Mr. Fred’s words might simply echo those of Simeon if he could give some final advice to this slightly-older preacher. Master… servant …peace … word… eyes… salvation. But I think there would be one more word, too. Look.
He leaves a wonderful wife of 55 years, an amazing family, and many, many friends. He will be dearly missed, but he would want us to look forward. That is what we will do. He would want us to look for “Emmanuel, God With Us” this Christmas, and that is what we will do, too. Incarnation happens in the most unlikely of places. 2000+ years ago it happened in a manger, in a stable, with Mary and Joseph and Shepherds and Angels, but for many years before that, God’s presence had been known through the witness of an old man who doggedly looked --- forward.
God really is with us. We only have to learn to look. May the peace of Christ be with you this season and into a wonderful 2006.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
BLOG NOTES: I want to invite everyone to use the “comments” section this week to post any words that you might have about those who have been “Simeon” or “Anna” to you in your own life. Use this space as a chance to honor those who have helped shape your faith and helped make God’s presence real and known in your own life. Thanks in advance for what you will share.
Also, note that there won’t be a blog entry next week. I’ll be traveling next Wednesday to see family and also the SOTH office will be closed, as is the tradition here during the week after Christmas. Look for a new, weekly entries to begin again on the first Wednesday in January. Thanks so much to all of you who take the time to read my ramblings, and for the ways that you have passed this site on to friends and family.
CHRISTMAS LIFE AT SOTH:
“Blue Christmas” worship, tonight at 7pm. Sometimes we can feel a sense of loss more than ever during times of holiday celebration. This meditative service will offer the hope of Christmas for all who are feeling the need for some extra encouragement this year. All are invited, and a time of fellowship and food will follow.
Christmas Eve Worship: 5:30 and 7:00 p.m. this Saturday night, December 24th. Communion and childcare for kids 4 and under at both services.
Community Christmas Brunch: Sunday morning, December 25th, 10 a.m. only. We’ll come together for a good meal and great fellowship, followed by Christmas carols, lighting the advent wreath and a Christmas message. Have a great family time together at home and then come on in to celebrate what the day is all about. Some have asked and -- yes, kids can wear their pj’s and bring a toy. Adults can only wear their pj’s if they’re the “Pink Nightmare” bunny ear ones that Ralphie had to wear in A Christmas Story. See you at Church!
Dec 14, 2005
Irony
Well, as much as I'd like to write a sweet and sentimental Christmas piece this week, that is simply not to be. This Christmas season has seen such great intensification of a certain cultural phenomenon that I find myself unable to refrain from comment. Apparently, the "happy holidays" people are a threat. A real threat. Boo!
First, let me say that the seeming absence of any collective sense of irony in our culture gives me great cause for worry and concern.
Are you all riled (or should I say O'Reilly-ed) up this year because those liberal media-types have continued in their plot to take the "Christ" out of "Christmas?" Like any good Christian, are you boycotting evil retailers who dare to say, "Happy Holidays," instead of "Merry Christmas?"
Have we lost our collective sense of irony? (By the way, the above paragraph really doesn't represent an example of irony nearly so much as sarcasm).
Fox News Channel pundit and self-proclaimed savior of Christmas, Bill O'Reilly, says that his viewers' boycots of Sears, Target and other "Happy Holidays" stores (they don't say "Merry Christmas" to shoppers) have been important and successful because, "this is about respect."
In literature, "irony" occurs when a character says or does one thing but intends the opposite. It is a deliberate gap between the language used and that which is being discussed.
For instance, "this is about respect," might really mean, "everyone must do it my way or they are terrible people who obviously don't respect me and all those who agree with me." Or something like that. See? ...Irony.
It's ironic that the people who get most angry whenever minorities or women find any offense should get so hot under the collar about a simple seasonal greeting. Which reminds me, "it's all about respect" can also mean, "I can get mad anytime I want to but you can't."
It's also ironic to claim that your call to action has restored the "Christ" in Christmas when what it's really done (as have all those who've supported it) is to reinforce the cultural tie between the celebration of Jesus' birth and excessive consumption and materialism.
It's ironic that much of Bill O'Reilly's success, and that of his "Say-Merry-Christmas-or Else" movement has been rightly or wrongly attributed to Christians. Non-believers must think we Christians look pretty foolish lining up behind an angry tv personality who rants for ratings. In the meantime, they're left to their own conclusions as to who Jesus might be and why he might matter.
How can I possibly care whether the cashier at Target tells me "Merry Christmas," or "Happy Holidays" when I should be so much more concerned about whether that person has Jesus in his or her heart? Would it be ok for me to acknowledge that not everyone in the world is a follower of Christ and that a forced act of cultural obedience is not the same as faith?
What if Christians were less easily moved to boycott and more easily moved to serve? What if we lived in this world in such a way that the culture really was transformed? What if greed could be turned into generosity and sin gave way to redemption?
I know, I know, what if it rained gumdrops and little fairy princesses flew out of my nose? It's so much easier to be cynical than faithful, to be righteously indignant than soft-hearted and humble. Believe me, I know.
My fear is that we've lost our sense of irony, and that now we're particularly vulnerable to the lure of hollow "victories" that make the culture look a little more Christian while keeping Jesus' disciples cooped up in false safe-houses of our make-believe power.
Here's what I know about Christmas: The all-powerful God loved us so much that he was born among us, becoming dependent upon his frightened, impoverished parents. He was laid in a manger, surrounded by a barnyard scene and must have been viewed as insignificant by almost all who passed by. That baby grew up, and the Creator-of-it-all spent long days working at a humble carpenter's bench. His love was never made more real than when he hung upon a criminal's cross, broken and bleeding. My sins, yours, and the world's, have been redeemed.
That's the message we carry. That's God's kind of irony. That's not for sale this Christmas, but it's the greatest gift that there will ever be. Now that's something to get riled up about.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
CHRISTMAS LIFE AT SOTH:
December 18, 2005
Regular Sunday schedule, with services at 8:30 and 10:00 a.m.
December 21, 2005
"The Longest Night," a Service of Christmas Hope
Our upcoming service of hope for all who mourn or struggle during the holidays was covered in today's Douglas Neighbor. Psalms, readings, a short sermon and special music will impart a message of hope in "God With Us." All are welcome to worship, and to a time of fellowship following.
December 24, 2005
Christmas Eve worship with communion at both services, 5:30 and 7:00 pm.
December 25, 2005
Sunday morning worship at 10:00 a.m. only, although it will be a special "community brunch" service with lots of food and fellowship, along with music and a short devotional. Everyone is invited, and please bring visiting friends and family.
Merry Christmas from Shepherd of the Hills United Methodist Church!
First, let me say that the seeming absence of any collective sense of irony in our culture gives me great cause for worry and concern.
Are you all riled (or should I say O'Reilly-ed) up this year because those liberal media-types have continued in their plot to take the "Christ" out of "Christmas?" Like any good Christian, are you boycotting evil retailers who dare to say, "Happy Holidays," instead of "Merry Christmas?"
Have we lost our collective sense of irony? (By the way, the above paragraph really doesn't represent an example of irony nearly so much as sarcasm).
Fox News Channel pundit and self-proclaimed savior of Christmas, Bill O'Reilly, says that his viewers' boycots of Sears, Target and other "Happy Holidays" stores (they don't say "Merry Christmas" to shoppers) have been important and successful because, "this is about respect."
In literature, "irony" occurs when a character says or does one thing but intends the opposite. It is a deliberate gap between the language used and that which is being discussed.
For instance, "this is about respect," might really mean, "everyone must do it my way or they are terrible people who obviously don't respect me and all those who agree with me." Or something like that. See? ...Irony.
It's ironic that the people who get most angry whenever minorities or women find any offense should get so hot under the collar about a simple seasonal greeting. Which reminds me, "it's all about respect" can also mean, "I can get mad anytime I want to but you can't."
It's also ironic to claim that your call to action has restored the "Christ" in Christmas when what it's really done (as have all those who've supported it) is to reinforce the cultural tie between the celebration of Jesus' birth and excessive consumption and materialism.
It's ironic that much of Bill O'Reilly's success, and that of his "Say-Merry-Christmas-or Else" movement has been rightly or wrongly attributed to Christians. Non-believers must think we Christians look pretty foolish lining up behind an angry tv personality who rants for ratings. In the meantime, they're left to their own conclusions as to who Jesus might be and why he might matter.
How can I possibly care whether the cashier at Target tells me "Merry Christmas," or "Happy Holidays" when I should be so much more concerned about whether that person has Jesus in his or her heart? Would it be ok for me to acknowledge that not everyone in the world is a follower of Christ and that a forced act of cultural obedience is not the same as faith?
What if Christians were less easily moved to boycott and more easily moved to serve? What if we lived in this world in such a way that the culture really was transformed? What if greed could be turned into generosity and sin gave way to redemption?
I know, I know, what if it rained gumdrops and little fairy princesses flew out of my nose? It's so much easier to be cynical than faithful, to be righteously indignant than soft-hearted and humble. Believe me, I know.
My fear is that we've lost our sense of irony, and that now we're particularly vulnerable to the lure of hollow "victories" that make the culture look a little more Christian while keeping Jesus' disciples cooped up in false safe-houses of our make-believe power.
Here's what I know about Christmas: The all-powerful God loved us so much that he was born among us, becoming dependent upon his frightened, impoverished parents. He was laid in a manger, surrounded by a barnyard scene and must have been viewed as insignificant by almost all who passed by. That baby grew up, and the Creator-of-it-all spent long days working at a humble carpenter's bench. His love was never made more real than when he hung upon a criminal's cross, broken and bleeding. My sins, yours, and the world's, have been redeemed.
That's the message we carry. That's God's kind of irony. That's not for sale this Christmas, but it's the greatest gift that there will ever be. Now that's something to get riled up about.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
CHRISTMAS LIFE AT SOTH:
December 18, 2005
Regular Sunday schedule, with services at 8:30 and 10:00 a.m.
December 21, 2005
"The Longest Night," a Service of Christmas Hope
Our upcoming service of hope for all who mourn or struggle during the holidays was covered in today's Douglas Neighbor. Psalms, readings, a short sermon and special music will impart a message of hope in "God With Us." All are welcome to worship, and to a time of fellowship following.
December 24, 2005
Christmas Eve worship with communion at both services, 5:30 and 7:00 pm.
December 25, 2005
Sunday morning worship at 10:00 a.m. only, although it will be a special "community brunch" service with lots of food and fellowship, along with music and a short devotional. Everyone is invited, and please bring visiting friends and family.
Merry Christmas from Shepherd of the Hills United Methodist Church!
Dec 7, 2005
The "Old Rectory" in Epworth. This is the restored rectory that Samuel Wesley had built at a cost to the parish of $800,000 in today's money. The people of Epworth had burned the first house out from under the Wesleys because of Samuel's extreme unpopularity. John Wesley almost died as a child in the fire.
Home
It is “Blog Day,” Wednesday, and I thought I’d take the opportunity this week to finish what we started from
Truly, the things that we saw on the trip were wonderful, as were the English people. We saw so many of the important places for the Wesleys, and I feel like my understanding of them and of the early days of Methodism has increased tenfold.
Our trip to Epworth was very powerful. We worshipped at Wesley Memorial, a British Methodist church built in Wesley’s hometown after his death. This is close to “ground zero” for Methodist worship, and we took communion around a table from which John and Charles Wesley had served many times. The table was somehow inherited from
We were treated to a visit at
A
From there we traveled to
Finally, we also saw the Oxford Cathedral at
Truly, the trip was incredible and I can’t wait to put together a little more formal presentation for all who want to know more about our English heritage and connection to the Wesleys. That knowledge can help us understand so much more about our roots, and about where we should take Methodism in this new century. As John Wesley said, “The best of all is, God is with us.” Surely this is true. Holly and I are so grateful that we know God’s presence through your faithful witness. Thanks to you all for your support of us in our travels and to Max Vincent and Keith Windmiller for their pastoral support and help. We are classically “jet-lagged” having woken up this morning at 2:30 a.m. feeling for all the world like it was time to eat breakfast and get going. We’ll catch up soon and be as good as new. I plan to be in and out of the office tomorrow but will be taking the rest of today to straighten out on sleep and spend some much-needed time with our boys.
Adam
"Father, Forgive"
(ORIGINALLY WRITTEN 12/3; POSTED FROM U.S. 12/7/05)Good morning SOTH family! As I write from our hotel this Saturday morning at 6:00 AM, most of you have just settled down for a good night’s sleep.
Yesterday we toured around
Yesterday afternoon we saw Coventry Cathedral, and for me, this has been a true highlight of the trip.
The Cathedral is now a testimony to the power of forgiveness and the power of God at work among his people. The morning after the bombing, two beams from the massive roof had fallen in the shape of a cross. A local wired them together and propped them in the place where the high altar had stood. That cross was preserved and remained in place until it was lost to vandals in the 1970’s. Today a replica remains, with the inscription behind it, “Father, Forgive.” The ruins of the ancient cathedral are now joined to a space that is the greatest example of modern church architecture that we have in the world today.
The rebuilt cathedral mixes ancient symbols with modern art and technology in powerful ways. Built in the 1960’s, the modern cathedral is a place that immediately inspires a sense of awe and God’s presence. I met a wonderful lady there was has volunteered at the cathedral throughout her life. She is now in her middle 70’s, and she took Holly and me aside and gave us the “real” tour. It was an amazing thing to talk to her about the cathedral, about the people who lived in
Today we are off to
Tomorrow we will worship at the
Have a wonderful day in worship tomorrow and know that we miss you all. Keep us in your prayers! We fly back to
Peace –
Adam
Nov 30, 2005
Gloucester
Gloucester Cathedral and the baptismal font where George Whitefield was christened, St. Mary's de Crypt.
John Wesley's Grave
The gravesite of John Wesley at City Road Chapel, London. Note the modern architecture and busy city that surrounds his final resting place.
The Powerhouse of Methodism
The last two days have been wonderful during our time here in
Adam and Holly
Nov 28, 2005
Shepherd of the Hillsbillies Go to England!
Well, the ol' Tennesseeans turned Georgians have landed in London!
Holly and I had a wonderful day today, even though we were absolutely exhausted from flying all night long. We landed about 3 am Douglasville time, which was 8 a.m. London time. From there, we worked through Gatwick airport and made our way to London (about 2 hours on a bus).
We arrived at the Methodist Central Building located directly across from Westminster Abbey. Holly and I and a few others split our time between the two, so we managed to see the graves of Henry VIII, Elizabeth I and many other historical figures. Truly, the magnitude of the history of the place was incredible. From one vantage point across the street from Westminster, you can see the Abbey, Parliament and Big Ben, which stands towering over the House of Commons (I think I'm getting this right, some of you may have to correct me later).
But, the best part of the day was seeing St. Paul's Cathedral in the afternoon. What an amazing place. This one has connection for us because we can remember Diana and Charles being married there, and then her funeral there in our own lifetimes. I don't think I've ever been in a single place that felt more holy. The art, architecture and presence of the place defy description. And, a picture could tell you a thousand words, but they don't allow photography inside there, or at Westminster Abbey.
Tomorrow we spend the day around London, taking in various sights important for John Wesley. We will stand at the spot of his Aldersgate "heart warming" experience. Then, on to Birmingham, which will become our home base for the next several days.
Thanks to you all for your wonderful support of us in this trip. To Max Vincent for covering this Sunday --- I only wish that I could hear him preach --- and to all of you who wrote last week. You are great writers and people of deep faith.
Keep your eyes peeled on the SOTHblog, more coming soon!
Peace and Cheerie-O,
Adam
Nov 23, 2005
Thankful
Well, about 350 years ago the Pilgrims and Indians got together and had a big ol' celebration.
So, tomorrow, to commemorate that great event, I plan to eat turkey and wonderful, smushy side-dishes, nap, watch football and spend time with my family. Hey, it works for me.
But, our annual celebration of Thanksgiving really does give us the opportunity to take a moment and think.
Now, it may seem like "taking a moment" and "thinking" might be the last things that you've got time for in the midst of Thanksgiving preparations. If you're hosting a gathering this year, then you're no doubt spending this day cleaning house, cooking, re-cleaning the kitchen several more times and possibly even braving the crowd at Kroger. May God be with you.
So, take a moment --- right now. After all, you're already surfing the internet, probably putting off something else that you should really be doing. A couple more minutes isn't going to hurt.
Below, you'll see a button that allows you to leave comment. I hope you'll use that button. This week, I want us to use the "blog" to the fullest, creating a kind of virutal wall of thanks that can be shared by everybody who surfs this way.
I'll get the ball rolling:
I am so thankful to be the pastor of Shepherd of the Hills United Methodist Church. It's amazing to me to think that my life has unfolded in such a way that I get to work full-time at something I love so much and am so passionate about. I am honored to have become part of something that was already so good, so mission-oriented and so full of life. I believe that God will use your gifts and mine and do greater things here than we have ever dreamed.
I am thankful for those of you who have opened your hearts to me, but even more so for the way that you have received my family. It's one thing to move myself across the state to a place where we don't know anybody, but it's something else altogether to ask that of my wife and sons. We are all blooming and prospering in your care, and for that I am so thankful.
I am thankful for the relationships that surround me. Most particularly, I am thankful for my family. Holly, Will and Sam are true miracles that I get to experience every day, and they are the best signs I've ever known of how real and deep God's love is.
I am thankful for my parents and grandparents. For all of my family on both sides -- they surround me and support me even when I've let the phone lines grow too cold and the distance too great. I am thankful for them and for all the family and friends I've known and loved in the days before there was a "Rev." attached to my name.
Most of all, I am thankful that God never leaves us, never gives up on us, and always, always loves us. I am thankful for the ways that he shows us that love every day.
Take a moment and tell the world (well, ok, actually just the few folks who read this post each week) what you're thankful for. I'd tell you to keep it short, but that would be among the most hypocritical things said so far this century. So, knock yourself out and have a blast.
Happy Thanksgiving Everybody...
Adam
Life at SOTH:
Don't forget our Hanging of the Greens service this Sunday. ONE SERVICE ONLY, 10 AM. I can promise that you've never been to a service like this one --- fully interactive, dramatic and lots of fun. It'll be worth getting home by Sunday morning for.
Holly and Adam leave for England after the service this Sunday. Look for frequent SOTHBLOG posts from the other side of the pond. Thanks to Max Vincent, who will preach on 12/4 at both services, and to Keith Windmiller of New Covenant UMC for helping out with any emergency pastoral care needs that may arise.
So, tomorrow, to commemorate that great event, I plan to eat turkey and wonderful, smushy side-dishes, nap, watch football and spend time with my family. Hey, it works for me.
But, our annual celebration of Thanksgiving really does give us the opportunity to take a moment and think.
Now, it may seem like "taking a moment" and "thinking" might be the last things that you've got time for in the midst of Thanksgiving preparations. If you're hosting a gathering this year, then you're no doubt spending this day cleaning house, cooking, re-cleaning the kitchen several more times and possibly even braving the crowd at Kroger. May God be with you.
So, take a moment --- right now. After all, you're already surfing the internet, probably putting off something else that you should really be doing. A couple more minutes isn't going to hurt.
Below, you'll see a button that allows you to leave comment. I hope you'll use that button. This week, I want us to use the "blog" to the fullest, creating a kind of virutal wall of thanks that can be shared by everybody who surfs this way.
I'll get the ball rolling:
I am so thankful to be the pastor of Shepherd of the Hills United Methodist Church. It's amazing to me to think that my life has unfolded in such a way that I get to work full-time at something I love so much and am so passionate about. I am honored to have become part of something that was already so good, so mission-oriented and so full of life. I believe that God will use your gifts and mine and do greater things here than we have ever dreamed.
I am thankful for those of you who have opened your hearts to me, but even more so for the way that you have received my family. It's one thing to move myself across the state to a place where we don't know anybody, but it's something else altogether to ask that of my wife and sons. We are all blooming and prospering in your care, and for that I am so thankful.
I am thankful for the relationships that surround me. Most particularly, I am thankful for my family. Holly, Will and Sam are true miracles that I get to experience every day, and they are the best signs I've ever known of how real and deep God's love is.
I am thankful for my parents and grandparents. For all of my family on both sides -- they surround me and support me even when I've let the phone lines grow too cold and the distance too great. I am thankful for them and for all the family and friends I've known and loved in the days before there was a "Rev." attached to my name.
Most of all, I am thankful that God never leaves us, never gives up on us, and always, always loves us. I am thankful for the ways that he shows us that love every day.
Take a moment and tell the world (well, ok, actually just the few folks who read this post each week) what you're thankful for. I'd tell you to keep it short, but that would be among the most hypocritical things said so far this century. So, knock yourself out and have a blast.
Happy Thanksgiving Everybody...
Adam
Life at SOTH:
Don't forget our Hanging of the Greens service this Sunday. ONE SERVICE ONLY, 10 AM. I can promise that you've never been to a service like this one --- fully interactive, dramatic and lots of fun. It'll be worth getting home by Sunday morning for.
Holly and Adam leave for England after the service this Sunday. Look for frequent SOTHBLOG posts from the other side of the pond. Thanks to Max Vincent, who will preach on 12/4 at both services, and to Keith Windmiller of New Covenant UMC for helping out with any emergency pastoral care needs that may arise.
Nov 16, 2005
Dressing
Let's talk dressing.
No, I'm not talking about how you make clothing choices. Definitely, I don't mean the stuff you put on salad.
It's almost Thanksgiving and that means football, turkey and D-R-E-S-S-I-N-G.
We're talking cornbread. Cornbread dressing.
I was born in Jackson, Tennessee, and would lay my country credentials down against almost anybody. I can tell you that the best southern tradition of them all, bar none, is to be found in a pan of good ol' cornbread dressing. Made with love, of course. And just the right hint of sage.
If you're not a native of the south, I'm sure that wherever you're from has some fine traditions and particular culinary delights of its own. But for me, nothing tastes like "home" and "comfort" and "family" like a crispy-around-the-edges but smushy-in-the-middle pile of dressing.
I guess that's because my love of dressing was developed at my grandmama's table. There, dressing would make an appearance from time-to-time throughout the year, but we could count on its presence at every Holiday gathering.
Grandmama's dressing that I grew up with didn't have any shortcuts. It still doesn't. This is not Stovetop "Stuffing" (whatever that is) that we're talking about here. My finely tuned tastebuds can detect the slightest hint of any less than authentic ingredients.
Good, southern, cornbread dressing is many things all at once, and it doesn't get that way easily. Substantial (too many plates full will leave you not wanting to eat dressing or anything else for a long while) yet light and delicate, it is a masterpiece of balance, equal in boldness and restraint.
OK, I'll admit this is starting to sound a bit like a snooty wine review, but what can I say? I'm an enthusiast. Laverne Spitzer's (grandmama's) cornbread dressing is what the angels eat in heaven. That's all there is to it.
Her dressing is a labor-intensive investment. It requires the baking of biscuits, itself an artform that cannot be reduced to a simple recipe. Those biscuits, crumbled and combined with her world-reknowned cornbread, glued together with eggs and broth, seasoned with the mysterious essence of a grandmother's love and then baked to a golden goodness results in the finished product. Perfection.
I'm not the only one who loves the stuff. Tonight we gather for SOTH's annual Thanksgiving meal and over 150 of you have signed up. Who knows how many we'll have when all is said and done? I know that Tim Potate's dressing may give Laverne's a run for its money (no pressure, Tim), but I wonder if that's the only reason everyone seems so excited about the meal that is to come.
You see, as wonderful as it is, I think there's another reason I love my grandmother's dressing so much. It makes me think of her. I can hear the music of her voice as she calls out a greeting to each new child, or grandchild, or great-grandchild who walks through the door to spend time with "Pop" and her. I can see her hands at work in the kitchen, or the garden or at the sewing machine. It's amazing how the smell of sage or a little bit of cornmeal and flour can turn me into a child again and remind me of what it means to be loved without reservation.
That's why everybody's coming to dinner. Not to remember their grandmothers (I really need to give mine a call), but to remember that they're part of something so much bigger than themselves. God wants every one of us to find relationships of depth and substance and faith. He calls us to be a family, and to gather together and break bread. Tonight, the turkey and dressing will flow --- and so will the grace and love. My family, like yours, is far from flawless. The same is true of our church. And that's a good thing, for our flaws remind us of the amazing work that God does.
He takes the plain little bits of flour and meal we have to offer and builds them into something incredible. Every time I've witnessed the gathering of my parents and sister, my aunts and uncles and cousins (and 2nd cousins and 3rd cousins), we have circled around a table set full to overflowing by my grandparents' love for us all. In the middle, the "big ol'" pan of dressing is always waiting. No matter what my cousins might think, I know she makes it just for me.
Tonight, it's southern communion at Shepherd of the Hills: Sweet tea and cornbread dressing.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Well, in case you still didn't know it, don't forget that dinner is tonight at the church, 6:30 pm, and everybody's welcome. $4 per person with a $20 max per family.
No Dressing, but Lots of Fish and Chips: Holly and I are preparing to travel to England with a group of UM clergy from the North Georgia Conference. Bishop Davis will lead a group of newly ordained clergy to many historic sites from the life of John Wesley, founder of the United Methodist movement. We'll leave after church on Sunday afternoon, November 27th and return on December 6th. Look for daily updates on the SOTHBLOG during the trip!
Hanging of the Greens Service: Next Sunday, November 27th will be our special service of Advent preparation called "Hanging of the Greens." Thanks to Deena Canup and or Worship Team for their preparation and creativity for what will be a special time together. One service only that Sunday.
No, I'm not talking about how you make clothing choices. Definitely, I don't mean the stuff you put on salad.
It's almost Thanksgiving and that means football, turkey and D-R-E-S-S-I-N-G.
We're talking cornbread. Cornbread dressing.
I was born in Jackson, Tennessee, and would lay my country credentials down against almost anybody. I can tell you that the best southern tradition of them all, bar none, is to be found in a pan of good ol' cornbread dressing. Made with love, of course. And just the right hint of sage.
If you're not a native of the south, I'm sure that wherever you're from has some fine traditions and particular culinary delights of its own. But for me, nothing tastes like "home" and "comfort" and "family" like a crispy-around-the-edges but smushy-in-the-middle pile of dressing.
I guess that's because my love of dressing was developed at my grandmama's table. There, dressing would make an appearance from time-to-time throughout the year, but we could count on its presence at every Holiday gathering.
Grandmama's dressing that I grew up with didn't have any shortcuts. It still doesn't. This is not Stovetop "Stuffing" (whatever that is) that we're talking about here. My finely tuned tastebuds can detect the slightest hint of any less than authentic ingredients.
Good, southern, cornbread dressing is many things all at once, and it doesn't get that way easily. Substantial (too many plates full will leave you not wanting to eat dressing or anything else for a long while) yet light and delicate, it is a masterpiece of balance, equal in boldness and restraint.
OK, I'll admit this is starting to sound a bit like a snooty wine review, but what can I say? I'm an enthusiast. Laverne Spitzer's (grandmama's) cornbread dressing is what the angels eat in heaven. That's all there is to it.
Her dressing is a labor-intensive investment. It requires the baking of biscuits, itself an artform that cannot be reduced to a simple recipe. Those biscuits, crumbled and combined with her world-reknowned cornbread, glued together with eggs and broth, seasoned with the mysterious essence of a grandmother's love and then baked to a golden goodness results in the finished product. Perfection.
I'm not the only one who loves the stuff. Tonight we gather for SOTH's annual Thanksgiving meal and over 150 of you have signed up. Who knows how many we'll have when all is said and done? I know that Tim Potate's dressing may give Laverne's a run for its money (no pressure, Tim), but I wonder if that's the only reason everyone seems so excited about the meal that is to come.
You see, as wonderful as it is, I think there's another reason I love my grandmother's dressing so much. It makes me think of her. I can hear the music of her voice as she calls out a greeting to each new child, or grandchild, or great-grandchild who walks through the door to spend time with "Pop" and her. I can see her hands at work in the kitchen, or the garden or at the sewing machine. It's amazing how the smell of sage or a little bit of cornmeal and flour can turn me into a child again and remind me of what it means to be loved without reservation.
That's why everybody's coming to dinner. Not to remember their grandmothers (I really need to give mine a call), but to remember that they're part of something so much bigger than themselves. God wants every one of us to find relationships of depth and substance and faith. He calls us to be a family, and to gather together and break bread. Tonight, the turkey and dressing will flow --- and so will the grace and love. My family, like yours, is far from flawless. The same is true of our church. And that's a good thing, for our flaws remind us of the amazing work that God does.
He takes the plain little bits of flour and meal we have to offer and builds them into something incredible. Every time I've witnessed the gathering of my parents and sister, my aunts and uncles and cousins (and 2nd cousins and 3rd cousins), we have circled around a table set full to overflowing by my grandparents' love for us all. In the middle, the "big ol'" pan of dressing is always waiting. No matter what my cousins might think, I know she makes it just for me.
Tonight, it's southern communion at Shepherd of the Hills: Sweet tea and cornbread dressing.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Well, in case you still didn't know it, don't forget that dinner is tonight at the church, 6:30 pm, and everybody's welcome. $4 per person with a $20 max per family.
No Dressing, but Lots of Fish and Chips: Holly and I are preparing to travel to England with a group of UM clergy from the North Georgia Conference. Bishop Davis will lead a group of newly ordained clergy to many historic sites from the life of John Wesley, founder of the United Methodist movement. We'll leave after church on Sunday afternoon, November 27th and return on December 6th. Look for daily updates on the SOTHBLOG during the trip!
Hanging of the Greens Service: Next Sunday, November 27th will be our special service of Advent preparation called "Hanging of the Greens." Thanks to Deena Canup and or Worship Team for their preparation and creativity for what will be a special time together. One service only that Sunday.
Nov 9, 2005
Lucas
Matthew 19: 28-30 (The Message)
28Jesus replied, "Yes, you have followed me. In the re-creation of the world, when the Son of Man will rule gloriously, you who have followed me will also rule, starting with the twelve tribes of Israel. 29And not only you, but anyone who sacrifices home, family, fields--whatever-because of me will get it all back a hundred times over, not to mention the considerable bonus of eternal life. 30This is the Great Reversal: many of the first ending up last, and the last first."
This morning I've been suffering from a serious case of "blogger's block."
As Napoleon would say (Dynamite, that is, not the little French general), there's like a "finity" of things to write about, but none of them seem quite right.
Rioting in France...Election Day...Intelligent Design controvery....all too political.
Beautiful Fall weather and the amazing leaves all around us...too sappy (sorry about the pun).
A weekend hike with my family complete with pics of my boys...too "daddy."
Nothing. But it's Wednesday, so "nothing" won't do.
Then, I opened my e-mail. There I found a message in a bottle, one that somehow made the long trip from Tegucigalpa, Honduras, to wash ashore on my digital beach. It was the first time I'd heard from Lucas (he hasn't heard from me, either) in a long, long time.
I first met Lucas in the summer of 2002. When I saw him, he was pressed into the doorway that separates the cramped Honduran customs room from the adjacent baggage claim area. "Wesley Group!" he yelled, smiling, looking, searching for the nervous and slightly bewildered American missionary team that was to become his charge. Even though it was my first time out of the U.S., my first time to lead a mission trip, my first time to experience any place that felt so immediately foreign to my world, I instinctively knew that things would be alright with Lucas.
Lucas has served as the guide for Wesley's mission teams (the church that I served at that time), every year since. In 2003, he got to spend Christmas with Wesley in Evans, GA. He got to return with his wife for Christmas last year, and this morning he wrote me to tell me that his entire family will be back in Georgia in only a few weeks, and we're working to figure out a time that we can see each other again.
My friendship with Lucas comes back to me in flashes of cross-cultural brilliance. The first time I tried to speak my incredibly bad Spanish to a little girl in a Honduran village, Lucas was there to help. When I asked about her "madre" and "padre," she seemed confused. "No, no," Lucas said, "mami y papi." When I used his words, she smiled and took me to meet them.
As we walked down the dirt road between San Esteban and I-have-no-idea-where-we-are, I noticed all the little kids that were following us. Their numbers grew with every little house we passed. "Lucas," I said, "what can I say to these kids that they would never expect from a gringo --- something that will really make them laugh?" Lucas told me to say, "hola, chicquines" (no other Spanish speaker I've asked has ever understood exactly what this might mean -- it's close to 'hello, little-itty-bitty children'). When I surprised them with my phrase, their faces lit up, they looked at each other with shocked delight, giggled and giggled and then kept following us for sure. I don't know that I've ever seen Lucas in a Honduran village without a group of laughing children all around him.
I stood with Lucas in the middle of a jungle, under the roof of the most dilapidated home that I have ever seen. We spoke to the single mother who lived there as her two little boys ran around her feet. Her husband had been killed and now she was in danger of losing even this little shack -- all that she could give her children. Like me, he saw her tears when we told her that Wesley would pay for the house and do whatever we could for her family.
I remember the time that we got to visit Lucas' mama's house, and how we got to hear her sing to us as a way of welcome and a display of hospitality. I'll always remember how she slipped Lucas some aluminum foil full of home cooking as we left. She kissed his cheek like only a mother can. Mamas are mamas -- wherever you are.
I have eaten with Lucas, and learned what a great breakfast black beans, fried plantains, eggs, corn tortillas and Honduran coffee can be. I have eaten with him in my own home and learned to share his sense of astonishment at what it means to be an American. After reading some Thomas the Tank Engine to my then 3-year-old son he said, "Your son has more books than the entire elementary school in San Esteban." San Esteban is not a tiny town. He didn't have any intention of making me feel guilty, he was simply speaking from his natural reaction to the discovery of an incredible and overwhelming fact. The fact overwhelmed me, too.
I remember a "birthday cake for America," complete with candles, that Lucas somehow arranged and presented to our group when we were once in his country on the Fourth of July. I remember standing with him on our last day in Corral Viejo when the villagers there sang the Honduran national anthem, and then our group struggled through "The Star-Spangled Banner." Before we got off the truck that morning he told us, "don't yell, 'Play Ball!' when it's finished. These songs are very important here." A good lesson learned.
He taught me that a Honduran will never open a gift in the presence of the giver. Instead, they wait for a private moment to appreciate what they have received. Again, it's a tradition I've come to love. I remember how Lucas always makes the slightest change to the English phrase "spending time." Lucas says, "sharing time." It's so good that we could "share time" together. That's a much better thing to say.
I tell you about all of these experiences simply because, to at least some degree, they have helped shape who I am and how I've come to think about faith and ministry. I tell you about them because they are experiences that have stretched me and made me think in ways that I didn't and couldn't before. I tell you about them because my relationship with "Lucas my brother" and the people of Olancho, Honduras, has become a sign and token for me of the way that God in Christ calls us to connection with each other. These experiences have been a real means of grace in my life.
Being in a foreign place made me dependent on Lucas and on the agency that sponsored our trips. That vulnerability helped our team learn to be open to all the ways that we do really need help, and enabled us to realize how much we need to lean on God as well. Sometimes our day-to-day experience can fool us into thinking that we really can, and do, take care of ourselves. There's not much that could be further from the truth. That's what "the Great Reversal," or "the flip" teaches us.
When we truly extend ourselves, beyond our own capacity to maintain balance, we learn what it means to absolutely need help from others. It's often when we really push ourselves to give that we find the surprise lesson. We learn what it means to receive. We learn what it means to depend on, and receive from God.
I remember a wonderful doctor from Augusta who was returning to full-time mission service in Africa. He told me that, "...here I don't see God so easily because it's easier to see my house, and my car, and my practice. I see the grocery store and the highways and my church building. But in Africa, I get up and pray, 'God, I depend on you for my life today.' And I see him everywhere."
There are definitely settings that make it easier to see our interdependence, but you don't have to go to Honduras or Africa to learn how to find them. God really is in Douglasville, too. We might just have to work harder here at not fooling ourselves.
You can connect wherever you are, today. SOTH just returned a mission team from Mississippi. Their stories are of transformation --- not for those they went to help, but for themselves. They experienced God as they reached out. Somewhere along the way, the roles reversed. The divine flip --- flipped.
Try something: find a way to extend yourself beyond the comfortable today. Find a way to get in touch with your dependence on God. Reach out to someone else, and find out how the roles can reverse. You will be changed by the effort. God will flip the "servant" so that he or she becomes the "receiver." That's the way of grace...the way of Christ.
28Jesus replied, "Yes, you have followed me. In the re-creation of the world, when the Son of Man will rule gloriously, you who have followed me will also rule, starting with the twelve tribes of Israel. 29And not only you, but anyone who sacrifices home, family, fields--whatever-because of me will get it all back a hundred times over, not to mention the considerable bonus of eternal life. 30This is the Great Reversal: many of the first ending up last, and the last first."
This morning I've been suffering from a serious case of "blogger's block."
As Napoleon would say (Dynamite, that is, not the little French general), there's like a "finity" of things to write about, but none of them seem quite right.
Rioting in France...Election Day...Intelligent Design controvery....all too political.
Beautiful Fall weather and the amazing leaves all around us...too sappy (sorry about the pun).
A weekend hike with my family complete with pics of my boys...too "daddy."
Nothing. But it's Wednesday, so "nothing" won't do.
Then, I opened my e-mail. There I found a message in a bottle, one that somehow made the long trip from Tegucigalpa, Honduras, to wash ashore on my digital beach. It was the first time I'd heard from Lucas (he hasn't heard from me, either) in a long, long time.
I first met Lucas in the summer of 2002. When I saw him, he was pressed into the doorway that separates the cramped Honduran customs room from the adjacent baggage claim area. "Wesley Group!" he yelled, smiling, looking, searching for the nervous and slightly bewildered American missionary team that was to become his charge. Even though it was my first time out of the U.S., my first time to lead a mission trip, my first time to experience any place that felt so immediately foreign to my world, I instinctively knew that things would be alright with Lucas.
Lucas has served as the guide for Wesley's mission teams (the church that I served at that time), every year since. In 2003, he got to spend Christmas with Wesley in Evans, GA. He got to return with his wife for Christmas last year, and this morning he wrote me to tell me that his entire family will be back in Georgia in only a few weeks, and we're working to figure out a time that we can see each other again.
My friendship with Lucas comes back to me in flashes of cross-cultural brilliance. The first time I tried to speak my incredibly bad Spanish to a little girl in a Honduran village, Lucas was there to help. When I asked about her "madre" and "padre," she seemed confused. "No, no," Lucas said, "mami y papi." When I used his words, she smiled and took me to meet them.
As we walked down the dirt road between San Esteban and I-have-no-idea-where-we-are, I noticed all the little kids that were following us. Their numbers grew with every little house we passed. "Lucas," I said, "what can I say to these kids that they would never expect from a gringo --- something that will really make them laugh?" Lucas told me to say, "hola, chicquines" (no other Spanish speaker I've asked has ever understood exactly what this might mean -- it's close to 'hello, little-itty-bitty children'). When I surprised them with my phrase, their faces lit up, they looked at each other with shocked delight, giggled and giggled and then kept following us for sure. I don't know that I've ever seen Lucas in a Honduran village without a group of laughing children all around him.
I stood with Lucas in the middle of a jungle, under the roof of the most dilapidated home that I have ever seen. We spoke to the single mother who lived there as her two little boys ran around her feet. Her husband had been killed and now she was in danger of losing even this little shack -- all that she could give her children. Like me, he saw her tears when we told her that Wesley would pay for the house and do whatever we could for her family.
I remember the time that we got to visit Lucas' mama's house, and how we got to hear her sing to us as a way of welcome and a display of hospitality. I'll always remember how she slipped Lucas some aluminum foil full of home cooking as we left. She kissed his cheek like only a mother can. Mamas are mamas -- wherever you are.
I have eaten with Lucas, and learned what a great breakfast black beans, fried plantains, eggs, corn tortillas and Honduran coffee can be. I have eaten with him in my own home and learned to share his sense of astonishment at what it means to be an American. After reading some Thomas the Tank Engine to my then 3-year-old son he said, "Your son has more books than the entire elementary school in San Esteban." San Esteban is not a tiny town. He didn't have any intention of making me feel guilty, he was simply speaking from his natural reaction to the discovery of an incredible and overwhelming fact. The fact overwhelmed me, too.
I remember a "birthday cake for America," complete with candles, that Lucas somehow arranged and presented to our group when we were once in his country on the Fourth of July. I remember standing with him on our last day in Corral Viejo when the villagers there sang the Honduran national anthem, and then our group struggled through "The Star-Spangled Banner." Before we got off the truck that morning he told us, "don't yell, 'Play Ball!' when it's finished. These songs are very important here." A good lesson learned.
He taught me that a Honduran will never open a gift in the presence of the giver. Instead, they wait for a private moment to appreciate what they have received. Again, it's a tradition I've come to love. I remember how Lucas always makes the slightest change to the English phrase "spending time." Lucas says, "sharing time." It's so good that we could "share time" together. That's a much better thing to say.
I tell you about all of these experiences simply because, to at least some degree, they have helped shape who I am and how I've come to think about faith and ministry. I tell you about them because they are experiences that have stretched me and made me think in ways that I didn't and couldn't before. I tell you about them because my relationship with "Lucas my brother" and the people of Olancho, Honduras, has become a sign and token for me of the way that God in Christ calls us to connection with each other. These experiences have been a real means of grace in my life.
Being in a foreign place made me dependent on Lucas and on the agency that sponsored our trips. That vulnerability helped our team learn to be open to all the ways that we do really need help, and enabled us to realize how much we need to lean on God as well. Sometimes our day-to-day experience can fool us into thinking that we really can, and do, take care of ourselves. There's not much that could be further from the truth. That's what "the Great Reversal," or "the flip" teaches us.
When we truly extend ourselves, beyond our own capacity to maintain balance, we learn what it means to absolutely need help from others. It's often when we really push ourselves to give that we find the surprise lesson. We learn what it means to receive. We learn what it means to depend on, and receive from God.
I remember a wonderful doctor from Augusta who was returning to full-time mission service in Africa. He told me that, "...here I don't see God so easily because it's easier to see my house, and my car, and my practice. I see the grocery store and the highways and my church building. But in Africa, I get up and pray, 'God, I depend on you for my life today.' And I see him everywhere."
There are definitely settings that make it easier to see our interdependence, but you don't have to go to Honduras or Africa to learn how to find them. God really is in Douglasville, too. We might just have to work harder here at not fooling ourselves.
You can connect wherever you are, today. SOTH just returned a mission team from Mississippi. Their stories are of transformation --- not for those they went to help, but for themselves. They experienced God as they reached out. Somewhere along the way, the roles reversed. The divine flip --- flipped.
Try something: find a way to extend yourself beyond the comfortable today. Find a way to get in touch with your dependence on God. Reach out to someone else, and find out how the roles can reverse. You will be changed by the effort. God will flip the "servant" so that he or she becomes the "receiver." That's the way of grace...the way of Christ.
Philippians 2:5-11 (The Message)
5Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. 6He had equal status with God but didn't think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. 7Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! 8Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn't claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death--and the worst kind of death at that: a crucifixion.
9Because of that obedience, God lifted him high and honored him far beyond anyone or anything, ever, 10so that all created beings in heaven and on earth--even those long ago dead and buried--will bow in worship before this Jesus Christ, 11and call out in praise that he is the Master of all, to the glorious honor of God the Father.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH
Welcome back to our mission team that went to Pascagoula, MS. We're proud of you and already looking forward to the next trip this Spring.
Tonight, part 3 of our look at United Methodism and SOTH. 6:30, in the Sanctuary for a look at local church organization, a short history of SOTH and how new churches are planted in the UM Church, and a glimpse of the future for our congregation.
Big Weekend at SOTH!! Lots of stuff is happening this weekend at SOTH. We'll be hosting a bazaar and fall festival all day long on Saturday, followed by our Men's Group BBQ and our youth group's annual Musicfest and Bonfire. We'll have lots of great food, live music and an awesome gathering for fellowship starting around sunset on Saturday evening.
This Sunday will be YOUTH SUNDAY! Look forward to 100% leadership from our youth in this Sunday's worship services. Come out and show "The Flock" how much you love and support them and be blessed by their energy and faith.
Next Wednesday, November 16th, we'll have our annual Thanksgiving Feast. Come out for a great time of food and fellowship: turkey, dressing (Tim Potate specialty) and all the fixings for $4 per person or a $20 max price per family. Already, nearly 100 folks have signed up to be there and we're just getting started good. Look for the sign-up slip in Sunday's bulletin.
COMMUNITY NEED AND A CHANCE TO RESPOND:
We have been praying for Cooper Bell and his family the last few weeks at SOTH. Cooper is a kindergatener at Chapel Hills Elementary and has developed a rare form of juvenile brain cancer. So many people know and care for the Bell's, and we want to make sure that you're informed about all the ways that you can help.
You can visit Cooper's website at caring bridge. Follow the "visit" link on the home page and then add "cooperbell" in the space provided. This is a great place to stay up to date on any developments, and his family is very appreciative of all who visit it. Jonl and Armin Steinke from SOTH are helping organize a golf tournament to help defray the massive costs associated with treatment. Here are the details:
Date: November 30th, 2005
Place: Mirror Lake Golf Course
Registration: 10:30 a.m. with Tee Time at Noon
Cost:
$100 per golfer or $400 per team
$500 to sponsor a hole or tee box
$300 to sponsor beverage cart
Sponsors at other levels welcome and will be acknolwedged
A silent auction will be held, and items for auction are welcome.
If you have questions, would like a registration form, or can help in any way, please contact Jonl Steinke at jbfriend@bellsouth.net
If you would like to donate toward helping with Cooper's medical costs, checks can be made payable to: Cooper Bell Medical Fund and mailed c/o Jonl Steinke at 3996 Oak Hill Drive, Douglasville, GA 30135
Nov 2, 2005
Ralphie
Black Friday is just around the corner. No, not "Good Friday," the Christian remembrance of Christ's death upon the cross: Black Friday. On the Friday after Thanksgiving, Americans rush into retail outlets large and small (mostly really large) in search of amazingly cheap deals on merchandise that will satisfy their Christmas present purchasing obligations. After running in the "red" all year, this is the day when many stores hit paydirt, moving into the "black" of profit.
I awoke this morning to the news that Wal-Mart has been hoodwinked. Someone leaked information of their electronics that will go on sale that fine late-autumn morning. I know that Wal-Mart must be devastated by the hours of free advertising this "leak" is now generating on CNN, Fox, MSNBC and the major networks.
All this pre-pre-Holiday turmoil has moved me to think of my family's Christmas festivities awfully early this year. When I was a kid growing up, our family's season was not complete until we all sat together through the yearly screening of A Christmas Story. You know little Ralphie, right? A Christmas Story is one of those movies, like Christmas Vacation, that you think only your family knows about. Then, as the years go by, you learn that, in fact, every family in America seems to know all the funniest lines by heart. Sometimes I think those two movies are the most most unifying Christmas traditions that we all share in our country today.
Little Ralphie is the ultimate icon of Christmas hope. With all his heart, this 8-year-old boy struggles to hold fast to his faith in Santa that says Christmas dreams will always come true if you'll only believe. Believe...and then hedge your bet by scheming, conniving, and generally conspiring in every way possible to make sure things come out the way he wants them. With relentless determination, Ralphie works throughout the movie to plant hints, implement schemes, manipulate parents, and even personally convince the Big Man in Red to make his Christmas wishes become reality.
If the movie is part of your tradition, you'll never forget the scene where Ralphie finally gets the chance to sit on Santa's lap and make his case face-to-face. He freezes. "Little boy," Santa says, "would you like a football?" "Yeah, football..." a frozen Ralphie replies. "OK, Get him outta here" Santa says to his demented elf who loads little Ralphie on a slide to the bottom of Santa's department store castle. Just as defeat seems inevitable, Ralphie springs back to his senses, catches himself on the slide, looks up to Santa and with his most adorable smile says, "No, I want an official Red Ryder carbine action 200-shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time!"
Santa's reaction is classic. Just like Ralphie's parents, and teacher, he says, "You'll shoot your eye out, kid." With a boot to the forehead, and a "Merry Christmas, Ho, Ho, Ho," Ralphie is pushed down the slide to land squarely upon his freshly crushed hope.
In the end, even if you haven't seen the movie, you know how it's going to come out. Ralphie gets his gun, even when it looks like he surely won't. Could it possibly end any other way?
Not if you're a person of hope.
Ponder something the Bible says:
"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1 NRSV)
Faith = Assurance of the "hoped for."
Faith = Conviction of the "not seen."
Stay with me for just a second.
The spiritual equation noted above is one of the Bible's fundamental definitions of faith. "Faith" is the assurance and conviction of "hope," particularly, hope in that which isn't seen. What other kind of hope can there really be? Unless the thing you desire is in some doubt or question, that desire doesn't really qualify as "hope."
I hope that water will flow when I turn on the faucet at my kitchen sink, but I can feel confident that the assumption that it will happen is a pretty reasonable one (we did pay the bill, right?). I don't think that's really "hope" so much as it's just a reasonable expectation based on facts.
But what about, "I hope my kids will become healthy and happy adult people of deep faith." What about, "I hope my cancer can be cured" or, "I hope this decision is in keeping with God's will?" Those take a little more grit, don't they? Hebrews pushes us to hope --- a hope that means "assurance" of those "unseen" things.
OK, you ask a legitimate question at this point: "What does any of this have to do with Red Ryder BB guns?"
Again, stay with me. If we've seen how God defines faith, I thought it might be interesting to see how we humans do it. Merriam-Webster says that faith is, "firm belief in something for which there is no proof." "Proof" is defined as, "the cogency of evidence that compels acceptance by the mind of a truth or fact."
Belief, even in the lack of compelling evidence. That's faith as the world describes it, and actually it sounds a whole lot like the Bible's definition, too.
You see, I love A Christmas Story, and especially little Ralphie, because he's such an image for me of the real-world situations in which we all find ourselves. We want to believe, even where we haven't seen, and even when age and experience starts to make us wonder whether we're just being foolish in the first place.
But by now, of course, I've seen the movie a hundred times. This December, as I watch Ralphie's story unfold one more time, I will be supremely confident that his hopes will be fulfilled by the time the final credits roll. I've seen it, and I know how it ends.
And maybe that's it.
Maybe what Hebrews is trying to tell us is that Christians are people of deep conviction in things unseen because on some level we have seen the end already. The good news of the Gospel is that God has chosen to be with us. The Christmas story of Christ's incarnation is the beginning of the end for all that is broken in ourselves and in our world. We are people who know, with full confidence (on our best days), that our deepest hopes will be fulfilled, even if we can't prove it.
We hope for peace, and healing and wholeness. We hope for reconciliation and love and equality. We hope for holiness and righteousness and justice. We hope for an end to pain and suffering. No matter how hard the world tries to push us down the slide of doubt, we catch ourselves --- no, God catches us.
We are the people who say, "these things will be." And very surely, wherever people make the great leap of faith and act out that confidence in the actions of their lives, these things are, even now.
In these weeks before the celebration of Christ's birth, may there be a little "Ralphie" in us all.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH
Welcome to our newest members, Kimberly, Scott and Danica Samples. Little Danica was baptized at our 8:30 service this past Sunday and Kimberly and Scott transferred their church membership to Shepherd of the Hills. We are so excited that they've made their commitment to be a part of the SOTH family and to serve Christ in this place.
Today our mission team departs for Pascagoula, MS, to aid in Hurricane Katrina rebuilding efforts. May our prayers be with them all and may God guide their steps. We look forward to hearing their stories this Sunday.
Part Two of our study on United Methodism, "An English Dude, A Horse, and A Mission" happens tonight in the sanctuary, 6:30 pm. Tonight we'll look at the development of the Methodist denomination and our history and organization here in the U.S.
The Pumpkin sale was incredible! Special thanks to youth director Cindi Bartlett for an incredible work of coordination and many hours given. She was supported by a team of incredibly dedicated volunteers and a great team that unloaded the trailer (twice!). Reports are that gross sales were over $10,000!
I awoke this morning to the news that Wal-Mart has been hoodwinked. Someone leaked information of their electronics that will go on sale that fine late-autumn morning. I know that Wal-Mart must be devastated by the hours of free advertising this "leak" is now generating on CNN, Fox, MSNBC and the major networks.
All this pre-pre-Holiday turmoil has moved me to think of my family's Christmas festivities awfully early this year. When I was a kid growing up, our family's season was not complete until we all sat together through the yearly screening of A Christmas Story. You know little Ralphie, right? A Christmas Story is one of those movies, like Christmas Vacation, that you think only your family knows about. Then, as the years go by, you learn that, in fact, every family in America seems to know all the funniest lines by heart. Sometimes I think those two movies are the most most unifying Christmas traditions that we all share in our country today.
Little Ralphie is the ultimate icon of Christmas hope. With all his heart, this 8-year-old boy struggles to hold fast to his faith in Santa that says Christmas dreams will always come true if you'll only believe. Believe...and then hedge your bet by scheming, conniving, and generally conspiring in every way possible to make sure things come out the way he wants them. With relentless determination, Ralphie works throughout the movie to plant hints, implement schemes, manipulate parents, and even personally convince the Big Man in Red to make his Christmas wishes become reality.
If the movie is part of your tradition, you'll never forget the scene where Ralphie finally gets the chance to sit on Santa's lap and make his case face-to-face. He freezes. "Little boy," Santa says, "would you like a football?" "Yeah, football..." a frozen Ralphie replies. "OK, Get him outta here" Santa says to his demented elf who loads little Ralphie on a slide to the bottom of Santa's department store castle. Just as defeat seems inevitable, Ralphie springs back to his senses, catches himself on the slide, looks up to Santa and with his most adorable smile says, "No, I want an official Red Ryder carbine action 200-shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time!"
Santa's reaction is classic. Just like Ralphie's parents, and teacher, he says, "You'll shoot your eye out, kid." With a boot to the forehead, and a "Merry Christmas, Ho, Ho, Ho," Ralphie is pushed down the slide to land squarely upon his freshly crushed hope.
In the end, even if you haven't seen the movie, you know how it's going to come out. Ralphie gets his gun, even when it looks like he surely won't. Could it possibly end any other way?
Not if you're a person of hope.
Ponder something the Bible says:
"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1 NRSV)
Faith = Assurance of the "hoped for."
Faith = Conviction of the "not seen."
Stay with me for just a second.
The spiritual equation noted above is one of the Bible's fundamental definitions of faith. "Faith" is the assurance and conviction of "hope," particularly, hope in that which isn't seen. What other kind of hope can there really be? Unless the thing you desire is in some doubt or question, that desire doesn't really qualify as "hope."
I hope that water will flow when I turn on the faucet at my kitchen sink, but I can feel confident that the assumption that it will happen is a pretty reasonable one (we did pay the bill, right?). I don't think that's really "hope" so much as it's just a reasonable expectation based on facts.
But what about, "I hope my kids will become healthy and happy adult people of deep faith." What about, "I hope my cancer can be cured" or, "I hope this decision is in keeping with God's will?" Those take a little more grit, don't they? Hebrews pushes us to hope --- a hope that means "assurance" of those "unseen" things.
OK, you ask a legitimate question at this point: "What does any of this have to do with Red Ryder BB guns?"
Again, stay with me. If we've seen how God defines faith, I thought it might be interesting to see how we humans do it. Merriam-Webster says that faith is, "firm belief in something for which there is no proof." "Proof" is defined as, "the cogency of evidence that compels acceptance by the mind of a truth or fact."
Belief, even in the lack of compelling evidence. That's faith as the world describes it, and actually it sounds a whole lot like the Bible's definition, too.
You see, I love A Christmas Story, and especially little Ralphie, because he's such an image for me of the real-world situations in which we all find ourselves. We want to believe, even where we haven't seen, and even when age and experience starts to make us wonder whether we're just being foolish in the first place.
But by now, of course, I've seen the movie a hundred times. This December, as I watch Ralphie's story unfold one more time, I will be supremely confident that his hopes will be fulfilled by the time the final credits roll. I've seen it, and I know how it ends.
And maybe that's it.
Maybe what Hebrews is trying to tell us is that Christians are people of deep conviction in things unseen because on some level we have seen the end already. The good news of the Gospel is that God has chosen to be with us. The Christmas story of Christ's incarnation is the beginning of the end for all that is broken in ourselves and in our world. We are people who know, with full confidence (on our best days), that our deepest hopes will be fulfilled, even if we can't prove it.
We hope for peace, and healing and wholeness. We hope for reconciliation and love and equality. We hope for holiness and righteousness and justice. We hope for an end to pain and suffering. No matter how hard the world tries to push us down the slide of doubt, we catch ourselves --- no, God catches us.
We are the people who say, "these things will be." And very surely, wherever people make the great leap of faith and act out that confidence in the actions of their lives, these things are, even now.
In these weeks before the celebration of Christ's birth, may there be a little "Ralphie" in us all.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH
Welcome to our newest members, Kimberly, Scott and Danica Samples. Little Danica was baptized at our 8:30 service this past Sunday and Kimberly and Scott transferred their church membership to Shepherd of the Hills. We are so excited that they've made their commitment to be a part of the SOTH family and to serve Christ in this place.
Today our mission team departs for Pascagoula, MS, to aid in Hurricane Katrina rebuilding efforts. May our prayers be with them all and may God guide their steps. We look forward to hearing their stories this Sunday.
Part Two of our study on United Methodism, "An English Dude, A Horse, and A Mission" happens tonight in the sanctuary, 6:30 pm. Tonight we'll look at the development of the Methodist denomination and our history and organization here in the U.S.
The Pumpkin sale was incredible! Special thanks to youth director Cindi Bartlett for an incredible work of coordination and many hours given. She was supported by a team of incredibly dedicated volunteers and a great team that unloaded the trailer (twice!). Reports are that gross sales were over $10,000!
Oct 26, 2005
Middle
Have you ever tried hanging out in the “middle” of something?
It’s an interesting place to be.
“The Middle” is that place where you can “see all sides.” Everything is painted a calming, soothing, shade of gray. Other than the bullets that fly in from all directions, it’s a wonderful place to spend some time.
It’s the place where we Methodists are most at home. If we looked ourselves up in the Audubon Field Guide of North American Protestants, I’m pretty sure that the photo accompanying “United Methodist” would show a large and adequate nest, occupied by a perfectly pleasant-looking man or woman. He or she could be your neighbor, or librarian, or accountant, or dentist or teacher. Solid, not flashy. And did I mention pleasant? I can almost read the entry now…
Habitat and Range: Although primarily acclimated to upper-middle class climates of the Eastern U.S., United Methodists have a strikingly large and diverse range, found in small pockets throughout all regions of North America, and occasionally found in naturalized, isolated colonies worldwide.
Attributes and Characteristics: Highly adaptable to a number of settings and contexts, with a striking ability to “blend in.” United Methodists are not easily identified due to their perfectly average size and shape and plumage. Eggs are oblong, and of average color and size. Again, truly average in all ways, the United Methodist is of course known for its pleasant call and agreeable disposition. There has been a good bit of success with domestication in some regions. Did we mention average?
We’re just sort of in “the middle,” aren’t we?Sometimes I think it would be great to be a flashy blue-jay-like kind of charismatic Christian. What if I could let go of it all during worship and cry and dance and just generally have a big ol’ party with the Holy Spirit?
But I’m United Methodist. Born and bred. It ain’t gonna happen.
But I’m not totally stiff and lifeless either, right? Garrison Keillor has said that a movement of the Holy Spirit in a Lutheran Church in Minnesota is noted by a slight inhalation of the left nostril.
But I’m Methodist. That means I can clap in church. Sort of. I mean, it will be done awkwardly, and only for a verse or two, and then I can keep going if at least three other brave souls in the congregation continue to clap with me, but maybe it would be better if I just stopped and sang along appropriately. But I was really enjoying myself. What was I thinking?
Moderation, Centrism, Middle. Now that’s exciting, huh? Don’t believe me? Just check out the fireball of energy that is the American Centrist Party.
See, “the middle” is a tough sell. Maybe.
I’m starting to adopt a crazy idea. I think that the middle might be the place where God is really at work in our country, our community, and our time.
We sell ourselves very short as UM’s if we think that the middle is just bland and boring. We do a great disservice to ourselves and others if we believe the legend that says Methodists don’t “believe anything.” We should never believe that a commitment to inclusiveness, diversity, justice, grace, forgiveness, discipline and moderation is simply “average.”
In a world where TV pundits tell you what to believe and instant poll results form the content of our leaders’ speeches and decisions, I’ve come to believe that there is a growing desire among the people for a place that will let them think. And struggle…and grow. The middle is the place where real challenges are picked up and carried.
Too often, the extreme is misrepresented as the majority opinion, and it’s up to the folks in the real middle to make a stand.
After living in Douglasville for nearly five months now, I’m amazed to see the number of charismatic, “community,” and seemingly independent churches that are thriving and being planted all around us. This is a great thing, and I pray that the Kingdom will be proclaimed and expanded in every way that it can.
But I wonder. Is there a group of folks out there, new to our community, or long-time in our county who are looking for something different? Could it be that something “different” here is actually something a little more “average?”
What I mean is this: Adam Hamilton, pastor of The United Methodist Church of the Resurrection in Leawood, Kansas has said that the middle ground of UM theology is our greatest strength and “selling point.”
I’ll never forget a conference that I attended where I heard him say, “Much of the success that C.O.R. has known is directly attributable to the fact that we don’t drive people to one extreme or the other. We think, and we challenge others to do the same. We are a church that holds fast to the fundamentals of faith in Christ and then we embrace one another, even across our differences. We are grounded in theological tradition while creative in our approach to ministry. The United Methodist church offers John Wesley’s notion of the "via media," the middle way. It is the way that many in our world are looking for today.”
The thousands who attend worship each weekend at C.O.R. can’t be wrong, right? At the very least, they show us the power of a United Methodist Church full of life, energy and creativity.
There are folks out there who want the power and passion of a contemporary church. They want the friendly spirit and warm embrace that a church turned outward toward the community has to offer. They want creativity and mission and purpose and significance.
But they also want a pastor who didn’t ordain himself. Or who changed his first name to Bishop. Or who makes up the church’s theological standards to fit her own tastes, needs or desires.
They want a church that didn’t rise up out of a vacuum, but that has instead grown up in a creative way from the deep and nourishing roots of history and tradition. They want organization, and order, and transparency that can be trusted.
You know what? That’s us. That’s the middle. We are the people of the “via media,” the middle way. We are the place where all the folks who’ve been wounded out there on the extremes can come and rest...and be healed...and then engage the world in powerful ministry.
Thank God for the middle. Let’s be radical and proud --- about being right in the center.
LIFE AT SOTH:
Much, much, much continues to happen in the life of our church:
-Welcome to Mara Cleveland, our newest member, who joined this Sunday at the 8:30 service on profession of faith. One of my favorite moments in church is becoming what I call the “SOTH Swamping” of new members when they join the church, surrounded by folks who hug and welcome them.
-Tonight we’ll start our three-week look at John Wesley, the UM church (you can tell it’s on my mind) and SOTH. Come out to our worship space at 6:30 (this is a change from what ran in Sunday’s bulletin) for “An English Dude, a Horse and a Mission.” Tonight is Part One – The English Dude.
-More Pumpkins arrive today at 5:30 this afternoon, anybody who can help is more than welcome.
-Our children’s Christmas musical rehearsals are beginning, this Sunday night. For more info, contact teresa@sothumc.net Also, the “angel tree” Christmas ministry begins this Sunday.
- Trunk or Treat happens here at the church, 6pm on Halloween night. This will be our first at SOTH, and we understand that it’s a huge event and lots of fun.-“Reverse Trick or Treat” will also happen Halloween night as our servant evangelism teams distribute 1000 sacks of Halloween candy door-to-door through the neighborhoods that surround SOTH just to say, “God loves you.” Come on out and take part, the more the merrier, meeting up at the church at 6pm Halloween night.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
Oct 19, 2005
Merge
Have you ever tried to merge from Spring St. onto 75/85 South when you're "in town?"
I just drove through this little marvel for the second time a couple of days ago. And, at the risk of sounding like the hayseed that I really am, I'll have to admit that I've never before seen a traffic light setup exactly like that one. As you ready yourself for the jump into the river of vehicles that floods through the heart of Atlanta each day, you come to see that an electronic hall monitor is hard at work in that place. With exacting demands, she expects good conduct of her pupils. Proper order and decorum is always maintained.
You know the "each one let one" rule of driving, right? If you don't, you really should learn it, for its implementation could do more for the cause of bringing civility to future generations than any other global initiative. Whenever drivers find themselves in a crowded, merge-riddled situation, "each one let one" can make all the difference. One car in from the left... one car in from the right. You let someone in, and then the next person lets you in. So on and so forth, and all will be right with the world.
Rarely, however, does traffic work in such a Utopian way. When we humans are left to our own devices, "survival of the fittest" becomes the all-too-predictable result. Someone will be in a hurry. Someone will feel the least twinge of self-importance. Someone will have the even-bigger SUV. Someone will view the situation as a contest, a battle of the wills, a race to the death -- and they'll cut someone else off at the pass.
But, the laws of the jungle do not apply at the Spring St. ramp. Two traffic lights guard access to 75/85, stationed just in front of each lane as the drivers who occupy them try to enter the fray. One light goes green, the other goes red. The other goes green, and the first goes red. It's "each one let one," technologically enforced by Big Brother himself. One red eye, one green eye, always watching, blinking, controlling.
I like it.
With no regard for a driver's power, wealth, prestige, status, age, IQ or beauty, the lights simply move in rhythm, each one letting one. Sleek or boxy, clunker or stunner, luxury-ride or straight-up hoopty, it makes no difference.
One at a time, one from each lane, no exceptions.
No doubt, the process makes for the easiest merge in town. Of course, once you're on the expressway, you're on your own. That's the problem.
So many times, I think that it would be great if God would just take charge of things a little bit more often. I mean, if we humans are able to design a system that can force us to learn proper merge techniques (even for just a couple of moments), wouldn't you think that God could do the same for our relationships? Really, I'm just asking for a little less competitive "cutting off" and a little more grace-filled "letting in."
Maybe what we often experience on the expressway of life seems more like the free-for-all of 8 lane traffic than an orderly, progressive merge based on fairness and equality.
But perhaps the problem, has more to do with our expectations than with God's actions. It almost always does.
Here's what I mean: Take a few minutes and read Psalm 119. OK, truth in advertising compels me to tell you that it will actually take several minutes to read all 170+ verses. But really, do you have something better to do? No, the MASH re-run on TV is not something better. Just take a look.
Does the psalmist seem just the least bit passive-aggressive with God, or is it just me? I'm not sure this kind of martyrdom / flattery routine works very well on God. "Oh Lord, not one man shall letteth another one mergeth before him, save only I alone" (my paraphrase, in King James Version, of course).
Or my favorite verse, applied to modern traffic, "my eyes shed streams of tears because your law of 'each one let one' is not kept" (136).
But, this psalm sure does say what we sometimes all feel. Life in community is tough when everybody won't follow the rules. It's tough to keep being nice if we feel like we're the only ones trying. The psalmist seems to expect that everyone should act just like he wants them to. The expectation also seems to be that he (we) are always amazingly obedient, and never responsible for any of the problem. If Psalm 119 can teach us that we're not the only ones who've tried to frame God within our expectations, then that's a big lesson learned.
And yet, that's not the whole lesson from the psalm. Psalm 119 is also the source of an often-quoted and much-loved verse. "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path" (119:105). As a kid, I remember singing a song based on that verse in Sunday School and VBS. Somewhere along the way, anybody's who's been to camp or attended contemporary worship has sung it, too.
I guess I always thought the lamp to our feet and light to our path was more like the beam produced by my 4-cell MAG flashlight than a flickering oil wick. God's light has got to be brighter than anything else. We can count on it to keep me in the right spot, and make everything work out just right, just as surely as the traffic light on Spring St., right?
Absolutely. But, it turns out that you don't beam God's light up into the trees, playing with the focus until you spot exactly what you're looking for. You don't adjust the lens and widen the beam until the path and all around it gets lit up like daytime with plenty of lumens to spare.
Rather, God's light is just exactly as the scripture describes it. It's a lamp --- a flicker, producing a circle of light big enough that the next step can be taken in safety. It lights the path, a little at the time, but the next piece doesn't come into view until another step is taken.
There's a big difference between stumbling blindly through the darkness and using a lamp for light. But the great thing about a lamp is that it lets us see just enough. A lamp still requires faith if we're going to take steps down a semi-darkened path.
And so, it's in faith that we go out into the world.
Somebody's going to cut us off in the traffic of relationships and community. Count on it. In Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer says that we often live in the "wish-dream" world with regard to our relationships. We wish that the eye in the sky was there, bringing the order and fairness and predictability for which we sometimes dream. Reality is filled with imperfect people and imperfect relationships, but it's also filled with hope.
What we have is a path. And a lamp. And that's enough.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH
God is Closer Than You Think will conclude tonight at 7p.m. Our monthly supper together happens at 6:30 pm this evening, but feel free to gather a little early if you want. As soon as our food is set up and ready to go, we'll start our meal so that we can begin the book study at 7:00. Thanks to everyone for making this six-week series so meaningful and successful.
Beginning next Wednesday night, we'll begin a three-week study for all of those who are new to our church, and who would just like to learn more about what it means to be United Methodist and a member of Shepherd of the Hills.
10/26 -- John Wesley and United Methodist doctrine and theology
11/2 -- SOTH history, organization and ministries
11/9 -- SOTH vision and mission --- where are we headed? Q & A time included.
Those who are exploring SOTH and considering making us your church home are encouraged to consider attending each of these sessions, and of course anyone in the congregation is more than welcome to attend. We should have a great time together, and as the new pastor here, I'm looking forward to what I'll learn as well.
Each session will begin at 7pm and should last about an hour and a half. Childcare will be provided at the church. Look for signup sheets with childcare requests on your table this Sunday.
MISSISSIPPI MISSION
Don't forget that Tim Potate has organized a trip to Mississippi to help with hurricane relief and recovery efforts. SOTH will roll out on its first out-of-town mission trip the evening of Wednesday night, November 2 with plans to return late on Saturday night, November 5. Contact Tim a.s.a.p. if you'd like to be part of the team. (770) 231-8617.
I just drove through this little marvel for the second time a couple of days ago. And, at the risk of sounding like the hayseed that I really am, I'll have to admit that I've never before seen a traffic light setup exactly like that one. As you ready yourself for the jump into the river of vehicles that floods through the heart of Atlanta each day, you come to see that an electronic hall monitor is hard at work in that place. With exacting demands, she expects good conduct of her pupils. Proper order and decorum is always maintained.
You know the "each one let one" rule of driving, right? If you don't, you really should learn it, for its implementation could do more for the cause of bringing civility to future generations than any other global initiative. Whenever drivers find themselves in a crowded, merge-riddled situation, "each one let one" can make all the difference. One car in from the left... one car in from the right. You let someone in, and then the next person lets you in. So on and so forth, and all will be right with the world.
Rarely, however, does traffic work in such a Utopian way. When we humans are left to our own devices, "survival of the fittest" becomes the all-too-predictable result. Someone will be in a hurry. Someone will feel the least twinge of self-importance. Someone will have the even-bigger SUV. Someone will view the situation as a contest, a battle of the wills, a race to the death -- and they'll cut someone else off at the pass.
But, the laws of the jungle do not apply at the Spring St. ramp. Two traffic lights guard access to 75/85, stationed just in front of each lane as the drivers who occupy them try to enter the fray. One light goes green, the other goes red. The other goes green, and the first goes red. It's "each one let one," technologically enforced by Big Brother himself. One red eye, one green eye, always watching, blinking, controlling.
I like it.
With no regard for a driver's power, wealth, prestige, status, age, IQ or beauty, the lights simply move in rhythm, each one letting one. Sleek or boxy, clunker or stunner, luxury-ride or straight-up hoopty, it makes no difference.
One at a time, one from each lane, no exceptions.
No doubt, the process makes for the easiest merge in town. Of course, once you're on the expressway, you're on your own. That's the problem.
So many times, I think that it would be great if God would just take charge of things a little bit more often. I mean, if we humans are able to design a system that can force us to learn proper merge techniques (even for just a couple of moments), wouldn't you think that God could do the same for our relationships? Really, I'm just asking for a little less competitive "cutting off" and a little more grace-filled "letting in."
Maybe what we often experience on the expressway of life seems more like the free-for-all of 8 lane traffic than an orderly, progressive merge based on fairness and equality.
But perhaps the problem, has more to do with our expectations than with God's actions. It almost always does.
Here's what I mean: Take a few minutes and read Psalm 119. OK, truth in advertising compels me to tell you that it will actually take several minutes to read all 170+ verses. But really, do you have something better to do? No, the MASH re-run on TV is not something better. Just take a look.
Does the psalmist seem just the least bit passive-aggressive with God, or is it just me? I'm not sure this kind of martyrdom / flattery routine works very well on God. "Oh Lord, not one man shall letteth another one mergeth before him, save only I alone" (my paraphrase, in King James Version, of course).
Or my favorite verse, applied to modern traffic, "my eyes shed streams of tears because your law of 'each one let one' is not kept" (136).
But, this psalm sure does say what we sometimes all feel. Life in community is tough when everybody won't follow the rules. It's tough to keep being nice if we feel like we're the only ones trying. The psalmist seems to expect that everyone should act just like he wants them to. The expectation also seems to be that he (we) are always amazingly obedient, and never responsible for any of the problem. If Psalm 119 can teach us that we're not the only ones who've tried to frame God within our expectations, then that's a big lesson learned.
And yet, that's not the whole lesson from the psalm. Psalm 119 is also the source of an often-quoted and much-loved verse. "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path" (119:105). As a kid, I remember singing a song based on that verse in Sunday School and VBS. Somewhere along the way, anybody's who's been to camp or attended contemporary worship has sung it, too.
I guess I always thought the lamp to our feet and light to our path was more like the beam produced by my 4-cell MAG flashlight than a flickering oil wick. God's light has got to be brighter than anything else. We can count on it to keep me in the right spot, and make everything work out just right, just as surely as the traffic light on Spring St., right?
Absolutely. But, it turns out that you don't beam God's light up into the trees, playing with the focus until you spot exactly what you're looking for. You don't adjust the lens and widen the beam until the path and all around it gets lit up like daytime with plenty of lumens to spare.
Rather, God's light is just exactly as the scripture describes it. It's a lamp --- a flicker, producing a circle of light big enough that the next step can be taken in safety. It lights the path, a little at the time, but the next piece doesn't come into view until another step is taken.
There's a big difference between stumbling blindly through the darkness and using a lamp for light. But the great thing about a lamp is that it lets us see just enough. A lamp still requires faith if we're going to take steps down a semi-darkened path.
And so, it's in faith that we go out into the world.
Somebody's going to cut us off in the traffic of relationships and community. Count on it. In Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer says that we often live in the "wish-dream" world with regard to our relationships. We wish that the eye in the sky was there, bringing the order and fairness and predictability for which we sometimes dream. Reality is filled with imperfect people and imperfect relationships, but it's also filled with hope.
What we have is a path. And a lamp. And that's enough.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH
God is Closer Than You Think will conclude tonight at 7p.m. Our monthly supper together happens at 6:30 pm this evening, but feel free to gather a little early if you want. As soon as our food is set up and ready to go, we'll start our meal so that we can begin the book study at 7:00. Thanks to everyone for making this six-week series so meaningful and successful.
Beginning next Wednesday night, we'll begin a three-week study for all of those who are new to our church, and who would just like to learn more about what it means to be United Methodist and a member of Shepherd of the Hills.
10/26 -- John Wesley and United Methodist doctrine and theology
11/2 -- SOTH history, organization and ministries
11/9 -- SOTH vision and mission --- where are we headed? Q & A time included.
Those who are exploring SOTH and considering making us your church home are encouraged to consider attending each of these sessions, and of course anyone in the congregation is more than welcome to attend. We should have a great time together, and as the new pastor here, I'm looking forward to what I'll learn as well.
Each session will begin at 7pm and should last about an hour and a half. Childcare will be provided at the church. Look for signup sheets with childcare requests on your table this Sunday.
MISSISSIPPI MISSION
Don't forget that Tim Potate has organized a trip to Mississippi to help with hurricane relief and recovery efforts. SOTH will roll out on its first out-of-town mission trip the evening of Wednesday night, November 2 with plans to return late on Saturday night, November 5. Contact Tim a.s.a.p. if you'd like to be part of the team. (770) 231-8617.
Oct 12, 2005
Billion
OK, So the Braves are out of the playoffs. At least it's over. Now, onto this week's blog:
How old are you?
That’s right, I asked.
Personally, I’m almost 1 billion seconds old. I plan to celebrate in a big way this November, when I turn the “Big One-Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh.” And man, I thought the day I turned 500,000 seconds old was a tough one.
But really, I’m asking you how old you are just because it’s fun. The question is so much fun precisely because it’s something you’re never, ever supposed to ask. I mean, it’s just rude, isn’t it?
Of all the questions that we’re not supposed to ask in polite society, “how old are you?” might be right at the top of the list. A certain comfort-level and trust has to be established before we ask one another that question, and even then, most folks only ask it of someone that they think is close to their own age, and then just for confirmation.
Why does talking about our age strike us as being so wrong? I think it may be because none of us like to be “reduced.” What I mean is, I hate it when people assume things about me, whether they’re true or not. Actually, it’s probably when things are assumed that are true that I hate it most of all. I don’t like to think that some things can be true of me just because I’m a certain age.
And yet, the reality is that folks absolutely assume things about each of us based on the number of years we’ve been around. Different ages come with different sets of assumptions, with the extreme bad ends of the spectrum ranging from “young and foolish” to “old and feeble.”
There are lots of other questions that people ask which work in exactly the same way.
“What do you do for a living?” tells us what kind of person someone might be, what their likes and dislikes probably are, what they’re good at, and of course, how much money we can assume they make.
In a place like Douglasville, where new neighborhoods come up overnight and most of us live in developed subdivisions, “What neighborhood do you live in?” tells us whether a person is from the same socio-economic class as us, whether our kids might go to the same school, and of course, whether that person’s home costs more or less money than our own.
“Where did you go to school?” is another sort of credential-checker. It tells us where that person fits in the American caste-system of education. With that information, we also know where a person’s football loyalties lie, what connections they might have, and of course, whether their education was more or less expensive (and therefore more or less prestigious) than our own.
And yet, none of those questions are viewed as socially unacceptable.
So, how old are you?
Remember what I said about how I really hate the assumptions that turn out to be true? Well, that’s exactly the problem when it comes to age. The really ugly truth is that lots of my opinions and values and likes and dislikes really do correspond to the time in which I was born, and the stage of life in which I live.
While I have no desire to be pigeonholed before someone even knows me, I also can’t refuse the facts. Some things about me can be pretty reliably predicted based on my age. So what? Is this really such a bad thing?
Lots of folks out in “church world,” (wherever that is) have spent lots of time trying to figure out how generational issues impact our life together as a church. (This is a good link to one study, even if it was undertaken by the Unitarian Universalists!)
Even while running the risk of imposing stereotypes, I have always found their research fascinating and useful. See what you think.
Traditional sociology now divides the last several generations of Americans into:
Builders – Children of the depression who fought World War II. Their values are safety, security, and stability. Loyalty to institutions is high and denominational affiliation matters greatly to them. They have served in great leadership capacities and been the financial base of society. The youngest members of this group are now around 75 years old, and Americans from this group are dying at a rate of about 30,000 per month.
Boomers – Children of the “builders,” boomers represent 1/3 of the American population. Their influence has radically reshaped society and was most visible during the social turbulence of the 1960’s and 70’s. They are non-institutional, “rights” oriented, and take much of their personal identity from their choice of careers and work. Boomers are also known as the “me”generation, marked by deep interest in identity, personal growth and materialism. If you’re roughly between the ages of 60 and 40, congratulations, you’re a boomer!
Gen X’ers – Children of boomers, “Gen X’ers” are the first “postmodern” generation. Shaped by a global sense of inter-connection, cyberspace and the information age, it’s all about “experience” for Gen X’ers. Many X’ers grew up in broken homes and this generation is marked by an emphasis on deep friendship and personal relationships while de-emphasizing the importance of family.
GenX’ers are pragmatic, cynical and entrepreneurial. At the same time, they are deeply resistant to being defined by their work (unlike boomers). A significant mark of this generation is the longing for identity, relationships and community. Also, this is the first American generation for which Christianity has not been cultural or religious assumption. Right now, Gen Xers are somewhere between 40 and 25 years old. This just happens to be the generation of yours truly.
Millenials – Millenials are the first generation to grow up in a post-Cold War world. All the “gurus” are still trying to figure out exactly what their attributes will be, but most think that their experiences as “latchkey” kids and being raised by teams of parents, day care providers and extended families will be contributing factors in their development.
They are high-tech, connected and oriented toward digital entertainment. Multi-cultural experiences have been normal for this group and are viewed more as an expected way of life than an ideal to be attained. Plurality of thought and religious belief is their culture, and most Millenials assume that they will live in a time of continuing economic boom and expansion in the future. Today’s middle, high school and college students form the “Millenial” generation.
Church leaders like Carol Childress, Bill Easum and Sally Morgenthaler, just to name a few, have tried to interpret how generational and cultural shifts will impact the church. Our age may dictate much of what we find important and moving, as well as pleasing, in our church experience.
If societal values really are shifting from “success” to “significance,” and from “individualism” to “community,” this must tell us something about our role as the church.
If “institution” is becoming less important now than “mission,” maybe we have to be aware and learn lessons about the importance of knowing why we exist and what we’re called to do.
If church music has moved from hymn to song and praise chorus, to a new fusion of media, music and image, perhaps we should look at ways to embrace new cultural vehicles so that our culture can be transformed by Christ’s message.
Maybe…just maybe, we should let people ask the question. How old are we?
What does that number tell us about who we are? What does it tell us about what we embrace…and about what we resist? What does it assume about us when it shouldn’t? How can knowing ourselves, and loving one another transform the ways that we go about the business of being Christ’s church?
Maybe we should ask the question in the way that Spanish-speakers do it. Now, believe me, my Spanish is bad. But my understanding of the question in Spanish is “Quantos anos tiene usted?” (Sorry that I don’t know how to put tildes over the “n’s” with my keyboard).
Literally, the question is, “how many years do you have?” I love that. I have the years that God has given me. The seconds --- all one billion of them --- with which has he gifted me to live upon this earth. I am a product of my times, and I accept that fact. But most of all, I want to be a product of the time that God has had to be at work in my heart and in my life. Now that’s spoken like a true Gen X’er.
I remember that the Bible says this: “‘No eye has seen, no ear has heard,
no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him,’ but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit. The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God.” I Corinthians 2:9-10
How old am I? The answer really does tell me some things, and I really want to understand who I am. I want you to know who you are, too. That knowledge will help us be “the church” in bigger and better ways. But most of all, I hope that we all can learn the things God would teach us. I think we can embrace the years we have and still learn a lot from those who’ve lived different days than we have.
I cannot wait to see what God will do with the years we’re yet to have together. Builders, Boomers, X’ers, Millenials --- we are many parts of one body, and we serve the same Christ, our Lord.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Welcome to the Murfrees, our newest members. Jeffrey, Lisa and Jessica come to us by transfer from the great Ben Hill United Methodist Church. We are delighted and honored to count them officially among our number.
Thanks to everyone for a great Church Conference this past Sunday morning. I think that the time of worship together served as a great boost to us all, and really helped us see a glimpse of the direction and momentum that we’re all picking up together. Also, thanks to our D.S., Jacqui Rose-Tucker for an inspiring sermon and a great morning together.
Tonight’s Study: God is Closer Than You Think is drawing toward its conclusion. Tonight we will focus primarily on Ortberg’s discussion of 7 Spiritual Pathways. I’ve found this to be one of the most helpful, practical and enlightening chapters in the book and I want us all to have a really good understanding of that chapter. We’ll meet together next Tuesday night for our final installment. Also, next Wednesday night, October 19th will be our monthly Wednesday night supper.
New Study: On October 26th, November 2nd and November 9th, we’ll do a three-week series that’s all about “Life at SOTH.” This study will be especially intended for those who are new to our church or just checking it out, but it’s absolutely open to everyone. Depending on interest, we’ll plan to meet up at “The Ranch” for a look at United Methodist history and theology, the history of our own congregation, a look at what the future might hold for SOTH, and to do a Q & A roundtable intended to answer any questions that anybody might have – about anything. It should be a great 3 weeks, and sign up sheets will be available this Sunday.
UMW and UMM! Both our men’s and women’s groups voted this week to establish themselves as officially chartered united of United Methodist Men and United Methodist Women. Congratulations to both groups for taking this step of growth! We look forward to all the great ministries that will continue and increase through these groups.
Pumpkins!!! Don’t forget that our pumpkins are coming, but please note an important change! Our pumpkins will not arrive until this Saturday morning, October 15th at 9 AM. We need everybody who’s willing and able to come out and help us unload. Our “patch” is being prepared today as the stumps from our tree-clearing are being ground. Come on by and see what’s going on.
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