Gloucester Cathedral and the baptismal font where George Whitefield was christened, St. Mary's de Crypt.
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!
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