Did you know that every day, FedEx handles more than 3.1 million packages?
With those kinds of numbers, they’re bound to make a mistake every now and then. Today, we got to be part of a whopper.
At least this mistake didn’t cause any headaches for us here in the SOTH office. Instead, it created quite a buzz.
It seems that late yesterday afternoon we were the recipients of someone else’s mail.
What a difference a digit makes.
SOTH resides at 4283 Chapel Hill Road in the lovely town of Douglasville, Georgia.
The “Amber Light Escort Service” resides at 4483 Chapel Hill Road in the same lovely town of Douglasville, Georgia, THAT WE DIDN’T KNOW HAD AN ESCORT SERVICE IN IT!!
Suddenly, the brown cardboard box that landed on our office porch didn’t seem so innocent. It was a sign of corruption and sin, right here in River City, where we’ve got trouble that starts with “E” and that stands for ESCORT SERVICE!
It’s not every day that church work yields this kind of excitement. Sandi, our office manager, and I shared a good laugh over the coincidence of crossing a church’s address with that of this slightly less reputable business.
Then, we went back to staring at the box.
“What should we do?” we wondered.
Open it?
Maybe.
…No, definitely not. Well…Maybe.
Should we go on down to 4483 and share the gospel?
Maybe.
No, probably not. Well…maybe.
“What Would Jesus Do?”
We decided Jesus would pick up the phone and call FedEx, so that’s what we did.
SOTH: “I believe we received a shipment by mistake. There was confusion over the address.”
FedEx: “Do you have the routing number? Great. You’re not ‘Amber Light Escort Service?’”
SOTH: “No, we’re a United Methodist Church.”
FedEx: “Oh. …I am SO sorry.”
Now, I know that some of you good readers are preparing, even now, to organize a ministry to the broken souls down at the “Amber Light.”
I know that you may be plotting the best way to bring ‘em to Jesus, and/or run ‘em out of town.
You might want the following info first:
A few minutes after leaving the office today, Sandi called my phone. “I had to check it out,” she said, laughing. “Amber Light Escort Service….provides escort for oversized loads that have to be moved down the highway.”
“Well,” I said, relieved…and just a little disappointed at the loss of the day’s scandal and intrigue, “at least I know what I’m writing about today.”
I seem to remember an old saying that says “assume” makes “something” out of both “u” and “me,” right?
Old sayings hang around for a reason. First impressions, initial judgments, seemingly foolproof assumptions --- can all be dead wrong.
One study says that websites make their first impressions on viewers within 1/20th of a second. But we’d do well to take more time in really evaluating content, whether in a website, an organization, an “escort service,” or a person.
When I sit next to someone on a plane, and the inevitable “what-do-you-do-for-a-living” question comes along, I usually look them straight in the eye and say, “I work in non-profit.”
You see, “I’m a pastor” is a cover that all too easily leads to a mis-judging of the book. It can also make for a really, really long plane ride for yours truly. Every person has a specific pigeon-hole in which they place those of us who carry that title. Their prejudices vary as widely as their individual experiences of clergy and the church, for good or for bad.
I wonder what the folks down at the “Amber Light” think of us when they get packages for that “church” just up the road? What assumptions get made about those of us who carry the name of “Christ”ians?
Here’s a plan: If we’ve ever earned a bad reputation, let’s own up to it. If people pre-judge us wrongly, let’s forgive them and show them where the wrong assumptions have been made.
Let’s make a new name for ourselves.
"They'll know you by your love," Jesus said.
Amen to that.
Grace & Peace,
Adam
PS -- Happy Administrative Professionals Day to Sandi Hockensmith, who gives of herself in service to SOTH UMC every single week, we are truly blessed by her work!
Apr 26, 2006
Apr 19, 2006
Endurance
If you’ve known me long at all, you know that I live and die with the Atlanta Braves. I was first introduced to them via TBS (Back then it was “W”TBS, The Superstation).
Growing up in West Tennessee, many of my friends were St. Louis Cardinals fans. Whether you leaned toward St. Louis or Atlanta, any major league baseball stadium was a good day’s drive away. Seeing a game in person was a rare luxury indeed, reserved for maybe once a season.
A strange thing happens when you follow a baseball team, day in, day out, year after year. Over the course of 162 games each season, you really begin to feel that you know the guys on the field. Their sporting lives unfold like a soap opera, with a new chapter written each afternoon or evening.
Eventually, you come to know something of each player's tendency, attitude and personality on the field. A real fan can anticipate whether Andruw will bite on the 2-2 pitch low and away, or whether he’ll take that one this time, waiting for a mistake --- something he can drive.
Every off season brings losses and additions to “the family.” Each new season presents its own challenges and possibilities.
This spring, I’ve been tempted to add Jeff Francoeur to our prayer list, but have managed to refrain from that act so far. If he doesn’t gain some patience at the plate by May, we may have no choice.
I remember, as a child, hearing a story about a little old lady in Atlanta that simply blew my mind. She got to see the Braves play, in person, every single day.
She bought season tickets to the Atlanta “Crackers” home games (Atlanta’s minor league team) way back in 1936. She attended every home game for the next 30 years. When the Braves moved to Atlanta 40 years ago, she carried over her tradition, attending every home Braves’ game from 1966 until failing health finally ended her streak in 1990.
When Braves’ owner Ted Turner heard about her streak in 1975, he gave her a “free pass for life.”
She promptly bought the adjoining seat for her purse.
To this day, one seat at Turner Field bears a plaque in her honor, and remains unsold at every single home game. Even though she never got to go to a game at the new stadium, her presence is there as the Braves honor her amazing commitment and endurance.
Pearl Sandow, aged 103 years, died this Monday.
I know this is a little “out there,” but I just can’t help thinking of Ms. Sandow as a kind of baseball “Moses.” She endured some very, very bad Braves’ times. In the 24 years she attended all those Braves’ games, they only won two division titles. They never got to a World Series.
In 1990, the final year of her attendance streak, the Braves finished dead last, capping one of the worst periods of losing in the club’s history.
In 1991 they finished first, won the playoffs and almost took the world series.
Four years later, they would finally win it all, entering the promised land by beating the Cleveland Indians in Game 6, 1-0. The line score of that game is still posted at Turner Field.
Indians 0, Braves 1.
And Ms. Sandow wasn’t there to see it.
But I bet her retirement facility was rocking and rolling with celebration.
Moses didn’t enter the promise land, after years and years of doing his best to get there. He glimpsed it, he new that God would make good on his promise to his people, and then he rested from his labors. For years and years, he showed up. Even though he was not confident in his gifts or abilities, he was consistently available to God.
Sometimes, just showing up, every single time…is enough to make a difference.
Greatness, whether in things of faith or baseball, pretty much always starts with…just showing up. There’s just not much that can happen in our hearts, or in our lives, unless we’re available in the first place.
Growing up in small Methodist churches, I can always remember the elderly (at least in my mind) little ladies who would proudly wear their “Sunday School pins,” – rewards for perfect attendance.
Some of them had gone decades without missing a single Sunday morning. As I got older, I can remember being cynical about their accomplishment and thinking that their little pins seemed like the height of self-righteousness and silliness. "They care more about 'the streak' than Jesus," I believed.
Maybe I had a little self-righteousness issue of my own.
Older now, and with better perspective, I can see the importance of what they accomplished, and the reason for their pride. There is value in showing up.
Pearl Sandow showed up, and a lot happened in the process. Players got to know her, and they continued to call and visit her throughout the last years of her life. She was there one day when Jerry Royster made three errors and sat, crying, in the dugout. She talked to him, encouraged him, and he never forgot it.
Though she never married or had children of her own, her unrelenting presence gave birth to status as the Braves’ “team mom.” All because she decided to show up.
The thing is, you just never know what might happen -- but nothing can happen if you're not willing to show up in the first place.
God is calling each of us to show up for something. If you don’t know what that is just yet – keep showing up where you are. Presence, availability, and endurance: they are gifts from God, and they will be honored.
I’ll see you this Sunday (and we might even work out a free lifetime pass),
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Welcome to new members Lyn Cook and Wendell Felch, who both joined this Sunday by Profession of Faith. Already this year, SOTH has received 20 new professing members, and added 8 children to our preparatory roll!
Monthly Supper Tonight: Don’t forget, we’ll gather for our monthly community meal tonight at the church, 6:30 pm. Good to Great study will follow, around 7pm, at “The Ranch.”
Upcoming Sermon Series: The Da Vinci Code. Tom Hanks will soon star in a motion picture release of “The Da Vinci Code,” and both the movie and book it’s based on have generated many questions about Christian history. Beginning Sunday, April 30th, we’ll spend three weeks looking at some of those questions and working to sort fact from fiction. Invite your friends and neighbors to this special series.
“Church Conference” this Sunday at 10:00 a.m. At our late worship service this Sunday, we will have a short “church conference” time to adopt some revisions in church officers and ministry teams for the remainder of 2006.
RACK: Send us your stories! sandi@sothumc.net
Since I seldom go anywhere that I see lots of people, I knew God would bring somebody to me eventually. I waited for just the right person to come along. Finally, I decided I wasn't supposed to decide who the right person was, so I vowed to get rid of the envelope as soon as I could!
When I was on my way to lunch, there was a decidedly sorry man at the exit from 20 to Fairburn Rd., so I rolled down my window and handed him the envelope. He told me repeatedly that God loved me, shook my hand and introduced himself. He continued to ramble on, and, in the midst of his ramblings said, "Can I have your car too?!"
A third-grade neighbor kid had glasses with a broken frame. His Mom taped the frame and he wore them like that for several months. He was kidded, of course, by the other kids but he acted like he didn't care.
I saved all my change and 'extra' money and had almost enough for an eye exam and new glasses for the boy, and the RACK envelope made up the difference.
This was the answer to a prayer because I had prayed about how to offer the money to his Mom. The envelope solved the problem, and they didn't have to know that any of the money was from me. My little friend has new glasses!
Growing up in West Tennessee, many of my friends were St. Louis Cardinals fans. Whether you leaned toward St. Louis or Atlanta, any major league baseball stadium was a good day’s drive away. Seeing a game in person was a rare luxury indeed, reserved for maybe once a season.
A strange thing happens when you follow a baseball team, day in, day out, year after year. Over the course of 162 games each season, you really begin to feel that you know the guys on the field. Their sporting lives unfold like a soap opera, with a new chapter written each afternoon or evening.
Eventually, you come to know something of each player's tendency, attitude and personality on the field. A real fan can anticipate whether Andruw will bite on the 2-2 pitch low and away, or whether he’ll take that one this time, waiting for a mistake --- something he can drive.
Every off season brings losses and additions to “the family.” Each new season presents its own challenges and possibilities.
This spring, I’ve been tempted to add Jeff Francoeur to our prayer list, but have managed to refrain from that act so far. If he doesn’t gain some patience at the plate by May, we may have no choice.
I remember, as a child, hearing a story about a little old lady in Atlanta that simply blew my mind. She got to see the Braves play, in person, every single day.
She bought season tickets to the Atlanta “Crackers” home games (Atlanta’s minor league team) way back in 1936. She attended every home game for the next 30 years. When the Braves moved to Atlanta 40 years ago, she carried over her tradition, attending every home Braves’ game from 1966 until failing health finally ended her streak in 1990.
When Braves’ owner Ted Turner heard about her streak in 1975, he gave her a “free pass for life.”
She promptly bought the adjoining seat for her purse.
To this day, one seat at Turner Field bears a plaque in her honor, and remains unsold at every single home game. Even though she never got to go to a game at the new stadium, her presence is there as the Braves honor her amazing commitment and endurance.
Pearl Sandow, aged 103 years, died this Monday.
I know this is a little “out there,” but I just can’t help thinking of Ms. Sandow as a kind of baseball “Moses.” She endured some very, very bad Braves’ times. In the 24 years she attended all those Braves’ games, they only won two division titles. They never got to a World Series.
In 1990, the final year of her attendance streak, the Braves finished dead last, capping one of the worst periods of losing in the club’s history.
In 1991 they finished first, won the playoffs and almost took the world series.
Four years later, they would finally win it all, entering the promised land by beating the Cleveland Indians in Game 6, 1-0. The line score of that game is still posted at Turner Field.
Indians 0, Braves 1.
And Ms. Sandow wasn’t there to see it.
But I bet her retirement facility was rocking and rolling with celebration.
Moses didn’t enter the promise land, after years and years of doing his best to get there. He glimpsed it, he new that God would make good on his promise to his people, and then he rested from his labors. For years and years, he showed up. Even though he was not confident in his gifts or abilities, he was consistently available to God.
Sometimes, just showing up, every single time…is enough to make a difference.
Greatness, whether in things of faith or baseball, pretty much always starts with…just showing up. There’s just not much that can happen in our hearts, or in our lives, unless we’re available in the first place.
Growing up in small Methodist churches, I can always remember the elderly (at least in my mind) little ladies who would proudly wear their “Sunday School pins,” – rewards for perfect attendance.
Some of them had gone decades without missing a single Sunday morning. As I got older, I can remember being cynical about their accomplishment and thinking that their little pins seemed like the height of self-righteousness and silliness. "They care more about 'the streak' than Jesus," I believed.
Maybe I had a little self-righteousness issue of my own.
Older now, and with better perspective, I can see the importance of what they accomplished, and the reason for their pride. There is value in showing up.
Pearl Sandow showed up, and a lot happened in the process. Players got to know her, and they continued to call and visit her throughout the last years of her life. She was there one day when Jerry Royster made three errors and sat, crying, in the dugout. She talked to him, encouraged him, and he never forgot it.
Though she never married or had children of her own, her unrelenting presence gave birth to status as the Braves’ “team mom.” All because she decided to show up.
The thing is, you just never know what might happen -- but nothing can happen if you're not willing to show up in the first place.
God is calling each of us to show up for something. If you don’t know what that is just yet – keep showing up where you are. Presence, availability, and endurance: they are gifts from God, and they will be honored.
I’ll see you this Sunday (and we might even work out a free lifetime pass),
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Welcome to new members Lyn Cook and Wendell Felch, who both joined this Sunday by Profession of Faith. Already this year, SOTH has received 20 new professing members, and added 8 children to our preparatory roll!
Monthly Supper Tonight: Don’t forget, we’ll gather for our monthly community meal tonight at the church, 6:30 pm. Good to Great study will follow, around 7pm, at “The Ranch.”
Upcoming Sermon Series: The Da Vinci Code. Tom Hanks will soon star in a motion picture release of “The Da Vinci Code,” and both the movie and book it’s based on have generated many questions about Christian history. Beginning Sunday, April 30th, we’ll spend three weeks looking at some of those questions and working to sort fact from fiction. Invite your friends and neighbors to this special series.
“Church Conference” this Sunday at 10:00 a.m. At our late worship service this Sunday, we will have a short “church conference” time to adopt some revisions in church officers and ministry teams for the remainder of 2006.
RACK: Send us your stories! sandi@sothumc.net
Since I seldom go anywhere that I see lots of people, I knew God would bring somebody to me eventually. I waited for just the right person to come along. Finally, I decided I wasn't supposed to decide who the right person was, so I vowed to get rid of the envelope as soon as I could!
When I was on my way to lunch, there was a decidedly sorry man at the exit from 20 to Fairburn Rd., so I rolled down my window and handed him the envelope. He told me repeatedly that God loved me, shook my hand and introduced himself. He continued to ramble on, and, in the midst of his ramblings said, "Can I have your car too?!"
A third-grade neighbor kid had glasses with a broken frame. His Mom taped the frame and he wore them like that for several months. He was kidded, of course, by the other kids but he acted like he didn't care.
I saved all my change and 'extra' money and had almost enough for an eye exam and new glasses for the boy, and the RACK envelope made up the difference.
This was the answer to a prayer because I had prayed about how to offer the money to his Mom. The envelope solved the problem, and they didn't have to know that any of the money was from me. My little friend has new glasses!
Apr 12, 2006
Options
Early this morning, when I picked up my cell phone for the first time today, I realized that I’d received a voice mail the night before.
I flipped the phone open, punched the message button, and heard a different voice. This was not the mechanical, robot-woman voice I was used to. It was somebody else. A new mechanical, robot-voice lady had forced her way into my life.
“Your voicemail has changed,” she informed me.
What? Who is this cyborg woman to think that she can just blow into town and start changing stuff? And, what did she do with old mechanical, robot-voice lady, anyway?
This was not good. I hadn’t even had my second cup of coffee.
She really didn’t care. “You need to choose a new password,” she told me. “Take a few seconds, and think of one now.”
Wow. That’s some kind of pressure.
I did the best I could under the low-caffeine circumstances, and apparently my password choice was satisfactory. She was only momentarily appeased, however, and continued to drag me by force through many more prompts and cues, including the dreaded, “please record a new greeting now, beep!”
With the future of my telecommunications life at stake, I struggled to cope with the pace of change and the swath of new mailbox opportunities that swirled before me.
Finally, as I satisfied the final of her direct demands for change, she spoke the magic words: “Press 4 to change your options.”
Not kidding. That’s what she said.
I stood at the precipice, deciding whether to jump.
Just for emphasis, and to prod the undecided, she repeated herself. I swear she got slower and louder the second time.
“Press 4 to change your options.”
I am way too metaphorical a dude to say something like that to. For a second, my right thumb hovered over the “4” button.
I folded the phone shut, placed it on the dresser, and backed away -- slowly.
Who knows the potential evil that lurked inside that sub-menu? My “voicemail stuff” might never have been the same.
2,000 years ago this week, the disciples were running out of options.
The world was closing in, their leader was treading on ever-thinning ice, and Jerusalem seemed more dangerous every day. They were just over 24 hours from a final meal…an arrest…a mock trial…beating…humiliation…fear…denial…death.
By Saturday, the world that had once seemed so full of possibility and hope seemed dark and cold. Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried.
On the third day… he reset more than their voicemail.
Lots of people try lots of things when they’re desperate to cope with change, or desperate to find some new options. Most of us just tinker with the buttons, re-recording the same old message in a hundred different ways.
One thing works --- just one thing.
…When the gardener saw her, she was an incredible mess. Wrenched by sobs and trembling with emotion, she was a perfect picture of anger and pain. He needed to say something…anything.
“Woman,” he said, “why are you crying?”
Broken, weeping, she was a woman devoid of options. Death had filled her world.
Choking back the tears, mustering all she had left, she worked up the words. “Tell me where you put him.”
“Mary,” he said.
Time stood still in the split-seconds that followed. His voice hit her eardrum, filtered through her brain, matched with memories too important to be lost, and emerged in recognition... “Teacher?”
TEACHER!
Resurrection. God pressed the “4” button, and our options will never be the same.
Happy Easter!
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Our continuing study of Jim Collins’ Good to Great will meet tonight at the church, 6:30 pm to look at “Confronting the Brutal Facts, but Never Losing Hope.”
Good Friday service will be help this Friday night at the church, 7pm. David Rahn and the praise band will lead us as volunteers read the scripture story of Holy Week. Our worship will be a “service of shadows” as candles are extinguished until only darkness remains. We depart Good Friday night worship in silence, symbolic of the death of Christ on the cross.
Don’t forget to sign up for the Easter Egg hunt to be held at Armin and Jonl Steinke’s home on Oak Hill Road, 10 AM this Saturday. E-mail your rsvp to Kathryn Beasley, Kathryn@sothumc.net
On Easter Sunday we will offer worship at 7:00 a.m. (sunrise service at the pavillion), 8:30 and 10:00. The music will be wonderful, and we will introduce our new Puppet Ministry for children’s Sunday School! Bring any blooming plants from your home to place in our flowering cross at the church entrance. This great tradition is a powerful visual symbol of resurrection for the community.
SERVANT EVANGELISM UPDATE:
Thank you to Tim Potate and everyone who worked to make the servant evangelism “$1 Car Wash” happen this past Saturday. Nearly 60 vehicles from the community were washed, but we didn’t raise money, we gave it away! Every car received a good wash, and the drives got a $1 bill and a card saying “God Loves You a Lot. If you ever need help, 770-920-1551.” God will bless the seeds of grace planted by this event. Great job!
Random Acts of Christian Kindness: RACK Ministry Update
Send us your stories! sandi@sothumc.net
"When Adam began talking about this neat ministry, one of the people that
works for me immediately came to my mind. I dismissed that thought because I thought
I would have an opportunity to give it to a stranger. I'm not sure why I thought it
had to be a stranger, but there you go.
Anyway, over the last few weeks since we received our envelopes, I fully expected to see one of the homeless people that I see everyday because I work in Atlanta. I have not seen a single one. I then thought I would see someone in the grocery store that God would lead me to give the envelope to, but that did not happen either.
In the meantime, this lady that works for me is taking care of her very
ill father, her mother, who is divorced from her father and lives alone, had a
stroke, her fiancé had a heart attack, while on the phone with her, and her son spent a
weekend in jail due to a clerical error at the DMV. This week she was told that they
have figured out what is wrong with her father, he has leukemia and it is in his bone
marrow.
I gave her the envelope yesterday. I explained the ministry and that even
though she is a Christian and knows God loves her, I thought she may need to hear it
right now. She was so grateful and was tearful. She said she was wondering how she was going to pay parking at the hospital the next day.
I'm not sure why I was so sure that it had to be a stranger but I'm glad I finally listened
to God! I'm looking for my next opportunity!"
I flipped the phone open, punched the message button, and heard a different voice. This was not the mechanical, robot-woman voice I was used to. It was somebody else. A new mechanical, robot-voice lady had forced her way into my life.
“Your voicemail has changed,” she informed me.
What? Who is this cyborg woman to think that she can just blow into town and start changing stuff? And, what did she do with old mechanical, robot-voice lady, anyway?
This was not good. I hadn’t even had my second cup of coffee.
She really didn’t care. “You need to choose a new password,” she told me. “Take a few seconds, and think of one now.”
Wow. That’s some kind of pressure.
I did the best I could under the low-caffeine circumstances, and apparently my password choice was satisfactory. She was only momentarily appeased, however, and continued to drag me by force through many more prompts and cues, including the dreaded, “please record a new greeting now, beep!”
With the future of my telecommunications life at stake, I struggled to cope with the pace of change and the swath of new mailbox opportunities that swirled before me.
Finally, as I satisfied the final of her direct demands for change, she spoke the magic words: “Press 4 to change your options.”
Not kidding. That’s what she said.
I stood at the precipice, deciding whether to jump.
Just for emphasis, and to prod the undecided, she repeated herself. I swear she got slower and louder the second time.
“Press 4 to change your options.”
I am way too metaphorical a dude to say something like that to. For a second, my right thumb hovered over the “4” button.
I folded the phone shut, placed it on the dresser, and backed away -- slowly.
Who knows the potential evil that lurked inside that sub-menu? My “voicemail stuff” might never have been the same.
2,000 years ago this week, the disciples were running out of options.
The world was closing in, their leader was treading on ever-thinning ice, and Jerusalem seemed more dangerous every day. They were just over 24 hours from a final meal…an arrest…a mock trial…beating…humiliation…fear…denial…death.
By Saturday, the world that had once seemed so full of possibility and hope seemed dark and cold. Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried.
On the third day… he reset more than their voicemail.
Lots of people try lots of things when they’re desperate to cope with change, or desperate to find some new options. Most of us just tinker with the buttons, re-recording the same old message in a hundred different ways.
One thing works --- just one thing.
…When the gardener saw her, she was an incredible mess. Wrenched by sobs and trembling with emotion, she was a perfect picture of anger and pain. He needed to say something…anything.
“Woman,” he said, “why are you crying?”
Broken, weeping, she was a woman devoid of options. Death had filled her world.
Choking back the tears, mustering all she had left, she worked up the words. “Tell me where you put him.”
“Mary,” he said.
Time stood still in the split-seconds that followed. His voice hit her eardrum, filtered through her brain, matched with memories too important to be lost, and emerged in recognition... “Teacher?”
TEACHER!
Resurrection. God pressed the “4” button, and our options will never be the same.
Happy Easter!
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Our continuing study of Jim Collins’ Good to Great will meet tonight at the church, 6:30 pm to look at “Confronting the Brutal Facts, but Never Losing Hope.”
Good Friday service will be help this Friday night at the church, 7pm. David Rahn and the praise band will lead us as volunteers read the scripture story of Holy Week. Our worship will be a “service of shadows” as candles are extinguished until only darkness remains. We depart Good Friday night worship in silence, symbolic of the death of Christ on the cross.
Don’t forget to sign up for the Easter Egg hunt to be held at Armin and Jonl Steinke’s home on Oak Hill Road, 10 AM this Saturday. E-mail your rsvp to Kathryn Beasley, Kathryn@sothumc.net
On Easter Sunday we will offer worship at 7:00 a.m. (sunrise service at the pavillion), 8:30 and 10:00. The music will be wonderful, and we will introduce our new Puppet Ministry for children’s Sunday School! Bring any blooming plants from your home to place in our flowering cross at the church entrance. This great tradition is a powerful visual symbol of resurrection for the community.
SERVANT EVANGELISM UPDATE:
Thank you to Tim Potate and everyone who worked to make the servant evangelism “$1 Car Wash” happen this past Saturday. Nearly 60 vehicles from the community were washed, but we didn’t raise money, we gave it away! Every car received a good wash, and the drives got a $1 bill and a card saying “God Loves You a Lot. If you ever need help, 770-920-1551.” God will bless the seeds of grace planted by this event. Great job!
Random Acts of Christian Kindness: RACK Ministry Update
Send us your stories! sandi@sothumc.net
"When Adam began talking about this neat ministry, one of the people that
works for me immediately came to my mind. I dismissed that thought because I thought
I would have an opportunity to give it to a stranger. I'm not sure why I thought it
had to be a stranger, but there you go.
Anyway, over the last few weeks since we received our envelopes, I fully expected to see one of the homeless people that I see everyday because I work in Atlanta. I have not seen a single one. I then thought I would see someone in the grocery store that God would lead me to give the envelope to, but that did not happen either.
In the meantime, this lady that works for me is taking care of her very
ill father, her mother, who is divorced from her father and lives alone, had a
stroke, her fiancé had a heart attack, while on the phone with her, and her son spent a
weekend in jail due to a clerical error at the DMV. This week she was told that they
have figured out what is wrong with her father, he has leukemia and it is in his bone
marrow.
I gave her the envelope yesterday. I explained the ministry and that even
though she is a Christian and knows God loves her, I thought she may need to hear it
right now. She was so grateful and was tearful. She said she was wondering how she was going to pay parking at the hospital the next day.
I'm not sure why I was so sure that it had to be a stranger but I'm glad I finally listened
to God! I'm looking for my next opportunity!"
Apr 6, 2006
Question
Two Problems:
First, the modern problem (18th - 20th centuries) of believing only in that which we can clearly understand, reduce and catalog.
Second, and even worse, the “post-modern” problem (20th century to present) of our world. Since we’ve learned that we can’t ever know everything about anything, and because we’ve been burned so many times by what we thought we knew, or by what we foolishly believed we could trust, we simply choose not to believe at all.
In short, we decide to take our spiritual marbles and go home.
One of the great interests of my Christian life (which is my vocational life, too -- I am a pastor, after all) is to find a way to speak the Gospel to my own cynical, post-modern generation. I believe that there’s plenty of room inside faith to ask “the questions.” In fact, faith is the only real place to ask them.
I just don’t want people to stop believing that there can be real answers.
That very same impulse has led well-meaning Christians to go on quests for “holy grails” of all kinds. If only we could prove the Bible archaeologically, historically. If only we could unearth some piece of Noah’s Ark, or wood from the True Cross, or locate the Garden of Eden or find an ancient Egyptian scroll that would verify the plagues on Pharoah and the Exodus of God’s people.
Then everyone would believe, right?
Things are never that simple.
Archaeology, paleontology or science of any stripe can’t prove or disprove faith, anymore than faith can validate science.
But that fact doesn’t stop people from trying, on either side of the issue. This week, a new study will run in the Journal of the American Heart Association that claims to scientifically prove that prayer has no impact on health, except perhaps a slightly negative one.
We can’t overlook the tragic comedy of this venture. I have no doubt that the sociologists, psychologists, and medical doctors did their very best to quantify the results of prayer. They looked for a way to take out prayer organs, and weigh them on the autopsy scale. They tried to control all the variables, which are first impossible to completely identify and second, impossible to control. They worked hard, and with great honesty and integrity, to quantify that which is defies quantification.
And then they said, “hey, this thing doesn’t work.”
Funny, that’s exactly what I would say if I declared that my Master of Divinity degree made me a computer expert, then took a hammer and bashed in my hard drive.
Someone out there does have it right. Dr. Richard Sloan, a professor of behavioral medicine at Columbia University said about the study, “ "The problem with studying religion scientifically is that you do violence to the phenomenon by reducing it to basic elements that can be quantified, and that makes for bad science and bad religion."
Amen, doc.
Post-modern cynics and scared Christians actually have a lot in common. They both do violence to faith if they have to find proof.
Yesterday I heard about an oceanographer who put forth the theory that the Sea of Galilee was experiencing a cold snap 2,000 years ago, and that Jesus actually walked on blocks of ice, submerged just beneath the surface.
He didn’t say what a regular guy who couldn’t walk on water would be doing out of the boat on a partially frozen lake, ice dancing.
Know what? If you’re a Christian, and his assertion makes you mad, ask yourself why. Do his ideas really shake your faith? Can we not withstand the question?
If you’re not a Christian, does that theory make you feel more confident in your decision not to believe? Why does it?
Do you know the real reason why some people in our world today don’t believe in God?
I think it might have more to do with people of “faith” who kill other people over cartoon images than with the cartoons themselves. I think it might have more to do with folks who spout anger and venom over studies and ice-theories, than with the studies and the theories themselves.
I like what Paul had to say. The Apostle, not The Beatle, though he had some good things to say, too:
“When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.”
Faith isn’t human wisdom. It’s not lofty words. Sometimes it’s not even really plausible.
It’s a demonstration. It’s life lived.
It’s not the enemy of science, inquiry or question. It’s the only real answer.
I’ll never forget how my New Testament seminary class started at that first lecture, years ago. My professor, a brilliant, prolific, deeply respected product of the Ivy League said, “On that first Easter morning 2,000 years ago…something happened.”
I can’t prove it…and I don’t need to.
I believe it. Let’s live it.
Easter is coming.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
First, the modern problem (18th - 20th centuries) of believing only in that which we can clearly understand, reduce and catalog.
Second, and even worse, the “post-modern” problem (20th century to present) of our world. Since we’ve learned that we can’t ever know everything about anything, and because we’ve been burned so many times by what we thought we knew, or by what we foolishly believed we could trust, we simply choose not to believe at all.
In short, we decide to take our spiritual marbles and go home.
One of the great interests of my Christian life (which is my vocational life, too -- I am a pastor, after all) is to find a way to speak the Gospel to my own cynical, post-modern generation. I believe that there’s plenty of room inside faith to ask “the questions.” In fact, faith is the only real place to ask them.
I just don’t want people to stop believing that there can be real answers.
That very same impulse has led well-meaning Christians to go on quests for “holy grails” of all kinds. If only we could prove the Bible archaeologically, historically. If only we could unearth some piece of Noah’s Ark, or wood from the True Cross, or locate the Garden of Eden or find an ancient Egyptian scroll that would verify the plagues on Pharoah and the Exodus of God’s people.
Then everyone would believe, right?
Things are never that simple.
Archaeology, paleontology or science of any stripe can’t prove or disprove faith, anymore than faith can validate science.
But that fact doesn’t stop people from trying, on either side of the issue. This week, a new study will run in the Journal of the American Heart Association that claims to scientifically prove that prayer has no impact on health, except perhaps a slightly negative one.
We can’t overlook the tragic comedy of this venture. I have no doubt that the sociologists, psychologists, and medical doctors did their very best to quantify the results of prayer. They looked for a way to take out prayer organs, and weigh them on the autopsy scale. They tried to control all the variables, which are first impossible to completely identify and second, impossible to control. They worked hard, and with great honesty and integrity, to quantify that which is defies quantification.
And then they said, “hey, this thing doesn’t work.”
Funny, that’s exactly what I would say if I declared that my Master of Divinity degree made me a computer expert, then took a hammer and bashed in my hard drive.
Someone out there does have it right. Dr. Richard Sloan, a professor of behavioral medicine at Columbia University said about the study, “ "The problem with studying religion scientifically is that you do violence to the phenomenon by reducing it to basic elements that can be quantified, and that makes for bad science and bad religion."
Amen, doc.
Post-modern cynics and scared Christians actually have a lot in common. They both do violence to faith if they have to find proof.
Yesterday I heard about an oceanographer who put forth the theory that the Sea of Galilee was experiencing a cold snap 2,000 years ago, and that Jesus actually walked on blocks of ice, submerged just beneath the surface.
He didn’t say what a regular guy who couldn’t walk on water would be doing out of the boat on a partially frozen lake, ice dancing.
Know what? If you’re a Christian, and his assertion makes you mad, ask yourself why. Do his ideas really shake your faith? Can we not withstand the question?
If you’re not a Christian, does that theory make you feel more confident in your decision not to believe? Why does it?
Do you know the real reason why some people in our world today don’t believe in God?
I think it might have more to do with people of “faith” who kill other people over cartoon images than with the cartoons themselves. I think it might have more to do with folks who spout anger and venom over studies and ice-theories, than with the studies and the theories themselves.
I like what Paul had to say. The Apostle, not The Beatle, though he had some good things to say, too:
“When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.”
Faith isn’t human wisdom. It’s not lofty words. Sometimes it’s not even really plausible.
It’s a demonstration. It’s life lived.
It’s not the enemy of science, inquiry or question. It’s the only real answer.
I’ll never forget how my New Testament seminary class started at that first lecture, years ago. My professor, a brilliant, prolific, deeply respected product of the Ivy League said, “On that first Easter morning 2,000 years ago…something happened.”
I can’t prove it…and I don’t need to.
I believe it. Let’s live it.
Easter is coming.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
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