There is little in modern American life more fascinating than Tee Ball.
12 weeks ago, I was an ignorant and idealistic. I was uninitiated in the realities of this fiery, parental rite of passage.
No longer.
Tee ball is baseball that was washed too long in hot water. Everything is shrunken, miniaturized, calibrated for the little arms and legs of 5 and 6 year old sluggers.
I have learned some interesting things this spring:
No, all people cannot, by instinct, find first base. Some will run toward third. Truly, I am not kidding.
A 5-man pile-up in the outfield will make you laugh out loud, no matter what kind of day you’ve been having. Oh yeah, and there are usually about 7 outfielders.
No matter how hard you work, infielders don’t know whether they should step on the base or tag the runner. They will do both, all the time, so just go with it. …At least, you hope they will.
...They might just stand there. It just depends which way the wind is blowing. The Holy Spirit blows where it will, you know.
I have learned that a grown man of 32-years-old might actually lose perspective in the course of the season so badly as to make a statement like: “man, the guys were really flat today. We’ve been hitting the ball so well the last few games, but today we just couldn’t put any hits together.”
Thankfully, I have a wonderful wife who always knows the right things to say, things like, “wow, you’d think 5 and 6 year olds would be more consistent, huh?”
In the silent moment that passes, I almost say, “yeah, really,” only to look up just in time to catch her eye and see that she’s laughing at me. Thank God.
I have also learned that the same grown man really can be reduced to scratching through a tee ball lineup over and over, trying to find the right mix of playing time for everybody while maintaining an outside shot at victory.
It is now true that there's a group of people out there who probably don't even know my last name, but they know me as "Coach Adam." That's actually even weirder for me than "Reverend."
It’s amazing, really.
Don't get me wrong, there have been some wonderful moments. There have been moments of brilliance when you see the first glimmer of pride in the eyes of a little player who just did something they didn’t think they could do. There has been laughter and celebration, some pain and tears (not mine, it hasn't gotten that bad), but generally a fun time for everybody.
But the most amazing part of teeball, bar none, is not the players on the field…it’s the parents in the stands.
I’ll confess, I’m coaching the team because I didn’t think I could bear the experience of sitting outside the fence, watching from a distance. “Tee Ball parent” is not an easy role for anybody.
Let’s just say that “calm,” “balance,” and “perspective,” are not concepts that thrive in a ballpark environment and leave it at that.
Most of us struggle for calm, balance and perspective when it comes to our kids, and that’s a shame. It’s a shame because the very biggest thing I’ve learned this spring is that the kids will do just fine, if we’ll let them. They’re usually having a blast in spite of us. I've become convinced that perspective is one of the best gifts we can give them, even though they don't usually want it.
Tournament time starts this weekend (pray for me), and we’ve got a big, killer practice planned for Thursday night. Coach Crazy here is actually already thinking of ways to motivate the troops.
I tried out my strategy last night on my own little slugger. “Will,” I said, “are you pumped up and ready to play tonight?”
“Yeah!” he said, really excited. I was so proud. “Man,” I thought, “ he can’t wait to hit the ball, run hard, play great.”
Then he told me the reason for his excitement. “Mom said she’s gonna buy me a hot dog tonight!!”
Right.
This morning, I had the privilege of making the welcome and praying at the SOTH Preschool Mother’s Day Tea. As a power point of photos from the preschool year played on our screens, “Let Them Be Little,” by Billy Dean played in the background.
I know, the lyrics are corny and you only like this kind of thing if you’re an old mom or dad, but you know what, sometimes corny is good:
“So let them be little,
'Cause they're only that way for a while.
Give 'em hope, give them praise,
Give them love every day.
Let 'em cry, let 'em giggle,
Let 'em sleep in the middle,
Oh, but let them be little.”
Last night at our game, I took a moment to look at the stands on both sides of the field. They were full of parents who hung on every pitch, cheering for their kid, yelling and carrying on, some of them helping, some of them hurting.
As we left, I watched a few moments of the game that was happening on the “big field.” There, two teams of what looked like 16 and 17 year olds were playing a really competitive game at a high skill level. The pitcher was throwing off-speed and breaking pitches. The hitters were taking great swings, and the defenders made some good plays.
I looked at the stands down first base and third. For all the skill and dedication on the field, almost nobody was there to watch them and cheer them on. I counted 3 or 4 parents and a few, straggling younger teens who weren’t even paying attention.
What happens between 6 and 16? Lord help us when we put too much pressure on our little ones and forget our big ones altogether. Lord help those of us who take on this mighty task of parenting and grand-parenting. Lord, we really do need your help.
Luke 18:
"16But Jesus called for them and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs."
God bless all our kids, and God bless the Bill Arp Indians! Let's let 'em be little, and see if we can't try it for ourselves sometime.
Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Don’t forget that this Sunday is Mother’s Day. Bring Mom to church and make her happy! In honor of Mom, we’re doing our best to make you feel guilty!
DaVinci Code Sermon Series concludes this week, Sunday at 8:30 and 10:00 a.m. This week, “Where Did the Bible Come From” takes a look at the historical origins of the Bible. If you ever wondered where the Bible came from before it was bound on the bookstore shelf, come find out this week!
Playground Update: You’ve no doubt seen the playground work that’s taking place on the North side of the church parking lot. We have graded a place for a new, enlarged playground. Our fencing and mulch is going in this week, followed by new playground equipment, hopefully all in place for our “Kid’s Day” on Saturday, May 20.
That weekend, we will unveil the new playground and invite the community for free hot dogs and cokes, and we’ll have inflatable rides on the church grounds for kids to play on. It should be a great day, and we’ll be offering registration for our Preschool and VBS ministries.
Our playground improvement is being funded from our building fund and SOTH is taking on no debt in this project. 100% of the new equipment will go with us should we relocate to a new church site. The playground will add tremendously to the visual appeal of our church, and greatly enhance our commitment to quality ministry through our preschool and children's ministries. Thanks to all of you for the generosity and volunteer labor making this improvement possible.
May 10, 2006
May 3, 2006
Sick
“Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place.” Susan Sontag
This afternoon, I have just had my “good passport” stamped once more. I am very glad to re-enter the “kingdom of the well.”
Last week, the kindergartener in our family missed his first day of school for this year. He’d awoken in the middle of the night, exceedingly ill from one mean little stomach virus.
Like any good family, we share whatever we have.
Three days later, I was home with his little brother who woke up from his nap, crying. He was pitiful, and as I picked him up from his bed, I felt his tight stomach and knew why. A few moments later, I placed a desperate call to his mother, detailing our 2-year-old’s transformation into a tiny Mt. Vesuvius. MAYDAY, MAYDAY!
Monday is my day “off,” and as I worked on backyard projects through the afternoon, I started to notice that I wasn’t feeling so good myself. By bedtime, I knew that my turn to fight the bug had come…and the bug was clearly winning.
Now, some of you out there reading this column have been really sick in your lives. Some of you are fighting serious illness even now. Understand, I don’t mean that you’ve been “stomach flu” sick, I mean “cancer” sick.
I have not. The truth is, that to this point in my life, I have been remarkably healthy, and can really only remember a handful of experiences like the one I had this week. To even talk of my 36-hour trial as “suffering” is to belittle the experiences of real suffering that many of you have had.
Even so, I’ve wondered if spending a whole day in bed yesterday, with no desire to get up and do anything, for any reason, can’t give me some small window in to how fragile and dependent we human beings really are?
And here’s one thing I know for sure: I do not suffer well.
Monday I was doing physical labor, king of my little backyard realm. Tuesday I was flat in bed, complete with fever and fatigue, in need of help and care. I didn’t like the experience one little bit.
I don’t like pain. I don’t like missing work. I don’t like daytime TV. I’m so thankful for a wife who stayed patient and put up with my whining, but I don’t like having to be a drag on the family.
I don’t like being dependent.
Too bad.
“Sickness,” just as surely as “health,” is a part of life. We are physical creatures, and these bodies do break down. For a time, the breakdowns are simply temporary inconveniences, and we believe that we can make assumptions about the good health that will always be ours.
But one day, sooner or later, we all must learn tough lessons about pain, suffering and our fundamental dependence upon God and one another.
As a pastor, I receive a deep and rare privilege as people of faith invite me into their most personal and private places of pain and suffering.
In only my second year of ministry, I watched “Ms. Pauline” die from cancer. She was a woman of great faith and incredible determination. Already sick when I met her, I looked on as she grew more and more dependent on her family and other caregivers.
I was 24 years old, and didn’t have a clue as to what to say to a dying woman, but I’ll never forget the things that she told me. “Adam,” she’d say, “I’m going to be alright. God is taking care of me. I have peace.”
In those days before she died, Ms. Pauline taught me more than the best classes in pastoral care ever could. She taught me that sometimes it’s ok not to know what to say because just being there is enough. She taught me that death isn’t the scariest thing a person of faith can ever face, because it isn’t the end.
She taught me that strength and weakness can’t be measured simply by how frail someone appears on the outside. She taught me that a good life and a good death have one big thing in common --- they both hang entirely on our ability to acknowledge and embrace our dependence, without shame.
Today, I’ve shaken off the illness that clung to me yesterday, and I’m going to be fine. My biggest problems are a little fatigue and a piled-high inbox of e-mail. In a few weeks, I won’t even remember being sick.
Although I know I probably I won’t, I hope I’ll remember the lessons. I hope that each of us, each day, can learn a little more of the key to living that Paul gives us in Romans:
“…let us also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”
However you’re feeling today, and whatever you face, you can rest assured that Ms. Pauline was right:
We’re going to be alright. God is taking care of us.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Don’t forget that our Church family picnic will be at Clinton Farms this Saturday, from 10a.m. – 3 p.m. Bring a side-dish for a picnic lunch and enjoy a fun day together with the SOTH family.
Good to Great study concludes tonight with a look at our final two chapters, “The Flywheel and the Doom Loop,” and “Built to Last.” 6:30 pm at “The Ranch.”
The Da Vinci Code sermon series continues this Sunday at 8:30 and 10:00 a.m. with Part Two: “Who Was Mary Magdalene?”
Baby Noor Update -- Adam, Debbie Stone and Jonl Steinke got to go out and see Baby Noor with her host family this past Friday. She weighed only about 8 pounds upon her arrival (at 3.5 months old). She is now 7.5 months, and weighs over 20 pounds. She was happy and very responsive, laughing and playing during the whole visit. She has undergone surgeries to repair her spina bifida, to improve flexibility in her feet, and received shunts to ensure drainage of fluid away from her brain. She does remain paralyzed below the waist and is not expected to recover movement in her legs. At this time, her return to Iraq is dependent upon how she continues to respond to treatment, and the date has not yet been set. Please continue to keep Baby Noor, her family, and her host family in your prayers.
This afternoon, I have just had my “good passport” stamped once more. I am very glad to re-enter the “kingdom of the well.”
Last week, the kindergartener in our family missed his first day of school for this year. He’d awoken in the middle of the night, exceedingly ill from one mean little stomach virus.
Like any good family, we share whatever we have.
Three days later, I was home with his little brother who woke up from his nap, crying. He was pitiful, and as I picked him up from his bed, I felt his tight stomach and knew why. A few moments later, I placed a desperate call to his mother, detailing our 2-year-old’s transformation into a tiny Mt. Vesuvius. MAYDAY, MAYDAY!
Monday is my day “off,” and as I worked on backyard projects through the afternoon, I started to notice that I wasn’t feeling so good myself. By bedtime, I knew that my turn to fight the bug had come…and the bug was clearly winning.
Now, some of you out there reading this column have been really sick in your lives. Some of you are fighting serious illness even now. Understand, I don’t mean that you’ve been “stomach flu” sick, I mean “cancer” sick.
I have not. The truth is, that to this point in my life, I have been remarkably healthy, and can really only remember a handful of experiences like the one I had this week. To even talk of my 36-hour trial as “suffering” is to belittle the experiences of real suffering that many of you have had.
Even so, I’ve wondered if spending a whole day in bed yesterday, with no desire to get up and do anything, for any reason, can’t give me some small window in to how fragile and dependent we human beings really are?
And here’s one thing I know for sure: I do not suffer well.
Monday I was doing physical labor, king of my little backyard realm. Tuesday I was flat in bed, complete with fever and fatigue, in need of help and care. I didn’t like the experience one little bit.
I don’t like pain. I don’t like missing work. I don’t like daytime TV. I’m so thankful for a wife who stayed patient and put up with my whining, but I don’t like having to be a drag on the family.
I don’t like being dependent.
Too bad.
“Sickness,” just as surely as “health,” is a part of life. We are physical creatures, and these bodies do break down. For a time, the breakdowns are simply temporary inconveniences, and we believe that we can make assumptions about the good health that will always be ours.
But one day, sooner or later, we all must learn tough lessons about pain, suffering and our fundamental dependence upon God and one another.
As a pastor, I receive a deep and rare privilege as people of faith invite me into their most personal and private places of pain and suffering.
In only my second year of ministry, I watched “Ms. Pauline” die from cancer. She was a woman of great faith and incredible determination. Already sick when I met her, I looked on as she grew more and more dependent on her family and other caregivers.
I was 24 years old, and didn’t have a clue as to what to say to a dying woman, but I’ll never forget the things that she told me. “Adam,” she’d say, “I’m going to be alright. God is taking care of me. I have peace.”
In those days before she died, Ms. Pauline taught me more than the best classes in pastoral care ever could. She taught me that sometimes it’s ok not to know what to say because just being there is enough. She taught me that death isn’t the scariest thing a person of faith can ever face, because it isn’t the end.
She taught me that strength and weakness can’t be measured simply by how frail someone appears on the outside. She taught me that a good life and a good death have one big thing in common --- they both hang entirely on our ability to acknowledge and embrace our dependence, without shame.
Today, I’ve shaken off the illness that clung to me yesterday, and I’m going to be fine. My biggest problems are a little fatigue and a piled-high inbox of e-mail. In a few weeks, I won’t even remember being sick.
Although I know I probably I won’t, I hope I’ll remember the lessons. I hope that each of us, each day, can learn a little more of the key to living that Paul gives us in Romans:
“…let us also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”
However you’re feeling today, and whatever you face, you can rest assured that Ms. Pauline was right:
We’re going to be alright. God is taking care of us.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Don’t forget that our Church family picnic will be at Clinton Farms this Saturday, from 10a.m. – 3 p.m. Bring a side-dish for a picnic lunch and enjoy a fun day together with the SOTH family.
Good to Great study concludes tonight with a look at our final two chapters, “The Flywheel and the Doom Loop,” and “Built to Last.” 6:30 pm at “The Ranch.”
The Da Vinci Code sermon series continues this Sunday at 8:30 and 10:00 a.m. with Part Two: “Who Was Mary Magdalene?”
Baby Noor Update -- Adam, Debbie Stone and Jonl Steinke got to go out and see Baby Noor with her host family this past Friday. She weighed only about 8 pounds upon her arrival (at 3.5 months old). She is now 7.5 months, and weighs over 20 pounds. She was happy and very responsive, laughing and playing during the whole visit. She has undergone surgeries to repair her spina bifida, to improve flexibility in her feet, and received shunts to ensure drainage of fluid away from her brain. She does remain paralyzed below the waist and is not expected to recover movement in her legs. At this time, her return to Iraq is dependent upon how she continues to respond to treatment, and the date has not yet been set. Please continue to keep Baby Noor, her family, and her host family in your prayers.
Apr 26, 2006
Cover
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!
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 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
Mar 29, 2006
Perspective
Scott Parrish, Associate Pastor at Greensboro First UMC, and a great friend of mine, just returned from a mission trip to Togo.
Where?
Togo. You know, Togo. As in, “I’d like togo to the game, but I’ve got togo to work instead.”
Sorry about that, couldn’t resist.
Togo is actually a developing, West African nation, but in some very real ways, it might as well be on another planet. Other great friends of ours, Revs. Kirk and Nicole Sims, are placed with The Mission Society in Ghana, another West African nation. While places like Ghana and Togo are on the same Earth as Douglasville, we really do live in very different worlds.
Here’s a part of the description of the trip that Scott shared:
“Togo is not your typical tourist destination. In the mid 1990s figures show more than 60% of Togolese were living below the poverty line and that almost 30% of the population die before age 40. Togo has little industry, is primarily agrarian and roadside/small stand marketplace economy. 65% of the population practices subsistence agriculture. It is a labor intensive culture and a survival sort of society where each day is spent in finding food or making a little money for present needs...
The mission team visited the majority of the 17 lay evangelists (Christian preachers in Northern Togo) and were awestruck by the life on the frontier these evangelists are living as they are in predominantly Muslim and animist locations (voodoo culture with idols, witch doctors, and a traditional religion which influences everything!). It was a powerful reminder of the early days of Methodism as common people responded to the call of God and gave up much to go share the gospel…
The team experienced many astounding visits to lay evangelists who live in very modest one or two room huts or shacks. Some lived in 100% Muslim towns, some in remote villages ruled by a chief, and many in indescribable poverty. They often only had a straw bedroll, a pot and pan, and a Bible in their home. A few lucky ones would also have a bicycle for transportation. At one stop in the town of Sokode the evangelist offered us a prayer and then gave the team peanuts and bananas he had just bought for himself. These men and women of God have little but give much!”
As I sit in my office, writing this blog on my laptop computer, wearing my clean clothes and shiny shoes, sipping a fresh cup of good, smooth coffee, I think about my car parked out front, and the brick home that houses my family just down the road and around the corner.
I think of the clean, well-lit, well-supplied school that my oldest will soon be leaving for the day. He’s been safe there, surrounded by books, computers, and a professional teaching staff.
I am amazed at my ability to grow cynical and ungrateful in the midst of so many blessings.
I am reminded that even though my lunch today came from a cardboard box, frozen solid and cooked in a microwave, I share a big common denominator with the Togolese evangelist whose food was cooked outside over an open fire (if there was a meal to be had at all).
We both believe in Jesus. We both say that we have staked our lives on the reality of the gospel, the power of the message, the truth of the resurrection.
We are both different than we used to be…and moving toward a more perfect knowledge of God’s love in Jesus Christ.
We are both motivated by a simple truth: Jesus Christ, the messiah, the anointed one…is not dead. He is alive. And that changes everything.
I don’t know all the challenges that evangelist faces, living in the bush of West Africa. I can imagine that his obstacles are clear: hunger, health, survival. His faith is not theory, it is a way of life.
Our challenges are real, but I’m thankful for the times that they are put in the right perspective. The odds are good that we will all eat today. There is a roof over our heads. But there is faith-danger all around us.
Life in our world can make us think that God only happens when we check in with him on the occasional Sunday morning. Because we don’t live in close communion with God on a daily, hourly, moment-by-moment kind of basis, the “problems” of our lives can overwhelm us. When things don’t go as we've planned them, our own sense of control is threatened, and we can easily make Mt. Everest out of the proverbial “molehill.”
Our church faces big decisions in the coming months. Some of you reading this blog today must no doubt feel as though the weight of the world is on your very shoulders. For all of us, the odds are good, that if we really looked in a new way, a sneaky truth might emerge. The things that matter...the things that last...are right in front of us, waiting to be enjoyed.
SOTH has incredible opportunities ahead. Nobody knows the answers just yet. We’re crowded, challenged, and sometimes seemingly limited by the realities of space and budget.
What incredible problems to have! We are not heavy-laden, we are blessed with abundance. Sometimes, we just need the right perspective, and a reminder of our purpose. Togolese faith is a good reminder for me today.
May God use his disciples at SOTH to build his kingdom in the world.
He is alive, and that changes everything.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
See you tonight at 6:30, in our worship space for Lesson 2 of our study, Good to Great: First Who, Then What.
Mar 22, 2006
Forward
Bill Clinton was still president, and nobody but her parents had ever heard of Monica Lewinsky.
This internet thing looked like it might just make it, but you were probably still going to use a card catalog if you went to a public library.
People hadn’t even started worrying about the Y2K disaster they eventually would find out they didn’t need to worry about in the first place.
We didn’t know what a “hanging chad” was, and September 11th was beyond our wildest and worst imaginations.
We shouldn’t even mention what gas cost. "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls had just been the #1 song in the country. Not kidding.
And Shepherd of the Hills was officially 6 weeks old.
Where were you 9 years ago today?
I’ll never forget the sound of the massive pipe organ that pumped out the greatest hits of Bach and Handel, filling the sanctuary and setting the mood. Big bass notes rumbled through the wall behind those pipes, jostling my jumpy stomach, counting down the moments until our lives would change forever.
I stood with my dad and a flock of other robed clergy who had been very important in my life. Deep in the holding pen, my best friend told jokes to break the tension. Then, the moment arrived.
Chimes marked the hour, ringing slowly, one on another. The heavy oak doors at the far end of the long center aisle cracked open. And there she was, the most beautiful woman I will ever know.
I hope you can forgive the deeply personal nature of today's entry. I'm being mushy, and can't help it. Generally speaking, I really try to stay away from this kind of subject matter, but the calendar of blog and life have intersected perfectly today.
Anniversaries bring pressure -- to have just right party, or to buy just the right gift. This year, for us, our anniversary is a "Wednesday." Wednesday means a full day of church stuff, school for our oldest, playgroup for our youngest, and more good church stuff tonight. Wednesday means Thursday comes tomorrow and there will be ever more "stuff" to do.
It's so easy for us to get frustrated with our lives, if we can't make each special day and occasion stand out over and above the rest through some artificial means of imposed celebration. There will be time yet for celebration, but most of all this day has made me look back over the amazing course of my seemingly average life and feel a deep gratitude for all the ways that God has taken care of me and those I love.
Special days bring special memories, and those memories should push us to take stock, give thanks, and rest in the peace of God's goodness.
So much has come and gone in the time that we have shared together since that wedding day nine years ago. The mangy little puppy that took up residence in our apartment has grown into a graying family matriarch. The tiny newborns that came home with us from the hospital (I remember thinking, "seriously, you're going to just turn us loose with this baby?") are now rolling and tumbling little boys. They are learning what it means to be brothers, and occasionally, even now, we can see the future when flashes of the young men they will become shine through the wonderful, sticky dirt of their childhoods.
We’ve been through five houses in four places. We’ve made life-long friends from Ripley, Tennessee to Roopville, Georgia, and from Augusta to Douglasville.
Nine years later, we now know firsthand what it means to witness the birth of new life, and how it feels to stand at the graveside of a loved one. In between, there is this mysterious gift from God. We are given life, by the God who loves us. It’s a gift that's got to be lived.
Here’s what I know, and all I can really tell you today. God is good. No matter where you are, or what you’re facing, I believe that you can look back across the chapters of your life, in all of the good, but maybe most especially in the hard and painful places, and you'll always (or eventually) see the hand of God at work.
There are moments that push our faith beyond its reasonable limit. There are days when God’s presence can seem lost, when he seems absent from our perspective.
He is never absent. He loves you, he's your Father, and he is all good, all the time.
Look back and remember. Look forward and believe. I know that we are blessed beyond all measure. And I’m so thankful for that one who chose to share her life and the blessings of the last nine years with me.
The best is yet to come.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Tonight’s study – Don't forget that we begin our detailed study of Good to Great, tonight at 7pm in our worship space. Childcare will be available, but if you read this blog today and want to let us know how many kids you have coming, that would be great. Kathryn@sothumc.net
Don’t forget your milk money! Remember, the "Milk Money" offering to support UM Children's Home, Wesley Woods and The Bishop's Initiative for Actions Ministries continues throughout Lent. Put in a couple of dollars every day to help our congregation meet its $2000 goal.
Welcome New Members! Welcome to David Pearson, to Mike, Ashley, Steven and Trey Bedoski, and to Shane, Tammy, Luke and Erin Meador, all of whom joined SOTH this past Sunday!
RACK Update: Send us your stories! Sandi@sothumc.net
We decided to give the $20 to one of the custodians at my office. We usually give clothes to him that our kids have outgrown. He and his wife have 7 or 8 children -- toddlers to teenagers. He doesn't have transportation to work -- he walks. He works very hard each and every day -- always with a smile and always ready to help in any way he can.
When I handed him the envelope, he wasn't quite sure what it was. He thought maybe a card of some sort. I told him to open it -- he did -- and when he saw the money inside, he didn't say anything. He thanked me and walked off. Later on in the day, I passed him in the hallway. He stopped me and said "I just want to say thank-you for the money -- it's so nice to know that people actually think about you -- and, you always do that -- I really appreciate it".
What a great feeling!
This internet thing looked like it might just make it, but you were probably still going to use a card catalog if you went to a public library.
People hadn’t even started worrying about the Y2K disaster they eventually would find out they didn’t need to worry about in the first place.
We didn’t know what a “hanging chad” was, and September 11th was beyond our wildest and worst imaginations.
We shouldn’t even mention what gas cost. "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls had just been the #1 song in the country. Not kidding.
And Shepherd of the Hills was officially 6 weeks old.
Where were you 9 years ago today?
I’ll never forget the sound of the massive pipe organ that pumped out the greatest hits of Bach and Handel, filling the sanctuary and setting the mood. Big bass notes rumbled through the wall behind those pipes, jostling my jumpy stomach, counting down the moments until our lives would change forever.
I stood with my dad and a flock of other robed clergy who had been very important in my life. Deep in the holding pen, my best friend told jokes to break the tension. Then, the moment arrived.
Chimes marked the hour, ringing slowly, one on another. The heavy oak doors at the far end of the long center aisle cracked open. And there she was, the most beautiful woman I will ever know.
I hope you can forgive the deeply personal nature of today's entry. I'm being mushy, and can't help it. Generally speaking, I really try to stay away from this kind of subject matter, but the calendar of blog and life have intersected perfectly today.
Anniversaries bring pressure -- to have just right party, or to buy just the right gift. This year, for us, our anniversary is a "Wednesday." Wednesday means a full day of church stuff, school for our oldest, playgroup for our youngest, and more good church stuff tonight. Wednesday means Thursday comes tomorrow and there will be ever more "stuff" to do.
It's so easy for us to get frustrated with our lives, if we can't make each special day and occasion stand out over and above the rest through some artificial means of imposed celebration. There will be time yet for celebration, but most of all this day has made me look back over the amazing course of my seemingly average life and feel a deep gratitude for all the ways that God has taken care of me and those I love.
Special days bring special memories, and those memories should push us to take stock, give thanks, and rest in the peace of God's goodness.
So much has come and gone in the time that we have shared together since that wedding day nine years ago. The mangy little puppy that took up residence in our apartment has grown into a graying family matriarch. The tiny newborns that came home with us from the hospital (I remember thinking, "seriously, you're going to just turn us loose with this baby?") are now rolling and tumbling little boys. They are learning what it means to be brothers, and occasionally, even now, we can see the future when flashes of the young men they will become shine through the wonderful, sticky dirt of their childhoods.
We’ve been through five houses in four places. We’ve made life-long friends from Ripley, Tennessee to Roopville, Georgia, and from Augusta to Douglasville.
Nine years later, we now know firsthand what it means to witness the birth of new life, and how it feels to stand at the graveside of a loved one. In between, there is this mysterious gift from God. We are given life, by the God who loves us. It’s a gift that's got to be lived.
Here’s what I know, and all I can really tell you today. God is good. No matter where you are, or what you’re facing, I believe that you can look back across the chapters of your life, in all of the good, but maybe most especially in the hard and painful places, and you'll always (or eventually) see the hand of God at work.
There are moments that push our faith beyond its reasonable limit. There are days when God’s presence can seem lost, when he seems absent from our perspective.
He is never absent. He loves you, he's your Father, and he is all good, all the time.
Look back and remember. Look forward and believe. I know that we are blessed beyond all measure. And I’m so thankful for that one who chose to share her life and the blessings of the last nine years with me.
The best is yet to come.
Grace and Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Tonight’s study – Don't forget that we begin our detailed study of Good to Great, tonight at 7pm in our worship space. Childcare will be available, but if you read this blog today and want to let us know how many kids you have coming, that would be great. Kathryn@sothumc.net
Don’t forget your milk money! Remember, the "Milk Money" offering to support UM Children's Home, Wesley Woods and The Bishop's Initiative for Actions Ministries continues throughout Lent. Put in a couple of dollars every day to help our congregation meet its $2000 goal.
Welcome New Members! Welcome to David Pearson, to Mike, Ashley, Steven and Trey Bedoski, and to Shane, Tammy, Luke and Erin Meador, all of whom joined SOTH this past Sunday!
RACK Update: Send us your stories! Sandi@sothumc.net
We decided to give the $20 to one of the custodians at my office. We usually give clothes to him that our kids have outgrown. He and his wife have 7 or 8 children -- toddlers to teenagers. He doesn't have transportation to work -- he walks. He works very hard each and every day -- always with a smile and always ready to help in any way he can.
When I handed him the envelope, he wasn't quite sure what it was. He thought maybe a card of some sort. I told him to open it -- he did -- and when he saw the money inside, he didn't say anything. He thanked me and walked off. Later on in the day, I passed him in the hallway. He stopped me and said "I just want to say thank-you for the money -- it's so nice to know that people actually think about you -- and, you always do that -- I really appreciate it".
What a great feeling!
Mar 15, 2006
Leader
Over the next 20 years, Kimberly-Clark would out-perform the market by over 4 times, shredding Scott Paper (did you like that?) and even leaving companies like Coca-Cola, Hewlett Packard and 3M in its wake.
Darwin Smith was an unlikely corporate superhero, to say the least. Collins says, “He never cultivated hero status or executive celebrity status. When a journalist asked him to describe his management style, Smith, dressed unfashionably like a farm boy wearing his first suit bought at J.C. Penney, just stared back from the other side of his nerdy-looking black-rimmed glasses. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he said simply: ‘Eccentric.’”
“But,” says Collins, “if you were to think of Darwin Smith as somehow meek or soft, you would be terribly mistaken. His awkward shyness and lack of pretense was coupled with a fierce, even stoic, resolve toward life.”
Darwin Smith reminds me of some long-lost Biblical character, buried way down in the cramped, stale, children’s-Sunday-School stacks of my theological brain.
He has the eccentricity of a prophet, and the backbone of a true leader. I can almost see him, black-rimmed glasses and all, screaming at the top of his lungs across the banks of the
Passionate about the message, caring only about the fulfillment of the mission, it was a Darwin Smith sort of charcter who wore camel’s hair clothing and ate grasshoppers with wild honey.
Darwin Smith and John the Baptist: “Level 5 Leaders,” the both of them. Jim Collins calls those corporate CEO’s who blend “extreme personal humility” with “intense professional will,” “Level 5 Leaders.” They are the kind of people who can move organizations from good to great.
But what could move our lives that direction?
John the Baptist carried intensity of will to the extreme. His only goal was the proclamation of the gospel, no matter what the cost. In comparing himself to the one who was to come after him, the Messiah…Jesus, John simply said, “I’m not worthy to untie his sandals.”
And yet, this “unworthy” one was chosen to baptize Jesus Christ himself. It always seems to be that way…the first being last and the last being first. That’s what Jesus tells us. Better yet, it’s what he always shows us.
Real leadership resides in unlikely places. We expect to find it when the package looks right. Leadership looks confident, composed, blow-dried and “slick,” right?
Our eyes aren’t very good at seeing leaders, but our hearts know them every time.
And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, 4got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 5Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. John 13
“The good-to-great leaders never wanted to become larger-than-life heroes,” Collins says. “They never aspired to be put on a pedestal or become unreachable icons. They were seemingly ordinary people quietly producing extraordinary results.”
What could a church full of Level 5 Disciples bring about?
“So if I, your Lord and Teacher have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. 16Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.” John 13
May our names one day be added to the Level 5 honor roll of humility and will.
Grace & Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Tonight at 7pm, we will discuss the intersection realignment that will impact our church, slated for 2007. If you’d like slides of tonight’s power point show, give us a call in the office and we’ll send you an e-mail or disk.
RACK Update: Send us your stories! sandi@sothumc.net
really in need? I went to the post office this morning and saw an
older gentleman standing around looking like he was contemplating about
something. I was driven to watch and after about 15 minutes of seeing
him pace and bite his nails, I got out of my car and asked if he had
any breakfast this morning. He said no, but he'd like to. I handed
him a RACK envelope and told him to go eat a good meal. As I walked
back to my car, he called after me and said he had not opened the
envelope, but did I say it was for breakfast. I said yes, and he said
Bless you and asked if he could give me a hug. I hugged him and said
God Bless You. And when I left, I felt like I did the right thing.
Mar 9, 2006
Green
So, even though Spring does not arrive officially for a couple more weeks, I can already smell it in the air.
And it’s clogging my sinuses.
But apart from that little problem, there are some wonderful signs of new life that I seek out and long for every March. Life is good when you catch the first gleaming branches of “yellow bells,” and the bright, straining heads of “buttercups” breaking forth from their winter sleep (that’s forsythia and daffodils for you un-country folks out there).
Since our move to Douglasville last summer, my family and I are blessed to have taken up occupancy in a great, new neighborhood close to the church. And, as much as I’m thankful to live there, there is one big drawback.
Apart from the ubiquitous willow oaks in our front yards (every house got one planted by the builder), we live in a mass of humanity where nothing green seems to grow. Such is often the way with new construction.
We all have our patch of front-yard Bermuda grass, clinging as best it can to the hard-pan clay that lies beneath it, and that’s about all there is. And even those little patches are brown right now.
Although it seems for all the world as though nothing is even considering a “bloom” anytime soon in our little piece of earth, I know that the potential is still there. Or, at least, I think it is.
I know that God’s creation has incredible power to grow, produce, flower and multiply. It happens all around us, all the time.
But then I remember the rich, loamy soil of the woods where green life seems to flourish with only God as the gardener. All that good stuff got scraped away when our neighborhood was made fit for human habitation last year. Admittedly, the brick-red modeling clay left behind in our back “yard” does push my faith toward its horticultural limit.
If I have any ability to understand agricultural metaphors of life and growth, the people of Jesus’ time surely possessed an infinitely deeper connection to the world and clearer understanding of life’s ebb and flow.
They understood the principles that cause a tree to grow and produce. They often times had to, if they wanted to eat and survive. On a daily basis, they lived, first-hand, creation’s cycle of life, growth, death and decay that leads to the possibility of new life.
Jesus once told them, ““A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’” (Luke 13:6-9)
Often, as I’ve read that parable throughout the course of my lifetime, I’ve wondered whether God is the landowner with an axe, or the gardener ready to fertilize. Sometimes, it’s depended on the day, or my mood, as to which I’ve believed him to be.
Today, I’m feeling pretty sure he’s the gardener. We live in a world where it’s easy to “throw away.” Our first reaction to disappointment, often, is the elimination of that which has disappointed us. It’s not the norm in our world to take more time…to stick it out…to stay the course…to invest time and energy and faith in what might yet be.
Is it possible that Bible tells us that God is a farmer, spreading manure over the roots of an under-achieving tree?
Maybe so. Isn’t the Bible great?
Sacredspace.ie today reminds us that:
“…there are times of disagreeable growth. We can…feel the pain when our roots are struck by the spade. We feel useless, past our best, no good to anyone, a failure in the most important things we tried, whether marriage, vocation, rearing children, our job and career. Life loses its savor. We cannot pray. We sense that some people think the world would be better off without us.
St Ignatius called this state desolation; and he advised: remember that it will pass. Remain firm and constant in the resolution and decision which guided you before the clouds gathered. Make use of the grace God gives you, and you will be able to withstand your enemies. In consolation, think about how you will conduct yourself in time of desolation. And insist more on prayer (SE 317 ff). Then you come to see – gradually – that this same ground, however stinking, is holy, and we can find God there. He is wielding the spade, spreading the dung.”
March is here. Easter is coming. The same ground that is brown today will be a healthy, deep shade of green…very, very soon. God is with us in this garden, and no matter how unseemly the task, he will give us what we need for growth. Remember.
Grace & Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
We celebrate with the Fountain and Davis families in the baptism of Cierra Fountain and Brina Davis this past Sunday. What a great moment in our worship!
RACK MINISTRY UPDATE: Our Random Acts of Christian Kindness ministry, made possible by a donor from Wesley UMC in Evans, GA got off to a great start this past Sunday. Each family was given an envelop with a RACK card and a $20 bill. The task is simple – have a face-to-face experience of giving and helping someone who is in need. We ask that you share your giving stories with us so that we can publish them in our blog, and in our newsletter. Here’s the first one from this week:
“Our RACK envelope was given to a fellow that we’ve been praying for in our church. He is a co-worker with me, the cutter operator in our plant. He has left his condition in God’s hands to direct the doctors for the cure that he knows will come. When I told him that there are 300 Christians at SOTH praying for him, he started to cry and he said thank you to all the people at SOTH. I told him to thank God for bringing this member into his prayer chain. He also told me that the cancer has reduced in size, and he stated that now he knows why this is happening.”
We look forward to hearing more stories. If you didn’t get a “leaded” envelope, we’ll do our best to have a few more available this weekend. There are “unleaded” envelopes with cards that you can put your own money in if you’d like to give again.
SOFTBALL NEWS: Congrats to our Co-ed softball team, off to a great start under the direction of Kristi Haffner. They defeated Pray’s Mill Baptist Church in their season opener, 14-10. Our Men’s Church League team will begin play on March 23 against West Metro.
BOOK STUDY: Seismic Shifts book study continues tonight, with two more installments, total. 7pm in our worship space.
IMPORTANT MEETINGS: This coming Monday, March 13th, our Douglas County Board of Commissioners will hold a town-hall style meeting at SOTH, 7pm. We are looking forward to hearing about all the great things happening in our community, and to getting more information about the proposed intersection realignment through our church property. We will follow this with a congregational meal and time of discussion, Wednesday night, March 15th.
GOOD TO GREAT: Our next worship series will bring together scripture and the best-selling business book, Good to Great by Jim Collins. We will stay with this book through the Lenten season and culminate on Easter Sunday. All church leaders and members of SOTH will be encouraged to attend an in-depth study of the book on Wednesday nights – 7pm, starting March 22nd. Copies of Good to Great will be on sale this Sunday for $16 each.
MILK MONEY: Our special Lenten offering, "Milk Money" will get underway this week. Look for a special milk bottle for "Grade A Giving," this Sunday during the children's moments. We will ask each household in our church to give $1 or $2 for each day of Lent, and return the bottles on Easter Sunday. We believe that we can raise at least $2000 through this effort, to be divided between various United Methodist ministries, including the UM Children's home in Decatur, Wesley Woods retirement facilities, and the Bishop's Initiative for Action Ministries. Thanks to the good folks at Cannon UMC for the great idea and doing all the legwork on the really cool milk bottles (you'll see this Sunday).
And it’s clogging my sinuses.
But apart from that little problem, there are some wonderful signs of new life that I seek out and long for every March. Life is good when you catch the first gleaming branches of “yellow bells,” and the bright, straining heads of “buttercups” breaking forth from their winter sleep (that’s forsythia and daffodils for you un-country folks out there).
Since our move to Douglasville last summer, my family and I are blessed to have taken up occupancy in a great, new neighborhood close to the church. And, as much as I’m thankful to live there, there is one big drawback.
Apart from the ubiquitous willow oaks in our front yards (every house got one planted by the builder), we live in a mass of humanity where nothing green seems to grow. Such is often the way with new construction.
We all have our patch of front-yard Bermuda grass, clinging as best it can to the hard-pan clay that lies beneath it, and that’s about all there is. And even those little patches are brown right now.
Although it seems for all the world as though nothing is even considering a “bloom” anytime soon in our little piece of earth, I know that the potential is still there. Or, at least, I think it is.
I know that God’s creation has incredible power to grow, produce, flower and multiply. It happens all around us, all the time.
But then I remember the rich, loamy soil of the woods where green life seems to flourish with only God as the gardener. All that good stuff got scraped away when our neighborhood was made fit for human habitation last year. Admittedly, the brick-red modeling clay left behind in our back “yard” does push my faith toward its horticultural limit.
If I have any ability to understand agricultural metaphors of life and growth, the people of Jesus’ time surely possessed an infinitely deeper connection to the world and clearer understanding of life’s ebb and flow.
They understood the principles that cause a tree to grow and produce. They often times had to, if they wanted to eat and survive. On a daily basis, they lived, first-hand, creation’s cycle of life, growth, death and decay that leads to the possibility of new life.
Jesus once told them, ““A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’” (Luke 13:6-9)
Often, as I’ve read that parable throughout the course of my lifetime, I’ve wondered whether God is the landowner with an axe, or the gardener ready to fertilize. Sometimes, it’s depended on the day, or my mood, as to which I’ve believed him to be.
Today, I’m feeling pretty sure he’s the gardener. We live in a world where it’s easy to “throw away.” Our first reaction to disappointment, often, is the elimination of that which has disappointed us. It’s not the norm in our world to take more time…to stick it out…to stay the course…to invest time and energy and faith in what might yet be.
Is it possible that Bible tells us that God is a farmer, spreading manure over the roots of an under-achieving tree?
Maybe so. Isn’t the Bible great?
Sacredspace.ie today reminds us that:
“…there are times of disagreeable growth. We can…feel the pain when our roots are struck by the spade. We feel useless, past our best, no good to anyone, a failure in the most important things we tried, whether marriage, vocation, rearing children, our job and career. Life loses its savor. We cannot pray. We sense that some people think the world would be better off without us.
St Ignatius called this state desolation; and he advised: remember that it will pass. Remain firm and constant in the resolution and decision which guided you before the clouds gathered. Make use of the grace God gives you, and you will be able to withstand your enemies. In consolation, think about how you will conduct yourself in time of desolation. And insist more on prayer (SE 317 ff). Then you come to see – gradually – that this same ground, however stinking, is holy, and we can find God there. He is wielding the spade, spreading the dung.”
March is here. Easter is coming. The same ground that is brown today will be a healthy, deep shade of green…very, very soon. God is with us in this garden, and no matter how unseemly the task, he will give us what we need for growth. Remember.
Grace & Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
We celebrate with the Fountain and Davis families in the baptism of Cierra Fountain and Brina Davis this past Sunday. What a great moment in our worship!
RACK MINISTRY UPDATE: Our Random Acts of Christian Kindness ministry, made possible by a donor from Wesley UMC in Evans, GA got off to a great start this past Sunday. Each family was given an envelop with a RACK card and a $20 bill. The task is simple – have a face-to-face experience of giving and helping someone who is in need. We ask that you share your giving stories with us so that we can publish them in our blog, and in our newsletter. Here’s the first one from this week:
“Our RACK envelope was given to a fellow that we’ve been praying for in our church. He is a co-worker with me, the cutter operator in our plant. He has left his condition in God’s hands to direct the doctors for the cure that he knows will come. When I told him that there are 300 Christians at SOTH praying for him, he started to cry and he said thank you to all the people at SOTH. I told him to thank God for bringing this member into his prayer chain. He also told me that the cancer has reduced in size, and he stated that now he knows why this is happening.”
We look forward to hearing more stories. If you didn’t get a “leaded” envelope, we’ll do our best to have a few more available this weekend. There are “unleaded” envelopes with cards that you can put your own money in if you’d like to give again.
SOFTBALL NEWS: Congrats to our Co-ed softball team, off to a great start under the direction of Kristi Haffner. They defeated Pray’s Mill Baptist Church in their season opener, 14-10. Our Men’s Church League team will begin play on March 23 against West Metro.
BOOK STUDY: Seismic Shifts book study continues tonight, with two more installments, total. 7pm in our worship space.
IMPORTANT MEETINGS: This coming Monday, March 13th, our Douglas County Board of Commissioners will hold a town-hall style meeting at SOTH, 7pm. We are looking forward to hearing about all the great things happening in our community, and to getting more information about the proposed intersection realignment through our church property. We will follow this with a congregational meal and time of discussion, Wednesday night, March 15th.
GOOD TO GREAT: Our next worship series will bring together scripture and the best-selling business book, Good to Great by Jim Collins. We will stay with this book through the Lenten season and culminate on Easter Sunday. All church leaders and members of SOTH will be encouraged to attend an in-depth study of the book on Wednesday nights – 7pm, starting March 22nd. Copies of Good to Great will be on sale this Sunday for $16 each.
MILK MONEY: Our special Lenten offering, "Milk Money" will get underway this week. Look for a special milk bottle for "Grade A Giving," this Sunday during the children's moments. We will ask each household in our church to give $1 or $2 for each day of Lent, and return the bottles on Easter Sunday. We believe that we can raise at least $2000 through this effort, to be divided between various United Methodist ministries, including the UM Children's home in Decatur, Wesley Woods retirement facilities, and the Bishop's Initiative for Action Ministries. Thanks to the good folks at Cannon UMC for the great idea and doing all the legwork on the really cool milk bottles (you'll see this Sunday).
Mar 1, 2006
Ashes
John 12:24-26 (NRSV)
"Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honour."
Every year, I am especially privileged to stand in the pastor’s “spot” on Ash Wednesday.
From where I stand, at the end of the annual Ash Wednesday service, I behold a sight that few other mortals witness on this side of the veil.
I see dead people.
Everywhere. Lots of them.
I’ll never forget that Ash Wednesday nine years ago when I first spread the ashes of penitence and mortality on the foreheads of those who came to “celebrate” this initiation of the Lenten season.
“Repent, and believe the Gospel,” I would tell them as they received the sign of the cross. Or darker, and more attention-getting, “From dust thou art, and to dust thou shall return.”
Ash Wednesday is a big time party, huh? Only Good Friday stands as a more sombering day of awareness on the Christian calendar. Ash Wednesday doesn’t have bunnies, or colorful eggs. There’s not even any of that stringy, green plastic “grass” stuff that goes in the bottom of Easter baskets. There aren’t even any baskets for that matter.
Instead, there is prayer, and scripture, music and ashes. When you get right down to it, there’s death on Ash Wednesday, and that’s a big part of the point. Do you know what’s amazing about all of this? Christians often come out in droves to experience the Ash Wednesday worship experience.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Few of us Protestants will have Ash Wednesday attendance numbers that surpass or even equal our Sunday worship attendance. But our churches will be far from empty.
SOTH is the very kind of church that should theoretically “shun” a service as “dark” as Ash Wednesday. We’re “contemporary,” after all, and most of us have allergic skin reactions to any whiff of the traditional, right?
We’re upbeat – I don’t think there will ever be a time that you could stand in the building at SOTH and not hear laughter coming from somewhere. We are Easter people, resurrection people, through and through. Why would Ash Wednesday draw a crowd?
Because even though we’re Easter people, we’re also mortal people. Because nobody gets out of this alive. Because we need some perspective on this “life” thing that our culture is never going to give us. Because “dead,” isn’t all there is. But mostly because somewhere in our reptile brains, we’re scared it might be.
We don’t live forever. Worse yet, we often fall short of the mark set before us while we’re here. Know what’s even worse than that? Sometimes churches sell (and people willingly buy) the idea that the good folks who comes to church every Sunday are done with all their problems.
That’s not exactly right.
The good people who come to church every Sunday are recovering, growing, being redeemed and transformed by the love of God in Jesus Christ every single day. But even when we know that, it’s still hard for us to be really honest with God and one another about our needs.
Tonight, we get to be honest. We will worship in a way that acknowledges our sin, our need for repentance, and our inability to secure our own eternity. The Gospel tells us that God waits to take care of all of those things, when our hearts are open and willing to receive.
And so…tonight, the ashes. The ashes of our sins that stain us and show our need for redemption. The ashes of mortality that symbolize what this world will one day become. All things are passing away, even our own bodies. The ashes that represent the sacrifice of Christ, and his own entering in to death on our behalf upon the cross. The ashes that point to our need for something greater than ourselves.
That something greater is coming. In fact, it already is. Our Easter celebration 40 days from now will be all the sweeter because we have remembered why we need it and what it means.
Sin and death do give way. Holiness and life are real. Tonight, we remember our need, and hear God’s invitation.
Grace & Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Our Ash Wed. service will happen tonight in the worship space, 7pm.
Softball signup has gone incredibly well, and the response has been overwhelming. SOTH will field two teams this year (the first time?) one Co-ed church team and one Men’s church team. We’re going to have a blast. If you still want to play, both rosters are almost full and will be turned in by the end of this week. Let us know a.s.a.p if you haven’t been able to sign up but would still like to get involved: sandi@sothumc.net
Do you get “The Staff,” our monthly newsletter? It mailed this week, and should be in your homes by today. If you don’t receive it and would like to, please e-mail us at Sandi’s address above and let us know that you’d like to be on our mailing list. The March issue is absolutely covered up in stuff that will be happening in our LIFE AT SOTH. Make sure to check it out or let us know and we’ll get you a copy. Very shortly, you should be able to download the March edition at our website, http://www.sothumc.net/
"Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honour."
Every year, I am especially privileged to stand in the pastor’s “spot” on Ash Wednesday.
From where I stand, at the end of the annual Ash Wednesday service, I behold a sight that few other mortals witness on this side of the veil.
I see dead people.
Everywhere. Lots of them.
I’ll never forget that Ash Wednesday nine years ago when I first spread the ashes of penitence and mortality on the foreheads of those who came to “celebrate” this initiation of the Lenten season.
“Repent, and believe the Gospel,” I would tell them as they received the sign of the cross. Or darker, and more attention-getting, “From dust thou art, and to dust thou shall return.”
Ash Wednesday is a big time party, huh? Only Good Friday stands as a more sombering day of awareness on the Christian calendar. Ash Wednesday doesn’t have bunnies, or colorful eggs. There’s not even any of that stringy, green plastic “grass” stuff that goes in the bottom of Easter baskets. There aren’t even any baskets for that matter.
Instead, there is prayer, and scripture, music and ashes. When you get right down to it, there’s death on Ash Wednesday, and that’s a big part of the point. Do you know what’s amazing about all of this? Christians often come out in droves to experience the Ash Wednesday worship experience.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Few of us Protestants will have Ash Wednesday attendance numbers that surpass or even equal our Sunday worship attendance. But our churches will be far from empty.
SOTH is the very kind of church that should theoretically “shun” a service as “dark” as Ash Wednesday. We’re “contemporary,” after all, and most of us have allergic skin reactions to any whiff of the traditional, right?
We’re upbeat – I don’t think there will ever be a time that you could stand in the building at SOTH and not hear laughter coming from somewhere. We are Easter people, resurrection people, through and through. Why would Ash Wednesday draw a crowd?
Because even though we’re Easter people, we’re also mortal people. Because nobody gets out of this alive. Because we need some perspective on this “life” thing that our culture is never going to give us. Because “dead,” isn’t all there is. But mostly because somewhere in our reptile brains, we’re scared it might be.
We don’t live forever. Worse yet, we often fall short of the mark set before us while we’re here. Know what’s even worse than that? Sometimes churches sell (and people willingly buy) the idea that the good folks who comes to church every Sunday are done with all their problems.
That’s not exactly right.
The good people who come to church every Sunday are recovering, growing, being redeemed and transformed by the love of God in Jesus Christ every single day. But even when we know that, it’s still hard for us to be really honest with God and one another about our needs.
Tonight, we get to be honest. We will worship in a way that acknowledges our sin, our need for repentance, and our inability to secure our own eternity. The Gospel tells us that God waits to take care of all of those things, when our hearts are open and willing to receive.
And so…tonight, the ashes. The ashes of our sins that stain us and show our need for redemption. The ashes of mortality that symbolize what this world will one day become. All things are passing away, even our own bodies. The ashes that represent the sacrifice of Christ, and his own entering in to death on our behalf upon the cross. The ashes that point to our need for something greater than ourselves.
That something greater is coming. In fact, it already is. Our Easter celebration 40 days from now will be all the sweeter because we have remembered why we need it and what it means.
Sin and death do give way. Holiness and life are real. Tonight, we remember our need, and hear God’s invitation.
Grace & Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Our Ash Wed. service will happen tonight in the worship space, 7pm.
Softball signup has gone incredibly well, and the response has been overwhelming. SOTH will field two teams this year (the first time?) one Co-ed church team and one Men’s church team. We’re going to have a blast. If you still want to play, both rosters are almost full and will be turned in by the end of this week. Let us know a.s.a.p if you haven’t been able to sign up but would still like to get involved: sandi@sothumc.net
Do you get “The Staff,” our monthly newsletter? It mailed this week, and should be in your homes by today. If you don’t receive it and would like to, please e-mail us at Sandi’s address above and let us know that you’d like to be on our mailing list. The March issue is absolutely covered up in stuff that will be happening in our LIFE AT SOTH. Make sure to check it out or let us know and we’ll get you a copy. Very shortly, you should be able to download the March edition at our website, http://www.sothumc.net/
Feb 22, 2006
Sacred
“With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”
With these words, the President concluded his speech on that Saturday morning long ago. He was being sworn into office for the second time, having won a landslide election because the course of the war had turned in his country’s favor.
As the day’s ceremonies came to a close, he exited the platform and entered the inaugural reception feeling confident about the words he had delivered. But, one man’s opinion mattered to him most of all.
He had seen his friend in the gallery, listening intently to his words as they escaped into the pages of history.
…What would Fred think?
“Fred” was having some trouble making his way through security. As an invited guest of the President, he attempted to enter the reception, only to be stopped and held in custody on two different occasions.
No person of color had ever attended a presidential affair, much less at the personal invitation of the President himself. “Tell Mr. Lincoln that Fred Douglass is at the door,” he yelled to a guest.
Within a few moments, he found himself face-to-face with “Honest Abe.”
“Douglass…” said the President, “there’s no man’s opinion I value more than yours, what do you think of it?”
With many well-wishers crowding in, and many more waiting for their moment with Abraham Lincoln, Frederick Douglas felt the need to give a quick word that would somehow communicate the depth of his feeling for the speech The President had given.
“Mr. Lincoln,” he said, “It was a sacred effort.”
Fast-forward almost 141 years to find this pastor on the couch, comfy, basking in the glory of some much-needed President’s Day time off. I was watching as the true story you just heard unfolded before me, trickling down through the decades via television documentary.
I really hadn’t thought much about our Presidents this past Monday. I’d taken care of errands that had been put off. I’d tried to catch up on the tv shows that have been sitting on our DVR since before Christmas. I’d been generally, wonderfully, worthless for the day.
Then, I was caught flat-footed by this amazing encounter from our history. Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln, one on one. Two of our greatest Americans, catching a quick word at a cocktail party. Two of our greatest orators and statesmen, one elbowing the other to say, “Well, did I do ok?” It’s an amazing moment to glimpse, but even more amazing was Douglass’ response.
"It was a sacred effort."
I don’t think there’s a much higher compliment any of us could ever hope for.
If something is sacred, it carries an element of the holy. It is set apart for a particular purpose, somehow giving reverence and honor to God himself.
"It was a sacred effort." If our epitaphs are one day bound up by that simple statement, how blessed we would truly be.
But what are the odds that any of us will ever give a first, much less second, inaugural address?
Not real good.
What are the odds that we will ever issue an “emancipation proclamation” or preserve the Union, or write great works of civil rights, or change the very fabric of our nation?
What does it take for something to be sacred?
Well, it doesn’t take greatness. It takes intention. It takes purpose. It takes faith.
Getting up and going to work tomorrow can be a sacred effort. Changing those diapers and making those bottles can be a sacred effort. Acts of patience and kindness for your aging parents are sacred efforts. Having that conversation, smiling at that child, boosting someone’s confidence, helping someone even just a little, all of it, is nothing less than sacred.
I am thankful for the great people who have gone before us. I am grateful for those who have led us in great and powerful ways, and for those who have become highly acclaimed and widely renowned for all that they have done.
But I’m also thankful for my childhood Sunday School teachers. I’m thankful for all the folks who were my coaches through my childhood, for my mentors, my family members, and for those who have shaped who I have been and am becoming.
I’m thankful for the folks who do their jobs, whatever they might be, with dedication and responsibility, even though no one will know their name or thank them for what they have given. I’m thankful for the infinite and sacred acts of life that are committed all around us, every single day.
“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.”
Tomorrow, let’s tell jokes. Let’s cry if we need to. Let’s help each other. Let’s pray. Let’s work. Let’s rest, and eat, and sleep and love and live the life that God calls us to, whatever it might be.
Whatever it is, we will do it for God, and so...it will be a sacred effort.
Grace + Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Ready to pull some hamstrings and tear some rotator cuffs? That’s right, it’s softball season again!! We need all interested softball players to e-mail us at : sandi@sothumc.net a.s.a.p. so that we can begin putting together our roster and get registered in our local league. Depending on who is interested, we will be forming a men’s or co-ed team. All men and women are encouraged to play, with games beginning March 6th. Look for more info via SOTH e-mail tomorrow.
With these words, the President concluded his speech on that Saturday morning long ago. He was being sworn into office for the second time, having won a landslide election because the course of the war had turned in his country’s favor.
As the day’s ceremonies came to a close, he exited the platform and entered the inaugural reception feeling confident about the words he had delivered. But, one man’s opinion mattered to him most of all.
He had seen his friend in the gallery, listening intently to his words as they escaped into the pages of history.
…What would Fred think?
“Fred” was having some trouble making his way through security. As an invited guest of the President, he attempted to enter the reception, only to be stopped and held in custody on two different occasions.
No person of color had ever attended a presidential affair, much less at the personal invitation of the President himself. “Tell Mr. Lincoln that Fred Douglass is at the door,” he yelled to a guest.
Within a few moments, he found himself face-to-face with “Honest Abe.”
“Douglass…” said the President, “there’s no man’s opinion I value more than yours, what do you think of it?”
With many well-wishers crowding in, and many more waiting for their moment with Abraham Lincoln, Frederick Douglas felt the need to give a quick word that would somehow communicate the depth of his feeling for the speech The President had given.
“Mr. Lincoln,” he said, “It was a sacred effort.”
Fast-forward almost 141 years to find this pastor on the couch, comfy, basking in the glory of some much-needed President’s Day time off. I was watching as the true story you just heard unfolded before me, trickling down through the decades via television documentary.
I really hadn’t thought much about our Presidents this past Monday. I’d taken care of errands that had been put off. I’d tried to catch up on the tv shows that have been sitting on our DVR since before Christmas. I’d been generally, wonderfully, worthless for the day.
Then, I was caught flat-footed by this amazing encounter from our history. Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln, one on one. Two of our greatest Americans, catching a quick word at a cocktail party. Two of our greatest orators and statesmen, one elbowing the other to say, “Well, did I do ok?” It’s an amazing moment to glimpse, but even more amazing was Douglass’ response.
"It was a sacred effort."
I don’t think there’s a much higher compliment any of us could ever hope for.
If something is sacred, it carries an element of the holy. It is set apart for a particular purpose, somehow giving reverence and honor to God himself.
"It was a sacred effort." If our epitaphs are one day bound up by that simple statement, how blessed we would truly be.
But what are the odds that any of us will ever give a first, much less second, inaugural address?
Not real good.
What are the odds that we will ever issue an “emancipation proclamation” or preserve the Union, or write great works of civil rights, or change the very fabric of our nation?
What does it take for something to be sacred?
Well, it doesn’t take greatness. It takes intention. It takes purpose. It takes faith.
Getting up and going to work tomorrow can be a sacred effort. Changing those diapers and making those bottles can be a sacred effort. Acts of patience and kindness for your aging parents are sacred efforts. Having that conversation, smiling at that child, boosting someone’s confidence, helping someone even just a little, all of it, is nothing less than sacred.
I am thankful for the great people who have gone before us. I am grateful for those who have led us in great and powerful ways, and for those who have become highly acclaimed and widely renowned for all that they have done.
But I’m also thankful for my childhood Sunday School teachers. I’m thankful for all the folks who were my coaches through my childhood, for my mentors, my family members, and for those who have shaped who I have been and am becoming.
I’m thankful for the folks who do their jobs, whatever they might be, with dedication and responsibility, even though no one will know their name or thank them for what they have given. I’m thankful for the infinite and sacred acts of life that are committed all around us, every single day.
“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.”
Tomorrow, let’s tell jokes. Let’s cry if we need to. Let’s help each other. Let’s pray. Let’s work. Let’s rest, and eat, and sleep and love and live the life that God calls us to, whatever it might be.
Whatever it is, we will do it for God, and so...it will be a sacred effort.
Grace + Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Ready to pull some hamstrings and tear some rotator cuffs? That’s right, it’s softball season again!! We need all interested softball players to e-mail us at : sandi@sothumc.net a.s.a.p. so that we can begin putting together our roster and get registered in our local league. Depending on who is interested, we will be forming a men’s or co-ed team. All men and women are encouraged to play, with games beginning March 6th. Look for more info via SOTH e-mail tomorrow.
Feb 15, 2006
Big
Remember Tom Hanks growing up over night in the 80's movie, "Big?"
It was an awkward adjustment, to say the least. It's not easy to grow up overnight.
The same is true for churches. Rapid growth can make our heads spin, and leave us asking lots of questions, like, "hey, how big is too big, anyway?"
It was an awkward adjustment, to say the least. It's not easy to grow up overnight.
The same is true for churches. Rapid growth can make our heads spin, and leave us asking lots of questions, like, "hey, how big is too big, anyway?"
Good question. So, how big is too big…when it comes to churches?
In my years as a pastor (all the way back to 1997), I’ve from time-to-time seen good Christians furrow their brow with a worried expression and say, with total sincerity of heart, “I sure hope our church doesn’t get too big.”
I always wonder what that means.
I think it means, “I don’t want to feel like I don’t have a place here.” Or, “I don’t want to feel like nobody knows my name,” or, “I want to know everybody else’s name.” Or maybe it means, “I don’t want us to lose the stuff that makes us who we are.” Or, maybe it’s just an honest and legitimate way of saying, “change…and the unknown…scare me.”
Me too. Change, growth, the unknown…that’s scary stuff.
And besides, we all know how those “big churches” are. They’re cold. They’re shallow. They just treat people like numbers, and don’t help them make deep, life-changing connections. Right?
Mmm, maybe not. A new study, written about in today’s AJC says different. In reality, the “big churches” that surround us probably got big because somebody had a big vision for ministry, and a bunch of somebody’s got together and followed God’s call on their life to make it happen.
Churches grow because a community realizes that life changing things are happening in that place. Now, who are we to decide how many lives God might change through the things that happen in our church?
Usually, the “could we be getting too big?” question comes shortly after the first time that a long-time member walks into worship on a Sunday morning, only to have someone welcome them and ask if it’s their first time at the church.
No doubt, that’s a distasteful experience, even for the most mission and ministry-minded among us. It’s disconcerting to think that someone at your own church might not know that it’s “yours.”
Well, that’s the ironic thing about a church.
It’s not yours. Nor is it mine. It belongs to this guy named…Jesus.
The ironic thing about Jesus’ church is that when it’s fulfilling its mission the best, it can sometimes leave us the most uncertain and intimidated. We are called to “go into all the world and make disciples,” and there are just so many disciples to be made out there that we can’t possibly learn all their names.
They won’t all fit in our own small group. They’re gonna want different things than we want. They’re gonna use our stuff. They’re gonna make a mess. They’re gonna cost money. They’re gonna change the “family” dynamic.
What if “those people” take over?!
Why can’t things just stay the way they are, right?
Deep down, you know why.
There is no, “staying the same.” There is growth, and there is decline, but there is no “neutral.” It just simply doesn’t exist.
Now that’s a challenge, because I really like life just the way it is. Things are good, so why do I need to go wondering if God might have an “even better” out there around the corner?
That’s the question we all need to ask…and I believe that God will help us find the answer. If you love your church, or anything that’s good in your life, you’ve got to share it. It’s got to grow…or it will one day go away.
That’s God’s plan for the world that he’s made. And it’s a good one. May we grow together, one step at a time, one day at a time, in the way and love of Jesus Christ.
Grace & Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Thanks to everyone from the Congregational Nurture team for a wonderful Valentine’s Day dinner last night at the church, and to our youth for the wonderful service they provided. It was a great time for everybody.
Don’t forget “Seismic Shifts,” where we’ll be studying chapters 4, 5 and 6 this Thursday night at 7pm at the church.
Also, Sunday evening at 4:00, “The Barbarian Way,” a truly wonderful book, hosted by Tim and Ellie Potate at their home.
Worship this Sunday at 8:30 and 10:00; “Turn it Over: Talents.” Our fifth installment in the series will look at all the ways we can share the gifts and abilities that God has given us.
Feb 8, 2006
Leviathan
“Stop.” The direct and serious tone of my traveling companion’s request halted my steps mid-motion. She stood staring intently at the ground before us, with laser beam focus on something that I obviously could not see. She knelt, pulling back the scattered, decomposing leaves that cover the floor of the woods surrounding our church. Scooping back last year’s pine straw, a smile began to gather as the quarry she’d spotted came slowly into view.
I watched as the shiny, silver metal of her shovel head moved beneath a tiny, fragile stalk. Six little seed heads encircled that stalk, conveying in their own way a beauty as great as that of the flowers they pointed backward toward through time.
“Adder’s Tongue Orchid!” she exclaimed with an eager, but professional excitement. To me this seemed quite the name for the dried-up shell of a plant that cowered below us. It wouldn’t even have made a satisfying crunch beneath my boot. Our other companions followed quickly, eager to see this newly-found woodland resident.
“This we should rescue,” she said, and in a moment she’d expertly removed the composted earth that surrounded the plant's hidden roots. Depositing the heavy clay hunk in a plastic grocery sack, she handed me the gift of earth and said, “plant it somewhere shady, it should bloom this summer.”
My new friends and I spent the balance of the morning combing the backside of SOTH’s property, climbing into the creek, scaling steep ridges and getting caught up in sharp greenbrier. They taught me how beautiful a sourwood can be when it’s transplanted in the right way, at the right time, in the right place. We talked about the delights of muscadine propagation and wonder of wild azaleas. I even saw some lichen harvested from an old rotten log to be used in the garden. Its deep blue-green mass, accented by delicate, flame-red highlights have earned it the name “British Soldiers.”
These representatives of the Georgia Native Plant Society had come to SOTH to spend a morning looking at the property that will be cleared this year, making way for the movement of Dorsett Shoals road that will result in a straightened, hopefully safer, intersection.
Their group is dedicated to the appreciation of our area’s native plant life, and they are particularly interested in “rescuing” plants that will soon fight a losing battle with a bulldozer blade. They will return, and when they do, we’ll be invited. As Spring arrives, the woods will come back to life and these good folks can help us move some of that life to our own backyards.
Their gift for spotting life in the midst of winter’s brown death and decay struck me as nothing short of amazing. Where I saw only naked trees (which all look the same without leaves, by the way) they saw a whole wilderness of wonderful life. Did you know that we worship every Sunday in the midst of ebony spleenwort, Christmas fern, cinnamon fern, grape fern, resurrection fern, running ground cedar, low bush blueberries, southern magnolia, wild ginger and blue eye grass? And that’s just the beginning.
I will never forget hearing one of my favorite seminary teachers, Roberta Bondi, talk about her experience of catching a rainbow trout for the very first time. She says that she was overwhelmed at the colors and engineering of the marvel that she pulled from the stream. But ultimately, it was not the fish’s beauty that gave her pause, so much as the realization of how that beauty had been hidden from human view. “God has made a rainbow trout to be incredibly beautiful,” she said, “and he didn’t do that for us. It lives its whole life away from human eyes, giving glory to God by doing what it was made to do in its own, beautiful way.”
Sometimes, we really need those moments of perspective. Every time I get to sit in the woods and find a few moments to be a part of the creation that God has made, I always find myself thinking, “wow, life is just happening out here, just like this, all the time.”
Creeks still flow, birds still fly, bugs still crawl, fish still swim, plants still grow, even when we’re not there to be their audience. God is still God, whether we’re checked in or checked out of his presence.
Wouldn’t it be great if we could check in more often? I don’t just mean by sitting with the trees, although that’s not a bad idea. What I mean is, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could walk through an entire day of life with the focus that comes from truly knowing why we’re here.
We’ve got way more in common with that rainbow trout than we might like to think. We’re here because God delights in us. We’re here to give God glory.
…And that’s it. Really.
Do you think we human beings have it all figured out? I read a wonderful story today from the New York times about a scientific expedition that just unearthed all manner of previously undiscovered species in New Guinea. Those animals gave glory to God even before we decided what their latin names should be. Which is more marvelous – that we found them, or that we share the same Creator, the same Author of It All who delights in both people…and frogs.
Q: “Who has cut a channel for the torrents of rain, and a way for the thunderbolt, to bring rain on a land where no one lives, on the desert, which is empty of human life, to satisfy the waste and desolate land, and to make the ground put forth grass?” (Job 38:25-27)
A: God.
And if God loves the frogs, and the ferns…if God makes rain in the desert for no more reason than his deep-seated love of green grass… “will he not much more clothe you, -- you of little faith?” (Matthew 6:30).
God... We are so thankful for the tiny, dry orchids of winter, and for the promise of Spring, and the flowers that are most surely still to come.
Grace & Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Many of you will be curious about the proposed intersection development referenced in this week's blog, and please feel free to contact us in the office if you'd like to talk about it. Also, feel free to contact the folks at the Douglas County D.O.T. who can probably give you more information. For now, we are waiting for contact from the county to begin the process of discussion as they move toward beginning work on the project. Hopefully you got to follow the link to the drawing as it's posted on the county website. As more information becomes available, it will be passed right on to the congregation.
Also, the folks from the Georgia Native Plant Society will be out this spring to do "plant rescue" operations, and we're looking forward to setting those dates very soon. Look for announcements of dates in the next few weeks -- we'll make sure to keep everyone informed.
Don't forget this week's book study on Thursday night, Seismic Shifts. It looks like we'll have lots of folks out for the first time this week, so we'll work on chapters 1-3 rather than 4-6, adding a week to the length of our study, but giving everybody a chance to catch up.
Remember the puppet ministry that was highlighted two weeks ago in worship? If you have an interest in learning to be a puppeteer for our Sunday School program, contact Beverly Stone at pleasd2bme@yahoo.com . Youth age 6th grade or higher to adults are invited to volunteer.
I watched as the shiny, silver metal of her shovel head moved beneath a tiny, fragile stalk. Six little seed heads encircled that stalk, conveying in their own way a beauty as great as that of the flowers they pointed backward toward through time.
“Adder’s Tongue Orchid!” she exclaimed with an eager, but professional excitement. To me this seemed quite the name for the dried-up shell of a plant that cowered below us. It wouldn’t even have made a satisfying crunch beneath my boot. Our other companions followed quickly, eager to see this newly-found woodland resident.
“This we should rescue,” she said, and in a moment she’d expertly removed the composted earth that surrounded the plant's hidden roots. Depositing the heavy clay hunk in a plastic grocery sack, she handed me the gift of earth and said, “plant it somewhere shady, it should bloom this summer.”
My new friends and I spent the balance of the morning combing the backside of SOTH’s property, climbing into the creek, scaling steep ridges and getting caught up in sharp greenbrier. They taught me how beautiful a sourwood can be when it’s transplanted in the right way, at the right time, in the right place. We talked about the delights of muscadine propagation and wonder of wild azaleas. I even saw some lichen harvested from an old rotten log to be used in the garden. Its deep blue-green mass, accented by delicate, flame-red highlights have earned it the name “British Soldiers.”
These representatives of the Georgia Native Plant Society had come to SOTH to spend a morning looking at the property that will be cleared this year, making way for the movement of Dorsett Shoals road that will result in a straightened, hopefully safer, intersection.
Their group is dedicated to the appreciation of our area’s native plant life, and they are particularly interested in “rescuing” plants that will soon fight a losing battle with a bulldozer blade. They will return, and when they do, we’ll be invited. As Spring arrives, the woods will come back to life and these good folks can help us move some of that life to our own backyards.
Their gift for spotting life in the midst of winter’s brown death and decay struck me as nothing short of amazing. Where I saw only naked trees (which all look the same without leaves, by the way) they saw a whole wilderness of wonderful life. Did you know that we worship every Sunday in the midst of ebony spleenwort, Christmas fern, cinnamon fern, grape fern, resurrection fern, running ground cedar, low bush blueberries, southern magnolia, wild ginger and blue eye grass? And that’s just the beginning.
I will never forget hearing one of my favorite seminary teachers, Roberta Bondi, talk about her experience of catching a rainbow trout for the very first time. She says that she was overwhelmed at the colors and engineering of the marvel that she pulled from the stream. But ultimately, it was not the fish’s beauty that gave her pause, so much as the realization of how that beauty had been hidden from human view. “God has made a rainbow trout to be incredibly beautiful,” she said, “and he didn’t do that for us. It lives its whole life away from human eyes, giving glory to God by doing what it was made to do in its own, beautiful way.”
Sometimes, we really need those moments of perspective. Every time I get to sit in the woods and find a few moments to be a part of the creation that God has made, I always find myself thinking, “wow, life is just happening out here, just like this, all the time.”
Creeks still flow, birds still fly, bugs still crawl, fish still swim, plants still grow, even when we’re not there to be their audience. God is still God, whether we’re checked in or checked out of his presence.
Wouldn’t it be great if we could check in more often? I don’t just mean by sitting with the trees, although that’s not a bad idea. What I mean is, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could walk through an entire day of life with the focus that comes from truly knowing why we’re here.
We’ve got way more in common with that rainbow trout than we might like to think. We’re here because God delights in us. We’re here to give God glory.
…And that’s it. Really.
Do you think we human beings have it all figured out? I read a wonderful story today from the New York times about a scientific expedition that just unearthed all manner of previously undiscovered species in New Guinea. Those animals gave glory to God even before we decided what their latin names should be. Which is more marvelous – that we found them, or that we share the same Creator, the same Author of It All who delights in both people…and frogs.
Q: “Who has cut a channel for the torrents of rain, and a way for the thunderbolt, to bring rain on a land where no one lives, on the desert, which is empty of human life, to satisfy the waste and desolate land, and to make the ground put forth grass?” (Job 38:25-27)
A: God.
And if God loves the frogs, and the ferns…if God makes rain in the desert for no more reason than his deep-seated love of green grass… “will he not much more clothe you, -- you of little faith?” (Matthew 6:30).
God... We are so thankful for the tiny, dry orchids of winter, and for the promise of Spring, and the flowers that are most surely still to come.
Grace & Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
Many of you will be curious about the proposed intersection development referenced in this week's blog, and please feel free to contact us in the office if you'd like to talk about it. Also, feel free to contact the folks at the Douglas County D.O.T. who can probably give you more information. For now, we are waiting for contact from the county to begin the process of discussion as they move toward beginning work on the project. Hopefully you got to follow the link to the drawing as it's posted on the county website. As more information becomes available, it will be passed right on to the congregation.
Also, the folks from the Georgia Native Plant Society will be out this spring to do "plant rescue" operations, and we're looking forward to setting those dates very soon. Look for announcements of dates in the next few weeks -- we'll make sure to keep everyone informed.
Don't forget this week's book study on Thursday night, Seismic Shifts. It looks like we'll have lots of folks out for the first time this week, so we'll work on chapters 1-3 rather than 4-6, adding a week to the length of our study, but giving everybody a chance to catch up.
Remember the puppet ministry that was highlighted two weeks ago in worship? If you have an interest in learning to be a puppeteer for our Sunday School program, contact Beverly Stone at pleasd2bme@yahoo.com . Youth age 6th grade or higher to adults are invited to volunteer.
Feb 1, 2006
Phil
Nope, not Dr. Phil: "Punxsatawney Phil."
You know, the groundhog. Groundhog…Day.
Groundhog Day is tomorrow, and of course it’s one of the truly great holidays on our calendar.
Will he or won’t he, that is the question. Tradition has it that lots of forces in our natural world depends on whether that groundhog sees his shadow. Either we’re on the way to an early spring or doomed to six more weeks of repetitious, winter skies.
This morning has been a beautiful one. Here in Douglasville, there hasn't been a cloud in the sky and it’ll be warming up into the 60’s by this afternoon. But don’t count your buttercups just yet. Winter will be back --- and we’ll have to make another push or two before it’s time for swimming pools and baseball games.
But even knowing full-well that wintertime can’t really be over in early February no matter what ol’ Phil does, the press will gather and the world will watch that fat, furry rodent come out of its hole and scamper about with hot breath fogging up the frozen
“Phil Connors” was tired of being part of that crowd. That’s the name of the weatherman Bill Murray played in the 1993 movie named after the famous holiday. "Groundhog Day" is a great movie because it mimics so much of our everyday life experience.
You see, after Connors does his Groundhog Day weather gig, covering the groundhog for the fourth year in a row, he wakes up on February 3rd only to realize that it’s really February 2nd all over again. Morning after morning, day after day, week after week, he wakes up to repeat the same day.
The concept is a fascinating one, and Connors tries all the ways you might ever imagine, and many that you wouldn’t, to break the cycle of repetition and escape back into the routine of his “normal” life.
In the end, we learn a really great
Sometimes our lives have Groundhog-ish moments. This morning I woke up at the same time that I do every other day. I ground the beans for my 12,578th pot of coffee. I left home at the same time for my son’s same school. As he opened the door of the car to head into his class I said, “time to do it again, right?” “Yep,” he replied. We exchanged “love you dudes” and he was gone.
So what makes this day different than any other one?
Everything.
Today won’t be like any other day that I’ve ever had. There will be countless decisions, conversations, subtleties and nuances that will shape reactions, possibilities, and in turn, tomorrow’s opportunities.
The power of the compounded interest of all the gathered days of our lives is pretty awesome.
Kind of makes you want to start the whole thing with a prayer, doesn’t it? That’s a great idea --- and you can punctuate this day’s events in that same way, all the way through.
Now that the holidays are over, I can really say that I love being back in the routine of getting up, showing up, and going back home. But I can also say that the routine might make us miss the wonder, and the power of the seemingly mundane.
So, look for that big ol’ bucktoothed furball on tv tomorrow morning. Enjoy the spectacle and the silliness of his top-hat, black-tie-and-tails wearing entourage. Then have another cup of coffee, say a little prayer of thanksgiving, ask for wisdom and strength, and head out the door into the wonderful monotony of life, complete with all its twists and turns.
God is already there.
Grace + Peace,
Adam
LIFE AT SOTH:
We’re working hard to maximize the space that we have in our worship facility at each service, and you can trust that we’ll do everything we can to work out the best possible solutions to these wonderful problems. Our “Turn It Over” direct mail piece should begin hitting neighborhoods today and tomorrow, just slightly behind schedule, but in plenty of time to help folks catch a vision of what God might do in their lives during this new year.
SEISMIC SHIFTS BOOK STUDY:
Don’t forget that tomorrow night begins our new book study, Seismic Shifts. We’ll gather at 7pm in our worship space to take a look at little changes that can add up to a dramatically different life in Christ. The study is for six weeks, and if you miss the first one, come on in for the next! 7 pm, Thursday nights --- if you need to order a book, e-mail us: sandi@sothumc.net , and we’ll make sure that you have a copy. If you’ve already paid the $10 for your book, they’re available on the table in our worship entry space. Already, almost 30 adults are signed up!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)