Funny Sweet Good Deep

Two very different boys. At the bookstore, John gets a dictionary, and now we sit down together and learn how to use it to look up words. I mean, this is what we have spent time doing this weekend.

Joseph chose a “Smart Lab” voice changer. So we sat down, put the wires together, went to the store to get a battery, and came back and made scary voices and alien voices. And Joe learned you can burp through it. Luckily, he did not take John’s suggestion about what to do next.

I noticed that on my prayer bench is a toy. Joe put it there for me. Makes sense—you have fun in prayer.

We had 110 tonight, so Bill was right—end of the month, cold day (freezing rain). Came down for grilled cheese and chicken noodle. Preached Wesley’s sermon, “Salvation By Faith.” Like I said before—preaching to the unchurched, to people burnt out on religion, or who have not been to church in forever—Wesley’s sermons are it. Just freshen it up and you’re in. Two came forward at the altar call. One guy still seeking Jesus, another young woman responding in faith for the first time.

They are definitely singing a lot more, with more enthusiasm. Barb does a good job playing loud early. Then they get the tune and she softens up and they can hear themselves.

Sunday School. We started Sunday School at the Rock. We hadn’t had much and we knew we needed a place for discipleship and small groups. We have over 50 in 7 classes, and we expect to need more classes. Wow, to think we thought we’d be happy with 3 classes and 10 in each class. Dream big. Better yet, let God send you what He wants.

In Sunday School this past weekend, we were studying the tabernacle. Rosanna said that if the tabernacle, all of the time and money they put into it, if it was meant to reconcile humans to God, shouldn’t our tabernacle be about that same task? We all just had to sit there and soak that in.

Thursday Dinner

Well, it was a great night. We had all been feeling like we needed to read the Scriptures again, a whole book. So 19 of us sat down to read/listen to the Gospel Of John.

Melissa made a great dinner-- potato soup and some hearty bread.

We read. Leo started us off.

Some memories: Samantha read quite a bit.

Leo held a balloon while he read, so Katelyn would have something to play with when she came up to him.

MatthewHighfill, Charley Reed and Keith Reed teamed up to read John 21. We sometimes think youth don't care, aren't paying attention. On the way back to his house, Matthew told me:
"It's amazing how Jesus appeared to his disciples, and how He still does it today." Robert and Matthew want us to do it once a month, and it strikes me that if we do, we will read each Gospel three times. Something in our lives would change.

Somewhere around John 9, we served soup and bread. We ate together while we continued to be bathed in the Word.

After we finished, we had communion, served by Keith and Charley.

Then we sat around for a while, loving each other.

Leo stays the night Thursdays. It strikes me how good it would be on so many levels if a bunch of us lived together. The trick is constant spiritual formation and common work; the very things that, in a variety of forms, make a family. The very things that so many who clamor for community ignore. It's a nice thing to talk about-- harder to pray as much as necessary, harder to welcome the difficult people, harder even to put your back into work.

Leo and Sara want us to make a retreat where we go for 6 days and read Scripture 12 hours each day. You'll read the whole Bible that way. Could we rest on the 7th day?

A Holy Room

When the weather turns cold, it seems like two things are happening, becoming traditions. Maybe they'll survive the warmth in spring and summer this time around...

One, it feels nice to come into the church out of the cold. If memory serves me correctly, this illustration converted the first Anglo-Saxon king to become a Christian.

Second, the real warmth comes when you come in, cold fingers, and see Leo. Actually, you smell that Leo is here because of the coffee brewing in the parlor.

And that's where you find the holy room I'm talking about. It's where good discussion takes place. Leo has some books spread out on the coffee table. The Bible. The Upper Room. Our Daily Bread. And of course, Oswald Chambers.

Every once in a while, we get to sit around and talk, we take a few minutes and see where we'vebeen that the readings take us back to, or where they'll head us...

A cup of coffee warms the belly, some friends and the Word warm the spirit.

Monday Night

Last night’s dinner and service was a bit more subdued. 70 people, and as I was wondering if we were at that point where we were seeing the numbers settle down to a natural point, Bill reminded me that next week is the Monday before the end of the month, and that will be a big night as everyone has to scramble to have enough until to pay rent, to wait for checks to come in, etc.

The service was good; I preached an updated version of Wesley’s sermon, “Scriptural Christianity.” I suppose it makes sense that if you are gathering people together who don’t go to church that Wesley’s sermons would hit the spot. One fellow came forward, seeking the peace of Christ in his life. The guy really has a tough row to hoe, and coming to Christ will mean a long hard look at where he is and why. That’s where the power is in Jesus—not a momentary feel-good, say a few right words and then right back at the old life…

We continue to notice the people who will not stay for a service. Some will leave if they know there is one. Some come in for a little while and then leave during singing or the sermon. A fellow who struggles with alcohol came up to me as he was leaving and said, “I enjoyed the sermon. I am going to keep coming and maybe I will be ready to be saved.” He wants it, but not enough, and knows he has to keep calling out to God to receive it.

We had soup beans and corn bread for dinner, so you know that was a hit.

We had a minor issue with a fellow who was not treating his wife well. She had wanted to pray with me, but he would not let her after the service. So I prayed with her at the meal. Next thing I know, he is hollering at her to get moving to where the food baskets are. I went over there to scope things out. He said something to her about making sure she wasn’t lying. It seems he is afraid she might be asking for prayer because of him. There was a chorus of ladies saying they would not put up with that from their man, etc. After some more abuse from him, I told him he needed to show more respect for his wife and others or he would not be allowed to come back. He called me a bastard and headed out. I went up behind him, mostly to make sure he was not being a chump. LG and G-man were coming in the door as he left, and LG said he was crying about “hypocrites.” I heard him carrying on about something as he went down the ramp. I asked him if he had anything to say. “You’re a damn hypocrite.” Like I worry about what he thinks. I told him alright, don’t come back.

It’s been about three weeks of that—setting some ground work for respect. There are always a few people who act out and embarrass others or just make people uncomfortable. If they can’t keep it in line, they’ll have to go until they can.

As we gathered after the meal, there were 21 volunteers who sat around to hear some words from Vanier’s book and to pray. We focused in the reading on issues about welcoming the poor and listening to them. And then also on being firm that no one has right to disrupt or abuse the fellowship, and leaders have no right to allow that to continue. It seemed strangely appropriate.

At one time, I had a baby-sitter ready for the boys. But they want to come to the dinner. I thought they would think it was boring, or that I was keeping them at the church too much. But no, they want to get right in and hang out, esp with the kitchen help. John sat and drank tea with Judy Lyon. How beautiful. She has been a part of his life since before he was born.

We have had this idea that what we want to have happen is for the folks who come to take ownership, to help. But we also want them to have a hand in what happens, how the ministry works. Can we turn it over to the folks who come? Already two cooks and three other helpers are people who come or who came to receive help. And now they give back.

Here’s how beautiful this work is:

Gwen saw the Upper Room (a book of devotional thoughts), and wondered if we would send one to her son, who is in prison. She then got to saying that maybe we should ask around the dinner and find out if anyone there has family in prison. Gwen would come to the church and make a package for them with an Upper Room and a note from her. This is the point of Methodism: do ministry to, such as feeding and clothing, preaching, all the while looking to do ministry from. That is to say, from the poor, from our own poverty of spirit.

And then there’s this: we’re going to have our first wedding from the Monday night ministry. A fellow I loosely know asked if I could marry people. Yes I can. Would I? he asked. Yes, I will. Taking the time, effort, and expense to do this ministry means, in this instance, that a couple does not have to go to get a legal contract of marriage enforced. They will do it before God.

Christ the Lord is risen today, alleluia, amen.

Scenes from Clerical Life

I am sitting at the kitchen bar, working on sermons and making Ramen noodles for the boys’ after school snack.

Jessie has alternately been doing laundry, sweeping the floor, encouraging the boys with their homework, and discussing with me a topic we often end up on, Jesus being the only way to salvation.

I am lucky to be a pastor. With the boys playing at my feet (Joe is a zoo-keeper catching the various animals that John is pretending to be) I get to work on what I will preach on Monday nights.

I have Wesley’s sermons open, because it strikes me that for the next many Mondays, that Wesley’s exposition of the Gospel there is precisely what will need to be preached.

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That was last night. This morning, I was up watching the news. Joe jumped onto the lazy boy with me and fell back asleep. It was good to snuggle with him. After a little while, we crawled back into bed with Jessie.

At church I had an interesting conversation with Leo and Barb. It was a conversation about how being homeless had been a blessing for them. They said they did not see it at the time, but as life has gone on, they know they are blessed. And it was interesting to get their take on Monday night. They said that while it was good to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, what you really need, Barb said, “is Christ crucified.”

Today at lunch, John was snuggled up to Jessie. Out of nowhere he told her that she needed to go to “Mommy School.” (It will be interesting to hear what they think Mommy School is after all the curriculum they developed for Daddy School.) He told her, “You’re not Jessie anymore.” I watched as she asked hopefully, “Who am I?” “Mommy,” he said. It was a tough and tender moment.

Baby Army

A number of years ago, John started talking about a “baby army.” It was literally that: an army of babies who would come and get the people who are mean to children. I think about this baby army quite a bit, wishing there was such a thing. And I think about it because I don’t think John or Joe know anything about abortion. And I wonder also how I will ever tell them that they should have an 18 yr old sibling, but I and the mother opted for death.

It also takes me back to my preoccupation with “children’s culture;” the games, the language, the stories—all the things children would come up with. Another way of thinking about it is to wonder how it is that adults tell children what to play, what to read, what to laugh at? That is, adults make the shows, write the books, etc.

What would children come up with by themselves? Can we learn to laugh with them?

I guess what has me thinking more about that is devotions last night. Jessie was reading from a book that was written as a family devotional, and it came to one of John and Joe’s favorite stories, Moses being placed in the Nile by his mother. They had a whole lot of comments about this, some of them coming from the Prince of Egypt, but lots of it coming from their recollection of the biblical story.

It raises the question for me: what is the most important part of the Exodus story? Is it the Passover? The creation of the worship space for the Israelites? Or is it baby Moses? Can we say that the story of a child, about a child, has importance only insofar as it leads to the story of that child as an adult, where the action really is?

I suppose that if we take inspiration seriously, we have to say that since it’s Scripture it’s vitally important. And if there is a preferential option for the poor, it is for children.

But we’re back to the age-old story: how do you devote a church to the poor, when the poor can’t pay the bills? When children can’t “contribute” in the ways that adults have structured leadership. We demand, finally, that children adapt to our culture. And until they can/do, they can be ministered to, but not with, and never from (it’s hard enough to get this done with adults…)

Luckily, the Rock is a place that more than puts its money where its mouth is. And we are starting to see on Monday nights, many more hands showing up to love. The trick will be to help people see that working with the poor is not cool or hip, or even energizing. I think as long as we think it is, we will be looking to work in cool places-- with adults, addicts, the homeless. All places that need serious ministry.

But let us not neglect the children. Let us not pass them off to such a specialized category of children's ministry that we don't just show up in their lives, too.

What the Bishop Said

The clergy of the Lexington District had a meeting with our new bishop, Lindsay Davis. After he had spoken for a bit about his expectations for his preachers, we had a time to ask questions.

I was at a table with Martina Ockerman and David Calhoun. Martina kept asking if she was dreaming, because he was talking right up our alley: Mission, evangelism, spiritual discipline, service to the poor.

I have a question I can't always formulate too well. It has to do with the poor not being able to support the denominational structure, and yet they are this huge, untapped population (remember: we have 100 new people every week, and if I had the room it could be 250, and if I had more money and more room, I think we could hit 500.) So I asked, "I can show you how to bring hundreds of people to our churches in less than a month, bit since they are poor, they can't afford us. How do we make it work?"

The Bishop had a simple, challenging response: "We have to love them enough to afford them."

What would happen, if we mystically extend this answer of the Bishop? That is to say, if we have to love the poor enough to afford them, is that not saying that they are a precious treasure? More important than a building? More important even than a pastor-- the things a church pays for?

A Second Look

There were 98 people in the meeting tonight. No room in the chapel; they were crowding in the

doorway to hear the Word.

Let me say this: when you get close to 100 people in our chapel, which could seat 75 comfortably, and when they are the kinds of people who need a free meal and a food basket, there is a smell to it, the sweat and dander of unwashed bodies. Since I got used to this smell in the houses I have visited over the past 8 years of ministry, I have wanted to smell that smell in a church, because, finally, it is the smell of God’s people, God’s lost sheep, and where else can disciples be, except ministering there?

It is an amazing thing. As we sat around after everyone was gone, I read to the volunteers from Mother Teresa. We decompressed a little and prayed. Martina prayed for us and we found that we could not have planned this or seen this, so many people, so much fellowship. And then the volunteers! 16 of them tonight. Some are from the church. But three are people who have come to the food bank. Clients are now serving. Next week it will be 5 volunteers from the ranks of clients. We have been looking for the “prophets among them.” We have tried to make sure that we make the move from doing ministry to people to doing ministry with people. And finally, doing ministry from the people.

When we started the service in the chapel, they sang a little with us on “Soon and Very Soon,” and “When We All Get To Heaven.” Then we said that we’d sing “Amazing Grace,” and a shout went up. We sang and could barely hear ourselves up front. Something about that song appeals to everyone. It says everything.

In the prayer time, a man called out that he wanted prayer for all the lost souls out there, including himself.

I preached from Ephesians 2:8, “it is by grace you have been saved.” I laid out the plain basis of grace, the gift of God to all who believe.

Two women came up to receive healing prayer.

And two men came forward to accept Christ.

Shadow Congregation

Well, you have to be careful what you wish for. Heck, you have to be careful what you plan for. We’ve been doing the Monday night meal and service for 5 or 6 weeks. Attendance has leveled at about 100. I was thinking maybe 70. I suspect that as winter comes on and heating bills are high, that we’ll be seeing more folks.

Anyway, what I call a shadow congregation has developed. Some people are coming precisely because there is a service. And as we pray for them and needs are raised, I see that I have picked up 100 people. Not 100 people who come on a Monday Mission Night, but 100 parishioners. Just like that.

And it means a new burden of pastoral care. There were hospital visits Friday and will be tomorrow. I don’t mind it all—it’s why I am a pastor. But the suddenness of it has been surprising. I expected we’d slug it out for a while before too many people felt comfortable discussing needs or even asking for pastoral care.

The goal of changing what we had been doing was to reach people with the gospel, to be really intentional about seeing people accept Christ as savior, to see them living with Him as Lord. It’s still pretty early for that, but it has progressed much more quickly than I anticipated.

George

Our neighbor, George, died yesterday morning. He has had multiple health problems-- lung, kidney, not sure what else. The boys really like him, and they loved getting to know his family as they came to take care of him when he was sick.

Yesterday, as the boys left for school, the ambulance arrived. We didn't think too much-- it had happened before, no one seemed in a rush. When I came back and saw TD, George's brother, he said he didn't make it, heart attack.

George used to sit on his porch and watch us in the garden. He was happy we were planting cabbage, carrots, and turnips. He said, "I'm Peter Rabbit..." And turnips are just about ready.

George is someone we got to know by sitting on the front porch. How sad it would feel if we had stayed in or stayed in the back, and George had just died next door, anonymously. Maybe I'm too sensitive about it. I'm sick of death. Had a moment a few weeks ago where I just did not want to be ion the hospital visiting anyone. And I don't want people to die and there just be nothing-- no knowledge of their story, their struggle, their joy.

TD told me that the night before he died, George told him he was getting it right with Jesus. TD asked him what he meant. "I've got to get it right before I go." TD told him he had plenty of time. Sometimes people know when it's their time to go.