Memorial Day

Memorial Day has a history in America born of equal parts patriotism, pride, and of course, memory.  The latter portion of the triad now being the structure upon which the day is built . . . a day to remember sacrifice, devotion, and those departed.  Some of this memory may hearken back to distant wars, even contemporary ones . . . but "Memorial Day" is first and foremost about remembering.

There is, of course, much to remember.

And the older we become, the greater the portion of our lives that is caught up in memory rather than projection.  Or, in other words, as we move past the half-century mark for sure, we begin to glimpse most of our life as behind us, and thus our memories take on greater weight and import. Memory is foundation.  The future is lived out of the security of the past.  This is often why we find change difficult as we grow older.  Our threads to the past are longer, stitched in tighter.

But Memorial Day is a time to remember.  We may remember past heroes, yes . . . but we are more likely caught up in trying to dredge up memories that have grown overcast or pixilated by the passage of time.  We may discover that memories of grandparents, parents, or even children have taken on a lustrous pallor.  We have a tendency to remember only what is pleasing to us.  We rarely speak unkindly of the dead.

This latter reality, of course, has ancient roots and is milled into our DNA.  While some cultures actually venerate the ancestors, American culture has tended to erect shrines and memorials instead.  We believe that our memories can be preserved in limestone or bronze.  In other cultures, these memories are preserved in story, in legend, in tales told around the hearth.  We have a tendency to chisel names in stone and forget about them.  In other cultures, the ancestors live on in story.

Perhaps this is one way that we can understand the gospel of Jesus more powerfully.  The gospels are ancient memories . . . the stories told around the hearth:  Have I told you about the hero, Jesus?  Let us recall what he said.  What he did.  How he died.  How he lived.  

So now, on this Memorial Day weekend, we remember. This is difficult business for most of us.  Memories don't come easy.  

But they are there if we sit and wait for them.   

Whether the Weather

There is a passage in the books of the Kings where the prophet Elijah, depressed and running for his life, has retreated to a cave.  His intent is to flee from the wicked queen Jezebel, but he discovers that he cannot, in fact, flee from God.

God finds Elijah in the cave . . . but not in the expected fashion.

There is fire, but God is not in the fire.  There is wind, but God is not in the wind.  And at last there is stillness . . . and God is there.

I think of this stillness whenever I ponder natural disasters like the tornadoes in Oklahoma City where, it always seems, people want to make theological pronouncements about the tornadoes being "the finger of God" or "God's will" or even "God's punishment".

And yet, if we take a lesson from Elijah, we will not find God in the wind, but in the stillness following . . . and especially in the helpfulness of the church, the acts of compassion, and the peace that follows acts of charity and embrace.

Regardless of the weather, God is with us.  Or, as the apostle Paul once noted, nothing in heaven or earth can separate us from the love of God in Christ.

Weather changes.  But the grace of God does not.

Home Sweet Home

There are a great many sayings that evoke strong feelings for home.  A few of these might be:  "Home, Sweet, Home" or "There's no place like home" or "As for me and my house . . . ."

In recent years, as people have lost homes due to foreclosure, or natural disaster, or personal tragedy, the home has risen to the forefront, once again, as one of life's greatest blessings.  Everyone needs a home--and we often forget about those who have been displaced, or who do not have adequate housing, or who are, indeed, seeking a home or a homeland.  There is, in fact, no place like home.

Likewise, we may often take for granted our sacred space--that space we call "church" or "sanctuary" or "classroom".  A church is a spiritual home and inside the walls God's people gather for worship, learning, serving.

At Calvary, we dare not forget the blessings of our home--our building we call Calvary.  When we moved to our present location in December of 2006, we moved with the vision of making disciples, of being a growing church and embracing new families.  God has granted our prayers, as we have nearly doubled in size since we moved into the present facility--the fifth in Calvary's 185-year history.

Our $17,000 a month mortgage represents our home--a place shared by all and offered to all with open minds, open hearts, and open doors.  Our mortgage makes it possible for us to keep our home.  And so, it does take "all" or everyone to make our home complete. 

Just like the homes we all live in, we need to cherish our spiritual home by maintaining it, cleaning it, repairing it, and paying for it . . . endeavors which, of course, cost money. 

As you consider your gifts of time, talent and treasure . . . and your gratitude for our spiritual home . . . consider what your contribution will be.  Perhaps you have never contributed to Calvary's mortgage.  Or perhaps you have a special gift of gratitude to offer?

Now is the day for gratitude . . . may God move mightily in the hearts and bank accounts of the people called Calvary as we care for our home, our sacred space, in the months ahead!

~Pastor Todd

The Sacrament of the Empty Chair

Last weekend we experienced over-crowded conditions at Calvary during our confirmation.  Many people.  Few vacant chairs.  A full house.

But there was still room at the inn.  We were plush, but there were seats.  

And yet, especially in the crowd, we may not consider how significant an empty chair is to a guest or first-time visitor at Calvary. An empty chair is an invitation.  An opportunity.  An opening.  An empty seat can be sacramental--if sacrament be defined as a sacred invitation containing the presence of God.

Likewise, when we occupy a chair, we want to do more than just sit in it.  Our presence should have sacred significance, as we have created a sacred space with God.  We need to participate, to place our whole selves in the chair, as we dare not take a space that could be occupied by a participant, by someone who is bringing their whole heart, their whole being, to God.

I think about this as I sit up front in "my chair" during worship.  I dare not just "be there".  I need to bring something. . . some gift of mind, of body, of word.  I need to occupy my chair, not just sit in it.

When guests arrive at Calvary, I hope they will not only find an empty seat, but open hearts, open minds, and open doors.  I hope they will be able to participate, to feel welcomed, into God's presence.  I hope they will feel, by the time they depart, that they have truly experienced God's grace and are ready to face their life's deepest challenges.

The empty chair.  Is there one near the seat you occupy?  Are you aware of the new faces around you?  Could that one empty chair be filled by someone you might invite to Calvary next week?    

Excitement

In the late 1950s a writer by the name of Ted Geisel submitted a first grade reader to a school board for consideration.  The school board ultimately selected a different reader that went by the title, Dick and Jane.  For many first graders of the 1960's, this reader was the standard text from which first graders learned.  The book read like such:  "See Dick run."  "See Jane run."  "See Spot run."  "Run, Spot, run."

The reason the board selected Dick and Jane was because they believed that children should not be excited when learning to read.  The story, they contended, should be secondary to the words that children needed to learn by sight.  Story didn't matter.  Only the words mattered.  And the simpler the better.

Excitement, however, is an amazing phenomenon when we encounter it.  Employees who are excited about their work create great companies.  Athletes who are excited about practice produce championships.  Spouses who are still excited about each other have great marriages.  Students who are excited about learning gain superior knowledge.

And the same holds true for the church.  

Are you excited about being a member at Calvary?  Are you excited to see what God is doing?  Are you excited to be a part of God's work?  Are you excited about participating?  Are you excited to invite others?

I hope you are.  Excitement is catching, it is life-changing.  In fact, we can't do our best or create our best without it.

Excitement.

And by the way . . . that book that the school board rejected?  It was The Cat in the Hat.  And Ted Geisel wrote under the pen name, Dr. Seuss.    

Confirmation

This Sunday, May 5, at the 11:11 a.m. worship hour, several young teenagers will confirm their faith in Christ.  I hope you can be there.

Confirmation, perhaps, is the most important "witness" we can share in the company of the faithful.  It is at once a verbal testimony, a sharing of belief, a historic rite, and a personal confession that binds us together with the great cloud of witnesses.  Confirmation is not the last step of learning, but the first step of a life-long commitment to learning:  about God, our discipleship, and a life of faith.

This year, perhaps, I was least involved in the lives of these disciples.  But while I was not present for most of the classes, the retreats, the work days, the worship, and the fun . . . I know that Pastor Michelle, Andrew Attwood, Trevor Farmer, the mentors, and the parents were learning alongside these remakable kids.  Confirmation is one of the ministries we do best at Calvary--and if you don't believe that, ask one of these students what they have learned about Christ.  We have phenomenal teens at Calvary--and equally remarkable leadership and families!

My message to the confirmands, in particular, and to the congregation, in general, will be a simple one next weekend:  We are being sent.  Jesus, in fact, used that word a great deal in the gospels.  Jesus said that he had been sent by his heavenly Father.  He also told his disciples that he would send the Holy Spirit to be with us forever.  And the final instruction Christ gave his disciples was:  I am sending you into all the world. 

So we are sent.  Christ was sent.  And we follow Christ.  We are sent.

Now the question:  As you have confirmed your faith in Christ . . . where is Christ sending YOU?  Is it to a friend or neighbor in need?  Is it into some work?  Is God sending you to lead a ministry in your church?  Is God sending you blessings so you can be a blessing to others?  Is God sending you wealth so you can send more to God's work?  Is God sending you across the street?  Across the continent? 

Only you and God can answer the question.  But you are sent!

    

Pastoral Thoughts

In recent months I have been writing a series of essays about pastoral ministry--primarily from the perspective of a guy who has been preaching since he was nineteen and who has been engaged in the work, now, for over thirty years. Some of these essays have been published, or are forthcoming, in preaching and ministry magazines . . . and I'm still producing them.

Not that we need other thoughts about pastoral work.  There are many titles out there.  More than enough to fill most pastor's shelves.  But there is no doubt that pastoral ministry continues to evolve, as each generation adds new expectations, needs, hopes, demands, and difficulties to the ecclesiastical plate.

And as we continue to engage in our size-transitional work at Calvary, much of the conversation eventually comes round again to the role of pastor(s) in the congregation and, in our more lucid moments, reminds us that this role is, and has always been, adapting and morphing into new approaches and, well . . . transitions.

I believe the church in America is experiencing another such transition currently, and the role of pastor is changing yet again (while, of course, keeping the appearance and vestigial function of the old appendix and gall bladder).  Pastoral work is still about the gospel of Jesus, leading and comforting, challenging and envisioning . . . but there is no doubt many of the old methodologies will not work well in the new world.

I am aware of this even more as I do research on Calvary's past.  Reading the journals of the early pastors (the circuit riders) who established Calvary back in the late 1820's, I see that their lives were marked by many of the same charges:  preaching the gospel (good news!), creating a vision of God's future, organizing the church for ministry, and raising funds. 

Pastors still do all of these things (and much more), but the tools we use and the expectations of the church are now far more varied and broad.  Calvary is no where near the same congregation she was in 1828.  I am not Joseph Tarkington.  I do not ride a horse.  (Though I do drive a car that is just as sluggish and undependable as his borrowed mare.)

There are more than 120 pastors who have served Calvary over the years.  Most stayed a year or less.  But now we are engaged in a much different conversation as a people:  How are we doing God's work together as a congregation of 1000 members (and supporting ministry with time, talent and treasure) . . . and how committed are we to this work of God?

What do you think?