Where You There?

Where were you on Monday, April 8, 1974, at 9:07 p.m.?

I was on the Midway Baptist Church bus—I wanted to paint the words Heaven Bound on the front but Preacher Bill said “No”--with the rest of our youth choir; we were pulling back into Barnesville on our return trip from the Liberty Baptist Church near Jackson, Georgia where we had just finished another dazzling performance of such contemporary classics as “Here Comes Jesus (See Him Walking on the Water)” and “Put Your Hand in the Hand (of the Man Who Stilled the Water).” Being Baptists, we had this thing about water, I guess.

It turned out to be yet one more experience of my missing something of great historical significance because I was at church. When the Beatles had first appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show, I was at church. When Hee-Haw was moved from Saturday at 7:00 p.m. to Sunday at 7:00, I was at church.

And, while I was coming back from church rather than sitting in church at 9:07 p.m. on Monday, April 8, 1974, it was nonetheless because of church that I missed Hank Aaron hitting his 715th career home run, thereby breaking Babe Ruth’s long-standing record.



I wasn’t at Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium. I didn’t see it on television. I didn’t even hear Milo Hamilton’s call on the Braves Radio Network.

I thereby proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was willing to give up more to follow Jesus than anyone had ever given up before or has given up since.

Not that it was necessarily up to me; the way my parents saw things, if seeing Jesus come back would have meant my missing church, I just wouldn’t have been able to see Jesus come back.

Since I’m a pastor I know that some folks will be shocked to hear me say it, but there are things in life that are worth missing church for. On the other hand, though, there aren’t enough things worth missing church for to explain the high volume of absences some worshippers of God pile up.

Given that I wasn’t there the night that Hammerin’ Hank broke the record, you might wonder why I have a certificate hanging in my study that says, “I was there when Hank Aaron hit his 715th career home run to pass Babe Ruth as the top home run hitter in the history of Baseball.” The reason is that my mentor Dr. Howard Giddens was there and, when he passed away, his certificate was passed along to me. In a way, then, I inherited not only the certificate but the experience from Dr. Giddens.

Sometime before Aaron broke the record, the late great Braves’ Hall of Fame third baseman and long-time Aaron teammate Eddie Mathews said, "I don't know where Hank Aaron will break Ruth's record but I can tell you one thing - ten years from the day he hits it three million people will say they were there." Mathew’s estimate was probably conservative.

In a way, though, I feel like I was there, and I don’t think it’s just because of the hundreds of times I’ve watched the replay or the numerous articles I’ve read about the event. Aaron’s breaking of Ruth’s record was a community event; it was a happening that was and always will be celebrated by all who belong to the family of Baseball—even those who were not there, even those who were not yet born, and even those who have not yet been born. Henry Aaron belongs to all of us and we will all always remember the glorious night that he broke the Babe’s record.

We in the church are also heirs of a great tradition.

Jesus said to Thomas on the Sunday after Easter Sunday, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” (John 20:29). One of the main reasons we are able to believe without seeing is that those who did see Jesus were faithful to pass on with their words and their lives who Jesus was, what he did, what he said, and, most importantly, the fact that he lives. No, we weren’t there, not literally, but we are among the millions and millions of people for whom the experience of Jesus is so vivid that we might as well have been—and that is in large part because of the way in which it has been, thanks be to God, passed down to us.

I think often about the scene in the book of Deuteronomy in which Moses led the first post-exodus generation, those who, after the first generation had passed on during the sojourn in the wilderness, were about to enter the Promised Land, in a covenant renewal ceremony. He said to them, “Not with our ancestors did the LORD make this covenant, but with us, who are all of us here alive here today” (Deuteronomy 5:3). The fact was that the vast, vast majority of his audience on that day had not been there forty years earlier when God had established the covenant with Israel. And yet Moses assured them that they had been. And so they had, because the traditions that are handed down are that alive and that enduring. But even more—the God who established the covenant was still alive and the relationship God established with God’s people was enduring.

Was I there when Hank Aaron broke Babe Ruth’s record? No, I wasn’t. And of course I was.

Was I there when God established God’s covenant with God’s people? No, I wasn’t. And of course I was.

Was I there when the disciples saw the resurrected Lord? No, I wasn’t. And of course I was.

And I still am …

Easter Changes Everything

The Church Council that met in 325 C.E. in Nicaea, a city in northwest Asia Minor, determined that Easter Sunday would be observed on the first Sunday after the full moon that falls on or after March 21. That means that Easter cannot occur before March 22 or after April 25. Thankfully, calendar makers keep up with the date so we don’t have to calculate it every year. This year Easter falls on March 31, in 2014 on April 20, and in 2015 on April 5.

For years I have said, “I wish that Easter was on the same Sunday every year.” I have felt that way because it would make planning a lot easier; when it comes to worship—not to mention family dinners and egg hunts— we wouldn’t have to deal with a different calendar each year.

I testify to you today that I have changed my mind about that. Why? Because we need to be reminded that everything depends on Easter and Easter’s movable date imposes such a reminder on us.

The date on which Easter falls determines the date on which many of our other Christian observances occur. So Ash Wednesday falls forty-six days before Easter because Lent, of which Ash Wednesday is the first day, is made up of the forty days plus the six Sundays immediately preceding Easter Sunday. Pentecost, on which we celebrate the falling of the Holy Spirit on the followers of Jesus and thus the beginning of the Church, occurs fifty days after Easter. So Easter, the most important day on the Christian calendar, determines when most of the other important days will be observed.

The movability of Easter, then, reminds us that Easter is the controlling event for other days. Indeed, Easter is the controlling event for all the days of our lives; the resurrection of Jesus determines the meaning of all of our days. Just as the date of Easter determines so much of our Christian year, so does the reality of Easter fill all of our days with life.

The movability of Easter also keeps us a little bit off balance; most of us probably don’t give too much thought to the date of Easter until we get into February or even early March and then we often find ourselves saying, “I can’t believe Easter is so early” or “I can’t believe Easter is so late.” We don’t control Easter; it happens when it happens. Once we do learn when it is going to occur, though, it controls us; it controls when a lot of church and family events are going to happen and, for those who follow the Christian calendar, it controls our pattern of Christian worship and our practice of Christian disciplines.

Easter can and should also control the ways we view and live our lives.

Easter can and should, for one thing, cause us to believe in life more than we believe in death. That’s a challenge because we are surrounded by death, both literal death—people die all the time—and figurative death—we all go through crises that make us feel like we are going to die. Easter means, though, that God’s way is that life wins out in the end. Jesus lay dead in his tomb on Saturday but on Sunday his life burst back into the world with a power that is transforming many of us from death to life and that one day will transform all of creation from death to life.

Meanwhile, we face the challenge of thinking, believing, and behaving in ways that affirm life rather than death.

Easter can and should, for another thing, cause us to believe that God’s ways are right and will be vindicated. Jesus not only taught love, mercy, and peace with his words; he also demonstrated love, mercy, and peace with his life. He not only told us to pray for our enemies, to forgive those who hurt us, and to turn the other cheek; he actually lived in all of those ways. Living in those ways led to his crucifixion and we have no reason to believe that living in those ways, if we were actually to live in those ways, would not lead to pain and suffering for us. But on the other side of crucifixion was, is, and will be resurrection. The resurrection of Jesus vindicated Jesus’ way of living out God’s way in the world; it also invalidated the way of responding to God’s way through manipulation, violence, and death. Our resurrection will, provided we by the grace of God and the power of God’s spirit live in God’s way, continue to vindicate God’s way as it seen in our lives.

Meanwhile, we face the challenge of thinking, believing, and behaving in ways that affirm God’s love, grace, and peace rather than the world’s hate, selfishness, and discord.

As Easter 2013 approaches, let’s be mindful of the centrality of the Easter event in our lives, in our world, and in history. The way it moves around may confuse us, but it also reminds us of what—and Who—matter most.

And I would suggest that we be ready to be surprised, but I guess that’s an oxymoron. Instead, I’ll just say let’s be open to however God chooses to make the new life in Christ evident to us, even if it does shake us up—which it will …

A Bomb in Gilead?

[This is my church newsletter column for this week.]

I was raised attending a church that knew nothing of such innovations as Extended Session and Children’s Church. If you were a child at the Midway Baptist Church located four miles outside of Barnesville, Georgia on City Pond Road (County Maintained) you were promoted straight from the nursery to the worship service.

I learned to count by trying to find the page numbers that my song leader father called out; I think that’s one reason that I was ahead of most of my peers on working with large numbers—I was navigating three-digit hymn numbers before I started kindergarten.

I was also hearing and singing hymns long before I could read the words, which meant that I heard and sang some interesting things.

For example, I heard and sang “Whosoever Shirley meaneth me” which left me wondering who “Shirley” was—there was no Shirley in our church—and why she wanted to be mean to me.

I also heard and sang “there my bird and soul found liberty” which left me confused because, while I was already pretty sure that I had a soul, I had no bird—not a parrot, not a parakeet, not a cockatoo, not even a Wild Chicken—that I could set free. Why did our songs challenge me with impossibilities?

I also heard and sang “There is a bomb in Gilead,” as in “There is a bomb in Gilead to make the wounded whole; there is a bomb in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.” And I wondered how in the world a bomb could bring about healing and wholeness. The answer, of course, is that it can’t.

What the old spiritual actually says is,

Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain,
but then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
there is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

The song is based on Jeremiah 8:22: “Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the health of my poor people not been restored?” A balm in Jeremiah’s day was a resin used for medicinal purposes; we use the term “lip balm” in our everyday language. So the prophet (and God through the prophet) was asking why the people would not turn in their hurt and brokenness to what God offered for their healing and wholeness.

The Lord through God’s Word and Spirit asks us the same thing.

While my child’s ears did not hear what the songwriter meant nor what the Lord in fact offers they did hear what we sometimes do to ourselves: where the Lord offers a balm—grace, peace, love, forgiveness, and hope—for our healing, we will instead in our hurt and brokenness reach out to what we can find for ourselves and thereby end up blowing ourselves, our situations, and our relationships sky high.

When we are as individuals or as a community hurting, we can choose between the Lord’s balm and our bombs.

Balm is better.

A Lent Devotion

[Note: our church produced a Lent devotional guide with devotions written by members of our church family. This is the devotion I wrote for Friday, February 15.]


Psalm 31

I once locked myself in the trunk of my father’s car. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

What happened was this: my father was doing some work in the yard and for some reason he had the trunk of his car open. My seven-year-old brain thought, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I hid in the trunk and then, when Daddy opens it back up, he’ll be surprised to see me, and I’ll jump into his arms, and we’ll have a good laugh about it.”

My seven-year-old brain did not think about the fact that it would be, once I closed the lid, dark in there—but it was. So as soon as the lid latched and the darkness enveloped me, I began to flail, kick, and scream for Daddy to come let me out of that dark, scary place in which I had placed myself.

Daddy came quickly and when he opened the trunk I did in fact jump into his arms and he did in fact have a good laugh about it. As for me, I had a good cry.

Once he stopped laughing he continued to hold me and asked, “Son, why did you close yourself up in the trunk?”

“I…(sniff)...don’t…(sniff)...know.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t do that again.”

“I…(whimper)...won’t.”

He set me down and that was that.

Upon reflection, I realized that I had done a foolish and maybe even a dangerous thing. Upon further reflection, I realized that while I was wrong in my actions, I was right in my expectations: my father would come for me, would hold me, would help me, would correct me, and would love me. I could count on my father, I knew, because he had always been there before and had always come through before.

I never locked myself in a car trunk again, but I have over the years done many a foolish and even dangerous thing. In every case, my Father—my God—has come for me, has held me, has helped me, has corrected me, and has loved me.

God has always been there, even when I was afraid that I had put myself beyond his reach. God has always loved me, even when I was afraid that I had become too foolish to love.

Lent is a time to reflect on our sins and repent of them. It is also a time to remember the steadfast love of God who loves neither because of nor in spite of who we are, but because of who God is—and God is love.

Opportunity

[Note: I, like many pastors, write a regular column for our church's weekly newsletter. This Sunday evening, the Baptist Church of Fitzgerald, GA will discuss and vote on a recommendation to change our by-laws so as to remove our present restriction of our Deacon ministry to men and thus open such service up to women. What follows is the column I wrote for this week's newsletter, the last one before the Church Conference at which we will consider this important matter.]

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As you know, we will at our Church Conference this Sunday evening discuss and vote on a proposed by-law change that would change our church’s policy of restricting Deacon service to men and thus make it possible for women to serve as Deacons. One good thing that comes from such a discussion is that we all become even more interested than usual in what the Bible says.

A couple of passages from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians have been on my mind as we have prayed, talked, and walked together through our consideration of this matter.

I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all. (Ephesians 4:1-6)

Speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love. (Ephesians 4:15-16)

Another good thing that can come from a discussion like this one is that it can provide an opportunity for the church family to show that it is indeed a family that speaks and acts in ways that show that we are growing in unity, in peace, in hope, in faith, and especially in love. As your Pastor I want you to know how proud I have been of the Christian love and grace that you have displayed toward each other as we have moved toward a decision on this important matter. The Spirit, love, and grace of Christ that are in us have been evident and I am sure they will continue to be evident as we discuss and vote on the proposal Sunday evening and as we move forward to live, love, and serve in light of our decision.

Yet another good thing that can from a discussion like this one is that we all spend extra time praying. As we continue to pray, let’s remember the prayer that Jesus prayed for us:

I ask…that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. (John 17:20-23)

Your Pastor,

Mike

Keys

As she moves into her new place in Augusta, Sara decided to make use of an old jewelry box that once belonged to Old Juanita. Old Juanita was my aunt, the wife of my father’s older brother Jack. Uncle Jack always called her “Old Juanita,” as in “Me and Old Juanita were talkin’ the other day and she said…” I always called her “Aunt Juanita.”

Anyway, after both Uncle Jack and Aunt Juanita died, Sara came into possession of the jewelry box. She has had it for a few years but just now is putting it to use. When she set about cleaning it out she discovered some interesting things.

For one thing, she found some calling cards with my father’s name on them. “Champ Lee Ruffin”—that’s all they said. Why did Daddy have calling cards? Why were they in Aunt Juanita’s jewelry box? It is a mystery.

For another thing, she found Uncle Jack’s military medals. He served with the Army Air Corps in Europe during World War II. I don’t know what I’ll ever do with those medals, but I do know I’ll keep them since Uncle Jack and Aunt Juanita had no children to whom I can pass them along.

She also found keys—lots of keys.

I put all the detecting skills that I have acquired by watching hundreds of episodes of crime dramas and by reading dozens of crime novels (I am a fan of the “noir” genre) to detect that some of the keys were for suitcases. The word “Samsonite” on them was my first clue. Since those particular suitcases are long gone, I threw those keys away.

I threw all the other keys away, too, most of which appeared to be house keys. But those keys got me to thinking.

There was a time when those keys opened doors, probably doors to Aunt Juanita and Uncle Jack’s house in East Point or later to the Ruffin home place in Yatesville after they retired and moved back there. There was a time when those keys let them into the places where they felt safe and secure and at home. There was a time when those keys were very significant, very meaningful, and very necessary.

That time has passed; other people now live in those houses and other keys open those doors. The doors are still important but the keys that open them have changed.

I threw all the keys away because there is no reason to hold on to them. I could have held on to them for nostalgic reasons like I am holding on to Uncle Jack’s medals, but there are things that should be discarded as life progresses and circumstances change.

Sometimes, if you want to keep opening the doors, you have to use the new key, even if you’ve had the old one for a long, long time…

It’s Almost Time for “Merry Christmas!”

I confess to having slipped up a few times since December 2 and saying “Merry Christmas,” which I intended not to do.

That sounds weird, I know, given that so many of my Christian friends are making a point of saying “Merry Christmas” in an effort to “keep Christ in Christmas” and to combat what they see as the increasing secularization of Christmas symbolized by the use of the phrase “Happy Holidays.”

Don’t get me wrong; we have done our best to get ready for Christmas at our house, considering that our month started with our son’s wedding a thousand miles away in the mysterious and wonderful land of Wisconsin. The house is decorated; the stockings are hung; there are presents under the tree; the kitchen is filled with cookies and candy. Santa Claus is coming to town and, given that he has never missed our house, I’m sure he’ll show up again this year.

On Christmas Eve we will, like we do on every Christmas Eve, enjoy a nice supper of soup and sandwiches, spill out the contents of our stockings (no matter what else is in mine, it’s the Reese’s Christmas trees to which I look forward the most), watch “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and go to bed. On Christmas Day we will, like we do on every Christmas Day, open our presents, eat a turkey dinner that can’t be beat (my favorite dish is the Kentucky Corn Pudding—thanks, Patty Fasey, wherever you are), and hang around being family.

Santa Claus will be safely back at the North Pole, Blitzen and crew will be having a much needed rest, our Christmas tree will suddenly look empty and sad, we’ll all own a little more stuff, and Christmas will be over.

Only it won’t be. Not really. Not at all.

That’s because on the Christian calendar, December 24 is the last day of Advent, the last day of our four-week long preparation for Christmas, and December 25 is only the first day of Christmas. Our Christmas observance lasts for twelve days and does not end until January 5.

The embrace of this fact by more of us would be a very significant and helpful development for several reasons.

First, it would lessen the temptation to let ourselves get caught up in the so-called “War on Christmas.” The truth is that the weeks leading up to Christmas Day in America have been and will remain swallowed up by the cultural and commercial aspects of the season which frankly, when participated in with moderation, are rather enjoyable. As I have written previously, Christians would be well served to take the Season of Advent, those four weeks that focus on quietly and seriously anticipating the coming of Christ in all of the ways that he comes, more seriously.

Second, it would set aside significant time to celebrate Christmas when we have time to celebrate Christmas. For many of us, the days following Christmas Day involve a slowing of the pace and a reduction in activity. We have some time to reflect. Let’s use the Twelve Days of Christmas to spend some time reflecting on the coming of Christ as Christmas. This year, our church, like many churches, produced an Advent devotional guide that included a reading for each day of Advent. Our church’s booklet is also a Christmas devotional guide since we included readings for each of the twelve days of Christmas. This is not about leaving our Christmas decorations up until Epiphany (although that’s not a bad idea); it is about adopting some disciplines that will help us to spend some time and energy reflecting on the meaning of Christmas.

Third, it would encourage a renewed emphasis on the reality of incarnation. Incarnation means the embodiment, the taking on of flesh, by the spiritual or the divine. Christmas is about God putting on flesh in the baby Jesus. As Paul says of Christ, he “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:7-8). The Incarnation, in other words, gave the second person of the Trinity the opportunity and privilege of serving God by serving others and loving others by giving himself up, even to the point of giving his very life.

The emphasis on the Incarnation of God in Jesus Christ is one we need to reclaim because it reminds us that the essence of God’s love is in service and self-sacrifice. We who are the Church are the Body of Christ and so we are to continue the incarnational ministry of a presence in the world that is servant-oriented and sacrifice-based.

As of December 25 and through January 5, let’s be intentional about saying “Merry Christmas” to each other, but let’s do so knowing that it is code for “Remember that we are the Body of Christ, that we are to serve, and that we are to give ourselves away.”