Everyone in the Church should read Brennan Manning's book The Signature of Jesus (Multnomah, 1988). Particularly pertinent for those in the church circles within which I run is chapter 10, "The Discipline of the Secret," which is presented as "An open letter to American Christians." Here are some of Manning's powerful words:
I am deeply disturbed by what I can only call in our Christian culture the idolatry of the Scriptures. For many Christians, the Bible is not a pointer to God but God himself. In a word--bibliolatry. God cannot be confined within the covers of a leather-bound book. I develop a nasty rash around people who speak as if mere scrutiny of its pages will reveal precisely how God thinks and precisely what God wants.
The four Gospels are the key to knowing Jesus. But conversely, Jesus is the key to knowing the meaning of the gospel--and of the Bible as a whole. Instead of remaining content with the bare letter, we should pass on to the more profound mysteries that are available only through intimate and heartfelt knowledge of the person of Jesus.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Pray for Cecil Sherman
July 28, 2008
From Daniel Vestal:
We received word today that Dr. Cecil Sherman, founding coordinator of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, has been diagnosed with acute leukemia. He is in M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, Texas, for tests and possible treatment options. His wife, Dot, continues to be in failing health in Richmond. Please join me in prayer for Cecil and Dot as well as their daughter Eugenia Brown during this difficult time.
From Daniel Vestal:
We received word today that Dr. Cecil Sherman, founding coordinator of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, has been diagnosed with acute leukemia. He is in M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, Texas, for tests and possible treatment options. His wife, Dot, continues to be in failing health in Richmond. Please join me in prayer for Cecil and Dot as well as their daughter Eugenia Brown during this difficult time.
Thoughts on a Tragedy
On Sunday morning a gunman walked into the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church in Knoxville while a children’s program was being presented and opened fire with a shotgun. Two people were killed and five were seriously wounded. It is at least a little piece of good news that no children were killed or injured.
The police have tried to shed some light on the possible motives of the alleged gunman, 58-year-old Jim D. Adkisson. They found a letter in his vehicle in which he apparently expressed hatred for the liberal movement in the United States; he evidently associated the Unitarian Universalist Church with such liberalism. The authorities speculate that the gunman’s frustration with his inability to secure employment combined with his hatred of liberalism to prompt the shooting; he apparently had no previous connection with the church.
Such an act is horrendously sinful. It is also irrational. After all, untold numbers of Americans harbor extremely negative feelings toward those they regard as liberals—and untold numbers of other Americans harbor extremely negative feelings toward those they regard as conservatives—but almost none of those who nurture such emotions would ever even think about perpetrating violence against the objects of their mental wrath. So it seems to me that someone must be thinking and acting irrationally if he takes up arms and attacks innocent and unarmed people.
There is a lesson that all of us can learn from this incident, though: we should ask the Spirit of God to cause us to grow in love so that we will come to refrain naturally from using hateful words that come out of hateful hearts. To determine if we need to offer up such prayers we need to examine our own words and our own hearts.
I am concerned about the kind of discourse that goes on in our nation even among Christians. We categorize people and then we verbally attack the categories; we generalize about people and then we verbally assault the generalizations. Of course, we seldom mount such verbal offensives face-to-face; no, we express our negative thoughts to other similarly negatively thinking people and from their agreement conclude that we have found validation. In confining our remarks to such circles we can even delude ourselves into thinking that practically everybody thinks like we do—after all, everybody we talk to agrees with us! We even have our own particular news sources so that our biases won’t be challenged.
Let’s face it—all too often liberals despise conservatives or conservatives despise liberals, or these despise those or those despise these—you can name your own categories. And all too often words are spoken that reveal such hate.
Sometimes you can even hear such words in conversations among Christians—even in small groups at church.
A billboard near our church contains a public service announcement that has a picture of a confused looking little girl and the caption, “When you yell at your spouse, what is she hearing?” Well, when we attack and caricature and lampoon those with whom we disagree, what are our children—be they literal children or children in the faith—hearing? When we stay off to ourselves in our own viewpoint-affirming circles and talk about others without even getting to know them, what are we teaching our children about how Christians are to relate to others?
After all, how can we converse without meeting? How can we relate without understanding? How can we love without knowing?
“The way I talk says nothing about what’s really in my heart,” you might say.
But Jesus says, “The good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good, and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil; for it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks.”
“OK, then, what’s in my heart may not be all that good but at least I would never do what that man did in Knoxville.”
But Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.”
No, we would not use our hands to kill those with whom we disagree. But what do our words reveal about our hearts? What do our hearts reveal about our lives?
The police have tried to shed some light on the possible motives of the alleged gunman, 58-year-old Jim D. Adkisson. They found a letter in his vehicle in which he apparently expressed hatred for the liberal movement in the United States; he evidently associated the Unitarian Universalist Church with such liberalism. The authorities speculate that the gunman’s frustration with his inability to secure employment combined with his hatred of liberalism to prompt the shooting; he apparently had no previous connection with the church.
Such an act is horrendously sinful. It is also irrational. After all, untold numbers of Americans harbor extremely negative feelings toward those they regard as liberals—and untold numbers of other Americans harbor extremely negative feelings toward those they regard as conservatives—but almost none of those who nurture such emotions would ever even think about perpetrating violence against the objects of their mental wrath. So it seems to me that someone must be thinking and acting irrationally if he takes up arms and attacks innocent and unarmed people.
There is a lesson that all of us can learn from this incident, though: we should ask the Spirit of God to cause us to grow in love so that we will come to refrain naturally from using hateful words that come out of hateful hearts. To determine if we need to offer up such prayers we need to examine our own words and our own hearts.
I am concerned about the kind of discourse that goes on in our nation even among Christians. We categorize people and then we verbally attack the categories; we generalize about people and then we verbally assault the generalizations. Of course, we seldom mount such verbal offensives face-to-face; no, we express our negative thoughts to other similarly negatively thinking people and from their agreement conclude that we have found validation. In confining our remarks to such circles we can even delude ourselves into thinking that practically everybody thinks like we do—after all, everybody we talk to agrees with us! We even have our own particular news sources so that our biases won’t be challenged.
Let’s face it—all too often liberals despise conservatives or conservatives despise liberals, or these despise those or those despise these—you can name your own categories. And all too often words are spoken that reveal such hate.
Sometimes you can even hear such words in conversations among Christians—even in small groups at church.
A billboard near our church contains a public service announcement that has a picture of a confused looking little girl and the caption, “When you yell at your spouse, what is she hearing?” Well, when we attack and caricature and lampoon those with whom we disagree, what are our children—be they literal children or children in the faith—hearing? When we stay off to ourselves in our own viewpoint-affirming circles and talk about others without even getting to know them, what are we teaching our children about how Christians are to relate to others?
After all, how can we converse without meeting? How can we relate without understanding? How can we love without knowing?
“The way I talk says nothing about what’s really in my heart,” you might say.
But Jesus says, “The good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good, and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil; for it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks.”
“OK, then, what’s in my heart may not be all that good but at least I would never do what that man did in Knoxville.”
But Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.”
No, we would not use our hands to kill those with whom we disagree. But what do our words reveal about our hearts? What do our hearts reveal about our lives?
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Good News: Nothing Can Separate Us from the Love of God
(A Communion Meditation based on Romans 8:26-38 for Sunday, July 27 )
Many of you will remember the excitement, the awe, and the wonder that surrounded the space program in the 1960s. I was a child but I was absolutely fascinated by the adventures of our space explorers as they broke the bonds of earth and soared ever closer to the moon. I became very nervous, though, when an astronaut slipped from his orbiting space capsule in order to walk in space. How vulnerable the astronaut must have felt as he abandoned the relative security of the capsule and as he floated out into airless and star-spangled space. And how grateful he must have been for the lifeline that kept him tethered to the space capsule, that kept him from careening off into the nether reaches of outer space, and that, most importantly, kept him connected to the air supply that would keep him alive.
While a spacewalk was underway, though, all I could think of was what would happen were that lifeline to snap. Were the astronaut to become separated from his source of life, then all the threats that outer space held would come crashing in on him. An astronaut’s lifeline has never broken—but it could. Even now, when an astronaut leaves a space shuttle to inspect it for possible damage or to work on the space station, it could happen (although some modern space walks are done untethered).
We who trust in Christ have a lifeline, too; we who are Christians are connected to the source of life. The source of life is God’s love for us; the lifeline is Jesus Christ himself. And unlike the lifeline that connects the astronaut to the spaceship, nothing can break that lifeline because nothing can undo what Jesus Christ has done; nothing can separate us from the source of life because nothing can cut us off from the love that God has for us.
That is not to say that sometimes we will not wonder if or be afraid that we have been cut off from God’s love. Stuff happens. And when stuff happens, it can cause us to doubt God’s love and even God’s presence. We need to understand that God’s love and God’s presence do not depend on something as unstable as our circumstances or on something as unsteady as our feelings. God’s love depends on nothing other than God’s love—and nothing is more dependable than that!
So you face a health crisis—yes, it’s malignant; yes, they’re blocked; yes, it’s bad—and your emotions swing toward despair and in your despair you wonder where God is; but God is still there, because nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. So you face a family crisis—yes, your marriage is in trouble; yes, your child is estranged; yes, your parent is developing Alzheimer’s—and your emotions veer toward panic and in your panic your wonder where God is; but God is still there, because nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. So you face a personal crisis—yes, your job may be cut; yes, you are teetering on the edge of depression; yes, you just can’t quite see what your life is all about—and your emotions swerve toward hopelessness and in your hopelessness you wonder where God is; but God is still there, because nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
It is in fact in such devastating circumstances and in the midst of such troubling emotions that we can come to depend most on the love of God and we can become most aware of the fact of our salvation.
For example, when things seem futile and hopeless, we might find it difficult or even impossible to pray. Oh, we try—we go before God and we attempt to articulate our needs and concerns—but nothing seems to happen. Our emotional reaction is that God must not be listening, that God must be far away, and that God must not love us. In fact, though, in such times God is taking over for us. “That very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words,” Paul says (v. 26). It may sound strange to us to hear that God prays to God on our behalf, but that’s just how much God is for us and how much God works to help us. That’s how much he loves us; that’s one way we know that nothing can separate us from God’s love in Christ Jesus. Our awareness that the Spirit is praying on our behalf can also assure us of our place in God’s kingdom—just as we are utterly dependent on God for our salvation, so we remain utterly dependent on God throughout our lives. That sense of dependence reminds us and assures us of God’s love for us.
It is, you see, really all about God and what God has done, is doing, and will do. Nothing can separate us from God’s love in Christ Jesus our Lord.
How much does God love us? How much is God for us? How strong is the lifeline connecting us to the love of God? The Table of the Lord reminds us. Paul said, “If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else?” (vv. 31b-32). The giving of God’s Son for us is the ultimate guarantee of God’s unfailing love for us and of his presence with us. At the Table we are reminded of our lifeline—God’s love for us is “in Jesus Christ”; it is Jesus Christ who died on the cross for our sins who is our lifeline, who connects us most surely with the love of God.
So as we share in the Supper, let us celebrate: nothing—not war, not the economy, not family struggles, not deadly diseases, not rejection, not even death itself—can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord!
Friday, July 25, 2008
8mm Ghosts
Sometime between my first and second birthdays and thus sometime between the fall of 1959 and the fall of 1960, my father acquired a Brownie 8mm movie camera. He filmed every family gathering, every family vacation, and many church events for the next ten years or so. Somewhere along the way the camera died. When my father died in 1979, I inherited his movies and his movie projector. Somewhere along the way the projector died, too. I guess it had been twenty years or more since I last viewed those images.
That changed this week.
I finally got around to having some of the old movies transferred to DVD. This week we received the first of what I think will be three DVDs before all is said and done. We watched it on Wednesday night.
And I saw ghosts. I saw loved one after loved one who have long been dead.
I saw my dog Ruff. There we were when I was around two, playing in the back yard. There he was running around in the aftermath of the freak Middle Georgia snowstorm of 1964.
I saw all four of my grandparents—Granny and Papa and MawMaw and PawPaw—smiling as they opened Christmas presents, surrounded by their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
I saw aunts—Clara and Ruth and Bonnie and Myrtice. I saw uncles—Troy and Kitch and Cuz and Bub. I saw a cousin—Ellen. I saw them all, celebrating holidays together at one of the Abbott family homes in Barnesville or at the big Ruffin house in Yatesville.
I saw Preacher Bill putting his jacket into his car following an Easter Sunday service.
I saw Mama and Daddy. There was Daddy, playing with me in the snow, polishing my new cowboy boots, helping me find Easter eggs, and horsing around with other family members. There was Mama, unwrapping a Christmas present, talking to the other ladies in the family, and laughing. My last memories of her are of times that were so hard—I’m so glad that I can see her laughing.
And I saw me. I was crawling around on the floor. I was standing beside the flower-covered grave of my little brother. I was riding my rocking horse. I was shooting one toy gun or another. I was playing in my birthday cake. I was opening Christmas presents. I was progressing from a darling little boy (if I do say so myself) to the nerd I was destined to be as an adolescent (thankfully Daddy’s camera broke before I got to the really awkward stage).
I saw ghosts. I saw dead people. I saw phases of my life that are long gone.
But in everybody that I saw and in everything that I saw, I saw pieces of me. It is weird to see all of those people moving around again but they’ve been moving around in me for my whole life. Even that little delighted little boy that I used to be, even that awkward bigger boy that I once was—I still am those boys, sometimes and in some ways.
The ghosts are friendly, by and large—and so I am grateful. I am grateful that they live on in the old movies that have now been preserved in a more durable format. But I am even more grateful that they live on in me.
Today, on what would have been my father's 87th birthday, I thank him for the good gift of the 8mm ghosts.
I see them also as yet more grace from a most gracious God.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
An Apt Metaphor
A monk was asked by a television interviewer to describe in thirty seconds life in the monastery. His answer: "We fall down, then we get up. We fall down, then we get up. We fall down, then we get up. We fall down, then we get up...." (Bradley P. Holt, Thirsty for God, p. 10) It sounds to me like a good way to describe the life of all Christians.
Dr. Giddens Reference at EthicsDaily.com
Michael Helms' article "Making Interruptions into a Ministry," which originally appeared in the Moultrie Observor and which I mentioned previously here at On the Jericho Road, appears today at EthicsDaily.com. It's a very good article in its own right, but I am especially grateful for the reference to Dr. Howard Giddens.
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