Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Wise Words from One of Fitzgerald's Finest
They are from Rev. Julie Whidden Long, who grew up in the First Baptist Church of Fitzgerald and who now serves as Minister to Children and Families at First Baptist Church of Christ in Macon, Georgia. Her article "Forming the Faith of the Next Generation" appeared in the Macon Telegraph on Saturday, January 24, 2009.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Oprah for Senator?
Illinois Gov. Rob Blagojevich has said that he considered appointing Oprah Winfrey to the Senate seat vacated by President Barack Obama.
And now--the top ten reasons that the governor should have done so:
10. She has some people who could help him with his hair.
9. She could publish his article "How to Govern Wisely and Well for Fun and Profit" in O magazine.
8. Nobody--but nobody--would be better at a filibuster.
7. She would look great on camera during President Obama's State of the Union address when the director wants a shot of someone looking mesmerized.
6. She could fund all those bailouts.
5. She might feature his autobiography on Oprah's Book Club.
4. C-Span could use a ratings boost.
3. You never know--sound government may be one of her favorite things.
2. She's slightly better known than the guy who got the job--you know, old what's his name.
1. Who needs lobbyists when you never know what Oprah is going to leave under your seat?.
And now--the top ten reasons that the governor should have done so:
10. She has some people who could help him with his hair.
9. She could publish his article "How to Govern Wisely and Well for Fun and Profit" in O magazine.
8. Nobody--but nobody--would be better at a filibuster.
7. She would look great on camera during President Obama's State of the Union address when the director wants a shot of someone looking mesmerized.
6. She could fund all those bailouts.
5. She might feature his autobiography on Oprah's Book Club.
4. C-Span could use a ratings boost.
3. You never know--sound government may be one of her favorite things.
2. She's slightly better known than the guy who got the job--you know, old what's his name.
1. Who needs lobbyists when you never know what Oprah is going to leave under your seat?.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Obfuscation by my Ilk
I, like all others of my ilk, work in words, and that can be a challenge; for example, I just had to look up the word “ilk” to make sure that it was appropriate to use in the context in which I just used it and, I am happy to report, it is, and that’s why I left it in, although I or someone else of my ilk might have chosen to use a different word that might have not have required looking up, such as “type” or “kind.” But I like the sound of the word “ilk” and so that’s the one I chose to use.
“Ilk” rhymes with various words, “silk” and “milk” among them, and speaking of milk, I have not yet seen Milk, which I would very much like to see, nor have I seen any of the other nominees for the 2009 Oscar for Best Picture: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, The Reader, or Slumdog Millionaire, all of which I’m sure are outstanding for many reasons, not the least among them being the quality of the words that make up the scripts and the quality of the delivery of those words by the fine actors who make up the casts.
I am especially interested in seeing Frost/Nixon because I always have been and always will be, it appears, fascinated by the sordid saga of Watergate, a scandal that had to do with paranoia, espionage, politics, money, power, and—words. When you get right down to it, words are what finally brought down the Nixon presidency—the words that were written by Woodward and Bernstein, the words that were spoken by witnesses before the Senate Watergate Committee, and the words that were preserved by the White House’s handy dandy taping service.
Yes, words are powerful things, and they can be used for good or harm, for building up or for tearing down, for love or for hate, and for clarification or obfuscation (yep, I had to look that one up, too, and yep, it’s also appropriate in that context).
Speaking of obfuscation, I think that one of the great challenges of preaching, which is one of the tasks that falls to me with maddening regularity, is to avoid it—obfuscation, not preaching. After all, as the opening chapter of the Fourth Gospel puts it, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth,” and part of what that means, I think, is that in the person of Jesus Christ the eternal Word of God stood right there in front of people or sat right there beside people and basically said, “OK, here I am—plain as the nose on your face and obvious as the sun in sky on a cloudless day—so what are you going to do with it or about it.”
Oh, I know that when Jesus spoke he often spoke in parables and I know that he said something about it being part of the plan that people who couldn’t get it wouldn’t get it and that he quite often had to explain to those who ordinarily stood or sat or reclined—which I understand was the usual eating position back then and that strikes me as awfully inconvenient and uncomfortable--the closest to him what it was that he was talking about, but still, there he was, right there in the flesh, the ultimate testimony to how far Almighty God would go to say, “Here I am—do something or say something or for God’s sake, at least think something or feel something.”
I fear that sometimes I stand in front of the people of God in the house of God and read the Word of God in response to which they say “Thanks be to God” and then I expound on it in ways that, rather than shining light on that Word, cast shadows on it—you know, obfuscate it. My even greater fear is that sometimes my life, out of which my words come, has its own shadows that obfuscate—there’s that word again—the Word for me and, if that’s case, how on earth can I make it clear to anyone else?
Ah, but then there’s grace, isn’t there? Yes, thank God, there’s grace.
After 35 years of working at this preaching thing, it seems to me that my responsibility is to live as close to the living Word who is Jesus Christ as I, with the help of the Spirit of God, can, to study the written Word with all my heart, mind, and strength, and to cast my sermons in words that are as precise, as clear, as open, as obvious, and—dare I say it?—as beautiful as I can make them.
When my words are precise, clear, open, obvious, and beautiful as they can be—well, that’s God’s grace, isn’t it?
And when my words obfuscate—well, God’s grace covers me and my poor listeners, doesn’t it?
Maybe that’s one of the most valuable truths that I and those of my ilk can ever realize.
In their love song Words, the Bee Gees sang, “It’s only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away.” Well, words are all we preachers have to take away the breath of our listeners and to turn their hearts toward God—but, by the grace of God, behind our words, beneath our words, and within our words--whether those words on that particular Sunday illuminate or obfuscate-- lurks the Word of God—thanks be to God.
“Ilk” rhymes with various words, “silk” and “milk” among them, and speaking of milk, I have not yet seen Milk, which I would very much like to see, nor have I seen any of the other nominees for the 2009 Oscar for Best Picture: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, The Reader, or Slumdog Millionaire, all of which I’m sure are outstanding for many reasons, not the least among them being the quality of the words that make up the scripts and the quality of the delivery of those words by the fine actors who make up the casts.
I am especially interested in seeing Frost/Nixon because I always have been and always will be, it appears, fascinated by the sordid saga of Watergate, a scandal that had to do with paranoia, espionage, politics, money, power, and—words. When you get right down to it, words are what finally brought down the Nixon presidency—the words that were written by Woodward and Bernstein, the words that were spoken by witnesses before the Senate Watergate Committee, and the words that were preserved by the White House’s handy dandy taping service.
Yes, words are powerful things, and they can be used for good or harm, for building up or for tearing down, for love or for hate, and for clarification or obfuscation (yep, I had to look that one up, too, and yep, it’s also appropriate in that context).
Speaking of obfuscation, I think that one of the great challenges of preaching, which is one of the tasks that falls to me with maddening regularity, is to avoid it—obfuscation, not preaching. After all, as the opening chapter of the Fourth Gospel puts it, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth,” and part of what that means, I think, is that in the person of Jesus Christ the eternal Word of God stood right there in front of people or sat right there beside people and basically said, “OK, here I am—plain as the nose on your face and obvious as the sun in sky on a cloudless day—so what are you going to do with it or about it.”
Oh, I know that when Jesus spoke he often spoke in parables and I know that he said something about it being part of the plan that people who couldn’t get it wouldn’t get it and that he quite often had to explain to those who ordinarily stood or sat or reclined—which I understand was the usual eating position back then and that strikes me as awfully inconvenient and uncomfortable--the closest to him what it was that he was talking about, but still, there he was, right there in the flesh, the ultimate testimony to how far Almighty God would go to say, “Here I am—do something or say something or for God’s sake, at least think something or feel something.”
I fear that sometimes I stand in front of the people of God in the house of God and read the Word of God in response to which they say “Thanks be to God” and then I expound on it in ways that, rather than shining light on that Word, cast shadows on it—you know, obfuscate it. My even greater fear is that sometimes my life, out of which my words come, has its own shadows that obfuscate—there’s that word again—the Word for me and, if that’s case, how on earth can I make it clear to anyone else?
Ah, but then there’s grace, isn’t there? Yes, thank God, there’s grace.
After 35 years of working at this preaching thing, it seems to me that my responsibility is to live as close to the living Word who is Jesus Christ as I, with the help of the Spirit of God, can, to study the written Word with all my heart, mind, and strength, and to cast my sermons in words that are as precise, as clear, as open, as obvious, and—dare I say it?—as beautiful as I can make them.
When my words are precise, clear, open, obvious, and beautiful as they can be—well, that’s God’s grace, isn’t it?
And when my words obfuscate—well, God’s grace covers me and my poor listeners, doesn’t it?
Maybe that’s one of the most valuable truths that I and those of my ilk can ever realize.
In their love song Words, the Bee Gees sang, “It’s only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away.” Well, words are all we preachers have to take away the breath of our listeners and to turn their hearts toward God—but, by the grace of God, behind our words, beneath our words, and within our words--whether those words on that particular Sunday illuminate or obfuscate-- lurks the Word of God—thanks be to God.
Monday, January 19, 2009
About Dr. King
[Note: This is a reprint of my post from April 4, 2008, the fortieth anniversary of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I reproduce it here in honor of the Martin Luther King holiday.]
Forty years ago today I was a nine-year-old going on ten-year-old boy living in the little house at 228 Memorial Drive in Barnesville, Georgia, which was (and is) situated about midway between Atlanta and Macon on U.S. Highway 41. That evening I was, as usual, watching the nineteen-inch black and white television set in our small den. The program I was watching was interrupted by a news bulletin in which it was reported that Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot in Memphis, Tennessee.
I lived a very sheltered and limited life. The fifteen mile trip to Griffin was a big deal. The fifty mile trip to Atlanta was downright mind-boggling. But the one place I had visited that was a long way away was Memphis. My parents had friends there. To me, Memphis was a place of exotic wonders like the zoo and the Lakeland amusement park and shopping malls and lots of traffic signals and their friends’ teenage daughter Marsha.
Now it had become the place where Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot. That made me sad.
I did not at that tender and more or less innocent age know a lot about Dr. King. I had heard of him but I didn’t understand the issues that mattered to him and to everybody else who was paying attention. But I learned something that night.
I learned about hate.
My mother and another adult member of our extended family were back in my parents’ bedroom. I think they were working at the sewing machine. I went back to the bedroom and told them, “They just said on the TV that Martin Luther King has been shot in Memphis.” Our relative formed a pistol with her hand, placed it against her temple, and said, “I hope they got him right there.” I don’t remember what my mother said.
Later that night, though, when Mama and I were alone, she said, “Mike, don’t you ever repeat what she said. That was wrong.” “I won’t,” I promised.
The next day, my fourth grade teacher Mrs. Tenney, a good-hearted person, tried to talk to our class about what had happened in Memphis. Now, this was 1968 in a small town in the deep South. I attended Gordon Grammar School, which was the city public school. We children were living in ignorance of what was to come two years later when the desegregation of our public schools would commence. In 1968 we were still operating under the “freedom of choice” policy which meant that we had an all-black county school, Booker T. Washington School, an all-white county school located in the even smaller town of Milner, and the mostly white city school at Gordon. A handful of black parents did send their children to Gordon. There were one or two black children in my fourth grade class.
So it was that Mrs. Tenney talked with us. She asked something like, “What have you heard people say about Dr. King’s assassination?” I remembered my promise to my mother—briefly. Then I raised my hand and repeated what our family member had said. I don’t remember what Mrs. Tenney said in response, but I’m sure that she tried to say that such an attitude was wrong.
It never occurred to me how the words I repeated right out loud in that fourth grade classroom might have affected my black classmates.
It never occurred to me how different the discussions must have been that were going on at Booker T. Washington School, where there were no white students or teachers or administrators to utter the kind of hateful words that I repeated that morning.
My family member, whose finger I can still see pressed against her temple and whose vicious smile I can still see and whose words I can still hear, really did hate Dr. King. It was obvious.
Now I want to speak a difficult truth. While I doubt that many of the people around me would express such hatred for Dr. King, I can testify to the fact that many of the people that I know do not cherish his memory because they do not appreciate his work and his legacy.
I’m talking about white people, of course, and I can do that, because I am one.
I have to admit that the attitudes of some white folks toward Dr. King surprise me. Now, we all know that Dr. King was not a perfect man. He had his faults. So do we all. There are a few things that I wish those folks would remember, though.
One thing is that Dr. King’s mission was very much driven by his Christian commitment. Most if not all of the people I know who resent Dr. King consider themselves to be Christians. Well, he was their brother in the faith. He loved and served the same Jesus that they love and serve. Those of us who were adults back in his day should have been at the very least loving and praying for him. We need to see Dr. King’s work in the context of his Christian heritage and commitments.
A second thing is that Dr. King had right on his side. God knows that we still have a long way to go. Dr. King’s dream of a society in which people are judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character is still far from realized. Statistics reveal that the black community is beset by tremendous problems, most of which are related to poverty. Nonetheless, America would never even have the chance to live up to her highest ideals of freedom and justice so long as equal rights under the law were not accorded to all of her citizens. People who follow Jesus and whose lives are guided by his teachings should care deeply about all human beings being treated as human beings.
A third thing is that Dr. King was the right man in the right place at the right time. During my ordination council interrogation, Dr. Carey T. Vinzant, the retired president of Tift College, asked me if the Apostle Paul could have done the work that he did for the Lord had he not had the education that he had. I stammered out an answer that I thought sounded pretty pious; it amounted to “I reckon that God could have done with Paul whatever he needed doing regardless of Paul’s education.” Dr. Vinzant smiled and said, “You may be right. But it seems to me that it was very important that Paul was educated in both the Jewish and Greek worlds since it was his special calling to translate the Jewish-based Christian faith for a Gentile audience.” Dr. Vinzant was right, of course.
Dr. King came along at a time when American society needed to face up to its racial divide and to its systematic discrimination against and disenfranchisement of a huge segment of its population. Because of his background, because of his natural gifts, because of his education, and especially, I believe, because of his commitment to nonviolent protest, Dr. King was the right man in the right place at the right time. I understand that as the Civil Rights movement progressed some young black leaders became disenchanted with Dr. King’s peaceful approach and advocated more direct and even violent action. I wonder if my friends in the white community who don’t like Dr. King have stopped to consider how much more difficult things could have been had he not taken the peaceful approach he did?
Race relations in the real world can be difficult. I know that. But we who are Christians should lead the way in this and in all matters that revolve, in the final analysis, around love. Dr. King saw and lived in the midst of a wrong and he tried to right it and he did so in a way that honored the Savior whom he served. Would that the same could be said about all of us.
Forty years ago today I was a nine-year-old going on ten-year-old boy living in the little house at 228 Memorial Drive in Barnesville, Georgia, which was (and is) situated about midway between Atlanta and Macon on U.S. Highway 41. That evening I was, as usual, watching the nineteen-inch black and white television set in our small den. The program I was watching was interrupted by a news bulletin in which it was reported that Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot in Memphis, Tennessee.
I lived a very sheltered and limited life. The fifteen mile trip to Griffin was a big deal. The fifty mile trip to Atlanta was downright mind-boggling. But the one place I had visited that was a long way away was Memphis. My parents had friends there. To me, Memphis was a place of exotic wonders like the zoo and the Lakeland amusement park and shopping malls and lots of traffic signals and their friends’ teenage daughter Marsha.
Now it had become the place where Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot. That made me sad.
I did not at that tender and more or less innocent age know a lot about Dr. King. I had heard of him but I didn’t understand the issues that mattered to him and to everybody else who was paying attention. But I learned something that night.
I learned about hate.
My mother and another adult member of our extended family were back in my parents’ bedroom. I think they were working at the sewing machine. I went back to the bedroom and told them, “They just said on the TV that Martin Luther King has been shot in Memphis.” Our relative formed a pistol with her hand, placed it against her temple, and said, “I hope they got him right there.” I don’t remember what my mother said.
Later that night, though, when Mama and I were alone, she said, “Mike, don’t you ever repeat what she said. That was wrong.” “I won’t,” I promised.
The next day, my fourth grade teacher Mrs. Tenney, a good-hearted person, tried to talk to our class about what had happened in Memphis. Now, this was 1968 in a small town in the deep South. I attended Gordon Grammar School, which was the city public school. We children were living in ignorance of what was to come two years later when the desegregation of our public schools would commence. In 1968 we were still operating under the “freedom of choice” policy which meant that we had an all-black county school, Booker T. Washington School, an all-white county school located in the even smaller town of Milner, and the mostly white city school at Gordon. A handful of black parents did send their children to Gordon. There were one or two black children in my fourth grade class.
So it was that Mrs. Tenney talked with us. She asked something like, “What have you heard people say about Dr. King’s assassination?” I remembered my promise to my mother—briefly. Then I raised my hand and repeated what our family member had said. I don’t remember what Mrs. Tenney said in response, but I’m sure that she tried to say that such an attitude was wrong.
It never occurred to me how the words I repeated right out loud in that fourth grade classroom might have affected my black classmates.
It never occurred to me how different the discussions must have been that were going on at Booker T. Washington School, where there were no white students or teachers or administrators to utter the kind of hateful words that I repeated that morning.
My family member, whose finger I can still see pressed against her temple and whose vicious smile I can still see and whose words I can still hear, really did hate Dr. King. It was obvious.
Now I want to speak a difficult truth. While I doubt that many of the people around me would express such hatred for Dr. King, I can testify to the fact that many of the people that I know do not cherish his memory because they do not appreciate his work and his legacy.
I’m talking about white people, of course, and I can do that, because I am one.
I have to admit that the attitudes of some white folks toward Dr. King surprise me. Now, we all know that Dr. King was not a perfect man. He had his faults. So do we all. There are a few things that I wish those folks would remember, though.
One thing is that Dr. King’s mission was very much driven by his Christian commitment. Most if not all of the people I know who resent Dr. King consider themselves to be Christians. Well, he was their brother in the faith. He loved and served the same Jesus that they love and serve. Those of us who were adults back in his day should have been at the very least loving and praying for him. We need to see Dr. King’s work in the context of his Christian heritage and commitments.
A second thing is that Dr. King had right on his side. God knows that we still have a long way to go. Dr. King’s dream of a society in which people are judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character is still far from realized. Statistics reveal that the black community is beset by tremendous problems, most of which are related to poverty. Nonetheless, America would never even have the chance to live up to her highest ideals of freedom and justice so long as equal rights under the law were not accorded to all of her citizens. People who follow Jesus and whose lives are guided by his teachings should care deeply about all human beings being treated as human beings.
A third thing is that Dr. King was the right man in the right place at the right time. During my ordination council interrogation, Dr. Carey T. Vinzant, the retired president of Tift College, asked me if the Apostle Paul could have done the work that he did for the Lord had he not had the education that he had. I stammered out an answer that I thought sounded pretty pious; it amounted to “I reckon that God could have done with Paul whatever he needed doing regardless of Paul’s education.” Dr. Vinzant smiled and said, “You may be right. But it seems to me that it was very important that Paul was educated in both the Jewish and Greek worlds since it was his special calling to translate the Jewish-based Christian faith for a Gentile audience.” Dr. Vinzant was right, of course.
Dr. King came along at a time when American society needed to face up to its racial divide and to its systematic discrimination against and disenfranchisement of a huge segment of its population. Because of his background, because of his natural gifts, because of his education, and especially, I believe, because of his commitment to nonviolent protest, Dr. King was the right man in the right place at the right time. I understand that as the Civil Rights movement progressed some young black leaders became disenchanted with Dr. King’s peaceful approach and advocated more direct and even violent action. I wonder if my friends in the white community who don’t like Dr. King have stopped to consider how much more difficult things could have been had he not taken the peaceful approach he did?
Race relations in the real world can be difficult. I know that. But we who are Christians should lead the way in this and in all matters that revolve, in the final analysis, around love. Dr. King saw and lived in the midst of a wrong and he tried to right it and he did so in a way that honored the Savior whom he served. Would that the same could be said about all of us.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Paying Attention
(A sermon based on 1 Samuel 3:1-20 for Sunday, January 18, 2009)
We need to pay attention. We need to pay attention to the world around us; we need to pay attention to the life within us; we need to pay attention to the people near us—but, most especially, we need to pay attention to the God who made us, who saves us, and who summons us to follow.
It is important that in every time, in every place, and in every generation God’s people listen for and hear God’s voice in their lives. It is important that we here at the First Baptist Church of Fitzgerald listen for and hear God’s voice. That voice tends to be a still, small one, to be sure, and so we often must be very intentional about paying attention to it. I want to challenge us today to such intentionality.
Our text is about Samuel hearing God’s voice; Samuel was a young man who was hearing the voice of God calling him to serve in a particular way. But all of us, no matter what age we are and no matter at what point in life we find ourselves need to pay attention to the voice of God and to the claims that God’s voice is placing upon our lives. Usually when we think or talk about God calling someone we think about God calling a young person. So here we are—young and old and everything in between and it is thus important to say at the outset that God’s voice can come to anyone at any stage in his or her life. Any of us—all of us—can and will hear the voice of the Lord if we are careful to listen and if we are open to what it says to us. And we all need to pay attention.
Interestingly, in today’s text God’s voice comes in the context of a transition in leadership. We are in the midst of a transition in leadership since I am still in my early days as your pastor, but really such transitions take place all the time as we always have a new generation of Christians arising in the church. Doing what we need to do will take all of us and so we all need to pay attention to the voice of God.
God is speaking to us and God will speak to us; the question is, will we pay attention?
I. We all need to pay attention to God’s voice
People in every generation need to hear God’s voice and to do the best they can to carry out the call that accompanies that voice but people in every generation will have mixed success at carrying out God’s call. No doubt the priest Eli had experienced many successes in his ministry at Shiloh but he had also experienced his share of failures. So it is with all leaders; so it is with all people. Sometimes we will do well at following and sometimes we will not do so well; acknowledging that going in will help guard us from frustration.
The Bible tells us that the Lord decided to take the leadership of Israel away from the family of Eli because of the sins of his sons and because of Eli’s unwillingness or inability to correct them. Leadership could not be passed on to Eli’s sons so it was going to pass to Samuel instead. Regardless of the reasons and the circumstances, though, the call of God must be passed on to new leadership in every generation. Life is dynamic; nothing ever stands still or stays the same. The church is also dynamic; nothing ever stands still or stays the same, and one of the ways that the church is constantly changing is that we have to identify and nurture and develop and accept the voice of new leaders who are willing to pay attention to God and to try their best to obey God.
Notice in the story how young Samuel listened to old Eli and how old Eli listened to young Samuel. Each generation listened to the other and in listening to each other each generation heard the voice of the Lord. In the church the different generations need to listen to each other because in so doing they just might hear the voice of God.
We all need to pay attention to the voice of God.
II. We all need to be available to pay attention to God's voice
Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD when he heard God’s voice. It is possible that he was participating in a ritual whereby he slept in the tabernacle near the Ark of the Covenant in order to put himself in a position to hear the voice of God. If that is the case, it raises two questions.
First, might Samuel’s mentor Eli have guided him into that situation? Those of the more experienced generation of leadership need to encourage our young people to put themselves in a position to hear God’s voice in their lives. We can do that, and parents have a special role here, by making sure that our children are in worship and in Bible study and on mission projects so that they will be available to hear God’s voice; we also need to make sure that our homes are places where such paying attention is fostered and encouraged. The church also has a role in providing worship, study, and service opportunities that are geared to our youth so that they might hear the voice of God in their own language—another version of Pentecost, if you will. The next generation is responsible to hear for themselves, but the older generation is responsible to help them hear.
Second, why did Samuel mistake the voice of God for the voice of Eli? Perhaps he was just not mature enough to know the voice of God when he heard it. Regardless, here we get a glimpse of a situation that people, and perhaps especially young people, struggle with in their efforts to ascertain the voice of God. Are they hearing the voice of God? Are they hearing the voice of circumstances? Are they hearing the voice of peers? Are they hearing the voice of family? Are they hearing the voice of church members? Or are all of those voices combining to give voice to the voice of God?
I perceived that God was calling me to preach when I was fourteen years old. When I got older and became a little more reflective, I began to ponder the circumstances that surrounded my perception of that call. My mother, a very devoted Christian, was terminally ill with cancer. My church family spoke of God’s call only in terms of a call to full-time Christian ministry and never in terms of a call to a profession as a Christian layperson. My emotional stability was very much based in pleasing people. Might I have heard those voices rather than the voice of God? I came to realize, though, that I had heard the voice of God and that even if God had used some of those other voices to get my attention, they had finally led me in the right way. God does in fact speak to us through other people and through circumstances as well as through the Spirit, through the Bible, and through the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.
How does the voice of God come to us, then? It comes to us through the events of our lives; it comes to us through the words and example of other people, and it comes to us through the Spirit of God, through the witness of Scripture, and through the example of Jesus.
Not long ago I composed a short prayer that captures it for me:
O Lord, help me to listen.
Help me to listen to my life;
Help me to listen to the people in my life;
Help me to listen to you because you are my life!
O Lord, help me to listen.
III. We all need to accept the challenge of paying attention to God’s voice
The dynamics created when the voice of God is heard and responded to by a new generation—or for that matter by the older generation when we start listening carefully—can be difficult. All generations in the church experience significant challenges that must be navigated as we try together to pay attention to what God is saying to us. We may not always like what we hear from each other but we always need to consider carefully that the word we don’t want to hear may, in fact, be from the Lord.
Whomever God chooses to work through and however God chooses to work, the appropriate affirmation for us is that of Eli when Samuel told him what the Lord had said to him: “It is the LORD; let him do what seems good to him” (v. 18b). We need to have the faith that through or in spite of what we have done and are doing, God is working his purposes out and the future is in God’s hands, hands that are much more capable than ours.
Telling the truth that we learn as we pay attention to God’s voice can be a challenge but it is a challenge to which we must respond with courage, with love, and with grace. Often the Old Testament prophets were called to proclaim a message that was hard for people to hear and hard for the prophets to speak. And so Samuel was afraid to tell Eli what God had said to him because that message contained negative words about Eli’s family. All of God’s people, those in every generation, need to pay attention to the voice of God in our lives and that means facing squarely and speaking boldly, but with love and grace, the words that God gives us to say. If we have to say things that are hard for us to say and for others to hear, so be it, so long as our saying them is motivated by obedience and seasoned with love. And if others have to say things that are hard for them to say and for us to hear, so be it, so long as their saying them is motivated by obedience and seasoned with love.
To be the Church we simply must work at paying attention to God and at speaking the truth to one another in love.
Conclusion
God is speaking to us and God will speak to us; the questions are: (1) Will we pay attention? and (2) Will we respond by doing what God leads us to do and saying what God leads us to say? We are the people of God and God will teach us through God’s Spirit, through the Bible, through the events of our lives, through other people, and through the example of Jesus if we will just pay attention. Will we? Will we commit ourselves to paying attention to the voice of God?
We need to pay attention. We need to pay attention to the world around us; we need to pay attention to the life within us; we need to pay attention to the people near us—but, most especially, we need to pay attention to the God who made us, who saves us, and who summons us to follow.
It is important that in every time, in every place, and in every generation God’s people listen for and hear God’s voice in their lives. It is important that we here at the First Baptist Church of Fitzgerald listen for and hear God’s voice. That voice tends to be a still, small one, to be sure, and so we often must be very intentional about paying attention to it. I want to challenge us today to such intentionality.
Our text is about Samuel hearing God’s voice; Samuel was a young man who was hearing the voice of God calling him to serve in a particular way. But all of us, no matter what age we are and no matter at what point in life we find ourselves need to pay attention to the voice of God and to the claims that God’s voice is placing upon our lives. Usually when we think or talk about God calling someone we think about God calling a young person. So here we are—young and old and everything in between and it is thus important to say at the outset that God’s voice can come to anyone at any stage in his or her life. Any of us—all of us—can and will hear the voice of the Lord if we are careful to listen and if we are open to what it says to us. And we all need to pay attention.
Interestingly, in today’s text God’s voice comes in the context of a transition in leadership. We are in the midst of a transition in leadership since I am still in my early days as your pastor, but really such transitions take place all the time as we always have a new generation of Christians arising in the church. Doing what we need to do will take all of us and so we all need to pay attention to the voice of God.
God is speaking to us and God will speak to us; the question is, will we pay attention?
I. We all need to pay attention to God’s voice
People in every generation need to hear God’s voice and to do the best they can to carry out the call that accompanies that voice but people in every generation will have mixed success at carrying out God’s call. No doubt the priest Eli had experienced many successes in his ministry at Shiloh but he had also experienced his share of failures. So it is with all leaders; so it is with all people. Sometimes we will do well at following and sometimes we will not do so well; acknowledging that going in will help guard us from frustration.
The Bible tells us that the Lord decided to take the leadership of Israel away from the family of Eli because of the sins of his sons and because of Eli’s unwillingness or inability to correct them. Leadership could not be passed on to Eli’s sons so it was going to pass to Samuel instead. Regardless of the reasons and the circumstances, though, the call of God must be passed on to new leadership in every generation. Life is dynamic; nothing ever stands still or stays the same. The church is also dynamic; nothing ever stands still or stays the same, and one of the ways that the church is constantly changing is that we have to identify and nurture and develop and accept the voice of new leaders who are willing to pay attention to God and to try their best to obey God.
Notice in the story how young Samuel listened to old Eli and how old Eli listened to young Samuel. Each generation listened to the other and in listening to each other each generation heard the voice of the Lord. In the church the different generations need to listen to each other because in so doing they just might hear the voice of God.
We all need to pay attention to the voice of God.
II. We all need to be available to pay attention to God's voice
Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD when he heard God’s voice. It is possible that he was participating in a ritual whereby he slept in the tabernacle near the Ark of the Covenant in order to put himself in a position to hear the voice of God. If that is the case, it raises two questions.
First, might Samuel’s mentor Eli have guided him into that situation? Those of the more experienced generation of leadership need to encourage our young people to put themselves in a position to hear God’s voice in their lives. We can do that, and parents have a special role here, by making sure that our children are in worship and in Bible study and on mission projects so that they will be available to hear God’s voice; we also need to make sure that our homes are places where such paying attention is fostered and encouraged. The church also has a role in providing worship, study, and service opportunities that are geared to our youth so that they might hear the voice of God in their own language—another version of Pentecost, if you will. The next generation is responsible to hear for themselves, but the older generation is responsible to help them hear.
Second, why did Samuel mistake the voice of God for the voice of Eli? Perhaps he was just not mature enough to know the voice of God when he heard it. Regardless, here we get a glimpse of a situation that people, and perhaps especially young people, struggle with in their efforts to ascertain the voice of God. Are they hearing the voice of God? Are they hearing the voice of circumstances? Are they hearing the voice of peers? Are they hearing the voice of family? Are they hearing the voice of church members? Or are all of those voices combining to give voice to the voice of God?
I perceived that God was calling me to preach when I was fourteen years old. When I got older and became a little more reflective, I began to ponder the circumstances that surrounded my perception of that call. My mother, a very devoted Christian, was terminally ill with cancer. My church family spoke of God’s call only in terms of a call to full-time Christian ministry and never in terms of a call to a profession as a Christian layperson. My emotional stability was very much based in pleasing people. Might I have heard those voices rather than the voice of God? I came to realize, though, that I had heard the voice of God and that even if God had used some of those other voices to get my attention, they had finally led me in the right way. God does in fact speak to us through other people and through circumstances as well as through the Spirit, through the Bible, and through the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.
How does the voice of God come to us, then? It comes to us through the events of our lives; it comes to us through the words and example of other people, and it comes to us through the Spirit of God, through the witness of Scripture, and through the example of Jesus.
Not long ago I composed a short prayer that captures it for me:
O Lord, help me to listen.
Help me to listen to my life;
Help me to listen to the people in my life;
Help me to listen to you because you are my life!
O Lord, help me to listen.
III. We all need to accept the challenge of paying attention to God’s voice
The dynamics created when the voice of God is heard and responded to by a new generation—or for that matter by the older generation when we start listening carefully—can be difficult. All generations in the church experience significant challenges that must be navigated as we try together to pay attention to what God is saying to us. We may not always like what we hear from each other but we always need to consider carefully that the word we don’t want to hear may, in fact, be from the Lord.
Whomever God chooses to work through and however God chooses to work, the appropriate affirmation for us is that of Eli when Samuel told him what the Lord had said to him: “It is the LORD; let him do what seems good to him” (v. 18b). We need to have the faith that through or in spite of what we have done and are doing, God is working his purposes out and the future is in God’s hands, hands that are much more capable than ours.
Telling the truth that we learn as we pay attention to God’s voice can be a challenge but it is a challenge to which we must respond with courage, with love, and with grace. Often the Old Testament prophets were called to proclaim a message that was hard for people to hear and hard for the prophets to speak. And so Samuel was afraid to tell Eli what God had said to him because that message contained negative words about Eli’s family. All of God’s people, those in every generation, need to pay attention to the voice of God in our lives and that means facing squarely and speaking boldly, but with love and grace, the words that God gives us to say. If we have to say things that are hard for us to say and for others to hear, so be it, so long as our saying them is motivated by obedience and seasoned with love. And if others have to say things that are hard for them to say and for us to hear, so be it, so long as their saying them is motivated by obedience and seasoned with love.
To be the Church we simply must work at paying attention to God and at speaking the truth to one another in love.
Conclusion
God is speaking to us and God will speak to us; the questions are: (1) Will we pay attention? and (2) Will we respond by doing what God leads us to do and saying what God leads us to say? We are the people of God and God will teach us through God’s Spirit, through the Bible, through the events of our lives, through other people, and through the example of Jesus if we will just pay attention. Will we? Will we commit ourselves to paying attention to the voice of God?
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Hair
People of my generation will remember those great lyrics from that ‘60s rock musical:
Gimme a head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me it down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair.
“Gimme a head with hair.” Oh yeah.
I remember my hair.
When I was little my folks kept my hair really, really short—it was basically a buzz cut. As I got older and nerdier my parents arranged with my barber Mr. Spears to keep me in a hair style that befitted said nerdiness.
But I wanted long hair, by which I meant hair that came over my ears a little bit. My mother was adamantly opposed to such a development although I really don’t know why; I suppose she thought such shagginess would be the first step down the short road to utter degradation and unbridled licentiousness. I eventually did manage to allow my hair to creep over my ears bit by bit so that by the time I was fourteen they were about three-quarters covered but I am happy to report that my life did not become three-quarters covered with either degradation or licentiousness as a result.
I remember bitter debates (all right, they were really good-natured discussions but bitter debates sounds more dramatic) at my church about whether Jesus had long hair (he did) and just what it meant for a woman’s hair to be her glory and for it to be shameful for a man to have long hair and, in a related vein, just how long did a woman’s hair have to be for it to be glorious and just how long did a man’s hair have to be to be shameful?
As I was preparing to leave home for college among my father’s parting words to me were these: “Don’t let yourself go.” But, I thought, I couldn’t leave for college if I didn’t let myself go; then I realized that he meant that he didn’t want me to let my appearance go, which surely meant at least in part that I wasn’t supposed to let my hair get long.
Somewhere between my junior and senior years I let myself go; at least, my hair got pretty long. When I went a considerable time between haircuts, which I often did in those days, my hair also grew very, very thick—think biblical Absalom, whose annual haircut produced several pounds of hair. How thick were my locks? Well, when I washed my hair I would sit down to blow dry it because the task took so long.
Daddy never said a word about my long hair. One day during my senior year I decided to get most of my hair cut off. When I went home Daddy didn’t say a word about that, either. Parents are so blamed confusing.
Even when it was short my hair was thick. It was abundant. It was luxurious. It was mine.
I have always had a high forehead but over the years my hairline has receded; I also have an encroaching bald spot on the crown of my head. The other day I looked at a few minutes of the video of our morning worship service in order to analyze my sermon but I found myself instead analyzing my hair, which wasn’t all bad, since it distracted me from studying my waistline. I didn’t like what I saw.
So today I went to a beautician who is a member of our church and asked her for help. Now, what hair I have is real, real short. It’s a concession to reality and I’m ok with it.
You know, sometimes life comes full circle.
My next move will be a buzz cut.
Mama and Daddy would be so proud.
Gimme a head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me it down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair.
“Gimme a head with hair.” Oh yeah.
I remember my hair.
When I was little my folks kept my hair really, really short—it was basically a buzz cut. As I got older and nerdier my parents arranged with my barber Mr. Spears to keep me in a hair style that befitted said nerdiness.
But I wanted long hair, by which I meant hair that came over my ears a little bit. My mother was adamantly opposed to such a development although I really don’t know why; I suppose she thought such shagginess would be the first step down the short road to utter degradation and unbridled licentiousness. I eventually did manage to allow my hair to creep over my ears bit by bit so that by the time I was fourteen they were about three-quarters covered but I am happy to report that my life did not become three-quarters covered with either degradation or licentiousness as a result.
I remember bitter debates (all right, they were really good-natured discussions but bitter debates sounds more dramatic) at my church about whether Jesus had long hair (he did) and just what it meant for a woman’s hair to be her glory and for it to be shameful for a man to have long hair and, in a related vein, just how long did a woman’s hair have to be for it to be glorious and just how long did a man’s hair have to be to be shameful?
As I was preparing to leave home for college among my father’s parting words to me were these: “Don’t let yourself go.” But, I thought, I couldn’t leave for college if I didn’t let myself go; then I realized that he meant that he didn’t want me to let my appearance go, which surely meant at least in part that I wasn’t supposed to let my hair get long.
Somewhere between my junior and senior years I let myself go; at least, my hair got pretty long. When I went a considerable time between haircuts, which I often did in those days, my hair also grew very, very thick—think biblical Absalom, whose annual haircut produced several pounds of hair. How thick were my locks? Well, when I washed my hair I would sit down to blow dry it because the task took so long.
Daddy never said a word about my long hair. One day during my senior year I decided to get most of my hair cut off. When I went home Daddy didn’t say a word about that, either. Parents are so blamed confusing.
Even when it was short my hair was thick. It was abundant. It was luxurious. It was mine.
I have always had a high forehead but over the years my hairline has receded; I also have an encroaching bald spot on the crown of my head. The other day I looked at a few minutes of the video of our morning worship service in order to analyze my sermon but I found myself instead analyzing my hair, which wasn’t all bad, since it distracted me from studying my waistline. I didn’t like what I saw.
So today I went to a beautician who is a member of our church and asked her for help. Now, what hair I have is real, real short. It’s a concession to reality and I’m ok with it.
You know, sometimes life comes full circle.
My next move will be a buzz cut.
Mama and Daddy would be so proud.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
And I'm One of Them
There is perhaps no better proof for the existence of God than the way year after year he survives the way his professional friends promote him. (Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark, p. 6).
And Amen.
And Amen.
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