Plain and Beautiful

I was cleaning up after Christmas Eve communion.  The mess was pretty substantial.  But communion mess doesn't bother me.  I think about communion and remember the mess.  That first time in a room with 12 disciples was pretty messy.  It was presented as a different covenant ... a new promise sealed by Jesus' blood.  In fact, it is what "New Testament" means.  It was framed by great passion from Jesus, great confusion by the disciples, and great betrayal by Judas.  Messy!

We are pretty messy too!  While some of us think highly of ourselves, we, as a group, are tarnished, dirty, and (the old song says) poor and needy.  We are carrying the dirt and dust of the world. And though some of us look shiny and pristine, down deep we are all as plain as a ball of clay.  Messy!

It is only appropriate.  The story of Jesus is messy too.  He walked through the dust and dirt of Israel and surrounding areas.  He encountered filthy and demon-possessed people.  He had a run-in with pig farmers.  He ate with sinners and tax collectors.  He met a Pharisee in the dark of night to answer questions, and he talked one of those tax collectors down out of a tree.  He was beaten, jailed, schlepped from one palace to another, and then asked to carry His own cross up a hill.  Messy!

That is one reason why I love our time of communion.  It reminds us of our messiness and the messiness God (in Jesus) endured for our salvation.  One song says it like this ... "It is true we are as fallen as an angel, but you and me, we're also holy as a prayer."  I think God likes it that way.  And, in our communion this Sunday, we will gather with messy people who are bound together by plain wood and simple nails, put together in the shape of a cross.  It was the messiest of deaths.  As two very common substances come together to become a cruel cross, I am reminded of the good and bad uses of plain things.  Some become cruel.  Some become beautiful.  Maybe the choice is ours, as we either become haughty, demanding, and proud, or obedient, submissive, and moldable.  Isaiah pondered this (45:9) when he said, "Does the clay tell the potter, "What are you making?"  The implied question is, do we (the plain, messy ones) tell God (the one we call Lord) what to do and how to do it?

So I will begin this year with an attitude that acknowledges what I am ... a big old mess!  I wonder ... when we meet with our Church Council at NOON today, will we, collectively, have that attitude?  Will we, as leaders here at Abbeville Methodist, see ourselves as plain wood and nails, usable as building materials for something very good?  In the song "Wood and Nails," Audrey Assad ponders the uses of wood and nails.  Will they build little crosses that crucify Christ again?  Will they build coffins, becoming the whitewashed tombs of Scripture?  Or ... in the hands of the great carpenter, will they/be be used to build an unshakable kingdom that will become a blessing to all people?  That would be beautiful, wouldn't it?  We have the capacity to allow either of these 3 options.  What will our choice be?   

What to Keep

A few years back we had a crisis at Abbeville Methodist.  We were setting up for Christmas, with the usual anxiety and chaos.  There are always things that are hard to find.  But we were missing one major thing.  Our long-time baby Jesus was nowhere to be found.  We looked and looked.  Finally, someone found him in one of the upstairs rooms, and all was well.

But I wonder.  As we take down all of the Christmas trappings ... trees, wreaths, candles, nativity scenes ... do we ever throw out the most important thing?  Do we throw baby Jesus out, while carefully storing away the things we use to "dress up" the church?

The Scriptures tell a story about Jesus as a boy.  The story in Luke 2:41-52 tells a Biblical "Home Alone" story in which Jesus is left behind at the Temple.  Our family is particularly connected to this story because we (in Mobile) once left Christopher (my son) at church (I'll unpack that story on Sunday).  Stuff like that happens, and the story from Luke makes me feel less like a bad parent.  But this story reminds us that we must all be attentive to remember the most important thing ... Jesus.

We are entering a new year.  We will take down the Christmas decorations (eventually).  We will put the Cantata books in the file till we bring them out another year.  We will find a new section of hymns in the hymnal, appropriate to either Epiphany, Lent, or Easter.  The Christian year will move on.  But let's remember the baby Jesus that wrapped humanity around Himself, so He could bring us to God's Kingdom, both on earth and in heaven.  If the New Year is about, for, and with Jesus, the year will be good for the Kingdom and glorifying to God.  Don't throw out the baby!  AMEN

Embrace

Last week we asked if we view the manger scene as a "drive-by" or a place we would like to visit.  This week I am asking, "Do you want to embrace the child?"

When I began ministry in 1997, I was a little intimidated at some of the expectations of serving as a pastor.  Funerals, weddings, prayers in the hospital ... it all was just so big!  And I was so small!  But one thing was particularly intimidating ... holding a newborn child.  It was one thing to hold my own children.  Stephanie and Christopher were no less fragile, but they were MY children.  But, when someone hands you a little baby, just into the world, soft and puffy ... WOW!

Sunday, I want to place you in an intimidating and very reverent situation.  When Jesus came into the world (when He moved into the neighborhood), He didn't come as a strapping young man, or as a majestic king.  Jesus came as a newborn infant.  He was small, fragile and very much like those little babies that intimidated me when I was new in ministry.  What I want you to do on Sunday is embrace that little baby.  Hold Him. Take Him in.  Wrap your arms around Him.  And think ... this child is for you and me.  Are you open, willing, and eager to embrace Him?  Or, are you stand-offish, reluctant, and fearful?  "Is there room in your heart ... is there room in your heart ... is there room in your heart ... for God to write His story ... you can come as you are ... but it may set you apart ... is there room in your heart ... for God to write His story?"

Come Sunday, and embrace the child in the manger.  You won't break Him, but if you are open and willing, He will break, reshape and renew you.  Jesus wants you in His story!  AMEN

Encounter

I was reminded, in a Wake Up Call devotional, that we are experts at missing things because we are focused on the wrong things.  We miss miracles, wonders, beauty, sacred moments, and glory, all because our faith is based on what we get instead of who He is.  We miss an encounter with God because we settle for drive-by vs intimate encounters.  JD Walt quotes Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Earth is crammed with heaven, and every common bush is afire with God, but only he who sees, takes off his shoes ... the rest sit round it and pluck blackberries."  Browning is so on target here!  We go TO church to get ... entertained, comforted, amused, fill in your own blank.  All the while, God calls us to encounter Him ... His glory, His grace, His peace, His beauty, His voice.  And this only happens in those thin places where we are willing to enter into His place.

I have to admit ... I let it happen to me this morning.  During our Christmas Cantata, I spent time with God, mouthing the lyrics, watching the children, thinking about the Scriptures, and seeing Mary, Joseph, angels, shepherds, and wise men (and women), all focused on the manger.  It was an encounter with God, and I felt myself take off my shoes for awhile, and just be a child of God.  Our Sanctuary was "filled with God and heaven."  Then, my mind drifted to a pressing duty.  The benediction and closing.  Would I forget to mention someone?  Would I say the right things, so everyone felt invited to the meal?  Maybe these concerns seem small, even inconsequential to you ... but I know our culture is all into being mentioned, being stroked, and getting attention.  We are taught a lot about picking blackberries, and not so much about taking our shoes off and taking in a God that wants to fill us with His Spirit, His Presence and His Son (that "God With Us" thing).

Here's the thing: My encounter was derailed by my inability to see and talk about heaven all around me, all because I wanted to be everything to everybody except God.  So, I am asking your forgiveness for failing to tell you about the little piece of heaven I saw.  And, I am asking you to take a break from picking blackberries and reflect on the beauty of God's gift to us today.  See the light in the eyes of little girls dressed as angels.  Hear the voices of the choir, the director, and the musicians, as they laid it all out for God.  Think about the over 70 people who were able to see the service online.  Close your eyes and hear the narrator's voice quiver, because those Scriptures meant something to her.  Reflect upon the reverence of the wise men, as they laid down gifts at the manger.  Give yourself permission to imagine Mary and Joseph as all of this was a complete wonder to them.  Ponder how dirty, lowlife shepherds received the greatest gift and honor of their lives.  And think about the words of a song we will sing this coming week ... "Noel, Noel, Come and see what God has done."  And, remember, blackberries aren't in season, but heaven is!

Bells

You might not believe it, but there is actually a "theology" of church bells.  Church bells, because of their loud peals and purity of tone, are thought to 1) drive away evil spirits, 2) expel negative thoughts/attitudes, 3) call people to worship, and 4) announce the "sending" of the saints (this is one way they function at AMC as little girls and boys ring them after service on Sunday).  By any standard, our bells are beautiful and compelling.

Wednesday, our handbell choir will serve at our Community Tree Lighting, and all of the above traditions will be at play.  I expect the bells will ring with purity through the cold evening air.  I hope everyone gathers at this annual "ringing in" the Christmas season!

There is another very American story about bells.  The song, "I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day," was written by the great American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  Longfellow's life was marked by several events that shaped the song and offer hope, even to those of us who have lost much.  His wife, the love of his life, was sealing envelopes, in 1861, when the flame ignited her clothing, and she was burned to death.  In 1863, Charley, his son, unknown to Longfellow, joined the Union Army.  Later that year, Charley was wounded in battle.  So Longfellow, with his son barely recovering from the wound, was faced with a Christmas nursing his son back to health, and caring for the 5 other children. On Christmas Day, 1863, he sat down, overwhelmed by war, responsibility, and loss, and did what poets do.  He wrote.  Here are some of those words: 

I heard the bells on Christmas Day, their old familiar carols play. And mild and sweet their songs repeat, of peace on earth, good will to men

And in despair I bowed my head. There is no peace on earth I said.  For hate is strong and mocks the song, of peace on earth good will to men.

Then rang the bells more loud and deep.  God is not dead, nor does he sleep.  The wrong shall fail, the right prevail.  With peace on earth good will to men.

Then ringing, singing on its way, the world revolved from night to day.  A voice a chime, a chant sublime, of peace on earth good will to men.

These words are as true today as they were then.  And, for Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, those bells did all of those things written above.  They drove out evil, expelled negativity, called him into worship, and then sent him out to serve God.  He served well, as we share his song, his hope, and his longing for "peace on earth, good will to men." AMEN