Prayer as a way of life?

Years ago I saw a cartoon... one of those "church chuckles" things.  It showed a pastor in his study at church, kneeling by a sofa, obviously in prayer.  The church secretary walks in, sees the pastor, and says, "Oh, good.  You're not busy."

There are times for me that praying comes as naturally as my breathing... and that's my goal.  There are other times - okay, that's most of the time! - when prayer is not the first, natural, automatic, primary, consistent part of how I spend my day.  St. Paul tells us to "pray always."  I'm sure he doesn't mean that we spend every moment with our eyes closed, head bowed, and hands clasped.  After all, that's sure not how HE spent his days!  What I believe he meant is that we live every moment in communion with God... in contact... in relationship... conscious of the Lord's presence within us, around us, and within others.  And that, after all, is the essence of what prayer is and does, don't you think?

During Lent one year in the last congregation I served as pastor, we decided to offer a service of Morning Prayer every day at 9:00 a.m. in the Chapel at the church.  A handful of people came most days during Lent.  When Lent was over, they asked, "Do we have to stop now?"  I was stunned... ecstatically so!  I don't think I ever had someone come up to me and ask to keep praying together!  So, we decided to keep it going.  Now, after a few months, it generally was only one ruling elder who would meet me in the Chapel at 9:00 a.m. for Morning Prayer, but we did that for several years.  I miss that time.  I miss having someone to pray with.  More than that, though, I miss the spiritual discipline of being accountable to someone else for at least one time each day when I spend moments in prayer, silence, and Scripture reading.  I want to find that structure again.

How about you?  How is prayer for you?  Do you have someone with whom you pray?  Do you have a set time or structure or format for prayer, for silence, for meditation, for devotional reading?

I think we all want to feel centered in our lives:  anchored, solid, focused, balanced, at peace.  I believe we all want to live into that reality about which St. Paul wrote:

"Don't be anxious about anything; rather bring up all of your requests to God in your prayers and petitions, along with giving thanks.  Then the peace of God that exceeds all understanding will keep your hearts and minds safe in Christ Jesus."  (Philippians 4:6-7, Common English Bible)

Maybe a group of folks in our Presbytery would like to begin meeting regularly to pray together.  Maybe such a group or groups already does that!  I trust you'll join me in wanting to find some folks with whom to engage in the practices of the spiritual life.  And in the meantime, keep praying; you, me, our churches, our communities, our world all need it!

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Ordinary Time

I have a deep and abiding appreciation for the liturgical calendar of the Church.  It provides a framework and rhythm for remembering... for remembering God's redeeming and intervening work in human lives and history, for remembering the power and wonder of the Holy Spirit, for remembering to pause and reflect and confess.  And so Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, the Baptism of the Lord, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, and Pentecost provide that ongoing rhythm of faith and life, of worship and prayer within the community of the Church.

But here we are today.  It's just after the first of the Sundays in "Ordinary Time."  For those of you not as familiar with the liturgical year, there are two Ordinary Times during the year:  between the Baptism of the Lord and Ash Wednesday, and between Pentecost and Advent.  Just as our Book of Confessions has the Shorter Catechism and the Larger Catechism, ... (and can anyone tell me why it's "shorter" and "larger," and not "shorter" and "longer," or "smaller" and "larger"?  Inquiring minds want to know!) ... so there is a shorter and longer duration of Ordinary Time every year.  The challenge, at least for me, is that these weeks are so, well, "ordinary."  There's not the anticipation of Advent, the wonder of Christmas, the solemnity of Lent, the joy of Easter, or the celebration of Pentecost.  It's all just "ordinary."

Yet isn't this, too, part of the beauty and wisdom of the liturgical calendar?  These two seasons of the year remind us that God comes to us where we live most all the time - in the routines of life that is ordinary.  To be sure, there are times of joy and celebration and wonder in our lives, just as there are times of pain and grief and even despair.  But most of life for us is lived neither in the heights nor in the depths.  Rather, most of life is, yes, ordinary.

God is with us in the "ordinariness" of life, too.  God is with us when things just go on and on each day.  God is with us when life feels boring.  God is with us in the mundane routines of our lives.  God is still Immanuel.  Christ still suffered with us and for us, and then rose in power for us.  The Spirit still fills us with power and gifts for ministry and witness.

All in the "ordinary" times of our lives.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Martin Luther King, Jr.

I have two older sisters... like 10 and 13 years older. Although we come from the same birth family, our formative years were spent in societies in the U.S. that were very different.  My sisters were growing up primarily in the 50's; I was growing up primarily in the 60's.  Those were VERY different years in our nation!  It probably should be no surprise, therefore, to hear that my sisters and I have very different political views.  Every now and then, one of them will ask me, "How is it that you turned out so different from us?"  I just smile and say, "The 60's.  Remember?"  Whereas their formative years were shaped by U.S. strength and prosperity in the world, mine were shaped by assassinations, race riots, and Vietnam.

The writings, speeches, and sermons of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. long have had profound impact on my life and my worldview.  The ties that I feel to him probably were made stronger by the fact that he was assassinated on my 17^th birthday:  April 4, 1968.

I remember reading his August 1963 Letter from Birmingham Jail to the pastoral leaders in that community.  It persuasively - at least to me! - laid out his defense for coming to Birmingham to participate in the demonstrations that were taking place.  More than that, though, Dr. King laid out his eloquently and passionately worded belief that "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."  He accurately pointed out to his ministerial brothers (they were all men at that time, of course), that "History is the long and tragic story of the fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily."

How do we honor such a profound legacy as the one Dr. King left to us?  Surely setting aside one day is something, albeit minimal.  And the inspired idea of making King's birthday holiday into a National Day of Service is a huge step in the right direction.  Ultimately, of course, it comes down to each of us... as well as to all of us.  What kinds of things are we willing to do to stand for peace and justice?  How will others know of our strong Reformed heritage of working for societal good and for the welfare of those most helpless and in need?  How do we demonstrate our embrace of all people as children of God, those for whom Christ lived and died?

Profound questions, yes?  And profound questions always call for definitive, intentional, demonstrative, and profound answers.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Epiphany

Today, January 6, is Epiphany.  In Church tradition, this is the day in which we remember the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child.  It is the day we remember that a light in the sky led them to the Light of the World.  Coming from a non-Jewish tradition, they recognized the Messiah - the Chosen One - who had come into the world.

To be honest, Epiphany wasn't on my radar as I was growing up.  I might have heard the word before I got to seminary, but I can't swear to that.  Over the years, however, this holiday has become increasingly significant for me and for my family.  First, this is the day we traditionally take down our Christmas tree.  Oh, I know that's counter-cultural to leave it up this long, but we always have tried to observe and honor the fact that Christmas for the Church really is a 12-day celebration.  So, now that Christmas is officially over, our tree comes down.  (In fact, my wife,

Caroline, is packing up the ornaments as I finish writing this!  Thankfully, she really does love doing that.  God bless her; I love that woman!)  Second, we closed the Christmas holiday season with a Twelfth Night Party at our home last night.  Family, friends, and neighbors graciously responded to the invitation to spend part of an evening together, sharing good food and even better company with each other.  Epiphany is the marker for the 12th night, or Epiphany Eve if you will.

Epiphany often gets me thinking about what gifts I bring to Christ... where and how I recognize his presence in the world and in my life... or where and how I miss seeing the light that he brings to me and to others.

Long ago I bookmarked a webpage that offers a daily devotional from the Christian community in Iona, off the coast of Scotland.  Recently, this was in the day's offering for reflection and prayer:

"Lord of the excluded, open my ears to those I would prefer not to hear;

open my life to those I would prefer not to know;

open my heart to those I would prefer not to love;

and so open my eyes to see where I exclude you."

As I begin this new year, my prayer is that I may be ever more attentive to the presence of Jesus... lest I somehow exclude him.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

In the flesh

Two years ago I missed Advent completely.  I had serious complications following a surgical procedure early that November, and I was out of commission for two months. There is so much I learned during that time - about grace, about receiving pastoral care from the congregation I served as pastor, about humility, about human frailty, about vulnerability, and so much more!

During my recuperation during those weeks, several passages of Scripture became important to me... along with many prayers that came from a number of different sources.  One verse, however, struck me in a more profound way than it ever had before.  It was a verse that I had read countless times before.  It was a verse that I had read in Christmas Eve worship services for years and years.  It's not that it wasn't meaningful before this time, but it struck a chord deeper within me than ever before.

The verse reminded me to what extreme God was willing to go to love me.  The verse reminded me that God in Christ - Immanuel - truly was, as the earliest Church Councils affirmed, not only fully divine, but also fully human.  Perhaps I simply had taken Jesus' humanity for granted.  But during those weeks, as I prayed and meditated during my physical rehab and exercises, the fact that Jesus was human - had a body just like mine, experienced joy and sorrow just like me, felt elation and pain just like me - touched my soul and gave me hope.

The verse?  It's the one we know by heart... which you'll hear or read or (I hope) think about tomorrow sometime:  "And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us."  May Jesus, born of Mary, fill your heart, your mind, and your body this day... all days.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

My baptism anniversary

I don't remember the Rev. Dr. Arthur W. Hoffman, but I grew up hearing about him.  He was "the pastor" of my home church - First Pres. in Joliet, Illinois.  He'd been gone for a few years before I remember anything about that church, but his impact was lasting.  The Fellowship Hall, in fact, was renamed "Hoffman Hall" in his honor after he left.

Dr. Hoffman had an impact on my life, however.  Well, to be more precise, he was a vehicle through which I was a recipient of God's grace.  You see, on this date, December 16, he stood in front of the congregation during the worship service, put water on my head, and uttered those ancient, powerful, sacramental words:  "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."  My parents were asked some questions that morning.  The congregation was asked some questions as well.  He didn't ask me one thing.  At least, I don't suppose he did, but as I was only a little over 8 months old, I don't remember a thing about it.  But I remember that it happened.  And I remember each year on this date that it happened way back then.

No, he didn't ask me one thing.  Didn't ask if I wanted to be baptized.  Didn't  ask if I understood the magnitude of what was being undertaken.  Didn't ask if I believed in Jesus, or if I believed in anything.  But isn't that how it really becomes the powerful sign that baptism is?  We Presbyterian and Reformed folk have a different understanding than many other Christian traditions about baptism.  We always have believed that baptism is more about what God says to us than about anything we might say to God.  And God says, "Even before you know how to respond, I have come to you... to claim you as My own... to bless you with My love... to fill you with My grace."

On that December 16 morning long ago a sign was given.  What had been true from my earliest moments of existence was given voice that morning.  I was nothing less than a child of God, a member of the Covenant community, a creature so dearly loved by his Creator.

Again, I knew nothing of that then.  I probably cried... which, when I think of it, is not a bad response to such overwhelming evidence of love and grace.  Okay,I probably cried because I was hungry, or tired, or needed changing.  But I like to imagine that somewhere deep inside, something resonated within my tiny being. But even if nothing registered with me then, it does now.  The Child in the manger who was God's sign to the whole world, continues to extend love and grace, acceptance and blessing, to all of us as God's beloved children.

And today I remember that.  And I give thanks.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Protestants and Mary

I'm old enough to remember the incredible impact that the Second Vatican Council had in the early- to mid-1960's.  Vatican II radically shifted many things for our Roman Catholic sisters and brothers, not the least of which was that worship services were held in the language of the people of each congregation around the world, not just in Latin.

Vatican II also changed things for us Protestants as well.  The liturgical reforms within the Roman Church spilled over and onto us.  While priests were learning the importance of preaching in worship, we were learning the importance of the Sacraments.  Before Vatican II, most Presbyterian congregations celebrated Communion four times a year, whether we needed it or not!  Now, most all of us celebrate Communion at least monthly, sometimes more often.

With a new openness in dialogue that began with Vatican II, we started to be open to considering many things in new ways... ways which we might have previously only dared to whisper disdainfully that something was "Catholic."

However, one obvious difference remains between us, I believe... and that is the role of Mary.  I feel that, whereas some of our Roman sisters and brothers go overboard in their devotion to Mary, we Protestants threw her out with so many other things in the "bathwater" of the Reformation.  I believe we've done that to our detriment.  To be sure, we drag Mary out of the closet during Advent.  After all, it's hard to talk about the birth of Jesus without talking about His mother!  But as soon as Christmas Eve is over, Mary goes back in the box with the crèche, the animals, the shepherds, and the Wise Men.

I believe that our Orthodox Christian sisters and brothers have a wonderful example for us that can be helpful and instructive.  Rather than refer to St. Mary with the titles most used by our Roman Catholic sisters and brothers - titles such as the Mother of Jesus, or the Mother of God, or the Blessed Virgin Mary – Orthodox Christians most often refer to Mary using the Greek word, Theotokos. Theotokos literally means "God-bearer," or the one who brings God to the world.  That, it seems to me, is something that we could use to acknowledge a proper and a biblical view of Mary. I find that term helpful.  More than that, though, I find that term instructive. As we Christians are to learn from one another, we can properly learn something about how we can follow in God's ways by learning how Mary served God fully, bravely, and humbly.  She bore Christ to the world... gave of herself, and brought Christ to the world.

We, too, are invited, and I believed called, by God to bring Christ to the world:  to a world in need of light... to a world in need of love... to a world in need of hope... to a world in need of justice... to a world in need of peace.  And we can learn a bit about how to do that by paying some attention to Mary.

Blessings and peace,

Steve