"Wisdom........................."

Pre-school hours here. Beth is still in bed and today’s lunch just needs to be transferred from the refrigerator to the little green thermal container that always goes with me. I watched a few minutes of television reporting on the devastation created thus far by this monster storm attacking the East Coast, one entire community in New York destroyed by a huge fire somehow started in the middle of all else. Facebook is full of pictures showing flooding and gigantic waves hitting the shoreline. If it wasn’t photo-shopped, one actually was taken of a fairly large shark swimming in the front yard of a New Jersey home. Sitting here in northern Kentucky experiencing discomfort only from a bit of lower temperatures, one holds shock and sympathy for those catching the brunt of all that fury, realizing that help is a material commodity, words accomplishing nothing unless they flow from the heart. That’s true, as far as I’m concerned, no matter the outreach, no matter the ministry. Indeed, I ask myself why it is that so many within the Christian community, when a brother or a sister is going through a battle, show up like that bunch who came to Job, utilizing some verse of Scripture as if it were a rebuke. A young friend of mine currently struggling and asking questions about many things, in posting his confusion on Facebook, almost immediately got lambasted for his lack of faith, Matthew 17:20 solving all things; and, while I realize the offender was probably not operating out of an intent to wound, yet it seems to me the church ought to teach its members better. Doctrinal dysfunction kills. The Holy Ghost heals and restores……

"Stabilization......................"

My niece came to the early morning service yesterday, enjoying it enough to note she would be back next week. I sat there thinking through most of it that, other than the sermon being perhaps a little more emotionally charged, the hour “program” was about the same as the one she left to visit with us. Last night I returned only to hear my grandson sing with his classmates before the congregation, no interest otherwise, knowing beforehand that Ken Hamm was the guest speaker. Entrepreneur of the Creation Museum just a few miles west of here, he’s now accepting donations to help build an amusement park just south of us, one centered around a replication of Noah’s Ark. Seems to me Jim Bakker tried something similar not all that long ago; but, then, this old man often wonders if the years haven’t turned him into that bull frog of whom the pastor speaks every so often. One of Richard Rohr’s statements highlighted by me in “Everything Belongs” suggests that “God comes to us disguised as life”. That speaks to me, especially when he adds “Your life is not about you. It is a part of a much larger stream.” He defines that latter as the Creator and notes that faith has “no need to push the river” because it “trusts the flow”, there being an inner assurance of its divine identity. For me, it is our reconnection to such waters that define our having a “life” rather than merely knowing an existence; and, at the same time, I find it to be quite evident that our having gained the well doesn’t equate to us swimming in its depths on a 24/7 basis. Facing each day with what it brings to us is still "part of the package”. People remain people. Church is yet church. In truth, a better definition for “sanctified”, instead of our being “set apart”, might well be “submerged”, since regular immersions in Him are required if we are to have any hope at all of “sorting out the flesh”. It all start with the guy in the mirror……

"Boooo!..................."

Without trying to sound in the least big “Halloweenish”, the old-time holiness saints were probably turning over in their graves Saturday evening. With the gym occupying one of those huge inflated slides where kids climb the one side before rapidly descending down the other, hot soup and sandwiches being sold from the small cafeteria located there, and gospel music loud enough to be heard a half-mile in any direction permeating the whole area, about forty families were positioned in the rear parking lot for “trunk or treating”. Indeed, it might have been the only place on the property where there was yet any room for an automobile! I’m inclined to think that as many people, or maybe even more, showed up for this event as for any worship service we’ve ever held. The costumes this year seemed less “gruesome” for whatever reason. My own visit was short-lived, purposed to get two or three pictures of the youngest grandchildren; but there was nobody running around with a meat-cleaver stuck in his head, no ghoulish masks of any kind, not even a witch that this old man noticed. Captain Hook and a pirate or two, a few princesses, some assorted television cartoon characters, and a rather large Buzz Lightyear. I’m pretty sure, though, that his wife talked him into that portrayal. In truth, the event was nothing more than a different form of fellowship, folks gathering with other folks in giving the little ones a safe environment for such fun and, at the same time, providing opportunity for others in the community to get to know us. Is it “evangelizing”? Not in the sense of sharing Christ in a doctrinal message; but most certainly another way to allow Christ “in” me to come forth. In fact, sometimes coming out of the sanctuary and abandoning the pew is the best way to see what we look like withOUT the “costume”, who we are “behind the mask”. Ouch! That might have just hit me......

"I Loooove Deeese Job!............"

Wednesday afternoon I walked to my car with both hands scratched and bloody, having just walked one of our female students to her bus. No emotions involved on her part. She simply doesn’t like me or anyone else holding her in any manner as we go, even though she will not make the journey on her own. Thursday morning a pair of leather gloves in my hip pocket went in with me to cure that problem; but my day started with two of our boys, the three of us seated in a small room, me trying to feed them their daily dose of Math. One would taunt the other and then the second fellow would scream. The first guy would begin to blubber and boohoo; the anger across the table only increased. We accomplished very little. Why would a seventy-one year old man want this job when he could be sleeping late, golfing with his friends, or free to simply go wherever whenever he and his wife took a notion to getaway? I could tell you it keeps me young. Every day, however, my body serves notice that such is not the case. My spirit, while hopefully having gained a little wisdom along the way, is an eternal entity and not affected otherwise by the aging process, my soul therefore probably what motivates the old man. It just enjoys working with these kids. With some, there isn’t always an immediate connection; but you “bond” as you go. If my health holds out and they’ll have me back, I think I’d like to try at least one more cycle. We’ll see. It is, after all, all in His hands……

"Evolution............................."

When I first stepped into “old-time holiness”, our congregation at most services was probably a little less than a couple hundred people. We followed no particular program, opening up with worship and singing until whatever time it became apparent that the Spirit thought it right to move elsewhere; and, in truth, that might take thirty minutes or be as long as three hours. Sermons were brought forth only as He directed and, while usually delivered by the pastor, testimonies were frequent, the “anointing” perhaps falling just as well on someone seated in the pews. We believed in the Holy Ghost owning the sanctuary and gave freedom for Him to move as He wished. If humanity got into the proceedings, people knew the difference and, one way or another, things seemed to take care of themselves. The altar was always open, the final invitation serious, but not necessarily the climax of any gathering. Announcements were few; we received an offering, of course; and somewhere in the mixture almost certainly we would take prayer requests. An appointed individual would step behind the pulpit to ask for any concerns to be made known. While it was serious business, some elements of the task could almost be humorous, one woman, in particular, that I recall, usually taking so long to vividly describe details that, by the time she finished you weren’t sure if it was her sister, her cousin, or her aunt who was either suffering with some medical condition or just having problems with her husband! Even so, we loved her; and nothing was dismissed when, as a body, not just a person, we took all unto Christ. I don’t recall a lot of “name it and claim it”. I don’t remember needing some celebrity with the “gift of healing”. We just believed in reaching through the veil and touching the hem of His garment, each in our own personal space, all of us knowing that Calvary had bought us a “connection”, not “authority” to raise the dead by our own volition…….

"Hi, Ho, Hi, Ho...................".

Richard Rohr, in “Everything Belongs”, speaks of religion, as a whole, having “lost sight” of Jesus’ message and, in the process, “not creating seekers or searchers, humble people who trust that God is always beyond them, but people who think they have God in their pockets, people with quick, easy, glib answers”. I agree, especially when he goes on to assert that the “great Mystery will lead us into paradox, into darkness, and into journeys that never cease”, suggesting as well that this is what prayer is all about. In mentally tossing it all around on my way to school Monday morning, though, I stumbled over a Pentecostal “truism”. Indeed, how many sermons have been preached to me referencing the idea that we, as believers, are “in the world, but not of the world”? Turns out, in writing this, that there IS no such verse in the Bible, King James or otherwise, a couple that ring close, but nothing exactly the same. Maybe that’s why this old man felt no guilt when, in having it pass through my mind, what immediately followed was an admission of my being “in the Church, but not of the Church”, as well. If that evokes disdain from some, so be it; but I find the ecclesiastical community, as a whole, a mixed bag of theology, innocent perhaps in its individual stumbles down the road, guilty, however, of its humanity being yet very much alive in the attempt, its biggest sin being an unwillingness to acknowledge that last statement. Sit me in the mess, for sure, but mark me just another pilgrim with a hunger to hear His voice and a spirit trying my best to follow Him through the veil. Leave me out of the nonsense. I want no more than His grace, His rod and staff. It was reality that I came up off the floor with forty years ago in my living room, an assurance bigger than any understanding I had of the event, a “hook in my belly” that yet holds me secure. He, alone, will I follow……

"Mirrored Images....................."

It’s yet warm enough that we have thus far not utilized the furnace at all, three electric heaters proving sufficient for our needs. Overnight, however, while a quilt and body heat, alone, prevents feeling the overall chill (we don’t run the heaters while we sleep), even though she sleeps straight through, normally I’m up around six and headed for the living-room recliner, ready to once again bring the temperature up a bit. On Saturday mornings, with no reason to prepare for another day at school, sitting there beside the imaginary flames equates to reading, praying, and, often, nodding off for a half hour or so. Today was no exception, the overall scenario involving my thoughts being out there somewhere, exploring how the Old Testament comes across to this old man. While we are certainly given numerous characters who frequently experience the reality of God, yet most of the Israelites, throughout Scripture, are content to “worship from afar”, allowing the Levites to burn the sacrifice, preferring the occasional prophet to make the connection, coming into the presence of the Almighty being a scary proposition. Then again, if we are but willing to admit it, it seems to me that much of the Church is no different today. Most of us are comfortable with “religion”, with ritual and routine, with “faith” as we have manufactured it for ourselves. I offer that as descriptive of Christianity as a whole, of crystal cathedrals, of football stadiums filled with “believers”, and of much that passes today for Pentecostal Full Gospel. No; I do not claim, as Elijah, to be the one and only who has it all figured out, my track record in this, if diagrammed, looking like an intoxicated sot trying walk a straight path. What I am saying is: we NEED revival. Not three more meetings where some visiting pastor serves up his version of the Word after four songs, announcements and an offering. We need to know Him, not merely resurrected from the dead, but alive in “me” and in our midst! To each his own manifestation. We remain individuals. Nonetheless, if the umbilical cord is neglected and the well doesn’t receive fresh flow, the water, sooner or later, begins to stink……