We Accept This Sacred Trust

   Another prayer shawl, made with loving hands by gifted persons in the Epworth community, waits in my office to be picked up and delivered. They go to persons celebrating and those mourning. They go to those who are recovering from surgeries or welcoming babies or in need of the simple reminder that people care and that God's love overcomes whatever life throws at us.
   In between their creation and their use, the prayer shawls receive a word of prayer. Every one that has been delivered - each with a little tag that indicates it is from Epworth along with a prayer designed for the person receiving it - has been prayed over. But, I have to admit, I did not know exactly what words I'd use when I was first asked a couple of years ago to consecrate the first prayer shawls. I went to the United Methodist Book of Worship and did not find anything at first, until I stumbled upon a brief service called An Order for the Dedication of Church Furnishings and Memorials. Now the title of such words might deceive you as to their relevance, but listen to the liturgy:

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit I consecrate these prayer shawls to the glory of Almighty God and for service by this church. Let us pray: Most loving God, without you no words or works of ours have meaning. Accept the gifts of our hands as symbols of our devotion. Grant us your blessing, as we have consecrated these gifts to your glory, that they may be an enduring witness before all your people, and that our lives may be consecrated in your service;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

   There is a response that I don't always read that comes in the middle of this service. It says, "We accept this gift as a sacred trust and will guard and use it reverently." That line strikes me: these words are universal. These words could (and should) be applied to just about everything we do. These children in our classrooms, on our playgrounds, and in our hallways are a part of a scared trust that we have with their families, but also with God. The monies we receive on Sunday are a sacred trust. The buildings and classrooms we occupy are to be used for the glory of God in the best possible ways to shine the light of Jesus into the lives of God's children (of every age). None of this is ours. Everything is a gift and a sacred trust. Surely this is why Jesus gave such stern warning to those who would violate this sense of stewardship (see Matthew 18:1-7).
   I hold firmly to the belief that this sacred trust is not limited to our leaders or parents or direct participants of a class or program or shawl. We are all recipients of this sacred trust. This is what it means to be Epworth, to be Christian, to be Human. Grace and Peace, Scott

Happening Right Now On Your Pew

   We gather, sing, pray, and have the Word of God read and preached for our benefit. Then, when all of that is done, the offering comes up in our order of worship as one way we respond to God. For us, we literally offer our gifts back to God that his kingdom might come through our efforts. This is the historic order for Christian worship - though some churches arrange things differently. 

   This Sunday, I walked down during the Doxology to receive the plates - holding these acts of faith in what we can do together with God's help - and present them before the Altar. At the last moment, one more donation was passed over to the ushers from the first row. Afterwards, standing near the front as everyone started to sing the closing hymn, I saw the two young men, both serving as acolytes for only their second times, whisper something between themselves. The younger one leaned over to say, "Thank you." He was thanking the other for helping him get his offering included. 
   I was struck by how honest and humble such small gestures on both of their parts really were. For the one who was thankful for the aid, what a grown-up ability to offer appreciation. For the other who lent a hand, what a model for how we live in Christ.

   I think this is happening on every pew. We are all helping each other out.
   Watching these two young men makes me think, Julie and I should be saying "Thank you" for helping our offerings get to the altar. When you think about it, our contributions are made better with your help. Combined with yours, they go farther, help more, and are spread more broadly. Not only that, but people in every pew are helping to spend our contributions better than we could on our own. From serving in leadership and deciding where to spend as good stewards, to participating on the front line in missions that happen through our combined efforts, we are better together.
   Paul described the church this way in 1 Corinthians 12:

If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many members, yet one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you".... But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. 

   I think this is happening on every pew. We are all helping each other out. Our pews are filled with the common, the extraordinary, the loved, the struggling, the hopeful, the doubting. The truth is that we are each of these things over time. But, what we bring to the altar and God's efforts is made better because of each other. And for that, we should all say, "Thank you." 
   Out of the mouths of babes... Peace, Scott

What We Choose to Remember and Forget

  I cannot remember things the way I used to. I, also, do not remember things the way I used to. 
  How many of us used to keep dozens of phone numbers in our heads? Of course, phone numbers were shorter when I was growing up (only seven digits) and were even shorter before I was born. But, it is not just that numbers are longer. We don’t have to remember them now because devices, other than our brains, have been introduced to remember them for us, namely our phones or tablets or notebooks. The world is changing the way we remember things. 
  There does remain some things that many of us don’t have any trouble remembering. We can hold on to them for years, decades, a lifetime, even. It is in our nature to hold on to a record of those who have wronged us. Even when apologies have been exchanged, we struggle so very much to let go. We cannot blame new technology on this truth: we are not good at forgiving and letting go. 
  I ran across this little poem that my grandfather Carlton clipped and passed on to our family’s newest pastors for our own ministries of preaching and teaching in South Georgia Methodist churches. Truth be told, this one is helpful for my own life and not just what I preach to others! We need to forget some things and remember others. 
  I am very excited about our series of teaching that begins this weekend in worship, at both our 9:00 AM Blended and 11:00 Traditional services. It’s called “Forgiveness: Letting Go to Find Peace.” I have a feeling you need to be here. Grace and Peace, Scott

What Is Your Cold Water?

   I don't like jumping into cold water. I don't even like jumping into lukewarm water. A hundred people, already frolicking in the pool or lake or ocean, can tell me that the temperature is fine after you get in, but such truths means nothing to the voice inside that says otherwise about that initial shock to my skin.
   The other day I stood at the gate on the pontoon boat for upwards of five minutes. I really don't like jumping in cold water. The boys were playing a little distance away in the calm waters of Lake Oliver, but I stood on the boat trying to overcome some inner push that said, "Don't do it." Finally, someone asked what was I doing. My reply was simple, "I just have to jump in." I jumped in within a few seconds after the words left my mouth, but not before this bulletin article jumped into the lukewarm waters of my mind. 
   Matthew 14 tells of how the disciples, in a fishing boat on the Sea of Galilee, come upon Jesus walking on the water. They are frightened, but Peter boldly requests a chance to join Jesus on the water. Oh, how unlike Peter I am. Peter just steps out there. He sees what he wants and he goes for it. Now he soon gets all wet because of his lack of faith, and his singular focus will get him into trouble quite often. Peter is not perfect, but there is something to be said for the Peters who just jump in. 
   How many of us stand on the edge, with goodness and joy and, dare I say, the very blessings of God before us, but struggle to overcome the initial shock to our system that such faith and movement will bring? How many of us allow silly obstacles like mending fences, or forgiveness, or new circumstances, or being vulnerable, or even possibly failing, keep us from the good that might come? 
   To be honest, this goes far beyond cold water. It is the fear of not knowing. It is wanting to be able to control more than is possible. It is wanting to avoid the uncomfortable. Faith is different. Faith says regardless of what might come, it will be okay. 
   Will you jump in? What is stopping you?
   Grace and Peace, Scott

There’s No Place Like Home, By Frances Phillips

   I head back to Athens, Georgia in a little over a week. According to my dear friend, Scott Hagan, a land of heathens and sin awaits me. I happen to disagree, as would 92,746 of my closest friends that will fill Sanford Stadium on Saturdays, this semester. As I begin to pack and get ready to move into my new apartment, I reflect on this summer and all the amazing things that have happened here. I spent this past summer serving the church I love as the Children’s Ministry Intern. I have sewn crooked fair vests, jumped down bouncy slides, bowled a few strikes and danced “The Twist”. I have loved every minute of my busy summer here.
    I could have sewn, jumped, bowled or danced with anyone, but the people who surrounded me this summer have made these activities more enjoyable than I could have imagined. Excited and willing members who love each other and love their children fill Epworth. Epworth people are invested in the lives of each other and desire sincere connections even if it means supervising inflatables or missing part of a movie to divide popcorn and drinks among thirty children and adults. These selfless volunteers continued to amaze me every week. I have made many new friends this summer and have grown in my relationships with old friends. For this, I am thankful.
    This summer I have experienced the real and tangible love of God. Not only did I experience it with Epworth people, but I experienced it through them. Our church rendered over sixty Vacation Bible School volunteers and over thirty Wacky Wednesday volunteers. This is incredible! My confidence in the success of each of our events rested in the security of these devoted and reliable volunteers. Epworth people take care of each other. I have never felt more loved and encouraged than I have this summer. I appreciated all of the positive words and regular phone calls offering service to our ministry and Epworth’s very loved and blessed children.
    Epworth is the place I have called home for over twenty years now. This church family has guided me through childhood and awkward pre-teen years and now leads me into adulthood. I proudly claim a beautiful family that loves and supports each other unconditionally. Thank you for being great, thank you for loving me and each other, but most importantly, thank you for providing the community with a place they can call home. 

Your Joy

   Andy introduced a new song to the early service this week. The first verse and chorus from "Your Joy", released by Josh Fox earlier this year, says  

In Christ I am a new creation, the old has gone, the new has come

In Christ I'm free, from guilt and shame

I am fully known and fully loved, I am Your joy, Your joy

the one that You love, the apple of Your Sovereign eye

   As I stood singing, letting the words of this new song begin to fit together like a puzzle piece in my mind, a sense of remembrance came up within me. It was that feeling that something you are experiencing now is much like something you have experienced before. As the congregation stood repeating the chorus, I realized that this was the message that Sister Chris shared with me nearly two years ago on my first visit for spiritual direction at the Blessed Trinity Shrine Retreat in Fort Mitchell. It is also what she shared with Epworth last Fall when she preached. We are the joy of God. God delights in us. We are God's beloved.
   When the song was over, Andy said what I was thinking: we don't hear this message enough. We don't hear the plain truth that God loves us and delights in us. We are the apple of God's eye. Some people have never heard that, some have forgotten it and many just misunderstand God's relationship with us. Sister Chris shared with me an excerpt of Henri Nouwen's book, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World. In the book, Nouwen describes the void that our misunderstanding has created:

Aren't you, like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along to give you that final feeling of inner well-being you desire? Don't you often hope: 'May this book, idea, course, trip, job, country or relationship fulfill my deepest desire.' But as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment you will go on running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful and angry, never fully satisfied. You know that this is the compulsiveness that keeps us going and busy, but at the same time makes us wonder whether we are getting anywhere in the long run. This is the way to spiritual exhaustion and burn-out. This is the way to spiritual death.

   No one thing can satisfy the longing, no single product or moment can fill the void; except for the One who is True. The older I get the more I wonder if maybe this should be the only message we preach and the only melody we sing. God loves us. In Christ I'm free, from guilt and shame. I am fully known and fully loved.
   Grace and Peace, Scott

Comfort in Uncomfortable Places, by Julie Hagan

   Teenagers are difficult sometimes.  Having worked as a middle school teacher for years, I have had my fair share of dealings with kids who still need structure and discipline, but want that sense of freedom that comes from making their own decisions.  They want to make their own way.  This week, I was able to spend some time with a group of teenagers who fit this description.  They have the knowledge, the charisma and the energy to tackle most anything that comes their way, but they also want the assurance from parents and other adults that someone will be there to catch them if they fall.
   I found myself this past week in unfamiliar territory as I participated in the Youth Mission trip to Cairo, Illinois.  I had been on similar trips in the past, but I was younger then, and seemed to be less aware of my limitations.  Sleeping on the floor and showering at an off-site facility wasn't a big deal back then, but is much less comfortable now.  My body doesn't jump out of bed as easily as it used to, and cold locker room showers don’t seem to make me feel as revived as my shower at home.  There were many aspects of the trip that were a new challenge for me, but watching our teenagers serve God and the community wasn't one of them.  I watched them read and play with children, visit with nursing home patients, pick up garbage, mow grass, have fun with residents of a mental health facility, wash dishes, prepare meals, and learn about the people and history of Cairo.  I watched them introduce some new friends from Kansas and Minnesota to examples of our southern dialect and euphemisms.  They even taught them all about Chick-Fil-A. 
   I watched them worship at the end of each day, expressing the highs and lows of all they had seen and done.  In the actions of serving, they too were served.  We all were.  They were able to see a glimpse of someone else’s life, someone else’s struggles.  For a few days their focus was not on themselves, and it was a blessing to watch them reach out to others.  You would have been proud of our kids.  They didn't complain and they didn't stop working until it was finished.  They represented Epworth and the kingdom of God with grace and kindness.  We found comfort in the uncomfortable places.  May we allow God to use us to bring the same comfort to others.

Just One Hit, The Splendid Splinter, and the Jesus Way

   The Midsummer Classic is nearly upon us. The All-Star Game in Major League Baseball, that has seen the best of the National and American Leagues face off against each other since its inception in 1933, is set for next Tuesday the 16th in New York City and will be hosted by the Mets. The starting fielders are selected by the fans, the pitchers by the managers, and the reserves by other players and fans. It will feature some incredible athletes who play the sport, cherished by boys and girls around the world, at a level unlike others. These guys are good. Yet, the difference that separates the best from the rest is narrow. Really, it comes down to just one hit. Consider this: 

a batter that successfully hits 3 times in 12 at-bats has an average of .250

a batter that successfully hits 4 times in 12 at-bats has an average of .333

Ted Williams, the Boston Red Sox
"Splendid Splinter"

   The difference in the results is enormous, but the difference in hits is so slight. Just one hit more in each 12 at-bats is the difference in being an average player versus one of the greatest. Ted Williams,  probably the best hitter ever, finished his career with a .344 average. You can see that in many respects just one hit separated Williams from the rest.
   The implications are many. Perfection is not required for greatness - even the great ones fail often. The little moments and experiences can add up and alter the trajectory of where we are headed by significant amounts. Maybe this is what Jesus meant when he said, "For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it," in Matthew 7.
   I was listening this week to Chip Heath, a Stanford University professor and author on leadership and human behavior, talk about this very stuff. He applies it to leadership and says if we would focus on preparing for one better at-bat, it could change everything. This is what I am praying about and pondering: how can we prepare for the next six months to put the ball in play better than ever before? How can our leaders ask great questions and pursue better Spirit-led answers? We will not always reach successfully, but neither did some of the best ever.
   Grace and Peace to you (and Go Braves), Scott