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