A prayer for the Church ...

O God,

In these days before the celebration of Pentecost, we pray that your Holy Spirit would fall fresh upon your Church, breaking the spirit of Nominal Christianity.

Lord, some of us have just enough religion to keep us from being true followers of you. Let your Holy Spirit fall upon us.

Some of us want to be with you eternally just enough to make us feel safe. Lord, Let your Holy Spirit fall upon us.

Some of us care just enough for the least, the last, and the lost, just enough to appear pious and righteous before our friends. Let your Holy Spirit fall upon us.

We're tired of playing church, O God.

We're tired of a weak faith, O God.

Send your Spirit down upon us, shattering the spirit of Nominal Christianity once and for all.

In the Name above all names, Jesus Christ, amen and amen.

Living stones

One of the disciplines I explored in college — I know, for someone as undisciplined as I was, that’s a strange way to put it — but one of the disciplines I explored was geology.

I chose that field for my science credits because, in high school, I always did better with earth sciences than biology … that and because I thought it cool in the ’70s to say that I enjoyed studying rock.

But rocks have always fascinated me.

I love to look at the mica found in Tennessee waterways.

Feldspar, or field rock, adds beauty to any landscape … earthen tones springing through fields of green.

River rock brings a reminder that God’s Creation will still be molding and moving things long after we are gone from this world.

Outcroppings, such as the Blowing Rock in North Carolina and the weather worn and time-chiseled features of Grandfather Mountain, are another fascination for me. Again, they remind me that God's Creation is constantly being molded into things of beauty.

In Peter's first letter we are urged, "Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God's sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ." (1 Peter 2:4-5) As "living stones," we are constantly being formed into the likeness of Christ, and are thus being used to build God's Kingdom.

Michael Card weaves it this way in song ("Living Stones"):

“Living stones, living stones

We are holy, living stones

Built upon the firm foundation

That is Jesus

And as we cling to that Rock

Who became a Stumbling Block

We remember we are living stones.”

"Come to him, a living stone ..."

Grace and peace ...

The Elvis Cup and 'Hotel California'

I’m not the pop culture aficionado I was a few decades ago. Despite my vocation as a journalist, I sometimes get lost in the blur of names and faces that roll past the screen.

Maybe it’s age.

But I surfed over to on People magazine’s Web site a little more than a week ago and here were just a few of the headlines: “Angelina and Brad’s adoption of Pax Finalized,” “Hepatitis Scare Hits Ashton, Demi and Madonna,” and “Johnny Knoxville Recovering from Motorcycle Injury.”

You could surf over to about another half-dozen or more related stories on Angelina Jolie, and even get a glimpse of “Brad & Angelina’s Date Night.”

We obviously can’t get enough of celebrities — particularly, I suppose, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie; however, we’re now into celebrity offspring.

A couple of years ago, we couldn’t get enough of Shiloh Jolie, when People magazine paid $4 million for the U.S. rights alone to shoot pictures of the baby. Within the past month, Christina Aguilera debuted her newborn son, Max, on the cover of People for a reported $1.5 million. Not to be outdone, it was recently reported that Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony were negotiating a $6 million deal for exclusive photos of their twins.

Danielle Friedland, who runs Celebrity Baby Blog, said the craving for celebrity news is fueled by the tabloid media.

“Celebrities always have children ... it's just that we're paying so much more attention to them right now,” Friedland told The Associated Press. “The more that we see of them, the more we want.”

But why blame the tabloid media? We’re the ones who can’t get enough of this stuff.

Celebrities have been turned into little gods on big screens, and now we are worshipping the children of little gods.

We live in a culture of celebrity worship, but it apparently doesn’t take a whole lot to achieve the status of celebrity. The late social historian Daniel Boorstin, who died in 2004, wrote, “Anyone can become a celebrity if only he can get into the news and stay there.”

And that is what many of them do best: They get in the news, and stay there, and we glorify them all the more … sometimes, even after death.

Refusing to let a celebrity die in peace, the culture of celebrity worship creates conspiracy theories surrounding their deaths to keep them alive. Urban legends abound maintaining that Elvis is not really dead, nor is Jim Morrison of The Doors. We assign these celebrities the status of immortality, for it is difficult to let little gods die.

Len Sweet tells about the vial of “Elvis water” that sold on E-bay for $455 a couple of years ago. The water was the property of Wade Jones of Belmont, N.C., who said a police officer gave him a Styrofoam cup as a souvenir after a 1977 show by Presley in Charlotte. Inside the cup were a few sips of water. Jones writes on his eBay posting that after he got home he put Saran Wrap over the cup, put a rubber band around it, and placed it in a freezer. He auctioned off the remaining three tablespoons of water for $455.

Later, Jones auctioned off a one-time appearance by the cup, which was won by Nutballz, a company that makes food products free of wheat or refined sugar and who used the appearance as a benefit fund-raiser. The Elvis cup was in the house for all to bow down and worship.

Celebrity worship is detrimental to our own spirits, for only God is worthy of our worship. Celebrity worship is also detrimental to the object of our affections. Look at what happened to Elvis, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janice Joplin and Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones. Look at what’s happening to Britney Spears.

When mere human beings made only in the likeness of God are set up as objects of worships — as little gods — it’s no wonder so many of them end up living, and dying, as classic tragedies.

And look at the lives we are setting up for the children of these little gods. We pay $6 million just to see their images. Surely there is the temptation for them to later view themselves as little gods.

The year I started college at ETSU, The Eagles released the album “Hotel California.” There was an incredible amount of urban legend surrounding that album. There were rumors that the title cut was about a Christian church that was abandoned in 1969 and taken over by an occultic group. There were even rumors that The Eagles were Satan worshippers and that the image of the Satanic High Priest Anton LeVey could be seen in one of the windows of the building on the cover.

My wife gave me The Eagles’ double-CD set for Valentine’s Day. In the liner notes, Glenn Frye had this to say about “Hotel California”:

“ … we did not start out to make any sort of concept or theme album. But when we wrote ‘Life in the Fast Lane’ and started working on ‘Hotel California’ and ‘New Kid in Town’ … we knew we were heading down a long and twisted corridor and just stayed with it. Songs from the dark side — the Eagles take a look at the seamy underbelly of L.A. — the flip side of fame and failure, love and money.”

These lyrics point to the flip side of celebrity worship:

“Last thing I remember, I was running for the door/I had to find the passage back to the place I was before/‘Releax,’ said the night man, ‘We are programmed to receive. ‘You can checkout any time you like, but you can never leave!’”

Once you see yourself as a little god, once a culture has placed you in the residence of worship, it must be difficult — if not impossible — to check out of that hotel, to live a normal life, to see yourself once again as a child of God. As believers in the one true God, let’s open the door and set the idols free.

Let’s evict them from Hotel California.

A few brief thoughts and images from Divine Rhythm's first night of worship

You got a sense that the Spirit was right at Country Tonite Theater when gremlins got into the video booth and patience won the night.

"They want me to tell a joke," emcee Mark Wills said, adding that it's difficult to come up with a joke on the spur of the moment.

It was obvious to the crowd that the pastor from Carters Chapel United Methodist Church in Greeneville was struggling, so someone lobbed a joke from the seats.

"What does a fish with no eyes sound like?"

After a slight hesitation, the answer came from what sounded like scores of voices:
"Fssssshhhhh ...."

Divine Rhythm was under way.

The Michael Gungor Band came out of the gate charging with some edgy originals. Beforfe the set was over, the gathering had moved into a time of solid worship, mixing standards such as "Here I Am to Worship" and "We Fall Down," with inspiring originals.

I look forward to hearing those songs again.

Shane Claiborne told bits and pieces of his story that likely left those just now getting to know him wanting more.

I'm certain they will get it.

Grace and peace ...

Missed calls ...

Those of us who live in the world of cellular phones know the meaning of the words "Missed Calls."

You pick up your phone, see the words "Missed Calls" and immediately understand that someone has tried to reach you and you weren't available.

I wonder how many times God has called and we were either not available, or merely chose to ignore the call altogether.

For the past few years, the week after Christmas has been a time to retreat and relax after the Thanksgiving-to-Christmas dash. For the most part, I was able to accomplish that this year.

I retreated into the mountains of Upper East Tennessee and spent some time in contemplation, as well as using it as a time to just "be" with my family.

We ate. We talked. We ate. We talked. We ate ...

At some point in our sharing of stories from days gone by, my mom said, "You came home one day and told me you were going to be a preacher."

That was news to my memory and so I probed her, asking, "When was that?"

"It was when you were going to church with Uncle Russell."

That would have been 1969 or so, when I was baptized.

An older gentleman who knew my Uncle Russell had been picking me up on Sunday mornings and taking me to Hatcher Memorial Baptist Church in Richmond, Virginia. I stayed connected to the church for about year after that, I suppose.

I don't specifically recall saying, "I'm going to be a preacher," but I have no doubt her memory is clear on the matter.

I now wonder whether that was a missed call.

Off and on in my life, there had been this sense of calling, even though I likely would have never used that word to describe the impression ­ that is, at least not until my "heart was strangely warmed" at the age of 29.

I have this theory about the large number of baby boomers entering the ministry later in life: We allowed the noise of the 1960s and '70s to drown out God -- either never hearing the call in the first place, or allowing it to fade into the distance.

Some of us might even seek to fulfill that sense of calling through other endeavors, not even considering the possibility that the drive within our spirit is a movement of God.

Twenty-twenty spiritual hindsight being what it is, it's theologically reasonable that I would have felt a move of the Holy Spirit following my baptism.

Those of us who get into such things know that this past Sunday was "Baptism of the Lord" Sunday on the church calendar.

We read the story of Jesus' baptism and understand his calling, because we know the story: John baptizes Jesus; the Father says, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

The call came and Jesus responded.

He gave up his home and consecrated his life to the mission of God's Only Son.

It was a dangerous mission.

He took up the call of the cross, which he carried all his life and on which he eventually died. He became a homeless man.

Those of who have been baptized in the Christian tradition identify with the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

The grace that baptism makes available is the atonement of Christ -- we are "at one" with God.

Baptism involves our own dying to sin, newness of life, union with Christ, receiving the Holy Spirit, and incorporation into Christ's Church.

As I look back on my own baptism, it was far too easy to conform to the world and not allow myself to be transformed by the Spirit of God. It was some 15 or 16 years later that I allowed God to transform my life, eventually leading to the acceptance of his call.

When we truly allow the Spirit of God to move in our life, the sacrament of Baptism transforms our lives and we think, speak, live, and act in ways that "re-present" the image of Christ to the world.

But there is a part of baptism that is the calling. We receive the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit endows us with gifts that are to be used in the service of God.

As baptized believers, we are called by God.

God has a claim on our lives.

The work that many of us call "ministry" is a response to that call, and that claim, that God has on our lives.

If we can not point to such a work, then we have missed the call.

As I said, I was baptized at the age of about 13; but I believe my true acceptance of grace came at the age of 29 in 1985.

It was Christmas 1990 or so that my niece, Wendy, looked at me and said, "Uncle Buzzy, I think you would make a good missionary or preacher, or something."

I was a bit taken aback, but said, "Well, Wendy, I think if God wants me to do something like that he¹ll let me know.²

In that sweet, little Virginian voice she said, "Well, maybe he is ..."

I let it pass, not giving it a great deal of thought.

About three or four years later, I was asked to speak to the "Liars Club," a group of older men from Middlebrook Pike United Methodist Church who met weekly at the West Town Mall Chik-fil-A.

Afterward, one of the older gents said, "You know, you'd probably make a pretty good preacher. You ever think of that?"

I was taken aback, but said, "Well, sir, I think if God wants me to do something like that he'll let me know."

The old saint said, "Well, maybe he is ..."

It was still five or six years before I gave in. But in 2001, I finally decided to run with it, rather than run from it. In religious-speak, I tried to "let go and let God."

My question today is this: What is God calling you to do this year, or even with the rest of your life?

Discover what it is, and then run with it -- don't run away from it. Believe me, if my experience is the norm, you will not be complete until you do so.

And what is God calling this community of faith in The Meadow to do next?

God declares through the prophet Isaiah, "See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare ..."

In the days of Isaiah, the new thing is the new exodus out of Babylon.

In the days of John the Bapitst, the new thing is the new exodus inaugurated with the coming of the Messiah, Jesus the Christ.

I sense that God is calling us to a new thing.

What is this new thing?

May we seek it together, may we discover it, and may we run with it.

To the glory of God!

Grace and peace ...

Wanted: Authentic disciples of Christ

It's been a while since I pulled out my stamp collection, which I started in college.

I love stamp stories, which is why in 1984 I read a book called "Nassau Street," by the internationally known Herman Herst Jr. Nassau Street was the center of philately in the 1930s, when Herst set up shop there.

One day after reading this book, I was wandering through a stamp and coin shop in Beaumont, Texas, when something on a sales stand caught my eye. It was a hand-painted auction card with a block of four stamps attached, with the card carrying Herst's signature. The auction card noted that the stamps, which commemorated the Byrd Expedition, had once been part of President Franklin D. Roosevelt's collection and had been presented to him in 1933 by Postmaster General Farley. The stamps were part of the president's collection, which was sold at auction by order of his Estate in February 1946. The card notes, "Of the above item, which is Number 1RA, only one are guaranteed to exist."

Like most philatelists, I knew that FDR was an avid stamp collector and that Farley created intentional errors for the president and his friends. I didn't know whether this was one of those errors; however, one thing I was sure of was this: This was philatelic history right before my eyes -- and I had to have it. The cost was $50, at a time when we really didn't have $50.

But my wife bought it for me for Valentine's Day.

Within a week, I penned what would be the first of two letters to Herst, the first of which found its way to the auctioneer's home in Boca Raton, Fla. In his return note, he mildly chastised me for not sending a self-addressed stamp envelope, then shared some information with me. I sent him a second letter, to which he replied in friendly tone, again offering more information on this block of stamps.

I submitted the stamps to the American Philatelic Society for authentication, because I could not find them in the Scott's stamp catalog.

The certifier confirmed what Herst shared with me: I would not find them in the catalog, because the sheet of 200 stamps was printed specifically for Roosevelt. They are indistinguishable from single copies of other Byrd Exhibition stamps, and Herst explains that is "why I did sign each one and number them."

This is provenance.

These are the identifying marks.

I have all of that information in my collection: The auction card, the letters from Herst, the American Philatelic Society's certification, and the original receipt. In the collecting world, those items are called "provenance" -- records or documents authenticating an object, or the history of ownership.

In Saint Matthew¹s biography of Jesus, we learn of a time when John the Baptist was in prison and his disciples come to Jesus. The lone prophet who had been crying in the wilderness is now caged. He's waiting, and likely wondering about things. Jesus isn't measuring up to the picture that the baptizer had painted for the coming messiah. Perhaps John was asking himself, and his disciples, "Is this the Christ? Do we have to look for another? Should we keep searching?"

And so, John's disciples come and ask Jesus, in effect, "Are you the one? Are you the authentic Messiah? Or are you just another counterfeit on the market?"

Jesus told them, "Go back and tell John what's going on: 'The blind see, The lame walk, Lepers are cleansed, The deaf hear, The dead are raised, The wretched of the earth learn that God is on their side.'" (The Message)

Jesus knows that John¹s disciples understand that he is pointing back to the writings of the prophet Isaiah. Jesus is using the prophecies of Isaiah as the provenance that details the authenticity of his messiahship. Isaiah wrote, "God is here, right here, on his way to put things right. Blind eyes will be opened, deaf ears unstopped, Lame men and women will leap like deer, the voiceless break into song."

Jesus was doing these things -- and he is still doing these things.

Isaiah's writings, though meant for a particular time and place, became the provenance for the authenticity of Jesus as the Christ.

Many of us who are part of the Christian tradition are engaged in a variety of things that bear little of the signature of authentic Christ followers. If we look at the provenance of Christ, what would be that signature? The hungry will be fed; widows and orphans cared for; sinners will come to know Christ; and the people will live justly, do mercy, and walk humbly with their God. There will be healing in their midst.

An authentic Christian bears the authentic marks of a life like Christ; likewise with authentic Christian communities. It is only through such provenance that the world will accept the message.

Above all others, Christian communities should be the ones who show:

He is the One. We do not need to keep searching for another.

The blind see.

The deaf hear.

The lame walk.

The voiceless have a voice.

Grace and peace ...

Of Thomas Merton and Life as a Beginner in Prayer

It's a cold, rainy day here at Ripshin.

I have spent most of the morning finishing Brennan Manning's "The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus," a text for what has become something of a retreat for me during this season of Joy. I believe it would be a good text for group study at The Meadow and have considered leading it during Sunday School. I will speak with Glenda about that possibility.

I had planned some outdoor activity today, but the cold rain has kept me indoors. Having finished the Manning text, I then moved on to a brief devotion by Thomas Merton, which amounted to excerpts from "Contemplative Prayer." I am impressed by the simplicity of his thoughts on such prayer, as well as how relevant they seem to my own experience.

The excerpt I read is from a book I purchased while at Fairhaven Ministries last Christmas season, "Devotional Classics: Selected Readings for Individuals and Groups," edited by Richard J. Foster and James Bryan Smith (1993 HarperSanFrancisco). I highly recommend this devotional resource.

In the reading, Merton warns against seeking some magical method, but encourages an "attitude," an "outlook" -- faith, openness, attention, reverence, expectation, supplication, trust and joy. "All these finally permeate our being with love in so far as our living faith tells us we are in the presence of God, that we live in Christ, that in the Spirit of God we 'see' God our Father without 'seeing.'"

He acknowledges that there is hardship in prayer and that we may find meditation difficult; however, we should not rely on feelings. Merton offers an insightful explanation: The movement of meditation is one of "paschal" rhythm whereby we move from death to life in Christ. In prayer, the "death" is a descent into "our own nothingness, a recognition of helplessness, frustration, infidelity, confusion, ignorance."

There was much more to this excerpt, but I will offer this last additional insight, one that speaks directly to me: "One cannot begin to face the real difficulties of the life of prayer and meditation unless one is first perfectly content to be a beginner and really experience himself as one who knows little or nothing and has a desperate need to learn the bare rudiments. ...

"We do not want to be beginners. But let us be convinced of the fact that we will never be anything else but beginners."

As 2007 draws to a close, here's to seeing myself as a beginner in the school of praying in and with the Spirit.

Grace and peace ...