My Brother Richmond's New Book

To honor Richmond after his death, our family finished having his new book Frozen Ghost published. He had turned in his final draft to the self-publishing company, so we picked up the ball. I wrote a foreword for his book and approved the final drafting stages.

It is now available for purchase online. Here is a link to it on Amazon. You may also find it on Barnes and Noble here.

Below is the foreward I wrote for his book. May it honor him, and may he rest in peace.

Foreward

When I read Richmond’s first book, The Deviants, I was sure it was the wildest thing I had ever seen. Yet his subsequent books, Your Yesterday Is My Tomorrow and Witch Hunt, never failed to take me on voyages through unconventional waters. His writing is gripping, if out of the ordinary.

Even as his fourth book, Frozen Ghost, was in the process of publication, Richmond’s life ended too early. He died suddenly of a heart attack after spending the day with family touring the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, informally known as the “Lynching Memorial,” in Montgomery, Alabama. On his very last day, he was longing for justice, something that was deeply important to him.

My father, my other brothers, and I decided to honor his life and memory by following through with his plans to have this book published. It is with bittersweet joy that we share it with you.

I could tell you about Richmond’s relentless love for God, for Christian theology, for world religions, for philosophy, for social justice, and for the Church. I could tell you about his amazing academic accomplishments. But what I really want to tell you is this. He had a brilliant and beautiful mind.

I sometimes say he could waltz into a room and teach a course in world religions that would knock your socks off, but he might not be able to find his own socks. The unfolding of his beautiful mind started when he was teaching and involved in his first doctoral program, before mom died eighteen years ago. I say that not to call attention to his suffering. I say that because more than anyone I know, he was an overcomer. This is what inspires me the most about his life.

No matter what the obstacles, he was eternally fascinated with theology and philosophy and loved to find hints of it in movies and fiction. He refused to stop creating. He finished a Ph.D. at Purdue in philosophy and literature, and this was his proudest moment. He simply loved to write.

I once told him that his writing “defied genre.” He took that as a huge compliment, which it was meant to be, and then used that phrase on the back cover of a subsequent book. The threads he could weave between philosophy, comics, vivid memories, fantasy novels, painful past experiences, science fiction, and theology gave me insight into the beauty of his mind. Writing was his way of making sense of things, of finding peace, and of blessing the world.

As I read this book, I mused on his story of the broken mirror, and Richmond saying, “I just looked at it and it broke!” I know that really happened, for I was the brother who teased him about it for years. I pondered the technical term “audio pareidolia” he mentioned, clearly a symptom of his condition which he had become educated about. I vividly remembered conversations we had about the voice of Diana, who was speaking to him from across the stars. As always, I found reminders of the intricate way he wove various threads of his life together through writing. It is truly a tapestry.

I have learned more from my brother Richmond than anyone I have ever known about courage, determination, and relentless creativity. I’m delighted that after that long mental, intellectual, and philosophical journey of his beautiful mind, he had unwavering faith. In recent years, he loved going to church and being involved in teaching Sunday School, singing in the choir, and ministries of addiction recovery.

He died too early. But my heart is full of gratitude that he died happy, stable, creative, and excited about this book.

Richmond would have been thrilled to know that at his funeral, I would close my brief remarks with the famous quote from Captain Kirk at the funeral of his dear, Vulcan friend Spock. “Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most … human.”

And it was.

Stephen Pierce West

Brother of Richmond Pierce West

August 2021

Clearing

A poem by Martha Postlewaite

Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself
to this world
so worth of rescue.

Finding Easter perspective in these strange times

This my column which appeared on the front page of The Arab Tribune on Thursday, April 9, 2020 during the Coronavirus pandemic.

These are strange times.

Just like almost everyone else, we have closed the church office, and all of us are working at home. I’m spending way more time on the phone and much less time in person. I’m about to completely wear out my house shoes.

For the first time I can remember, my phone starts feeling warm on my ear every day. I became an amateur aficionado of Zoom and got over my distaste and discomfort with selfie videos. Somebody has to record the sermon for online worship, and I might as well let other people stay home, right?

My son came back from Germany a few months early and self-quarantined in the teardrop camper parked in my garage. My daughter has been nursing in all-COVID units, and today she feels sick, so she is getting her second test since the first one came back negative. A member of my church got the Coronavirus after a heart procedure but, thank God, she is recovering and off the respirator. I can’t go see her, so phone calls will have to do. Every day I pray for those who take ill and for those who are on the front lines, for people whose lives are disrupted and for those who find themselves looking for a job.

All this brings me to the weirdest Holy Week we’ve ever known. The White House issued a statement warning that “one of the toughest weeks is ahead,” and this happens to be the week of all weeks.

I grew up in the Church and have been a pastor for over 30 years. It’s going to be strange not gathering in the building on Easter (or Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, for that matter). My congregation won’t be “in” church, though we’ll definitely be “at” church. Thank God we can worship online.

No matter how bizarre Holy Week is this year, in a way it’s a “tough” week every year because it is the week of the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus. But like my pastor friend says when giving his two word summary of the mystifying book of Revelation, “God wins.” And that keeps it all in perspective.

My wife and I were talking this morning over coffee, and I told her I’d been asked to write a column for Easter. Off the top of her head, she said there are four different perspectives we have on this journey. There’s the steering wheel, the windshield, the road ahead, and the horizon. She’s pretty intuitive, so I went with that.

The “steering wheel perspective” is about what’s right in front of you. You have to get food and medical supplies, as well as that extra roll of coveted toilet paper. You have to find what you need for a functioning household or get someone you love to the doctor. You download Zoom so your kids can go to school and spend time with them so they don’t go stir crazy. Sometimes your knuckles turn white holding onto the steering wheel, so it’s important to try and relax. But my wife makes me wipe my steering wheel with a napkin soaked in alcohol. It’s not always easy to keep focused on what’s right in front of you, but it’s all you’ve got in our hands. That’s “steering wheel” perspective.

The “windshield perspective” is how you perceive the larger world around you. How do you keep your windshield clean so you can see what do do next? You can’t keep it disinfected, but you have to clean off the coat of yellow pollen. It’s important to think about others on the road, not just what’s right in front of you. How do you get exercise without endangering anyone? Are you willing to wear a cloth mask? I have been disturbed by high-profile pastors who held public worship, defying the orders of government and the strong recommendations of health officials. For me, that’s not seeing the forest for the trees. My church has gone to online worship and we are finding new ways to be in community. Simply put, it’s the right thing to do. It’s not easy, but with a little creativity we can figure out how to do it together. That’s “windshield” perspective.

The “road ahead” perspective is to begin to see where all this is going and how you are going to get there. Most of us aren’t there yet, but after surprise after surprise has unrolled during the last few weeks, at some point you need to move from reacting to the latest stats to a long-term vision. Humanity is resilient and our country is strong, so there will be a way through. We’ve made it through through times before, but if you are going to look back on history and see this is as one of our finest hours (like Churchill famously said of England in World War II), it has to do with the direction we take in all this, not just what’s in right front of you. That’s “road ahead” perspective.

The “horizon” perspective is where Easter comes in. There is a bigger picture that lies at the end of the road and illuminates it along the way. Yes, you must deal with what’s right in front of you, operate with high regard for others, and find direction during tumultuous times. But this week is not just a “tough week ahead of us.” It’s a replay of the toughest and greatest week of all time.

Our faith reminds us that no matter what, our lives belong to God. Through the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ, we are given power over death and destruction. Easter is not just about bunnies, eggs, and springtime.

One of the serendipitous blessings of these strange times is that I get to hear friends preach online, and as a pastor friend in Ghana said this week, every healing, blessing, and deliverance you are seeking from God is imbedded in the Paschal Mystery ... in the suffering, death, and resurrection of Christ. That’s “horizon” perspective.

So keep your chin up. Look beyond the steering wheel, beyond the windshield, and even beyond the road ahead of you. There is a horizon up ahead.

Steve West is a husband, father, minister, musician, and writer who pastors Arab First United Methodist Church. His blog, “Musings of a Musical Preacher,” is at www.stevewestsmusings.blogspot.com.

Tortured by Their Own Hunger

“For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?” - Kahlil Gibran

This is an extremely wise saying. The farther I get in life, the more I see it. There’s a reason Jesus said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

It helps us see that those who oppose us in life are coming from a place of brokenness we can’t understand. It’s freeing to be clear with ourselves about who we are, and give the rest to God.

The Kingdom of God and Life after Death

I prepared this for the last couple of weeks of a study I did for my Wednesday night class on the "Kingdom of God" spanning the Old and New Testaments. I thought I'd share it online. 

Over the years, I have contemplated a number of traditions in scripture regarding the kingdom of God and the afterlife. Jesus speaks about the kingdom more than any other subject. It is a great mystery we live into and a reality we pray into being. Jesus taught us to pray, “thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” and this prayer is the centerpiece of our missional theology.

Almost all of Jesus's teaching is dipped in illustrative language such as parables and stories, metaphorical language such as his “I am” statements, and allegorical language such as "if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off."  His teaching is about the mystery of the kingdom and how to live in it now. But the promise is that one day it will come into fullness. The classical theology of the kingdom is that it is both “now” and “not yet.” Jesus said very little about getting us into heaven. Most of his teaching is about getting a little of heaven into us.

There is much in the scripture that leads up to Christ’s teaching on the kingdom of God, starting with the longing for an earthly king by Israel, who was tired of the pesky Philistines, and God’s warning about what it would entail (taxes, the draft, giving their daughters away, etc.). Then, as if out of the disappointments that these human kings brought, there emerged in the scripture a longing for a Messianic king. As we flip over to the New Testament, Jesus, the Christ, fulfills these longings as the Messiah and begins to teach openly about the kingdom. From this theological setting, there are strands of tradition that develop in New Testament scripture about the ultimate reality of the coming kingdom. As George Ladd aptly said, in the Christ event the kingdom was “fulfillment without consummation.”

Jesus promises that there is more to the redemption story beyond the grave and beyond present history, and Paul begins to shed light on it. But we are left with mystery about the details. Jesus couldn’t be more clear about the gift of heaven to look forward to, in the midst of controversy between Pharisees and Sadducees over whether there is an afterlife. But by the masterful design of God’s revelation, we are left to trust how the end times pan out.

Personally, I do not buy into the fundamentalist concept that every strand of scriptural tradition is meant to be literal and somehow fits together in an elaborate scheme of the end times. For example, I do not believe in the rapture (a word not in the Bible), but that Jesus was using metaphorical language to describe an aspect of the second coming. Similarly, I do not believe in a thousand years of the kingdom on earth, because it is based on one verse in the book of Revelation, which is chalk full of metaphorical language. There are those who write books and make charts and argue details, and it’s a futile effort in our worship of the one who said that only the Father knows the times and seasons.

Here are some scriptures to study, as I have personally categorized them. In the strands of tradition under “unrealized eschatology,” I hold them up in creative tension rather than trying to be too exacting about how it all happens.

I always emphasize our two-part promise for the afterlife. There is both an immediacy of heaven for those who call on the name of the Lord in this life, as well as a second coming which brings ultimate reconciliation of all things and raises souls that are asleep in the last days (though I don’t believe God will destroy the gift of free will, so I’m not really universalist). With John Wesley, I don’t buy purgatory and see it as an invented solution to this dynamic tension between the “now” and “not yet.” Just holding up the two-part promise, and trusting God for the rest, is what makes the most sense to me personally.

But study it for yourself and see what you think.

The Kingdom is NOW – “Realized eschatology”
Lk 17:20-21 - Jesus said the kingdom is “in the midst of you”
Mt 12:24-28 – Jesus said the kingdom “has come to you”
Mt 11:2-6 – Jesus threw John the Baptist off guard
Lk 4:38-29 – One crowd wanted to throw him off a cliff
Jn 6:15 – Another wanted to crown him king

The Kingdom is NOT YET – “Unrealized eschatology”

Lk 19:11-13 – they “supposed” the kingdom was to appear immediately
Rm 8:18-25 – creation “groaning”, waiting for redemption
He 2:8-9 – we see Jesus but not everything in “subjection” to him

First strand of this tradition – IMMEDIACY of heaven:
Lk 23:39-43 – Jesus said “today” you will be with me in paradise
2 Cor 5:8 – To be absent in body is to be present “with the Lord”

Second strand of this tradition – RESSURECTION of the body:
1 Cor 15:35-44, 51-52 – trumpet shall sound and “dead shall be raised”
1 Jn 3:2-3 – when Christ is revealed, we shall be “like him”
1 Thes 4:16-17 – dead in Christ shall rise first

Third strand of this tradition – SECOND coming:
Acts 1:9-11 – will come back in blaze of glory “as he left”
1 Thess 5:2 – “day” will come as thief in the night
Mt 24:36-44 – the rapture concept

Fourth strand of this tradition – MILLENIALISM (pre- or post-):
Rev. 20:1-6 – Angel binding Satan for 1,000 years

Fifth strand of this tradition – UNIVERSAL restoration:
Acts 3:19-21 – Jesus in heaven “until the time of universal restoration”
Jn 3:17 – not to condemn the world but that the “world” might be saved
Jn 12:32 – when Christ lifted up from earth, will draw “all the world” to self

Unbalanced Views of the Kingdom are PROBLEMATIC
“Sweet By and By” spirituality – fixation on the NOT YET
Prosperity and “Name It and Claim It” spirituality – fixation on the NOW
Gnostic (ancient heresy) spirituality – fixation on SPLIT between now and not yet

A Balanced View of the Kingdom is MYSTERY
Mt 13:10-11 – Jesus speaks of the “secrets” of the kingdom
Jn 18:36-37 – Jesus said the kingdom is not “from this world”

What Gets Fired Up Might Just Fizzle Out

This is my column which appeared in the Dec. 14, 2016 issue of The Arab Tribune.

I was astounded by the bright, swirling bits of fire expanding in a quiet, seemingly random pattern. My mind desperately rushed to focus on them before they were gone. But there were too many to focus on.

Light was blazing and quickly falling. I wondered how something so random could descend with such grace, tracing patterns of light in the darkness. I had never seen such dangerous energy, such striking beauty, in the night sky.

It made an imprint on my mind and drew my imagination toward bigger things. The universe is indeed a majestic place.

No, I'm not describing the fireworks I saw on the 4th of July. A couple of weeks ago, I happened to be gazing into the night sky when I saw a full meteor shower. I can count on two fingers the number of times I've send a "shooting star", but this was different.

I know a little of the science of it. Every year in November, the earth passes though debris from a comet. Pieces of that comet, which can be as small as a pea, hit the atmosphere and fall toward the surface. The air resistance causes the crumbs to ignite into burning balls of fire.

But this is the first time I had my head up and saw the show. If I hadn't been looking, I wouldn't have seen it. It was intense, but it was short and sweet. To my eyes, it appeared as if one larger meteor entered the atmosphere and promptly broke up into numerous pieces. The pieces just whirled in the air.

I have heard of these meteor showers. But I had no idea that seeing one would take my breath away. It happened fast, and it sure looked furious. And then, in a few moments, it was gone.

Most people in the world didn't see it. But they could have if they had been focused on the sky at just the right moment. I wonder how many times in my life things that have seemed big and powerful at the time have fizzled away after their momentary madness. And the rest of the world scarcely noticed.

Some of the things that bother me just blaze and burn in this expanse we call "now," but they grow cold and dark given a little time. Someone spreads a false rumor and it stings. Or I respond as gracefully as I can to a disgruntled parishioner. Or I fail to achieve a goal that I had my heart set on. I get caught up in a misunderstanding. Or I feel blue about something I see on the news. Or I make it through a most troublesome and divisive election season (sound familiar?).

Whatever it is usually seems pretty huge. The strange thing about a meteor shower is that since we have a look from a distant enough perspective, there is a quiet beauty in the burning. And yet no matter how bright it is, soon it will be gone.

Most everything that bothers me is temporary. It is the things of virtue that are lasting, and there is a strange power in the fizzling away of the fleeting.

I often say that if I have my integrity, nothing else matters. I have had lots of challenges, but in regards to my faith, the only thing that ultimately matters is love. So I try my best to live a life that lends itself to passion for my God and my neighbor.

I admit that sometimes I keep replaying difficult experiences in my mind. I've heard it said that you can't move on to the next chapter in life if you keep re-reading the last one.

But my faith tells me that in Christ, I am a new creation. I don't think Paul is saying that just happens once. In 2 Corinthians 4, Paul adds that "inwardly we are renewed every day." He says this "because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal."

Perhaps something about that meteor shower changed me. Next time I gaze at the stars, admiring the expanse of the universe, I will try to take notice of the eternal things, the beautiful things, the unseen things. Not just the dazzling lights that I might chance to see. They catch my eye and monopolize my attention. But they, too, shall pass.

If it's true in the night sky, it's true in life as well.

There is a greater majesty lying deeply behind the flashes of light. So I will try not to get so caught up in what I can't really control. I will give myself to love, and love will see me through.

After all, love is the transcending mystery that binds the universe together and brings patterns of grace to all that burns.

I am tired of living for the blaze of glory. I suppose I am beginning to long for the greater perspective. How about you?

Steve West is a husband, father, minister, musician, and writer who pastors Arab First United Methodist Church. His blog, "Musings of a Musical Preacher," is at www.stevewestsmusings.blogspot.com.

Carrying With

This column was published in The Arab Tribune on Wednesday, June 29.

I was familiar with the African tradition of carrying water on the head but had never seen it in person before. She carried it with such poise and grace.

On a mission in Ghana, our team came to a riverbed across the road from the orphanage. There were children squealing with delight in the flowing water, while others sat downstream washing clothes. My gaze rested on one young woman that stood with her feet planted in the stream and a large basin balanced above. Another used a bucket to help her fill it to the brim of capacity.

Soon she toted the vessel with a smooth steadiness, and they walked together with laughter and joy. I wondered if the glow on their faces was from serving their community or the companionship of a friend. Perhaps it was both.

My thoughts wandered to Paul's encouragement that we "bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." It strikes me as odd that a few verses later, Paul uses the same Greek verb to say "for all must carry their own loads."

There are some things we bear the heaviness of, and no one can carry it for us. The good news is others can carry it with us. Sharing the path lightens the load, even if one of us is shouldering most of the weight.

The Latin root of the word “suffer” means to “carry from below.” So quite literally, suffering is something we must undergo. It is part of the beautiful yet complex nature of the journey. Yet Christian community happens when we hoist our loads together.

There is a Pentecost icon in a seminary chapel I love to worship in. A number of disciples are gathered together in the house where they are sitting, and tongues of fire rest above each head.

Reading the icon one day, I traced the flames above each figure. The colors and patterns gave me the sense that they were "all together in this." My imagination wandered from the fire above their heads to the burdens they must carry below. Granted, you can't actually see weights dangling from their necks or drooping from their belts, but I imagined they were under their robes just the same, hidden from view as suffering often is.

Even those energized by love have places of heaviness underneath the surface. But we dare to carry our burdens together. It is part of the holy fire of what it means to be in community.

A profound image of this is the story of the paralytic being lowered through the roof by his friends, coming before Jesus for healing. After Christ touched him with forgiveness, he said “stand up, take your mat and walk.” Healing happened when he could carry the pallet himself. How interesting.

There is a reason we say, when praying for someone, we are "lifting" them up. We lift them, not the load they bear. That’s when community brings soothing to the suffering soul.

Steve West is a husband, father, minister, musician, and writer who pastors Arab First United Methodist Church. His blog, "Musings of a Musical Preacher," is found at www.stevewestsmusings.blogspot.com.

Holding People in a Different Place of the Heart

Jesus loved Gentiles and tax collectors. It’s a good thing, too, or I wouldn’t be here writing this. So I have always been perplexed by the closing words of this scripture:

“If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax-collector.” – Matthew 18:15-17

Does that mean to just put them out of your mind? Or cut all ties with them? Or to treat them as trash and throw them away? Gentiles and tax collectors were deeply reviled by the people Jesus was speaking to. For the longest time, I struggled with this because I thought this must be what Jesus meant. Just forget them as if they are no part of you.

But here’s the thing: Jesus loved Gentiles and tax collectors. He called a tax collector to be one of his disciples. He ministered to Gentiles. My goodness, prophesy said he came to be a light to the Gentiles. In fact, the entirety of the book of Acts is about how his movement became a world-wide faith for Gentiles and Jews alike.

So here’s what I am starting to think. Maybe Jesus was saying to keep loving them, but to hold them in a different place. It means to realize we are “out of fellowship” with them. They are children of God, so we can never treat them like trash, or wash our hands of them, or shut down so that all we offer is disregard and unkindness.

Richard Rohr said it this way. “When you finally come to maturity, you can look back at your life and forgive every bit of it. You can let go of everyone who hurt you, even your first wife or husband. You don’t even need to hate the church that hurt you. Wisdom is where you see it all and you eliminate none of it and include all of it as important training. Finally, ‘everything belongs.’ You are able to say, from some larger place that even surprises you, ‘It is what it is’ and even the ‘bad’ was good.”

Maybe the scripture means to just accept them for who they are, and to leave the door open but give it a rest. To forgive is not to forget, and it's certainly not to treat them like trash. It is to hold them as part of your life, your memories, and your learning experiences. It is to claim down deep that you tried your best, but now you must simply accept your lot with them. And just love them anyway.

But that love holds them in a different place of the heart. You are no longer seeking and trying and reconciling. You are simply accepting. You give up the chase, but you don’t let it become chastisement. You just let it be.

Sometimes I’m slow, but I think I’m finally getting it.

The Tide of Easter - Reflections on the "at-ONE-ment" of Christ

Easter is a day of great joy and celebration, not only because it is the culmination of the drama of Holy Week, and not only because it is the climax of the entire Lenten experience. It is the grandest celebration of the church because it is the ultimate expression of new life in Christ. Because of the resurrection, we have been set free from the bonds of sin and death. Thanks be to God!

Now that the holy day is over, and the season of “Eastertide” has begun, it is a good time to reflect on the deeper mystery of what I sometimes call the “great trilogy”, the three big events that changed faith history: the incarnation, the crucifixion, and the resurrection.

One of these standing alone would not be enough to save the world. These three pivotal events intertwine to form the sacred story of salvation by grace. It is by the work of God, who crossed over the chasm between the divine and human, that Jesus became what we are so that we can become like he is. It is by the self-emptying love of Christ that we find the ultimate expression of God’s very being and discover the essence of true love. And it is by the immense victory of life over death that we find meaning when we ourselves walk through death’s shadow. These three events shape our spirituality and restore the world to wholeness.

I have never been a fan of teachings related to the concept of “substitutionary atonement.” These teachings revolve around the idea that God had to vindicate himself against himself, because of the blood sacrifice he demanded for sin. So Jesus had to pay the price to purchase our forgiveness from God (when Jesus is, himself, God’s self). I do not mean to caricature a belief that is sacred to many, but for me, it simply doesn’t make any sense. The atonement is not a transaction, a slight of hand, or tricky payoff.

But seeing each of the “great trilogy” of events as an integral part of the salvation story puts the atonement in perspective. I appreciate what the Disciple Bible Study series teaches, that the essence of the atonement is the restorative “at-ONE-ment” action of God. This is what both the cross and the resurrection are about.

The cross is the ultimate expression of God’s self-giving love, and it is the emptiness of the cross that expresses our victory over the grave. The atonement is not some twisted transaction that an angry God required to satisfy himself. It is the most extreme, life-changing, earth-cleansing expression of the very nature of God’s stubborn love. God refused to give up on us, on a world that kept “going to pot” on its own. And the grace of God’s love is what transforms the cross into victory.

Easter is not about avoiding God’s judgment. It is about embracing God’s grace! We must never stop at thinking Easter is our ticket to heaven. It is about more than personal salvation. It is about the world’s redemption.

Woven Into the Life of Our Ancestors

"To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born is to remain always a child. For what is the worth of a human life unless it is woven into the life of our ancestors by the records of history?" 
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106 B.C. - 43 B.C.)

This quote touches me in deep place, not only because of my interest in genealogy and seeking the roots of who I am, but because this is the journey of the Christian spiritual life. The Bible is, shall we say, our Sacred Story because the story of our life is woven into the life of the larger Story of God's grace unfolding.

To be ignorant of the journeys, struggles, hardships, and refining fires of our ancestors in faith leaves us spiritually immature. We are not born with wisdom, and it doesn't come to us all at once. It must be gained through the journeys of life experience. We are called to be child-like, but not child-ish.

The scripture, God's revealed Word given to us for truth and life, has our story woven into its sacred pages. When our story becomes one with the greater Story, we see our lives are lived in context with the saints that have gone before us. And our lives makes sense, perhaps for the first time.

Anger Leads to Resentment, Which Leads to Bitterness

I enjoyed my 24-hour retreat in Lessburg, Florida with the leadership team for the Five-Day Academy to be held in March. My favorite quote from our discussion was "Anger leads to resentment, which leads to bitterness. So resolve your anger."

Time and again, I see how anger can be so destructive in relationships in family, workplaces, and even churches.

I reflected for a while that the way of Christ is not the way of anger, resentment, and opposition.

It is the way of companionship with those you are willing to bear the cross for.

Blessed When Times are Tough

Sometimes ministry is not easy. But it's not supposed to be.

I heard a version of a scripture from the Sermon on the Mount that was read at a public service. It caught my ear. It seemed fitting to share with my pastor friends, who get discouraged from time to time by the resistance they encounter.

Actually, it applies to anyone who is on the journey of Christian life. I hope it encourages all of you.

“Count yourself blessed every time someone cuts you down or throws you out, every time someone smears or blackens your name to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and that that person is uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—skip like a lamb, if you like!—for even though they don’t like it, I do . . . and all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company; my preachers and witnesses have always been treated like this."

(Matthew 5:22-23, The Message)

The Incurable Wound at the Heart of Everything

Richard Rohr is a great spiritualist and writer that my late friend and dear companion Michael Stewart introduced me to several years ago.

As I am exploring middle age, the empty nest, and the second half of life I'm discovering a new joy and a new wisdom. Richard's daily meditations are available by email, and this one particularly spoke to me today.

I do not find the sentiment depressing ... far from it. I find it liberating to know that there are wounds that only God can heal. I can't fix them. I share it with you in hopes that it blesses your day.

In order to arrive at the second half of life, one has to realize there is an incurable wound at the heart of everything. Much of the conflict from the age of twenty-five to sixty-five is just trying to figure this out and then to truly accept it. Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar (1905-1988) said toward the end of his life: “All great thought springs from a conflict between two eventual insights: (1) The wound which we find at the heart of everything is finally incurable, (2) Yet we are necessarily and still driven to try!” (Think about that for an hour or so!)

Our largely unsuccessful efforts of the first half of life are themselves the training ground for all virtue and growth in holiness. This wound at the heart of life shows itself in many ways, but your holding and “suffering” of this tragic wound, your persistent but failed attempts to heal it, and your final surrender to it, will ironically make you into a wise and holy person. It will make you patient, loving, hopeful, expansive, faithful, and compassionate—which is precisely second-half-of-life wisdom.

Adapted from Loving the Two Halves of Life: The Further Journey

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God Never Wastes a Hurt

Recently, on Memorial Day, I posted a picture of my Uncle Marvin Hamby on Facebook and honored his sacrifice for our country. Unfortunately, I never met him. My mother's brother was lost in World War II in October of 1942. He was serving in the navy on a tanker in the North Atlantic, supplying oil to the British. A German torpedo struck the tanker, and since there is a likelihood of explosion, my uncle and most of his crewmates jumped ship into the freezing water. Ironically, the ship did not explode but very few survived to tell the story.

My cousin Warren, who in his younger days resembled Uncle Marvin greatly, shared with me an inspirational family story that I had never heard. I share it with you in hopes that it helps us all see God at work in all things, even terrible things, if we keep our spiritual antennas up.

When my grandfather, Rev. C.P. Hamby, was a country preacher on Sand Mountain, he got a telegram saying Marvin was declared dead. It confirmed the family's greatest fears after having previously heard he was missing. It happened to be a Sunday morning when he got word, and Grandpa Hamby went on to the church he served. Before preaching, he shared with the congregation the terrible news he had just heard. He led the church in prayer, in which he asked God to forgive the enemies responsible for sinking Marvin's ship. He prayed that God would protect them so that their parents in Germany would not have to go through the great pain he was going through.

In the congregation was a young man named Jim Goodwin. He was inspired by the spirit of forgiveness Grandpa Hamby had, and this inspiration led to his decision to become a missionary. He told this story in worship one Sunday, knowing that my cousin Warren was in the congregation.

I have known Jim Goodwin and his brothers in ministry most of my life and his brother Bert did my mother's funeral. Jim became a missionary in Brazil and retired there to stay among the hundreds of people in that country that he led to Christ.

God can even use something as terrible as war, death, and tragedy for his purposes.

I do not believe that war is God's plan for humanity. However, I am also fond of saying "God never wastes a hurt." What is going on in your life that God might be using for good?

Prayer for a Week of Tragedy and Terror

My friend Lonna Lynn Higgs is a pastor and chaplain for the United Methodist Children's Home in Alabama. She shared this beautiful prayer in her email "Lines from Lonna Lynn," and I share it with you with her permission.

Great and Loving God,

All around are beautiful signs of life in the warmth of the sun and the flowers of springtime. With the greening of the trees, the world is awash in new beginnings. But computer screens and cell phones portray a very different world, an ugly world where beautiful lives meet horrible untimely ends. In moments of tragedy and terror, you, Lord, are the first of the first responders. It is your divine strength and energy that emboldens the brave souls that risk their lives to stop the pain and save the suffering. It is your power that sends forth waves of selfless compassion in answer to senseless, selfish violence. May those waves of compassion wash over fatalities and families, injured victims and damaged communities. This day we remember everyone affected by the bombings in Boston, the factory explosion in Texas and other tragedies that have not made the news.

Forgive us when faith fails us in the face of evil. Forgive us when we get lost in desires for revenge and focus on fear. You are a God of love—the one who gave your only Son, not to condemn the world, but to save it; not to tear down and destroy but to build up and to bless. Help us, Lord, to love and not to judge, to come forward with compassion and not to hide away in corners.

Set us anew to the task of living as our Lord Jesus lived. Especially help us love persons who are disconnected, alienated or outcast. Inspire us to offer ourselves as caring companions with whom they can share their loneliness. Perhaps they will let go of smoldering frustration before it sparks into violence. Perhaps they will hear your still, small voice and accept the truth that sets them free. Perhaps they will find a life of joy and peace.

It is peace that the world needs, O God of Life. Send it, we pray. Send the peace that passes all understanding. Let it rain down, fill up and pour forth from the hearts of your people. Let peace overflow into a mighty healing river that flows into Boston; into West, Texas; and into every wounded spirit. Let it flow on and on until all people love you and suffering and sorrow end. All this we ask in the name of Jesus Christ who is the Prince of Peace.

Amen.

The attached picture of a candle comes from an advertisement for an interfaith prayer service for the Boston Marathon.

It was Friday, But Sunday Was a Comin'

A friend and church member wrote this poem after hearing a famous sermon on the subject years ago. I asked if I could share it on my blog. Here it is, with his permission, on this Good Friday. My it bless your day as we enter this holy weekend!

Steve


IT WAS FRIDAY, BUT SUNDAY WAS A COMIN’

It was upon a Friday when he began to bleed,
As he suffered many lashes to pay for you and me.
And as the pain and wounds grew worse, the blood began a runnin’,
He knew just what his purpose was and that Sunday was a comin’.

They lead him through the crowded streets, a cross upon his back;
The physical strength that once was there, He now did surely lack.
The crowds, they sneered and mocked at him and made it all for funin’;
But the Spirit helped Him through it all, ‘cause Sunday was a comin’.

They drove great spikes through hands and feet that had only come to give,
But as He hung there on that tree, he continued to forgive.
Some followers watched Him from a far, while most in fear were runnin’;
They did not know what all this meant, nor that Sunday was a comin’.

As the day of Friday came to close, they laid him in a tomb:
His followers, all completely crushed, their hearts were filled with gloom.
What shall we do? Where shall we hide? Their thoughts were just a runnin’.
Filled with tears and fears they did not know that Sunday was a comin’.

But in that Great White City where God and angels dwell,
There was joy and celebration, Christ had conquered death and hell.
Ole Satan thought he had won the fight with all his wit and cunnin’,
But the angels knew that Friday meant that Sunday was a comin’.

Then at last, the time had come and Sunday did arrive,
And all of Heaven did shout with joy, “The Savior is Alive”.
So now we know when darkness comes with troubles over-runnin’,
We can praise our God when Friday‘s here, cause Sunday is a comin’.

Ron Carroway

Trust in the Slow Work of God

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin was a French Jesuit priest, biologist, geologist, and philosopher who lived until 1955. At times, his ideas were at odds with the church.

This quote was shared by one of the faculty at a recent Academy for Spiritual Formation, and it touched me deeply. I spent some more time with it this morning in prayer and want to share it with you.

I believe that we rush God's slow, abiding work in us so often and therefore, we pass by or gloss over the deep work God wants to do in us. Healing takes time, and grace pours out abundantly like a meandering stream we must come back to time and again for refreshing water.

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way
to something unknown,
something new.
Yet it is the law of all progress that is made
by passing through some stages of instability
and that may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you.
Your ideas mature gradually. Let them grow.
Let them shape themselves without undue haste.
Do not try to force them on
as though you could be today what time
-- that is to say, grace --
and circumstances
acting on your own good will
will make you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new Spirit
gradually forming in you will be.

Give our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.
Above all, trust in the slow work of God,
our loving vine-dresser.

Pictured is Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.

April 27 Day of Remembrance

I invite everyone to participate in the “Day of Remembrance” on Friday. Last year, on April 27, there were 63 devastating tornadoes that ripped through the heart and soul of Alabama. 252 lives were lost and many other lives were disrupted. Many great churches responded with fervor and grace in their relief efforts. Lots of people began the process of healing and rebuilding their lives.

For many, the experience is still raw and the one year anniversary will be highly emotionally and spiritually significant. So I invite you to pause and to pray.

Governor Bentley has proclaimed Friday as a “Day of Remembrance.” He has invited us to participate in a statewide moment of silence at 4:27 p.m. If you are not able to pause at that exact time, please take some time to pray for those affected by the mind-boggling experience of last year.

The last couple of weeks, I have shared just a few of my personal remembrances of last year. I lived in Madison County, where power and communications were completely shut down for almost a week. My wife and I talked about how the video we showed in traditional services remembering April 27 had footage we had never seen, since there was no way we could have seen it. Not sure what to do, I went on a ministry of knocking on doors to communicate with congregants over who was affected and who could help. No one in my congregation died, but two homes had been destroyed and two others damaged. I rolled up my sleeves and spent one day helping a church family move out of their demolished home to a friend’s house. I remember vividly driving up to our nearby sister church, Ford’s Chapel UMC, and the surreal experiences of supporting their pastor and seeing how hard their historic chapel and the neighborhoods around them were hit.

Yesterday, I recalled what it was like for the people of our own neighborhood in Madison to come together. By day, we all helped and worked and assisted wherever we could. Each night, since all of our freezer food was melting, we had a big cookout in the cul-de-sac in front of my house. People who were normally too busy to talk, or in some cases even meet, were suddenly all in this together, finding fun and a way to relax in the midst of the trauma. I was introduced to “spaghetti tacos” by the neighborhood kids and all sorts of games. I found, once again, the surprising truth that in tragedy, people connect in ways they never had before. And there was grace.

As I was sitting there one night in the neighborhood watching the kids play after we all ate together, I kept coming back to the phrase in Luke’s version of the walk to Emmaus story: “And he was known in the breaking of bread.” And he was.

In Remembrance of April 27 Tornadoes

As we approach the first anniversary of April 27, when 63 tornadoes ripped through Alabama last year, I would like to share again a picture I took and posted last year, with my friend's permission.

This is my friend Dorothy Ann, who was pastor of Ford's Chapel United Methodist Church, gazing into what was their original, historic chapel and perhaps the oldest Methodist sanctuary building in the state. I remember seeing her standing there in a surreal moment, as if searching for something.

It was a potent moment to be there when she and the faithful people of Ford's Chapel were processing all this. It was as if time stopped, and in the stillness she was listening for the voice of God.

I thought about Mary, lingering around the garden of the tomb wondering where Jesus' body was. The people in Harvest, Alabama learned what Mary learned that day.

Jesus had risen. He was already there and quite alive in their midst, calling their name. God is a God who rises, and we too will rise.

My Ash Wednesday Prayer

This morning, I participated for the first time in an Ash Wednesday morning "come and go" imposition of the ashes. The space at the church was so holy and prayerful and vibrant.

Between the times people were coming in for prayer, I had the blessing of my own prayer time and journaling. What pregnant and powerful space for meditation. I contemplated how much I, too, need deep healing and grace. There is a stubborn place of despair within me that I go back to from time to time, as if I am still a little boy crying out in anxiety and pain.

I am so utterly human, and Ash Wednesday is all about being human. I composed this prayer for Ash Wednesday.

Draw me close to your heart, Lord Jesus ...
    Draw me close to your heart, Lord ...
        Draw me close to your heart ...
            Draw me close to you ...
                Draw me close, too ...
                    Draw me close ...
                        Draw me.