Several years back, I traveled back to my hometown in The Tri-Cities, Washington to bury my father’s ashes.  I wasn’t feeling like my best self.  Suddenly, with my mom gone as well, and being an only child, I felt like the “last survivor.”  I questioned my life, my worth, AND my “self”.

While there, I got to visit my former High School, thanks to some gracious teachers, I got a tour, walked around familiar halls and passages, remembering things I had long forgotten.  It was a new school when I attended, it didn’t look so new now.

I walked around feeling old, looking at the “children” who wandered the halls and wondering if I ever looked that young.

I turned into the familiar MUSIC BUILDING and walked into a new hall that led to the familiar CHORUS ROOM, where I spent many hours.  A girl I assumed was a student, was looking at a painting on the large wall.  I turned also to look and to my amazement, it was a song I wrote, “SCARLET & GOLD”.  

Because the school had been new when I attended, there were some things the building and school didn’t have when we started attending.  Each graduating class would “gift” something back to the school – and at that time, the gifts were things not included in the original building budget.  My class, the class of ’76 gave an electronic scoreboard for the gym.  The next class commissioned me, already a songwriter, for an ALMA MATER, which the school didn’t have yet.  There on the wall was my song.

I started feeling a little better about myself as I looked at the wall painting of my lyrics and melody.

The girl turned to me and said (since she saw I was a visitorl)

“This is our ALMA MATER.”
“Thanks, yes, I saw that,” I replied, “but there’s a mistake in that part of the lyric.” I said as I pointed down to the lower part of the painting where the error was.
“Really?” she asked (with a look that said, “Who do YOU think you are?”) “How do YOU know?”
I said, indicating the name on my VISITOR BADGE and my name on the wall,

“I wrote it.”

Her expression was what I would have if I had suddenly run into Abraham Lincoln; pleasantly shocked, but mostly because I thought he had been dead for quite some time.

Then she whispered reverentially, “Really?”
“Sure enough.” I said.
“Well I suppose you ought to know.  Wow, we sing this all the time and would’ve never thought I would have met, or talked to, the writer!  That makes a lot of difference; knowing the writer and not just the song.”  

Then, she said, “I’m still not sure that’s a mistake.” Pointing to the lyric we were looking at.  She then smiled, gave a little wave, and books in arms, moved on.

What?!

She was standing beside the writer, who pointed out the lyric and the mistake…THE WRITER, ME…who remembers hand-writing the song, who has sung the song, who KNOWS (if anyone would) what is wrong and what is right with the song.  I wasn’t at all angry, just stunned.  At that moment, she felt her OPINION carried the same weight as the “TRUTH”. 

I’ve told this story before, in a BLOG, but the last time I told it I left out her final comment because it wasn’t part of the lesson. However, recently this memory has returned to me WITH her “last line”.  I’m seeing, and reading, SO MANY people who also believe their OPINIONS (unaccredited) carry as much weight as easily verified facts and truth.  

It’s like saying, “Since I disagree with this, it must not be true.”

I suppose this is where our current time and place has gotten to…but God has been dealing with this for all time.  I thank Him for HIS patience and mercy.

A recent conversation with yet another person voicing a “unaccredited” opinion about a “credentialed truth” made the frustration-futile-anger level in me to rise…and then I heard the quiet, calm, voice of the Spirit.

The Spirit of Jesus took me back to the very beginning of today’s story – the part where my OPINION of myself was low.  That whole time, when I was low, THE SPIRIT was trying to break through.  In every corner of that trip the SPIRIT was showing me how loved I was by my parents, friends, family, and community – showing me that my life mattered…I, of course, didn’t want to listen…my opinion of myself was standing in the front. 

Then THE SPIRIT said, “My TRUTH carries more weight than YOUR OPINION…especially when it comes to your view of yourself.” 

I find when it comes to self-knowledge, self-identity, and self-esteem, humans sabotage their lives.  We forget that GOD creates by “fiat” – He speaks it, and it is made. He speaks and IT IS so.  He speaks and when He says, “You are MY child.  You are loved.  You are worth dying for.  You are the greatest creation I have made.”  those words aren’t His opinions, they are fact.  They are truth.  And our OPINIONS do not carry the same weight against His facts, and His TRUTH.

It’s not an easy lesson to learn, especially during these times, we are tested every moment of every day.  But if no one says it to you today…listen to the SPIRIT of TRUTH:

You are God’s child.
You are loved.
You are worth dying for.
You are the greatest creation He has made.

And, thanks to God , whatever you think of yourself is nothing by an “unaccredited opinion”. It doesn’t have enough weight to stand up against HIS Truth about you.

Beethoven is not one of my favorite composers.  I don’t dislike his music, it’s just not my favorite…but oddly, he IS one of my favorite people, aside from his music.  I learned quite a bit about him in college, we spent an entire semester researching, learning, getting to know old Ludwig.  I also found out so much more about him in a book by Russel Martin in 2001: “BEETHOVEN’S HAIR” (highly recommended if you haven’t read it…here is the link for ordering it on AMAZON: Beethoven’s Hair: An Extraordinary Historical Odyssey and a Scientific Mystery Solved: Martin, Russell: 9780767903516: Amazon.com: Books)

But one interesting “Beethoven thing” happened in college.  I attended a small art conservatory on a hill in Seattle, filled with the greatest combination of people, art, and nightlife.  There was an older man who was seen frequently around the school neighborhood.  His hair reminded me of photos of Einstein, he wore a trench coat, always.  He carried around a portfolio, which I later saw filled with handwritten music manuscripts.  He appeared to have a “girl-friend”, about his age (late 50s?…it’s hard for me to remember now because when I was 21 everyone older than me seemed to be ancient) who would pretend to meet him for the first time at a bus stop (we witnessed this often) and they would strike up a conversation as if they had never met.

In any case, one morning I walked into the front door of the school and into the office…to see him bending over the copy machine making copies of the hand-written music in his well-used satchel.  The secretary noted the look on my face and pulled me outside the door.

“Have you not met Ludwig?”

“That guy’s name is Ludwig?  No, I haven’t.”

“We don’t know what his actual name is, but he believes he is Ludwig Beethoven.  He comes in and the President of the school has authorized him to use the copy machine whenever he wants to copy his music.”

“He thinks he’s Beethoven.”

“Yup.” 

She was right…he did, and everyone just went along.  Partly proven by an event that happened just the next week.

The school had a small choral ensemble, and we were prepping a performance of a Beethoven piece, “CHRIST ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES” (SIDE NOTE: our Chancel Choir has sung the “HALLELUJAH” from that work) and our conductor informed us, at rehearsal that day, that a special guest would be coming into class that day to “give us notes” on performing (wait for it) HIS piece…guess who?!

I was REALLY looking forward to this.

He walked in the door and everyone stood. That’s right EVERYONE stood.  Our conductor welcomed him, introduced him, and gave him the floor.

Graciously, warmly, and lucidly, “Ludwig” smiled, began informing us of his “vision” for the piece, finishing by opening up the time for questions, while reminding us to speak up…since he was going deaf.  

Shockingly, our conductor asked the first question, and “Ludwig” answered astutely. I have to say, everyone “played along”, our conductor never indicated in any way that he didn’t believe this man wasn’t Beethoven.  And as for “Ludwig”, I think the actual Beethoven would’ve approved of his answers and demeanor.

Were we cruel or loving to “Ludwig”?

I ask that, as a BELIEVER & FOLLOWER, to see what you think?  Because we, in the chorale, propagated his “untruth”.  We played into his “delirium”.  We pandered to his “illusion”.  Was that appropriate and fine?  As far as I know I was the only person in the room who identified as “Christian”, but I have to say: I was SO impressed by the love shown to this man…and must add that moment to all the times I have learned more about Christian behavior from non-Christians than from people who identify as “Christian”.

What I learned was: “Truth” (in the life of a BELIEVER & FOLLOWER) should always be defined through the filter of love.  Was it more important to make sure he understood he was not who he thought he was OR important to make a “relationship connection” with him?

I have acquaintances (who identify as “Christian”) who believe we should’ve prayed over him and his mental healing.  I have acquaintances (who identify as “Christian”) who would’ve at least believed we shouldn’t call him “Ludwig” (because that’s not really his name) or continued to let him use the copy machine because that’s not really “loving him”…it’s only helping him continue to live a “lie”.

That is a sad truth for me because I don’t think Jesus said, “the facts shall set you free.” I think He said, “the Truth will set you free”, and Jesus (“the Way, THE TRUTH, and the Life”) repeats the same command over and over, to the point of His death: “love one another”.

And this is TRUTH: Relationships are the only currency you can take with you.
TRUTH: “consider others greater than yourself…”
TRUTH: no matter whom HE (“Ludwig”) identified as, MY business was, and is, to show him kindness, an act of love. 

And MY business was to know that whatever was going on in his brain was NONE of MY business.

I learned the truth about acceptance of others, no matter what, without compromising Jesus who lives in me…from people who took him for who he said he was.

“Ludwig” reminded us that day that “CHRIST ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES” was not a “concert piece” but a sacred one.  That it should be treated and sung as a sacred work: it was not about RELIGION (he told us), it was about the person of JESUS.  That person who, on the Mount of Olives, cared more about us then Himself.

 “Sing,” Ludwig said, “as if you owe Him your life.”

I never did actually learn his real name, but that year I heard again the lesson that LOVE is the greatest thing, and THE TRUTH certainly does set you free…and I learned it from a broken vessel…just like me.

After the 16-hour drive to Florida (and because it was long overdue), it was time for “Aubergine” to be refreshed with some new oil. So, we went to the local “get oil for your car” place and pulled up. It was only slightly busy on a sunny Monday, and I was second in line. The place was staffed with an efficient bunch of young men and women who seemed to know exactly what they were doing. Now, I need to say that the world of automobiles is a world where I am an alien. I usually cannot tell one car from another, and I’ve never been interested in learning. Car races baffle me, as to why they are interesting…so I’m always just a little “out of my depth” in any place where I am surrounded by people who know cars.

As I said, I was second in line, when suddenly I realized that, as new as “Aubergine” is to me…I had never popped the hood. Panic started in my gut and rose to my heart as I felt under the dash for where the lever to the hood should be. 

“Is THAT the lever?” “No, maybe THIS is.” “What, what is THAT?”

I was doomed to look like a “non-car-moron”, less of a man, or simply “old”. Of course, I couldn’t SEE any labels down there, and the days of bending low enough to look (without opening the door and sharing with the waiting drivers on either side of me that I certainly shouldn’t be out on the road if I can’t even find the hood lever-thing) are long past.

Then I remembered: “This is why God created the interwebs!”

I got my trusty iPHONE and found what I was looking for. My masculinity was (somewhat) preserved, along with my suppressed youth.

“Why did I panic about such a small thing?” I asked myself. And then I answered myself, “Because I usually practice anything and everything before I have to do it in public.” 

PRACTICE. A great word which might mean “rehearsing till performed” OR simply “the ACT of doing something”. PRACTICING is something I have been doing all my life – starting with piano, of course, but then with all social situations which did not come naturally to me. But it wasn’t just about practicing. It was practicing so that when the time came for me to do whatever, I would look as if whatever it was I was supposed to do…looked natural, and like I had done it for years. For that very reason, to this day, it is not pleasant for me to practice in front of anyone else…I like people to believe I simply KNEW how to do…(fill in the blank).

My parents hardly ever were present when I practiced (except in the first few years of my piano lessons…when they thought they needed to monitor my practice time). In fact, they knew I was taking voice lessons in High School but only first heard me sing when my voice teacher called them to ask if they knew I was in a regional contest (they did not) and told them they should attend the contest. I’m glad they did, because I won…and that was the beginning of a lifelong vocation/avocation.

Anyone watching me practice would see me make mistakes, start over, etc. They would, in short, see that I’m not as remarkable as I would like everyone to believe. To this day, I not only research and write, but I practice my sermons in private as well. I would like everyone to think that I simply get up and talk off the top of my head…but in reality, it’s taken several hours, many edits, and some corrected mistakes, to get there. I NEED that practice, I NEED those mistakes, and I also need to be honest about what it takes…because it’s all a part of the road to get me to the place where I can “perform” whatever task it is that needs performing.

The lessons I learned in the moment in time at the “get oil for your car” place are this:

• The point and goal of PRACTICING (as “rehearsal”) is to do the right thing, perform the piece as well as one can, to do the task by learning how to do it correctly. The point is NOT to make oneself look good/better than anyone else. Building up one’s ego is a slippery slope that leads eventually to disaster. Doing and performing something for others builds up relationships and communities. Paul stresses the difference between using Spiritual gifts as a means to make ourselves feel superior, as opposed to using Spiritual gifts to build EVERYONE ELSE up. (I COR 12:21-25).
• Practice IS as necessary as “putting on the armor before it’s needed” (EPH 6:13) and not waiting until the battle starts…practice each day with your armor on!

“Old habits die hard.” (Ben Johnson, 1616) is a true phrase, yet I still panic…not because I can’t open the hood of my car, but I panic because I think I’ll look like a fool in the face of others. I practice in private, not necessarily because it’s the best way to practice (after all, play rehearsals are VERY public, in front of one’s peers/actors) but because I may look like a fool in the face of others.

God says that “practicing” our faith is indeed something we all need to do. But our faith, as I say often, is not academic, but action. It is not theoretical but actual. To “practice” our faith REQUIRES someone else present…I will have to PRACTICE in front of someone else and risk looking like a fool…especially if I believe that at the core of my faith is the directive of Jesus and His Father to “love as I have loved you” (JOHN 13:34-35). That action of practice requires a “someone” on whom I give love.

But “practice” is not the same as “performance” – practice will not always be “perfect”. We will fail, but we do it again and again until it’s correct…that’s practice…in front of others (even risking looking like a fool…because when we say YES to Jesus we also give him our ego).

To do the right thing at the right time requires skill and practice. To behave like the King we represent requires skill and practice. We practice publicly, and sometimes the “rehearsal” turns out to be the “performance”, in the Kingdom…but our teacher/coach is always there to guide, to lift, to show by example and to encourage us to “get up” when we fall.

“Though a righteous man falls seven times, he will get up, but the wicked will stumble into ruin.”

PROVERBS 24:16

“Not that I have already reached the goal or am already fully mature, but I make every effort to take hold of it because I also have been taken hold of by Christ Jesus.”

PHILIPPIANS 3:12

“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”

II CORINTHIANS 12:9

I saw an interesting “post” on the internet a while back: “The 38 Most Haunting, Abandoned Places On Earth”.  I decided to scroll through these beautiful (and yes, haunting) photos of everything from abandoned asylums (creepy) to old subway stations, churches (one with the chairs still standing in rows and an infant’s coffin still in its place next to the altar).  All in all, each photo begged for a story.  Then I came to Photo number 22…an old ocean liner, wrecked, beached and rusted…but still somehow beautiful with the waves crashing near it.

Then I read the caption: “Wreck of the SS AMERICA – Fuerteventura, Canary Islands”.  The SS AMERICA was an American ocean-liner that, in the 50’s, sailed from New York to Europe and back, as part of the old “United States Lines”.

A few months after I was born (1958) my father returned to Frankfurt, Germany, where he was a part of the Army Band.  My mother and I stayed in Richland, Washington until the end of July 1959 when we boarded a train from Washington State to New York City…Pier 86 on West 46th Street, to be exact.  And there we boarded the SS AMERICA and sailed to Bremerhaven.  We sailed Tourist Class, sharing a stateroom with another mother and her young daughter.  My Mom kept a bit of the memorabilia and so I’ve always known about this ship, and our time aboard.  We sailed (as opposed to flying) because of my Mom’s fear of flying (she only flew once, that I know of, and that was our return trip to the States…because there was no room on the liner when we were to depart…they drugged her up).

It was on board this ship that I learned to walk…with the aid of the Cabin Steward and some of the crew.  This ship holds a special place in my life and my heart…now a shipwreck at the Canary Islands, home to fish and a beautiful photographer’s model of “haunted abandonment”.

We have recently sung: “Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?…”  And the question might be: What is the good of “remembering”, when those significant things of our past have become nothing but skeletons and memories? 

There IS some good to looking back, and like everything, there is some bad as well.  I’m a bit sad to see the hull of what was once a “majestic lady on the seas”, and one that had a place in MY history, abandoned and decaying.

On the other hand, God speaks of “memories” in terms of strengthening the present day.  And in those terms I can look on this photo and remember that Mom had a great time aboard, and I learned how to walk (undoubtedly fostering my love of cruising in the Caribbean).  I can thank God that we traveled alone across the country on train and then across the Atlantic without trouble, and in fact MADE new friends along the way.  I can thank God that the SS AMERICA gave 54 years of splendid service to families like mine.  There should be nothing bitter about those kinds of memories…and God understands that some things are best forgotten…and that is why He promises, when we ask, to forget the times we hurt Him, abandoned Him, made stupid, stupid mistakes, and turned our backs on Him and our birthrights.

God REMEMBERS His promises/covenants even when we forget, and He asks us to remember the times when He rescued, saved, healed, fought…for us. (EX 13:3…example) When we remember THOSE times, we can feel the power of faith surging back through our needy limbs.  God will never forget us or our His love for us (IS 49:14-16).

How then should WE live?  The answer is obvious and simple.  (PHIL 4:8) Don’t expect to be happy if you constantly think of the “sad” and the ”bad”. Don’t expect to be at peace if you dwell on discontent.  “Think on…” and remember the things that give you strength TODAY.  Life moves on, the universe is expanding daily, people change…God, in His own way, has “moved forward” so that He can meet us where those things that are new to us exist.  This is a new year, and yet ANOTHER CHANCE to turn and walk in a different direction…let the good things of the past empower you to walk forward.

The flip side, and the difficult side, is to do with ourselves what God does by forgiving our imperfections and sin (PS 103:12).  God forgives and forgets…sometimes we don’t.  We don’t forgive others and more often, we don’t forgive ourselves.  Remembering all of the wrong things one did, all of the mistakes one made makes one depressed, cynical and angry…often filled and motivated by regret.  This is where the new year raises her head again…turn around, walk forward…you are not who you were, and YOU and GOD define how your past dictates your future…God won’t force the issue.  Don’t expect your sins and indiscretions to be forgiven if you don’t ask Him, and don’t expect God to take care of any “repair work” that you need to make in your relationships with others, just because HE’s forgiven you.  But you CAN move forward.

No one sails on the SS AMERICA now…but it is obvious to me that many people go nowhere because they’ve “stayed aboard the shipwreck”…thinking their past defines their future.

Whatever it is in 2023 that you need to do…do it.  God has promised His power, through the “Breath of God” to strengthen you in any Godly purpose…and His people are standing beside you almost every week, at least.  And in case you need a little reminder of exactly what CAN be done…remember the good things, the true things, the beautiful things that God has already done.

My parents always said they knew I’d eventually work in the theatre.  They knew from the moment they got in the car with me after my first “theatre experience”, because I wouldn’t stop talking about it, and talking about it, and talking about it.

My Dad had been discharged from the Army and we were returning to Washington State, from Frankfurt Germany.  We had flown (via military plane) to New York, where we picked up our VW Beetle to drive across the country back to our home in Richland, Washington.  On the way, we stopped and saw family and friends. One family, Army friends who had also been recently discharged from Frankfurt, had moved back to Kansas City, where they were from and where we visited.  One magical night they took us to STARLIGHT THEATRE, a musical Amphitheatre, still active (since 1950).  It was there I saw my first ever theatre performance, it was a live presentation of THE CAROL BURNETT SHOW.  I was hooked.

That moment sealed my fate.  It was everything: lights, set, costumes, music, dancing, laughter.  And I talked and talked about it.  Dad built me a small theatre stage where I could design sets and set my “action figures” in various roles…he thought that would shut me up, it didn’t.  Any time I heard about a theatre event, anywhere, any time, I forced my parents to take me.  And I never stopped telling everyone about it.

I couldn’t help it.  That experience was life-changing, formative.  No one had to ask me about it, I would gladly start the conversation.  It drove my parents insane.

The tables were turned however, when I made my professional opera debut.  Opera was, to my parents, the ultimate art form, we listened and watched opera on TV all my life.  When I made my debut with Seattle Opera it was, for my folks, the same as if some other parent were to see their child pitch for the majors the first time.  And my parents couldn’t stop talking about it – it drove me insane.

When I think about that moment in Kansas City, it reminds me of the Bethlehem hills shepherds.  First, they saw the greatest show on earth: an angel choir and soloist – prepared and performing solely for THEM. Then they saw the “star” of the show, the Baby Himself.  The scripture says they couldn’t help but tell everyone about the event.  It was life-changing, it was formative.  No one had to ask them about it, they willingly volunteered the information because the experience filled them so much that the words poured out.

I’m a believer that one can’t “go and tell” unless they have “come and seen”.

I believe if God has truly changed you, if you have witnessed a miracle, if you have suddenly turned around and started going in the direction of life – you can’t help but talk about it.  Likewise, if you’re not talking about it, you’ve either never really experienced it, or have forgotten.

Experiences, like meeting Jesus for oneself and suddenly experiencing things through HIS eyes, ears, heart, and mind, are life-changing, formative and so fulfilling that one cannot help to pour out the words.  One cannot help but live gratefully because of the miracle that touches anyone who “comes and sees, goes and tells”.

LUKE 2:15-20
When the angels had left them and returned to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go straight to Bethlehem and see what has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.”

They hurried off and found both Mary and Joseph, and the baby who was lying in the feeding trough.   After seeing them, they reported the message they were told about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.   But Mary was treasuring up all these things in her heart and meditating on them.   The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had seen and heard, just as they had been told.

MATTHEW 28:5-7 5
The angel told the women, “Don’t be afraid, because I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here. For he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples. ‘He has risen from the dead and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; you will see him there.’ Listen, I have told you.” 

Even though I have been retired several years, I recall numerous childhood Christmas experiences. Growing up in the mountains of western North Carolina, I recall traipsing through the mountain behind our house in search of that perfect Christmas tree. One year my brother and I found a perfect little cedar tree. We quickly found out that cedar trees were hard to decorate without getting scratched as we strung the lights and hung the ornaments, so pine or spruce was our choice after that lesson!

After decorating the tree, back into the woods we went to search for those green parasitic clumps called mistletoe that grew on the limbs of oak trees that were now bare of leaves. Since most of the mistletoe was found in the higher limbs, the search often continued to several other oak trees in hopes of finding a clump of mistletoe on a limb that could be reached by safely climbing the tree or throwing a stick in hopes that the little white berries would not fall off. We hung a few sprigs from the ceiling.

Several American holly trees grew on my grandparents’ property. Breaking off twigs that were heavily “loaded” with red berries, we would lay them on the mantle over the fireplace or put them in vases. A touch of natural beauty, indeed!

Several Nandina plants grew in the front yard, and each year several clumps of red- or burgundy-colored berries hung heavily from these bushes. Occasionally just one clump of Nandina berries would create an eye-catching decoration amid some cedar or pine greenery, lying on a mantle or table. Yes, boughs of cedar or pine added that distinctive fresh scent to the whole house.

Making our own swags or wreaths from juniper, pine, hemlock, or cedar for indoor or outdoor decor was time-consuming as the wires needed to be hidden, and any other decoration such as ribbons or ornaments or a string of Christmas lights required patience and skill! Yet, this century-old tradition passed down from the ancient Druids brought its festive touch to our home!

These childhood memories are not mere nostalgia, rather, they are recollections of a time when families used their own resources for decorations…. buying from merchants only lights and ornaments and tinsel.

Most intriguing, however, about these memories is the fact that families brought the outside to the inside of their homes to create an incredible array of stunning beauty and delightful auras! Indeed! These outside resources brought inside also brought a sense of hope, peace, joy, and love!

Bringing the outside inside! What an apt description of the story of the birth and life of Jesus, our Lord! The outside (shepherds, magi from afar) came in to see this “thing that had come to pass.” Even the angels, a heavenly host, came from the “outside” down to earth to proclaim the Good News.

And Jesus, throughout his ministry, was all about bringing the outside in! He included a tax collector and a zealot to be among his chosen inner circle of twelve disciples. He ate at the home of Zacchaeus, He taught that a neighbor was one who truly looked after and cared for another., regardless of “race, religion or creed.” He conversed with the Samaritan woman at the well. He ate with Gentiles, that is, non-Jews. He healed the woman who touched his garment, He spoke from the cross, “Father, forgive them” in regards to those who condemned him.

Need I say more? Our mission, our charge, our purpose, under the Lordship of Jesus, is to bring the outside in!

I am, as I do every Christmas season, reading my favorite Christmas book, Charles Dickens’ “A CHRISTMAS CAROL”.  Through the years I’ve had several copies of this story, one is in a collection of Dickens’ classics, one is in a collection of other Christmas stories, one is on my IPad (backlit with big letters…yeah!), and one (the one I’m reading THIS year) is a beautiful limited-edition leatherbound volume with the 1915 illustrations from English illustrator Arthur Rackham.

No matter what the setting or context, this story continues to amaze and inspire me.  Our own ALLEY THEATRE is currently in rehearsals to  present the production of my script and music once more this season…please make it if you can.

Now, unfortunately, I feel a bit more like “Scrooge” than I do “Cratchit”.  The grinding busy-ness of the season, being kind in the face of a few downright mean, or foolish, people, the aging of my body (which does NOT enjoy the cold), and who knows what kind of weather will be threatening our beautiful week of CHRISTMAS EVE and CHRISTMAS DAY at Central…bah! Humbug! And yet, no matter what kind of season I’m having, Dickens uses his words to reach into my heart and soul to communicate the best of all messages to the “child still hiding inside” this old shell of mine.

The great question of the story for me is how can Scrooge, with all the resources his world can offer, completely miss the SPIRIT of Christmas (while literally being surrounded by “the Spirits” of Christmas – while Tim Cratchit, sick, poor and facing a certain and early death, seems to not only understand, but “embodies” the “Spirit” – the “JOY”?   

And what is that “JOY of Christmas”?

In the story, maybe it’s easier to see what the “JOY of Christmas” is NOT.  When watching Scrooge, one realizes JOY does not come from wealth, or power.  Scrooge has an abundance of both and neither has given him JOY.  You can also see that “memories of Christmas”, though fond and perhaps filled with warmth, love and kindness, are more often a reminder that Christmastime now does not fulfill the memories of what it used to be.  For Scrooge, his past memories of Christmas only filled him with despair at all he had lost or cast aside.

So, what is “The JOY of Christmas”?  At its core, it is the knowledge that our Great God cared enough to love us, and connect to us, through such elaborate and sacrificial means as placing His own Son in this “God-forsaken” world. His Son then “put on our skin”, felt our pain, walked our path – so that we would see God for who He truly is, and trust Him, and follow Him.  We no longer need to fear the grave, we no longer are victims of our circumstance, we are no longer prisoners of our past, our present, or our future.

Tim Cratchit “embodies” that idea: Despite our circumstances, Christmas and its JOY transcend everything.  “Life” is not totally defined by this time and place, but lives beyond this time and place. “Life” is not defined solely by heartbeat and breath.  And JOY is greater than the sum of our surroundings, our memories, and our hopes.  

What finally makes Scrooge happy, what fills him with a JOY that sets him dancing?  GIVING, not just his money, but his time, his presence, his heart.  Because Christmas JOY is “outside” of ourselves, we find the physical manifestation of that JOY is also outside of ourselves.

Isn’t that just like God?  We must GIVE to GAIN.  The percentages will always remain the same, in the Kingdom of God; the more JOY you give, the more JOY you receive, whether it’s smiles, time, talent, cash or love.

“I have come that you might have life…and have it more abundantly”! JOHN 10:10 

“God bless us, every one.” TINY TIM

ADVENT! What a glorious time of the year! But Advent must “get off” on the right foot or the season can become less fulfilling. Let me suggest a beginning point.  

All of us are skeptics. On occasion our skepticism prevents us from getting caught up in fraudulent scams, shady deals, bad investments, and keeps us from becoming gullible to every tale and whim.

But there is a pervasive skepticism that affects everyday life. All we have to do is to listen to one another. Each time we say, “I hope the Colts win” …we are voicing skepticism that it will happen. When we say, “I hope we get a good, much needed rain” …we are voicing a skepticism that it will soon rain. Even when we say, “I hope I get ______ for Christmas”, there is this skepticism that a neatly wrapped gift will contain the desired item. Run that thinking out. Each time we hope for a promotion at work, or a scholarship for college, or finding an affordable house, etc. then we are voicing wishes that may or may not come to fruition. When we think about the future of the Church (all Denominations), we are skeptical that we would be comfortable in a Church a hundred years from now.

To get Advent “off on the right foot” means re-discovering HOPE, which is the theme of the first Sunday in Advent. The Greek word for hope, elpis, in the New Testament does not have any hint of any skepticism, it will come to pass. No wishful thinking allowed! Elpis, hope is rooted in God…The Everlasting, The Unchangeable, The Righteous One…Who chose to be The Loving and Redemptive One by sending His Son, The One Truly Worthy of our Praise and Worship.

Greek mythology tells the story of Pandora’s Box; a jar filled with all the evils possible in this world. The gods entrusted Pandora, their princess, to safeguard this container. Poor Pandora! She had no idea what a little white lie was, let alone the atrocities of war and inhumane treatment of one another. Curious, she lifted the lid. Evils of all sorts infected the world HORRORS! Not a single evil, great or small, could be recaptured and put back in the box.

BUT remaining in the box was ELPIS (Hope). Elpis did not command all evils to return to the box. NO! Rather, Elpis represented the confidence that the gods would somehow overcome the evils….

…so, the Scriptures teach that God overcomes the evils of the world for those who recognize Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior, Apart from Christ one is “without hope (elpis), but in Christ one possesses an ‘imperishable inheritance”, and we LIVE (rest, dwell) our elpis (hope) upon the Grace brought to us by the coming (advent) of Jesus Christ.

Elpis (Hope) is a sure confidence that God is who God says He is, and no suffering through the evils of this world can diminish the confidence that God is victorious over all evils AND the grave!

In Advent, let go of skepticism. What God has promised will happen. No “ifs, ands, or buts!”

Unless we grasp elpis, hope, the rest of Advent can become mere routine with decorations, shopping, and family traditions. Don’t misunderstand. Even as a minister, I, like anyone else, needed a fresh elpis (Hope). That comes on the First Sunday of Advent. After all, Advent is observed annually for that reason!

Next Sunday is PEACE Sunday. And we read, “may the God of Hope fill you with peace”

Then comes a Sunday of JOY! The Apostle Paul (Romans 15:13) declares “May the God of Hope fill you with joy”.

A Sunday of LOVE, and the Apostle Paul (I Cor 13:13) pointedly says, “Now these three remain, faith, hope and love, and the greatest of these is love.”

Did you get “off on the right foot” this Advent? I hope so.

No matter how THANKSGIVING DAY is celebrated at my home (away, home, crowded, or quiet) I really love it.  As was proved THIS year, it doesn’t matter if there are twenty people or two, I will always eat too much.

THANKSGIVING DAY, because of what it is, because it’s a time when I saw my extended family and grandparents (who didn’t live in town), and because it ushers in ADVENT, THANKSGIVING has always been a favorite holiday…since I was a small boy.  Part of that was also because Mom was a really good cook.

There are many memories of Thanksgiving Days past that move to the front of my mind each year about this time…but one of the earliest, and funniest is this:

I was probably about five-years-old when, on Thanksgiving Day, I was walking down the street as we were taking care of some last-minute shopping for the meal (probably).  Coming right at us were two women, dressed in long black dresses and wearing white and black caps.  I couldn’t contain my excitement at seeing, in the flesh, these two figures approach and so I jumped up and down, pointed and yelled at the top of my lungs,

“Look!  Pilgrims!”

They were, of course…nuns.

In my defense:
1. I had never SEEN a nun,
2. I was five-years-old,
3. it was THANKSGIVING…it seemed obvious to me that they were pilgrims.

My Mom said that the good-humored sisters laughed, came to me, stooped down, and chatted.  I was awestruck, and still thought they were Pilgrims. They wished us all a happy THANKSGIVING and went on their way…as my parents attempted to explain to me who they were, and why they weren’t pilgrims…I didn’t get it.

 Now, of course, I understand who they were and what happened…but as a child I only understood what I saw and experienced according to my limited knowledge, wisdom and experience.  Was my conclusion the “truth”?  Well, it wasn’t like I was deceived, all that I saw TOLD me that they were pilgrims. It was only through a little more teaching, and a few more years (which broadened my experience and gave me a bit more wisdom) that I understood TRULY what that experience was…and who those two kind women TRULY represented.

God probably smiles when we come to conclusions about who He is…according to our limited knowledge, wisdom, and experience.  There are, more-than-likely, also times when He doesn’t smile; times when He sees His children declare that, despite their limited knowledge, wisdom & experience, they have concluded once-and-for-all who HE is.

I for one am thankful, this THANKSGIVING/ADVENT, for a church that doesn’t claim to OWN God, but does claim to BELIEVE & FOLLOW Him.  As we all walk together behind our Shepherd, our King, our Jesus, we continue to have our eyes opened, our mind expanded, our faith strengthened by the continuing knowledge, wisdom and experience that He alone can give.  It is a lifetime learning experience that will continue into the next age. Although we should all share with one another the “angles” from which WE have each experienced our great Father, we should never assume that someone else’s different “angle” is WRONG.

We all “see through a glass darkly” (as Paul the Apostle reminds us)…so keep walking, keep learning, keep growing.  Let’s move into the ADVENT SEASON with a continued life of gratitude: thankful for the God of the “indescribable gift” who unfolds knowledge and wisdom to us all, in His time…not ours.

It was a THANKGSIVING MEAL that I first remember my mother saying the words, “You need to try a little of everything that I put on your plate.” Those words were translated by me into, “There is going to be some weird food today, much of which you won’t want to eat.”

Let me set this up. Usually, we had a THANKGSGIVING meal in our home, my earliest memories are of our “A” House (government alphabet homes in a government-built town) where grandpa would travel in from the neighboring town he lived in just a couple of hours away, and my “grandma & grandpa” (really my grandmother’s sister and husband) who lived in town and were ancient, living in a smaller house in the next town, and sometimes people from church (usually also ancient, in my eyes) who had no family in town.  Mom cooked for days, turning into a demonic version of Martha Stewart.

I was familiar with everything on the table, usually: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, some sweet potatoes, homemade rolls, greenbean casserole, a cranberry dish of some sort (either gelled or in a salad) peas and pearl onions, cornbread, lettuce salad, and a variety of pies – all homemade.  Me, and my stomach, were not only familiar with, but looked forward to, this feast every year…and the leftovers that we fed on for days afterward.

The year I’m speaking of, however, was different.  THIS year it was different, however.  There was a new family at church, the dad was a new scientist working where mom worked, and their family was from the south. My mom, who was from the south as well, was looking forward to having a THANKSGIVING she didn’t have to cook for, AND looking forward to some dishes she hadn’t had for a while.

Then, on THANSGIVING DAY, my mother spoke those words to me and I was filled with dread in anticipation of the horrors that awaited: strange vegetables, probably not turkey but some odd southern animal, like possum – dishes that were unidentifiable, etc.

We arrived in time to see the turkey (thank heaven!) being carved. There was another family I knew there, and another one I didn’t know so well (strangers…ugh!).  We sat down at the table after standing around the table to pray. (At home we ALWAYS prayed right after sitting down, what kind of pagan ritual was this…STANDING!?…oh no, the terror was beginning).

Mom sat to my left and therefore received the food before me – which gave her the “power” to place food on MY plate before I had a chance to simply pass over things.

Turkey, stuffing, and potatoes.  Although the dressing had something in it (chestnuts, I discovered later) I had never seen before…all was well…so far.  Then came another dressing made from a base ingredient called “grits”, then what looked like little Barbie doll-sized cabbages. There were beans (Beans…!?) that were called, “black-eyed”…and tasted like they had, indeed, been beaten up.  There was cornbread (I can deal with that).  There was a weird Jello they called “aspic” – it had VEGETABLES in it…VEGETABLES! Egad!

When the “bowls of horror” had ceased going ‘round, mom leaned over to me again and said, “Take a bite of EVERYTHING on your plate or you’ll hear from me when we get home.”  To which I replied, “Why do I have to eat stuff I don’t like?” To which she replied,

“Because we are here at the invitation of the host who made something for everyone. You don’t know whether you’ll like it or not till you’ve tried it, and even if you don’t like it…you’re not the only one at the table.” 

I’ve always said, “Everything I know about worship and church, I learned from my mom.”

Here we are, in a day and age where “personal service” and “customized service” are the bywords of commerce.  Say something out loud in the privacy of your home, regarding something you’re possibly interested in purchasing, and it will immediately pop up every time you turn on your phone, pad, or laptop…seducing you to purchase.

And somehow, that attitude has entered the Church. Many are under the false notion that “worship service” is the same as “personal service” as if the word “service”, whenever related to spiritual matters, refers to us and not God…how WE are served. It’s reflected in our conversation and comments about worship and church: “I’m looking for a church that serves me.” “I’m looking for a church…where I can be fed.”  “I left because it didn’t meet my needs”…and so on.

These all may be legitimate excuses and comments; however, I think it’s always good to be reminded about our priorities. Even when things are going well, when people DO have their priorities in line (as it seems in our own congregation at Central), even when things are done the correct way…we remind ourselves about the priorities, so we stay on the right path, which we are currently on.

Some things my mother reminds us, when it comes to the work of the church, and worship specifically are:

FIRST: JESUS is the host, not us. We are the guests.

SECOND: At the event will be familiar and non-familiar faces. The guests there all have their own stories, come from different places, with different packs to carry, with different journeys to travel, with different preferences – but we are connected by the same thing: THE HOST. JESUS has invited us. JESUS has prepared the event. JESUS presents what HE believes is best for all. (codicil: if every leader involved is doing what THEY are supposed to be doing as well)

And sometimes, even in a heavenly place like Central, we will share together in an experience that is not necessarily customized for us, personally, for an important reason: Christianity is not a “solo event” it is a “community event”.  Christianity is not academic, it is action, it is shared and practiced on those around us….and…to quote Marge Vale (still the greatest theologian I’ve ever met): 

“You try everything and share everything…because we are here at the invitation of the HOST who made something for everyone. You don’t know whether you’ll like it or not till you’ve tried it, and even if you don’t like it…you’re not the only one at the table.”

Give thanks for THE TABLE, provided by THE HOST…for ALL OF US.