The Second War

A recent Smithsonian magazine article, Dolley Madison Saves the Day by Thomas Fleming, reminded me of America's second war of 1812.  We skip over it quickly in school ... noting the burning of many buildings in Washington, D.C. (especially the White House) along with Dolley Madison's courage and Andrew Jackson's timely victory over the British in New Orleans.
The War of 1812 continued for six years. I had forgotten that five New England states seriously considered succession over Madison's conduct of the war. Many adamantly called for President Madison to be  impeached.
Most revolutions are followed by counter-revolutions.  Most change initatives are followed by a period of consolidation or a lack of follow-through. Congress refused to appropriate money that would provide for a national defense ... trusting ill-prepared and equipped state militias to defend the nation. We nearly lost the union.
I suppose it is human nature (read "sin") to relax and avoid responsibility. It is easy to label the problems. It is more difficult to craft a plan of action leading to a productive faithful future. People stand back watching and hoping for people to fail.
I give thanks for leaders who step up and take responsibility for the difficult choices that will bring blessings. I pray for national leaders who will set aside personal self-interest and seek policies that will bless our nation.
In scripture we read how God's people wanted to return to Egypt because the wilderness was full of challenges.  We also read how the team sent by Joshua to spy out the Promised Land came back with a report that the challenge was too great!
Trusting the promises of God is seldom easy but faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. - Hebrews 11:1.  Or as Paul wrote: ... we boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. - Romans 5: 3-5.

Church Work

A quick reading of Acts or the Epistles or Revelation reveals that the early church spent a lot of time and energy trying to resolve quarrels and issues as they sought to live in the Way.
A typical work week in the local congregation brings numerous conversations about issues that on the surface have little to do with the mission of the church. Sometimes I refer to these distractions or interruptions as "church work". I probably use that phrase with an intonation of resignation more than upward lilt to my voice!
I also like to say that it takes a truck load of grace for the church to function effectively and faithfully each day! What is delightfully apparent is that most days, God's grace flows wonderfully through the body of Christ!
This morning will bring people to the church to rearrange altar flowers to be delivered to the homebound; yesterday's offering will be carefully counted; the sick will be visited; children will be cared for; it will be a good day.
Part of our church work in the next few weeks is to prayerfully discuss a proposal to renovate our sanctuary worship space. To move forward will require a very generous commitment from the congregation. The other day a person who is deeply committed to our community ministries and caregiving efforts walked me down the hall.  "I have a plan, she said.  If 100 people will give $1,000 to this project, the rest of the money will come." And then she handed me an envelope, saying: "And here is my contribution!"
Church work. Amazing grace. Every day. Thanks be to God!

The Means of Grace

My father died on a Monday. The day before we were in church. For some reason Dad was sitting on the back pew of the balcony. It was a communion Sunday.  My father was raised Episcopalian by his mother who came from England. I can still remember my father's posture as he approached Eucharist. He was old school ... high church. He also had been taught that it was necessary to be in a right relationship before approaching the altar/table.
Part of the turmoil in the weeks before his death included quarreling with my sister. Dad had not behaved well. Sitting on the back pew of the balcony suddenly reflected the distance between himself and the Lord. It became apparent that dad was not going to receive communion that morning.
I was in seminary.  While watching the pastor [a fine man] serve ... for some reason ... there was something out of order ... my seminarian sensibilities were miffed.  I chose not to receive communion. I stayed on the back pew with my father.
The next day Dad died. In the heartbreaking days of preparing to bury my father, I realized I had missed an opportunity to receive the grace of God.  I realized that I should have implored my father to go and kneel at the throne of grace and partake the blessings of the sacrament.
So often pettiness prevails. So often we deny ourselves what we need most.
It is Sunday morning thirty-five years later. In a while I will be speaking about seeking shalom through covenant community/koinonia.  I will offer the loaf and cup. I pray that no one will deny themselves (for any reason) this sacred means of grace. Come, Lord Jesus, come!

A Scrap of Grace

Thirty-five years ago this week my father died suddenly from a heart attack at age 48. The weeks before his death had been tumultous. He was under pressure at work (we learned later). There was conflict between my father and sister about which we had harsh words. Despite the struggles our relationship was changing. We were beginning to relate more adult to adult. We had more conversations and fewer arguments.
In the days after his death my mother showed me a scrap of orange paper. It was a partial sheet of paper with a pencil sketch of a bonzai tree. Apparently my father intended to paint the tree as a gift for me.
Although I was in seminary preparing to become a pastor, my spiritual journey had led me to serious exploration of Zen Buddhism. My dad thought I was weird. Our worldviews were often in conflict. But that scrap of paper conveyed a desire on his part to connect with the core of my emerging self ... my soul.
It was the best gift my father ever gave me: A father's desire to accept, affirm and love his son. An amazing scrap of grace.