Over the weekend of June 21-22, the Virginia Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church met in Richmond, which meant the pastors were out of town--and they had to go deep in the bullpen and call me up to preach. After some computer troubles, they've posted the link to it on the church website.
It's a little bit of a challenge: I'm exploring why it is, if we have this tremendous gift of new life in Christ, that so many Christians go through life absolutely indistinguishable from anyone else--where's the joy, where's the fire, where's the excitement?
Take a listen and let me know what you think!
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Perspectives
Monday night I heard from a friend of mine who hails from several states away; his teenager that day had taken active steps towards self-harm and threatened to keep at it, so he was at the ER. He spoke harrowingly of a beloved child who that day could not see the love, could only see the darkness and who had "had it" with the darkness and just wanted out. We spoke only briefly, as he had so much to tend to (securing a referral to an adolescent psychiatric facility, juggling paperwork and a distraught teen); we texted; and I so much wanted to be there to do something to help.
The next day, on taking my mom around to various appointments, I learned the twinges in her right leg come from a spinal stenosis that's not severe enough to merit surgery, just fortnightly visits to Centreville for cortisone shots; the fall she sustained from the bed Sunday morning meant a visit to the optometrist; her cat needed food from the vet; and all in all I didn't make it in to the office until after 1, wherein I learned of the various lacks-of-progress in various projects, and generally had a quite frustrating afternoon at the office.
Sometimes I believe God places things in front of us by way of a message. The message of Monday night, interpreted in the light of Tuesday, was, to me, "You might find this frustrating, that's true. But you really don't have it that bad at all, do you? You are blessed; whether you stop to acknowledge it is up to you, but y'know what, you really aren't that badly off."
Garrison Keillor said it well: Thank you, dear God, for this good life, and forgive us if we do not love it enough.
The next day, on taking my mom around to various appointments, I learned the twinges in her right leg come from a spinal stenosis that's not severe enough to merit surgery, just fortnightly visits to Centreville for cortisone shots; the fall she sustained from the bed Sunday morning meant a visit to the optometrist; her cat needed food from the vet; and all in all I didn't make it in to the office until after 1, wherein I learned of the various lacks-of-progress in various projects, and generally had a quite frustrating afternoon at the office.
Sometimes I believe God places things in front of us by way of a message. The message of Monday night, interpreted in the light of Tuesday, was, to me, "You might find this frustrating, that's true. But you really don't have it that bad at all, do you? You are blessed; whether you stop to acknowledge it is up to you, but y'know what, you really aren't that badly off."
Garrison Keillor said it well: Thank you, dear God, for this good life, and forgive us if we do not love it enough.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
"You're Not From Around Here, Are You?"
This last weekend I had the opportunity to participate in the Laity Sunday service at church, and to bring the sermon at the 9:45 and 11:00 services. Here's the sermon I preached at 11--take a listen and tell me what you think!
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Playing Out the String, Forever
Last weekend I spend in Houston with Glenn, my brother-from-another-mother, helping said brother and mother clear out many of Glenn's dad's things. It's been six years since he passed, and Mom has gotten to the point of being ready to part with his extensive collections of superheroes and James Dean paraphernalia; Glenn asked if I would help lift a few boxes, and knowing how much I enjoy (a) spending a weekend with him, and (b) doing so in Houston, I readily agreed.
Among the quintessentially Houston things we did were Texas barbecue at Goode Company on Kirby before an Astros game at Minute Maid on Saturday night. As the 'Stros have now successfully passed 100 losses in the season, the reader will not be surprised to learn they lost to the Angels the night we were there.
Glenn has since posted up his essay on the game and the experience (read it!), as well as several of his always outstanding pictures of the scene; the ones of the Astros legends' jerseys--players I grew up with, heroes of an unheroic team--came out especially well given the amount of my drool he had to scrape off the glass.
His essay notes the futility of being a lifelong Astros fan, and Glenn posits that I'm more a fan simply by dint of distance: it's harder to be as excited when the annual disappointments occur in the same area code. Perhaps he's right. I also see value in my continued fandom as a character lesson for David and Sarah. It's easy to back a perennial winner, to get used to seeing your players in the World Series--or to hop from one winner to another. But our kids learn lessons from the things we do, moreso than the things we say, and there's an integrity to staying true even when your team just flat-out stinks as much as the Astros do. I like to think that it adds to the integrity of what I mean when I tell them that some commitments in life--faith, marriage, choosing to run the risk of pregnancy--really hold lifelong implications, and that even when those things are rough sailing, we stay true.
Glenn's absolutely right that this year's squad is reduced to playing out the string; heck, Jose Altuve was the DH for the night we were there, a night in which no Astros batter had more than a .300 average. Regardless of the quality of play, in each of the (four?) times I've journeyed to Minute Maid, I've had an absolutely terrific time. I cannot adequately describe the sensation of coming "home" to a place that I've never been (whoa, there's a great sermon brewing there on the Kingdom), but that's what it feels like, strolling the mezzanine surrounded by thousands of others in Astros garb..."I am with my people, and they are beautiful," becomes my mantra. And you know what? Local or growing up in the 802, a World Series berth or a hundred losses, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Among the quintessentially Houston things we did were Texas barbecue at Goode Company on Kirby before an Astros game at Minute Maid on Saturday night. As the 'Stros have now successfully passed 100 losses in the season, the reader will not be surprised to learn they lost to the Angels the night we were there.
Glenn has since posted up his essay on the game and the experience (read it!), as well as several of his always outstanding pictures of the scene; the ones of the Astros legends' jerseys--players I grew up with, heroes of an unheroic team--came out especially well given the amount of my drool he had to scrape off the glass.
His essay notes the futility of being a lifelong Astros fan, and Glenn posits that I'm more a fan simply by dint of distance: it's harder to be as excited when the annual disappointments occur in the same area code. Perhaps he's right. I also see value in my continued fandom as a character lesson for David and Sarah. It's easy to back a perennial winner, to get used to seeing your players in the World Series--or to hop from one winner to another. But our kids learn lessons from the things we do, moreso than the things we say, and there's an integrity to staying true even when your team just flat-out stinks as much as the Astros do. I like to think that it adds to the integrity of what I mean when I tell them that some commitments in life--faith, marriage, choosing to run the risk of pregnancy--really hold lifelong implications, and that even when those things are rough sailing, we stay true.
Glenn's absolutely right that this year's squad is reduced to playing out the string; heck, Jose Altuve was the DH for the night we were there, a night in which no Astros batter had more than a .300 average. Regardless of the quality of play, in each of the (four?) times I've journeyed to Minute Maid, I've had an absolutely terrific time. I cannot adequately describe the sensation of coming "home" to a place that I've never been (whoa, there's a great sermon brewing there on the Kingdom), but that's what it feels like, strolling the mezzanine surrounded by thousands of others in Astros garb..."I am with my people, and they are beautiful," becomes my mantra. And you know what? Local or growing up in the 802, a World Series berth or a hundred losses, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Canine Theology
This past Sunday, I had the opportunity to bring the message to the 8:30 service at our church, Sydenstricker UMC. Somebody thought it would be a good idea to record it. Silly. Anyway, I talked about what our new dog has been teaching me about faith. Give a listen, see what you think.
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