One of the fun things I did with our children when they were younger was to make up stories together. Our oldest son, Nathan, seemed to enjoy it the most. It started one night when he was a preschooler, and he asked for a bedtime story. I was all for reading books with our kids, but Nathan preferred books that weren’t really “stories.” He liked books about how things worked (trucks, helicopters) or about nature (a great topic, unless it was one of his favorites about parasites…). I longed to share actual stories with him. So, one night as I lay down with him at bedtime, I explained that we were going to make up a story together; I’d say one sentence, then he could say the next. We’d take turns until we’d created a whole story, together. Let me tell you, it was a wild ride. That child had an imagination. This became part of his bedtime routine, and some nights we laughed so hard I had tears streaming down my face.
In order for this team storytelling to work, a couple of things were required of us. We each had to be willing for the next sentence in the story to be different than we would have expected. In other words, we had to take the sentence offered by the other and figure out how to run with it; no arguing or contradiction that the next line was not what we would have wanted or predicted. Secondly, we each had to relinquish control over the final outcome of the story. By agreeing to tell the story together, we were allowing for the fact that the end would be something neither of us could have predicted. In reality, these stories Nathan and I made up together rarely actually came to an end. Most nights, I finally had to say, “Enough! Bedtime!” as we both looked forward to starting a new story together the following evening.
It occurs to me that this is a lot like what we do together as a church. We share in creating the story of our congregation, as we seek to be part of the Greatest Story. Sometimes we get bogged down in the “mechanics” of how things work, and we have to find new ways to be creative and to tell new stories. No one of us can create or dictate the best “story” of our congregation. We have to enter into that work together, each one of us contributing, and taking what is offered by the other and figuring out how to “run with it” and move our story forward. By sharing in the creative work, each of us gives up a certain measure of control over the final outcome of our story. In reality, the story of Hebron Church and its place in the life of the larger Church of Jesus Christ never truly ends. Each generation takes up the task, creating and moving our congregation’s story into the future, as we seek to be faithful to the call of our loving Lord.
With prayers for your journey,
I am a big fan of preparation. When I was younger, I used to procrastinate. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because I wanted things that I did to be “perfect” and so whatever task I faced seemed intimidating. Perhaps you know what that feels like. But through the years of various work experiences and child-rearing, I learned how much better it felt to tackle things quickly, to break larger tasks down into smaller jobs in order to get things done, and to allow for “good enough” instead of “perfect.” Even though life brings unexpected events that require thinking-on-the-spot, the more prepared we are for other aspects of our lives, the better and more calmly we can respond to surprises.
Sometimes life is just really full, though, isn’t it? We pass through weeks and months when there is so much to do, that we struggle to meet all the demands we face. Even with our best efforts, we may come up short and find ourselves with little time to prepare for something important. I’ve found in those moments, that if I’ve been faithful with my time to the best of my ability, God is faithful to meet me with help in those moments of need, if I ask. God sometimes surprises me with moments of unusual clarity and unexpected assistance when I am forced to work “on the fly.”
One of the most memorable children’s sermons I ever heard was one that was created “on the fly.” It was given by a busy college student who had responsibility for the children’s sermon one morning at a church I served, and who had not had time to prepare. He came to church that morning without any ideas. I don’t recommend being in this position! Being habitually unprepared for important responsibilities is not honoring to God or to those we serve. But in this case, it was an emergency. He asked God for help. Then he took a piece of paper, drew a large stick man, and grabbed a flashlight.
When the children gathered at the front of the church, he talked to them about the light of God that comes to us through Jesus Christ. He held up the picture of the stick man on the piece of paper and said, “This is me.” Then he switched on the flashlight behind the paper, so that the light shone through the stick man. He said, “This is the light of God in me.” It was brilliant, and the kids got it. So did the grown-ups. He turned off the flashlight and said, “Without Jesus, there’s no light in me.” Then he turned the flashlight back on and said, “With Jesus, there’s light in me that shines on others.”
I’ve never forgotten that children’s sermon. Sometimes when life and faith seem complicated and difficult, I remember that simple message, and I ask myself, “Is my flashlight on?” Of course, if the Holy Spirit dwells inside of us, then the “flashlight” is always “on.” But we often block the light by our attitudes or our behavior, particularly during times of stress. We need to ask, in the midst of the planning and the doing of busy times, “Can people see the light of God shining through me?” If they can’t, then how can I clear the way? It may be as simple as showing grace to a spouse or a child or a parent, or extending kindness to a harried store clerk, or even just stopping to appreciate what’s right in front of us at that moment.
As we enter this Advent season, I hope you will pause from time to time to ask yourself, “Is my flashlight on?” “Can people see the light of God shining through me?” Then let God help you clear the way for His light. You may be surprised at what He will do.
With prayers for your journey,
As I'm writing this, we are just a month away from the beginning of Advent. It won’t be long before we’ll be seeing Christmas greenery on our neighbors’ doors, holiday commercials and movies on television, and Christmas cards in our mailboxes. Are you ready? Neither am I! But it will be here, just the same. One of the challenges we face as people of Christian faith is keeping our focus in the right place during the Advent season. The word “advent” connotes the coming of something important. In the case of our Christian Advent season, we are anticipating the arrival of God incarnated – God, made flesh – in the person of a tiny baby whose name was Jesus. Rather than a time of pre-celebration of Christmas, Advent is meant to be a time of waiting and preparation. Our Orthodox brothers and sisters even undertake a “nativity fast” during Advent, abstaining from much of the food and drink that we take for granted as part of our celebrations leading up to Christmas Day.
Years ago, I heard a story about a little boy who is now a young man. This boy had learned from someone at church that because Advent is a time of waiting and preparation, the baby Jesus should not be placed in the family’s creche or nativity scene until Christmas Day. So, he went home and took the baby Jesus out of his family’s manger scene and hid it. He hid it so well that no one could find it, and he refused to divulge its location until Christmas morning, when he returned the baby Jesus to his place in the manger. I can’t think about “looking for Jesus” or “seeking Jesus” without remembering this story, which always makes me smile. Sometimes it is the youngest among us who actually “gets” what the Advent season is all about.
During worship in the month of November, we’ll be looking at three gospel stories about people who wanted to see, touch or know Jesus. The first is from Luke’s gospel; the story of Zacchaeus, a tax collector despised by his peers but loved and called into repentance by Jesus. The second is Mark’s telling of the woman who sought merely to touch the garment of Jesus to receive healing, but who was called out and recognized and blessed by Jesus. The third story is from John’s gospel, about a Pharisee who comes under cover of darkness to have a conversation with Jesus. Then on the last Sunday in November, which is Christ the King Sunday, we’ll look at a parable of Jesus from Matthew’s gospel often referred to as “the judgment of the nations,” in which Jesus makes clear what it really means to love and serve him.
It’s my hope that as we consider these stories of real people who sought and encountered the Jesus who walked among them as God-made-flesh, our hearts will be made more ready for the season of waiting called Advent.
With prayers for your journey,
“Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:16-17, NRSV)
A pastor friend of mine who works in another state recently shared an experience that occurred during the Lord’s Supper at his church. In the congregation he serves, communion is taken by small groups gathering around the table in turns and passing the communion elements to one another. This pastor encourages each person, as the elements are passed, to say, “This is the Body of Christ” and “This is the Cup of Salvation,” or other appropriate words of welcome and grace. Young children are included in this, so that they learn the practice and the language of the Lord’s Supper.
On a recent Sunday, it so happened that a four-year-old girl was positioned to pass the communion bread to a 90-year-old who was standing beside her. She knew she was supposed to say something as she passed the bread. This little girl looked at the wizened elder beside her and pronounced, “You are a child of God.” As my pastor friend described it, “Everyone melted.” “This child had heard herself called this so many times, that it was what she wanted to say at the table, because those words meant something to her.” The pastor saw this as a testimony to the fact that what we do and say in regard to the children in our midst, really does matter. Not only does this little girl already know herself to be a child of God, but she understands that it’s true as well for those of us who are no longer “children,” no matter how old we may be.
The 16th century reformer Martin Luther, who struggled so mightily with the concept of grace, is said to have placed his hand on his head every morning to remind himself of his baptism; to remind himself that his salvation came only from the grace of God in Christ, and not through any worthiness of his own. One of the greatest of the Protestant reformers needed to remind himself each day that he was wholly dependent upon God, as a child is dependent on the care and discipline of a loving parent. When you and I acknowledge the love and mercy of God in Jesus Christ, we begin to understand the glorious privilege of being grafted onto the Body of Christ as part of the family of God. We are received into the family, not because we are worthy, but because we are needful, and willing to acknowledge that need before God.
How would your days be different, if you started each one of them by reminding yourself that you are – before and above all else – a child of God? How would your relationships with others be different if you reminded yourself daily that every person you encounter – no matter how broken or imperfect – is also a “child” who is deeply desired in the family of God? “Let the little children come to me,” Jesus said. “For it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.”
With prayers for your journey,