Facebook, "Submitting to Be More Vile" and How is Kathy B Like Unto George Whitfield?

First, for you folks from St. J., she knows this is coming!

Because just as George convinced John Wesley to go and preach in the open air (something that just wasn't done by good Anglicans back in the day - to them such a notion was quite tacky), thereby putting both he and message within the domain of the people who would be the backbone of the Methodist movement . . . to which, on April 2, 1740 Mr. Wesley recorded in his journal...

At four in the afternoon I submitted to be more vile, and proclaimed in the highways the glad tidings of salvation – speaking from a little eminence in a ground adjoining to the city – to about three thousand people. The scripture on which I spoke was this: Is it possible anyone should be ignorant that it is fulfilled in every true minister of Christ? The spirit of the Lord is upo n me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor. He hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.

so,

my friend and parishioner Kathy B has gently persuaded me that to reactivate my Facebook account would be a good thing and a way for me to be in touch with my flock.

Now, I know I railed about my previous strange, brief journey in "the" Facebook last Summer, and I still do have some issues about the whole "friend" thing...but she's right, and I'm wrong on this point.

So, I'm swallowing hard, and "submitting to be more vile" and doing this thing.

For good ole JW, he was shocked by how wrong headed his previous bias against going into the field and preaching in the open air to the masses was...I suspect I'll find something of the same thing.

I'm not going to live in that world all the time...

But I'll be around...

I've been evangelized by a good soul...thanks Kathy B!

Oh, and JB, your efforts at persuasion did not impact me in the least!

For Those About to Rock...

I attended my first real concert in 1979 - 30 years ago. It was Peter Frampton.
My first concert was supposed to be a year earlier - Boston, but my folks wouldn't let me go, what with the Memphis firefighter and police strike going on and the National Guard protecting the Bluff City---so I sold my ticket. I posted on this episode in my life several years ago...click here for that sad tale.
Now, fast forward now to 2009.

The venue? FedExForum.

The act? AC/DC.

Whose first concert? My sixteen year old. And of all the people he wanted to go with him???

His old man.

Can you believe that?

Would I have done that? Are you nuts?

Way back when, to go to an AC/DC concert meant you were on the fringe. You have this strange looking guy on guitar who wears shorts, shirt and tie - he's marketed as a devil - (by the way all the red lights you see in the crowd are little devil horns conveniently on sale at the concert - no, we didn't bite) who truly is a master on the guitar - and of course, he's playing a Gibson SG - and it's on fire.

Back in the day, before they really hit, they opened for KISS. So, you put AC/DC and KISS on the same bill, in the 70's, and any Bible-belt "Christian" is pretty darned sure Armageddon is closing in. And who could say it wasn't?

You have lyrics not really even hiding the double entendres - it's just there in your face.

And my 16 year old is there with me...and one of his best friends...who's there with his dad...

And I'm thinking to myself...Cool, but strange, right?

I mean since when did rock become so mainstream?

"Highway to Hell" was what you listen to when you're a preacher's kid and you want to let everybody know..."that holier than thou stuff, that ain't for me."

Being the observer of human behavior that I am, I couldn't help but notice who was in the crowd. Tons of kids even younger than my oldest with their parents - headbanging with such acumen that Beavis and Butthead would be proud.

The other predominant group were those heavily attired in black..leather. Some men and a lot of women. Some could pull that look off and most looked like they were wedged in clothes that they could barely wear 25 years ago.

And there we all were--from various places and stations in life--focused on the stage. Some of us, like me, were not so much tied to what was going on onstage, but more where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with when I first heard those rock anthems.

My experience of the event has to be different than Andrew's.

Truth is, I'm pretty sure I would have never gone had it not been for him. He wanted to share it with me.

And here I was thinking it was me giving him the gift...

Kids, what are you going to do?

Baptismal Joy

In 22 years of appointed ministry (20 of which now counts for Pension credit, and yes, I'm counting), I've had the joy of being of a part of many significant events in the lives of the people I serve.

I've baptized quite a few folks. Babies, children and youth, and adults. I've baptized by sprinkling, pouring and immersion. I've baptized from the church font, in the creek outside the church, in the family pond, and of course, in a 101 degree therapeutic pool.

My youngest baptism was a weeks' old baby. My oldest was a 56 year old man.

Each baptism is a joy. It reminds us all of who we are and in the One who has named us, claimed us and made us Beloved Children of the Divine.

Last Sunday I was honored to baptize an adult, Laura.

The journey that brought her to the font of grace is hers to share, but what was clear to any who observed her at the altar was the joy of something so pure, so profound that it marked her, as surely it did all of us there who shared in the moment with her.

I had met with Laura for some weeks before this benchmark in her spiritual journey. I gave her The United Methodist Church's statement on Baptism, "By Water and the Spirit," When we met days before her baptism she brought it with her and showed me where she had read it, highlighted portions, taken notes...the sister was ready.

It was a beautiful thing to watch her expression through this whole experience. It was "the outward and visible sign of the inward and spiritual grace" that had washed over her.

And as it was with the baptism of Jesus, it happened in our sanctuary, too. Did you hear it?

"This is my daughter," the voice said. "Marked by my love. Pride of my life."

Being there for her moment reminded me that the same voice has claimed me in mine.

Did you hear that, too?

Because if that's true, I want to live my life like knowing that truth matters.

How about you?

Sleepless in Memphis

There's something going on in me right now that I can't quite explain.

And it's a problem.

What with my need to know stuff, thereby maintaining the illusion that I'm in control--to not be in control places me in a perilous state. Those who know me know that about me---I want to be able to explain...everything.

To be sure, there's plenty of life (if not most) that I cannot explain. But stuff that pertains to me? Or those around me? Or the things around which I do my work, live my life? I expect to be more than a little conversant.

One of my many character flaws is how much weight I place on the value of knowing something.

But on this matter, I'm in the dark.

Last week, for three consecutive nights, I got a total of 10 hours of sleep. And don't be fooled, this isn't a 3.3 hours of sleep for each night. Nope, this was 5, then 3, and finally 2.

The 2 hour night was a Monday. I remember looking at the clock (again) at 5 a.m., and then in what seemed only a minute later, it was blaring at me with my 7 a.m. wake up call.

If you've ever had insomnia, you know how it goes. Even if you're tired you've developed such a complex about not having gone to sleep, that guess what? You won't!

I was numb...couldn't think straight...even a bit scared. If the progression of sleeplessness continued, I was looking at no sleep at all.

Why no sleep? Hmmm, I'll come back to that one directly.

I find that I usually exist on 6 hours a night, with the expectation of a 8 or 9 hour night on the weekend. May not be the healthiest pattern, but it is the one I've fallen into for the past several years.

When I was a good bit younger, but at the college and especially the seminary level, 4 hours or less on many occasions was a norm. Being the night owl I was/am, I had extraodinary productivity between the hours of 10 p.m. and 4 a.m.

More than a few seminary papers were pecked out during those hours.

Finish at 4.
Sleep until 7.
In class by 8.

Ahh, those were the days.
I could do that for many days in a row and then crash.

But that was then.

My work, my life, my parenting, the maintenance of my health demands much more than then, and quite a bit more than my "regular" pattern.

A good bit my 10 p.m.-1 a.m. time is catching up on office work. Being able to remote into my office desktop is both blessing and curse.

If not working, that time is reserved for my decompression. Being the creature prone to introversion that I am, some time to just "be" is necessary in my living...or at least that's the pattern I've been following.

So, I work, watch TV, read, surf, something..anything..and my mind is up and running. Then I go to the bedroom, pick up my 7 year old. Take him to his bed, and hop into mine.

Periodic insomnia is not foreign to me. It is my usual pattern, though, that I can fall asleep, but wake up in the night unable to go back.

But not this time. I couldn't even nod off at all.

My current bout of sleeplessness began with that hacking cough/cold that's gone around. That hit on Christmas Day and I lived with it in various states throughout the holiday. Even as I felt better through the day, laying down at night brought the cough.

But that's not all it is.

And I'm not sure what all is going on in me...
Actually I do know some of what's going on, but this is a blog, not a therapy session.

But after three nights...I was desperate. So, after much deliberation, I called "a guy I know."

I don't like to take meds for the heck of it...but I needed something.

"Can I have 1 Ambien?"

I didn't need a bunch...I just wanted to sleep one night.

Well, I have more than one. Sleep, like life is a "phase" thing. And it's going to take a bit of work to develop more healthy patterns. I'm a bit out of phase, but working to change some life habits to be more in balance. And for awhile, I'm using some medicaiton to help me.

Balance...you know, that thing I keep looking for?

Anyway, Tuesday night last week, I was so eager to go to sleep, I went to bed at 8:30 p.m. - and woke at 7 a.m.

Now, I've had the benefit of pain relieved when my back was in really bad shape. I've had headaches ease with proper medication.

Nothing has brought me more relief than 10.5 hours of sleep in one night. In one night I slept more than the previous 3. I felt like Superman that day.

I've not used a pill every night since...but until I'm in a good phase, it's good to know I have it.

And for the first time in more than a little while, I'm sleepless in Memphis no more. Whew!

Reflections on Gaza

Micah is a leader in our city.

He is a person of great insight, compassion, vision and wisdom.

He is the Sr. Rabbi of Temple Israel.

He is also my friend.

I've had the privilege to cultivate a relationship with him over my time at Saint John's. We have lunch together with a few like minded clergy monthly. Together with our spouses, we have joined with a coalition of clergy committed to relationship beyond our roles -just children of God, in whatever way we understand the Divine. We've enjoyed dinner in each other's homes over the past year--a true means of grace for us all.
It is that coalition that came together after the Lester Street tragedy to put the service of healing for the city together.

I trust him. I value him.
And when I get something from him I read it. Always.
I received this Sunday morning. It has to do with the current conflict in Gaza. Other than the news we haven't much to go on when trying to figure out the how? and why? of something like this.

Micah's reflections may not answer or explain everything--but it certainly helped me, and I hope it does you.


Little could I know in planning Temple Israel’s December 21-January 2 journey to Israel that our Memphis delegation would be there for the outbreak of another war.

Our scheduled visit to schoolchildren in Memphis’ sister city - located less than three miles from the Hamas-controlled Gaza Strip – was canceled due to 60 missile hits on Sederot on December 24th alone.

By way of background, Israel gave back the Gaza Strip unilaterally in 2005 to Yasser Arafat’s Fatah party, but within months, Arafat’s more moderate Fatah was overtaken in a bloodbath by a group whose very name - “Hamas” - means “violent crime.” Beyond butchering fellow Palestinians, Hamas has been wreaking havoc on Israel’s western border ever since.

Since we were unable to enter the city, area leaders met with us just beyond Hamas’ missile range at an absorption center for some of Israel’s 30,000 Jewish Ethiopian immigrants. Throughout our journey, we heard the pain Israelis feel for the desperate plight of so many Palestinians. An overwhelming majority of Israelis clearly favor a Palestinian State and giving back even more land for peace. The problem is that the only ones on the other side still standing politically are radical Muslim extremists. Moderate leaders in the Palestinian world are either killed off or too weak to stand up to Hamas who are the real war criminals in this conflict.

Hamas was founded on the principle of three “no’s.” No recognition of Israel’s right to exist; no negotiations with Israel; and no peace.” It is true that with the money received from Iran, Hamas provides some social services and humanitarian relief, but the very existence of Hamas is based on an unmitigated hatred of Israel.

Hamas uses children as human shields and hides its Iranian-supplied weapons in schools, hospitals, and mosques. The newest stockpiles of rockets used when we were there have such long-range capabilities that the number of Israelis in harm’s way has increased from 200,000 to over 750,000 Israeli residents.

With the exception of America – which reacted to Israel’s Gaza operation by labeling Hamas leaders “thugs” who “use terrorism to ignite violence” - international reaction has either been about condemnation or hopelessly naïve.

How should Israel deal with Hamas’ logic of hate? What would any of us do if a terror-based group like Hamas bombarded 4,000 missiles on random residents, including 60 in one day alone?!

The leaders of the Western Negev we met with shared the horror of a completely traumatized community. Once a city of 33,000, the 5,000 Sederot residents able to afford a different life have moved out, leaving behind the poorest and most vulnerable members of the community, especially new immigrants and the elderly.

In these towns bordering the Gaza Strip, residents have only fifteen seconds to find shelter when the sirens go off. Businesses can’t operate. Children are not able to play outdoors. Couples can’t sleep safely in bedrooms and over 80% of the population have post-traumatic stress disorder – from teens who are now wetting their beds from fear, to elderly women who faint each time a siren goes off because of the terror these seniors have witnessed firsthand.

We were in Israel when a senior officer in the air force called the Palestinian residents of a housing complex where advanced weaponry and rocket launchers had been intentionally placed by Hamas. The Israeli commander ordered everyone to leave so that no civilians would get hurt. What did the men in the house do? They called Hamas and moved more mothers and children into the house because they know the kind of society Israel fosters will not target innocent civilians.

Hamas, on the other hand, targets Israeli civilians while hiding behind their own children as human shields.

When a group bent on Israel’s destruction hates other people’s children more than it loves its own, you either allow the cult of death and fear to spread, or you do your best to stop it.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing we witnessed in Israel during wartime was its commitment to glorify life in response to Hamas’ glorification of death.

Reverence for life has always been the Jewish way. When the Nazis decimated 1/3 of the Jewish people, the Jewish response was to make more babies and embrace life. In fact, at the end of World War II, the highest birthrate in the world was in the detention camps where the emaciated survivors of the Holocaust managed to escape the Nazi death machine. In response to Nazi brutality, the Israelis built one of the most advanced democracies in the world, one with no parallel in the Arab world.

We arrived not only in time for Israel’s quest for peace, quiet, and calm; we also witnessed the celebration of Chanukah, which commemorates the miracle of the Jewish people’s survival against all odds. My hope and prayer for 2009 is that the survival of this tiny state the size of New Jersey, with the veneration of life shared by all Americans, will somehow prevail over the regime of death and martyrdom in Gaza.

I also pray that people of all faiths – whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, or any other holy path – will unite to bring about the sanity, civility, acceptance and peace emblematic of the One in whose image we were all created.

Me too, brother.
Me, too.

Christmas Pride & Joy

A little Christmas Card for you...

My kid's debut... Kinda Alfalfa like, don't ya think?




In the words of Tiny Tim..."God bless us, everyone."

What to Do on This Last Week of Advent - Reach

I'm blessed to have the gifts of so many as a part of the congregation I serve. Our worship this Advent has centered around reaching for the Light that is coming into the world. And as we reach toward the Light, the Word, the Promised One, what is left for others to see is the star they need to follow.

Special thanks to Collins for his vision and insight. Below are words of interpretation he offered to set the stage for this image.

REACH
A painting of a star, a guiding light, hangs in the sanctuary. Two thousand years ago a star hung in God's sanctuary‐ a sanctuary of desert and sky, humanity and heaven, where anything was possible and even expected. The star was a beacon for those searching, those reaching. Those moving toward its radiance had expectation of wonderful things, amazing things‐ hope, joy, peace on earth.
Like those so long ago, we are reaching. With our hands and our hearts;
with our spirit and our flesh‐ we are reaching. Through our service. Through our faith. Through commitment‐ we are reaching. To the needy, the struggling, the imprisoned‐we are reaching. To the hungry, wounded and proud‐ we are reaching.
We, the body of Christ, are reaching for and with the light of Christ. In the name of Love, reach‐be a light in this world. Collins Dillard, Dec 2008