My Burning Bush

Moses had his burning bush while tending sheep in the wolderness of Sinai.  I had mine while recovering from two weeks in the wilderness of fear.

 

These past two weeks have been rather difficult.  Heart tests, catheterizations, possible stent or by-pass.  None of the results were as both I and my doctor feared.

I was truly blessed to have:

·         Wonderful friends and family who were praying for me

·         A fine doctor who knew what to look for

·         Relief from at least three years anxiety over my heart.

Now, what do I do with that blessing?

·         I could just pass it off as insufficient testing

·         I could just ignore the medical advice I’ve been given

·         I could go back to waiting for the next event that would trigger an “episode.”

I choose to do none of these!

I’ve been given the opportunity to deeply reflect on my life, my health, my behavior, my fears.  Why waste such a blessing as I’ve been given?

There is simply no way to ignore the presence of God in those around me over the last few weeks.

I will “pay forward” the blessing by praising God and asking God’s grace to be a blessing to those around me.

Please don’t wait until “you see the dragon in the pit” to make this kind of commitment.

I have this day – nothing else is promised, and the beauty of it has continued to remind me of God’s wondrous grace and love.

Brother Simeon
Finding spiritual bread where I didn’t know it existed.

The Children of Abraham Revisited

 

Recently, I was asked to reflect on the people in my life who had influenced me.

The normal folks came to mind:  grandparents, parents, wife, children, grandchildren, friends.

After spending more time reflecting on the question, my memory was flooded by thoughts of my call to ministry, and who all had shaped that call.

It began as early as 1952.  I was seven years old.

One person whose influence I remember cannot be identified for his own safety.  As you hear my story, I will leave out the name.  You will understand why as you read.  I am compelled to share the events, however, as memories have flooded my mind while I have been preparing to preach on this World Communion Sunday.

Lambuth Memorial Methodist Church (at that time) was my home church. It is still located one block from the Lambuth campus. At that time, there were no chapel services on Sunday, nor meals served in the cafeteria. Our pastor at the time created a visionary ministry with students. Families of the church "adopted" a student during their time at Lambuth. That is where the story begins.

During that year, Lambuth College had its first international student.  He was from India.  Dean Wood Whetstone had recruited him while a missionary in Lucknow, India.

Another new international student arrived later that year.  When he came to our church he stood out.  He was very dark-skinned.  He was also from Jordan.  For many reasons, one of which was that I was an only child, my parents took the courageous step and adopted him. 

In my later years, I understood why my father took that step.  He, himself, had been adopted from the Orphan Train of the early 1900’s.  He knew what it meant to be separated and not being chosen as he stopped at each whistle stop from New York to Hastings, Nebraska where he was “chosen” after his brother had been “chosen” 100 miles further east.  When my father was in his late 60's, he was able to find his brother.

My “brother” came home with us for lunch every Sunday.  Often, we would spend the whole day until he had to return to Epworth Hall.  I learned what it meant to have an older brother from him.  I also learned much more.

He was from the Muslim faith.  He was devout and stopped all activities for his regular prayers.  He often told me of his faith’s love of Jesus, and that he loved him as well.  I know that he prayed for me each day, and I prayed for him.  I still do, trusting God to connect us in prayer.

Over the four years that we were together, another event occurred.  Our church’s boiler in the basement caught fire and destroyed our church’s sanctuary.  In our grief, we wondered where would we worship.  An invitation came from the Jewish synagogue down the street.  Gratefully, Lambuth Memorial accepted the gracious invitation.  We worshipped there on Sundays while the church made arrangements to rebuild.  My brother went with us to worship.  The "Children of Abraham" had connected.

As he came to graduation in 1956, his parents were unable to come to Lambuth.  He invited me to come and share that time of joy as his brother.  The war in the Middle East prevented his parents from leaving Jordan.  After the ceremony he told me that he would return when I graduated from Lambuth.  I had never considered the college even though it was only a block away and I was now only eleven years old.  He set in motion a spiritual path toward a call to ministry that began to grow as a student at Lambuth from 1963-1967.

We wrote each other often during those years.  When it came my time to graduate, June 5, 1967, students of history will know why he was unable to come.  Another Middle Eastern war.  After which, we lost contact.

My last attempt to contact him was just before the Gulf War when I discovered his address:  Kuwait.  The person I had asked to call - a Lambuth student from Saudi Arabia who was going home - was unable to do so because he discovered that my brother's telephone line sounded as if it were “tapped.”

Why do I tell you all this?

In short, my call to ministry has been shaped by not only my Christian family, but by my brothers and sisters of Abraham and the warfare that has separated us.

Perhaps, in the current chaos that is our world, we need to hear again our own calls to ministry to pray for God to break down the walls that divide us from each other.  This Sunday, Wold Communion Sunday, means more to me than many of our celebrations of the Eucharist because of these "shapings" of my life.

I am sure that my brother has gone “to the bosom of Abraham” by now.  I am equally sure that we will meet again someday.  His name is known to God, as is yours.

• Brother Simeon, remembering the crusts of spiritual bread that have been shared with me.

Lost in the Labyrinth

Our contemporary United Methodist Church has been described as  - "an enigma wrapped in a conundrum." We hear that the structure has become so overborne with bureaucratic "stuff", that it no longer resembles the vibrant movement begun by Wesley and others in the 1700's.

It is as if we are lost in a maze of our own making.

I heard one delegate say that they felt they were lost in the labyrinthine moves driven by political whim and power politics.  I believe that the delegate used the wrong adjective when describing the moves they experienced.

To be sure, what most of us heard (or saw) happening at the recent General Conference in Tampa, seemed to be anything but the intended "holy conversation" on a global scale.

Would you consider the following supposition?

We were not caught in a maze - with its twists, turns, and dark alleys leading to nowhere.

We were lost in a labyrinth.

A labyrinth, unlike a maze, has a beginning and an end.  You actually walk toward a goal, and then return to the beginning.  With its twists and turns, sometimes we walk alongside our fellow pilgrim, and at times we walk in opposing directions.  Often, we focus so much on the path that we fail to see our brothers or sisters who walk with us.  But, we are all pursuing the same goal.  Some walk faster than others.  Some take the intended meditation time to reflect on the moment and those walking the path with them.  Others seem to want to "get it over with" and move on toward some newer experience.

If we are lost, it is because we have forgotten that the path leads us in one direction, toward one goal, but at radically different paces.

Maybe it is time that we slowed down a bit on our walk and realized our fellow pilgrims on the path.  I believe that you will find in them a wondrous variety within its path.  I also believe that there is another walking with us who weeps when seeing our failure to recognize the gifts of other pilgrims travelling with us, or our willingness to point others outside the path because they are in our way.

On the intended labyrinth path, there are no dead ends - only the journey with God as we reach for the center, and return to the beginning to carry the lessons learned on the walk with us in our journey of faith.  Come, let us walk together, even in our disagreements, we can find God's purpose for our denomination - and hopefully the world as well.

  - Brother Simeon, still looking for someone to walk with me while we together search for bread.

Therefore. . .

While on Christmas break, I found myself watching the food channel late one night.

Since I couldn't get to sleep - or so I thought - I was listening to the announcer describe why a certain recipe was going to win:

• It is succulent with a hint of pepper;
• But it is not harshly bold with the heat;
• Therefore. . .

Honestly, that was the last word I remember from the description!  I fell asleep and dreamed of "therefore."

What if we don't finish all the tasks that we set before ourselves, describing them in fine detail, rich in colorful language, and bristling with hope and then get to the "therefore" and everyone else turns us off.

I'm sure that the dish prepared that night tasted good to someone. It gave someone the nourishmnet that they needed.  But, I didn't!  I turned it off right after the completion of the description when the chef said "therefore."  My imagination did not fill in the blank.

I believe that we do that in the church as we listen to plans, hopes, dreams, and fiascos. We put our own "therefore" before those who are engaged in the work of ministry have a completed effect to show or share.

I really missed that chocolate shrimp mousse with a hint of curry that night.  Actually, I'm glad I did miss that one; but I have also missed the sublime creations of culinery artists that make your mouth water when you even see them.  Glad I don't have "smell-a-vision."

In our hunger to get where we're going (my case to sleep) do we let the "therefore" be the final word and miss the rest of the creation unfolding around us?

I think I'll listen a little more carefully when things are "mixing up."  The results could be interesting.  I know the ingredients were, but what about the outcome?

I wonder where these crumbs came from? 
 Must have been a hurried up cook getting
ahead of those who wouldn't let him/her finish.

Brother Simeon

Fourth Quarter, fourth down, inches to go!

I love football.  There is something about this time of year that brings out the high school kid in me.

The last game that I attended in person was a game between my Vanderbilt Commodores and the Kentucky Wildcats about 10 years ago.  As expected, we lost.  Maybe this year will be different.  Said that for a few years now.  "Hope springs eternal..."

This blog, however, is not about football, but about one of football's interesting moments:  the fourth quarter. 

What I like about football's fourth quarter is the excitement as the clock winds down to the final seconds. I've seen games lost by two touchdowns in the final four minutes of play.  Fans get more excited.  Players sharpen their skills.  Coaches send in more fantastic plays.  The announcer gets more animated and searches for statistics to predict what could happen.  Have you noticed on television more timeouts so that more ads can run for the sponsors.  It is just part of the essence of the game to pay more attention as the clock winds down.

Some might say that I am in my "fourth quarter" of ministry.  After all, when you are 66 moving toward 67, some would say that you've had your day and now it's time to move aside.  In terms of leadership that is probably true.  However, life and ministry aren't counted by seconds, minutes, hours nor years. Ministry is counted by moments.  There are younger, more agile players.  Unfortunately, our team has not done the best job of recruiting many younger players.  We missed almost a whole generation according to some and I respect their opinion. 

I look forward to this next moment as I, like many my age, have been shown the value in coaching some newcomers to the game.  Many will spend a lot of time fumbling around - just like I did.  Others will not keep up their spiritual "wind sprints" - just like I didn't.  Some will try to follow a different play book - just like I did.  A few may even leave the field - just like I did.  But ministry continues to happen beyond even our own experience and presence "on the field."

Ministry is not about a single person, nor even about a single team.  It is about the whole exciting experience of following Christ.  Some would even call it a game.  But in this game, there are only winners - no one loses!

Our world-wide church may be facing its own "final quarter."  But, we should not go to the sidelines. We are not driven by the wild plays to catch the crowds attention. Nor are we particularly interested in the announcer's stack of statistics that seem to prove that we should not even be on the field, and certainly no where near victory.

The only play in our play book is the play of service to those who have not yet begun to catch the excitement of ministry for and with Christ. 

Don't look now, but the trainer may be sent in to be the quarterback.  Those options are up to our coach - the God of Creation!  I'm sure that our coach has many plays left before the clock winds down.

Whenever that is, of one thing I am certain:  It's not the score that counts, it's how you played the game.

Still watching from my flagpole.  It's getting interesting.

Still Here - Still Waiting - Still Working

We have a real problem in our culture with media hype.  Anyone who wants to do so may have their 15 minutes (or in some cases - 1 week) of fame.  If the right words are said to the right people, and the right kind of marketing happens, then we have a world-class story on our hands.

It is now 12:30 a.m. on May 22, 2011.  Significance of the hour is evident.

The very fact that I am here writing this post indicates several possibilities:

1. I am not among the elect who were to be "raptured" today at 6:00 pm (conveniently in each local time zone; or,
2. No one was elected, and Jesus just was disapppointed and went back to regroup and make another run at a second-coming later; or,
3. Media-hype pushed some thirsty souls to listen to another of the centuries-old predictions that predict a specific moment when Jesus will return; and, more importantly, some people know exactly when that is going to happen; or
4. We really need to help struggling pilgrims to see Jesus' Second-Coming in a far more biblically clear manner and less in hype and inuendo.

Actually, I prefer item 4 listed above.

Freedom of speech and religion can get you into some interesting corners at times.  By the way, we're in those times.

Matthew makes it pretty clear when the disciples ask if it is the time for you (Jesus) to save Israel. (Another way to say "Come back.")   Jesus, normally the one who gives vague references to things that the apostles just have a hard time grasping, stops their conjecture dead in its tracks.  "Neither the angels, nor I know.  ONLY the Father!"  Doesn't leave much room for investigation or speculation on that one does it?  Seems pretty clear to me that some modern mathematicians, the Incas, some successful novel writers, and those just eager to be in the spotlight for a while, have co-opted our rich Christian tradition of the Second-Coming of Christ for their own purposes.

Imagine the apostles bewilderment when they realized that they would still be wearing dusty shoes, walking down dangerous roads,catching smelly fish, associating with all kinds of people, running from the authorities (both civil and religious).  This choice that they had made to follow Jesus was not heading toward a blockbuster movie with all the special effects that made them look good.  This choice kept them engaged with a world that needed Jesus to heal and care for those who were on the outside looking in.  Even after he would ascend. 

Nothing has really changed since the Resurrection and Ascension has it?  Aren't we still charged with living each day AS IF this day were the last and we had little time for triviality because a loved world needed to be loved.  And it needed to be loved NOW!  Not waiting for a cloud-tearing, earthquake splitting event that would set everything right.  Of course, you have to know which side you're on as to whether or not the world is set right.

There is really no option in Jesus' ministry for opting out of our responsibilities as Christians and riding the theatrical spaceship to glory, especially while there is real work to be done.  We will all meet Jesus at some moment in time.  I hope I recognize him - I also hope he recognizes me.  I hope he finds me living a full life of service and devotion to his ministry.  I also hope he'll find me playing with my grandchildren and doing all the things that loving people do.  I am sure that he'll find me wondering about where to plant that rose bush, or build that n-scale bridge, and on and on.

I am quite certain that there will be no litmus test other than "did you love me?"  I'm prepared to answer that, but I trust grace if I am found unloving of his flock.

Doomsday?  Where is the doom in the return of Jesus Christ.  Actually, I never really thought he left.  If we believe in the Trinity, Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit are with us even while I'm sitting here unable to sleep and typing this post.

Actually, I wish Jesus would return like some cosmic superman who can:

• stop bullets from taking lives;
• shut down drug dealings with anyone, especially children; 
• who can rescue a town from natural disasters;
• who can bring peace in undeclared war in our cities;
• who can mend broken hearts with a touch;
• who can grow love among the unloveable.

Now that would be some second coming!

But - wait - that's what he told us to do.

Not a lot of empty clothes laying around, nor driverless cars, trains, and planes.  Rather, a dedicated, energized band of disciples who care more for those they serve than the implications of institutional order.  I expect we could even see Resurrection Dances springing up in all kinds of places.

Something to think about in these post-millenial times.

• Brother Simeon - still looking for a crust of spiritual bread.

Nurse Trees in the Smokies

If you have ever travelled to the Great Smoky Mountains in Eastern Tennessee - at least on the high backwoods trails - you've seen life emerging from decay and destruction.

The old American Chestnuts which dominated the high ranges a century ago are gone.  These were beautiful trees that were large and expansive.  They created a canopy that gave the floor of the forest a shady place in which smaller ferns and plants could grow.  As western settlers entered the area, they brought with them small, viral pests that brought down the great trees. 

Their hollow shells still line the floors of many glades and vales.

The loss of the grand chestnut, almost killed the logging industry - which almost killed the mountains.  Logs were taken at such a rate that erosion and mudslides were common.  Gone were the protecting canopy and the fruit for squirrels and other smaller creations of God.

Over the last few decades, a remarkable thing has happened in the high country.  Where chestnuts once stood, new forests are emerging.  When you walk the ridge trails, you see the remains of the chestnuts, but you also see the cradle of a new forest.  You see "nurse trees."

As I passed a "nurse tree" recently, I wondered if these shells weren't God speaking to the Church that we have known in the last century.

• Something has "blighted" our church structures
• The limbs are too big for the trunks to support
• The great structures are falling
• Losses, and unwelcome change bring bad news on a regular basis

I wonder, though, does God have something else in mind for the giants that once dominated our faithscape?

• Are we to give up our massive structures to "nurse" smaller, stonger, and different growth in the forest of faith?
• The sprouting sapplings growing from the rich bed of decaying chestnuts are not chestnut.  But, they are trees.  Some small, others large and able to withstand the rough climate of the mountains.
• Some of the new growth bears fruit, but others bear only beauty.

As I sit here pondering the changes that come in life, I wonder what the nursebed I create for those who come behind me will be like.  Will the soil be soft and receptive of any seed that will sprout?.  Will there be nutrient to strengthen the weak and help the new life grow strong?

Maybe the old structures have to fall in order for there to be new growth to give nurure and comfort.  Time will tell. One hundred years from now, will pilgrims in the forests of faith see massive structures that hide the sky and block the rain and wind, or will they see wispy glades of moving trees whose roots reach deeply down into the soul-soil of those who went before?

 - Simeon Stylites the Elder