Finishing the Master's Work

Dear friends,

This week I am writing to you from a much different place than last week. Actually, I am sitting at the same desk in front of the same computer and dictating this message into the same microphone. The different "place" has to do, rather, with my emotions and physical well-being. Last week it was dark and cold and I had lost my ability to walk because of a fall a few days earlier -- I had been to the doctor and lined up an MRI for the next week. A few more "unknowns" had been added to my regular "unknowns," which have been more than enough for me to handle.

This week is quite different. I am in my usual place in my study at the same desk in front of the same computer and dictating this message into the same microphone. My true "place" has changed in several remarkable ways. It is a sunny Wednesday afternoon and the temperature is near 80°. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom right outside my study window, where I look as I work. I am now using a walker, but my left leg is becoming much more reliable. I will still have an MRI on Friday evening, but I am feeling really good about it. I have lined up six weeks of physical therapy -- in Cartersville! This is especially good news. Finally, on Tuesday I visited the Shepherd Center and got some medications adjusted. I will come back to the Shepherd Center a little later.

Easter Sunday was just wonderful! Carole and I worshiped with the Chickamauga congregation, and I was the preacher. The sermon subject was, "If I Should Wake Before I Die." The church was full and the music was wonderful. As one might expect, the Easter service was the best one of the whole year. I am sure that each of us has had a similar experience. Easter is the day when Christians can sing, dance and laugh out loud in the cemetery. It is a jolly occasion to be sure -- and the joke is on death!

After Easter, every time we must walk away from the grave of a loved one, we do so with a small degree of sadness, but with a larger degree of joy. We know deep within our hearts that death has no power over us or over those we love. I have no interest in adding yet another opinion regarding the Terri Schiavo case, although I could since I know as much about it as anyone. This is an incredibly complex and difficult situation. However, in my judgment there is one thing notably missing, and this is especially sad given that Easter came in the middle of it. What is missing is any kind of hope beyond the grave -- either for the patient or for her loved ones. Having said this, it may actually be there but simply has not made it to my television screen. After all, Hope (notice the capital "H") doesn't work very well when "reality" is portrayed as inherently adversarial.

I want to offer a strong word of exhortation, and that is that we Presbyterian-type Christians in Northwest Georgia stop talking about the Sundays after Easter. More correctly, our liturgical calendar says that we celebrate not just one but seven Sundays of Easter. The first thing we need to do is get the word out to the Christmas/Easter folks. On the sweeter side, it could also mean a boon in the sale of chocolate Easter eggs, crosses, bunnies, and other such delight. More importantly, it means that we should sing more joyfully, preached more exuberantly, and give more generously then at any other time of the year.

I know that this Sunday is bound to be a letdown in most of our churches. Even pastors referred to it as "low Sunday." I know that most church people are resistant to change, but this is one worth fighting for. Easter is a season, not just a day.

Many of you know me as an incurable opera fan. I love the singing and the scenery, and even the plots. I love everything about the opera including the stories behind them. There is a wonderful story about Giacomo Puccini and what happened when he died. (from Opera Anecdotes by Ethan Moddern)

It was during his battle with cancer in 1922 that he began to write Turandot, which many now consider his best opera. He worked on the score day and night, despite his friends' advice to rest and to save his energy.

When his sickness worsened, Puccini said to his students, "If I don't finish Turandot, I want you to finish it." He died in 1924, leaving the work unfinished. His students gathered all that was written of the opera, studied it in great detail, and then proceeded to write the remainder of the opera.

The world premier was performed in the La Scala Opera House in Milan in 1926, conducted by Toscanini, Puccini's favorite student. The opera went beautifully until Toscanini came to the end of the part written by Puccini. He stopped the music, put down the baton, turned to the audience, and announced, "Thus far the master wrote, until he died."

There was a long pause; no one moved. Then the great conductor picked up his baton, turned to the audience, and, with tears in his eyes, announced, "But his disciples finished his work." The opera closed to thunderous applause, and to a permanent place in the annals of great musical compositions.

There you have it -- the Easter season is when Jesus' disciples prepare themselves to finish the Master's work. (Those of us who are all so golf lovers should not confuse this with the golfing event of the same name.) As we carry out the work, however, we do so with faces that are brighter, steps that are lighter, and joy that is absolutely and incurably contagious.

This brings me back to the Shepherd Center. Carole and I went so that I could see a Nurse Practitioner about some medicine needs. As we drove down we talked about our friends, staff and patients alike. When we do this we always mention Lance, a 24-year-old man from Florida who had a similar injury to mine. Carole and I agreed that we would love to see Lance and his mother again.

As we entered the outpatient registration area, we ran into Cathy, my physical therapist when I was in the Day Program. She left the Shepherd Center sometime during the fall to have her first child and six weeks of maternity leave. Cathy had definitely been delivered and looked fantastic. After we hugged, we both looked at each other and each of us said over and over, "Look at you -- you look terrific!" Part of the reason I looked so terrific was that I was walking under my own power, with a little help from the walker. In fact I walked all over the place!

As we entered the outpatient treatment area and as I moved toward the scales, I saw Diana, another one of my physical therapists. The first time I saw Diana was my first full weekend at the Shepherd Center. This was all the way back to the first week of May 2004. I can tell you I looked 1,000,000,000% better than I did during that first visit. Once again, we hugged and told each other how great we looked. It was unbearable to anyone watching!

Within 2-3 minutes we ran into Dr. Leslie, the physician who took care of me at the very beginning of my time at Shepherd. Our greeting was a little more formal with a firm handshake and some meaningful arm slapping, but the spirit of the conversation was the same. There was great surprise, great warmth, and great joy that radiated both between us and from us to all who saw us.

After my medical examination, we went downstairs to the Standing Treadmill Trainer where I spent so many hours, learning how to walk again. When I entered I saw Doug, Leslie, Maggie, and several folks I did not know. As expected, they greeted me warmly and there were hugs all around. Shortly after entering the room, one of them said that another visitor had just been in and was asking about me. Of course, I was delighted to hear that and wondered who it might be.

After a few minutes the door opened and in walked -- you might have guessed -- Lance! We were stunned beyond words -- but we all began talking almost immediately. It was a miracle! I should mention that when Lance came in he was walking with just one cane. The last time I saw Lance I was walking a little and he was still wheelchair-bound. After our visit we all went upstairs and found Lance's mother. After some picture-taking and more hugging we got in the car and drove home.

Sisters and brothers, this is what Easter is all about. It is about the days following the Resurrection when everything is bright and hopeful. Easter is about new life and new opportunities for ministry. Easter is about seeing your friends and colleagues with glowing faces; and their glowing faces seeing the glow on your face. Easter is a time when some of us are still paralyzed in-part, but are loose, flexible and very strong in spirit. Easter is a time when the Church should forget about it conflicts because the Joy is so great that we just want to grab our adversary and dance until we both dropped to the floor! To be bitter and angry during Easter is just unthinkable!

May the risen Christ brighten your way,

Jim

Sorrow into Joy

Dear friends,

Last week in Connecticut, my niece and her husband lost a baby. At about five months into her pregnancy, Dawn when into labor and delivered Joseph -- much too early. He lived just a short time. Certainly this has been a difficult time for these parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts and uncles. The death of a child, no matter what the age of that child, is one of the most difficult things that anyone could face.

Likewise, our attention has been riveted to the incredibly sad case of Terry Shiavo in Florida. This sadness has been somewhat lost by the antics of politicians and the unbearable chatter of the OCNN's (obsessive cable news networks). For me, this chatter came to a screeching halt this morning when, on Holy Thursday, I heard one of the "spiritual advisers" say that "our hope is in..... Governor Bush." Quite frankly, I was hoping for a different finish to that sentence.

Having said this, I remind us that we are witnessing this unbelievably difficult family drama through the relentless and distorting eyes of television that has become obsessed with "reality." The only reality worth mentioning here has nothing to do with politics or positions on hot button issues. The only reality worth mentioning here is that it is a supremely difficult thing to accept the death of a child, or a spouse, or a parent, or even a good friend. Let's face it. Giving up a loved one to death is perhaps life's most challenging task -- probably even more difficult than facing our own deaths.

By the way, of much less importance, I fell in our kitchen last Saturday and landed pretty hard on my "sitting parts." The good news is that I did not break any bones. The bad news is that I cannot walk and have had to recall my wheelchair. I will have an MRI next week to see what is going on. Meanwhile, I am now able to stand and it appears that whatever is wrong, I am healing. For now, however, we must return to Holy Week.

Holy Thursday is the day in the "reality" drama when there are several "twists" in the action. Please forgive me if I jump around among the several gospel accounts. The first of these is when Jesus gathers his friends to celebrate the Passover. Everything goes along normally until after the meal when Jesus picks up a piece of bread and stuns his friends by telling them that this bread is his body broken for them. To further drive the point home, our Lord picks up the cup and declares that this is his blood shed for them.

Second, as all this was taking place, Jesus stunned his disciples by declaring that one of them would betray him. This elicited emotional protestations on the part of these fellows who thought themselves to be his best friends. On the other hand, I am sure that just bringing up the subject caused each one to look at the others as potential betrayers. In the ancient Middle East, this would have been a perfect moment for a "tribal council" to vote on who should be eliminated from the group. Suspicion and potential betrayal makes for great drama!

Third, Peter protests the loudest of all when he declares that he will protect his Lord with all his might. Later he proves it by the heroic amputation of a guard's ear. While this sort of gesture might be anticipated and appreciated, another twist hits us squarely in the face when Peter loudly denies even knowing Jesus.

Finally, this whole crowd of devoted disciples eventually scatters to the four winds because they feared what the Jewish leaders might do to them if they had retained their alliance with Jesus. This is "reality" drama at its very best. If you throw in a little sensational advertising and not a small amount of dramatic distortion you could have a winner on your hands.

During Holy Week 2005 we are all faced with the question of what it means to let go of a loved one in death. I am sure that many of you reading this letter know something of what Mary was going through as she left the Cross on Good Friday. To turn one's back and walk away from the hospital bed or the grave of a loved one is both a life-shattering and life-changing moment.

For Christians, Holy Week helps put our personal grief into a cosmic perspective. Today's lectionary from John's Gospel reminds us of why Jesus came and his purpose. Listen to the first five verses of chapter 17:

After Jesus had spoken these words, he looked up to heaven and said, "Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed.

Jesus finished his work by means of a politically motivated and totally unjust death. If that were the end of the story, it would be a sad one indeed. It would have been just another sad, unfortunate story in which the human system displayed unspeakable cruelty and no mercy. Obviously, this could not be further from the truth. Death is not the worst thing that can happen to us. Hopelessness, or misplaced hope, is the worst thing that could happen to us.

The dark twists and turns of Holy Week are certainly not the end of things. Not only do we know that there is light at the end of the tunnel, there is music, and flowers, and tears of joy that simply cannot be stopped!

I want to close with something that I hope will become an Easter tradition for us. The wonderful Paschal Sermon of St. John Chrysostom.

If any man be devout and love God, let him enjoy this fair and radiant triumphal feast. If any man be a wise servant, let him enter rejoicing into the joy of his Lord. If any have labored long in fasting, let him now receive his recompense. If any have wrought from this first hour, let him today receive his just reward. If any have come at the third hour, let him with thankfulness keep the feast. If any have arrived at the sixth hour, let him have no misgivings, because he shall in no wise be deprived. If any have delayed until the ninth hour, let him draw near, fearing nothing. If any have tarried even until the 11th hour, let him also not be alarmed at his tardiness; for the Lord, who is jealous of His honor, will accept the last even as the first;

He gives rest unto him who comes at the 11th hour, even as unto him who has worked from the first hour. And he shows mercy upon the last, and cares for the first; and to the one He gives, and upon the other He bestows gifts. And He both accepts the deeds, and welcomes the intention, and honors the acts and praises the offering.

Wherefore, enter all of you into the joy of your Lord, and receive your reward, both the first and likewise the second. To rich and poor together, hold high festival. You sober and you heedless, honor the day.

Rejoice today, both of you who have asked it and you to have disregarded the fast.

The table is fully laden; feast sumptuously. The calf is fatted; let no one go hungry away. Enjoy the feast of faith; receive all the riches of loving-kindness. Let no one bewail his poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed. Let no one weep for his inequities, for pardon has shown forth from the grave. Let no one fear death, for the Savior's death has set us free: He that was held prisoner other has annihilated it

By descending into hell, He made hell captive. He embittered it when it tasted of his flesh. And Isaiah, foretelling this, cried: "Hell was embittered when it encountered You in the lower regions." It was embittered, for it was abolished. It was embittered, for it was mocked. It was embittered, for it was slain. It was embittered, for it was overthrown. It was embittered, for it was fettered in chains. It took a body, and met God face to face. It took birth, and encountered heaven. It took that which was seen, and fell upon the unseen.

Oh Death, where is your sting?

Oh Hell, where is your victory?

Christ is risen, and you are overthrown.

Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen.

Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice.

Christ is risen, and life begins.

Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the grave.

For Christ, being risen from the dead, is become the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep.

To Him be glory and dominion unto ages of ages. Amen.

I hope you can appreciate the darkness before you enjoy the light -- and the singing!

Jim

The Best Thing That Could Have Happened

Dear friends,

In many ways this has been a terrible week. By this I mean that I feel terrible. Since about a week ago I have experienced contractions and spasms in my shoulder and upper back muscles. It is hard to explain just how bad that makes me feel, but I really feel terrible. Hopefully some changes in medication will help this, but right now I feel pretty bad. Actually, I feel quite a bit better having just told you how bad I feel. There is nothing worse than the denial of something, like pain, that is real.

What is both interesting and encouraging about this process is that despite my stiffness and discomfort I still have pretty good range of motion. That is, I can reach both arms just over my head and I can brush my hair all the way round. Although it is still quite uncomfortable, I can brush my teeth and shave my face. Although I am rather clumsy, I can cut my own food and carry my plates to the sink -- one at a time. My ventures into an uncertain future, although not without ups, downs, bumps and surprises, have been marked by wonderful progress for which I am very grateful. That is just the way it is: we move towards an uncertain future over a path that is full of danger, yet we are bolstered by the wonderful truth that God is sufficient for our every need.

I am very grateful that throughout this difficult year of physical rehabilitation I have also experienced a joyful and constant serenity. Please understand, I am not at all happy about this injury and about the discomfort I am feeling today. To be perfectly honest, there is a large part of me that would like to have things the way they were a year ago. On the other hand, over these past 11 months I have had the wonderful opportunity to draw deeply from the wells that I have been digging for many years. And yet the digging has hardly been merely my own work.

The Church itself has been digging wells for me and with me throughout my life. Beginning with my first prayers at bedtime; learning the Lord's Prayer and 23rd Psalm; memorizing all kinds of prayers and Scriptures; reading books, listening to sermons, hearing the Bible taught and studying it for myself, I have developed wonderfully rich resources that have saved my life on many occasions. Oh yes, the Church itself is a profound gift. I cannot begin to list the names of people who invested their lives in me over the years. Likewise, I am enriched by continuing friendships with those men and women for whom I have given myself in ministry, compassion, and service.

Without the faithfulness of God and God's people in the Church I could not have survived, much less prospered as I am prospering today! So, today is a pretty bad day. On the other hand, today is a pretty great day because I will survive and prosper, maybe not exactly on my terms, but certainly on terms that are pleasing to God and beneficial to God's mission in the world for which we together remain responsible. It has been a lifetime of nurture that makes us the people we are today and motivates us to even greater missional efforts as we continue to move into that uncertain future with God and with God's people. There are no shortcuts.

Last weekend has been very painful for those of us who live in the Atlanta area. I was on the phone with a man when he asked if I had heard about the shootings at the Fulton County Courthouse. I said, "No," and he told me about the escaped prisoner and all that followed. By noon on Saturday the local and cable news media had us whipped into a frenzy of fear with the horrific story of an additional murder and a hostage situation in a Gwinnett County apartment. We were relieved when the man gave up without a fight. We were amazed and inspired by the unfolding story of the young hostage, Ashley Smith.

Ms. Smith did so many things right that is just staggering. Not only did she manage not to get herself killed, she convinced Mr. Nichols to turn himself in, saving his life in the process. Yesterday's Atlanta Journal-Constitution indicated that this young woman was a hero and had hit a potential "jackpot," which will certainly include book and movie deals. While some might call her actions "heroic," others of us might give thanks to God that this sister in Christ behaved like a Christian in the midst of a very dangerous situation.

First, I was impressed by the CNN interview with her South Carolina pastor. This man spoke of Ms. Smith as a 12 year-old member of his church. His comments spoke volumes to me about the nature of the Christian community and its power to produce heroic behavior in its members. I can imagine her participating in a Sunday school class, an active member of the youth group, and taking part in community service projects. I can imagine her reading her Bible and talking about it with her friends. I can imagine her singing in worship services and writing in her bedroom. It appears to me that she has had a lifetime of Christian nurture.

Second, it appears to me from the news reports that this young woman has also had her share of failure, pain, and personal tragedy. God takes bent limbs and broken branches and makes them a whole in order that they should accomplish great purposes for the Kingdom. God takes imperfect people and fills them with courage for great purposes. What is especially inspiring to me, however, is that despite our imperfections and our brokenness, God makes wonderful use of the deep wells of spiritual nurture in our lives, and the results are both amazing and life-giving.

Third, much has been made of Ms. Smith's use of the Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren as a means of averting another tragedy. I must say at the outset that Mr. Warren's book is excellent in every respect and very much worth reading. Having said this, the reading of this book or any book does not produce instant spiritual maturity. There is no instant spiritual maturity. Rather, we are nurtured in our faith over the years until we begin to feel God's presence so closely that we remain calm in every crisis. Then, if we are calm during a crisis we are able to reach for whatever we are reading at the moment and give someone, like Mr. Nichols, the greatest gift he has ever received. It was the best thing that could have happened to him!

For Ashley Smith it was the Purpose Driven Life. If that had happened to me and I was in my study I would have reached for Henri Nouwen wonderful devotional volume, The Return of the Prodigal Son: a Story of a Homecoming. Father Nouwen reflects on his spiritual journey through his contemplation of Rembrandt's painting of the same name.

One of the greatest challenges of the spiritual life is to receive God's forgiveness. There is something in us humans that keeps us clinging to our sins and prevents us from letting God erase our past and offer us a completely new beginning. Sometimes it even seems as though I want to prove to God that my darkness is too great to overcome. While God wants to restore me to the full dignity of sonship, I keep insisting that I will settle for being a hired servant. But do I truly want to be restored to the full responsibility of the son? Do I truly want to be so totally forgiven that a completely new way of living becomes possible?

If I had been taken hostage last Friday I might have told Mr. Nichols that every day God gives me a special message in the Daily Lectionary. One of the lessons for Friday was Romans 8:28-39. Here is part of it:

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Sisters and brothers, I am so grateful that Ashley Smith has been part of the Christian community that has nurtured her faith throughout her lifetime. I am even more grateful that she had a great resource at her fingertips -- and that she knew how to use it with grace and confidence in God!

God be with you through the hopelessness of Holy Week, and into the Joy that lies beyond.

Jim

Sing Until You Drop

Dear friends,

I have good news and bad news -- and more good news! The first good news is that over the past few months I have regained a significant amount of muscle, especially in my arms and shoulders. This is good news because I had lost quite a bit of muscle mass during several months of paralysis and inactivity last year. When I look at myself in the mirror without a shirt, my muscles are pretty well defined. I am not exactly a "Terminator," but I look pretty good. On the other hand, my muscles twitch and jump in a way that does not look very "normal." Regardless, they are muscles, and muscles mean strength -- and strength means restoration of function. This is definitely good news!

The bad news is that there are now more places in which to have muscle spasms. They are especially problematic when I wake up in the morning and try to move in a meaningful direction, like out of the bed. My body knows what it is supposed to do, but everything in it resists doing it with all its might. The rigidity and resistance are so intense as to be downright painful! I suppose there is a lesson here -- there is always a lesson. It is not enough to know what is right; we usually have to overcome significant resistance from within if we are to make it "work" in reality.

The next news item transforms the aforementioned bad news not just into good news, but into very good news! Last Sunday Carole and I worshiped in Cartersville with the sisters and brothers at First Church. We celebrated the sacrament of Holy Communion. The first and last hymns were two of my all-time favorites: God of Grace and God of Glory and Come Sing O Church in Joy. I don't know what got into me, but I really let loose in the singing of these hymns. Up until this point I have been unable to put much power into my singing. Mostly, I would give out after a few measures because my upper body became rigid and inflexible. I knew that it was absolutely "right" to sing, but my body simply would not allow it.

This Sunday was different: I opened my mouth and gave everything I had. By the end of the service, I was totally spent -- worn out, exhausted! After the benediction I had to sit down to catch my breath. I didn't feel so great at the moment, but another part of me felt fantastic. I had sung close to the top of my voice for the first time in nearly a year. There is nothing as wonderful as being with the Church, singing at the top of your lungs to God's glory!

This reminds me of the time that Carole and I led music or the Synod-Wide Presbyterian Women retreat at the Epworth Center on St. Simons Island. On the final evening we sang Come Sing O Church in Joy during our worship time. You have to picture this: nearly 800 Presbyterian women, who love the Lord Jesus Christ; who love one another, and who love God's mission throughout the world -- singing this wonderful hymn in which the refrain "celebrates the journey." With each verse, both the intensity and the harmony increased. It was absolutely heavenly! After the service, Carole said to me, "I didn't know I could play like that!" Of course, the truth is that when we "knock ourselves out" worshiping God we can always do the impossible.

There is no organization within the Presbyterian Church USA that connects joyful worship and enthusiastic mission any more effectively than Presbyterian Women. Our experience of singing together at St. Simons Island was just one event among many that connect the two intentionally. On Saturday of this week our Cherokee Presbytery PW will meet for its annual Spring Gathering. As one might expect, there will be singing in the context of worship, reporting on mission and planning for mission. A wonderful feature of this year's event will be the presence of several new PW churches.

I want to give you an example of how to use the "missional" questions on the "About Us" page at www.Cherokeepby.com. Under the final section, "We are a worshiping community," there are two questions:

Does a confused theology of worship lead to confused worship practice? How?



How does a confused understanding of worship lead the church to a misunderstanding or neglect of ministries of social justice and compassion?



When we think about a confused theology of worship, I want to suggest that the confusion is often misplaced appreciation. That is, many of us tend to favor worship services in which three things happen: the preacher is dazzling, the choir is awe-inspiring, and the entire extraordinary experience lasts 59 minutes. As someone who sits up front most of the time, I can tell you what worship services often look like. First, there are an inordinate number of electronic beeps that are heard on the hour. Second, there are many dazed looks on faces in the congregation during both the sermon and the anthem. Finally, I cannot help but notice that there are many people who simply do not sing in church.



I can certainly understand some sensitivity about not having the greatest voice in the world, but worship is not a singing contest. Worship is when we open our mouths and shout (sing) that God is the greatest; that there is no one in the world like God; that we are willing to give everything we have for God! Imagine you are a newcomer to a worshiping community, perhaps an unbeliever, and you hear loud, exuberant singing by everyone in the room, including some that don't sound so great. Imagine you are a newcomer to a worshiping community, perhaps an unbeliever, and you hear lackluster, unenthusiastic singing and half the people aren't even moving their lips. Which congregation is going to help the Holy Spirit open your heart to the Lord Jesus?



Why do we sing anyway? Over the past two weeks I have been using a devotional volume called, The Art of Prayer. There is a section written by Theophan the Recluse, a Russian Orthodox monk of the late 19th century, called, The Purpose of Church Hymns. Theophan is not exactly "contemporary," but he is quite relevant. He writes as follows:

"Speaking to yourselves in Psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord" (Ephesians 5: 19).

How should we interpret these words? Do they mean that when you are filled with the Spirit, you should then sing with your mouth and your heart? Or that if you wish to be filled with the Holy Spirit, you should first sing? Is this singing with the mouth and heart, mentioned by the Apostle, meant to be the consequence of being filled by the Spirit, or the means towards it?

The infusion of the Holy Spirit does not lie within our power. When it comes, this infusion will so greatly animate the powers of our spirit that the song to God breaks out of itself. Freedom of choice lies only between leaving this song to be sung in the heart alone, or expressing it aloud for all to hear.

The purpose of church songs is precisely to make the spark of grace that is hidden within us burn brighter and with greater warmth. This spark is given by the Sacraments. Psalms, hymns and spiritual odes are introduced, to fan the spark and transform it into flame. They act on the spark of grace as the wind acts on a spark hidden in firewood.

I would love to encourage our sessions to begin a lifelong practice of training people for worship. We must teach people how to sing joyfully because it is not always clear whether singing brings the Spirit close or is the result of the Spirit indwelling us. We must teach people how to hear the Word responsibly, because the purpose is not merely to criticize the preacher but to do what the Word demands of us. We must teach people to pray around the world, bringing life and passion to the Prayers of the People. We must teach people that they should not give because the church needs it; they should give because God has given His only Son as a perfect act of love. Worship is the most important thing the Christian Church does -- we must do it enthusiastically, excellently, and with an eye to God's mission in the world.

Last Sunday I knocked myself out singing to God. I plan to do the same thing this Sunday!

The peace of Christ be with you.

Jim

The Future and the Past Are Not the Same

Dear friends,

The Psalm for this morning in the daily lectionary is one of my favorites -- Psalm 27. The writer gives the clear impression that his enemies are all around him, even his family is against him, and he is looking desperately for a place to hide. Thankfully, the songwriter is not just running away, he is running toward God -- more specifically, God's Temple. He begins with the words that have thrilled my soul for many years:

The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

This morning when I arose from sleep, it was very cold. Yesterday, also, it was very cold. For two days before that it was cold and very damp. I am sure that by now you know that this is spinal cord code for, "I have felt quite bad all this week." I wake up with muscle spasms that twist me to the right, to the left, and sometimes back to the right. After an hour of stretching, it is quite discouraging to have 2-3 hard muscle spasms that threaten to undo all of our good exercise.

Unfortunately that is the reality that I am dealing with. May 2004 seems like a million years ago in many ways. Some of you may remember my reflection that I had chosen to connect this difficult and painful injury with God's calling to me and this goes back a long way. My inward call to serve God as a Minister of the Word and Sacrament came at a very early age. As a senior in high school this calling was confirmed by the church through my involvement in the dynamic youth ministry of the Black Rock Congregational Church in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

In 1971 the Church confirmed my inward calling, my gifts and my Christian experience by ordaining me to the Ministry of the Word and Sacrament. During my early days of service, I could not imagine doing anything but education/youth ministry. Within a few years, God impressed on me that I had a gift for preaching -- and even gave me the desire! After several years as an Associate Pastor, God called me to do something I never thought I would do -- serve as pastor/head of staff. Although I never thought I would serve on a Presbytery staff, once again God showed me that I had gifts for this kind of work and, once again, the church confirmed my call.

After nearly 34 years of ordained ministry, I can affirm unequivocally two things: that God's ways are always surprising, and that God's path has always been good. Please notice, I did not say that God's path has always been easy -- I said that God's path has always been good. I really mean that, even in my present circumstances.

Back in May 2004 I knew that my future was going to be different from my past. Even though I understood it theoretically, I really could not picture that I would still feel the way I do -- in my body -- 10 months after the injury. Surely I would snap back to normality and full health because I had always done so in the past. I have always been a fast healer; I have always defied the odds and done better than my doctors predicted. After all, I have always been a bit of an overachiever! This time it was different.

Although I have done remarkably well, considering the gravity of my injury, I am not nearly back to what I was a year ago. My gritty, can-do self will never give up. I will keep stretching, exercising, and otherwise knocking myself out because I want to drive a car again; I want to play golf again; I want to play the guitar again. Why not just say it? I want my old life back!

By the way, the previous sentence was said with great passion. I really want my old life back! I really, really want my old life back! I suppose I could add "really" a dozen more times because I obviously feel strongly about this. The problem here is that I can't have my old life back. It is absolutely impossible for me to be what I was 12 months ago, mostly because that was 12 months ago. I have to deal with today's reality that I am a seriously injured person who as far as I can tell is still called of God and confirmed by the Church as a Minister of the Word and Sacrament. The calling has not changed, but the context has changed.

The reality is that I am an incredibly diligent, hard-working, recovering quadriplegic who is gifted and called by God, and whose future will be different from his past. When I was a patient at the Shepherd Center, part of my rehabilitation involved group counseling. For obvious reasons, we were warned about depression as a very real possibility, especially if the road to recovery was steep, rocky, and unproductive. Since the very beginning, I have not been depressed because my heart was filled and strengthen by today's Psalm:

The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

This strong passage helps me when my legs do not behave and when my hands do not work very well. This strong passage helps me when I can barely get into the shower and when I cut myself shaving because the razor gets too heavy. This passage helps me face the prospect of preaching, leading session retreats, and counseling with my colleagues in ministry even though I tire very easily. This passage gives me great hope for the future because I know, by the very nature of things, that my future will be different from my past. And, by the way, that is both a little scary and very good at the same time.

I have been reading C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy. The second of the three books is Perelandra. This one is about Dr. Ransom, the great philologist who goes to Venus to deal with the age-old question of temptation and evil. Early in the story, he meets a Green Lady who turns out to be the extraterrestrial "first woman." As Ransom is learning the rules on this young planet, the Lady speaks of the awesome power of moving into the future.

She tells him, "Among the times there is a time that turns a corner and everything this side of it is new. Times do not go backward."

Dr. Ransom and the Lady continue their conversation several pages later as follows: "the world is so much larger than I thought. I thought we went along paths -- but it seems there are no paths. The going itself is the path." As they continue, Ransom learns that the path is unpredictable and often dangerous. Indeed, the future will never be like the past, but there is no need to fear -- The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

Moving into the future is a difficult business to be sure. As I move into my future, I do so exercising three powerful disciplines: prayer, theological reflection, intensive physical therapy. These three disciplines are for one purpose, and one purpose only -- my capacity to play a continuing role in God's mission in and through Cherokee Presbytery. Certainly at some point this may change, but I will have to deal with that if and when it happens. I simply cannot deal with what might happen -- I can only deal with what is!

In closing I want to direct your attention to something new on the World Wide Web -- our newly redesigned Cherokee Presbytery web site, www.Cherokeepby.com. I am very grateful to Jo Clark who designed and created the site. As always, we hope you will visit the site often and especially that you will send suggestions as to how we can make it more useful for your church's needs.

On the homepage click on the link, "About Us," where you will find the reasons for which Cherokee Presbytery exists. That is, you will find our Mission Statement; you will find our Commonly Held Values; and you will find Our Commonly Held Assumptions. Here is where I would like you to focus your attention.

We assume that we are an Evangelistic community.

We assume that we are a Holy community.

We assume that we are a community of Vocation.

We assume that we are an Ethical community.

We assume that we are organized for Mission and not Maintenance.

We are a Worshiping community.

Obviously we are a diverse Presbytery made up of diverse congregations. I hope we can agree however that there are some things we all do and believe in very strongly. Another way to put it is that there are church practices that must be embraced and developed. Further, without paying careful attention to these practices we may actually lose our life while trying to preserve it.

I hope you will take these questions to heart. They do not propose a program, only a missional framework. Only you can provide the specific cultural analysis to open up these questions and make them live. Moving into God's future is scary business, but trying to get your church back to God's past will drive you crazy!

The peace of Christ be with you,

Jim