Children's Church IS the Church - Rodger Nishioka

The following article is by a friend and professor of mine, Rodger Nishioka.  It was posted by "Next Church" at their website here.  It is a wonderful article which concisely speaks of the historical creation of the "Children's Church."  In their book, The Godbearing Life, which has now become a youth ministry standard, Kenda Creasy Dean who teaches at Princeton Theological Seminary and Ron Foster, pastor of a United Methodist congregation, identify one of the most problematic models traditional youth ministry as the “one-eared Mickey Mouse.”  In their description, the congregation and its ministry form the head of Mickey Mouse while youth ministry forms one ear that, like the Mickey Mouse image, is barely attached to the head.  The problem, they say, is that young people grow up with an understanding that youth ministry is only tangentially connected to the life of the whole church if it is connected at all.  They view youth ministry as something that is separate.  This view ends up reinforcing the natural egocentrism of adolescence and while that may suffice for a while, when young people grow up, they find themselves bereft of any understanding of church and the whole church’s ministry and their part in it.  That is when they drift away.  Tragically, we set them up for this by locating their ministry as something apart from the rest of the church.  This analogy is potent as we consider the place of children in the church.

In too many congregations, our children are “dismissed” to go to “children’s church” or something like it either a few minutes into the congregation’s worship or in place of being present in the congregation’s worship at all.  As far as I can tell, this is a 20^th century phenomenon.  In reviewing session minutes from Presbyterian congregations in the archives here at Columbia Theological Seminary, this action of sending children out of worship began in the 1950s at the height of the post-war baby boom.  Prior to this, no such thing existed.  Children were in the whole of worship with their families.  But in the years following the second world war with the tremendous influx of newborns, congregations began looking for immediate and cost effective ways to gain more space in the sanctuary to accommodate all these young families and their children and some inventive pastor or church educator thought about sending the children out to make more space for adults and thus, the phenomenon of “dismissing” children from worship was born.  If a generation runs approximately 20 years, then we are into our third generation of this experience and it has become normative for us all.  Indeed, when I have preached in congregations where there is now plenty of room for all ages to worship together, church after church still sends children out of worship because “that’s what we have always done.”  The truth is, that is NOT what we have always done and even more, we are now reaping what we have sown.

We have sown three generations of children leaving or never worshipping with us, and it is no wonder that so many find worship boring and incomprehensible when they come of age and are expected to join us.  Further, when I suggest that children remain with us during the whole of worship, some of the loudest objections come from some young parents who want worship to be a time for them when they do not have to worry about their child’s behavior.  My own sense is that this reflects the current belief among developmental theorists that adolescence is extending well into young adulthood and what else is a true sign of adolescence but the primary focus on one’s own needs over others.  And after all, these parents of young children experienced the pattern of a separate “adult worship” and “children’s worship” when they were young so is not that what church is supposed to be like?

Here is the greatest problem I find in separating our children from us in the worship of God.  In Matthew’s gospel, he relays the story also found in Mark and Luke about Jesus encountering little children.  Parents are bringing their children to Jesus because they want their daughters and sons to meet him, but the disciples turn them away.  Jesus tells the disciples to , “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.”  (Matt. 19:14).  Readers of Matthew know that the gospel writer often uses the words “kingdom of heaven”  euphemistically for “God.”  Given the quote from Jesus, he seems to be telling us all that God belongs to children.  This is unique, truly.  I can find no other place in the gospels where God is said to belong to anyone.  It seems that there is something about children that they alone are named as the ones who possess God.  For me, then, the question of children and the church is first and foremost a theological one.  If we are called as the body of Christ to worship God and to glorify God and to enjoy God (as the Westminster divines tell us in the catechism), then does it not make sense that those to whom God is said to belong, our children, should at least be present among us?   In fact, should not our children be leading us in this endeavor for which we were created?

There is no “children’s church” separate from the “church.”  Children’s church IS the church.  Amen.

Rodger Nishioka is the Benton Family Chair in Christian Education at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, GA.

A Prayer of Confession Inspired by Psalm 106

The following prayer of Confession was written by Stephen Fearing and used at Conyers Presbyterian Church in Conyers, Georgia on Sunday, October 27th, 2013.  On this date, CPC dedicated the newest addition to their worship life, the new Presbyterian Hymnal, Glory to God.  The sung response throughout this confession is hymn number 576 in Glory to God.  It is a simple, heartfelt, and concise sung confession that can be easily learned in almost any group.  The confession is based off of the text of Psalm 106.

Forgive us for what we have done….
                                We have sinned.
                                We have rebelled.
                                We have forgotten your works.
                                We have put you to the test.
                                We have worshipped idols.
                                We have grumbled, provoked, and angered you.
                                We have sinned.
                                          (Kyrie #576)

Forgive us for what we have left undone….
                                We have not considered your wonderful works.
                                We have not remembered the abundance
                                               of your steadfast love.
                                We have not waited for your word.
                                We have not had faith in your promise.
                                We have not served you.
                                (Kyrie #576)

Remember us, O Lord.
                                Show favor upon us, your people.
                                Save us, O Lord our God, and gather us
                                that we might give thanks in your holy name
                                and glory in your praise.
                                           (Kyrie #576)

"Death Has Died, No Longer Holds Us"

Well, here it is: my first ever attempt at hymnody. The following text that I have composed is structured as 8.7.8.7. D. Suggested tunes are ABBOT'S LEIGH, BEECHER, HOLY MANNA, HYFRYDOL, HYMN TO JOY, and NETTLETON. Death has died, no longer holds us; God's embrace and love endure. Never ceasing, always blessing, grace has found us, made us sure. God the Alpha and Omega gives us life anew each day. Christ has died and Christ is Risen; all our fears have passed away.

Text by Stephen Fearing.

"Glory to God" | Sung Response to Assurance of Pardon

Here is a youtube video of a congregation singing one of my favorite parts of the upcoming Presbyterian Hymnal, "Glory to God." The song is an adaptation of the Gloria Patri and is entitled "Glory to God (Whose Goodness Shines on Me)" by Paul Vasile. You can find the piano music here. Although this song can be used as a "stand-alone" hymn, it works best as a sung response to the Assurance of Pardon. Enjoy!

Doubting Thomas | Nickel Creek | Second Sunday in Easter (Year C)

One of my favorite Nickel Creek Songs, "Doubting Thomas" is a great way to get the gears going for preparation for the Second Sunday in Lent (Year C). You can listen to the beautiful song here. Doubting Thomas by Nickel Creek

What will be left when I've drawn my last breath Besides the folks I've met and the folks who've known me Will I discover a soul-saving love Or just the dirt above and below me

I'm a doubting Thomas I took a promise But I do not feel safe Oh me of little faith

Sometimes I pray for a slap in the face Then I beg to be spared cause I'm a coward If there's a master of death I bet he's holding his breath As I show the blind and tell the deaf about his power

I'm a doubting Thomas I can't keep my promises Cause I don't know what's safe Oh me of little faith

Can I be used to help others find truth When I'm scared I'll find proof that it's a lie Can I be led down a trail dropping bread crumbs That prove I'm not ready to die

Please give me time to decipher the signs Please forgive me for time that I've wasted

I'm a doubting Thomas I'll take your promise Though I know nothin's safe Oh me of little faith

Holy Week Devotional Guide (Year C)

The following is a Holy Week Devotional Guide organized by Hillary Ann Golden via asacredjourney.net. The opening prayers for Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday are taken from prayers previously posted on this blog. May God continue to bless you through this Holy Week as we prepare to praise the Risen Christ! You can download this free devotional guide here.

Benediction (Iona) | Easter (Year C)

This is a prayer from the Iona community. It is a responsive benediction that is best led (in my opinion) not from the pulpit, lectern, font, or table but in the very midst of the people with confidence, conviction, and clarity.* The cross, we will take it. The bread, we will break it. The pain, we will bear it. The joy, we will share it. The Gospel, we will live it. The love, we will give it. The light, we will cherish it. The darkness, God shall perish it!

This is a prayer that I first experienced at a worship service at Central Presbyterian Church in downtown Atlanta, Georgia. I have used this as the responsive benediction for most of the Sundays that I have been preaching at Silver Creek Presbyterian Church in Rome, Georgia. I love this prayer for many reasons. First and foremost, like any good liturgy, the language is rhythmic, poetic and yet very easy to grasp. The responsive nature of the benediction gives a sense of shared responsibility among the congregation. It is almost as if the one presiding and the congregation are making a promise to themselves or, perhaps more accurately, are keeping a promise already made to them by God. As this prayer is uttered as we prepare to follow the Word into the world, this prayer empowers us by reminding us that it is our job to cherish the light and it is God’s job to perish the darkness!

*worship spaces differ greatly. For some communities, the table and font are the central focal point with the congregation gathered around them. If so, this prayer would best be done from that location. If not, care should be taken that the physical location of this liturgy is intimate!

Call to Worship (or Laughter) | Easter (Year C)

I found this liturgy by Thom Shuman and I had to share! What a brilliant representation of the absurdity of the cross and the defiance of the empty tomb. It reminds me of the reason why I prefer to call Easter Sunday "'Suck it, Rome!' Sunday." May we all continue to preach the joke that God has forever played on death! One: This is the time to rejoice! All: What better time than now! One: This is the day to laugh: What did the cabbage pastor say to the people? Pastor: Lettuce pray! One: How many choir directors does it take to change a light bulb? Choir: No one knows, because no one ever watches the director! One: How many Presbyterians does it take to change a light bulb? All: Change? Presbyterians don't believe in change! One: What's the greatest joke ever? All: The one God played on death on Easter morning!

On the Other Side of the Split

I want to tell you a story about a small church in Northwest Georgia. About this time a year ago, they were a congregation of around 100 persons. Then, after a long and painful struggle, they split. Halfway through a week in May of last year, the pastor, session, and over half the congregation left to begin another church in another Presbyterian denomination.

Ironically, the first Sunday after the split was Pentecost and the pastor that led the charge to leave the church was quoted in a newspaper speaking of the "delight" of a new church being born on Pentecost.

Of course, nothing was said about the fractured community that they left behind in order to do so.

However, the people who decided to stay did so because they didn't believe that certain issues were worth splitting over.

So they stuck with it.

They decided to come together and continue preaching the Gospel and doing the ministry they have been embodying for well over 100 years.

And so, they called a young seminarian and invited him to preach and lead worship with them in October, November, and December. These three months continued into January and February.

Throughout this time, this community ministered to me (the young seminarian) by giving him a space to preach, teach, speak and listen, and grow as a pastor. In my time with them, they ministered to me by giving me an opportunity to preach weekly, teach Sunday school, write liturgy, organize worship, preside at a funeral service, do pastoral care, and stretch my wings as one preparing to serve as teaching elder in the PC(USA).

Yesterday, I said goodbye to them for the next chapter of our lives as I begin a new position at another church. Yet I will always hold them in my heart as a community that loved me and encouraged me to keep the faith and fight the good fight.

To the people who are Silver Creek Presbyterian Church: thank you, thank you, thank you! Your strength has given me strength and your endurance has given me endurance. May the light of Christ continue to shine through y'all and the ministry to which y'all have been called!

And to my readers: remember that there is life on the other side of the split. For the ministry of Christ does not depend on our size or our glamour; it depends only on our faithfulness.

And Silver Creek Presbyterian Church has plenty!

These Things Did Thomas Count As Real

The following poem is a piece by Thomas Troeger and is a beautiful piece of art. Christ is Risen! He is Risen indeed!

These things did Thomas count as real: the warmth of blood, the chill of steel, the grain of wood, the heft of stone, the last frail twitch of flesh and bone.

The vision of his skeptic mind was keen enough to make him blind to any unexpected act too large for his small world of fact.

His reasoned certainties denied that one could live when one had died, until his fingers read like Braille the markings of the spear and nail.

May we, O God, by grace believe And thus the risen Christ receive, whose raw, imprinted palms reach out - and beckoned Thomas from his doubt.

-Thomas Troeger copyright 1994 Oxford University Press

Resonating the Gospel

It had been a long day. In fact, it had been a long week. The past several days had been spent training a new group of counselors to be faithful, joyful, and responsible stewards of the children that would join us in fellowship at Camp Cherokee in the summer of 2012. Jean and Kelly Howington, the directors of Cherokee Retreat Center (a ministry of Cherokee Presbytery) and I had spent these long days and nights equipping us all with the many skills needed to embark upon this sacred calling of Christian fellowship. The counselors were (understandably) exhausted and we were all ready for a couple days off before the first sounds of campers echoed through the hundred acres of Cherokee Retreat Center.

Before we adjourned, however, we escaped the muggy heat of the early evening and gathered in the dining hall of Parker Lodge for a closing worship before we enjoyed our much-deserved R & R. As the sun dipped behind the shores of Lake Allatoona, we sat cross-legged in a circle on the hard wood floors with a series of candles and liturgical dressings in the middle. The service began.

In the fashion familiar to all of us, we were called to worship and I began to lead an opening song on my guitar. I then invited us into a time of confession. We confessed our sins both silently and then together using a corporate prayer of confession.

I then mustered up a smile and assured the weary staff that our sins had been forgiven. "Hear the good news of the Gospel: Jesus Christ was crucified, died, and was buried. But that is not the end of that story and it certainly is not the end of our own for on the third day Christ rose from the dead that we might be forgiven of our sins and live as a new creation! Hallelujah!"

In response to this good news of the Gospel, we sang "Halle, Halle, Hallelujah," a tune which we all knew by heart. The rhythmic, Caribbean groove began to erupt from my guitar, resonate off the hard wood floors, and resound with the live acoustics of the room.

The first time through, it sucked. No one was inspired, myself included. We had just heard that the Resurrected Christ had, quite literally, just snatched us out of the jaws of death, claimed us as his own, freed us from sin, and defeated the power of death once and for all and....we just sat there, with a most uninspiring song on our lips and no true joy in our hearts.

Philip, however, would have none of this.

As we entered the second time through singing "Halle, Halle, Hallelujah," this 10 year old child of God and glad recipient of grace began to enthusiastically beat on the hard wood floor to the groove of the Caribbean melody. We looked at him and smiled...but continued in our lackluster singing.

Philip, however, would have none of this.

With stubbornness and determination (those gifts of the Spirit given to every 10 year old, I suppose), Philip continued to beat ever more enthusiastically on the hard wood floor with a contagious grin upon his face. He looked around, waiting for us to get our act together.

One by one, as we entered the third singing of our sung response to God's grace, we began to join Philip in his joy. Following the lead of this percussive 10 year old, some of us began clapping, others stamped on the floor, and others swayed back and forth with celebration in our hearts.

As we finished the song, the room was filled with a chorus of witnesses, responding to the assurance that we are forgiven, all because Philip had reminded us of what it meant to truly embody the joy of the Gospel.

Brothers and Sisters in Christ, the Gospel goes from empty tomb to empty words without the presence of the Spirit! It is only through the life-giving Spirit that the Gospel resonates within us in such a way that we cannot help but proclaim it with all our hearts and all of our bodies.

And sometimes, curiously enough, it takes the wisdom of a 10 year old to remind us of this truth.

Passing Through the Waters

Happy New Year and Happy Epiphany! I hope you have gotten the chance to enjoy some "down time" after the craziness of the holidays! I took advantage of a rare occasion such as this a few days ago! I have been preaching weekly at Silver Creek Presbyterian Church south of Rome, Georgia. However, as I am yet to be ordained as a pastor in the PC(USA), I get the first Sunday off since they bring in an ordained pastor to preside at the Table on those days. I took advantage of this past week off from preaching to visit St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in Tucker, Georgia where my dear friend, Joseph Taber, is currently interning. (I encourage you to check out his blog here). They recently remodeled their worship space and I was fascinated with their renovation and wish to share it with you!

"Because we have passed through the waters of baptism,

we dare to bare our souls before God..."

The above liturgy is taken from a Call to Confession from the Feasting on the Word Worship Companion for the current liturgical season. Of the many reasons to feast upon this liturgy is its emphasis on the movement of baptism. Simply put, Christian baptism represents the journey that we make because God first journeyed to us. Therefore, a liturgically healthy worshiping community (in my opinion) takes as many steps as possible to embody the baptismal promise that God makes to us on this wild and precious journey. The people who are St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church have done so in quite a few delightful ways!

First of all, you will notice that the font itself is designed (as many are) so that the water is completely visible. From virtually every angle, the water is visible and therefore emotionally and spiritually accessible. Enclosed fonts, especially those unfortunate ones with the lids, close us off from the waters of our baptism and convey that baptism is a private and distant event. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth! Baptism is a public embodiment as we proclaim God's promises both to us as individual children of God and as the corporate Body of Christ.

Secondly, I noticed the simplicity of this font. Overly decorated fonts, while perhaps intricate works of art unto themselves, tend to distract from what is used in baptism: water! The beautiful simplicity of the font above immediately directs your gaze upwards to the water and gets right to the point: this is about the cleansing water of baptism!

However, what I found most compelling and beautiful about this font was not the structure itself but rather its placement within the worship space as a whole.

The God in whose life and death we are baptized is none other than Emmanuel, God with us. As such, the placement of the font within the gathering of the people of God serves as a beautiful reminder that God's love for us is not distant and unattainable. Rather, the love promised to us in our baptisms is here among us as we are baptized into the death and resurrection of the Christ who was and is here among us! Another benefit of this placement is that the congregation is able to dip their hands in the font as they, quite literally, pass through their baptismal waters on the way to the Lord's Table, as we did this past Sunday.

Furthermore, this congregation's baptismal identity is not only reflected from within the sanctuary but from outside as well. While most pastors have horror stories regarding the often mundane and painful process of choosing carpet, I have a feeling that whatever process that produced this carpet in the narthex was well worth the discussion!

My good friend, Joseph Taber, let me in on a little secret: the carpet in the Narthex was specifically chosen to reflect the waters of Baptism! Therefore, the entire congregation has no choice but to pass through the waters of baptism on both the beginning and end of the journey that is worship. Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!

Thanks be to God for the promise made to us in our Baptisms! And thanks be to the people who are St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church for actively embodying this grace in a liturgically abundant way! This is an example of how intentional worship (which does not necessarily have to look exactly like this!) can nurture and sustain a holy space where the people of God are called to receive and respond to the Word of God that then sends us back through our baptismal waters to the world into which you and I are sent.

Grace and peace,

Stephen

Wall-Breakers!

     Just a few minutes ago, the Columbia Seminary Gospel choir (directed by Marcus Yates) led chapel.  Under his leadership and the accompaniment of Professor Tribble on the piano, the choir invited us into a lively, dynamic, grace-filled, and abundant conversational journey as a community.  I cannot thank them enough for the liberating worship that they led today.  We opened the worship by insisting that the Holy Spirit was welcome in this place!  What truth and grace there is when we open ourselves to Holy Spirit and her guidance!

     A few days ago, I posted a sermon entitled "Breaking the Fourth Wall."  http://our1wildandpreciouslife.blogspot.com/2012/11/breaking-fourth-wall.html  Of late I have been fascinated by the theatrical concept of "breaking the fourth wall" in which the "audience" is directly addressed and invited into the story in a very tangible way.  This metaphor is challenging me to rethink the way I worship.  How often do we have "fourth walls" in worship in which the congregation is more of an "audience" rather than the living body of Christ?  How often is worship simply a play in which those leading (I am a member of this group more often that not!) "do the action" while the congregation simply observes from "behind the fourth wall?"

     Today, the CTS Gospel Choir gave us a brilliant example of what it means to break the fourth wall in worship.  As a congregant sitting in the pew, I was invited by these "wall-breakers" to join the chorus of witnesses who proclaim God's grace!  The fourth wall was shattered and no longer was worship a simple producer/consumer relationship; the congregation was invited to contribute to the praise and proclamation of the word and the line between worship leader and congregant was blurred.

     Let us give thanks for our Sisters and Brothers in Christ who proclaim God's word in a way that invites all to join in the story which both begins and ends with God's faithful and good Word!  Let us continue the conversation and, as such, I welcome your thoughts on how we might continue to break the fourth wall in the worship that we are called to do!

Joy Too Abundant For Words

Many thanks to Sally Ann McKinsey Sisk, Rachel Hood, and Chris Vogado for their leadership in the worship service that inspired this post.  With much appreciation to John Fawcett for his musical invitation to see (and hear) things with a fresh grace.

     I have always loved words.  Of late I have become enchanted by the power of God-speech.  Today I was reminded that God-speech sometimes is prophetically uttered without words because, sometimes, words just won't do.
     At the chapel service today at Columbia Theological Seminary, this week's chapel leadership team led us in a reading of "the Prodigal Son."  Two readers came forth and began to read the familiar words:  "Then Jesus said, 'there was a man who had two sons...'"  It is not without a small amount of embarrassment that I admit to you that I almost immediately checked out after the second verse.  I, like so many others, have heard this story countless times and know exactly how it ends.  But, as I have discovered, the Spirit has a holy and unpredictable way of reorienting us in fascinating and invigorating ways.
     As the story continued and my mind wandered away (perhaps ironic given the content of the story), something happened that ripped me from my distraction.  As the prodigal son returned home to find the father awaiting him eagerly with joyful celebration on the agenda, the liturgists uttered these words of the passage:  "Now the elder son was in the field...and he heard music and dancing."  At that precise moment as the reading continued, a friend and colleague of mine, leaning casually against the wall of the chapel with guitar in hand, began playing music that immediately reoriented me to the story in a way I have never experienced before.  The tune was soft and yet playful and warm.  A very physical joy enveloped me as I heard the beautiful, celebratory music.  Simply put, the music forced me (I use that term intentionally) to feel the passage in a new way.
     I found myself standing shoulder to shoulder with the elder son as his father explained to both of us why there was such an abundant feast going on inside for our jerk of a brother.  We found that the music, more so than the words, expressed to us that this is a time of joy.  And what's more, this joy in this moment was too abundant for words alone to embody.  So perhaps the best way to understand God's grace is to stop talking about it and go inside and join the feast!

The Sacrament of Subway

     Have you ever had the Holy Spirit completely and unapologetically explode into your life?  Such an explosion happened to me a few weeks ago and there is a part of me that will not rest until I share it with you.

     Tuesdays are my busiest days this semester at Columbia Theological Seminary.  My identities as student, teaching assistant, preacher, and musician seem to converge (and sometimes collide!) on this particular day of the week.  It usually looks something like this....

     I wake up around 7:30 and have breakfast and run through my Hebrew vocabulary.  At 9:00 A.M. I have Hebrew plenary and then immediately leave at 10:00 A.M. to spend a couple of hours at one of two of my favorite coffee joints to get some reading done.  After grabbing a quick bite to eat for lunch I usually spend an hour or so preparing for choir rehearsal at 3:30 (I am the Choir Director here at the seminary).  Just as rehearsal finishes, I serve as a teaching assistant and lead a one-hour practicum on the art of reading scripture aloud.  Finally, I then serve as a teaching assistant for the introduction to worship class from 6:00 to 9:30.  I'm sure that this schedule would be exhausting for anyone but the rather strong introvert inside of me often finds itself retreating to the fetal position by the end of the day!

     I have found a particular ritual that has helped me during the chaos of my Tuesdays.  I have a very small window between 5:30 and 6:00 where, every Tuesday, I drive to the Subway that is in the Walmart a mile or so away from the campus.

     On this particular Tuesday in question, I was even more frazzled than what is normal on such a day.  I ran out of Campbell Hall after dismissing my fellow colleagues, my steps deliberately leading me towards my silver Ford Fiesta.  I was on a mission and I would be damned if I let either God or man deter me from my goal.  As I stepped on the clutch to bring my engine to life, I sped out of the parking lot, causing a group of innocent squirrels running for cover.  As Murphy's Law would have it, I got stuck behind one of those God-forsaken MARTA buses.  The squirrels had probably just begun to cautiously poke their heads out of their holes back on campus as I frantically pulled into a parking spot at Walmart, cursing the people who had left their empty shopping carts in the two spots closer to the building.

     As I power walked into the Subway, feeling important with my green Society of Biblical Literature tote bag over my shoulder, I approached the counter of the Subway to receive my nourishment to finish my day.  I had finished the race, I had fought the good fight!  

     But....(there's always a but!), a woman with her two children had preceded me in line and, of course, there was only one person working the place.  As I muttered some rather non-reverent words under my breath, I watched as the woman working the counter slowly, methodically, and perhaps even lovingly placed each slice of meat, each dash of pepper, each portion of tomato, on the three sandwiches.

     Really!?!? I thought, you've got to be kidding me!  Can't you see how important I am?  Can't you see I'm in a rush so I can go continue to do the work of the Lord?  

     And then....it happened.  A feeling which I find hard to explain erupted within me.  I caught myself (or, perhaps better said, I was myself caught).  I stopped.  I looked at the sandwich and a voice inside of me said, wow, that really is a beautiful sandwich.  A beautiful, grace-filled calm surrounded me as a warm smile crept upon my lips.  For the rest of the evening, tired though I was, a peace that passes understanding fell upon my shoulders.  A peace rained down on my frantic mindset because it really was a beautiful meal prepared by loving hands.

     In the weeks since this explosion of the Spirit, I have come to interpret this event as a sacramental one.  John Calvin speaks of the sacraments as moments when we, as God's people, are lifted up by the Holy Spirit to gain a grace-filled glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven.  This explosion of the Holy Spirit into my very being on this evening at Subway was a sacramental one for I was rather physically lifted out of myself and placed within a larger narrative.  As I watched this one worker prepare sandwiches for a mother and her family, I was reminded that she was not the first person to break bread with loving hands.  Christ invites us to the table to give us broken bread offered with loving hands, hands that lift us out of ourselves and into one another.

     Friends, the presence of the Holy Spirit in the moment of the sacraments forces us to reinterpret and re-imagine the narrative of our lives.  Perhaps, then, a normal piece of bread amid the chaos of our lives might even place upon us the grace we need to continue the call.  

                           Grace and peace,

                           Stephen

     

The Defiance of Prayer

              http://www.cpcatlanta.org/worship_music/article204981.htm

      Ever since I began worshiping at Central Presbyterian Church here in Atlanta, Georgia, I have been enchanted by their three-dimensional prayers of the people.  For an extended period every year since 2008, the people who are Central Presbyterian Church elevate an estimated 2000 multicolored paper cranes which dangle from the sanctuary ceiling.  These origami creations are made by the congregants themselves and many of them contain the prayers that were on the hearts of their creators.  On the International Day of Peace, the congregation erects “A Wing and a Prayer,” and for a period of several weeks, the brilliant prayers of the people hover amidst the worshiping body as they literally lift their prayer to God.

        As simultaneously prayer and offering, the creation rises above the pews and grasps the imagination of all those who gaze upon it.  Often throughout worship, I find myself pondering the mysterious beauty of this congregation’s physical embodiment of prayer.

        Like any great piece of art, its presence evokes a diverse range of interpretations.  On some Sundays, I am intrigued by the fact that this congregation has embodied prayer in a very physical, tangible way.  The prayer was created by hours and hours of folding by the people of this community with their hands, the very hands God has given them to be the body of Christ in the world.

       Other Sundays, I am left in curiosity, pondering what each prayer says and I am forced to remind myself that God alone knows our every prayer.

      Yet another Sunday I might be fascinated by the fact that this “prayers of the people” is at once individual and communal; each person (quite literally) lifts up a prayer which becomes a corporate offering to God on behalf of the community that at once both speaks to God and speaks to us on God’s behalf.

        This Sunday, for some reason, I found a beautiful defiance in this prayer as I worshiped directly beneath its mysterious presence.  It is quite remarkable, I thought to myself, how this piece of art inspires a sense of awe while reminding us that we come together as the worshiping body to pray to God who alone is the source of all goodness and grace.  What is perhaps even more remarkable is the fact that we dare raise such a beautiful creation in the midst of what too often seems to be a dark and dismal world.  Despite it all, or perhaps because of it all, we lift our prayers to God.

                As Atlanta continues to serve as a hub for human sex trafficking, we lift our prayers to God.

    As the homeless woman tries to stay warm in the cooler weather, we lift our prayers to God.

                As senseless killings happen around the world, we lift our prayers to God.

                As the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, we lift our prayers to God.

                As we ravage this earth we were called to preserve, we lift our prayers to God.

         What a beautiful image of quiet defiance that we dare raise such beauty to God when we are surrounded by such grief and brokenness?  Such defiance is the voice of Jacob who refuses to let God go until God blesses him.  Such defiance is the voice of the woman who will not let the judge ignore her.  Such defiance is the voice of Paul who is not ashamed of the gospel.  Such defiance is the voice of John who dares to tell us that there will be a day when tears will be no more and God will have the final word. 

         So the next time you are in downtown Atlanta, stop by Central Presbyterian Church.  Lift your eyes upward and gaze in wonder at the mystery of prayer.  Dare to lift your own prayers to a God who listens.  Lift your prayer to God who lifts us from the depths of an empty tomb and raises us to new life in Christ.  And as your eyes traverse the whispers of our prayers, remember that we have never worshiped a God who is happy with leaving us alone.