Perceptions from a Pewboy

Difficult as it might be to believe, we are about to enter the season of Advent. The word “advent” is a derivative of a Latin word, “adventus,” which means “coming”. During the four week season of Advent, Christian people prepare themselves for Christmas by centering themselves in the truth that the God of the Ages is a “coming” or “advent-ing” God—a God who CAME to us long ago on that first Christmas night; a God who COMES to us even now through the continuing work of the Holy Spirit; and a God who WILL COME to us one day in the future, when Christ returns for the purpose of completing the Kingdom that he inaugurated through his life, death, and resurrection.

Even as I type these words, I am praying for a prayer for my experience of this Advent season. My prayer sounds something like this:

This Advent, I pray that I will become a little bit like Mary, the peasant girl who made herself available to the strange and life-altering purposes of God. Mary was obedient to God’s disruptive calling upon her life. How might I become more Mary-like this Advent in my sacrificial obedience to God?

This Advent, I pray that I will become a little bit like Joseph, the carpenter who took Mary as his wife even though he did not comprehend all the details of her pregnancy. Joseph trusted in God in spite of his lack of a complete understanding of God’s providential plan. How might I become more Joseph-like this Advent in my trustful reliance upon God, even when I lack a complete understanding of the circumstances that surround me?

This Advent, I pray that I will become a little bit like John, the prophetic soul who baptized people in the wilderness and who preached about the urgency of repentance. John made clear that authentic repentance is the only condition that enables a human heart to accommodate the presence of the coming Savior. How might I become more John-like this Advent in my personal repentance and in my desire to turn away from anything that would compromise the integrity of my discipleship?

This Advent, I pray that I will become a little bit like the shepherds, who left behind their important work in the fields in order to see what was happening in Bethlehem. The shepherds allowed their lives to be interrupted by the activity of God. They left their familiar surroundings for the purpose of glimpsing the holiness of God’s revelation. How might I become more shepherd-like this Advent in my willingness to be interrupted by God’s revelations? How might I step outside of some of this season’s busy routines in order to experience the in-breaking presence of God?

This Advent, I pray that I will become a little bit like the angels, whose joyful outbursts echoed through the sky on that first Christmas night. The angels’ eagerness to adore God bears witness to the urgency of worshipful praise. How might I become more angel-like this Advent in my worship and adoration of God? How might I become more faithful in my rendering of praise to the One whose majesty and glory demand nothing less than my wholehearted celebration?

This Advent, perhaps most of all, I pray that I will become a little bit like Jesus, whose entrance into human history is the incarnation of God’s radical and far-reaching love for humankind. How might I become more Christ-like this Advent in my loving and outreach? How might I incarnate the love of God in new and creative ways for the sake of my family, my friends, my neighbors, my co-workers, and my congregation?

I know from personal experience that, if I am not intentional in my spiritual focus, the days of this holy season may very well slip by me unnoticed. I am committed to not allowing that to happen. I am endeavoring to make this Advent into a season of fervent prayer, quiet listening, joyful worship, counter-cultural obedience, and incarnational love. I am doing everything I can to allow the days of Advent to become a transformational personal journey into the spiritual likeness of the different characters of the Christmas story. That way, when Christmas comes, I will be able to approach the manger rightly, eager to welcome the Christ who comes to us once again.

November of 2008 marks the 35th anniversary of the release of “A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.” I watched it every year during my childhood. These days, in my “adult childhood,” I still make it a point to watch it every November.

Here are some of my favorite components of “A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving:”

-SNOOPY’S BATTLE WITH THE ORNERY LAWN CHAIR—Tapping into the frustration that most of us have experienced with uncooperative folding lawn furniture, Snoopy’s passionate fight with the anthropomorphic chair ranks as one of the great moments in all of animation. I think about that scene whenever I have difficulty opening up the folding chairs at church—which is often.

-FRANKLIN’S UNIQUE GREETING WHEN ENTERING THE HOME OF CHARLIE BROWN—When Peppermint Patty and Marcie come through the door, they greet Charlie Brown with simple hellos. But when Franklin, the only African-American boy in the story, comes into the house, he and Charlie Brown exchange a pronounced and audible slap of hands. In light of the fact that this was 1973, such a greeting was a slap heard round the world—one that signaled the arrival of a new age of race relations, even in the world of animation.

-SNOOPY’S PANICKED EXPRESSION WHEN HEARING THE INVITATION TO PRAY OVER DINNER—Peppermint Patty calls for someone to pray over the Thanksgiving meal. Snoopy, in a split-second response, looks suddenly panicked, as though he’s afraid that someone will look to him for the prayerful words. That split-second makes me laugh every year, if for no other reason than its illumination of a spiritually reluctant family pet.

-SNOOPY’S TOASTED EAR—While preparing for Thanksgiving Dinner, Woodstock the bird accidentally puts Snoopy’s ear in the toaster, then butters it. Now that’s physical comedy.

-WOODSTOCK’S FONDNESS FOR POULTRY—It hit me in late elementary school that, in the closing scene, when Snoopy and Woodstock sit down for a turkey dinner, Woodstock was actually committing a form of cannibalism before my very eyes! I wonder if the turkey was accompanied by some fava beans and a nice chianti.

-AN ECLECTIC THANKSGIVING MEAL—The actual meal that Charlie Brown serves to his friends includes jellybeans, pretzels, popcorn, and toast—just like the pilgrims ate.

-LINUS’ PRAYER—When Linus quotes the prayer that was prayed by Elder William Brewster at the first Thanksgiving meal, it is the only moment in the entire animation that his security blanket is not visible. What a winsomely subtle way of making the point that, when Linus experiences the security of prayer, he doesn’t need the blanket.

-THE SPONTANEOUS REJOICING—When the children receive word that they are all invited to Charlie Brown’s grandmother’s house for a real Thanksgiving dinner, they erupt with a joyful fervency normally reserved for Steeler games and Pentecostal worship services. Snoopy is making more popcorn at the time.

-THE REALISTIC SINGING—In the car, when the children sing “Over the River and Through the Woods,” they are neither unified in their tempo nor disciplined about their tonality—meaning that they sounded exactly like every group of singing children that I have ever heard (except for the Jackson 5 and that time that the Brady Bunch kids became the Silver Platters).

-THE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF THE MOVEMENT TO SUBURBIA—“There’s only one problem with that song,” Charlie Brown says about the bucolic “Over the River and Through the Woods.”

“What’s that, Charlie Brown?”

“My grandmother lives in a condominium!”

By uttering those six words, Charlie Brown concludes the production with a bold and prophetic acknowledgement of the frightening implications of suburban sprawl!

This is Christ the King weekend in the Christian tradition. Although “Christ the King” is frequently ignored because of its proximity to the culture’s celebration of Thanksgiving, it is nevertheless an important yearly affirmation and celebration of the Lordship and universal Kingship of Jesus Christ. Given the fact that our nation just elected a new president, Christ the King weekend has about it a particular sense of urgency this year. On Christ the King weekend, the church celebrates the fact that, no matter who is in the White House, the Lord Jesus Christ still occupies the most important office of all.

During this year’s Christ the King weekend, the song “Come Be Our King” will be part of my church’s liturgy at all three of our weekend worship services. The lyrics of that song have become a personal prayer for me in recent days:

Yours is the throne of eternity. Come fill the throne of our heart.

Yours is a kingdom of righteousness. Come now your reign to impart.

Chorus: Come, Lord Jesus, reign in us. King of Glory, reign in us.

Be the Monarch of our mind. Be the Sovereign of our soul.
Bring your Lordship into our lives. Come be our King. Come be our King.

You are the Lord of creation. Come now your people to raise.
You govern with wisdom unspeakable. Come wear the crown of our praise. (chorus)

Truth, grace, and love are your politics. Holiness covers your throne

Now be enthroned in your people. Come now and make us your own. (chorus)

I pray that all of you will experience this often-overlooked weekend in the Christian year as a unique opportunity to reflect upon the peculiar royalty of the One we follow. He is the Lord of Creation and the Savior of the world. He is the supreme and only ruler of a Kingdom that he himself established through his life, death, and resurrection. He is a monarch whose reign is eternal (meaning that he never has to campaign, thank God—and he never has to be re-elected!).

In short, on Christ the King weekend, we remember that the Kingdom of God is not a democracy but a monarchy, one that will stand long after all the other kingdoms of this world have fallen.

The question that I find myself pondering, however, is a question that relocates my focus from the cosmic significance of Jesus’ kingship to its personal implications. The question to which I am making reference is this: Although Jesus is the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords, am I allowing him to occupy the throne of my heart? In other words, am I allowing the Lord Jesus to hold governance over every segment of my living, so that my entire life bears consistent witness to the ongoing reality of his kingdom?

Indeed, come, Lord Jesus, reign in us. King of Glory, reign in us.

Do you remember Rev. Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple in Jonestown, Guyana? The Peoples Temple was a doomsday cult and Jim Jones was its charismatic leader. In November of 1978 (thirty years ago), Jim Jones and his staff, fearing a government crackdown and fueled by delusions of apocalyptic grandeur, convinced their people to commit mass suicide by drinking a beverage laced with cyanide. Those who would not commit suicide were murdered. In all, 914 people died, 276 of whom were children.

As a twelve-year-old boy, I watched the news reports in the aftermath of that horrific tragedy. I saw the photographs of the dead bodies lying side by side. I remember wondering to myself, “How could something like this happen? How could so many people come to the conclusion that it was a good and acceptable thing to do something that was so violent and so destructive?”

My answer came from an FBI agent who had just investigated the site and who had agreed to be interviewed by a television reporter. With tears in his eyes and a look of utter disbelief on his face, the FBI agent spoke these words: “Those people,” he said, “were misled and corrupted because they didn’t understand the true nature of the man they were following.”

Even as a twelve year old, I sensed that there was something profoundly true about his words. Even at that young age, I had begun to understand that much of who we are and much of who we become is dependent upon the nature of who or what we are following. And make no mistake about it, everyone is following something or someone, whether they know it or not.

Some people follow a particular philosophy or a set of intellectual presuppositions, all of which form their perception of reality and their desire to live life in a particular fashion. Some people adhere to a self-help or a self-improvement ethos and would be willing to follow Dr. Phil into a burning house. Some people follow a plan for upward mobility and financial success, and much of the content of their life is dictated by the requirements of that plan. Some people follow the goal of having the perfect family at all costs, and they are willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of keeping their family members happy and comfortable. Some people follow L. Ron Hubbard and the teachings of Scientology. Or the Koran and the teachings of Islam. Or the Bhagavad Gita and the teachings of Hinduism. Or the Dalai Lama and the teachings of Buddhism. Or Jim Jones and the teachings of the Peoples Temple in Jonestown, Guyana.

Indeed, everyone is following something or someone, whether they know it or not. And much of who we are, much of who we become, is dependent upon the nature of who or what we are following. If we are unaware of the nature of who or what we are following, then there is always the risk that we will be led down a dangerous and destructive road, which was precisely the point of that FBI agent in the aftermath of the Guyana tragedy: “Those people,” he said, “were misled and corrupted because they didn’t understand the true nature of the man they were following.”

This upcoming weekend is a unique opportunity for us to remember the true nature of the One we are following. I say that because this weekend is Christ the King Weekend. (I describe it as Christ the King Weekend rather than Christ the King Sunday because the church that I serve holds a Saturday evening worship service.) Christ the King Weekend, often overlooked in the Christian calendar, is nevertheless a yearly opportunity for the entire church to reflect upon the peculiar royalty and the universal Lordship of Jesus Christ.

More specifically, Christ the King Weekend is an opportunity for the church to remember that the One we follow is not simply a prophet or a healer or a philosopher or a teacher. Rather, the One we follow is the Lord of all creation and the Savior of the world. He is the supreme and only ruler of the kingdom that he himself established—the kingdom that will stand long after all the other kingdoms of this world have fallen. He holds perfect authority over all the forces of this world, seen and unseen, good and evil. He is a monarch whose reign is eternal, meaning that he never has to campaign, he never has to be re-elected, and he never has to say, “I’m Jesus and I approved this message.”

In short, on Christ the King Weekend, we remember that the One we follow is a King who is as righteous as he is reliable, as replete with truth as he is with grace.

Thirty years ago, 914 people died in Guyana because they did not know the nature of the man they were following. The remembrance of that thirty-year-old tragedy makes me all the more grateful for Jesus Christ, who came into the world that people might have life and have it in abundance.

Eugene Peterson’s “The Jesus Way” is a book that occupied a space on one of my shelves for the last year. Last week, I finally read it.

One of the strengths of the book, I think, is its sharply prophetic take on the utilitarian way in which the church often approaches ministry. According to Peterson, the church’s current fondness for an “end justifies the means” approach to ministry represents an unprecedented opportunity for church growth. Unfortunately, it also poses a great threat to the integrity of the Way of Jesus Christ. In Peterson’s words, sometimes the ways in which we follow the Way are contrary to the ways in which Jesus leads his followers:

More often than not, I find my Christian brothers and sisters uncritically embracing the ways and means practiced by the high-profile men and women who lead large corporations, congregations, nations, and causes, people who show us how to make money, win wars, manage people, sell products, manipulate emotions, and who then write books or give lectures telling us how we can do what they are doing. But those ways and means more often than not violate the ways of Jesus. (Eugene Peterson, “The Jesus Way: A Conversation on the Ways that Jesus Is the Way, ” Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdman’s Publishing Company, 2007, page 8.)

Peterson suggests that this penchant for embracing any methodology that “works” emerges from a cultural proclivity to valuing efficiency over integrity. This does not mean, of course, that a particular ministry cannot be both efficient and rich with integrity. Peterson’s point is simply that, if it comes to a choice between the two, many North American churches will side with the way of efficiency:

North American Christians are conspicuous for going along with whatever the culture decides is charismatic, successful, influential—whatever gets things done, whatever can gather a crowd of followers—hardly noticing that these ways and means are at odds with the clearly marked way that Jesus walked and called us to follow. Doesn’t anybody notice that the ways and means taken up, often enthusiastically, are blasphemously at odds with the way Jesus leads his followers? Why doesn’t anyone notice? (page 8.)

Some would say that Peterson is painting with far too broad of a brush in his ecclesiastical analysis. Perhaps he is. I will freely acknowledge that I was not at all eager to give much credence to his critique of what he perceives to be the church’s fondness for utilitarianism.

Yesterday, however, I walked into the wonderful church that I am privileged to serve and was greeted by a small poster on one of the bulletin boards for Cash4Gold, a refining company that specializes in purchasing secondhand jewelry. Cash4Gold, interestingly, is one of the biggest sponsors of the Howard Stern show on Sirius Satellite Radio (which, of course, bears witness to the company’s willingness to overlook a program’s character if it means gaining wider exposure).

Why is the Cash4Gold poster on my church’s bulletin board? Because one of the church’s ministries is utilizing the company in order to raise money for itself. People will bring their old jewelry to the church, and a representative from Cash4Gold will make an offer for the jewelry. All money raised will go to ministry.

In one sense, I suppose that there is nothing wrong with such an endeavor. After all, how is it different than the flea markets and bake sales that many church’s employ for the purpose of raising money for ministry? On the other hand, something caused me to mutter three questions to myself yesterday as I walked into the church. Those three questions were these: “What in the world does a secular refining company have to do with raising money for the ministry of the church? Isn’t ministry dependent upon the generosity and stewardship of the church’s people? And what changes occur in the ethos of a ministry when we begin to fund the ministry with the ways of the world?”

I immediately answered all of these questions for myself in a generically utilitarian fashion. “Well,” I said to myself, “the money will go to a good cause, and so all is well.” The end, in other words, justifies the means.

But here are the deeper questions with which I am left: Has the church grown so comfortable with making partnerships with the world’s way of doing business that it has lost its focus on the peculiarity and uniqueness of the Way of Jesus Christ? Has the church become so utilitarian in its fundraising and growth methodologies that it has diminished its own capacity to incarnate the often countercultural ethics of the kingdom of God? Has the church believed for so long that the end justifies the means that we have begun to accommodate a distorted sense of what constitutes acceptable means and, for that matter, our truest end?

I have no easy answers for those questions. But I am grateful for Eugene Peterson and his willingness to raise them in “The Jesus Way.”

Today, I attended a Service of Death and Resurrection in celebration of the life of Reverend Charles (Chuck) Goodin. The service took place at Franklin Street United Methodist Church in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. It was a poignant time of worship that both glorified the Triune God and illuminated the life of a brother in Christ whose presence will be dearly missed by many.

In the retired relationship since 1999, Chuck served as a United Methodist pastor in the Western Pennsylvania Annual Conference for well over 40 years. Most recently, in his retirement, he served as chaplain at Arbutus Park Retirement Community in Johnstown.

Back in the summer of 1988 (just over twenty years ago), I participated in the United Methodist intern program here in western Pennsylvania. At the time, I was a 22-year-old recent college graduate who was a few months away from beginning his seminary studies. The people overseeing the internship program made the decision to assign me to First United Methodist Church in Greenville, Pennsylvania. The pastor of that church was none other than Chuck Goodin.

For three months during the summer of 1988, Chuck mentored me and put me to meaningful work. During the mornings, I ministered with children and youth in the church and community. During the afternoons and evenings, Chuck and I shared together in the ministry of visitation. We visited with people in hospitals and nursing homes. We also visited with people in the comfort of their living rooms and kitchens. Somehow, no matter where the evening took us, we wound up at Dairy Queen, talking and laughing over a Banana Split or a Peanut Buster Parfait.

Those were good and important days for me. During those three months, Chuck blessed me with his integrity and his graciousness. He inspired me with his devotion to pastoral care and his love for the church. He helped me to appreciate both the beauty and the struggle of local church ministry.

We laughed a great deal together that summer. We also moved beneath the laughter rather effortlessly in order to experience with one another the depths of prayer and the complexities of theological dialogue.

Chuck Goodin was a mentor to me. He was also my friend. He taught me that authentic ministry is not ultimately about clever programing and shrewd leadership techniques. Rather, in the end, ministry is about preaching the Way of Christ and incarnating the time-consuming relational intimacy of his love. Chuck did both faithfully throughout his ministry.

It was a profound honor to sit with my mother and father in worship this day as the congregation sang praises to God and gave thanks for one of the newest members of the great cloud of witnesses.

In the process of cleaning out some of my files at the church, I discovered this list of behavioral parameters that I developed several years back for a covenant group called NEW COMMUNITY. I facilitated this covenant group and remember it fondly. I thought that some of you might be interested in reading through the list of behavioral parameters by which we endeavored to live.

Parameters for “NEW COMMUNITY”

16. And, by the way, love one another.

At long last, I have found something redemptive about “Dancing with the Stars!”

It is interesting to me that next weekend’s lectionary gospel reading is Jesus’ parable about the ten bridesmaids and their lamps (Matthew 25:1-13). Five of the bridesmaids, never waning in their anticipation of the arrival of the bridegroom, keep their lamps well-fueled, that they might be fully prepared should the bridegroom arrive in the dark hours of the night. The other five bridesmaids, however, allow themselves to slip into an inexplicable condition of foolish apathy concerning their degree of preparedness. Their supply of oil runs low, and they do not replenish it in a timely fashion.

When the bridegroom finally arrives, the five unprepared bridesmaids are elsewhere, desperately searching for some oil for their lamps. As a result, the five unprepared bridesmaids miss the wedding. They are shut out because they lost sight of the urgency of a well-fueled lamp.

The kingdom of heaven, Jesus says, is something like this story.

If that is indeed true, then we can draw some significant conclusions:

–The kingdom of heaven is a condition in which people are so thoroughly enlivened, impassioned, and transformed by the reality of Jesus Christ that they stubbornly refuse to succumb to the dullness, the apathy, and the indifference that so often characterize the human pilgrimage.

–The kingdom of heaven is a daily realm in which followers of Jesus approach life, not with a spirit of dullness, but with a spirit of unwavering zeal; not with a spirit of apathy, but with a spirit of relentless joy; not with a spirit of indifference, but with a spirit of vibrant preparedness, as though they sense that they are preparing for something eternal.

–The kingdom of heaven, in other words, is a way of living in which followers of Jesus approach all of life, not with empty spiritual lamps, but with lamps that are well-fueled by a radical commitment to the things of God, a radical obedience to the statutes of God, and a radical devotion to the ministry of God.

Over the last couple of days, I have spoken to some Christian Democrats who are absolutely thrilled with the results of Tuesday’s election. One might say that their lamps are burning very brightly right now. The problem is that, in some cases, their lamps are burning with the oil of political euphoria, which, as history reveals, never lasts very long. A biblical response to such Christian Democrats might be this: “Brothers and sisters, be careful. Make sure that you have the right kind of oil in your spiritual lamps, and don’t be too quick to rely on the cheaper fuel of political success and power.”

I have also spoken to some Christian Republicans this week, a few of whom were moping around as though the world had ended. One might say that their lamps are rather empty right now. (This, by the way, is the problem I have with disciples of Jesus Christ who invest too much of their soul in the American political system: When the politics don’t go their way, they are left with empty lamps.) A biblical response to such Christian Republicans might be this: “Brothers and sisters, get over it! Cowboy up! Put some fresh oil in your lamps and burn them brightly for the sake of Jesus Christ (who remains politically unaffiliated).”

One other thing: I have heard no fewer than five racist “jokes” since Tuesday concerning President-Elect Obama (stupid and sickening barbs about having to change the name of the “White” House and replacing the White House garden with a watermelon patch). All five of the racist barbs came from people who were part of a church community. Given this, I am led to believe that, instead of celebrating the monumental significance of the fact that a black man has been elected to the highest office of a nation whose history is replete with racial division, some Christians are choosing to fill their spiritual lamps with the putrid oil of continued racism, resentment, and hatred.

In this world where many lamps are not burning very brightly right now and where many other lamps are burning with the wrong kind of oil, may this become the prayer of our heart: “God of the ages, pour the oil of Jesus Christ into my spiritual lamp, that I might burn brightly and rightly for him and for the ministry of his kingdom.”

On this Election Day, Ever-Reigning God, I pray for your forgiveness.

Forgive me for those moments when I have allowed myself to become too cynical to recognize the goodness of a country that allows its citizens the freedom to elect its leaders. Forgive me for being so eager to demonize certain political candidates, platforms, and philosophies that I fail to listen for the truth that they might bring to the public conversation. Forgive me for becoming idolatrous about my own political views at the expense of my capacity to love the people around me whose views are different than mine.

Deliver me, O God, from the things that would cause me to vote in the wrong spirit:

Deliver me from my weariness of political rhetoric, that I might identify rightly the issues that matter the most to me.

Deliver me from my anger over disparaging and oppressively negative political commercials, that I might respect the personhood of each candidate instead of allowing myself to be directed by their bad press.

Deliver me from my squeamishness about the political signs and posters that will greet me as I walk into my church’s basement to vote.

Deliver me from a corruptive social apathy, that I might come to a healthier view of our government’s role in the ordering of society.

Deliver me from fear concerning the future, that I might vote with a sense of assurance about the steadfastness of Christ’s Lordship.

Deliver me from spiritual myopia, that I might discern afresh the truth that, irrespective of which political party holds the upper hand in the governance of America, the politically-independent Lamb of God will remain upon the throne.

Make your presence known this day, O God, to the various political candidates and their families. Bring strength to all who are endeavoring to provide hospitality and organizational leadership in places of voting around the nation. Inspire humility and integrity within the hearts of those television and radio personalities who will share with us election results throughout the day and night.

Manifest your redemptive grace in our flawed political processes, that, throughout this day, hope might triumph over despair, encouragement over cynicism, and integrity over manipulation.

Pour out your Holy Spirit upon your Church this day, thereby enabling its people to celebrate the fact that their primary citizenship is to be found in a Kingdom that never has to be defended with an army, that never has to be stifled by a troubled economy, and whose eternally-reigning Lord never has to be re-elected.

Grant that my vote today will be nothing less than a prayerful act of hope, rendered in the assurance of your stubborn refusal to abandon the world that you so beautifully created.

I pray this in the name of Jesus the Christ, Lord of all creation and the Savior of the world, whose inescapable presence transforms even a voting booth into sacred ground.

Amen.