Teach us in all things to seek first Your honor and glory.

Grant that we may perceive the ways in which you are calling to us,

and grant us strength and courage to pursue those things

and to accomplish them.

Amen.

Last week I got my wedding ring re-sized.  Let me explain.  Two years ago, I dislocated my ring finger while playing basketball. I could not get my wedding ring over the knuckle and had to have the ring re-sized.  It took some time for the finger to return to its normal size, and when it did some months ago, I realized that I needed to go and get it re-sized.  But as many of us do, I put it off.  It kept getting moved to the next days to do list, then the next months to do list, and then…you get the picture.  Maybe you can relate.  Two weeks ago, I went running late one evening after it had cooled down enough to go outside.  At some point during my run, I encountered a pesky horsefly.  Several swats sent it away and I continued to run.  When I got home and got into the shower, I noticed that my wedding ring was missing.  I looked all around but could not find it.  And then it hit me.  The horsefly.  The swats.  The silent sound of my ring hitting the ground.  I thought I remembered where I was.  It was worth a try.  Julie and I got into the car and drove to the general vicinity of my encounter with the horsefly. With flashlights in hand, we began to look.  It was our very own quest for the ring.  It was late, dark and neither of us had much hope.  After several hours, I was about ready to give up the search and begin again in in the morning when I heard a loud scream.  Julie had found my ring.  I had looked over the spot where she found it several times, but did not see it.  Through persistence, good luck and pure grace, or maybe a little bit of all three, the ring was found.   It has now been re-sized and fits snugly on my finger.  I don’t plan to take it off any time soon. 

As I have reflected on this experience, three thoughts have come to mind.   First, in life and in love, always leave room for growth and change.   Second, never put off taking care of the important things.  Third, never take for granted the things you cherish the most, because they can be gone in an instant. 

We are in the heart of “wedding season” at the church I serve.  I have several wedding scheduled over the next month.  When I take the rings in my hand and bless them as they are given from husband to wife and wife to husband, I will have in mind my own ring, a band with no beginning and no end, an outward reminder of God’s never ending love that is the foundation of all loving, committed relationships, an outward reminder of the vows of commitment that were spoken to my wife and how those vows have sustained us and been a source of strength through times both good and bad.   And I will say a prayer for each couple that their love and commitment will be strong enough to handle the “dislocations” that come in all of our lives, expansive enough to grow as each of them grows and important enough that they will never take it for granted, not even for a moment.  And, if they ever lose it, I will pray that they will be able to find it and rediscover its meaning and power anew and afresh.

What does it mean to be great? In this day and age when business oriented best sellers help us learn how to get from simply being good to finally being great, I find myself yearning for a bit more.  Should greatness always be our goal?  If so, how do we define greatness?  

On February 4, 1968, the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his final sermon at the Ebeneezer Baptist Church in Atlanta.   It was entitled, “The Drum Major Instinct.”  Reflecting on his words, I found them to be just as relevant today, if not more, than they were then.  Here is an excerpt:

 

“And so Jesus gave us a new norm of greatness. If you want to be important, wonderful. If you want to be recognized, wonderful. If you want to be great, wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. That’s a new definition of greatness. And this morning, the thing that I like about it, by giving that definition of greatness, it means that everybody can be great, because everybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don’t have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don’t have to know Einstein’s theory of relativity to serve. You don’t have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace, a soul generated by love. And you can be that servant.”

Instead of spending so much time and energy striving to get from good to great, could it be that we need to see ourselves as those called to go from a preoccupation with being great to a desire for being good.  

What would it mean for us on this Fourth of July weekend to truly strive as a nation to make sure that our greatness is always defined by our goodness?

I grew up playing baseball.  It was the first sport I remember learning how to play.  From little league through high school, summers meant baseball.  Having now entered my fourth decade of life, baseball is not so much a part of my life any more, but in recent weeks, I have gotten back in touch with the game in a special way, or a better way to say it is that the game has gotten back in touch with me. 

I am a fan of the LSU Tigers.  Doesn’t matter the sport.  It’s always great to see the Tigers play.  So you might imagine my excitement when LSU made it to the College World Series.  I began watching them play midway through the super regional in Baton Rouge and found myself drawn back into the rhythm of the game. And you can imagine my delight with they won it all. 

 

 

In The Hartford Courant, the late commissioner of Major League Baseball, A. Bartlett Giamatti wrote:

Baseball is about homecoming.  It is a journey by theft and strength, guile and speed, out around first to the far island of second, where foes lurk in the reefs and the green sea suddenly grows deeper, then to turn sharply, skimming the shallows, making for a shore that will show a friendly face, a color, a familiar language, and at third, to proceed, no longer by paths indirect but straight, to home.      

Baseball demands both attention and engagement.  If you don’t pay attention, you might miss the game, for the game can be won or lost in an instant.  If you don’t stay engaged, you might begin to think that there are insignificant moments in the game and miss out.  There are no insignificant moments in the game of baseball.  Every pitch, every hit, every strikeout, every inning is important, if not, essential.  And the ultimate goal of the game is to make it safely home.

 

 

During my reacquaitance with the game of baseball, I have been reminded how many lessons in baseball are also lessons in life.  Life demands attention and engagement.  In life as in baseball, every moment is essential, every relationship is important, and in the end, no detail is ever insignficant.  Never count anyone out until the last pitch is thrown, the last out is made or the last run is scored.  Even if you strike out, you still have a chance to make it to first.  And the ultimate goal of life, as in baseball, is making it safely home.  I regularly forget this.  Maybe you do as well.  Sometimes  we need gentle reminders. 

Live well, laugh often, love much…Geaux Tigers! 

 

I recently had the privilege of hearing Rudy Rasmus, pastor of St. John’s United Methodist Church Downtown in Houston, Texas.  In 1992 Rudy was assigned to St. Johns.  There were nine members.  Seventeen years later the church has 9000 members with over 3000 of those being homeless or formerly homeless.  The church is known for its innovation, its community redevelopment and its healing and recovery ministries.  It has become a place of social and spiritual healing.  Rudy is an urban entrepreneur, a modern-day prophet and an authentic voice for a socially conscious faith that takes both word and witness seriously. Rudy addressed our annual conference using as his text the story of the paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda.  The man had been lying there beside the pool for years, unable to move fast enough to make it into the pool which was believed to possess healing powers.  When the water moved, healing power was believed to be present and available.  But the man had been there year after year, watching people come and go, hoping for healing but hindered by a handicap.  As people came and went, dipping their feet in the water, wading in and splashing around, they would see him there by the pool, many offering a hand out, no one offering a hand up.   Rudy then commented that far too often churches can seem like religious spas that focus on keeping people tanned and tuned out to the needs around them.  Moreover, he said, pastors run the risk of becoming pool pimps, simply peddling a cozy and comfortable climate for people’s personal enjoyment and fulfillment, expecting little more than payment of pool dues.  I found myself reflecting on his words throughout the rest of the week, and doing my best to convince myself that his words did not apply to me nor to my congregation.  Then on Monday morning, as I pulled into the parking lot at the church, I found myself face to face with the church yard filled with… pools…pools that had been set up for one of our summer children’s programs.  But… pools none-the-less.  And I found myself wondering …just a coincidence?  Or God’s way of saying pay attention?

I spent most of this week in New Orleans attending the Louisiana Annual Conference.  Each day as the conference convened, the focal point of our gathering was the image of four doors centrally and colorfully displayed.   The theme of the conference was And Can It Be? from the great Wesleyan hymn of the same name.    The focus was on open doors.  However, each day as I sat down for the sessions, I found myself looking at the doors…none of which were opened, not even cracked.  We were talking about open doors, open minds and open hearts, but we were looking each day at closed doors.  As you might imagine, a bit of cognitive dissonance began to set in and I struggled all week with the apparent contradiction between the message and the metaphor – our doors are open and to prove it we display…closed doors???   Each church was also invited to purchase a poster displaying many of the doors of churches in Louisiana for $100.00 to raise funds to support the starting of new faith communities throughout Louisiana.  New places for new faces.   The poster is nicely done. The doors are beautiful.  But again, they are all closed.  The poster clearly states that our doors are open, and we show this with…once again…closed doors.   On Wednesday we voted on a constitutional amendment that read as follows:

 

The United Methodist Church is a part of the church universal, which is one Body in Christ. The United Methodist Church acknowledges that all persons are of sacred worth and that we are in ministry to all. All persons shall be eligible to attend its worship services, participate in its programs, receive the sacraments, and upon baptism be admitted as baptized members. All persons, upon taking vows declaring the Christian faith and relationship in Jesus Christ, shall be eligible to become professing members in any local church in the connection. In the United Methodist Church no conference or other organizational unit of the Church shall be structured so as to exclude any member or any constituent body.

We voted against this amendment to our constitution that would have stated unequivocally that our doors are indeed open.  My guess is that it our actions were motivated by fear, xenophobia and a resistance to change. Or maybe, our metaphors simply triumphed over our message. 

I must confess that I was initially disappointed that the doors to University Church were not included on the poster.  After this vote, frankly, I am glad we were not included, for if our doors were displayed on the poster, I would have insisted on them being opened.  At University Church, we want our metaphors and our message to be the same – consistent and credible.

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”  – Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude