Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

Not Your Elvis' "Blue Christmas"

Imagine a worship service at your church during the festive month of December at the peak of the holiday season.  But it is different from what you'd usually expect, in some very noticeable ways.  Gone is the Christmas tree adorned with beautiful Chrismons.  There is no advent wreath up front with candles lit.  The organ isn't swelling with "Joy To The World" or "O Come All Ye Faithful," and there are no purple advent vestments draped over the pulpit and table.  And the message the minister delivers does not elicit smiles of joy and good tidings.

Such is what has taken place at a number of churches in recent years, and it's called a "Blue Christmas service." It varies from place to place, but most contain a table up front with a single blue cloth and candles to commemorate those not there.  The music is in minor key and invokes anything but celebration; and instead of smiles faces are adorned with tears of grief.

Sounds enticing, eh?  Well, it just may be if you are one of the 45% of Americans who dread this time of year, according to this recent article in Psychology Today.  Wow, 45 percent.  That's a lot.  The blog also goes on to mention that Christmas is when more people experience some form of depression, hospitals report the highest incidences of suicide and attempted suicide, and mental health professionals report the greatest increase in their services.

I've got to admit that, even as a pastor, I have a hard time recognizing the difficulty this season poses for some.  For me personally, Christmas has always been a time of joy and celebration.  I think the only real difficult Christmas I ever had was when I was eight years old and my mom's father - "Papa," we used to call him - had died a month or so before.  I remember lying in bed on Christmas Eve, the room all lit up with Christmas lights, crying myself to sleep.  I was fine the next morning, but at that moment I felt the loss of my grandfather most profoundly.

Lots of people are missing loved ones right now - family and friends who once were an important part of the Christmas celebration but are no longer here to celebrate with.  There are folks out of work who are struggling with this time of year - and it's not just about buying presents for the kids.  It has to do with the emphasis our culture places on a steady job as a determining factor of self-worth.  How are you supposed to be thankful when you don't feel thankful?  That's the question some folks are asking right now.  And then there are those who can't pinpoint an exact reason for their "blahs" but feel them nonetheless - along with an inability to express them in a time when everyone is supposed to be decking the halls and singing songs of great joy and all that. 

I don't know that we'll ever have a "Blue Christmas" service at the church I serve, but I like the concept.  I like the legitimacy it gives people to make room for everyone at the proverbial Christmas table, recognizing that December can be a rough time for some, and that's it's okay to admit that.  Because as any good counselor will tell you, the main thing that grieving people need from the rest of us is room to grieve and permission to do so - especially when there's a lot of self-imposed pressure to put on a "happy face" and suppress the way they really feel.

If I may bring Jesus into the matter (it is Christmas, after all), I'm struck by the fact that Jesus never put on pretenses himself, nor did he expect us to.  Come to me, all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  That's pretty honest stuff. The Psalms are the collective voice of the people to their God; and it's not all praise and joy.  For every Psalm 100 (Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth, worship the Lord with gladness....) there is Psalm 13 (How long, O Lord?  Will you forget me forever? How long must I have sorrow in my heart all day long?...)  There's a definite tradition in the faith of acknowledging not only the downside of life, but that downside in the context of the faith itself.

The greatest act of compassion that can be shared with those struggling with this season is validation of their angst; giving them room to feel the way they do, even if it goes against the happy face our culture forever drapes in December green and red.  If we Christians preach the "realness" of God as found in a tiny baby boy born to a carpenter and his teenage girlfriend in first century Palestine, then the depths of our collective faith can get no more "real" when we accept people as they are in this season of celebration, even and especially when the celebration is muted.

Either way, we all continue to pray the Advent prayer, Come, Immanuel, Come.  It's just that some of us know better how badly we need that to happen.

 

Signs of a Mayberry Christmas 2.0

Don't worry, I'm not going to do another "Signs of a Mayberry Christmas" series like I did last year, where I highlighted all the wonderful Christmas traditions in our little community: the lighting of the city Christmas tree, the Christmas parade, the leg lamp, the lack of snow and the family tree farm trip.  Although those signs are still with us a year later - the Christmas tree lighting was fun, the parade clocked in at a whopping one hour and 50 minutes (minus the "going to hell" float, thankfully), the leg lamp is back in its window, we had another successful jaunt up the mountain to get our family Christmas tree - and, of course, still no snow.  The more things change, the more they stay the same - and that's kind of nice, actually.

No, I'm only going to highlight one sign this year - something that takes place at the church I serve every second Wednesday of December.  In my seven years at First Presbyterian Church, one of the undisputed highlights of the Advent season is Candy House night.  This is where, after a wonderful fellowship meal together, we hunker down and put our collective creative skills to work.

It begins with this - a 35 lb. tub of white icing.  Yep, you heard right.  35 pounds.  The thought of this much icing can kind of gross you out.  And yet quite literally this is the "glue" that makes the whole affair work.  Each family gets a scoop of icing in a bowl along with a wooden tongue depressor, a paper plate and two empty pint milk containers.  Next comes the pack of graham crackers, followed by the "candy spread."  And when I say "spread," believe me, I mean spread.  Every possible candy item is there for the taking: peppermints and butterscotch hard candies, M&M's and Skittles, Twizzlers, marshmallows, big and small candy canes, gumdrops and gummy bears..... it goes on and on.  It's quite an amazing sight to behold - see for yourself:

After you've stocked up your supplies it's time to find a spot at a table and get to work.  It's amazing the wide range of things folks can think up, taking the whole "house" idea to the greatest extreme.  There's  high-rises and log cabins and tree forts.  There's the rickety home being torn apart by a ravage pack of gummy bears.  There are pirate ships and winter wonderland scene and even spaceships (which was the Lindsley creation this year - picture at the end of this blog).  And what's just as fun as working on your own "house" is taking a stroll around the fellowship hall to see what others are doing.

The trick, of course, is to get more candy on your candy house creation than in your stomach.  This is perhaps the greatest challenge of the evening - and not just for the kids, mind you, but for the adults.  Believe me, I know. ;-)

By evening's end the 80 or so in attendance have created not only wonderful candy houses but a spectacular mess.  Tables are covered with candy wrappers and graham cracker residue, fingers are coated in white icing, and the candy table is near bare.  So we do our duty and clean up.  We leave the church on a sugary high that is certainly due in part to ingested goodies.  But I have a sneaky suspicion that it also comes from the fact that the church family has gathered together in fellowship and fun.  It certainly gets you in the spirit of the season.

It's a church tradition that no one ever tires of.  Thanks to Shasta Brown, our DCE, for putting this on every year (and for the pics).  I'm already looking forward to next year!

Bad rap + church announcements = train wreck

There are creative, innovative, appropriate ways to blend church and culture in a manner that preserves the integrity of both and keeps the church relevant while remaining honest to its mission in the world.

And then there is this:

Sigh.....

Where to begin?  Let''s start with the song itself.  It's BAD.  And not bad in a good way. To paraphrase Bon Jovi, it gives "bad" a bad name.  I'm not a fan of rap music and even I know this is an offense to the genre.

Beyond that, though, what exactly is being conveyed in the name of "church?"  Hmm.  Well, for one thing it seems to suggest that it's okay to adopt stereotypes in the church, such as the "bling-bling" a rapper wears or the parody of an entire ethnicity, even down to the name (as if all Hispanics walk around wearing sombreros and shawls).  I'd find it hard to think that those being caricatured would feel all that welcome.

And that's not even mentioning the most absurd thing about this video: that the entire four minutes and three seconds is devoted to church announcements.  Church announcements!  I mean, I know church announcements are not always that exciting, but really - do we have to engage in a production like this just to tell people about what's going on in our church?

See, I guess that's my problem with the whole concept.  I don't see the need to resort to these kind of antics.  If we have to make a rap video (and I use that term loosely) to get people to pay attention to what's going on in church, we've probably got other problems on our hands.  I don't want to be too hard on these guys - I'm sure they meant well - but someday the church will have to come to grip with the fact that it is not our job to entertain.  Our job is nothing more than inviting people into the fellowship of the body of Christ and working together to bring about the kingdom of God on earth.  And I sincerely believe that when we make that our focus, the people will come. 

People didn't follow Jesus in his day because he tried to be like everything else in their culture.  In fact, they followed him because what he spoke of was something else entirely - a world where it's the peacemakers who are blessed, where turning the cheek is the way to respond to the powerful, where the sinner gets the best seat at the banquet table, where the thing that separates the sheep from the goats is how they treated those around them.  People followed Jesus because they sensed the man was not only drawing them to himself but to something beyond himself.  And it excited them to be part of that.

That's my continued dream for the church - to realize that we don't need gimmicks to catch people's attention; that we don't need to be in the business of making deals in faith; and that we certainly don't need to instill fear to cajole.  But that's just me.  I'd love to hear from you, especially those who may not be affiliated with a church.  What do you think of the video - does it hold some attraction to you, or does it seem as silly and ill-conceived as it does to me?  Share your thoughts in the comments...

Still Thankful

This past week, with the Thanksgiving holiday upon us, someone reminded me of a blog post I made a year ago appropriately titled "Thankful".  I went back and took a look at it and noticed how almost all of the things I was thankful for then are things I'm still thankful for now.  I don't know if this is a sign of a guy who is continually blessed, or a guy who lives a pretty mundane life where nothing changes all that much.  Either way, I'm cool with it.

At the risk of being redundant I thought I'd revisit last year's post.  Any instances that required updating are duly noted in red.  And don't worry, I won't do this every year.  In 2010 I'll treat you to an entirely new and original Thankful post.

Happy Thanksgiving day, folks.  Here's hoping you have much to be thankful for - and, more importantly, that you take time with the ones you love to celebrate those things.

*******************

I am thankful for coffee.  I'm drinking some right now, actually.  I wish to personally thank the individual who thought grinding up some brown beans and pouring hot water over them would taste good.  They were right.

At the moment I'm thankful for Ryan Adams.  Every time I listen to his music I hear something different I didn't pick up before, and I really like that sensation.  I like it because it stands in stark contrast to the sensation I get when I suffer through the repetitiveness of top-40 radio.  Which is something akin to eating those funnel cakes at the fair - it may taste good on the surface, but you know it's just not good for you.  Ryan Adams is kind of like the homemade ice cream - unique and worth the time and money invested.  That's also why I like Wilco, U2, Death Cab for Cutie, Nickel Creek, Radiohead, and others you don't always hear that much and who rarely get the deserved notoriety.  Which is exactly the point.

Last year it was Ryan Adams, this year it's The Avett Brothers. And Sufjan Stevens, especially his Christmas album.

I'm thankful for my boys.  I wish they could somehow know how much I love them, but I don't guess that's possible.  I'm not even sure I know how much.  Every time I look in their eyes I see my past, present and future all rolled into one, along with theirs.  It's a humbling, exhilarating feeling.

Likewise, I'm thankful for my wife.  I remember in my single days hearing folks describe their spouses as their "best friends."  I didn't get it - shouldn't you want your husband or wife to be something more than your "best friend?"  Now, having been married for just over nine years, I get it.  And I'm so glad that I happen to be married to my best friend.

Ten years.

I'm thankful for my parents, my brother, and extended family.  My life has taken all kinds of twists and turns in my 40 years, and it's humbling to know they've been there with me through it all.

Umm........41.

I'm thankful for the church I serve.  Unfortunately, this realization sometimes comes when I'm in conversation with clergy friends and hear their nightmarish situations.  And then I see that I really have it good.  It's a church that wants to go where the spirit leads; a church that genuinely cares for each other, and a church that puts up with (and even supports) my music and teaching ventures.  Most of all, it's a church that lets me be a real person, and that perhaps is the greatest gift they could ever give.

As if I needed any more reasons, my thankfulness for the church has increased ten-fold with their approval of a sabbatical for me next summer.  More on the sabbatical to come...

I'm thankful for the guys I've had the pleasure of making music with - Ken, Jerry, Les, Gary, David and others.  Acoustic Blend is entering its ninth year of existence, and Ken and I never tire of it.  And I'm more than content with being a so-so Mediocre Bad Guy, playing with some of the finest musicians Mount Airy has to offer.

I'm thankful for modern-day prophets like Shane Claiborne, Jim Wallis with Sojourners, Brian McLaren, David Beckmann with Bread for the World, Marcus Borg and many others who hit dummies like me over the head with the agonizingly simple message of the gospel.

I'm thankful for blogging.  I'd been trying for years to find a journaling outlet, but I never could bring myself to don a spiral-ring notebook and pen.  I'm too much of a keyboard guy.  Then I stumbled upon blogging, and that's pretty much been it (oh, and I'm thankful to you for reading it!)

I'm not blogging as much as I used to - it comes and goes in waves. That's okay, I still get a lot out of it.  And still thankful to you for reading!

I'm thankful for things like Facebook and Twitter.  Call me a geek, but they really are wonderful ways to stay connected with folks all over the place.  Where else can I catch up with that girl who lived down the block from me as a kid, and the friend who happens to be moderator of the denomination I serve in, and my old college professor?  The world really isn't as big as we make it out to be sometimes.

I'm thankful for wireless internet.  Free wireless internet specifically.

I'm thankful for the students in my college classes.  For actually showing up, for one thing, at 8:00 in the morning.  And then listening to me lecture for a solid hour.  They ask questions that keep me on my toes, which is exactly what I need.  And they're a lot of fun to be around too.

I'm still thankful for my students, but unfortunately it's no longer in a traditional classroom setting, as all my classes have been moved online. Not my preferred method of teaching, but we make it work.

I'm thankful for our next president.  I know I wanted Jesus, but I'm happy to settle for Obama.  I really do think he's going to bring the change our country so desperately needs.

I still think that.

I'm thankful for a good workout.  These days my goal is three miles jogging and one mile swimming, 2-3 times a week.  It wipes me out, and it's not taking as much off the waistline as it used to, but it still leaves me with a good feeling afterwards.

Something new I'm doing these days - treading water for 30-45 minutes, with weights.  I know it doesn't sound exciting, but it's one heckuva workout.  I've shed some pounds.

I'm thankful that God has never let me stand in the pulpit on Sunday morning with nothing to say.  This is the stuff of nightmares for us ministers, my friends.  I'm not kidding.

I'm thankful for football.  I live vicariously through the guys I watch on TV or read about in the newspaper or Sports Illustrated.  There's something fascinating about the orchestration that goes on between eleven players, all aimed at moving a piece of pigskin down the field; and another eleven orchestrated to stop them.

I'm thankful for that feeling when I drop the Eldest off in the car line at school in the mornings. The teacher opens the door, and I watch him gather his bookbag and any other stuff he's got.  We give each other a high-five.  Every time I tell him I love him and that I'm proud of him.  And I never, ever tire of watching him step out and walk through the school doors and into his big wide world in there.

So we're not doing the car line this year.  Our youngest is in the Pre-K program at the school and we're required to personally take him to his class.  Which means I actually get to take both boys to their classes.  I love this more than the car line. I get to hug 'em as they walk into their room and begin a day in their never-ending, lightning-fast quest that is growing up. 

I thought long and hard about something I could say to them every day, some words of wisdom to impart.  I guess I remember my mom telling me about what her father, a high school principal, used to always say to her and her two sisters: "Apply yourself."  It took a few weeks, but I finally found mine: "Learn stuff."  I like it.  More importantly, they do too.

"Gone from my sight...."

It has been a tough month or so - meaning, our church and community have had a lot of deaths lately.  Just in our own church: five funerals in as many weeks, four of which I've officiated.  Some were expected, some not; all were difficult.  As a pastor I've never been one to lament my role in these affairs; I always consider it an honor to walk with others on their "sacred ground" (along with baptisms and marriages).  Besides, any hardship I experience pales in comparison to what the family is going through.  But even I must admit - this recent wave has been hard on me.  Compounding that is the fact that, three weeks ago, our family said goodbye to our beloved Sam, the family dog of fourteen years.  Sam was actually my wife's dog and was in the picture long before I was.  She was her baby; I knew my place.

Ugh.

Instances like these are always roller-coaster affairs; the emotional back-and-forth of celebrating a life and having to say goodbye at the same time.  It's times like these when we cling to those thin silver linings; those glimmers of hope and promise that we find amidst all the sorrow and pain.  There was some special music shared at funeral #4 which touched a deep, deep chord in every person in attendance; there was a heartfelt eulogy given at another that was both lighthearted and serious at the same time. 

And in two of the services a poem was read.  It was the same poem; read first by a minister colleague of mine in a service we shared together.  It was read again today at a funeral our staff attended on behalf of a work colleague whose mother had died.  It's about a ship, but it's about much more than that.  I love the fact that the man who wrote it, Henry Van Dyke, was a staunch Presbyterian and English professor in his time.

I don't know the story behind his poem Gone From My Sight, but it is comprised of some beautiful words that have meant a lot to the people who've heard them over the past few weeks.  If you're lucky enough to not have someone close to you dying right now, tuck these words away in a place you'll remember and pull them out later when you need them.  In the meantime, celebrate life every waking moment of your day, and don't let a day go by without telling someone you love them.

*********************

GONE FROM MY SIGHT

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

And that is dying...

When tragedy strikes close to home

(picture taken from http://www.wxii.com)

Churches are often viewed as sanctuaries in the truest sense of the word; a place where one can momentarily leave behind the world's problems. Sometimes this is true, but other times we come face-to-face with the realization that our houses of worship, like our very lives, can never be totally distanced from tragedy.

A sad thing happened just down the block from our church this past week.  Tuesday afternoon around 4pm, a middle-school aged girl was accidentally shot by another family member.  The shooting took place five houses down the street from our church.  In the picture above you can see the road blocked off with yellow police tape and an officer in black.  Our church is the granite building in the foreground on the right.  To my knowledge the girl is still in the hospital in critical condition.  The alleged shooter was taken into custody.  Our prayers are with both of them.

I was not at the church when it happened but got a text about it from our secretary.  When I got back about 15 minutes later I found the scene relatively calm with a lot of stunned onlookers.  Many of them I know personally.  Our church organist lives in a house two down the road on the right.  He was in the middle of a voice lesson with another church member when the alleged shooter banged on his door, screaming for help.  Two houses further down, almost directly across the street from where it happened, our local Young Life leader and his 8-month pregnant wife were also greeted by bangs on the door and cries for help. 

Our town is a small one, barely 10,000 people.  We have one middle school and one high school.  So even those who don't know the girl personally (like myself) certainly know someone who does.  There are a few youth in our church who know her, although they don't necessarily "hang out" with her.  Still, they are understandably in shock.  It's quite a jolt to the system when one day you see her sitting a few seats in front of you on the bus, and the next day you don't, and you know why.

Sadly, things like this are a part of life.  Violence, poverty, injustices exist.  It's just that for many of us we are somewhat removed from them; separated by proximity or economic strata.  We see it on the news, read about it in the papers.  Our ministers preach about it from the pulpits and our politicians discuss it in their agendas.  But there is always a "distance" implied; a sense of separation between where we are and where "it" is.  For the most part we are removed from it and hardly give it a second thought.  And then it happens just a few houses down the street from us, and we can't let it go.  It stays with us.

This tragedy down the street from the church has left me thinking about many things.  It's reminded me that the church is not a place to escape from the world's troubles, but a place to engage them and enter into them; into the transforming presence of God that can bring about true healing and wholeness in a broken world.  We in the church tend to forget the practical implication of that message and focus more on the "upkeep of the institution."  We too easily forget that Jesus himself didn't stay holed up in a fancy building somewhere.  He went out in the world and confronted life's tragedies head-on.  We should do the same; and our church is currently talking with some people to try and find out what, if anything, we can do for this family.

It has also reminded me that we shouldn't need something like this to happen in order to mourn, to feel, to become sad or angry or hope for something better.  We fall into this trap all too often, living our lives apart from the lives of others.  It's so easy when we sit down at our kitchen tables for a meal, with a full spread in front of us, to forget that there are hundreds of thousands who won't have anything to eat for days; and that every six seconds in this world a child dies of hunger-related causes.  Closer to home it's easy to forget that, just playing the odds out, at least one of the kids sitting next to my son in his first-grade class - and probably both - start every day off on an empty stomach; the last decent meal being the school free lunch they had the day before.

It's so easy when I face that instant decision - throw the plastic bottle I have in my hand in the trash can in front of me or keep it with me to put in the recycling bin at work or at home - to forget that at that very moment there is a trash pile floating somewhere in the Pacific Ocean that is twice the size of Texas (the state, not the restaurant chain).  It's true - read about it here and here.  We don't realize it's there because it's not right down the street from us.  It's somewhere that is not "here" - so it is out of our sight and out of mind.  Even the term it's been unofficially christened with - the "Great Pacific Garbage Patch" - seems to minimize its size and impact.  A "patch??"  Perhaps the word "continent" would be more suitable.

The internet, of course, has been a godsend in helping make our big world a little smaller and changing the extent to which we understand who our neighbor is.  Of course, our neighbor can still be the old-fashioned variety, such as the people down the street from the church who I never knew about until this past week.  Even then, though, it's easy to forget that close to 1000 people in our country annually suffer the same fate as that 12-year old girl (and that number is more than likely a lot higher)

That is, until it happens a hundred yards from the front door of the church where you worship, work and serve every day.  And then it's not so easy to forget.  And you know what?  That's probably a good thing.

A very full "day of rest"

This is the day that the Lord has made;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it!
Psalm 118:24

It's not like we need a special reason to rejoice on Sundays - every Sabbath is special in its own right.  But yesterday had to set some kind of record at our church for "Most-stuff-crammed-into-one-Sunday."  It was hectic, it was wild, but it was certainly all good.  Here's a list of the all the special things that took place at First Presbyterian Church on Sunday, October 4:

• Worldwide Communion Sunday - celebrating the Lord's Supper with Christians all around the world;
• Hunger & Hope offering - our Cents-a-Bility and food bank offerings that takes place on the first Sunday of the month;
• Fall Discipleship Dedication Sunday - the concluding Sunday of our church's Stewardship ministry and our 15+ Plan;
• Faith In Action Sunday - something we started a few years ago to recognize and thank those local and international agencies and missions that our church supports with our benevolence funds.
• Special Music - our wonderful chancel choir was accompanied by a lovely brass quintet;
• Youth Mission Trip Lunch - where our church gathers for fellowship around the table and the youth group gets to share some of the stories and pictures of their past summer mission trip.

See what I mean??

And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the visit of a certain Vice-Moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA) as well.  I've already blogged about Byron Wade, who was a guest blogger here back in the summer (if you missed it you can find our back story here and his blog post here).  So I'll spare you all the details.  Suffice to say this was not only a wonderful experience for the church, but a personal joy for me too. 

We maxed out Byron's time with us.  We had a crowd of about 60 youth and adults gather in the church's Fellowship Hall for the Sunday school hour to hear Byron tell us about his first year as vice-moderator.  One of the neat things about this time was to hear all the stories of other churches, other Presbyterians that Byron has met criss-crossing the country, and realize that our little church on the corner of Church and Main Streets is not a solo affair.  We are, thankfully, part of something much bigger than ourselves.  Byron allowed time for folks to ask questions - and boy, did he get them, from same-sex marriage to how our denomination is using social media (Facebook, Twitter, blogs) to keep the church informed.  Like a seasoned pro, Byron addressed every one of them with a level of sincerity and compassion - and, most of all, a love for the church.  As we wrapped up this time together we were pleased to present Byron with a few tokens of our appreciation (for two of them, see the picture at the end of the blog).

Byron and I led worship together later that morning.  Byron preached an an amazing sermon titled What Is Your Choice? (which you can listen to, along with the rest of the service, here).  It's been a number of years since I've heard Byron preach but I quickly remembered how eloquent, forceful and passionate he can be when he steps behind the pulpit.  Fantastic message for all to hear!  It was also a treat to celebrate the Sacrament of Communion together - using liturgy that Byron himself had written for our denomination's Peacemaking Program.

The conclusion of worship led us down to the Fellowship Hall and all the fixings of a baked potato bar and homemade desserts.  The place was packed as we enjoyed a meal together and heard about the youth summer mission trip.  Throughout it all, Byron was incredibly gracious with his time, shaking hands and engaging folks in conversation as if he'd known them for years.  I don't know exactly when Byron hit the road south to return home to Raleigh, but I know it was long after everyone else had "left the building."  Without question, Byron is a fantastic ambassador for our denomination.  Of course, I'm slightly biased ;-)

It took us 151 years to get a moderator or vice moderator (sitting or past) to come to our church, and I sure hope it won't take another 151 for it to happen again.  Byron's visit was the highlight of a very busy and very wonderful Sunday in the life of our church - and for that we give thanks!  We appreciate Byron making the visit to Mayberry as he continues "nipping it in the bud" for the Presbyterian church!

(note: you can't see it, but it's a "Mayberry" hat he's wearing.  We weren't going to send him home empty-handed!)

BYRON LINKS FOR YOU:     Byron's Blog     Byron on Twitter

The Presbyterian Mod Squad (Mod & Vice Mod Facebook Group)

Proud of Anna

Folks in Mayberry-land were treated to something special this past Thursday night, as one of our own - and a First Presbyterian nonetheless - made her television appearance on USA Network's Royal Pains.  Anna Wood graduated from the University of the North Carolina School of the Arts a couple years ago with an emphasis on acting, and she's been hard at work finding work. But this was a big deal - a major guest role on a network series.

Anna plays a Polish girl named, appropriately, Anna; studying in America and meeting up with Evan (played by Paulo Costanzo of Road Trip fame).  She has six or so fairly lengthy scenes where she and Evan engage in friendly banter and casual flirting.  Oh, and she also turns blue, due to overexposure to the sun at a beach.  Oh, and while at the beach she takes her top off.  Just like they apparently do in Poland, mind you, and you don't see anything on the television you shouldn't see.  A run-of-the-mill character part this is not!

In short, Anna rocked.  She definitely did more than hold her own alongside some folks with major resumes.  And the polish accent was pretty convincing.  I don't know all that goes into making it in Hollywood these days, but I do know that success is fleeting and very little, if anything, is guaranteed.  Hopefully this part will catapult her into some other opportunities, and those into others, and so on.  Hopefully.  If nothing else, Anna demonstrated what we in her hometown have always known - that she has the acting chops to make it in this business.  And that's exciting.

You can watch the full episode of "Am I Blue?" HERE - and if for some reason the right episode doesn't come up you can scroll for it at the bottom of the page.  By my count Anna has six scenes and they occur at the following marks: 38:00, 29:50, 24:27, 15:10, 11:52 and 8:02 (it counts down rather than up).  Let me apologize beforehand for the horrible ad for some sweet tea you'll be subjected to multiple times.  Despite how painful these ads are, it's still worth it to see Anna in action.

Anna, I might add, can also sing pretty darn well too - as evidenced in this YouTube clip where she lent her vocal prowess to our annual H20 N2 Wine performance at the Christmas Eve service last year.

Way to go, Anna!  Your Presbyterian/Mayberry contingency is rootin' for ya.

When 322 feeds 10,175

This week I've have the pleasure of hanging out with six youth from our church at the Massanetta Middle School Conference at Massanetta Springs in Harrisonburg, VA.  While I don't have any "official" youth responsibilities at the church, I made a decision a few years back to take our middle schoolers to this annual conference myself every year.  I love it because it gives me a chance to spend some good quality time with our young people and get to know them better than I ever could for a few hours on a Sunday morning.  This year it happened to be an all-girls group, and their female advisor and I are having an absolute blast.  I mean, look at them - don't they just look fun?

So we're doing all the usual youth conference stuff - energizers, music, keynotes, small group, workshops; all on very little sleep.  The girls & I went canoeing yesterday and had a great dry time.  At our nightly devotions we're doing what we call "Highs and Hopes" - your "high" for the day and your "hope" for tomorrow.  Believe me when I say that it has not been difficult getting them to talk (again, from the picture, does it look like it'd be hard for them??)

Last night, though, our group - and the 314 other youth and adults at the conference - got to experience a unique and revolutionary event that I hope will set a precedence for this conference and others in the future.  See, if there's any area where I feel the typical youth conference falls short, it's that there's often an exclusive focus on the self and inward spiritual experiences - how "I" experience God.  Which is great; don't get me wrong - those things need to be tended to.  But we're doing our young people a disservice if we leave them with the impression that that's all there is to being a person of faith.  I've always figured that Jesus wanted us to do something with our faith rather than just celebrate it (or maybe the "doing" is the celebration?  Hmm....)  There's a kingdom of God that we've been called to help initiate, and it's not going to materialize on its own.

So I was thrilled when I heard that Massanetta had partnered with Stop Hunger Now for what's called a "Packaging Event."  You can visit the website at the link to learn more, but in short it's an assembly-line setup that helps to create these packaged meals of rice, dried vegetables, seasonings and other supplements.  They're easy to pack and ship around the world and have the nutritional value to really make a difference in the lives of those suffering extreme poverty.   The plan, then, was to get all 322 youth and adults working hard for twenty solid minutes to make 10,000 meals.  That's 10,000, with four zeroes.

The Nook - essentially a very large screened-in porch on the Massanetta campus - was the location for the Packaging Event.  It was set up with tables and the needed supplies by the time we got there.  Everyone filed in to their places with specific orders, and then the madness began.  You really do need to check out the video below; it's amazing to watch.  Pay special attention to the gong at the end - every time our group created a thousand bags they would bang the gong.  The end of the video has the tenth gong and the ensuing celebration of us reaching our 10,000 goal.  Check it out:

Later that night at devotions, everyone in our group felt the packaging event was one of their "highs" for the day.  And I can see why.  When the needs in our world are so overwhelmingly great, it's hard for anyone to feel like there's a snowball's chance in you-know-where of making any kind of meaningful difference - especially if you happen to be twelve or thirteen years old.  But last night these kids helped nourish the bodies of 10,000 starving children, youth and adults, somewhere in this world.  That's not going to solve the problem, of course, but it's a step in the right direction.  And that's certainly better than doing nothing at all.

I'm going to give some serious thought to working with Stop Hunger Now back home, perhaps encouraging a joint effort between some of our Main Street churches.  Maybe we'll even attempt a packaging event at the fall CROP Hunger Walk.  This has so much potential.  And as they do so often, especially in the church I serve, the youth once again are leading the way.

My Moment of Worship

There is a time in every worship service at First Presbyterian that is my "moment of worship."  This may sound strange coming from a minister-type, I know.  But here lies the challenge for those whose job it is to oversee the "orchestration" of a good reformed worship service.  As a friend once asked me, How does a minister ever get to worship themselves?  It's not easy.  Ministers must find a place in the service they're leading that is worshipful for them.  Certainly the choral anthem feels that way to me.  We have a wonderful DCE who gives stirring Children's Messages that speak to all ages.  And I truly believe there is something worshipful about simply being together with your family of faith.

But there is one definitive moment of worship for me every Sunday, and it happens during the last hymn of the service.  As the congregation sings the final stanza I close my hymnbook and set it on the arm of my chair behind the pulpit.  The moment is almost here, but not quite. I make my way from the "stage" of our church - a raised area about two feet - to the ground floor, right in front of the first row of pews.  There's usually around 20-30 seconds before the hymn finishes and I launch into the benediction.  

I position myself so the table is right behind me; the main aisle straight ahead.  The layout of our sanctuary is such that I am practically surrounded by worshipers at this point.  It's shaped like a square with the front at one of the corners, the pews ascending higher as you move back.  The choir loft is recessed into the wall to my left, and to my far right is the old fellowship hall, converted years ago into additional sanctuary space known as the Koinonia Room (the Greek word for "fellowship").  The effect all of this is that I am treated to a sort of panoramic view of the congregation. 

And it is now that my moment of worship arrives, and it involves something as simple and profound as looking at everyone.  Just looking at them.  It's really the first time since I welcomed everyone an hour before that I am not drawing their attention; their faces buried in the hymnals and their voices lifting songs to God.  I start from the left and move right; beginning with the choir and ending with the room named after fellowship. I have to turn my entire body to do this. My gaze moves slowly, roughly timed to end as the hymn concludes.  I look at all the faces - most gazing into their hymnals, some already reaching down for their purses or coats; a few who are looking at me.  There is one woman who spends a lot of the time during the last hymn with her eyes closed, as if in prayer.  It is a beautiful sight.  I look at everyone and wonder what the coming week will bring them - a hectic schedule, a family celebration, a pink slip.  I imagine what wounds they brought into this place an hour before and whether those wounds had experienced healing.  I gaze upon families, widows, young people, elders, teachers, singers, students, visitors, professionals.  I gaze upon children of God. 

As the hymn ends I share my benediction.  I have two that I use almost exclusively.  The first is one I grew up with as the child of a church who had the same minister for 29 years.  Every Sunday he said the same words before we left, and I used to mouth them as he spoke it.  I don't know where it came from, but as far as I'm concerned it belongs to the late Dr. Ed. Pickard:

Go out into the world in peace, have courage
Hold on to that which is good.
Return no person evil for evil,
Strengthen the faint-hearted, support the weak, help the suffering
Honor all people - rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit.

There's another one I use, more often than the first.  It was fashioned during my first call as an associate minister, and it borrows part of a benediction I once heard the great Fred Craddock give.  I hope it has the same impact on people that it did the first time I heard it:

Brothers and Sisters, you are the Children of God and the people of God:
Go forth in God's grace and God's love.
And as you do:
Live simply,
Love generously,
Speak truthfully,
Pray daily,
And leave everything else to God.

I raise my hands and pronounce In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, AMEN.  And as Sandy begins the three chimes of the Trinity I bow my head and remain motionless - until the second chime, at which I move forward, head still bowed, and take the twelve steps to the church's front door.  There I will greet those I looked upon as they make their way out of church and into the world that awaits them.

It is only thirty seconds of worship, at most.  But it is more than enough for me, every single time.  I feel God's presence move among me and the people I am called to serve.  I feel grace.  And I am thankful.