Generation to Generation

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   On Sunday we dedicated to the LORD two children, Aurora Skye Burns and Irie's and my third child, Emmanuel Boaz Price. What a blessed and holy day it was.
    It was also a much needed day in the life of our congregation. In recent months we have suffered the loss of so many beloved members and friends of Second B; we needed a couple of babies to be born.
    There is a phrase in the Scriptures which speaks deeply to me in these days of loss and new life: "Generation to Generation." Even as one generation now closes its eyes, another generation opens. Meanwhile, you and I, the generation which stands between, must see that the same faith and hope with which those who have gone before us have lived and died shall be imparted to the next generation.
   In a sermon about Moses atop Mt. Nebo, the great 20th century pulpiteer Gardner Taylor spoke of Moses' long journey toward but not into the Promised Land. In reflection Dr. Taylor preached these words, "It is a mystery, a blessed mystery, of how God does give us the capacity, the unselfishness to participate in efforts and causes whose fulfillment must lie so far beyond our mortal span."
   I ask that you might consider your own life; are you entering into the fullness of this "blessed mystery"? Do you make worship a priority for your family? Do you read the Bible to your children? Have you decided to leave a legacy gift to Second Baptist in your will? Do you speak to your children and grandchildren about how important belonging to the church is to you?
   If so, then wonderful. If not, then please consider doing so. For there really is only one way to pass this faith along,generation to generation.

Worshiping God the Gardener

Here's an image of God that might be new: God … the gardener.

Actually, the image isn't new at all. It goes all the way back to the beginning — to the Garden of Eden.  

"God is in the garden with hands in the dirt, holding the soil so close as to breathe the warmth of life into it."  So says Duke Divinity School professor Norman Wirzba — also known as "the dirt theologian."

Wirzba's earthy theology challenges the Greek Platonic notion that the material world we inhabit — our bodies and our planet — is all a kind of unfortunate imprisonment for our souls. Wirzba says that idea is patently unbiblical. He writes, "Scripture is clear that we are supposed to share in God's love for the ground. Adam is created from out of the soil (adamah) and then is promptly told to take care of the ground," (Genesis 2:15). Wirzba says the devaluation of the material world has ended not in caretaking for creation, but rather in environmental exploitation, overconsumption, and neglect. And the church has contributed, in seeing its mission as solely limited to salvation in the spiritual realm and not taking into consideration our call to help redeem the physical world as well.

Wirzba and many other theologians and practitioners say in order to turn this environmental degradation around is a robust theology of creation care.

Why am I telling you this? I would like for us to discern a call to build a garden on our land at Second B.

When I traveled to Israel I was struck by how much the land and the people are a part of one another; they are the chosen people in the holy land. As such, they take seriously the Biblical idea that salvation is not only about saving souls for heaven, but about bringing the kingdom of heaven down to earth. As we toured all around the countryside I could see groves, gardens, and vineyards, all supplied by slow-drip irrigation lines and interspersed with parks and other open greenspace. Our tour guide Laura noted there is a Biblical impetus behind all of this. "We are trying to make the desert blossom," she said, "just like the prophet Isaiah said would happen when the kingdom of God comes."  


When Laura said that, something clicked in my brain. "I know of another place that is increasingly becoming desert like — home," I thought. "I could see home looking something like this."

Water — or the lack thereof — is increasingly becoming the number one issue facing our community and the rest of the Southwest. On April 1 the city of Lubbock instituted new water restrictions for homes and business using municipal water. At church, we have our own well, so we are legally exempted from most of these restrictions. But we are not morally exempted. It is really God's water; and we are called to be good stewards of it.

One way to do that would be to put our water to more productive use with a garden. We could start with a few raised beds which might be used to grow vegetables and herbs which we could then donate to the Food Bank to help feed our city. Perhaps we might even open a few beds for people in the apartments behind us to use for their own family gardens. It would truly be a community garden. We would still have plenty of greenspace for our youth to play on and our neighbors to enjoy with a sense of hospitable welcome. Imagine what it would be like for those driving around the Loop to look over (quickly I hope) and see a church taking creation care seriously. And on Wednesday nights our Mission Friends program could take the children out to help dig around and plant seeds, hoe weeds, and harvest plants. It would be hands-on theology. It could be, well, Edenic.


I am sounding a call here. A few people have already expressed an interest in helping to envision this project. One even suggested we should ask MiracleGrow to sponsor us! We will be meeting sometime this summer to invite others who may have ideas to join us. All we need is a few green thumbs and lots and lots of workers.

Of course, we are not going to feed the city with a small garden. Nor are we going to solve our water shortage crisis. But we could model the way.  


We could be the Church that the 21^st century needs — a church that knows that its role is to care for all of creation — body and soul . . . and soil. A church that worships God the Gardener.

The Eastertide

We are still in the Easter Season and this means the Sunday Gospel lessons continue to tell of the appearances Jesus made to the disciples after his resurrection. He came to them on the mountain at Galilee, he walked with them on the road to Emmaus, he cooked fish for them on the beach at daybreak, and he broke bread with them at table in Emmaus. The Gospels clearly want to show that Jesus was raised from the tomb.

Last Sunday I preached on the resurrection. My text was from Luke 24, when Jesus came and stood among his disciples and invited them to touch and see that it was indeed he and not a ghost. "Look at my hands and my feet," he said, "It is I myself. Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have."

After church a woman from the congregation met me in the Grand Hall with a profound thought. The story from Luke reminded her of another resurrection story in the book of John -- when Jesus appeared before all of the disciples except for the disciple Thomas. Thomas didn't believe a word of it. "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe," Thomas told the other disciples.  

A week later Jesus came and stood among them again and this time Thomas was present. Jesus showed Thomas his hands and his side. "Stop doubting and believe," Jesus said.

"My Lord and my God!" Thomas exclaimed.

"Isn't it interesting," the woman on Sunday said, "how even though Thomas did not believe what the other disciples were saying about the resurrection, he was still allowed to be with them."
  

Her point was clear. One does not have to believe in order to belong. The early church left room for doubters; today's church ought to do the same.

               
 I've been reflecting on that conversation ever since Sunday. It was a week later that Jesus appeared to Thomas. On one level that tells me that a lot can happen in a week. Somebody shows up Sunday after Sunday because they want their children to be taught good Christian morals in Sunday School, but he really doesn't believe — never has. Next Sunday something happens. Suddenly he's walking the aisle and the preacher has that deer in the headlights look like, "What is he doing? We've talked, I know he doesn't believe." But he does. One Sunday he doesn't and the next he does. A lot can happen in a week.

               
In the liturgical calendar Easter is more than one single Sunday. It's fifty days — seven whole weeks. Easter is a whole season.

                
The church mothers and fathers used to call the Easter Season the Eastertide. I like that. Easter is like a tide. It doesn't come all at once. It washes ashore, wave after wave. It doesn't hit everybody at once. The tide is inevitably rising, but it comes in its own time. You can't rush it.

               
I imagine that there are plenty of folks reading this who feel a little like Thomas — doubting, skeptical, not quite sure about all this Easter business. If so, then I ask that you go ahead and give yourself permission to be a Thomas. Go ahead and doubt. Insist on proof. Wait and see. But wait with us. Don't leave. There's room for doubters among us and we will give you that room. Wait and see and we'll wait with you. Because a lot can happen in a week. A lot can happen this week.

                
And just imagine what can happen in seven weeks . . .

On the Freedom of Forgiveness

Here's something to think about during Holy Week . . .

Will Willimon, Bishop of the North Alabama Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church, says a few years back he got a call from a Methodist parishioner who was just livid her pastor had the gall to stand up in the pulpit on a Sunday morning and pray for Osama Bin Laden. Willimon picked up the phone and called this pastor to see if it was true and to see if the pastor could under- stand how this woman and others might have been offended. The pastor said it was true and that he understood how offensive it might have been. "But," the pastor said, "the only one I have ever known God to raise from the dead was the same man who taught us to pray for our enemies."

Jesus did indeed teach us to pray for our enemies. And more than that, he prayed for his own enemies — even as they mocked, flogged, and crucified him. As the nails could be heard driving into his hands, "Father, forgive them," was heard coming out of his mouth.

Jesus lived by his own teachings. He died by them also. And that is the reason God raised him up also. As Peter it in his sermon before the very same people who conspired to have Jesus killed, "This man was handed over to you . . . and you, with the help of wicked men, put him to death by nailing him on the cross. But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him" (Acts 2:23, 24).

Are there people in your life you need to forgive? Have you been wronged or betrayed or utterly abused? Holy Week is the time to pray for our enemies. It is the time to put into practice Jesus’ teachings — even his most of- fensive teachings. It is the time to say, "Father, forgive them."

A people who dare to forgive like Jesus are already raised like him also. When we pray "Father, forgive them" we unlock the door of sin and death, not only for them, but also for us. In other words, it is impossible for death to keep its hold on forgiveness.

And so in forgiving we are made free —- and we are free indeed.

The deaths of two Martins: A Call for a New Nonviolence

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. died forty-four years ago today. Given the momentous life Dr. King lived, and the place of honor he has come to receive, it is easy to forget how young he died - only 39 years of age. Like Jesus of Nazareth, Dr. King was struck down before even turning forty, and yet like his Lord and Savior, his life, legacy, and dream lives on.

As we solemnly remember Martin Luther King's death this year, we cannot help but also having in our minds another Martin who died too soon - Trayvon Martin, who was killed by George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watch captain was appointed to help protect the neighborhood after a rash of breakins. For reasons we are all speculating about, Zimmerman found Martin suspicious, followed him, and claims he was then attacked by him. When police arrived Martin was lying in the grass in a pool of blood.

We will never know exactly what happened between Martin and Zimmerman which led to Martin's death. Whatever did happen, we can all agree it ended in tragedy. I would like to suggest this tragedy underscores our need to learn more creative and non-violent responses to crime, suspicion, fear, insecurity, and intimidation - the kind of creative and non-violent practices Dr. King himself embodied throughout his life and ultimately even up to the day of his death.

Most people know that the King-led Montgomery Bus Boycotts of 1955 were Gandhi-inspired demonstrations of non-violent, direct resistance to evil. It was Dr. King's insistence on the power of non-violence which began the Civil Rights movement in earnest. What most people do not know, is that it was Dr. King's continued belief in the power of non-violence which brought him to Memphis on that fateful day thirteen years later.

In March of 1968, Dr. King was planning a "Poor People's Campaign" where he intended to bring busloads of poor people to the Mall on Washington, DC in a massive demonstration against policies which Dr. King saw as keeping millions of Americans endemically poor. Prior to the Washington campaign, however, Dr. King answered a plea from Rev. Jim Lawson to come and assist Memphis sanitation workers - mostly black - in a protest for more decent pay and working conditions. On March 28 Dr. King led an ill-prepared march which was interrupted by rioting and mass looting. Dr. King left the march and soon Memphis and 4,000 National Guardsmen were called out to quell the rioting.

The March 28 march would be King's last. It was perhaps the nadir of his involvement with mass demonstrations. Never before had a march led by Dr. King broken out in violence among his own ranks. The lack of training among the marchers on March 28 is rightfully considered a blunder on the part of the King and the other march leaders. Critics seized on this as an example of Dr. King's waning ability to lead mass groups of young blacks. If this is what happened in Memphis, what would happen in Washington?

Dr. King needed to act quickly to come back to Memphis with more staff trained at leading non-violent demonstrations in order lead a more disciplined march through Memphis, lest both the campaign in Memphis and also in Washington be lost. This was the reason why Dr. King was back in Memphis on April 4th - to continue his insistence in the power of nonviolence and to put it into better practice.

For as Rev. Dr. Benjamin Elijah Mays said in his eulogy at Dr. King's funeral just five days later, "[Dr. King] went up and down the length and breadth of this world preaching nonviolence and the redemptive power of love . . . Nonviolence to King was total commitment not only in solving the problems of race in the United States, but in solving the problems of the world."

George Zimmerman insists he does not have a race problem. He did, however, have problems for which more creative and nonviolent solutions must be sought out. Breakins were a problem and a neighborhood watch program was a good response. Vigilance is needed; vigilanteeism is not. The purpose of watch programs is to reduce incidents in a neighborhood. Zimmerman failed flat out on that and it came at a great cost for him and an even greater one for Martin. On the flip side, if we take Zimmerman at his word and suppose he is telling the truth when he says Martin attacked him, certainly we could understand the desire to defend oneself from a perceived threat. Yet, I have to wonder what else would be expected of Martin in response to being followed by an armed man? Run away? That's pretty unlikely.

The killing of Trayvon Martin underscores just how desperately we need alternative solutions to the violence in our streets today. Dr. King, Rev. Lawson, and the other leaders of Gandhian resistance, knew that nonviolent direct action takes creativity and discipline that must be learned and practiced in advance of an incident. Turning the other cheek, and walking the extra mile do not come naturally, but they are necessary tactics for survival in volatile situations.

Perhaps what is most needed is a new generation of such leaders who can teach neighborhood watch groups disarmed and disarming ways to deal with criminals in their neighborhoods. Likewise, they could teach young people like Trayvon Martin the skills necessary for engaging antagonistic situations without either suffering the indignity of running or the danger of fighting. What we need is the "third way".

The Quakers have a saying: "If in seeking to kill the beast, you become a beast, then beastiality has won." We must confront the beasts, but we cannot confront him by becoming him. What we need is another way; the nonviolent way - what Dr. King called "the only road to redemption."


For a great essay from King on nonviolence please see his article "Nonviolence: The Only Road to Redemption" at:

http://teachingamericanhistory.org/library/index.asp?document=1426

For more information on King's role in the Memphis sanitation workers' strike and the place where I got much of the history for this essay see and listen to:

http://americanradioworks.publicradio.org/features/king/

Prodi-Gay Son Returns to Ordinary Family

Correction: The after-film discussion will be with Robert Peaslee, assistant professor of Mass Communications at Texas Tech, and not Bill Kerns.

Today I interviewed actor and Lubbock native Chad Miller about his role in the indy film An Ordinary Family (trailer above). The film depicts the lives of a gay man, his priest brother, and their struggle to reconcile with one another.

The film is hyped as, "A cross between Modern Family and Guess Who's Coming for Dinner". In our interview Chad and I talk about some of the religious themes in the film. Chad says the story depicts what he called the return of the "Prodi-Gay Son". Whoa.

The film shows as a part of the Flatland Film Series next Saturday, April 7 at 7pm at Firehouse Theatre. Flatland Film Series is presented by The Louise Hopkins Underwood Center for the Arts.

A conversation will follow between Chad and Lubbock Avalanche Journal Arts and Entertainment editor and Second B member Bill Kerns.

I will be there no doubt.

Click here for my interview with Chad.

Remembering a Moses at Mt. Nebo

Below is an excerpt from my Holy Land travelogue. Though Second Page articles are usually not publications of thoughts I have shared in sermons, I thought many former Second Ber’s across the country who knew Everette Abernathie would appreciate reading it. Everette was truly a giant in our church. He is already missed dearly.

We got word last night that Everette Abernathie had passed away. Everette was the first person to sign the charter on our church and the man behind the Sick Children's Clinic for all these years. A true pillar.

I once listened to the tape of the memorial service Second B had for Bob Hearn, our first pastor. Charlie Johnson read from a letter Bob had written to Charlie upon his arrival as Second B's third pastor in 1990. "Trust the spirit of Anita and trust the Spirit of Everette," Bob told Charlie. Now both Anita and Everette are gone.

I hate it that I am missing Everette's funeral tomorrow. But if there were any other place around the world I might wish to be it would be right where we were today at Mt. Nebo. The Moses on Mt. Nebo story is the story of the great leader whose time has come. He goes up Mt. Nebo, sees all of the Promised Land, but cannot go over Jordan with the rest of the Israelites. Instead, he goes to be with the LORD.

On Mt. Nebo today the Catholic priest indulged our group by giving us a few minutes in the chapel "for a Mass." We began with Becky Corley reading a call to worship from the Book of Common Prayer's preface for All Saints Day based on Hebrews 11: "Who, in the multitude of thy saints, hast compassed us about with so great cloud of witnesses. . . ."

I then told the group about going to see Everette in his room at Crown Point Rehabilitation for what would be the last time. He was asleep in his room and so I sat down at his bedside and held his hand and began to sing all the hymns I could remember. I sang Amazing Grace, and Sweet, Sweet Spirit. Everette was only semi-conscious. I didn't know if he could hear me. But when I sang the old Negro Spiritual Swing Lo, Sweet Chariot, Everette's mouth opened and his tongue began to move with the rhythms of the song:

I looked over Jordan,
And what did I see,
comin' for to carry me home?
‘Twas a band of angels comin’ after me,
Comin’ for to carry me home.
Swing Lo, Sweet Chariot, comin’ for to carry me home.
Swing Lo, Sweet Chariot, comin’ for to carry me home.

There in that little chapel, we sang that spiritual and then I read from Deuteronomy 34:8: "The Israelites wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days, then the period of mourning for Moses was ended." And then I added the first word of verse 9, "Joshua." I talked about how this last chapter of the book of Deuteronomy is a hinge. It serves not only as the final chapter of the whole Exodus story, it also serves as a segue into the first chapter of next book and next generation: the Joshua generation. Deuteronomy describes how before Moses went up Mt. Nebo, he first sang a song. Then he gathered all the Israelite tribes before him and he blessed them — he blessed the next generation.

At the conclusion of the service I invited everyone to come forward and receive an anointing with oil upon their forehead. "Moses gave his blessing to the Joshua generation," I said. "Now Everette gives his blessing to us. The chariot has swung lo; we wear the mantle now."

After the service we went out to the western edge of Mt. Nebo, just above Mt. Pisgah. The day was hazy and so we could not see all that Moses saw. In fact, we could see very little really. Yet, we could see enough; the rest we took on faith. In other words, we trusted the Spirit.

And now we move forward. We are the Joshua generation, moving from the wilderness over Jordan into the Promised Land. And we are blessed to carry Everette's song with us:

If you get there, before I do, Comin’ for to carry me home
Tell all God's children, I'm comin’ too
Comin’ for to carry me home.