Devotional 4-10-15

One Sunday in February we sang the hymn, “It’s Me, It’s Me, Oh Lord” standing in the need of prayer. It’s me. I am in need. It’s not my mother, my father, my sister, my brother, or anyone else. It’s me. I need to make that connection to God that comes only through prayer. Prayers seem to spew out of me in times of stress. Prayers of gratitude are also easy. I have much to be thankful for and telling God makes me more aware of my blessings and a happier person.

I find it much easier to pray for others than to pray for myself. Being honest with God and myself is difficult. What are my strengths and weaknesses? How do I use my strengths and overcome my weaknesses? The answers come from connecting to God in prayer. I have come to truly appreciate The Holy Spirit being there to guide me and even speak for me when I am unable to find the words I need to express my thoughts and feelings. When I am totally confused, upset by a situation and don’t know what to pray for, it is often to the Holy Spirit that I turn. When I do, I experience a sense of peace.

It’s me, oh Lord. I need to make that connection with You.

Margaret Williams

Devotional 4-5-15

Rev. Joseph Casey, a retired United Methodist pastor, died on the afternoon of Good Friday. Although his light has gone out, “countless other candles, lit from his, still burn.¹”  One such candle is mine.

When my family moved to Logan in 1971, Rev. Casey was our pastor. We moved in a few houses up from the parsonage in Midelburg Addition, so Joe and Martha and their children, Tom and Peggy, were also our neighbors and, soon, friends. I was sad when, just a few years later, it was announced in church that they would be leaving to serve another church. There were tears at church and in the neighborhood. Other parsonage families came and went, and other rich relationships developed with the Savilles, the Turleys and the Chenoweths. But Rev. Joseph Casey was always special to me.

Rev. Casey taught my confirmation class. Five or six of us would meet after school in the pastor’s study at church. I recall that Rev. Casey took the task very seriously, teaching us about the Wesley brothers, Methodist classes and bands, and about United Methodist beliefs. I was confirmed and joined the congregation of Nighbert Memorial United Methodist Church on Sunday, March 25, 1973.

I ran into Joe and Martha again in the late 1990s, when I attended Annual Conference for the first time as a lay member from Johnson Memorial. By then, they had retired to North Carolina. I looked for them at the Conference sessions each year thereafter.

After I started working at the United Methodist Foundation, I reconnected again with Joe and Martha when they created a scholarship trust for seminary students. That’s Joe and Martha Casey; they know well the sacrifices involved in answering God’s call to ordained ministry, so they have given generously to provide help for others on that path.

I was pleased when I learned a few years ago that Joe and Martha would be returning to West Virginia and moving into a retirement community in Huntington. Then I was especially glad when they began attending Johnson Memorial. I liked seeing Joe in his clergy vestments on special Sundays like Convocation Sunday.

Then, as if coming full circle, my mother became neighbors again with the Caseys when she moved to The Woodlands in 2011. While I was having lunch with my mother at The Woodlands in the spring of 2013, Martha Casey stopped by our table with a gift for me: a photocopy of a couple of pages from one of Joe’s journals. It was dated March 25, 1973—the day I was confirmed. In the pages, Joe described a visit I made to his study that morning. I left Sunday school crying and went to his study because my Sunday school teacher, obviously not a Wesleyan, had told me that I would have to be baptized before I was confirmed. She said my baptism as an infant didn’t “count.” Rev. Casey explains in the journal entry that he calmed my concerns, and that I was confirmed and “received into the church but not” baptized again. (Emphasis in original).

Although I have no surface recollection of the subject of his journal entry, I must have a subconscious memory of it, and of his pastoral response to me, entrenched in my soul. I confess that my insistence on the sufficiency of my infant baptism was more likely a result of my stubborn precociousness than it was based upon any faithful understanding of baptismal theology.  I evidently paid attention during Confirmation Class and was not going to let the Sunday school teacher trump the preacher.  Yet, as I reflect on the contents of the journal entry, and Rev. Casey’s concern for me, even to the point of convening a group of church leaders that very evening to discuss the problem of this particular Sunday school teacher’s misleading and upsetting remarks, I give thanks for the life and ministry of Rev. Joseph Casey, and I remember my one baptism.

Jeff Taylor

[1] Quoting a remark from Bishop William Boyd Grove upon the occasion of the death last month of Rev. Frank Shaffer.

Devotional 4-3-15

As we come to the end of this Lenten season, and progress through these difficult days between Jesus’ triumphant entrance to Jerusalem and his death upon a cross, we come to the story of Mary Magdalene, who stands with Mary, the mother of Jesus, at the foot of Jesus’ cross, and then again at the tomb where Joseph and Nicodemus had placed Jesus’ body.

Mary Magdalene, the young woman who was possessed by at least “7 demons”, lived in the town of Magdala.  One day, when Jesus was passing through that area, a relative brought Mary Magdalene to Jesus, explaining to him, that she was possessed and needed Jesus’ healing touch. Jesus took one look at the very mentally ill woman, and did touch  her.

Immediately, Mary Magdalene was healed, and began her journey with Jesus, supporting his ministry in every way she could.  She became a part of the group which travelled with Jesus, as He taught and performed miracles in many locations throughout the country side.  She sat at His feet and listened to His teaching; she provided monetary support: and she cooked and served meals as well.  She loved Jesus; He had healed her physically, so she was able to grow spiritually and mentally, as she served Him daily.

How have you been touched during this Lenten season - this time we as Christians take to search ourselves, and open our heats and minds to God’s transforming love and grace?  God loves us just as we are, but God loves us too much to allow us to stay the same.  We are constantly in need of God’s healing – God’s cleansing of the dark places in our hearts and minds, so we may share God’s light and love to every person we encounter each day of our lives.

Reread Mary Magdalene’s story in John 20:1-18, and see how richly she is blessed by Jesus again at the tomb.

We too have a story to tell, and love and light to share.  Allow God to work on you and through you every day, so you may be blest and a blessing to others.   Amen.

Rev. Suzanne Ellis  

Devotional 4-2-15

You who fear the Lord
Praise him.
All you offspring of Jacob,
glorify him.
stand in awe of him, 
all you offspring of Israel!

For he did not despise or abhor
the affliction of the afflicted;
he did not hide his face from me,
but heard when I cried to him.

I sat at my desk,
and I read the Psalm,
and I thought,
"Of course that's so.
Why would God ever
hide his face from those
who are suffering?"

And then I remembered
the man on the street
whose eyes I did not meet,
who stood, cold and shivering,
needing help.
And then I remembered
how I had walked by,
ignoring him,
hiding my face.

And then I remembered,
the children on the news,
hungry, abused,
needing help from someone
who cared.
And then I remembered
how I had thought
"What could I possibly do?
The problem is too big;
the solutions are beyond my grasp."
And I hid my face,
and changed the channel.

And then I remembered,
the man in grief.
I don't know what he needed,
or how I could help.
And then I remembered
that I had thought,
"I don't have the words,
I don't know how to help,"
so I hid my face,
and said nothing,
instead of showing love.

Is it any surprise
that the Psalmist is shocked
that God does not hid God's face
to the pain and suffering of the afflicted?
Why would his expectations be any different?
He would not have seen God
in the likes of me.

Two opening stanzas from Psalm 22:23-24

Kim Matthews

Devotional 3-28-14

Isabella Stewart Gardner (1840-1924) was an extremely wealthy, eccentric, world traveler as well as

an art collector, philanthropist, and patron of the arts. (Sadly, no relation to me). She actually built a museum in Boston to house her extensive collection, with strict instructions that nothing would ever be altered or changed.* I am fortunate to have visited this museum twice. The first time I must have walked right by the painting below, but the second time I was mesmerized by it.

The painting is "Christ Carrying the Cross" by Giovanni Bellini (1430-1516). It is a small piece which sits on a desk, so the viewer can be eye to eye with the depicted Jesus.

Alan Chong wrote in The Eye of the Beholder, "The subject has been excerpted from the narrative representations of Christ carrying the cross to Mount Calvary. However, lacking distracting details or any indication of setting, this image focuses instead on the tear-streaked face of Christ, who stares out at us melancholically, as well as the knotty wood cross over which he casts a shadow. It is an intimate and intensely personal depiction of a suffering more emotional than physical."

The artist isn't focusing on the violence of Good Friday. Notice there's no blood dripping down Christ's face or on his white robe. But look at the eyes! I spent several minutes starring at those eyes and came away with Jesus saying to me, "Yes, I'm going through with it."

I invite you to spend a few minutes with this painting and draw your own conclusions. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Anita Gardner Farrell
* If you would like to know more about the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum: http://www.gardnermuseum.org/home

Devotional 3-26-15

I know we are a week behind with Lent due to weather and church issues. I do not think it makes that much difference, really. I was thinking of how I would do Lent this year and decided I should share my idea. Here goes. Do not give up anything you really do not want to. Instead do a positive thing. Well, of course I have ideas for this. Say only positive things about our church and refuse to converse with those that have negative views. Sit in a different pew preferably beside someone that may be a visitor. Sing all the verses to all songs even though they may be long. Offer to take the altar flowers to someone (even though Scott Ramsey does this every Sunday). Come to Young at Heart in March. Offer to be a greeter  and usher (Jim Daniels would be delighted to have you help). Join the choir even if you cannot sing; your voice will be heard and appreciated by Bruce Rous.  Ask somebody to come with you to church one Sunday and throw in a free lunch if they come. Say hey to your neighbor if you do not already. Since the weather is bad take your neighbors' newspaper closer to their houses so they do not have to trudge in the snow to get it. Call a member of our church and do what I call a body check just to see if they are ok.  Pray for those that are hurting and rejoice with those are healing. I am sure if you put your mind to it you can come up with even more good things to do during our season of Lent. I do not think that our Lord will be unhappy. He probably liked bread and wine too.

 

Now here is the rest of the challenge. Write down on strips of paper what you chose to do for a positive Lent or  even what you choose to give up for Lent and put them in the offering plate on Easter Sunday.

Jean Ramsey

Devotional 3-24-15

Holy Cow!

What is holy? A synonym for “sacred,” holy means worthy of worship. As the third stanza of that great Trinitarian hymn reminds us, only God is holy. But we often use “holy” and “sacred” to describe things that are capable of bringing about an experience of the presence of God. For instance, we might refer to sacred space, a sacred text, or sacred music when they are designed to lead people to experience the divine. But it is important to remember that it is not the space, text, or music that is sacred.

Or is it?

Consider, for example, our sacred space. Your and my idea of sacred space may look more like a courthouse to someone not familiar with church. Think about it…in addition to the high ceiling and balcony, there is a gallery (nave), a separated, raised platform (chancel), a bench (pulpit), a witness stand (lectern), and a jury box (choir loft). There’s even a judge in a robe! Would we ever consider changing the architecture to be more inviting to those who find it to be a barrier?

Next, consider sacred music. A friend’s recent Facebook post referred to the connection between the wonderful Passion hymn O Sacred Head Now Wounded and Paul Simon’s American Tune, which you can listen to it here. Even though I had heard American Tune many times, I never made the link, which is so obvious to me now, to the hymn. “Wow,” I wrote in a message to another Facebook friend, “wouldn’t it be great to hear someone sing O Sacred Head Now Wounded to Paul Simon’s setting of the tune?”

“NNOOOOOOOOOOoooooo!!!!!!!” was the initial response. Then he got negative. How many synonyms for “no” can you think of? I learned some new ones from his response. He concluded, “Holy cow. Do I need to call for medics?”

 “O never mind,” I replied, and let it drop. But “Holy cow?” Ha! The irony was not lost on me.

We use the expression “sacred cow” derogatorily to describe those things that have become so accepted that no one would dare even suggest changing them. Although I know my friend had used “holy cow” as an exclamation of surprise, a “minced oath” the crossword puzzle writers would call it, he had unwittingly made my point. The familiar, traditional tune and style of O Sacred Head Now Wounded has become so venerated and accepted that I should not have even suggested doing something different with it. It is a sacred cow.

It’s too bad, really, for anyone my friend might have an opportunity to influence. While I have absolutely no doubt that many people over the centuries have been stirred by O Sacred Head Now Wounded in its familiar, traditional style, the moving words will not be heard and experienced by some who cannot appreciate a Bach chorale. It may be shocking, even blasphemy, to some reading this, but there really are people who cannot appreciate a Bach chorale. But, that’s ok, we think. Maybe because they are not in church.

A further irony is that the tune and harmonization that are so familiar to the in-church crowd are based on a secular love song written by German composer Hans L. Hasler in 1601, more than eighty years before Bach’s birth. With lyrics such as the following, it’s little wonder it has been referred to as a 16^th Century version of “All Shook Up.”

My mind’s confused within me, made thus by a tender maiden.

I am utterly astray. My heart hurts badly.

I have no rest day and night. I ever lament.

I keep sighing and crying, in sorrow almost despairing.

So I wasn’t the first person to blur the secular/sacred line. If any of Bach’s contemporaries had exclaimed, “Holy cow, J.S.! Have your lost your bleeping mind?” you can be thankful he continued undeterred.

In many churches we have sacred cows. We seem to hang on to traditions that go back, not necessarily to the original Christian church, but to particular times in Christian history. Maybe it is the heyday of the 1950’s or the Classical Period or even the Dark Ages. We, the insiders, seem to find some zone of comfort, and in the midst of churches that are steadily declining, we blissfully maintain that our traditions stand the test of time. But do they really? I fully believe the words often repeated in the baptismal covenant that “the church is of God, and will be preserved until the end of time,” yet I further believe that God’s church will not be confined to a particular building or a particular style. Will we die trying to so confine it?

What are our sacred cows? The building? The time for worship? The space for worship? The style of worship? The music? The instruments? The way we do something the way we’ve always done it because we’ve always done it that way? When someone suggests something new, do we squelch their enthusiasm? “Holy cow! Are you crazy?” When our own tradition becomes a sacred cow, who are we excluding from the life of the church?

Only God is holy. Do we aim to share the good news of Jesus with others? Or to teach them to appreciate Bach chorales?

Jeff Taylor