...this side of heaven

For the joy of human love,

brother, sister, parent, child,

friends on earth and friends above,

for all gentle thoughts and mild,

Lord of all, to Thee we raise this

our hymn of grateful praise.

---Folliott S Pierpoint, 1864

The joy of human love. Flawed, fragile, erring love, conditional and weak, sometimes selfish and self-serving. Love has come through and come around. Love has rescued and resisted. Love has let me down, and ground me down. Love has promised and lied. But love, nonetheless, sometimes wounded or wounding, the best we have to give and receive this side of heaven.

It’s an easy thing to be thankful for God’s love for us ---the perfect, endless, complete love of our boundless God, shown us in Jesus. This verse reminds us that there is joy in the human love we share with those close to us, imperfect thought it may be. And the more we practice this human love, the better reflection of God’s love we are able to mirror in our own relationships. The love of those around us strengthens and encourages.

Let’s raise our hymn to God for the joy of human love. Praise and gratitude, Lord of all.

...beloved, and loving

All who hunger, sing together; Jesus Christ is living bread.

Come from loneliness and longing. Here, in peace, we have been led.

Blest are those who from this table live their days in gratitude.

Taste and see the grace eternal. Taste and see that God is good.

---Sylvia Dunstan, 1990

Communion. Union. Community. From the Latin communio, ‘sharing in common’. This word, communion, speaks to the deep loneliness and longing for fellowship settled in the souls of so many of us, waking faint stirrings of…hope, maybe? There are so many periods of isolation and sequestration in this busy, noisy life---many of them in the midst of the noise and busy-ness of everyday life. So many days which stretch from end to end with no real human interaction breaking through workaday, rote communication, or days of solitary pursuits.

Into this lonesome landscape shines the chance to gather at the table of our Brother Jesus, eating and drinking of love and sacrifice, telling each other the stories that bind us to Christ and to each other. The table draws us---not strangers but family, not hurried and harried but grateful and blessing, not fearful of rejection but cherished and welcoming. This table calls us empty, and we feed each other. This table draws us, and sends us. This table makes of us beloved, and loving.

Oh, taste and see…

...come to the table

When we are walking, doubtful and dreading, 
blinded by sadness, slowness of heart,

yet Christ walks with us ever awaiting our invitation: 

stay, do not part.

---Susan Palo Cherwien, 1996

This lovely modern hymn, by contemporary poet Susan Palo Cherwien, is a meditation on the story usually called ‘The Road to Emmaus’. I kind of think it should be called ‘The House at the End of the Road to Emmaus’. Because friends, all the real fabulous-ness, all the wonder, all the eye-opening connection happened at the kitchen table in a little house at 223 Emmaus Way right about supper time. The travelers walked with the mysterious stranger all day, discussing current events and even Bible knowledge; but it wasn’t until pulling up chairs around a table laden with a thrown-together, just-got-home-from-vacation, raid-the-fridge-for-leftovers, broke-down feast that bridges began to be built between hearts.

Now, some of you who follow me on Instagram or Facebook know that I kinda like food (ok, I love it), and I especially love being able to share something lovely with other folks. I have two hashtags that I commonly use when posting about food: #cometothetable and #alwaysroomforonemore. These spell out my personal kitchen ethos. Good, good things happen around the table, when we drop our guard to pick up forks and mugs. Spending unhurried time together sharing a common meal lends itself to sharing our inner selves. Sometimes, just sometimes, our private fears and hopes and dreams become common bonds. And around this kind of table, friends, there is always room for one more. The welcome is warm, and the provision is plenty.

Around the table in the house at the end of the road to Emmaus, lingering over a last mug of chai and the heel of a loaf, their eyes were opened, and the travelers recognized Jesus.

Come to the table. Linger. With your eyes and heart open, you never know who you may see.

...Monday's coming

Soar we now where Christ has led, following our exalted Head;

Made like Him, like Him we rise; ours the cross, the grave, the skies.

Alleluia!

---Charles Wesley, 1739

Here we are at Easter, the simplest day of the year to follow Jesus! Soaring where Christ has led, rising like him…feels pretty wonderful, right? And we need a day like Easter, because the rest of the year is sure to follow. There was a popular poster when I was younger (Kids, we used to unroll these big paper pictures with groovy sayings on them and hang them on our bedroom walls! They were like the memes of a bygone generation!) that featured a cross dramatically backlit, with the text, “It’s Friday…but Sunday’s coming!” Well, I need a poster (but I’d just as soon have a good meme) that says It’s Sunday! …but Monday’s coming. #wompwomp.” We live in a Monday world, friends, where the cross and grave, and busyness and inattention, and a hundred tiny everyday cruelties are always with us. We need a little Easter every now and then. We are promised that if we follow Christ by owning the cross, and the grave, that we will also own the skies with him.

Made like You, to follow You, we turn with expectation toward a future that includes the cross, the grave…and the skies. Alleluia!

...the lips of children

All glory, laud, and honor to Thee, Redeemer, King,

To whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring.

Thou didst accept their praises --- accept the praise we bring,

Who in all good delightest, Thou good and gracious King!

---Theodulph of Orleans, ca. 821

Count on a kid to tell it like it is. Maybe this is the reason for the old adage, “Children should be seen and not heard.” Over the course of our lives we develop the ability to filter our thoughts before they become words. We become polite, refined, and maybe just a wee bit fake. We also sometimes lose the child’s ability to see things as they are, without expectation or preconception. We accept nothing at face value, examining each comment and appearance for inflection, shading, nuance. Kids? They see it like it is, and say it like it is.

In today’s text, hosannas stream from the lips of children. They were onto Jesus, and seemed attracted to him without reservation. They saw what they saw, and liked it, and joyously praised Jesus. May we today be like children…no filters, no prejudices, no reservations about praising our redeemer, Jesus Christ.

Let at least one of those hosannas be mine, Lord.

...how love sounds

Lord, your church on earth is seeking your renewal from above;

teach us all the art of speaking with the accent of your love.

We would heed your great commission: “Go now into every place;

preach, baptize, fulfill my mission, serve with love and share my grace.”

---Hugh Sherlock, 1960

I am always interested in the decision of television directors and producers---mainly of news, documentary, and reality programming---to decide to use subtitles to “translate” the speech of characters or interview subjects with broken English or thick accents. I am continually amazed (and amused) by the great diversity of ways that we speak “American English”---cultural, regional, and even generational differences. Yes, generational---I sometimes think folk of a certain age might need subtitles to understand the everyday slang of teens and twenty-somethings! One of the most humorous choices, to a (mostly) southerner like me, is subtitles applied to a thick southern accent---how could anyone have trouble understanding that?!

I think what fascinates me is accent. People who specialize in training actors can sometimes isolate and identify accents not just by country or region, but by city, or even borough or neighborhood in the case of New York City. They can train actors to speak with the accent of a certain location, a certain people group, a certain era.

Imagine with me what the sound might be of all of us speaking with love’s accent. What would our voices sound like? What words would fill our vocabularies? What tone, what timbre would govern our speech? How does love sound, translated into everyday language? Would the world recognize love’s accent on our tongues?

Would we need subtitles to translate love?

...the time that I've taken

A thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone;

Short as the watch that ends the night before the rising sun.

---Isaac Watts, 1719

Time is such a strange concept. Each day has twenty-four hours in it; some seem to fly by and we leave things undone, while others crawl, second by second. And I’ve known people that I would wager had more hours in the day than I do --- they fit so much more in! And does time take forever when we are waiting on something? Daylight saving time? Don’t get me started! It’s been over a week, and I’m still mad about the hour that disappeared into thin air from my overnight one Saturday night!

This is not a new puzzle; the Israelites were always wondering when God would act, and tiring of waiting for things to happen. In this 300-year-old text, Isaac Watts reminds us that our time and God’s time are different. We may find it easier to wait when we remember that God’s reality runs on a different clock than ours.

...even our scars are lovely

In heavenly love abiding, no change my heart shall fear;

and safe is such confiding, for nothing changes here:

the storm may roar about me; my heart may low be laid;

but God is all around me, and can I be dismayed?

---Anna L. Waring, 1850

In their song 'Breakeven', The Script sing, 'I'm fallin' to pieces, 'cause when a heart breaks, no it don't break even.' And if I'm honest, I could raise a glass and sing along extra loud with that chorus...how about you? Experience crushes, the storm roars, my heart is 'laid low'. And I would swear I am falling apart.

And here's the thing: it's all true. When we choose to engage this broken world in love, heart in hand, otherwise unarmed...it. will. break. us. We cannot engage brokenness, I don't think, and remain whole, unchanged. The world will break us and, even when we heal, we will bear the scars of our wounds as reminders, and the sites of the breaks will ache on days when the cold and damp push against us like a late winter storm.

But, friends, hear the good news. In our brokenness, bearing the scars of love, we grow more and more to resemble our broken Brother, Jesus, who by his own choice entered the flow of everyday brokenness, and wears the scars of engaging wounded and wounding humanity in love and tender compassion. By his great love this God walks with us on our broken way, transforming our dismay into devotion, offering us the chance to see that even our scars are lovely.

...a resting place

My faith has found a resting place, not in device nor creed;

I trust the Ever-living One, his wounds for me shall plead.

I need no other argument, I need no other plea,

It is enough that Jesus died, and that he died for me.

---Lidie Edmunds, c. 1890

We’ve all heard the stories of the minutiae that divide Christians from time to time. The color of the pew cushions in the new sanctuary…blue like the river of life, or red like the blood of sacrifice? The organ…loud or soft? Bongos and guitars in the Sunday morning worship or high church and opera voices? Whether to sing all four verses of every hymn, or save time with a quick pass by first and last? King James or NRSV?

This hymn reminds me every time that letting the small things get in the way of the one true thing --- Christ’s sacrifice to reconcile us to God --- keeps us far from each other, and from our spiritual center. Our faith rests not in creed, argument, or the thousand little things good people sometimes disagree about. Our faith rests in the good news, the gospel, that Christ died, and lived, for you…and me. Here is our resting place. Here is our center.

...to not need you

Sister, let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you;

pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

Brother, let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you;

pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

---Richard Gillard, 1974

Lord, make me useful. How can I help? What can I do for you?

How quick we are as a people to offer, and (generally) follow through with, help, assistance, and support to those around us in need. And that is awesome. And while we may argue with Joey Tribbiani of Friends fame over whether there is any truly selfless good deed (“Look, there’s no unselfish good deeds, sorry.”), most of us would agree that serving others makes the world a kinder, gentler place. We are quick to offer to friends, family, and even strangers the hand of help, as Charlie Puth sings in his well-known song:

            I’m only one call away, I’ll be there to save the day,

            Superman got nothing on me, I’m only one call away.

What I am not as good at, and I bet the same could be said for you, is allowing someone the gift of being servant to me in my need. I would do nearly anything to not need you. And that, friends, is a crying shame. Because when I keep you from serving me in my need (and it is there, let’s not kid each other) I don’t just rob myself of the aid and comfort you are glad to offer me as your sister. I also fail to exercise the grace of allowing you to be a servant, to participate in your own transformation into the likeness of Christ. All because I would swear with my last breath that I’m just fine.

Let us be each other’s servants. And let us allow others the holy privilege of serving us. This grace…it’s a mutual dance, never meant as a solo.

...a God who stands in contrast

Holy, holy, holy! Lord God almighty!

Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee.

Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and mighty!

God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!

---Reginald Heber, 1826

I will admit it. I have always been a bit put off by descriptions of God as powerful. It seems in this world that being powerful is an invitation to mistreat or take advantage of the weak and poor. For every “good King Wenceslas”, there are hundreds of “Ivan the Terribles”. Power seems so intoxicating, and so easy to abuse. So my vision of a powerful, almighty God is colored by the lens of the world in which I live, and the one I read about in history books. Reginald Heber, in the mid-1800’s, caught the essence of God’s power with one short phrase: “merciful and mighty.”

In a world where might is often used to man-handle and menace, and strength to strong-arm and subdue, we the faithful shine a light on a God who stands in contrast to those faulty human ideals. We worship a God who is strong and tender, who is limitless and approachable, who is Law and Love.

Merciful and mighty, God, we worship you.

...on singing all the verses

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;

Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.

For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;

his craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,

on earth is not his equal.

---Martin Luther, c. 1529

In some churches, when time in the service runs short, hymns may be abbreviated by leaving out verses (personally, I think each verse has its own message for me, and I love singing them all!). With most hymns you lose some of the wisdom using this approach, but the general message remains understandable. Today’s hymn is a stark exception. Sing only the first verse of this hymn, and the world is left in the hands of evil, with no valiant hero to fend off our “ancient foe”. What a state we’re left in at the end of the first verse of this 500-year-old hymn!

But in hymns as in life, an old saying comes to mind. It goes like this: “Everything works out in the end. If things haven’t worked out, it’s not the end!” With our human shortsightedness, we grow impatient for things to work out, for problems to be solved, for worries to be calmed, for questions to be answered, for right to prevail. Because our sight is limited to vision, we tremble at the unseen unresolved. Because our sense of time is limited to what we can measure, we cower at the prospect of a boundless future. Remembering that God’s time is not often our time, let us actively await the final stanza…

“God’s kingdom is forever.”

...I confess. And I believe.

God, let us be a bridge of care connecting people everywhere.

Help us confront all fear and hate and lust for power that separate.

When chasms widen, storms arise, O Holy Spirit, make us wise.

Let our resolve, like steel, be strong to stand with those who suffer wrong.

---Ruth Duck, 1991

I confess today. I have been small, and I have limited my idea of God to smallness. I have hated those who were other, and feared those I hated…or did it work the other way around? I don’t want power in my own hands, that is too heavy a thing; I just want things to work the right way, my way. I confess this yearning for a finger in the pot.

My God, I pray for the things that separate me from serving and standing resolutely with those who suffer to yield to wisdom from you. I pray for the fears and doubts that keep me shackled when I should be about kingdom business to yield to the floods of your hope and healing love.

And I believe. I believe that at your table, transformation is an everyday miracle, and grace is served at every meal. We may come to the table as strangers, lonely and weak and worn, but we leave as friends, strengthened for the challenges of building family and standing with each other.

I confess. And I believe.

...you wouldn't believe what's up there!

God of Creation, all-powerful, all wise,

Lord of the universe rich with surprise,

Maker, Sustainer, and Ruler of all,

we are your children --- You hear when we call.

---Margaret Clarkson, 1987

Back when I was young and could sleep on the ground, I often spent a weekend camping with friends in the mountains of north Georgia, enjoying scenes of rugged beauty around every bend and over every hill. Being carefree (I did mention that we were young, didn’t I?), we often knew only the general area we wanted to explore, and this led to lots of wondering. I don’t mean ‘wandering’; I mean ‘wondering’, as in, “I wonder where we are now?” One particular weekend we were more aimless than usual, and had gotten onto a one-and-a-half-lane road, headed almost straight up into the sky (no easy feat for a baby-blue Monte Carlo!). At a bend in the road, we met an oncoming van, and inched over as far as we dared to let it pass. As it did, the driver waved and greeted us; we asked what was up ahead. Now, what we meant was, “Is there a camping spot up ahead?” But he had a bigger answer in mind. “Man,” he said earnestly, “you wouldn’t believe what’s up there! There’s trees, and mountains, and grass…”

That dude up on the mountain saw the world with a sense of wonder, with a delight I am usually too jaded to enjoy. In today’s hymn, Margaret Clarkson names the God of a creation ‘rich with surprise.’ As I meditate on the concept of a universe created teeming with delight and overflowing with mind-blowing creativity, I think of eclipses, lightning storms, giraffes…and grace.

You wouldn’t believe what’s up there!

...little things

The church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord;

She is his new creation, by water and the Word:

From heaven he came and sought her to be his holy bride,

With his own blood he bought her, and for her life he died.

---Samuel J. Stone, 1866

I’ve heard the stories, and you probably have, too. Churches that split over what color the new carpet will be, or whether to sing the Amen at the end of hymns, or whether to play drums in the sanctuary. And I am sure that, in the midst of the discussions, each of these issues seemed important to their adherents. We could make a list of bigger, more theologically-based issues that divide Christianity into denominations, factions, sects, and even warring camps. Emotional issues, and closely-held; the sort that draw tears and raise voices and blood pressure.

I always come back to this hymn’s first line. Jesus is the one foundation of the Church. Jesus --- his teachings, his life, his example, his leading --- is the strong base on which we build all that our community of faith is. The little things are just that…little things. And while there is a place in life for the little things, let us never forget the one foundation, the big thing that holds us all up. Let us remember Jesus, our foundation.

...just details

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;

I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.

---Edward Mote, 1834

We pin our hopes on many things --- the stock market, savings, a spouse or parent, hard work, luck, the list goes on. As Christians we may put our hope in a minister or ministry, a local church, or a denomination. We may even hope in a particular interpretation of scripture, or a certain way of reading the Bible.

This hymn reminds me that there is one rock solid enough for the construction of my hopes, and that is no human institution, religious or secular. That rock is the person of Jesus---his life, sacrifice, and triumph over the powers that were in the world.

Everything else is just details. Sinking sand. Christ is the solid Rock.

...bound like that

O to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be!

Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to Thee:

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love;

Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it; seal it for Thy courts above.

---Robert Robinson, 1758

It might be easy to see this verse as a guilt trip. What kind of lousy follower am I? Prone to wander, in debt to grace, I need a fetter --- a chain --- to bind me to God. Ouch. Then I remember that this hymn, as so much of life, is not about me. This hymn explores not human nature, frail and failing though it be. This text is all about the nature of God, a God who loves us enough to pursue us, to bind us to Godself with chains --- chains made not of might or threat, or violence, but of goodness. And in my inmost heart, I long to be held close to the heart of God, with fetters that tender. I am a debtor. For God’s unfailing mercy, I owe a debt I will never repay. Through God’s grace, freely given, I owe nothing.

Because of the weightlessness of my bonds, I will serve always out of love and gratitude. I’m bound like that.

...straw against the chill

...and in the frozen stillness, a mighty voice is heard:
God is here among you, human is the Word. 
---Bob Franke 

Emmanuel. #godwithus #usforeachother

...to welcome Love

People, look east, the time is near for the crowning of the year.

Make your house fair as you are able,

trim the hearth and set the table.

People, look east, and sing today:

Love, the Guest, is on the way.

---Eleanor Farjeon, 1928

I know about some of the Christmas decorations out there. I've driven around. And I've cruised around FB too, and Buzzfeed. I've seen Santas, and snowmen, and Nativity scenes (sometimes all in one yard). I've seen white lights, multi-colored lights, twinkle lights, chaser lights, net lights, all orange and blue lights (here in Auburn Tiger territory, not an uncommon sight).

I've seen tasteful and tacky, with a few stops in-between.

There is something in us, a good number of us anyway, that pokes and prods at us to pull out a Christmas sweater (or ten) for our house this time of year. Is it because we're happy? to make us happy? to convince other people we're happy? a bit of a combination of everything I've thought of, and more?

In this lovely poem from Eleanor Farjeon, we are reminded that we are preparing for the arrival of a special Guest, with all the 'trimming' that might bring. When we invite Love in to stay, what kind of decorating might we do to our hearts? How would we set the table of our lives to welcome Love? What would we do to prepare a place for this most important Guest?

People, look east. The time is near…

...it's independence day!

Come, thou long-expected Jesus, born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us; let us find our rest in Thee.

Born thy people to deliver, born a child and yet a King,

Born to reign in us forever, now Thy gracious kingdom bring.

---Charles Wesley, 1744

Advent is all about…well, you know…hope, peace, joy, and love, right? This hymn says Advent is all about…freedom…deliverance…a kingdom of grace. A topsy-turvy kingdom ruled by a child-king, reigning not over us, but in us. Free from what, we may wonder? We are living in the USA, as free as any people in the world. But there are bars that imprison us in a narrow world of small expectations and low risks. We are prisoner to our fears and sins, allowing them to hold us back from full participation in Christ’s kingdom of grace. In so many ways, we are far from free.

But the reign of the Christ Child? All about the freedom, my friends. In this kingdom, we are beckoned, day by day, to venture beyond the limits we set for ourselves and each other. In this kingdom there is no place for our small-minded fears and doubts.

Talk about your revolution….it’s independence day!