Preacher

A few weeks ago the priest at Mom’s church asked me if I ever preach. Without thinking or hesitating, I said yes. In truth, I’ve only ever preached in cyberspace (AKA, my blog), but this was an amazing opportunity, and I wasn’t going to turn it down.
So yesterday was the day, and what a perfect Sunday for me to preach: Presentation Sunday. The Gospel passage for Presentation Sunday is Luke 2:22-40:

When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, the parents of Jesus brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.”
Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”
And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.
When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

So here is my sermon for Presentation Sunday:

Living in Breathless Anticipation

I am a missionary, based in Milan, Italy and called for all of Europe. What I do is encourage missionaries because Europe is a very difficult and discouraging mission field. I work with missionaries and pastors of all Christian denominations. When I started ministry in 2010, the problem was how to find missionaries. The answer was simple: go where missionaries hang out—churches. So it became my habit to attend at least two church services each Sunday.
I love going to church. I know that some people come to church, and once a week is about all that they can stand, but I love church. I attend services from the whole range of Christianity: Catholic high masses to chandelier-swinging Pentecostal services, and everything in between. Of course, I have my own preference, which lies somewhere in the middle, but no matter what kind of expression of worship, I love going to church. I love going to church because no matter where I go or what the worship is like, God always shows up. Sometimes it’s my favorite song or my favorite passage from the Bible. Sometimes it’s a nugget in the sermon and every once in a while, it’s a whole sermon that feels like it was a personal message to me from God. So I love going to church because God always shows up for me.
So I can relate to Simeon and Anna. They were at the temple every day. They each had a promise from God that they would see His Messiah, the Christ. So they did what I do: they came to the Temple every day with the breathless anticipation of seeing God’s Messiah. And because of their expectation of meeting God, I believe that God showed up each day for them, like He does for me. So every day for years, for decades, they came to the temple in breathless anticipation, meeting God in the little things until that day finally came when they saw Him in the face to face.
But my story is not over. We are living in the time when Jesus could return. According to Bible prophecy, His return is likely to be in our lifetime. So we should not only come to church, expecting to meet God, but we should wake up each day with breathless anticipation: is today the day? It could be!

So yesterday, on a sunny Super Bowl Sunday, I gave the sermon at both morning services in the sweet little Episcopal Church around the corner from home. It was wonderful, getting the opportunity to preach. My sermon was well-received. God is good!

The Not-So-Funhouse Image

This morning during contemplative prayer, I had an epiphany—and what interesting timing, since this is the time of Epiphany on the Christian calendar. I’ve been harassed by spirits of rejection and fear for many years now. And I realized this morning that the image they have made me believe about myself is a distorted one. Recently that fear/rejection image caused me particular problems in my relationships—all because I didn’t understand that the people involved love me. How could they love me when I was having such trouble loving myself?

In a recent post, He Loves Me, I wrote about basking in God’s Niagara Falls of love, feeling the physical sensation of His love falling, falling, falling on me. Even though the physical sensation passed, His love never stopped falling. But I need to keep reminding myself of His love until it becomes integrated into my thinking. And although I’ve read it many, many times, 1 John 4:18 became a rhema word for me today:

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.

I always remember “perfect love casts out fear,” but I had somehow forgotten all the rest of that verse. Fear and rejection had for so long poisoned my thinking that I had come to have a self-image as distorted as a funhouse mirror.

Today I am taking a hammer to that not-so-funhouse mirror. Today I chose to embrace God’s love and a new (true!) image of myself: loved, accepted, forgiven, and precious. God is good!

Cross-Culture

I used to dream of being the next Billy Graham, filling Heaven with new believers. But evangelism is not my gifting. In fact, my testimony (shared in detail in my latest book, Graceful Flight) is one that most unbelievers simply cannot relate to at all. So I share my faith whenever prompted by the Holy Spirit, but otherwise I stick to the ministry that God has given me: to encourage His people.
A couple of weeks ago, Paul, an acquaintance here at the retirement residence, started sharing his passion for mythical creatures with me. It’s a passion that I not only don’t share, but can’t even relate to. I have to admit that most mythical creatures are hideous, disgusting, and evoke a demonic association. Paul is loud because of severe hearing loss, fiercely competitive, and hyperactive. It would be very easy to dismiss him as an insensitive creep, and I was prepared to do so. But then the Lord showed me that in reality Paul is very sweet.
Paul buys shirts on e-bay with pictures his mythical creatures. Paul loves to find bargains on e-bay. He is constantly finding beautiful, unique costume jewelry for our neighbors at incredibly cheap prices. This has made him very popular among the women here. They tell him what they are looking for and he finds it for them. With prices starting at 99 cents, Paul is obviously not making any money. One day I remembered the Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman, and realized that Paul’s love language is receiving gifts. He does it all as an act of love for the people of our community.
Paul’s girlfriend, Beverly, recently had a death in the family that hit her very hard. He has been very supportive, trying to help her through all this. His kind of support has been both good (going to chapel services with her) and bad (buying and consuming large amounts of wine with her).
Paul and I usually cross paths in the computer room before breakfast. I didn’t know him well, but we had played team trivia together. After realizing about his love language, I started to like Paul, despite the obsession with mythical creatures. Then one day he came into the computer room and told me about hearing from his college roommate. He was really excited and happy about reconnecting with an old friend. But then he proceeded to tell me a dirty story about his friend’s girlfriend. He wasn’t looking at me, so he couldn’t see my expression, and I knew that it was pointless to try and interrupt, so I just tried to ignore what he was saying and continue with my computer work instead.
This morning while I was thinking about the encounter, I realized that when dealing with non-Christians, we are crossing cultures. Just as I had to learn Italian culture and customs, and adapt accordingly, so in dealing with Paul, I’ve had to learn his culture and customs. Paul came by our apartment recently asking if we had a portable CD player that he and Beverly could borrow. Much to my surprise, Mom had one that I hadn’t even known about. We loaned it to him until his is repaired. The next day, Beverly came up to me all smiles and said, “You made a little boy (meaning Paul) very happy!” A few minutes later, Paul came to me and gave me a perfume bottle with dragons all over it. He was so happy, and this was his way of thanking me. Although I think the thing is ugly, I graciously accepted it.
The next time I saw Paul and Beverly was when the church choir from My Misfit Church came and sang for the residents. The choirmaster passed out hymnals, and we sang along with the choir, including Paul and Beverly. One song we sang was When the Saints go Marching In. In a moment of insane inspiration I hopped to my feet and started marching in time with the music. I felt like a complete fool, but at the same time, it was fun. Afterwards several people came up to tell me what fun and an inspiration I was, marching around like an idiot. Beverly was one of them. She had tears in her eyes because they had also sang Amazing Grace, which had been sung at the funeral. But she also couldn’t keep a smile from her lips as she talked about my nutty march.
The thing about dealing cross-culturally with people is that you have to be flexible and willing to step out of your comfort zone. These days, the gap between us and the rest of the world is as wide as the ocean. Cross-cultural ministry can happen in your own town, and even in your own neighborhood. God is good!

The Bells

One thing that you hear all over Europe is bells.  Just about every church in every town has bells.  Some ring daily, some ring hourly, but bells are a very familiar sound throughout Europe.  This morning, here in Hungary, I heard a church bell ringing and ringing, and it reminded me to write about the bells in London from my recent visit there.

In London we went to visit John Newton’s church, St. Mary Woolnoth.  In the entryway there was a bell rope in red, white, and blue, the three colors of the British flag.  I had such a strong urge to pull the bell rope that it was literally all I could do to keep from reaching out and giving it a tug.  Those who know me, know that whenever I pass a bell, I’ve got to ring it—a character trait that’s often gotten me scolded.  But, honestly, what are bells for, if not for ringing?

Safely inside, we heard the story of John Newton’s life.  John Newton is the writer of the most famous and beloved hymn in the world:  “Amazing Grace.”  Newton’s life is actually reflected in those lyrics (http://www.constitution.org/col/amazing_grace.htm).  Then we prayed and sang.

Someone in the group shared a prophecy in which it was predicted that the bells will ring all over the country.  That’s when I realized that I had been in London for four days and had not heard one single bell.  What I had heard was a lot of cars honking, and it seemed that honking had replaced bells in London.  Someone else, having also noticed the bell rope, said, “Let’s ring the bells!”  So we went to the entryway and one of the men unhooked the bell rope and began to pull it.  Nothing.  He pulled harder.  Still nothing.  He pulled even harder, getting a rhythm going.  Silence.  Somebody had either removed or silenced the bells.  I was so disappointed and saddened that tears came to my eyes.  A member of the group had noted that bells are rung to call people to worship and also to proclaim freedom.  I had felt disappointed at the lack of worship and saddened by the lack of freedom.

So we left the church, and I was still feeling very sad.  Then suddenly we were surrounded by bicycles, and all the bicycles were ringing their bells—we were surrounded by ringing bells!  It was like God was reassuring us that even efforts to silence the bells will not succeed.  We were all rejoicing like crazy people there in the streets of London.

God is good!

A Godly Legacy

The Olympic Games will soon begin in London, and while I was there, I couldn’t help but be struck by the contrast of the modern world in the midst of a city so old.  London was founded by the Romans about the time when Jesus walked the earth.  I even saw Roman ruins among the glass skyscrapers.

But even more striking than the contrast of ancient and modern was the contrast of godly and worldly.  London is a city like most, bearing the smudge of the world’s fingerprint upon it:  crime, drugs, homelessness, prostitution, etc.  Two things especially struck me about the spiritual state of London’s population, the first was violent crime.  I had picked up one of those freebie newspapers, and it was full of stories about murder—most of which had occurred in London.  The majority of the murders I read about were random murders—murder just for the sake of killing.  And the violence of these murders was astonishing.  For example, a heavily pregnant 20 year old woman was beaten to death at a bus stop.  Her unborn infant died with her.

The other thing that struck me about the spiritual state of London was the hostility towards Christianity.  In addition to the same anti-Christian attitudes found in America, I was told that it is popular in London now to have un-christening ceremonies in which they become un-baptized.  I don’t know anything about the ceremony, but they sign an un-baptism certificate in front of witnesses, and send a letter to the church asking to be removed from the baptism records.  They even send letters to their god-parents, informing them that they will now be solely responsible for their own spiritual choices.

So it is against this backdrop that we visited some of Christianity’s most important places.  The first place we visited was the Buxton Memorial to the Abolition of Slavery in Victoria Tower Gardens.  Abolition was promoted by Christians.  Sadly, there are more slaves today than at any other time in the history of the world—and this despite virtually every country in the world having laws forbidding slavery.  The modern name for slavery is Human Trafficking, and it is virtually everywhere.  The removal of most border controls in Europe means that transporting slaves throughout Europe is easier than ever.

From there we walked to St. Paul’s Cathedral, which was built by Christopher Wren.  His tomb inside the cathedral proclaims it as his memorial marker.  Wren was one of the founding Freemasons of London, and all around the cathedral are masonic symbols like obelisks, which originated as an object of sun worship and fertility.

Then we went to Tower Hill.  In Trinity Square Garden is a plaque showing the site of the scaffold where many people were executed, including members of the clergy and two Archbishops of Canterbury.  This was not the only place in London where Christians were martyred.  We also saw the site where Christians were burned at the stake for heresy.  When I refer to Christian martyrs, I mean both Catholic and Protestant.  In London’s history, when the Catholics were in power, Protestants were martyred as heretics, and vise-versa.  Either way, it is a sad historical fact.

The Tower of London was both a castle for visiting royalty and a prison.  I guess that was handy for keeping visitors in line.

The day was hot, 29 (about 85 Fahrenheit) degrees.  I know my Texas friends will laugh, but that seems much hotter than it actually is when you factor in no breeze and standing in the sun a lot.  So in the early afternoon we went to a cool, shady place:  Bunhill Fields, which was the Nonconformist burial grounds.  John Bunyan, pastor and author of Pilgrim’s Progress is entombed there.  Susanna Wesley is also buried there, and her headstone is visible from her son, John Wesley’s house, where we went next.  The house is small and simple, like the man (he was only five feet, maybe five-foot-two).  The most impressive feature of the house was his prayer room, adjacent to his bedroom.  There was a padded kneeler in front of a small desk with an open Bible on it.  He was said to have risen at four and spent many hours in prayer.  We were told the following:

One day John Wesley was riding along a road when it dawned upon him that three whole days had passed in which he had suffered no persecution.  Not a brick or an egg had been thrown at him for three days.  Alarmed, he stopped his horse, and exclaimed, “Can it be that I have sinned and am backslidden?”

Slipping from his horse Wesley went down on his knees and began interceding with God to show him where, if any, there had been a fault.

A rough fellow, on the other side of the hedge, hearing the prayer, looked across and recognized the preacher.  “I’ll fix that Methodist preacher,” he said taking a brick and tossing it over at him.  It missed its mark and fell harmlessly beside John.

Whereupon Wesley leaped to his feet joyfully exclaiming, “Thank God, it’s all right.  I still have His presence.”

I wonder how many Christians today would be so happy to be persecuted.

Next door to the house is Wesley’s Chapel, which has the organ on which Charles Wesley (his brother) wrote such wonderful hymns as “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” (lyrics:  http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Christ_the_Lord_Is_Risen_Today), “O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing” (lyrics:  http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/O_for_a_Thousand_Tongues_to_Sing), Christmas favorite, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” (lyrics:  http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Our_American_Holidays_-_Christmas/Christmas_Day), and many others.

Downstairs is the museum, where I got the following wonderful quotes from John Wesley:

The Covenant

I am no longer my own, but Yours.  Put me to what You will, rank me with whom You will, put me to doing, put me to suffering; let me be employed for You or laid aside for You, exalted for You, or brought low for You; let me be full, let me be empty, let me have all things, let me have nothing; I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to Your pleasure and disposal.

And now, glorious and blessed God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, You are mine and I am Yours.  So be it.

And the covenant now made on earth, let it be ratified in Heaven.  Amen.

I wonder how many Christians today would pray for suffering.

And I’ll leave you with the last quote:

John Wesley’s Rule

Do all the good you can,

By all the means you can,

In all the ways you can,

In all the places you can,

At all the times you can,

To all the people you can,

As long as ever you can.

I can only add:  Do good because God is good.