God of Vengeance, Rise Up: A Prayer of Lament for the 59 Souls Murdered in Las Vegas

When words escape us and we feel paralyzed by shock, fatigue, anger and grief, we turn to the ancient prayers of God’s people.

Let us pray.

Psalm 94

O Lord, you God of vengeance,
you God of vengeance, shine forth!
Rise up, O judge of the earth;
give to the proud what they deserve!
O Lord, how long shall the wicked,
how long shall the wicked exult?

They pour out their arrogant words;
all the evildoers boast.
They crush your people, O Lord,
and afflict your heritage.
They kill the widow and the stranger,
they murder the orphan,
and they say, “The Lord does not see;
the God of Jacob does not perceive.”

Understand, O dullest of the people;
fools, when will you be wise?
He who planted the ear, does he not hear?
He who formed the eye, does he not see?
He who disciplines the nations,
he who teaches knowledge to humankind,
does he not chastise?
The Lord knows our thoughts,
that they are but an empty breath.

Happy are those whom you discipline, O Lord,
and whom you teach out of your law,
giving them respite from days of trouble,
until a pit is dug for the wicked.
For the Lord will not forsake his people;
he will not abandon his heritage;
for justice will return to the righteous,
and all the upright in heart will follow it.

Who rises up for me against the wicked?
Who stands up for me against evildoers?
If the Lord had not been my help,
my soul would soon have lived in the land of silence.
When I thought, “My foot is slipping,”
your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up.
When the cares of my heart are many,
your consolations cheer my soul.
Can wicked rulers be allied with you,
those who contrive mischief by statute?
They band together against the life of the righteous,
and condemn the innocent to death.
But the Lord has become my stronghold,
and my God the rock of my refuge.
He will repay them for their iniquity
and wipe them out for their wickedness;
the Lord our God will wipe them out.

Let us be clear. The wicked are the ones who are saturated in hate, and who are consumed with a selfish indifference toward the sanctity of life.

God of love and justice, we pray: "Rise up! God of vengeance, shine forth!"

Rise up for us against the wicked, oh God. And may we have the strength of heart to rise up with you. Amen.

Loving Kindness in the Age of ‘DON’T TREAD ON ME”

“Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.”  Ephesians 4:31

Be kind to one another, Paul tells us. Be tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God has forgiven us.

In short, we are to make good on what God expects of us as recorded in Micah 6:8. That is, to love kindness.

Why is loving kindness such a hardship for us?

For one thing, bitterness, wrath and anger seem to be so easily accessible to us. The passion and anger that seem to be the subtext behind today's headlines feel visceral and reactive. Our collective response to world events and circumstances reminds me of a rattlesnake that has gotten spooked on the trail by incoming hikers. Upon sensing the hikers’ presence, the snake coils and is prepared to attack.

There is an old revolutionary war flag that illustrates this well. Beneath a coiled rattlesnake on an alarmingly yellow background reads a not-so-subtle message (in all caps, I might add): “DON’T TREAD ON ME.” You’ve probably seen it. In fact, you’ve probably seen it flying with much greater regularity these last few years.

How did we become so reptilian; that is, so ready to strike? What was it that made us feel so threatened and afraid? What do we fear that we will lose?

Our fists are clenched and our posture is defensive. Everything about us says, “Back off.”

And yet, God calls us to love kindness. Here’s the rub, however: we cannot love kindness with clenched fists. To love kindness means that we live with hands open to the world around us. Obviously, that will require us to live vulnerable to attack, and prone to loss. Many of us don’t think it’s worth it, and we hold tightly to that which we think might get taken from us.

Not too long ago, my family and I spent a lovely day at Carowinds theme park in Charlotte. Our increasingly fearless son, Zeb, wanted to take on the fiercest and most terrifying rides in the park. His mother made it abundantly clear that she would not accompany him on the thrill rides. I dug deep, recalling my own now more nascent love of thrill rides, and told him I was game for whatever the park would throw at us. So, we decided to board the Fury 325.

The Fury 325 is the highest and fastest rollercoaster of its kind in the world. The number 325 alludes to its height in feet. The name, “Fury,” is descriptive of the speeds that the coaster reaches.

Let me be clear. Zeb was brave. I was acting like I was brave.

We were loaded onto the coaster and secured into our seats. The incline was terrifying and I chose to distract myself. The man beside us, it turned out, had been on the Fury 325 many times and gave us some absurd advice: “Put your hands up.”

“Not likely,” I thought, as I gripped the lap bar more dearly. I was going to hold on tightly so as not to fall to an excruciating death.

The coaster clicked and clacked itself to the top and we prepared for that initial, sickening drop. Since we were seated toward the back of the train, we could feel the pull of the front cars as they began their rapid descent. 

I held on. Firmly. White knuckles and all.

But it did me no good. I came up out of the seat and I felt the unmistakable sensation of weightlessness. We rocketed down, endlessly it would seem, until it occurred to me: my fierce grip to remain in the car wasn't doing me any good. Although I was holding on with all my life, my clenched hands on the lap bar were not securing me to the coaster. No, the lap bar was holding me tight and I felt strangely secure knowing that I might survive the ride after all.

So, I lifted my hands in the air and allowed the ride to take me.

And take me it did—slicing left and right, dropping down to the crowds below and then flying immediately to the clouds above. I had given myself to the ride, trusting that I was being held in place by the safety features. And since I had surrendered myself to the Fury 325, I was able to enjoy it far more than if I had held on for dear life.

Loving kindness means living a life with our hands held above us with our palms wide open. We cannot love if we are holding on for dear life. We cannot love kindness and reach out to those arounds us if we are fearful that we will not survive; that we will get thrown off the rails. As people of faith, we are given God’s assurance that He’s holding on to us so that we don’t have to try to do it ourselves. And when we do, when we do relinquish our grip, we are able to live openly, unafraid, and without defensiveness. By trusting that God has a firm hold of us, we can open ourselves to others, leaning out over the rails to hold hands with the Other, loving kindness in ways that look like Christ.

Jesus invited Peter to walk out on the water with him. Who knew that Jesus would invite me to learn a lesson about faith and loving kindness on the Fury 325? 

Humbled at the Nursing Home

On the first Wednesday of each month, I visit two nursing homes and help to provide a brief worship experience with their residents.

I do not go alone.

Dr. Bob Holquist and Barbara Vance have been committed to this ministry for many years. Additionally, many others have joined us in singing hymns and visiting with the residents. Furthermore, you won’t be surprised to learn that on selected Sundays throughout the year, both men and women’s groups from our church also take turns in providing a worship service in our community’s other assisted living facilities. I am proud of our church’s leadership in this ministry, and I am touched by our church member’s kind and gracious presence with the elderly. In truth, these individuals have been effective teachers for me in the discipline of providing pastoral care.

Ministry to individuals in our nursing homes can be difficult. Many will characterize these visits to be sober and disheartening. They will say that the visits remind them of their parents’ or grandparents’ slow declines in the last seasons of their lives. Others will claim that they feel haunted by the reality that many of the residents’ dearest loved ones have already died. And then some of us may harbor feelings of guilt and regret for decisions made about loved ones’ extended care in the past. Who among us isn’t touched by the residents’ chronic pain, physical and mental disabilities and the hardships that accompany the loss of mobility and freedom?

In truth, we resist frequenting these assisted living facilities because the trips can feel uncomfortable. They can remind us of the fragility of life, as well as the inescapable realities of pain and suffering, loss and death. The experience of visiting a nursing home can feel alien to us and we often find ourselves counting the minutes until it’s time to leave. It is little wonder that these group homes are not littered with visitors, family members and young people.

But they should be because ministry to the elderly is one of the surest embodiments of servanthood.

The life to which we are called, namely a life of service as modeled by our Lord Jesus Christ, is hard work. First and foremost, service requires sacrifice. Whether we sacrifice time, energy or our comfort, service to others requires that we willingly give something up out of concern for someone else. When we visit and care for those in the last season of their lives, we do so with the faith that our presence, our touch, and our words matter.

Visits to our local nursing homes require patience and gentleness. Upon arriving at the facilities, our church members take their time in greeting the residents who are in various states of vitality. I am deeply moved by the way in which our church members bend down to look individuals in the eyes, or who help to straighten someone’s bib, or who comment on an elderly woman’s baby doll. Their touch brings life to the residents’ eyes. Their words evoke a sweet smile, reminiscent of the grin they may have once had when their grandchildren walked in the front door. When I see our church members visit these residents, I see Jesus’s unqualified love. When I hear our church members patiently answer a question that has been offered multiple times, I see God’s persistent and gracious presence. When I see our church members linger by the wheelchair of a person who is comatose and unresponsive, I feel the strength of the Holy Spirit turning the linoleum tile into holy ground.

These hospitable visitors provide pastoral care for no other reason than the blessing that they receive from putting someone else’s needs before their own. Service is best embodied in the humbling image of a Christ who takes on the role of a servant and washes his disciples’ feet. As followers of this Christ, this should define our identity and shape our call.

I know what service and selflessness is because of the witness of our church members’ willingness to serve. You serve because you love. You love because God first loved you. God’s love is embodied and made incarnate when you share His love with these who yearn to feel the warmth of another. I am grateful for your inconspicuous ministry and I am humbled by the way in which you allow Christ to live in you.

To myself and to the rest of us, I must reflect on the question that Martin Luther King, Jr. once asked: "Life's most persistent and urgent question is, 'What are you doing for others?'"

We look most like God when we serve others in love. But service does more than that. The act of providing care and assistance takes the emphasis off ourselves and gives us a refreshing perspective on the world around us. For when we are focused solely on our own family’s needs, desires and agendas, we over-inflate our own anxieties and undervalue the needs and concerns of others. In short, service reorients our perspective and moves us from entitlement—or what we feel is owed to us—to loving kindness.

Thank you, First Baptist Church, for teaching me what it looks like to serve in such selfless, beautiful and Christ-like ways. May we all be inspired by the way in which you think of others before yourself.

Needed in Times of Trouble: People of (Good) Faith

The flood waters that are still receding in Texas continue to bear witness to one of the most devastating natural disasters in our nation’s history. The scope of such a life-altering event is difficult to take in.

How does one make sense of 30 trillion gallons of rainfall?

Some have tried to help us appreciate the depth of sorrow that the flooding rains have wrought. For example, analysts and scientists have told us that it would take over a week for the Mississippi river to flow directly into Houston, Texas to match the total amount of rainfall that has flooded the Houston region.

It’s still hard to grasp, isn’t it?

Also drowning in the flood waters is good theology--that is, the things we say about God. God has taken quite the beating in the public’s eye this last week. Pastors, atheists, ministers and politicians alike have all said any range of things about God’s role in the flooding rains. One particularly notable minister said that the flooding rains fell among people who God knew could handle the devastation. Others have suggested that the suffering is a direct result of disobedience—whether morally or because of a failure to address climate change, or town planning in flood prone areas. Regardless of the complexion of these statements and social media fodder, the overarching message is clear: God is somehow responsible for the flood.

Although it shouldn’t have to be said, these responses make cheap an almighty God. Even though it is human nature to try and make meaning of meaningless tragedies, we must be careful not to say things about God which dishonor Him and hurt others.

Luke 13 describes a scene with which we can identify. Jesus is asked to confirm or deny God’s role in the deaths of eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell. The question before Jesus was if they somehow deserved their fate or were being punished for their wickedness.

“No, I tell you,” Jesus reports.

What role does God play in the disasters we witness, live through and can assuredly anticipate in the future?

Many of us are familiar with Fred Roger’s statement about tragedy and suffering. He said, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”

As life, history and the record of God’s relationship with us in the Bible teach us, we live in a dark and cruel world. Horrendous and dreadful things happen with unsettling regularity at all times, all over the globe. Altogether, we have proclaimed God either the author of the pain and suffering we witness, or a victim like us. And yet, even though we know that suffering is an inescapable reality in our world, God has vowed not to destroy or condemn us wholesale, but is committed rather to save us through the gift of His Son, Jesus. The world and its inhabitants, as dark and cruel as can be imagined, are still worthy of God’s redemption. And just as it’s true that we can’t appreciate how much rain has fallen in Texas, how can we truly grasp the depth and breadth of God’s desire to save us?

Yes, I am disturbed by the suffering that I see in the pictures and hear about in people’s stories. But, I can also tell you that I see hope. Hope is evident in the creative, dynamic and majestic ways that people rushed to help those in need. Everyday individuals risked life and limb to rescue people they might not have ordinarily seen or valued in their day-to-day lives. People of different races and ethnicities searched side by side for flood victims who might be trapped inside their homes or cars. Men, women and children helped one another in grief and in despair because it was something that they could do to make things better.

As faithful followers of Jesus, we will forever wrestle with the meaning of our lives and the reality of suffering between the day of Christ’s resurrection and the Great Day of Our Lord’s Redemption. But one thing should be clear to us: God calls us to be a people who helps.

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

This is what we do when people hurt. We help.
This is what we do when people are left for dead. We help.
This is what we do when people have no food, no water, no shelter. We help, we help, we help.

We do not allow ourselves to be paralyzed by bad theology, cynicism or despair. We cannot, for we don’t have time. We are commanded to help.

And help, we shall. Already, our church is asking how we can help. Already, many of our church members are planning a mission trip to help. Already, we are asking how we can be a part of God’s redemptive work to bring healing and wholeness, peace and love.

If anything, we followers of Jesus should be known for our willingness to help. It’s a good rule of thumb for most every problem and challenge our community and nation faces. Above all, whatever the presenting cause or issue, people of (good) faith should help.

For when we do, I believe, we’ll find ourselves alongside a God who is helping, too.

First Days

Last week, for the first time in 16 years, I became a student once again. I have begun my work toward a Doctorate of Ministry at Campbell University Divinity School. Although I didn’t have any First Day of School jitters last Thursday, it did occur to me that I hadn’t done this in some time.
 
I remember my first day of elementary school. I was unsure and uneasy. My mother took a picture of me clutching my small, red backpack and a paper grocery bag (school supplies, maybe?). I was nervous, but my mother seemed to think I could handle it. She watched me from the screen door as I climbed onto the school bus. I suppose I survived that first day.
 
I remember my first day of middle school. I was terrified. Everything was new and different and fraught with danger—new school bus, new school, new classmates, new lunch room, new routine, new, new, new. I’m not sure that I survived that first day.
 
I remember my first day of high school. I was exhilarated. We had moved from Atlanta to Asheville and I had already attended band camp the week before. I had shortened my name from Jeffrey to Jeff. I had stepped out of my awkward middle school years and felt confident in the person that I was becoming. Everything was new and I thought it was delicious.
 
I remember my first day of college. I was befuddled. My first class was a mile from my dormitory and I hadn’t planned effectively. I dressed too formally and was shedding clothes by noon. I knew no one in my classes and I was anxious that everyone would recognize that I was an in-over-my-head freshman. Still, it was a new world and I could eat all the tacos I wanted for supper that evening.
 
I remember my first day of seminary. I didn’t know how they did school in New Jersey. Orientation had been helpful and my classmates were proving to be fellow pilgrims. But still, I wasn’t sure I could cut it. I recall hyperventilating throughout the day as my syllabi revealed the expectation that I read a book a week a class in a schedule where I was taking five classes. If memory serves correct, I ate ice cream that first night of class on Mercer Street in Princeton. Because I could.
 
Last Thursday, many of these first impressions from First Days came roaring back to me. But this go-round, there were new observations to be made. Like, how young the college students looked. Or, how the faculty didn’t seem so intimidating or other-worldly as they had in years gone by. I was able to park my car far closer to the classroom than I ever had, and one of the university’s young employees even called me, ‘sir.’ But just as it had been for my other ‘Firsts,’ I was exhilarated to be in a classroom, learning, listening, sharing and reflecting. I suppose that I survived that first day, too.

Life is full of First Days and we shouldn’t take them lightly. There are first days of school, first days on the new job, first days of retirement. We have first dates, first kisses and first days of marriage. We suffer through first-losses, first days after being fired, and first days of treatment. There are first days of recovery, first days of knowing that you’re pregnant, and first days after a storm.
 
No wonder we take photos of our children on the first day of school! The photos become markers for us to remember and to recall what it was like in that very moment. The snapshots that we take on those first days help us to have a point of reference when we look back to see how much we have grown. First days are like Opening Day in baseball. The first day of baseball inaugurates the beginning of a long season of unknowns. Who knows what might happen? Anything’s possible.
 
The Israelites were nervous, too, that First Day. For an entire generation they had been wandering without a home in the wilderness. But that was about to end. Under Joshua’s leadership the people had arrived at the banks of the Jordan river. Stepping into the water, the people found themselves at a bus stop on the way to a new reality. Joshua would then kneel down on one knee, and would encourage them by telling them that God’s presence—in their case, the Ark of the Covenant—would go before them and that they didn’t have to be afraid of what lay ahead. And just as our cameras today freeze time, the river that the Israelites stepped into stopped flowing and they could cross over the dry riverbed into their Promised Land. When they had all crossed over on that First Day, God directed the people to build a monument of stones in the middle of the river to help them remember what God had done for them. It not only served as a witness to God’s provision for them in their past, it was also intended to be a lasting monument of God’s faithfulness for future generations.
 
For you see, First Days are important. They herald new seasons and hint at great accomplishments and pending growth. And none of that, and nothing, is possible apart from God.  

The Eclipse We All Needed

Our region experienced a total eclipse on Monday. Perhaps you heard.
 
Hopefully, you had the chance to catch the spectacular event that took place in the heavens and here on earth. To (most) everyone’s delight, the sky cover cooperated and we were able to experience a total eclipse of the sun.
 
Most people’s reflections on Monday’s ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ phenomenon seemed to match my own. People noted that they got warm staring up at the sun for a couple of hours. Others remarked that the light before and after totality was eerie—as though one was looking at the world with sunglasses. You told me that the temperature dropped anywhere from 10-20 F at your locations. Many of you remarked that totality didn’t last as long as you had anticipated, and wasn’t as dark as you had expected. A few folk mentioned that the four or five minutes before totality was the most dramatic element of the event as darkness rapidly swept over the land. And many of us would see a couple of planets appear, though there was great disagreement as to what we were looking at.
 
Yes, all of this is ripe for spiritual analysis, metaphor and sermonizing. The darkness spread over us but it didn’t last long. True. The presence of light enables life to exist and flourish. Of course. Even when we are immersed in darkness, there’s still light to be seen. Absolutely.
 
The Psalmist agrees with us: “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night, even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.” Psalm 139:11-12
 
But there’s another observation that I’d like to make that doesn’t fit so nicely into astrological observation. For me, I was struck—and encouraged—by the unifying effect that the solar eclipse had on our community and upon our nation.
 
I know that I don’t have to tell you that our nation has experienced a terrible and divisive summer. Hate speech, violence, threat, and the dark and sinful shadow of racism has haunted us these past weeks and months. Fear and anger have become our sanctuaries and our reactions as a people have revealed a disdain for the Kingdom of God that Jesus heralds. Despair has become a common refrain.
 
That is, except for Monday. Eclipse Day found us eager to be with one another, eager to have a shared experienced, eager to look up. Momentarily cushioned from the realities of our world, we delighted in being a people together. Knowing that there was something that couldn’t be denied, spun, vilified, or argued over, most everyone in our nation was able to stop what we were doing and observe something so majestic that it took our breath away and stung our eyes with tears. Traffic was terrible. But people were kind and patient with one another. Resources were diminished and scaled back. But people were gracious with one another. Masses of people descended upon our small town representing more diversity than we could ever expect in Western North Carolina. Did that cause discord? Not one bit. Individuals who would never ordinarily associate with one another shared space on their blankets, passed around snacks and loaned protective glasses out. For a brief afternoon, I was reminded of the comradery, strength and hope that is present when we allow ourselves to focus our attention together.
 
Eclipse Day was a great day for us. But let’s not wait until May 11, 2078 before we experience that same unifying moment again.
 
There’s Kingdom Work to be done, y’all, to ensure that we won’t have to postpone shalom—peace—for 61 years. I’m ready. Who’s with me? 

The B-I-B-L-E: That’s the Book for Me

"The Bible is alive, it speaks to me; it has feet, it runs after me; it has hands, it lays hold of me."
-Martin Luther
 
What is your relationship with God’s Word?
 
By God’s Word, of course, I mean the Bible. Most Christians will quickly profess their love for the Bible. But like many of our relationships, our connection and loyalty to Another will wax and wane. The same goes for me.
 
My first Bible was a small New Testament that was presented to my parents when I was dedicated. It was red and worn from my greasy, preschool hands. Although I couldn’t read it, I carried it with me to church. It was common knowledge that one took their Bible with them to church. Apparently, 4-year-olds were not exempt.
 
When I began first grade, I was given a hardbound copy of the King James Bible in worship at the beginning of the school year. I couldn’t understand a lick of it, but I loved the dramatic pictures scattered throughout the book.
 
A couple of years later I received a children’s Bible for Christmas. I adored that gift and began to rapidly read through the gospels. There were few, if any pictures, but it was written in a vernacular I could understand. You can imagine my grief, then, when I placed this prized Bible on the hood of our Buick station wagon just before we pulled out of the church’s parking lot. We looked along the road for it but never found it. I was devastated.
 
My next Bible was a sleek, softbound New International Version Bible. It accompanied me on youth retreats and mission trips. It was used for personal reading, devotions and Bible study. To this day, it still has remnants of my past, pressed between its pages, like a 20th century time capsule.
 
My first real Study Bible entered the picture when I went off to college. The notes at the bottom of the page helped me to decipher tough passages and difficult stories. It proved to be a faithful guide as I prepared studies and devotions while I served as a student summer missionary.

By that time I was expected to have a different kind of Bible. I needed to have access to a Bible whose translation could be trusted from an academic perspective. I was learning, you see, that words and phrases matter. I knew the Message. But now, I needed to know how the Message had come to be given in the first place.
 
What would follow would be a quick succession of any number of Bible translations in any number of languages. These Bibles, which sit closest to my desk, provide me access to a dynamic expression of God’s Word.
 
My relationship with God’s Word today is complicated. It’s difficult to pastor, or to lead a Bible study, without a firm understanding of and familiarity with God’s Word. The trap for me, though, is to not treat the Bible as a tool of the trade. I must confess that it’s tempting to read the Bible for expediency—that is, for its professional usefulness. If I am derelict in my duties, I’ll read scripture for the sole purpose of preparation for my work to develop a sermon or some other ministerial demand. Ultimately, this does not reveal a healthy relationship with God’s Word as it can ignore an intimate and personal reading of the text.
 
I am convicted by the way in which I have been using, reading and reflecting on scripture, and I want to reclaim the zeal I once had for God’s Holy Word. Scripture shouldn’t be used to get something accomplished. It should be savored, pored over, delighted in and meditated upon. As followers of Jesus who are commanded to walk humbly with our God, we’ve got to be committed to the reading and study of scripture as a way to know the God Who Wants to Be Known.
 

On Wednesday nights this fall, we’ll be learning about how we got our Bible. Alas, it didn’t just wash up on the beach as a gift from God. Nor did God dictate the Bible to Jesus for him to write down. No, we have the Bible through an extraordinary process of discernment and evaluation that has stretched on for numerous generations and centuries.  
 
Most of us have had a deep commitment to God’s Word throughout our lives. Perhaps this fall, however, we can find cause to renew our vows.

Summer's Final Checklist

As we head into the last few weeks of summer, be sure that you don’t miss out on the following opportunities as the days begin to get shorter.
 
-Drop by and hear the laughter of children and their leaders at our Summer Explorers Camp each day of the week. You are also invited to our End of Camp Celebration in our Mission and Fellowship Center on Thursday, August 10th beginning with dinner at 5:00 PM.
 
-Drive up on the Blue Ridge Parkway above 4500’ in elevation and pick blueberries. And watch out for bears.
 
-Attend our final Enneagram seminar this Sunday, August 6th at 4:30 PM in our Gathering Place room and learn more about the complex and dynamic person God created you to be.
 
-Stroll through campus at Western Carolina University and pray for the incoming students and returning faculty. Also, linger by the stadium and put in a few extra prayers for the football team and their coaching staff.
 
-Attend ‘Unto These Hills’ in Cherokee before their summer season ends and enjoy their new/old take on a powerful story.
 
-Go to Wal-Mart for no particular reason and spend an hour catching up with old friends in the aisles. One suggestion, though: Don’t make mental notes of what brand of toothpaste they have in their carts.
 
-Put Wednesday, August 23rd on your calendar and make plans for your family to be a part of our ‘Sylva First Wednesday’ offerings for children, youth and adults. Dinner will begin at 5:15 PM, followed by activities for all ages beginning at 6:00 PM. Lastly, Bob would love to have you join the choir at 7:15 PM.
 
-Find a hammock and dig out that book you intended to read this summer. Then get cracking on it!
 
-Eat some ice cream. See a movie at the Quinn. Eat a couple of hotdogs from B & Al’s Grill and wash them down with a milkshake.
 
-Make plans to develop one new spiritual discipline for the fall. Look at your daily rhythms and find a time to pray, read, listen and reflect.
 
-Commit to printing out a copy of each week’s prayer list and lift-up our church family each day.
 
-Find someone to watch the eclipse with on Monday, August 21st.
 
-Can some beans. Make some freezer jam.
 
-Plan a Sunday School gathering before fall starts in earnest. It can be grand like a day-trip, or simple like an after-worship picnic.
 
-Visit our ‘Loving Kindness Center’ and make plans to be generous.
 
-Surprise a loved one with a squirt from a water gun. (Extra points for those who attempt this during the ‘Passing of the Peace’ segment in worship)
 
-Stop and give your attention to a summer thunderstorm and be mindful of the work of our awesome God.
 
There are only a few weeks left in what’s been a glorious summer. Make the most of the time we have been given and savor it. 

Dangerous Heat

Today: Expect a mix of sun and clouds with a slight chance of afternoon thunderstorms, mainly over the high terrain. Winds light and variable. High of 88 F. Heat index approaching 100 F in spots. Winds light and variable. Chance of rain 40%.
 
It has been hot lately. And that means one thing: I’ve been complaining about it.
 
I despise the heat and I love to bicker about it. I know, we mountain folk don’t experience the oppressive heat that our other southern neighbors experience. One friend of mine in Mississippi described the summer heat and humidity this way: “When you leave Wal-Mart at night and walk out the front door, the heat assaults you as though someone has taken an afghan quilt, immersed it in boiling water, and then flung it over your head.”
 
When I lived in Tucson, Arizona shortly after seminary I discovered that people simply didn’t go outside until the sun went down. Even then the temperature was well-over 100 F. “But it’s a dry heat,” some will say. Yes, just like an oven.
 
Social psychologists, researchers and scientists alike have been studying the effects of heat on people for years. Most of us are aware that heat waves are more than just a nuisance, or cause for people to hydrate and care for their pets. We know that violent crime spikes when the temperatures rise. We know now that the riots during the summer of 1967 coincided with heat waves on the east coast and in the Midwest. A well-documented study from the mid-1990s found that “aggravated assaults roughly doubled in Dallas when the average temperature rose from 75 F to 95 F.”
 
And then there’s road rage. One study proved that motorists were quicker to lay on their horns on hot days when cars at intersections were slow at responding to a changing traffic light. In another study involving our nation’s pastime, pitchers on Major League Baseball teams were more likely to throw at, and hit batters in retaliation, when it is hot rather than when it is cool.  
 
Yes, the heat makes us cranky. But it can also affect the way in which we think or perceive the world around us. As it turns out, we’re far more likely to ‘project’ whatever we’re experiencing in the moment into the future even though the facts don’t support it. Social economists tell us that this ‘projection bias’ distorts our worldview and can make us far more reactive in the moment. To put it simply, the heat can make us overreact to stuff. As you can imagine, this can lead to some very bad decision-making.
 
In my experience and observation, the results of these studies ring true. Regardless of the setting, I have found a correlation between my own temperament—and the temperaments of others—during the mid-summer heat. Tempers flare more easily in July than they do in February. Disagreements and casual silliness linger longer when it’s 90 F than when it’s 50 F. People fuss and are more anxious in the heat and humidity than they are when it’s crisp and cool. We are more prone to make snap judgements that we will later regret when our internal thermostats are turned up.  
 
So be aware, people. The experts are correct. Heat is dangerous. It can sap your strength, make you sick, and yes, hurt your relationships.
 
Both Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well come off as a bit testy when they meet up in the mid-day sun. Jesus is thirsty and requests some water. The woman’s reply seems uncharacteristically sharp and Jesus seems to match her tone with a pointed reply.
 
“Living water,” she retorts. “Ha! You have no bucket and the well is deep. Where will you get that living water, pray tell? Who do you think you are?”
 
When Jesus replies that the water he gives will be like a spring of water gushing up to eternal life, the woman mocks him and says with great sarcasm and eye-rolling: “Sir! Give me this water, so that I will never have to keep coming here to draw water.”
 
Jesus plays his prophetic card and reveals that he knows about her checkered past and why she chooses to visit the well alone during the heat of the day. The woman’s skepticism and cynicism melts when she realizes that Jesus is the Messiah, and she returns to the village to reveal what she’s experienced.
 
The heat can make us thirsty. And in our attempt to quench our thirst we can be tempted to drink from the wrong sources. Bitterness, anxiety-fueled tirades, and rage do not slate our thirsts—they inflame them. Jesus, however, can cool us off. He can give us the space we need to chill out and to prayerfully reflect on life and the world around us. Whether it’s time up on a mountain with the Father where the breeze is more pronounced, or if it’s immersing ourselves in the cool, truth-revealing waters of Christ’s presence, Jesus is the antidote to that itchy, irascible feeling we get when life’s heat gets too hard to bear.
 
Stay hydrated these last weeks of summer by drinking deeply from the well of God’s goodness. Like a sip from a good, old mountain spring, Jesus’s presence can make us cool, calm and collected.
 
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Read more about how the heat affects us our sensibilities. Click on this link to read Katherin Milkman’s excellent article in the Washington Post.  https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2017/07/21/heat-doesnt-just-make-us-cranky-it-makes-us-dumb-shoppers/?utm_term=.ef475e1ceab3

David, Cinderella & The Shawshank Redemption

Quiz Question: What do the following movies have in common?
 
-Rocky
-Hoosiers
-Rudy
-The Karate Kid
-Seabiscuit
-The Hunger Games
-Braveheart
-The Harry Potter series
-The Shawshank Redemption
-La La Land
-Star Wars
 
Answer: They all feature the story of an underdog.
 
If you ever want to see a grown man cry, then show him a movie where a longshot protagonist or a woe begotten football team rises from the ashes and triumphs in the face of daunting challenges and long odds. If you want inspiration, dial up Braveheart as he takes on the British Crown, or Erin Brockovich who fights a corrupt system that is hurting innocent families. If you want to encourage a kid who feels down on their luck, show him the transforming story of the Karate Kid or even the Lion King.
 
We love these stories. And if you start looking around, you’ll see that Cinderella stories are everywhere. In fact, it’s hard to find a story that doesn’t have a disadvantaged individual seeking to rise-up and succeed. Go ahead. Prove me wrong.
 
The granddaddy of them all is one of the best-known stories in the Bible. It’s the tale of a small, shepherd boy who agrees to take on the fiercest of all warriors. God’s anointed, David, slays Goliath with what amounts to a child’s weapon. David may be but a lad, but his craftiness helps him to overcome insurmountable odds and his army wins the battle.
 
What is it about this story that we love so much? Why do underdogs win our hearts so easily?
 
We are drawn to this theme because it gives us hope to see others overcome adversity. It can be difficult to identify with characters who are superhuman because most of us are keenly aware of our shortcomings and faults. But when we catch a glimpse of someone who is like us succeed amid such disadvantages, we are thrilled by the prospect that we, too, can triumph.
 
Jesus routinely championed the underdogs of his day. Why do you think the poor, the sick, and the maligned loved him so? Jesus gave these individuals hope. He offered forgiveness, empowered those without pedigree to change the world, and brought redemption to those who couldn’t sink lower in life. Further cementing his legacy for lifting up the cause of the underdog, he cautioned the mighty and privileged to be humble and deferential to others. Heck, Jesus himself becomes an underdog—washing his disciples’ feet and dying at the hands of the powerbrokers of the day--out of love for us. Easter, that is Resurrection Day, is the ultimate rags to riches story. When it comes to good Cinderella stories, it’s hard to beat being dead one minute and raised to life the next.
 
Our love and affection for the David and Goliath story can give us fuel to be an advocate for the underdogs in our day and age. Beyond my feeble attempt to turn you all into NC State fans, let me invite you to consider who it is in our world who is down on their luck, beat-up and maligned. In each of these Cinderella stories, you’ll find someone who believes in and champions the promise that each of the underdogs has.
 
Let’s be that person to others, just as Jesus is for us.