National Avenue Christian Church

Springfield, Missouri

Ashes to Ashes . . .

. . . we all fall down.

This week, Christians all over the world began their annual remembrance of the season called Lent. I noticed earlier this week that “Lent” was actually trending on Twitter, meaning there were a lot of people talking about it on the internet. All in all, most people were outsourcing their Lenten commitments and relying on their social networks to determine what they ought to give up. To be honest, it all sounded like noise to me.

But I was struck last night by the last phrase of the Scripture reading in our Ash Wednesday service. After Jesus was tempted in the desert for forty days, he was left alone in the desert. The quietness of those moments must have been a welcome relief. I was also reminded of the stories about Jesus calming the storm. The disciples were so caught up in the dangers of the storms, and Jesus simply speaks a word and peace settles over the surface of the waters.

Lent is a time of thoughtfulness in which we re-examine our old assumptions, look closely at our lives, and pursue meaning in unexpected places. This year, may we find the peace and comfort that comes in the silence of self-reflection and discovery.

Join us for worship at 10 am on Sunday as we embark on this Lenten journey together.

Ash Wednesday Service

At our Third Sunday Service this past week, we had a conversation about Lent that centered around a single question: What does Lent mean for us in our here and now? 

In the course of the conversation, someone mentioned the beautiful experience of watching a child with autism discover a new way to communicate through a trumpet. Having worked with kids with autism, I was instantly reminded of all the incredible things I have seen when one of them found something like that.

This year, what if Lent was a time in which we sought out some new ways to express ourselves? What if our Lenten practices were a means to explore ourselves more fully, to create space for new experiences, and to pursue life in unexpected places.

Join us tonight at 7pm in the Gallery for a time of reflection and hopeful expectation as we moved into this season of Lent together.

Amazing Grace

This past week, Pastor Laura explained her own concerns about a few of the lyrics to “Amazing Grace,” but in her comments, she emphasized the beauty of grace and its transformative effects on the song’s author, John Newton. Jonathon Aitken writes beautifully about the significance of grace for Newton’s life:

Newton’s early years were indeed disgraceful. He was a wild and angry young man who rebelled against authority at every opportunity, starting with foolish acts of disobedience against his father. Press-ganged at the age of eighteen into the Royal Navy, he broke its rules so recklessly that he earned himself a public flogging for desertion. Filled with “bitter rage and black despair,” he was torn between committing suicide and murdering his captain. Only his unrequited love for a thirteen-year-old girl he had met in Chatham, Polly Catlett, restrained his destructive instincts. Exchanged from his warship to a slave ship in Madeira, Newton became even wilder in his behavior. “I was exceedingly vile,” he said. “I not only sinned with a high hand myself but made it my study to tempt and seduce others upon every occasion.” Revealing the first glimpse of his later talent as a hymn-writer, he composed a derogatory song about his new captain and taught it to the entire crew. He had to leave the ship in a hurry after that bout of troublemaking; so Newton’s next move was to work for a shore-based slave trader in Sierra Leone. He indulged in every available vice including witchcraft. Accused (unfairly) of stealing, he fell foul of his employer’s black mistress, a tribal princess who imprisoned him in chains, starved him, and treated him brutally. He was rescued from a remote part of the West African coastline by a ship’s captain from Liverpool. Because Newton’s lifestyle had improved by this time, he initially refused the offer of a passage home, but the thought of seeing Polly again won him over. During the long voyage to England Newton again behaved appallingly as a troublemaker. Although he had been brought up in the Christian faith by his devout mother, who died when he was six, Newton had become such an aggressive atheist and blasphemer that even his shipmates were shocked by his oaths. Halfway across the Atlantic, out of boredom, he picked up the only available book on board the ship, The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. As he read it he began to worry that its words might be true. So he slammed the book shut and went to sleep until awakened in the middle of a terrifying storm by the cry, “The ship is sinking!” The ship was badly holed and waterlogged. As it seemed to be going down, Newton, to his own great astonishment, began to pray, “Lord, have mercy on us!” After many hours of extreme peril, the storm subsided, and Newton felt at peace. “About this time,” he said, “I began to know that there is a God who answers prayer.” Almost immediately Newton stopped swearing, changed his licentious lifestyle, and started to pray and read the Bible. From that day, March 21, 1748, until his death in 1807 he never let a year go by without recognizing in prayerful thanksgiving what he called his “great turning day” of conversion.

Aitken, Jonathan; Philip Yancey (2008-03-31). John Newton: From Disgrace to Amazing Grace (p. 19). Crossway Books. Kindle Edition.

From there, Newton went on to become a passionate advocate for abolition and, of course, to write one of the most widely known hymns in Western Christianity. His own struggles to come to terms with grace had political and spiritual impacts that still resonate with most of us today.

But as the PL pointed out, maybe we don’t understand grace in the same way that Newton did. Perhaps it isn’t best for us to dwell on our wretchedness but instead to remember the grace and beauty offered each one of us in this life. Certainly wretchedness and evil exist in our world, but our hope lies in the possibility of life precisely in the presence of those realities. As a community of faith, may we always be open to give and receive amazing grace to one another as we work towards a better reality.

Graceful argument

In the patchwork quilt that is my spiritual journey, grace was a piece of the design I didn’t understand. I heard numerous preachers extol the miracle of grace from the pulpit. But what did it mean?
My confusion mostly stemmed from the fact that most faith traditions don’t exactly agree on what grace is or isn’t. I’ve read a number of books and scoured the web to get a handle on it. The simplest, most straightforward definition I came across was by Mary Fairchild at About.com: “Grace is kindness from God we don’t deserve.”

As virtuous as we try to be, our human frailty leads us astray. Sin is at the very root of our nature. No matter how hard we try, at the very least we’re going to covet or blaspheme along the way … probably without even realizing it. Grace is the gift that redeems us from our transgressions. Christ died for all the sin humans have committed and will commit. Here’s where the arguments get hot: does this mean we get a free pass to party like rock stars because Christ died for our sins?

There are an infinite number of answers to that question. Which of those answers is actually correct is part of the Divine mystery. Depending on your concept of Hell, all but a select few of us will end up in eternal damnation … or all of us, no matter how large our sins, will ascend to the Pearly Gates. But it’s even more complicated than that! Casting aside those who either do or don’t believe in Hell, we still have to factor in the varying views of Purgatory. For some, Purgatory IS Hell. For others it’s the waiting room between the two places … while still others view our earthly lives as Purgatory. Our life on earth is simply marking time.

Where does grace fall in all that?

There are those who believe you are only granted God’s grace if you take a vow of poverty, donate every cent you make to charity and devote your life to Christ’s mission. There are those who believe as long as one person suffers none shall be granted eternal life. Still others believe so long as you say God and Jesus are A-OK in your book, your place in heaven is waiting. But who is right?
Seems like a cruel guessing game, doesn’t it? But this isn’t some Diving game of Clue, we’re talking about our eternal souls here, right? We can all argue about grace until we’re blue in the face, but the answer to this mystery isn’t going to reveal itself until each of us is unable to tell anyone else what the true answer is.
All we have are human beliefs and convictions about what God’s message is. The piece of that message that was always most clear to me was love. Love one another regardless. No matter differing ideologies, religions, race or creed God is pretty clear that he wants us to love and care for one another. While we bide our time on this mortal coil, I think that’s one of the best things we can do … if only to make a worthwhile endeavor out of this whole mystery.

It’s not as clear as we’d like it to be

Even the messiest among us likes some small amount of order.  We are creatures who like categories and labels … a short hand that helps us process through an issue or a person without much thought.  In our busy lives, it’s just easier to use this short hand to deal with the world.  We only have to engage in that which we feel is truly important.

But what are we missing?

So much of life falls outside the neat little boxes and rules we try to cram our existence into.  We uphold the Ten Commandments as a core of our values.  But do we really look beyond just the surface of the Decalogue?  In a very real sense, many of us break the Commandments daily.  But is that truly the intent of these laws, that we should strictly adhere to them?

“You shall not kill,” seems like a straightforward rule to follow.  But how does it apply to the soldier fighting in Afghanistan?  How does that command apply to the woman and her daughter being brutally abused by the woman’s spouse?  She comes home to find her husband strangling the child and ends his life to save her daughter.  How does she fit into the neat box?

“You shall not commit adultery,” is thorny as well.  A man divorces his wife because she refuses to stop abusing drugs.  He fears the impact her addiction will have on their son.  He divorces her and remarries. He provides a stable, loving home for both his son and the son of his new wife.  Technically, he’s committed adultery.  But was staying with a wife who chose drugs over her husband and child some how less ethical than committing an act of adultery?

A young man tells his parents he is gay and they subsequently throw him out of their house.  He is rejected by both immediate and extended family.  The young man is now forced to provide for himself to survive.  How is this young man to honor his father and mother when has been utterly abandoned by them?

We desire our questions of morality to be more black and white than these.  We want to be able to have a clear choice:  right or wrong.  But life is far more complicated and disorganized than that.  Most of the issues we are faced with have multiple answers in varying degrees of right and wrong. None of us can have all the right answers. We can only make the choices that speak to our hearts as being the best and most just.  Beyond that, we can only pray about those things that fall into that murky, gray area.

The Tenth Anniversary

We all remember where we were that day, that terrible day ten years ago.  I was staring stupidly at the Today show, I had just watched the second plane hit the World Trade Center.  Academically, I knew what was happening.  Emotionally, I was refusing to believe my eyes and ears.

I already felt horrible.  The afternoon before, I’d had an asthma attack.  I was home in bed waiting to go see the doctor about adjusting my medication again.  I remember blurting out to my empty bedroom, “We’re under attack?”  It was a question, not a statement.  My mind still reeled from the images and sounds coming from the 19 inch television on top of my bureau.

It seemed so small.  It seemed so far away.  Then it all came crashing in so very, very close.

Reports were chaotic.  We heard a bomb had gone off at Times Square, then the Capital, eventually those would all be unconfirmed.  But then one of the local Washington stations reported a plane had hit the Pentagon.  I heard the news anchor say, “Can we confirm … Ok, yes, we have confirmation that a plane has crashed into the Pentagon.”

I felt my throat start to close, I was freezing cold despite being under the bed clothes.  I yelled to an empty room, “Daddy!”

Every morning from 1993 until 2008, my father traveled up I-95 from Woodbridge, VA to Rosslyn, VA where his office was.  It’s about a 28 mile drive.  The commute took him through the wind of spaghetti like roads surrounding the Pentagon.  Having done the commute with him several times myself and knowing the time he left, I knew that he’d be heading  into that area just about that time, just about the time that plane crashed.

I must have dropped my phone three times trying to dial my father’s cell phone then my mother.  When she picked up, her voice was tight with panic, “Hello!”

“Mom, have you heard from Da – …”

“No, I thought this call was him.  Get off the phone, I haven’t heard from him,” she hung up abruptly.

As, I hung the phone up it rang again.  I snatched up the receiver only to find my doctor’s office on the other line asking me if I could come in earlier than my appointment.  They wanted to close early.

I drove the five blocks to my parents’ house, shaking the whole way.  I sat with my mother on the couch, watching the images of the plane hitting the Trade Center over and over again.  We also both warily eyed the cordless phone on the coffee table, willing it to ring.

It didn’t ring for three hours.

As I had feared,  my father had been right at the Pentagon either as the plane hit or shortly after.  He dialed 911 furiously on his cell phone, but to no avail.  Circuits had been overrun or shut down.

It took him over an hour to go the seven miles from the Pentagon to the parking garage at his office.  He didn’t say much when he called.  Just told my mother he was okay and that his office was closing early.  He was going to do a few things and then try to make his way back home.

My family has always been the stiff upper lip sort.  None of us are big huggers or criers.  My father spent 35 years of his professional career as a journalist.  From the short time I spent as a journalist, I know the profession numbs you to many of life’s tragedies.  You form a hard outer shell around your tender emotions and don’t get too close to anything, simply out of self-preservation.

When he got home that afternoon, for the first time in my life I saw my father cry.  He hugged my mother and I very tightly.  Then he sat for several hours, staring dumbly at the television.

The fear we all felt that day was horrific, worse still was the bitter anger.  So many of us felt the need to lash out and often in totally the wrong direction.  Worse still, so many us either lost a loved one or knew someone who did.  There was a constant need to feel like we were doing something about this, but precious little to do.

That Friday, a group of us booked the large conference room at the office.  Everyone brought candles and at 3 p.m. went up to that room, turned off the lights and lit the candles.  One of the women in the group began to quietly pray.  Slowly, we all joined in saying the Lord’s Prayer.  It wasn’t much, but we were finally doing something.

My Symphony

Pastor Laura shared an awesome quote from the MINemergent that resonates with our current conversations:

Are you looking for me?

To be content with small means, to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion, to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich, to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly, to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages with open heart, to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never, in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common, this is to be my symphony.

W.H. Channing

You can subscribe to the MINemergent here.

Call for Art

Below is a call for art from Holly Elkins, the Gallery’s curator.

“’Til All Are Fed”
The Gallery at National Avenue,
1515 S. National Ave., Springfield, MO

PROSPECTUS
The Gallery at National Avenue, a gallery committed to social justice and community outreach, presents “’Til All Are Fed” an art exhibit to benefit Ozarks Food Harvest, opening September 30, 2011.

Founded in 1983, Ozarks Food Harvest reaches more than 155,000 individuals and distributes 8.5 million pounds of food annually. For every $1 donated, The Food Bank provides $10 worth of food distribution.

The Gallery at National Avenue’s June exhibit, “Art for Haiti,” saw sells of over $3,000 in art and allowed us to donate approximately $1,000 to Community Coalition for Haiti. We hope to do even better for Ozarks Food Harvest.

We are looking for both 2-D and 3-D original art of all styles and medium that speaks to the theme of “’Til All Are Fed”… harvest, bounty, hunger, food, etc., both representational and abstract. You are limited only by your imagination.

EXHIBITION VENUE: The Gallery at National Avenue, 1515 S. National Ave., Springfield, MO (housed within National Ave. Christian Church)

EXHIBITION OPENING: Friday, September 30, 2011 (runs through the month of October)

SUBMISSION DEADLINE: Friday, September 2, 2011

DELIVERY DEADLINE: All work must be delivered to The Gallery at National Avenue no later than Tuesday, September 27 at 11am.  All 2-D work must be wired and ready to hang.

HOW TO SUBMIT:  email jpegs of up to 5 pieces to HollyElkinsArt@aol.com along with

·        Artist’s name

·        Title of the work

·        Medium

·        Dimensions (including frame if applicable)

·        Price

Please put “Til All Are Fed Art Submission” in the subject line of your email.

**Artist will receive 75% of any sale, and 25% will be donated to Ozarks Food Harvest. The Gallery at National Avenue will take no commission.
www.OzarksFoodHavest.org

Thank you,
Holly Elkins
Curator, The Gallery at National Avenue
HollyElkinsArt@Aol.com
www.TheGalleryAtNationalAvenue.org

A word from Joplin

Here’s an email we got from Rev. Jill Cameron Michel at South Joplin Christian Church:

We need your help.  On Aug 10th Bright Futures and the Youth Providers Network is hosting a huge back to school event called I Am Joplin.  It will be held from 6:30-10:00 pm at MSSU’s athletic fields and football stadium.  We are expecting approximately 10,000 people to attend this event.  In order to provide a fun and safe event of this size we need hundreds of volunteers.  Would you please ask your staff and congregation to help?  To volunteer please go to the following link to sign up: www.SignUpGenius.com/go/iamjoplin/1270257  A background check will be required, the form is also on this website.  We are very excited about offering such a great event for our staff, students and their families, please join us.
 
Would you also be willing to help us get the word out about the event by announcing it to your congregation and putting one of the following messages on your reader boards?  I Am Joplin, It’s like Facebook only in a field, or I Am Joplin, an event for all Joplin school aged kids and families, or I Am Joplin, Aug 10th 6:30-10:00 at MSSU.
 
Rev. Jill Cameron Michel
South Joplin Christian Church
www.southjoplindisciples.org

Belshazzar’s Feast

 

Rembrandt’s Belshazzar’s Feast is a beautiful depiction of the horror of the Babylonian king when a mysterious hand writes a mysterious message on the wall. Read the story as its told in Daniel 5 and note Rembrandt’s attention to realism and detail.

What reactions does this story illicit in you? What do you see in this painting?

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