John Meunier

Halloween is also Reformation Day. Mitch Lewis has written a wonderful reflection on Psalm 91, the temptation of Christ, and Martin Luther.

Bishop Paul Verryn has been on the frontlines of suffering for many years – decades – in South Africa. In recent years, Central Methodist Church in Johannesburg has been a shelter for thousands of refugees who have come to South Africa from other parts of Africa.

They and the church are overwhelmed and in crisis. Economic and social pressures in South Africa have risen, leading to violence and governmet action against the refugees. The people at the church are overworked. The building itself is breaking down and in bad repair. Horrible things have happened at the church. But the witnesses of Jesus Christ struggle on.

If – like me – you have not followed this story, here are some links to help.

A Time magazine story about Verryn.

A blog post earlier this month by another South African Methodist.

A blog post from earlier this year by a Zimbabwaen man who visited the Central Methodist Church. The picture at the top of this post is from his blog.

John Irving said in an interview this morning on TV that he never starts to write a novel until he knows the last line of the book. Until he can figure out what the last line will be, he does not even start to work out the plot.

I thought of the life of a Christian. If we believe our story, then our last line has already been written. We already know what our last line says. “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with all the saints. Amen.”

My first line as something like: “John was born in a hospital in Stillwater, Oklahoma.”

Much of the plot between these first and last lines has already been written. Indeed, who knows what today holds for me. The final chapter may be nearly over. Or it may be decades off.

Writers often talk about their characters refusing to do what the writer wants. They rebel and insist on doing things the author did not have in mind for them. They refuse to cooperate.

The author of our lives must often feel that way. The last line of our story has been written. Will we cooperate with the novelist?

Reading 1 Samuel 5 this morning. The Ark of God, which has been captured by the Philistines, looses havoc upon its captors. It becomes a plague barge or a toxic waste shipment that city after city turns away or protests against, until they decide to send it back.

But it is interesting to note that the Philistines do not give up their god. The Ark is put in the shrine with Dagon and the Philistine god is knocked down and dismembered. The Bible says the hands and feet of the idol were found at the doorway, which is why the Philistine priests step over the threshold when they enter.

The power of God did not shake their faith in their own god. Yahweh was not looking for converts, but the implication clearly is that the Philistines grew to fear the power of Israel’s God without giving up their devotion to their own god. The power of God was not persuasive. The clash of tribal gods is not about shifting followers from one to the other.

When we turn God into a tribal God of our own, the same thing happens. Even those who acknowledge that their gods are not as strong or glorious continue to follow them. You do not stop cheering for the hometown football team just because the big city high school squad comes in an pastes them every other year.

Only when God rises above tribalism – only when God ceases to be the special protector of just one favored group – does God invite people to put away their tribal gods and idols. Until then, they will send the pestilential Ark of God away as soon as they can and prop their idols back up and step carefully into its sacred chamber over the spot where its hands and feet once lay.

Do you know the difference between depression and despair?

There is abundant chatter today about “being spiritual” but scarcely anyone believes that a person can be of troubled mind and healthy spirit. Nor can we fathom the idea that the happy wanderer, who is all smiles and has accomplished everything on his or her self-fulfillment list, is, in fact, a case of despair. But while Kierkegaard would have agreed that happiness and melancholy are mutually exclusive, he warns, “Happiness is the greatest hiding place for despair.”

The whole column in the NY Times is here.

When John Wesley preached the life expectancy of an average person in England was on the rise, but still in the late 30s or 40s. Death was a constant companion and most people had probably seen death up close.

I wonder if that explains in part why evangelical preaching was so powerful. Eternity was constantly around the corner – even for the young. Without the wealth and health care system we enjoy, people in Wesley’s day did not have the ability to ignore questions of eternity. They may have gotten caught up in the psychological problems of that the young and middle-aged face today, but they certainly could ill afford time to dwell on them.

As life has changed, it seems to me, the nature of the gospel has splintered. Where once a good rousing conversation about eternal security could always find an eager ear, the age and lifestage of the listener is more important today.

Erik Erikson’s stages of development outline several key psychosocial crisis that people move through as they age.

For teens the questions revolve around identity or role confusion. What is my place in the world? And the most important social group are peers.

For young adults, the big question is about successfully establishing intimacy and solidarity with another person or persons. Any wonder why marriage sermon series are such a big deal in young congreations?

For older adults the question is about finding meaning and productivity. It is when the transmission of values to the young is important. It is when the departure of the young forces us to find new meanings in our lives. If we fail, we can become self-absorbed or stagnant.

For the advanced in age the question has to do with looking back with a sense of fulfillment rather than despair at the life that has been lived and the future that is being left to new generations. Facing death without fear is a crucial problem.

I can imagine people in these different groups hearing the gospel differently or needing to understand it differently. I’m not sure how that shapes what we present, but it seems important to think about.

John 11:32-44

A not so useful observation: Here we see the practice popular with so many preachers of seeming to pray to God, but actually talking to the congregation. Jesus speaks to God, but the words are meant for human ears. How many times do we do that when we pray? Jesus can do that. Should we?

That command, “Lazarus, come out!” is one of the basic proclamations of the church. It speaks to things that are dead and calls forth life. It speaks to things that are dead past any hope of life – things that stink so bad you can barely stand it. The church – as the body of Christ – shouts for life from out of the tomb. And unbinds the grave cloths from our arms and legs.

All Saints Day is not a time to look back on the dead and think kind thoughts about them. It is a time to see in those who have come before signs and sources of life. It is a time for the mute stones to echo with the summons to life. It is a day of dangerous hope for the kingdom yet to come.

Desperation shows. Did you ever go to an interview for a job you absolutely needed to land? Did you ever approach a member of the opposite sex you really, really wanted to impress? Chances are your need was pretty obvious.

Same goes for congregations. When a congregation sees itself as needy or desperate for people, it reeks of it. Any newcomer who foolishly walks in the door is beset like raw meat at a shark fest.

Contrast this to a congregation that believes it has something to give. Imagine a group of Christians who are aware that they are the recipients of a great gift and that others would be blessed and fortunate to receive it as well. Imagine a church that acts as if it was a source of something the world needed instead of viewing the world as a source of something it needed desperately – people, bodies, money.

What would that look like?

I’m working on a 3-week Advent Bible study on the women in the genealogy of Jesus in Matthew.

I’m looking for some resources to help me develop 45-minute lesson plans on each of the three women mentioned by name – Tamar, Rahab, and Ruth. Mary will get sermon time, so she’s not being left out.

Any help out there?

I never thought I would write this sentence: I just read an interesting blog post defending the filioque clause.

Ben Myer’s is the author of the post. It certainly had me thinking about things that I have not bothered to think about before.

I’ve not thought about this enough to have a strong feeling about it. My understanding is that the filioque arose in response to the Arian controversy as a way of lifting up Christ. In a way, the clause is a good example of how well-intended local decisions can have wide ranging influence that was not intended.