My Lord, My Love is Crucified!

Well, here we are.  It's Holy Week, and this has been a Lenten season unlike any other I have ever experienced.  I didn't do so well with the things I tried to "give up," but I tried some new devotional/prayer practices and kept up with these expanded ways of being with God pretty faithfully. 

If you have been following my blog, you already know that pictures/art have become an important part of my spirituality, especially since my time in the United Kingdom during my sabbatical.  During Lent, I created a picture-prayer to match a designated word for two different Facebook pages, every single day.  Some of those were photographs taken in the here and now, pictures of ordinary things in my yard, my home, my office, my church.  Others came from as far back as my childhood and as recently as the past summer. 

It makes sense that visual art is a way of praying because we worship a God-made-flesh, a God who became touchable, tangible love and mercy and forgiveness in human form, a God who could be seen and felt, a God we still see and touch in the sacrament of Holy Communion, a God we ourselves make incarnate as the Body of Christ in the Church.

The above picture was taken this morning in my office as I randomly looked around my office for inspiration.  The objects are simple:  a small Celtic cross, a candle, and a miniature pottery vase.  I don't often get asked to anoint the sick, but I used to conduct a quarterly healing service at a former church. The little pottery container held the oil I used to make the sign of the cross on the heads of those who knelt before me in the flickering light of a candle. 

The link between healing and forgiveness is well established in scripture -- we see Jesus telling a paralyzed man that his sins are forgiven before directing him to take up his mat and walk, and the book of James instructs the elders of the church to pray over the sick, anoint them with oil, and confess their sins to one another in order that they may be healed. 

The climactic events of Holy Week encompass that connection between being healed and being forgiven when we speak of the desire for Jesus to heal our "sin-sick" souls, and many hymns have been written that speak not only of the pardon that comes from Christ on the cross but also the healing that flows from his sacrifice. 

Below is one of my favorite hymns, and it expresses this beautifully.  I invite you to read the words, pray the hymn, and perhaps even to sing it.  It is in the United Methodist Hymnal (page 287) and can be heard in various videos on youtube.com.  May you feel the depth of the love of the God-made-human whose love for us is beyond the power of words to tell.  May you feel in your heart "the blood applied." May you, too, feel the wonder and awe that "My Lord, my Love, is crucified!"

O Love divine, what hast thou done!
The immortal God hath died for me!
The Father’s co-eternal Son
Bore all my sins upon the tree.
Th’immortal God for me hath died:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!

Behold Him, all ye that pass by,
The bleeding Prince of life and peace,
Come sinners, see your Savior die,
And say, Was ever grief like His?
Come feel with me His blood applied:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!

Is crucified for me and you,
To bring us rebels near to God;
Believe, believe the record true,
We all are bought with Jesus’ blood.
Pardon for all flows from His side:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified.

Then let us sit beneath His cross,
And gladly catch the healing stream;
All things for Him account but loss,
And give up all our hearts to Him;
Of nothing think or speak beside,
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!  ~ Charles Wesley

A Fifth Gospel



Stained glass window, Our Lady Star of the Sea Catholic Church, Isle of Barra 

My devout and loving mama was the gateway into church for me.  Like many people, I was taken to church every Sunday unless I was violently ill.  It's what we did.  It's who we were.  She would often tell me that you never know who might be looking at you and that you might be the only Bible they ever read.  After years of hearing that and singing -

While passing thro' this world of sin, And others your life shall view, 

Be clean and pure without, within, Let others see Jesus in you. 

Let others see Jesus in you, Let others see Jesus in you; 
Keep telling the story, be faithful and true, Let others see Jesus in you -

I would at least sometimes think about how I acted or what I said just in case Jesus was paying attention and on the off chance that I actually was somebody's example of a Christian.  

But not always, not even now.  Maybe that's why Lent has come to mean so much to me.  It forces me to reexamine myself and my life in the light of Christ's life and his death.  It also makes me revisit my ordination vows, especially these two questions that go back to John Wesley himself: 

Are you going on to perfection? Do you expect to be made perfect in love in this life?

In other words, are you growing in grace and cooperating with the Holy Spirit so that sin no longer reigns in your heart? Are you becoming someone in whom others see Jesus?

Just in the space of a few days, two of the Facebook pages that I follow have talked about our need to be a fifth gospel in the world, pointing out that our abiding in Christ and him in us must bear fruit, while another said that our witness must be, as poet Edwin Muir says, in our "natural tongue."   

In other words, in my mama's words, to be exact, you are going to be someone's Bible, and more than that, you are going to be part of the Incarnation itself, the Word (Christ) becoming flesh and blood, walking around this good earth.

So in these last few days before Holy Week begins, and before we come to Easter itself, take an honest look at your life. Examine your heart, and see if you are a Fifth Gospel, a book in which Christ may be read, and a person in whom his image and likeness are being shown and reflected.  And ask yourself, can others see Jesus in you?  If not, what do you plan to do to change that?

Lenten Journey

We are a bit more than halfway through Lent, and I haven't written anything in this blog for ages.  I suppose I should have made that part of my discipline for the season.  Nevertheless, regardless of whether I have kept up with this or not, I've been quite engrossed in a number of online devotional activities, and the picture above is part of one.  

Every day, we receive a word for which we are meant to post a picture, one we ourselves have taken as opposed to some professional shot we found on the internet. The very first word was "fast," and I wracked my brain to think of the appropriate picture.  Then I thought of its opposite with its near twin spelling, "feast." I took my NC pottery chalice and paten, placed them on the hardwood floor, and added a black and white filter to produce a dark image of light and shadow. I hoped to convey the tension between the idea of fasting and prayer during Lent by photographing the symbol of the feast we share at Christ's table in the stark absence of color.  It occurred to me that we can only truly appreciate the wonder and bounty of a banquet when we have first experienced its lack and deprivation.  

When you look at this picture, what do YOU see?  How have YOU kept a solemn observance of this church season that prepares us for the abundant life of Easter by taking us through the somber realization of death and sin?  May your pondering and prayer bear much fruit.

Make The Welkin Ring!

Charles Wesley (window at Memorial Chapel, Lake Junaluska)

I really should have posted this back during Advent or at least earlier in the Christmas season because tomorrow is Epiphany, and no one will be singing "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" OR "Hark, How all the Welkin Rings" for a while.   However, while Advent and Christmas may not necessarily be "the most wonderful time of the year," it is a fact that they are the busiest time of the year for clergy, and it has taken the slow-down of the early days of the new year and a bit of snowfall for me to get down to thinking about this blog again.

We three pastors took turns preaching on various Christmas carols, and naturally, I just had to have Charles Wesley's best-known carol, the one he simply called  "Hymn for Christmas Day."  Back in July, I held the manuscript in my own hands, marveling at the still-legible words he penned to express the idea that the whole cosmos, everything in heaven and on earth, was praising God at the birth of Jesus.  With his use of the archaic word "welkin" and his reference to "universal nature," Wesley emphasized that the coming of Christ signaled the restoration of the broken creation in its entirety and not simply the redemption of fallen humanity. 

The lyrics have gone through some changes over the 278 years since it was written, including the unauthorized edit by George Whitefield that left us with the first verse as we know it today, removing both the welkin and universal nature and subtly changing the theological focus of the hymn.  Nevertheless, it is fair to say that this carol expresses the deep mystery of the Incarnation in a way unparalleled by any other. 

In singing these words, we rejoice that God’s love for us is so fierce, so all-consuming, and so indestructible that nothing else would do except to come right down here and be present with us in the grit and grime of our messy lives, meeting us when we are most lost, most broken, most needy, restoring us to the image of God and reconciling all things in creation to God.  That is the gift we celebrate during Christmas, and it is the good news that we are to live out and witness to in every season.  I pray that 2018 will be a year in which you make the welkin ring with the glad tidings that the Word continues to meet us right where we are, while loving us far too much to leave us there.    I will close with Charles Wesley's original words --

 1. Hark, how all the Welkin rings
" Glory to the King of Kings,
" Peace on Earth, and Mercy mild,
" GOD and Sinners reconcil'd !

2. Joyful all ye Nations rise,
Join the Triumph of the Skies;
Universal Nature say,
" Christ the Lord is born to Day!

3. Christ, by highest Heav'n ador'd,
Christ, the Everlasting Lord,
Late in Time behold him come,
Offspring of a Virgin's Womb.

4. Veil'd in Flesh, the Godhead see,
Hail th' Incarnate Deity !
Pleas'd as Man with Men t'appear,
Jesus, our Immanuel here !

5. Hail the Heav'nly Prince of Peace !
Hail the Sun of Righteousness !
Light and Life to All he brings,
Ris'n with Healing in his Wings.

6. Mild he lays his Glory by ;
Born ; that Man no more may die,
Born ; to raise the Sons of Earth,
Born ; to give them Second Birth.

7. Come, Desire of Nations, come,
Fix in Us thy humble Home,
Rise, the Woman's Conqu'ring Seed,
Bruise in Us the Serpent's Head.

8. Now display thy saving Pow'r,
Ruin'd Nature now restore,
Now in Mystic Union join
Thine to Ours, and Ours to Thine.

9. Adam's likeness, Lord, efface,
Stamp thy Image in its Place,
Second Adam from above,
Reinstate us in thy Love.

10. Let us Thee, tho' lost, regain,
Thee, the Life, the Heav'nly Man:
O ! to All Thyself impart,
Form'd in each Believing Heart.

"They praise the Lamb in hymns above, And we in hymns below"

John Calvin (left) and John Wesley (right) at the John Rylands Library, Manchester

It's November 1, the beginning of my least favorite month, partly because the skies tend to become gloomy, the trees (except for the pines) become bare, and the temperature drops.  But mostly, I dislike November because my mother died on November 16, 2010, and that has left a hole in my heart that nothing can fill.  This morning, I felt a bit melancholy as I turned the page of the calendar over, until I remembered something else about November, something that carries joy within it even though it is also tinged with grief.

November 1 is a somewhat neglected holy day among Protestants, though some churches are finally starting to value and celebrate it as All Saints Day.  It is a time set apart to give thanks to God for the gift of the life and love and example of the faithful ones who have preceded us in death. 

As I write this, today is All Saints Day, a time to reflect and remember them, a day to pay special attention to that phrase in the Creed about the "communion of the saints."  John Wesley had a great fondness for this holy day.  He mentioned its importance to him on several different occasions in his journal, calling it "a festival I truly love," and "a day I peculiarly love."

On All Saints Day in 1788, his journal records his thoughts: "I always find this a comfortable day." Comfortable, not like a warm, cozy sweater, but comfortable in the sense of consoling, of encouraging, of soothing and even strengthening.  Mr. Wesley lived to be nearly 88 years old, outliving his parents, his not-so-beloved wife, and all but one sibling, Martha, and she died a few months after him and is buried in the same grave. 

He knew the keen edge of grief, but he also knew the "sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life in Jesus Christ," and trusted that not only those well-known saints but also the ordinary faithful folk are gathered into God's loving presence. In the Holy Spirit, we, too, are part of that communion of saints with those we love but see no more.  As Charles Wesley wrote:

The Church triumphant in his love,
Their mighty joys we know;
They praise the Lamb in hymns above,
And we in hymns below.

So together with John Wesley and John Calvin (both pictured above), with my mother and with those whom you name as saints in your life, let us join the everlasting chorus of praise, rejoicing that, if we also are faithful: "Our spirits too shall quickly join, like theirs with glory crowned!"

United in Love

The above picture was taken last weekend.  I was officiating at the wedding of a former parishioner whom I've known since she was a sophomore in high school.  Because marriage, the uniting of two people in love is a joyous occasion, it is customary to wear a white stole, and because I am a United Methodist pastor, I decided this was a great occasion for this one featuring our cross and flame.  The irony of this is that the wedding was taking place in a Presbyterian church.  But the greater irony is that this beautiful symbol, a cross with a double flame, which was created when two streams of  the Christian faith (the Methodist Church and the Evangelical United Brethren) flowed together in 1968, may soon become only a relic of a failed attempt at unity in love.   The United Methodist Church trembles at the brink of divorce, not along lines of the former EUB or Methodist traditions but between competing ideas about how best to live out the Wesleyan Christian heritage with regard to the hot-button issues of the day, especially homosexuality.

According to umc.org, “the Commission on a Way Forward was proposed by the Council of Bishops and approved by the 2016 General Conference to do a complete examination and possible revision of every paragraph of the Book of Discipline concerning human sexuality and explore options that help to maintain and strengthen the unity of the church.”  A daunting, and some would say, impossible task.  Just what such a "way forward" might actually look like is anybody’s guess, and truthfully, the outlook is grim.  The United Methodist Church will turn 50 in 2018, but when the Commission presents its recommendations to the called General Conference scheduled for February 23-26, 2019, it could well mark the end of the line for the UMC as we know it.

Every possible opinion has been or is being expressed, and not surprisingly, every side is staking its claims based both on its particular interpretation of scripture and by appealing to the sermons and writings of John Wesley.  In a sermon entitled “On Schism,” Wesley states:

To separate ourselves from a body of living Christian, with whom we were before united, is a grievous breach of the law of love. It is the nature of love to unite us together; and the greater the love, the stricter the union. And while this continues in its strength, nothing can divide those whom love has united. It is only when our love grows cold, that we can think of separating from our brethren. And this is certainly the case with any who willingly separate from their Christian brethren. The pretences for separation may be innumerable, but want of love is always the real cause; otherwise they would still hold the unity of he Spirit in the bound of peace. It is therefore contrary to all those commands of God, wherein brotherly love is enjoined: To that of St. Paul, "Let brotherly love continue:" -- that of St. John, "My beloved children, love one another;" -- and especially to that of our blessed Master, "This is my commandment, That ye love on another, as I have loved you" Yea, "By this," saith he, "shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye love one another."

I don’t know what will happen in the next couple of years in the UMC, but I am grieved by the lack of love that some of us are displaying.  Wesley was no “believe what you want to believe” kind of guy, but he was adamant that our spirits should not be sharpened against others with whom we disagree. He was fond of 2 Kings 2 10: 15, “And when he was departed thence, he lighted on Jehonadab the son of Rechab coming to meet him, and he saluted him, and said to him, Is thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart? And Jehonadab answered: It is. If it be, give me thine hand.”  In reflection upon that text, Wesley preached that we need not be of the same opinions in order to work hand in hand or to love one another.  Just how we might apply this to the current state of affairs in the UMC is not completely clear, but the injunction for Christians to love each other as Christ first loved us must surely be the foundation of any discussion and of all decisions.  I close with these words from his sermon “Catholic Spirit:”

I mean, Lastly, love me not in word only, but in deed and in truth. So far as in conscience thou canst (retaining still thy own opinions, and thy own manner of worshipping God), join with me in the work of God; and let us go on hand in hand. And thus far, it is certain, thou mayest go. Speak honourably wherever thou art, of the work of God, by whomsoever he works, and kindly of his messengers. And, if it be in thy power, not only sympathize with them when they are in any difficulty or distress, but give them a cheerful and effectual assistance, that they may glorify God on thy behalf.

Some wise words to ponder, not only for those who love the United Methodist Church, but for all of us who are called by Christ’s name as we live alongside others who may see things differently from us.

A Word about the John Rylands Library and Enriqueta Rylands

One of the most important places from my sabbatical journey, the John Rylands Library, has received very little attention from me in this blog.  Part of the University of Manchester Library system, it was created over 100 years ago by the generosity of Enriqueta Rylands to honor the memory of her husband John Rylands, Manchester's first multi-millionaire. Rather than spending all that textile-industry money on herself, Enriqueta Rylands determined to give a lasting gift to the people of Manchester, a public library like no other.  During her lifetime, she spent hundreds of thousands of pounds to purchase books and manuscripts, and upon her death, bequests from her will enabled the library to continue expanding and adding to its collections.  Note that the last line of the above plaque states that "Enriqueta invites you to your library." (Emphasis mine)

Work on the building began in 1890, and the library opened on 1 January 1900, becoming part of The University of Manchester in 1972.  It holds the Special Collections of the University of Manchester, and most importantly, for my purposes, it houses the world's largest collection of Methodist archives. The Methodist Church of Great Britain established the Methodist Archives and Research Centre (MARC) in 1961 at John Wesley's Chapel in London, but in 1977 it was transferred to the John Rylands. MARC holds the world’s largest collection of manuscripts relating to the Wesley family, including approximately 5,000 letters, notebooks and associated papers of the period 1700–1865. According to their website, the John Rylands is part of the third largest academic library in the United Kingdom, with over 250,000 printed volumes, and well over a million manuscripts and archival items.  You can see that this was an exciting place for me to visit and explore!

In 1843, Enriqueta was born in Havana, Cuba to Stephen Cattley Tennant, an English sugar merchant, and his Spanish wife, Juana Camila Dalcou. Enriqueta grew up in New York, London, and Paris, and she moved to Manchester to be a companion to Martha Rylands, marrying John Rylands some eight months after Martha's death.  Enriqueta and John shared a passion for education and were members of the Congregational Church rather than the established Church of England, so she decided a public library that leaned towards collection of Nonconformist religious literature would be a fitting memorial to him.

She was the very opposite of the Rich Fool in Luke 12: 13-21 who decided that the crops and money and other riches that came his way belonged to him and him alone.  That young man pulled down his small barns in order to construct bigger, better ones, only to find that his wealth counted for nothing in the eyes of  God and that he could not take it with him upon his death.  Enriqueta no doubt enjoyed the perks of marriage and widowhood to a wealthy industrialist, but she saw clearly that the way of love, the way of the Christ she worshipped, demanded that she give freely, liberally, graciously to others rather than hoarding her money and spending it lavishly on things that do not last.  She believed in the kind of gift that keeps on giving, the kind of legacy that blesses others even more than the giver herself.

The top floor of the John Rylands is the research area/Rare Book Room, and I spent many hours hunched over precious letters written to and from John Wesley, Susanna Wesley, and others.  There I discovered Charles Wesley treasures, manuscript hymns written in his spidery but precise hand.  And there I felt my heart strangely warmed by the ongoing gift of a woman long dead, a woman whose love for her husband and for her God still extends an invitation to the people of Manchester and from far beyond to come and study and read. Enriqueta holds a special place in my heart for her generosity and her good stewardship of the resources that came into her life.   As you think about the stewardship of your own resources, how do you think  God might be calling you to bless others?  Are you listening for the Spirit's voice?

And just for fun, enjoy this picture from the main floor of the library.  Many different figures from the world of religion and education are found there, including these two.

John Calvin (left) and John Wesley (right) playing together nicely at the John Rylands