Saying Things/Seeing Thing

Through the years, people have come to me describing visions and dreams.  Young people have come forward with boldness to address injustice and sin.  When I hear such prophetic words or dreams, others would say, “Well, you know those young people just run their mouths.”  And of the old men (and women), “Oh, they’re just seeing things—maybe senility has set in.”  Maybe.  Maybe not.

            I got to thinking about some of these conversations when I read this morning during Morning Prayer from the book of the prophet Joel.  Those in Judah and Jerusalem received this prophecy from Joel after hearing from him about the devastation soon to confront them. 

            Joel relayed God’s prophecy to them: “Then afterwards, I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.  Even on the male and female slaves, in those days, I will pour out my spirit.”  (2:28-29)

            There are plenty of excuses for dismissing the uncomfortable words of young people.  “They don’t know anything—they haven’t lived.” Yet life experience can bring certain prejudices about “the way the world works.”  Or we can be too invested in this life that, if the young people were right, we’d have too much to lose.  In the noise and distraction of this life and the cares of our own existence, we lose the ability to hear fresh words calling us back to the essentials.  We think that those young people are saying things.  But the Spirit of God may be speaking through them.

            And when it comes to dreaming dreams, it may be that a long life that brings much knowledge and wisdom can be challenges only when we close our eyes and see things in ways that we cannot control.  For those who are older, dreams may be the only way that God can break through to reach us.  The disciplines of psychology as taught by Freud, Adler, Jung and so many others have invested a lot in dream analysis.  Dreams can provide the subconscious story or a path to clarity about life issues.  Dreams, however, can be ways that God communicates with us as we grow older.  Those dreams can move far beyond life issues to a word that God has for us all.

            Not too long ago, an older church member struggled with her faith as she lay dying of brain cancer.  Many wondered at her sanity and comfort as she entered unknown landscapes.  She fell into a coma, where one can hear and see so much.  But she woke one day and told her daughter in startling clarity, “I just saw my brothers across the river, and they told me that I needed to come.  Does that mean I am dying?”  Yes, her daughter said, “they are saying that it is okay to die.”  Her mother replied, “Oh, good.”  Then she shut her eyes, never to wake again.

            Not only was this woman dreaming of her own death.  She also spoke to us about the reality of eternal life and the need to prepare to cross over to the Greater Shore.  The Spirit was speaking.

            I pray always for a discerning mind and heart.  I don’t want to dismiss another when he or she says things.  I can’t refuse them simply by telling them, “Oh, you’re just saying things” or “Oh, you’re just seeing things.”  God’s Spirit speaks in unexpected times and ways through unexpected people.

War Veterans

Veterans Day is, to me, a very important national occasion for celebration and remembrance.  My father, a veteran of the Second World War, rarely wanted to discuss his experiences until just the last few years.  In the last decade, he has been able to connect with some of his shipmates and participated in a ceremony in San Diego where all were honored for service and sacrifice to their country.  Now he talks in great detail, not about himself, but about the sacrifices the sacrifices one must make to preserve freedom.

My grandpa was a veteran of the First World War, “the war to end all wars.”  He, too, never wanted to tell of the trials and tribulations he suffered on the front in France.  As I boy, I remember having a look at his medals, which he kept stored away. 

Vietnam was different, and the veterans from that war have struggled to be appreciated for duty to their country.  I did not have an opportunity to serve, but I came close.  My draft lottery number was low, but the war ended near the time of my possible draft.  So I do not have the experience of being a veteran.  There are many like me—and some who have answered the call of their country to serve in Iraq and Afghanistan.  And I honor them.

Still, on Veterans Day, I am not a veteran.  Or am I?

        The New Testament reminds me that I am alongside every other Christian who strives to follow Jesus.  For, as the apostle Paul says, there is a battle being waged by the Evil One to claim souls in this world.  There are principalities and powers at work to bring blessing and strength, or to bring harm and hell for the spirit.  He tells the Ephesians to “put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.” (6:13)

        Nearly 40 years ago, I committed my life to Jesus Christ.  Spiritual warfare has become more real to me each and every day of service.  That makes me a spiritual veteran.  But there are countless others in every age who have been in the battle.

        I watched a special on the Battle of the Bulge.  Toward the end, one of those who fought and survived said that, yes, he was a veteran—but not a hero.  He referred to many soldiers buried in France and said, “They are the heroes.”

       Christians have heroes, too.  We call them saints.  Many have died in the name of Christ, and still do today.  I am no hero.  I strive to be a saint each day.  And I still am in the battle.

God and Election Day

Every four years, our nation holds an election for president.  It’s always a time of soul-searching.  We may have passions about one candidate or another, or about one political or moral agenda or another.  Before any one of us steps into the voting booth, my hope is that we take a moment to pray about the decision that we are making.  The question before any of us is not what we prefer individually, or how we might want to further a personal agenda or emotion.

            The question always is:  Where is God in this choice?  What would Jesus do?  In the end, for the Christian, a voting decision is not personal or political.  It is theological.  So we ask:  in my vote, how do I help to further God’s intent for this nation at this time?

            As a priest, I have been pressed on this point by people from both ends of the political spectrum.  I recall, as an election day approached, being asked directly, “Who do you think God wants to be elected?  I never answer such a question, since any specific statement that I might make could well be proven wrong.  And what would that say about my insight into God’s will?   I also have my own preferences among a slate of candidates.

            Blessedly, a long time ago, when I served as a seminarian assistant at Christ Church, South Pittsburg, Tennessee, I faced a wrenching dilemma in October and November.  You see, the town is six miles from the Tennessee Alabama border.  The church included members from both states.  College football is a passion for members, and Jesus is the quarterback for one team or another at any time.

            On the Sundays when the Tennessee Vols played the Crimson Tide of Alabama, men and women came to me and asked, “Who do you think God wants to have as the winner?”  I took the question back to seminary at Sewanee and asked a wise old priest, “How do I answer the question?”  He thought for a moment and replied, “Just tell them, ‘I prayed about it and God told me, May the best team win.’”

            God does not favor one team over another, nor does God bless one political party over another.  God gives us freedom to choose and to act.

            Even if parishioners in South Pittsburg were divided on the Sunday before the game, they always reconciled the Sunday after.  In a wonderful Christian spirit, they would say to one another, “Well, that’s what happened this time.  We’ll make it right next time.”  No matter what the outcome of this election, I hope that will be a part of our national mind going forward.

How Do You Spell Relief?

As I watched this morning’s news on ABC, I was delighted to see that the network was sponsoring a day-long relief effort for the victims of Superstorm Sandy.  So many millions of people remain without power and suffer through cold nights as befit November in the northeast.  There also has been a shortage of fuel and food.  It’s hard to watch people go without in this disaster.  At the same time, there have been so many challenges in transportation, especially when it comes to food and fuel.
           The partner nonprofit relief organization working with ABC has been the American Red Cross.  I was a board member of the Central Illinois Chapter as our region navigated the 1993 floods along the Mississippi River, and went into the area around Quincy, Illinois to help with flood relief.  I was working with the Episcopal Diocese of Quincy, so I had the unexpected blessing of being fed by Red Cross as I helped to build a food storage pantry at the local Salvation Army.
            From that disaster, and other, smaller events like tornadoes in nearby communities, I saw the power of relief efforts.  I also had to come to grips with the strange reactions to requests for help on the donor and the recipient.  In Quincy, a regional grocery store donated canned goods from the warehouse.  Two semi-trailers arrived laden with many items—but many of them were dented or damaged.  The intent to help certainly was there—but to provide only those goods that were unable to be stocked on store shelves.  Aside from appearance, the cans had to be inspected for any accidental piercing.  I did find several, and had to discard them.
             I recall relief efforts after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.  Some residents of our Chapter area gave $25.00 donations.  In return, the donors wanted a precise accounting that all of the money went to help someone—and they wanted thank you notes from notes from those people.
             Most people give in trust and faith that the funds move out of their control.  My wife and I have given to Red Cross for relief in Sandy’s wake with no expectation of any thank you notes.  We’re just glad to help.  There are so many other worthy groups, sacred and secular, who are doing specific outreach.  We’re glad that they are there.  Had things been just a little different, we could have sustained a lot of damage here in coastal Virginia—and we would have been in line for help while coming to terms with what we could have lost.
            Then my thoughts turn to the Cross.  There, Jesus Christ died, once for all, to reconcile us to God.  As St. Paul often says, there is nothing we could have done to deserve this divine intervention in and helping us to move out of the eternal disaster facing us in our human destiny.  Every day I give thanks for this amazing relief effort.  I spell relief, in practical ways, in A, American Red Cross or E, Episcopal Relief and Development.  But I spell spiritual relief in J-E-S-U-S-C-H-R-I-S-T and P-R-A-Y-E-R.

Fierce Wild Priest

How curious it is that, for centuries, the Church has observed both the Feast of All Saints and the Feast of All Souls.  As I read the New Testament, all saints have souls, and all souls are saints.  Traditionally, however, saints are thought of as those who have gone the extra mile, done the greater thing, suffered the greater humiliation in every age for the sake of Christ.  The rest of us, in that sense, have merely been faithful and grace-filled.

            The explanation in Lesser Feasts and Fasts confirms that all are saints, and states further that All Souls Day came into being as a way that the Church remembered “that vast body of the faithful who, though no less members of members of the company of the redeemed, are unknown in the wiser fellowship of the Church.  It was also a day for particular remembrance of family members and friends.”

            In Morning Prayer, the New Testament reading has been from the Revelation to John.  Recently the passage was from the seventh chapter, in which John witnesses the innumerable souls of the faithful being welcomed into the heavenly place and joining with the twenty-four elders, the four living creatures and the myriads of angels in the work of all creation:  to worship God with unfailing devotion. 

            Maybe I am Protestant at heart in believing that the celebration of all saints is the best and most biblical way to be the Church Expectant.   In almost every church I have served, there has been an All Saints Pageant on the Sunday following the designated day.  Every child “adopted” one of the great saints of the Church and wore an outfit identifying that holy one. 

In one particular congregation, the practical decision was made to include adults in the parade, as the number of children was rather small in that aging group.  The parade was profound—for now it was more than cute—it was real.   The music minister and I decided to put the familiar and traditional hymn “For All the Saints” at the close of the service.  This procession was set to the traditional English children’s hymn, “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.”

The second verse made it clear that all souls are saints. “They loved their Lord so dear, so dear, and his love made them strong; and the followed the right for Jesus’ sake the whole of their good lives long.”

But the teens in the pageant made a great and deliberate error when some loudly, “And one was a soldier, and one was a beast, and one was slain by a fierce wild priest.”

In the children’s sermon, I faced the music, so to speak.  When I asked them what they thought of the hymn, one of the little ones bellowed, “Are you that fierce wild priest?”  I reflected for a moment and, smiling, I said, “Only when I have to be.”

And then I reminded them—and all who were listening—of the importance of the final words in that verse, words that ought to stick to us in thick and thin:  “And there is not any reason—no, not the least—that I shouldn’t be one, too.”  Sometimes, any of us may need to be fierce and wild in our Christian witness.