Memorial Day -- No Greater Love

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.”John 15:13

Memorial Day. A day to remember, to reflect, and to give thanks.

In the sanctuary of our church, there are two flags. One is the Christian flag, and the other, the flag of the United States of America.

Both flags represent freedom. The Christian flag reminds us of the freedom from sin that Jesus Christ won for us. The American flag reminds us of the freedom we have celebrated as a nation for 241 years, and for the freedom that the citizens of this nation enjoy.

And in both instances, freedom came at a cost. The ultimate cost.

The freedom that Jesus won for us came at the cost of his life. He laid down his life, for us.

The freedom that we enjoy in this great nation also came at the ultimate cost. Over the centuries, countless men and women in the military have given their lives, so that you and I can live in freedom. They laid down their lives, for us. Because they loved this nation, they went to war. For us.

In our town of Georgetown, the local VFW Post recently dedicated a War Memorial that spans all the wars our men and women have fought. It is a beautiful tribute to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice – and to those who were and are currently willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, our veterans and current military personnel.

Jesus said, “No greater love is there than this: that a person is willing to lay down their life for their friends.” Jesus proved his love for you and me, by dying on the cross. 

The men and women for whom we observe this holiday proved their love for this nation, and they paid the ultimate cost. Again, for you and me.

In Katharine Lee Bates's hymn, “America, the Beautiful,” the third stanza begins with these words:

O beautiful for heroes proved in liberating strife, 

Who more than self their country loved, 

And mercy more than life!

Bates captures the spirit that you and I need to remember today. For were there not those “who more than self their country loved,” I'm not sure what our nation (or our world) would be like today. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be as free and prosperous and secure as it is right now.

So today as we enjoy a day at the beach, or an evening barbecue, or a leisurely hike in the mountains, or just a day off – let us do it with a grateful heart.

Because someone who probably didn't even know you, gave their life so that you could enjoy the day.

Remember, and give thanks.

Pinterest Perfection, and What Really Matters

“People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”1 Samuel 16:7

One Saturday Carol and I were cleaning house and making preparations for hosting some friends at our home for lunch after church the next day. Carol was doing most of the cooking, but I didn't want to stay on the sidelines, so I kept pestering her for something I could do to help with the food preparation. “I'll tell you what,” she said. “It can be your job to go look up how to make the chocolate-dipped strawberries that we're going to have for dessert.”

So I did what I always do when I want to find a recipe: I got onto the Pinterest app on my phone.

Pinterest, if you didn't know, is a treasure trove of ideas and DIY projects and solutions to common problems. People find something that works for them, they take a few pictures, write a description, and then the “pin” it on their board. Other people can look at their “pins” simply by using common keywords in a search menu. There are literally bajillions (that's like a million with about a dozen zeroes after it) of things you can find on Pinterest.

When I searched for “Chocolate” + “Dipped” + “Strawberries” hundreds of mouth-watering images appeared on my screen. Images like these:

I was inspired! When I clicked on the recipes, they were amazingly simple. Just wash and thoroughly dry the strawberries, leaving the leaves on their tops. Then heat up some chocolate, either using a double boiler or a microwave oven, and dip the strawberries in the chocolate, giving a little shake and twist to even out the coating on the strawberry. Then place the strawberries on a cookie sheet lined with wax paper or parchment paper, and let them cool in the refrigerator. Or, you could drizzle the chocolate strawberries with white chocolate, or dip them into sprinkles to add color and texture before putting them on the cookie sheet.

Easy peasy, right?

I decided to dip some strawberries first in white chocolate and then drizzle with milk chocolate, and then dip other strawberries first in milk chocolate and drizzle with white chocolate. The dipping part went as described on the Pinterest sites. But the drizzling, not so much. Take a look at my first attempts:

I had just experienced what is known as the “Pinterest Fail.” Or, as they say on Twitter and Instagram, #pinterestfail. I was crestfallen! My hopes were crushed! I was a total, abject failure! Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad. I was a bit disappointed, though. I fell far short of my expectations (which were, admittedly, fashioned by what I saw on Pinterest).

It wasn't pretty. If I were to fix these strawberries on the Food Network, I would be chopped...

I did try again, with better results. By the time I made the last strawberries, I actually had something I wouldn't mind posting on Pinterest:

Our friends enjoyed the strawberries at lunch the next day. Nobody balked at the “ugly” strawberries. We had some of the “pretty” strawberries, and some of the “ugly” ones on the same plate. Guess what—they all tasted the same!

In the end, it wasn't how they looked that mattered. It was their flavor, their sweetness that was important.

I'm reminded of the story in the Old Testament, where Samuel is told by God to go to the house of Jesse, for there Samuel would find the person he was to anoint as the king of Israel. Samuel asks Jesse to bring in his sons. When Samuel sees Eliab, the first son brought in to him, Samuel thinks to himself, “Surely the Lord's anointed stands here before the Lord.” Not sure what impressed Samuel so much. Maybe Eliab was impressive in stature. Maybe he just “looked the part.” Whatever it was that impressed Samuel, he thought Eliab would be the one whom God would anoint as king.

God, though, had something else in mind. “But the Lord said to Samuel, 'Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.'” As Eugene Peterson translates it in The Message, “Men and women look at the face; the Lord looks into the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)

People are often awed by the fancy and flashy. Outward appearances mean something in our world. You can't watch TV or browse the internet without noticing that everything is beautiful and perfect. It definitely skews our expectations for ourselves and for others. It makes me feel like I need to “wow” people with my looks, how I dress, how I come across to others. I need my life to be “Pinterest perfect.”

But thanks to God, I don't have to focus so much on my outward appearances. Or the appearances of others, either. God doesn't take note of things like the cars we drive or the houses where we live; God doesn't care if our clothes are the latest designer fashion or store-brand knock-offs. When God determines my worth, God doesn't look at the color of my skin, or my nationality, or my political preferences.

God looks at my heart. God looks at your heart.

What I think God appreciates more than the way we look on the outside, is how we look on the inside. What is the condition of our heart, spiritually speaking? When God looks inside us, does he see the fruit of his Spirit at work—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control?

When we judge ourselves and others by outward appearances, we all fall short of Pinterest perfection.

But that's okay.

Because God isn't looking at us as if we're pins on Pinterest. God is looking at our hearts.

Maybe we should look at others the same way God looks at us. Look beyond their appearances, and look into their hearts.  

Do that, and you'll probably find something (someone, really) to love.

On Being a Good Neighbor

“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan ...came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.”

Luke 10:30-33

Early one morning Carol and I were walking along the beach. We were on an uninhabited stretch of shoreline, and the tide had been ebbing for a couple of hours. After about a half hour, I noticed something in the sand ahead of us. As we got closer, I could tell it was a horseshoe crab, lying on its back. At first I thought it was dead, but then when I tapped it with the toe of my shoe it moved. Evidently the tide had turned the crab upside down, and now it was stuck.

Like a turtle on its back, the horseshoe crab is totally defenseless. The sun will quickly scorch the crab's body, and it will die. Plus, the seagulls and other birds would soon come and begin to peck at it mercilessly. It was a gruesome thought.

This was the first time I had ever seen a horseshoe crab, other than in places like a children's museum. In those instances, the crab was always on its belly, and all saw saw were the shell and the tail, which are harmless. But on its back, it looks kinda scary.

Part of me wanted to help the poor, defenseless thing; it would die without help. But part of me was scared—I mean, there are a lot of pointed things under the shell. Sharp-looking pointed things.

Finally, I realized that I could probably turn it over where it was, and then pick it up on the outside of the shell and position it where the water was coming up onto the beach. So that's what I did. And lo and behold, the crab started to move—ever so slowly—right into the oncoming surf. Soon it had returned to the safety of the water.

I was feeling pretty satisfied with myself, when a couple of hundred yards later I saw another horseshoe crab. This one was much larger, and it was also farther up the beach, to the highest point the tide had reached. It was going to take a lot longer for this one to reach the water, so I ended up picking it up and carrying it part of the way.

So that day I saved, not one, but TWO lives. I did it. Yep, me. Go ahead and nod approvingly—I most certainly deserve it.

But later I thought to myself, “What if I had just walked past the crabs, and did nothing?” They almost certainly would've died...

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Jesus told the story of the man who was robbed and beaten and left for dead on the side of the road. The first two people who came upon the man – the official representatives of God – passed by on the other side of the road. They looked the other way. They did nothing.

Jesus doesn't say why they don't stop to help the man. People have speculated that maybe they were afraid it was a trap, and that robbers would come as soon as they stooped over to help the man. Maybe they were in a hurry and couldn't afford the time to stop and help. Maybe they were aware that contact with blood and/or a dead body would make them ritually unclean and unable to work for at least a week. Maybe they just afraid. We really don't know why; we just know that they didn't stop to help the man.

Whenever I've read that story, I have always shaken my head and whispered, “Tsssk, Tsssk” at the priest and the Levite. “Shameful, they are,” I think to myself.

And yet, how far from them am I, really? I know that there are times when I can offer my help, but I don't. You know the excuses—too busy, not sure I'd know what to do, what if I say or do something wrong?, I'm afraid of messing up...

It turns out that I cross to the other side of the street more than I want to admit. Please don't “Tsssk, Tsssk” me. I'm not proud of it. I don't want to be the one who plays the part of the priest and the Levite. And I'm sure you don't want to be that person, either.

Believe it or not, this actually has something to do with my “heroic” rescue of the horseshoe crabs. You see, when I came across the horseshoe crabs, I was afraid. They scared me. But I took the time to confront my fears, and sought to do the right thing. I didn't let my first impression prevent me from helping one of God's creatures in need.

My encounter with the crabs reminded me how important it is to struggle past the excuses, and offer a helping hand. Compassion and care needs to overcome our fears and our hesitancy. I know this is hard, especially when it means helping a stranger. Strangers can be intimidating, simply because there is so much that we don't know about them. But Jesus reminds us that strangers are our neighbors, too. Or, to be more precise, we are to be a neighbor even to strangers.

Recently a woman came into the office at church. She is a “regular” who comes off the street just about every month. We all know her by name. My first instinct, I'll admit, was, “I'm going to send her on her way. I don't have time for her today.” But then I felt a little nudge (probably God, or the Holy Spirit, go figure): “Let her into the office; hear what she has to say.”

So I spent a little time with her. She has to live off of $735 in disability, and $30 in food stamps each month. She has to pay her own rent and utilities with that money, and feed herself and buy basic necessities like clothing and toilet paper and laundry. She broke down into tears, “Steve, I actually begged for money from a stranger in the parking lot at the store today. I can't do that—the police will arrest me if I do that.”

I gave her a little bit of money. She won't spend it on alcohol or tobacco; I think I know her well enough for that. It's not enough even for her to get what she needs for the rest of the month. But it was something. As she left, I gave her hand a little squeeze, put my arm on my shoulder, and assured her that she would be okay.

She was one for whom Jesus says I am to be a neighbor. I hope that she left with something of a sense of God's love for her. She is struggling to find God's love in her life, so I hope that just to spend a few minutes with her was a way to let her know that she is loved.

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Here's an interesting tidbit about the horseshoe crab: I learned later on that medical equipment is tested for contamination with a product made from the blood of the horseshoe crab. There are people who catch the crabs, gently extract a little bit of their blood, and then return the crabs to the ocean. And then they make a serum that is used to detect impurities and contaminants on medical equipment.

It turns out that maybe I helped someone else when I put those two crabs back into the ocean.

It just goes to show, you never know how far down your good deed will go. So, be a good neighbor to those in need. It's probably going to do a lot more good than you think.

Closing the doors

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.”

- Ecclesiastes 3:1

Death is one of those things that, by virtue of my vocation, I encounter on a fairly regular basis. Of course, it is inevitable for us all; but not everybody faces the death of others intentionally. Sometimes death comes suddenly and unexpectedly. Sometimes death comes tragically early in life. Sometimes death comes in very peacefully after a long and fulfilling life. No matter how death comes, I always feel a sense that I am not completely prepared. Maybe that's because everybody encounters death differently.

So, I do the best I can. I hope that when I accompany someone through that “valley of the shadow of death” – whether it is the person who is dying, or family members and friends – I can offer something of the grace and peace of God.

Recently, I experienced a first in my 23+ years of ordained ministry in regard to death. I participated in a worship service to close the doors of a church. 

I officiated the funeral of a church.

It was a small congregation of about 20 members on the rolls, in a small rural community. The young people of the community had mostly left in order to pursue jobs and opportunities in other cities and towns. Realistically there was no potential for growth, and most of the current members were pushing 80 or older.

It wasn't that the church hadn't tried. It was simply a case of a season coming to an end.

The author of Ecclesiastes is right. 

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.

A time to be born, and a time to die...A time to weep, and a time to laugh...A time to mourn, and a time to dance...A time to seek, and a time to lose...A time to hold on, and a time to let go...

And so at the closing service we reflected on the seasons that God gives to us. We gave thanks for the faithful witness that every generation of that church had given to the community. We thanked God for the way God used the ministry of that congregation to influence the community with the grace and love of Jesus Christ. We expressed our gratitude for the harvest of faith that grew through the common life of the people as they gathered together through the generations for worship and study and fellowship.

We shared communion one last time, affirming our hope in Christ, and our common bond to one another. Our union with one another and with Christ did not end when the doors were closed for the last time—nothing can ever take that away from us.

Whenever I officiate a funeral or memorial service, I do more than thank God for the life of the one we are remembering. The most important thing I can do at any such service is to remind all who gather of the hope that is ours in Jesus Christ, and sharing in his resurrection.

I believe that the same goes for a church's own funeral. And so we affirmed that it is not death which defines us; it is life—eternal life. For God is about making all things new. God is about making a new creation. God is the one who says, “Behold, the former things have taken place” (i.e., they're in our past now, behind us), “and new things I declare.” And God is the one who says, “For I know the plans I have for you, plans for your welfare... and to give you a future with hope.”

I know it sounds trite—almost like what you see on some church signs—but the saying really is true: When God closes one door, God opens another one. We closed the doors of a church the other day, but not before the congregation itself had opened a new door for the larger church. You see, they would've closed shop a year ago, but they saw an opportunity that God gave them. The person who had been supplying their pulpit was a person who had just graduated from seminary, and needing a call in order to be ordained. So this small congregation worked with the Presbytery to have this woman ordained in their church.

Stained glass panel from the
McDowell Presbyterian Church
Greeleyville, SC

It was, I truly believe, an act that declared their hope that, though the season of their own congregation had come to an end, God was doing a new thing in them and through them. Because of their faithfulness and love for the gospel, their last act is to send forth a minister to a new congregation in a new town.

The McDowell Presbyterian Church may have closed its doors, but their faith continues.

Thanks be to God for faithful saints!