A New Word

Michael has learned a new word. Heather and I could not be happier. To understand just how happy we are, it is helpful to know his history of words.

His first word ever was “ball.” By failing to pronounce the ‘L’—like most young toddlers—his at first sounded like “bah.” Surprisingly though, he learned to say his ‘L’ quickly, but in a rather curious way. Most say their ‘L’ by curling the tip of the tongue up to the back top of the front teeth. Michael, however, managed to train his tongue to curl up laterally on both sides. This tube-like tongue formation was a favorite fad for kiddos, but I’ve never seen a toddler this young learn it with such intensity—“ba-ull.” Getting closer. After a million more tries—“ba-all.” Got it. In a strange way.

So, “ball” was his first word, and undoubtedly his favorite word. Why? Because he learned the exhilaration of naming. And he named everywhere. Seeing oranges in the produce aisle… “ba-all.” Balloons in the store… “ba-all.” The leathered sphere bouncing in the NBA playoffs on TV… “ba-all.” In places betraying our first glance… “ba-all.” Ball. Ball. Ball. Ball. Ball. Ok, Michael, we get it! For Michael, “ball” was the verbal representation of a thing, an event, a property, a relation, something existing independently of him and from which he derives meaning and joy. Or to put it in less philosophical terms—it christened his first love… balls. He throws them, kicks them, bathes with them, sleeps with them, sits down and rolls them, and proudly shows them. And though he has added countless words—most unrecognizable, but with the same firm conviction in their existence—“ball” has been the most revered.

Until now. Yes, now there is a new word. Moma and da-da are VERY excited he has moved on to something new. Finally, we are free from “ba-all” repeated by the thousands every hour. We are impressed with his rapid, verbal development. After all, this is a compound word. We are immensely satisfied with the impassioned proclamation of his newer love. But, we are also a bit concerned. The word… “badgee-ball.” Translation… “basket-ball.”

Isn’t it amazing? His new love is still his old love. His newer passion has grown from his previous singular vision. His development and learning are rooted in his past knowledge. And his joy grows. It reminds me of John’s encouragement to abide in the love of Christ, “Beloved, I am writing you no new commandment, but an old commandment…. Yet I am writing you a new commandment that is true in him and in you.” (1 John 2.7-8).

Praying that we may all abide in Him,
Jon

Pastors' Wives' Revenge

For all the spouses who make another's ministry that much more purposeful, better grounded in reality, and firmly rooted in good humor!!

Daniel's Pre-K Class

Here is Daniel's Pre-K class. Daniel is in red shirt with white stripes toward the middle of the picture. Daniel possesses a vivacious appetite for life. He is animated, dramatic, enjoys making others laugh, and is just a whole bunch of fun to be around. Not surprising, Daniel is the favorite of many in our class.

One child's father once asked us about our dog (at the time we had one; we don't now). "My daughter tells me your dog knows how to say cuss words," he jovially inquired to Heather. "Oh?" Heather responded with shared curiosity. When the parents tried to tell their daughter dogs don't talk, she was emphatic that they do: "Uh, huh. It's true. Daniel said his dog said it twice." Hmmm...

Savannah, Georgia

After our retreat, Heather and I spent a day and a half at Savannah, Georgia. We stayed at the Westin Resort on Hutchinson Island (between Savannah and South Carolina) and rode a ferry across the river to Savannah for each excursion.

(1) Savannah riverside, taken from our hotel room. On Saturday evening, Heather and I enjoyed a private balcony dining experience on the second floor of a riverside restaurant. With tasty bacon-wrapped, blackened shrimp, chips and salsa, and plenty of time, we watched sundry boats and diverse people pass by below.

(2) Paula Deen's Restaurant--The Lady & Sons. We arrived Saturday morning at 9.15 to take our place in line for tickets to Paula Deen's restaurant. This is how the line was when we arrived, which we were told was a 2 hour wait from our spot a block away. Needless to say, we did not eat there. But we did enjoy the store next door. Hmmm...

(3) Forsythe Park. Savannah was founded and designed by James Ogelthorpe. His intention to place parks throughout the city has made Savannah a fascinating visit today. Each park is named after a dignitary and houses a monument to another individual or group. Every block or two in the historic district a park offers rest and memory to the weary, curious walker. However, Heather and I found walking through downtown unlike any city we've been in. It just didn't feel like we were in a city. Forsythe Park is the largest park and the farthest from the riverside.

St. Simon's Island, Georgia

Last week Heather and I attended a Spiritual Friends Retreat, sponsored by Asbury Theological Seminary and funded by Eli Lilly Foundation. Located on the beautiful St. Simon's Island on the coast of Georgia, at the Methodist retreat center Epworth By The Sea, we were accompanied by 50 others--clergy and spouses--to learn, grow, and bask in the presence of God. It was a remarkable experience, emphasizing Sabbath and Rule of Life, and the most refreshing retreat experience since Heather and I have had children.

Pics... (1) Entrance to Epworth By The Sea. Notice the spanish moss draping the majestic branches of these enormous live oaks.
(2) Our hotel. The facilities were a mix of modern and not-so-modern. We were fortunate to have stayed in the updated hall. Our room overlooked the 'sound' (i.e. land side of the island), which was peaceful. At times we could see dolphins curling up and down the waterway.

(3) Christ Church in Frederica, just moments away from Epworth By The Sea. Christ Church was the first Episcopal Church established on the Island just weeks after the first settlers arrived in the mid 1700's. Though the building itself was built later, the church began meeting under the leadership of the Anglican priest Charles Wesley, who often preached under the 'Great Oak' on these premises.

Liturgy and Orgy: Paradigms for Worship?

While reading Mark Buchanan's The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath, I ran across this interesting description...

"Liturgy's an odd word, even awkward, for the early church to have chosen to describe its acts and forms of worship. It was a word they had to pry loose and drag over from a context far removed from the world of hymns and prayers and sermons. Liturgy originally meant a public work--something accomplished by a community for the community. A town bridge, for instance, or a village well, or a city wall: something built by the people and for the people. The oddness and awkwardness of the church's decision to import this word is even greater when we realize that they had a word for worship close at hand, a word in wide circulation within a religious context: orgy. Orgy now has sordid overtones. But in the days of the early church, it didn't, or at least the sordidness was still in the background. Orgy described a public event that produced a private, usually ecstatic, experience. It was the word pagan religions used for their worship, regardless of how many peole were involved--and the more, the better--the emphasis was always squarely on the emotional experience of the individual."

Ouch! I don't enjoy readings like this. As a 2x4 across the forehead, these words whack my pride in what I often consider a "worshipful" experience. I tend to label the veracity of God's presence on whether or not I have felt his movement. Usually, this translates... I was overwhelmed emotionally, I received some bit of encouragement that helped me feel better about myself, my heart strings were pulled, and so on. All these may, indeed, be a valid part of the worship experience--I certainly don't discount that--but they are all about me. I wonder... are these the bedrock paradigms for understanding the mystery of Christian worship?

Mark Buchanan offers a different way to address worship, and for me a different way to assess the validity of worship--what does it do? where does it go? He continues...

"Liturgy is done by me--I am invited, perhaps required, to play a role--but it's not about me. It's about us. It is about the Other. Its purpose is to benefit the entire community--to provide protection or access to all. One of the more common usages of the word in the ancient world was for the making of a bridge. Liturgy is bridge building."

How are we building bridges?

By the way, Mark is an evangelical pastor in Canada, whose church's worship style is contemporary.

Blessings,
JON

My Holy Joy

St. Augustine wrote Confessions in 397 AD. It was a personal outpouring of his soul to God, a prayerful account of his life, and a thoughtful pondering of God’s mysterious ways. Early in his book, Augustine sets forth an eclectic description of God…

“What, then, are you, O my God—what, I ask, but the Lord God? Who is Lord but the Lord? Who is God save our God? Most high, most excellent, most potent, most omnipotent; most merciful and most just; most hidden and most near; most beautiful and most strong; unchangeable, yet changing all things; never new, never old; making all things new, yet bringing old age upon the proud; always working, yet ever at rest; gathering, yet needing nothing; sustaining, pervading, and protecting; creating, nourishing, and developing; seeking, and yet possessing all things. You love without lusting; are jealous, yet free from care; repent, and have no sorrow; are angry, yet serene; change your ways, leaving your plans unchanged; recover what you find without ever losing; are never in want, while you rejoice in gain; never greedy, though requiring interest. You pay debts while owing nothing; and when you forgive debts, you lose nothing…. O my God, my life, my holy joy.”

Sometimes I forget to ask that question: “What, then, are you, O my God?” I forget to ask it intentionally, in a way that breaks to the heart of my soul and makes me face the parts of my being that are not directly given to God. So often I am perfectly comfortable with what I already know of God. In my mind I may recite the things of God I know I should say—“God is great; God is good; let us thank Him for this food.”—those rut-like rudimentaries I inherit from the habits of faith borne out of amazing experiences with God, which have over time lost their umph.

But there are other times too. There are moments in life when I stop to think about God, asking the deeper questions that go beyond my own world, questions striking at the very heart of God’s character and identity. Who are you? Who are you, really? Why did you make me? Why am I here? Why do you love me so much? Why do you want me to be yours? These are the questions that lead me to greater faith, because they lead me to God. They allow me the opportunity to open myself before God and struggle with the complexities of faith, the deeper doubts of life, and the changing relationship I have with Him. They give me the grace to offer up my own inadequate ideas of God, and come face to face with the Absolute One, the Living God, and recognize that when all is said and done, He is the One who paid my debt and forgave even a sinner like me! “O my God, my life, my holy joy.”