A video recently resurfaced that I saw a few years ago. It's about kids. Wish I could say that it is one of those cute kind of videos that makes you feel warm all over and that gets forwarded to everyone you know, but it's not. In fact, it's quite disturbing. I don't know who made the video. I like to think that they did some editing that didn't require the kids to do all that they are shown doing.
"So, is he going to ask us to watch it?" Yes, I am. In spite of some of the troubling scenes, this video is so marked by truth that I am going to ask you watch it now. You can do so by clicking here.
Now that you have seen it, I wonder how much of who we are and what we do is getting passed on to those young eyes and impressionable minds that follow us. But it's not just true of the negative examples. I'm thinking of:
Children who are already beginning to cherish the Bible
Children in whom servants hearts are being shaped
Children who will someday have families marked by love
Children who are learning that money is a servant, not a master
Children in whose hearts praise for God has become a natural expression
Children who will make an incredible difference in this world
Children who will be adults of compassion
Children who love Jesus
all because of what they are seeing in people like you.
They are watching. Let's show them something worth imitating.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
The Reason for the Season
I'm looking forward to leading a Christmas Eve candlelight service again this year, after a two year hiatus. I think this will be my eighth time. After this service was announced last week, I had so many people tell me how excited they are that "our" church will be having such a service. That has been my experience in other churches too. A lot of our members have had to go elsewhere to participate in what for them is a very meaningful time.
Churches of Christ have historically not been very supportive of religious holidays. The idea behind that was if the Bible doesn't tell us to celebrate them, then we shouldn't. But for many of us, our understanding of the Bible has evolved so that we see the value in such free-will offerings of praise. I just don't read anything in the Bible that would lead me to believe God will be upset with us because we, on our own, do some special things to celebrate the arrival of his son into our world.
It is interesting that Christians who are opposed to Christmas as a religious celebration find themselves unwilling partners with those humanist organizations who want to take Jesus out of Christmas, and out of our world altogether. It doesn't seem quite right to me that someone who belongs to Jesus would put up a Christmas tree, give gifts, maybe even say Merry Christmas to others, but then say, "Let's just leave Jesus out of all this." This might fall into the "what were we thinking" category.
So, over the next couple of weeks, I look forward to taking in all of the reminders of the arrival of Jesus into our world. I'll be drinking coffee from my "Jesus is the reason for the season" mugs that we received from some of our campus ministry students several years ago. I will be reading about the birth of Jesus and preaching from those texts. On Christmas Eve, I'll light a candle and join with others in singing, "Silent Night." And I hope those activities will help me grow in my adoration of the one of whom angels sang, "Glory to God in the highest!"
Churches of Christ have historically not been very supportive of religious holidays. The idea behind that was if the Bible doesn't tell us to celebrate them, then we shouldn't. But for many of us, our understanding of the Bible has evolved so that we see the value in such free-will offerings of praise. I just don't read anything in the Bible that would lead me to believe God will be upset with us because we, on our own, do some special things to celebrate the arrival of his son into our world.
It is interesting that Christians who are opposed to Christmas as a religious celebration find themselves unwilling partners with those humanist organizations who want to take Jesus out of Christmas, and out of our world altogether. It doesn't seem quite right to me that someone who belongs to Jesus would put up a Christmas tree, give gifts, maybe even say Merry Christmas to others, but then say, "Let's just leave Jesus out of all this." This might fall into the "what were we thinking" category.
So, over the next couple of weeks, I look forward to taking in all of the reminders of the arrival of Jesus into our world. I'll be drinking coffee from my "Jesus is the reason for the season" mugs that we received from some of our campus ministry students several years ago. I will be reading about the birth of Jesus and preaching from those texts. On Christmas Eve, I'll light a candle and join with others in singing, "Silent Night." And I hope those activities will help me grow in my adoration of the one of whom angels sang, "Glory to God in the highest!"
Friday, December 3, 2010
"Heaven," by Annie May Lewis
Annie May Lewis was one of the most significant influences in my life. I got to know her initially through my work at Harding Graduate School of Religion in the early 80's, where she was the head librarian. Professors who taught us then, like Jack Lewis, Harold Hazelip and Carroll Osborne demanded that we study, but it was Annie May who taught us how. Later, I was blessed to preach at the White Station church in Memphis, where Dr. Jack was an elder and Annie May was a special encourager. It was an honor to serve as her preacher during that time.
Annie May went home to God in March of 2006. A couple of years before that, in February of 2004, she wrote an article for the White Station church bulletin. I came across it today and wanted to share it with you.
"Heaven," by Annie May Lewis
My first year in college my parents told me that I could join other students for a Thanksgiving bus trip to Washington, D.C. For a freshman with limited travel experience a trip to the nation's capital sounded like a dream come true. The week of the trip, my roommate, whose West Tennessee home was a short distance from mine, said, "My daddy is coming for me at Thanksgiving to take me home. Would you like to go with us?" The fascination of the Washington trip very quickly faded with the prospect of going home to spend Thanksgiving with Mama and Daddy.
I canceled the trip, packed my bag, and was on my way home. To make the event even more exciting, I didn't call home. I knocked at the door. Sixty-eight years later the memory of the initial shock, the open arms, and smiles are as vivid as today's events. What was the nation's capital in comparison with my small hometown? The White House couldn't hold a candle to that white frame house that was home to the two people I loved best in the world.
I have in recent years enjoyed the privilege of travel to distant lands, but I have discovered that whether the distance traveled is ten thousand miles or a hundred miles, whether the absence is nine months or a weekend, I am always eager to return home and inevitably say, "There's no place like home." Scripture uses the literary device, "How much more." So it will be with heaven. If my earthly home holds such affection, how much more will my home in heaven.
As Mama and Daddy made such loving preparation for the homecoming of each child, so Jesus is now preparing for my homecoming. There is so little about heaven that I know, but I do know that running up those front steps on that Thanksgiving morning is a foretaste of the joy that awaits me.
On occasion I return to my hometown for visits with cousins and close neighbors, but the people for whom I made those very frequent trips are no longer there. The house still stands and the memories are still there, but those who made the memories have already gone home. I look forward to an association with them that won't include any goodbyes.
Elizabeth Goudge in her novel, The Dean's Watch, has the dean say to the watchmaker, Isaac, who is afraid of dying, "We shall see many kindly faces. It is a house, remember, a friendly place." It is indeed that and much more. It is home.
Annie May went home to God in March of 2006. A couple of years before that, in February of 2004, she wrote an article for the White Station church bulletin. I came across it today and wanted to share it with you.
"Heaven," by Annie May Lewis
My first year in college my parents told me that I could join other students for a Thanksgiving bus trip to Washington, D.C. For a freshman with limited travel experience a trip to the nation's capital sounded like a dream come true. The week of the trip, my roommate, whose West Tennessee home was a short distance from mine, said, "My daddy is coming for me at Thanksgiving to take me home. Would you like to go with us?" The fascination of the Washington trip very quickly faded with the prospect of going home to spend Thanksgiving with Mama and Daddy.
I canceled the trip, packed my bag, and was on my way home. To make the event even more exciting, I didn't call home. I knocked at the door. Sixty-eight years later the memory of the initial shock, the open arms, and smiles are as vivid as today's events. What was the nation's capital in comparison with my small hometown? The White House couldn't hold a candle to that white frame house that was home to the two people I loved best in the world.
I have in recent years enjoyed the privilege of travel to distant lands, but I have discovered that whether the distance traveled is ten thousand miles or a hundred miles, whether the absence is nine months or a weekend, I am always eager to return home and inevitably say, "There's no place like home." Scripture uses the literary device, "How much more." So it will be with heaven. If my earthly home holds such affection, how much more will my home in heaven.
As Mama and Daddy made such loving preparation for the homecoming of each child, so Jesus is now preparing for my homecoming. There is so little about heaven that I know, but I do know that running up those front steps on that Thanksgiving morning is a foretaste of the joy that awaits me.
On occasion I return to my hometown for visits with cousins and close neighbors, but the people for whom I made those very frequent trips are no longer there. The house still stands and the memories are still there, but those who made the memories have already gone home. I look forward to an association with them that won't include any goodbyes.
Elizabeth Goudge in her novel, The Dean's Watch, has the dean say to the watchmaker, Isaac, who is afraid of dying, "We shall see many kindly faces. It is a house, remember, a friendly place." It is indeed that and much more. It is home.
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