God of Grace and God of Glory

God of grace and God of glory, on thy people pour thy power;
Crown thy ancient Church's story; Bring her bud to glorious flower.

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage for the facing of this hour,
For the facing of this hour.

Lo! the hosts of evil round us scorn thy Christ, assail his ways!
Fears and doubts too long have bound us; Free our hearts to work and praise.

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage for the living of these days,
For the living of these days.

Cure thy children's warring madness, bend our pride to thy control.
Shame our wanton, selfish gladness, rich in things and poor in soul.

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage lest we miss thy kingdom's goal,
Lest we miss thy kingdom's goal.

Set our feet on lofty places; gird our lives that they may be
Armored with all Christ-like graces in the fight to set men free.

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage that we fail not man nor thee,
That we fail not man nor thee.

Save us from weak resignation to the evils we deplore.
Let the search for thy salvation be our glory evermore.

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage serving thee whom we adore,
Serving thee whom we adore.

Amen.

Words by Harry Emerson Fosdick, 1878-1969
Published in The Methodist Hymnal, 1964 edition.

To read or hear the sermon that inspired this post, click here.

May we not be of one heart?

As we continue our never-ending journey of spiritual discovery, My Lovely Wife and I joined a new Sunday school class last week that, for now at least, is studying the foundations of the United Methodist Church. We are reading a book called Revival: Faith as Wesley Lived It by pastor and theologian Adam Hamilton. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2014)

In the first chapter, we learn about John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, his family background in the context of 18th-century British religious and political history, and the beginnings of his path and ministry.

One particular passage struck a chord with me. Rather than tell you about it, I will quote it here at length:

In his introduction to Explanatory Notes upon the New Testament, Wesley wrote these words that capture his spirit so well:

"Would to God that all the party names and unscriptural phrases and forms which have divided the Christian world were forgot; and that we might all agree to sit down together as humble, loving disciples, at the feet of our common Master, to hear his word, to imbibe his Spirit, and to transcribe his life in our own!"

In one of his most famous sermons, "Catholic Spirit," Wesley wrote, "Though we can't think alike, may we not love alike? May we not be of one heart, though we are not of one opinion? Without all doubt, we may." Wesley was calling his hearers to listen to those with whom they disagreed and to focus on what they shared in common. He was teaching them (and us!) to build bridges rather than walls. The word catholic is a bit confusing to some, but in this context it simply means "universal." It conveys the sense that the church, the body of Christ, is made up not only of people who are in my denomination or tribe but of all who call upon the name of Christ, even if they disagree on this or that point of doctrine.

The twenty-first century is as polarized as eighteenth-century England. We're not Tories and Whigs, conformists and dissenters, Anglicans and Puritans; we're Republicans and Democrats, fundamentalists and progressives, liberals and conservatives. Yet divisiveness and conflict drain us of our spiritual vitality and leave many today longing for a different approach, an approach like Wesley's catholic spirit.

How do we embrace such an approach today? Paul described it when he admonished the believers in Philippi, who themselves were divided, "Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 2:3-5). To the Christians at Corinth, who also were deeply divided, Paul noted that love was the defining characteristic of Christian life, and then he went on to describe the character of Christian love: "Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things" (1 Corinthians 13:4-7).

Having a spirit like Wesley's today means that we assume the best of others, not the worst. We give them the benefit of the doubt. We speak well of others, not poorly. We treat them as we hope to be treated. We listen more and talk less. We walk in other people's shoes and try to understand what they believe and why. This does not mean we give up our convictions, but it does mean we test them. I've found that, after listening to another person's point of view, some ideas I was sure of were not nearly so convincing. I've found that, on more than one occasion, views that seemed utterly indefensible actually were quite convincing when I moved beyond my assumptions and took the time to listen.

I've also learned that it's easy to be adamantly opposed to a viewpoint or position -- be it theological, ethical, or political -- when no one I deeply care about holds such views. But as I get to know those with views different from my own and come to care about them and consider them my friends, it is hard to be adamantly opposed to their views.

Among the defining characteristics of the Christian life are humility, grace, and love. The test of our faith comes in how we respond to others and how willing we are to listen to, learn from, and love them.

What do you think?

Gracism in Georgia

It was a beautiful service Sunday at North Decatur United Methodist Church. A baby girl, backed by a huge entourage of family and friends, was baptized. A beaming Pastor Dalton Rushing tenderly carried her up and down the aisles as the whole congregation sang a sweet lullaby to her:

Caroline, Caroline, God claims you, God helps you, protects you, and loves you too.
We this day do all agree a child of God you'll always be. 
Caroline, Caroline, God claims you, God helps you, protects you, and loves you too.
We your family love you so, we vow to help your faith to grow.
Caroline, Caroline, God claims you, God helps you, protects you, and loves you too.
We are here to say this day that we will help you on your way.
Caroline, Caroline, God claims you, God helps you, protects you, and loves you too.
And if you should tire or cry, then we will sing this lullaby.
Caroline, Caroline, God claims you, God helps you, protects you, and loves you too.

I'm new to the Methodist tradition, so I don't know if this is standard baptism procedure. Regardless, it was beautiful and touching.

After the service ended, I walked through the narthex to say hello to the pastor in the open doorway before heading home. Dalton said he had a book for me and asked me to wait a few minutes while he finished greeting folks, so I stepped out onto the church's large concrete porch in the autumn warmth.

A tall, well-presented young man was standing just behind and to Dalton's left on the porch. The young man immediately greeted me with a firm handshake and a smile and introduced himself as George. He was clean-shaven, had a conservative but attractive haircut under a navy blue ball cap, and flashed a set of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. He was impressive. I guessed he was in his early 20s.

We exchanged polite small talk as people continued to file out of the church. Because I am new to this church and still haven't met many people, I asked George if he attended there regularly.

"No sir," he responded earnestly. "Actually, I'm homeless and I was waiting right over there for the bus, but I needed to use the bathroom so I came into the church."

I tried not to look as stunned as I felt as he continued his matter-of-fact description of his day so far:

Here's to you, Mr. Robinson

I haven't written a fan letter in a long time. Sometime in the '80s I wrote one to U.S. Rep. Ron Dellums, more recently the mayor of Oakland, Calif., after a powerful appearance on Phil Donahue's show; that may have been my last one. Until now.

Recently I've been rediscovering some of the ancient baseball books on my bookshelf. "Baseball Stars of 1965" comprises profiles of a number of memorable (Hank Aaron, Al Kaline, Mickey Mantle) and not-so-memorable (Juan Pizarro? Wally Bunker??) players.  

But the one that stood out for me was that of Frank Robinson. Turns out he and I have a lot in common. For one, he is the youngest of 11 children, as am I.

OK, so that's the only thing we have in common.

Still, I was touched by his story of being misunderstood and underrated for the first nine years of his career, despite putting up numbers that would eventually pave his way to Cooperstown. The writer was both empathetic and critical, and the article prompted me to write the following letter to Mr. Robinson:

Every time a bell rings ...

The other day I stated on Facebook that I was having a George Bailey moment. My good friend Mary Beth astutely asked, "Before or after he discovers the bloody lip?" "Right about then," was my reply.

Let me explain.

Ever since I was about 12 years old, I have suffered periodic bouts of depression. It was never diagnosed until I was in my 30s. Toward the end of 2009 it came back with a vengeance, and I've been praying, working and medicating to fight it off ever since. 

They say that significant life events can trigger depressive episodes, and like anyone, I'd had my share of those in recent times: a job change; a big move; a serious health scare; the death of a close friend; the sickness and death of my father-in-law; the death of a pet; a separation from my beloved goddaughter; a difficult relationship with a supervisor; witnessing a series of disasters. Any one or two of these would have been plenty, thank you. 

Many of those things just have to be grieved, and that is simply a function of time and allowing yourself to feel your feelings. (The best thing anyone said to me after my mother died in 1998 came from my close friend Tony, who said, "Just feel what you feel, man. Feel what you feel.")

© Liberty Films

It can be helpful to write a letter to the lost person or thing, sharing everything you feel, good, bad or neutral. Read the letter out loud to another person, someone you trust and who won't comment or judge, but just listen. If you don't have such a person, a pet or a teddy bear will do.

It's a hard life being at once a Christian, an optimist, a liberal and a journalist. You want to see and hope for the best in people and society, but the evidence to the contrary is overwhelming. You trust in a loving and benevolent God, but you witness daily a corrupt and hateful world. You feel strongly motivated to reach out and help "the least of these," but the sheer quantity of them is paralyzing.

War, crime, cruelty, hatred, selfishness, greed, wastefulness, irresponsibility -- all of these are failings of humanity and are to be expected because we are a fallen race. That doesn't mean we have to like them, or accept them, or even overcome them. One thing we can do is pray for humanity, pray that the light of God's love will drive out the darkness of the world. It's frustrating to realize that this change has to happen one soul at a time.

A culture of unforgiveness

Why can't we forgive in this country? And why, if we brag that this is such a great country, don't we believe in one of the things that set it apart: our justice system?

We live in an age of hatred, rage and unforgiveness, and I believe this attitude holds us back as a society and as a nation.

We're all human. We all make mistakes. We all screw up. We all hurt someone sometime. And a few of us commit crimes.

We have a system in this country wherein a person who commits a crime is tried in public by a presumably impartial jury; if the person is convicted, he or she receives punishment proportionate to the crime, according to law. When the sentence is completed, the convicted person can go on with his or her life.

But that doesn't seem to be good enough for an awful lot of people. At a gut level, they want more. They want blood. And they never, ever want someone who has committed a crime to stop suffering consequences for it.

Look at Michael Vick. I'm not a big fan of pro football, and I don't think athletes or celebrities deserve any special treatment. I also am an animal lover. I cry at those Sarah McLaughlin Humane Society commercials.

What Vick did was horrible and disgusting. Dogfighting is vile, ugly and inhumane. I believe it offends God.

But we have laws to deal with dogfighting, and Vick was tried and punished according to those laws. He admitted his guilt, he did his time, and he paid his debt to society -- a debt that society (that's you and me) determined.

So why doesn't that settle it? Why can't people accept a "Paid in Full" stamp on Vick's rap sheet? Why do they want him banned from the NFL, banned from society, banned from making a living for the rest of his life?

Why are the provisions of the law not good enough for people who are mad at someone for breaking the law? It's as if we agree to sell someone a car for $5,000, they pay the $5,000, and after they've driven off we tell everyone they stole the car from us. "No, what I meant was I wanted them to pay me $5,000 every day for the rest of their life."

Many, if not most, companies won't hire anyone with a felony record, even if that person has fulfilled all the court's requirements for punishment and compensation. A former boss of mine once cackled over a job application on which the applicant checked "Yes" in response to the question "Have you ever been convicted of a felony?" "This guy is too stupid to get a job," the boss told me. I guess he would have preferred for the applicant to lie.

Even when the offense doesn't rise to the level of lawbreaking, no response by the offender ever seems adequate for the offended.

Someone says something offensive or does something unethical and is called on it. The offender realizes his or her error and offers a sincere, specific, public apology. The person might also be fired or resign. "Not good enough!" the offended party cries.

What exactly do you want? You want the person who offended you to be totally abased, to be publicly humiliated, to lose everything he owns, to never have an opportunity to gain it back, and, ultimately, to die by stoning, followed by the body being burned in the public square. There. Satisfied?

Is that the American way? It certainly isn't Christ's way.

We all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. Those of us who have accepted Jesus as our savior have received eternal forgiveness for all our sins -- past present and future, no matter how heinous. By Christ's death on the cross, our debt is paid in full. How then can we who have been forgiven of so much be so unforgiving? How can we who enjoy such abundant grace offer no grace to our neighbors who are just like us?

Punishment has to fit the crime. Penalties have to have limits. At some point the creditor has to stamp the promissory note "Paid in Full." Refusal to do so places the unforgiving creditor in a position of superiority to God, a sin far greater than the original offense. How dare the forgiven not forgive?