Presby-Musings

Like many of you, I have been watching the news emerging from Ukraine with a great deal of sadness and no small amount of fear.   Russian troops have invaded a sovereign country with the intent of toppling its government, expanding Russia's territory, and satisfying the mad designs of Vladimir Putin, a despotic leader who wants nothing more than more power.  As I scrolled through my social media feeds yesterday, I saw scores of friends posting prayers for the people of Ukraine, adorning their posts with the colors of the Ukrainian flag, and decrying the actions of Putin and his cronies.  Prayer is all that most of us can offer right now, and it is important that we do so fervently.  Interestingly,  there is a religious aspect to what Putin is attempting, and it cannot be ignored. Kyiv, in addition to being the capital of Ukraine, is also a holy city for Orthodox Christians.  This war is not merely about control of more territory, or an attempt to regain control of a country that wa

There is this story in the Hebrew Scriptures about the prophet Elijah encountering the unbelievable mystery of the presence of God, and it was not at all what he expected it to be.  Elijah had just had an incredible victory over the prophets of the Mesopotamian god Ba'al where he was able to call down fire from heaven as a display of Yahweh's power.   And then Jezebel, the Queen of Israel, vowed to have him hunted down and killed, so he fled into the wilderness, finally making his way all the way down to Mt. Sinai.  It's not a coincidence that Elijah traveled all the way to the holy mountain where Moses encountered God and received the Torah.  He figured that's where he would find God.  So Elijah climbs to the top of Mt. Sinai, finds a cave, and is sitting there waiting for God to show up, and there's a wind that is so strong that it shatters rocks, but the Scripture says, "The Lord was not in the wind."  Then there is an earthquake, and after the earthqua

  Things have changed for all of us since the beginning of the global pandemic that has now passed its two-year anniversary, and churches have been affected as much or more than most organizations.  And pastors, and church leaders along with them.   I have had more than a few conversations over the last several months that have left me feeling a bit defeated as a pastor, but I fully expected to have most of them, to be honest.  With all of the dramatic shifts that have occurred in our society and our communities of faith, I  knew there would be some hard conversations to follow.     But the conversations that have really gotten to me have centered around a desire by some to ignore the global pandemic that we've endured for the past two years---to just pretend that everything is fine, and to "just move on."  Listen, I am pretty tired of wearing masks.  I'm also tired of feeling anxious and scared.  I'm tired of a lot of things that have to do with this damnable pan

"So what do you do?" the earnest-looking fellow sitting next to me on the airplane asked me.   I'd unsuccessfully tried to put my Airpods into my ear at least three times, but he kept tapping my arm to ask me questions, and then engage in conversation.  By the time he asked me what I did for a living, he'd been talking nonstop about his travel travails, and how he really didn't like Austin, TX (where we were flying from) all that much because it was, according to him, "too woke."   "I'm a Presbyterian pastor," I replied, and then watched as he checked out my tattoos, and the Iron Maiden shirt I was wearing.    [Wait for it] "You don't look like any pastor I've ever seen," he said at last.    "Thank you," I told him.  He stared hard at me, and then delivered this missive: "Listen, I don't care what kind of church you pastor, as long as you preach the Gospel."  He paused, and then asked pointedly, &qu

Twenty-odd years ago, before I set off on a journey to seminary and then the pastorate, I was actually working on a Master's degree in Early Modern British history, with a minor field in Renaissance literature.  My goal was to get my PhD, and take up the torch from my major professor, Dr. Richard Greaves, who was one of the preeminent Early Modern British historians in the world.   Along the way, I took a part-time job as a director of youth ministries in a tiny church in Tallahassee, Florida, and soon discovered that church ministry made my heart sing, like nothing else could.   I came to realize that I was meant to be a pastor, not a historian.  That's an abridged version of the story I tell when people ask me about my journey to becoming a pastor.  What doesn't usually make it into the narrative is the hours of anguish I spent fighting against the call to leave my former life behind.  I kept thinking of the words of my professor who told me that in his entire 40-year car

Today we are closing out our study on the Apocalypse of John, otherwise known as the book of Revelation, otherwise known as the most mysterious and confusing book of the entire Bible.  What I've hoped to accomplish with this series was to take away the fear that most of us have about reading Revelation, and to also explore the first-century context within which it was written---realizing that it was not a book of codes, but a clearly understood, albeit imaginative narrative.   I  wanted us to see that John the Revelator wrote this letter with the intention of encouraging the members of the seven Christian churches he addressed it to--encouraging them to remain strong in their faith and resist assimilation into the Roman culture around them.  I hope that this has been an interesting and thought-provoking journey, and today we'll finally bring it to a close as we see how the story ends, we are invited to imagine what the world looks like when God gets what God wants…  How do most

I once read a troubling quote from philosopher Alan Watt that made me lose an entire afternoon to pondering pretty much everything I'd thought about faith.   Sadly, this is how my brain works.  I may appear to most people like I'm functioning as a normal adult, but inside my head, there are all kinds of weird things happening, pretty much all of the time.   This I why I'm often grateful for a break or two watching Tik Tok videos because they do not require sentient thought in order to view them.  There, I said it.  It needed to be said.  So here's the quote that messed me up so much, and actually got me journaling a bit on the side---an entry that has never really seen the light of day until now.   If we cling to belief in God, we cannot likewise have faith, since faith is not clinging but letting go. - Alan Watt What came out of that frantic reflecting/journaling session was something unexpected.  I realized that throughout most of my life (except for a seven-year peri

G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936) has always been one of my favorite British theologians---although he would have undoubtedly resisted the idea that he was primarily concerned with theology.   Chesterton was a prolific writer, who wrote widely on a variety of subjects in addition to theology, including literary criticism, art, and politics.  He created the popular "Father Brown" mystery series of novels, appeared on BBC radio as a regular, featured lecturer, and much more.  I'll list an essential bibliography at the close of this Devo, but for now, I'd like to focus on a rather long quote from an essay of Chesterton's that I recently read while doing research for the Revelation sermon series I've been preaching.  It's rather long, so I'll split it up a bit.  In this essay of reflections on a trip to America, Chesterton writes:   “The devil can quote Scripture for his purpose; and the text of Scripture which he now most commonly quotes is, “The Kingdom of hea

When I was driving home from the office today, I saw a young man standing on the sidewalk, holding his skateboard.  This in and of itself is not a remarkable thing to see in my Southwest Austin suburb, to be fair.   But what struck me as I rode slowly past the young man with the skateboard was that he was obviously jamming to music on his headphones, and he was using his skateboard to play air guitar.   The young man suddenly noticed that I was taking in his efforts as I rolled by him, and he thought for a split second about stopping, but thankfully he didn't.   Instead, he merely paused, and then twisted his mouth in a pure rock-n-roll grimace, and windmilled his skateboard like Pete Townsend (the guitarist from The Who) windmills his Fender Stratocaster.  It was amazing and beautiful all at once.   In fact, when I got home, I decided to write a haiku  to commemorate what I'd seen.  Sometimes a haiku is everything---if you know what I mean.  Also, sometimes I don't have a

I've met some pretty sour Christians in my life---people who claim to love Jesus and to have the "joy, joy, joy, joy down in their heart," but who suck the joy out of their own life, and everything else's as well.   You know the type, the ones who look like they have lost all ability to smile in any circumstance other than to gloat over the demise of their enemies.   The ones who post all kinds of awful, hateful stuff on their social media pages along with a few Bible verse memes super-imposed over photos of mountains or sunsets or a daisy poking its way through a crack in the sidewalk.   If this sounds to you like it's being drawn from specific instances from my own memories---you'd be right.  But what I have to admit here is that I am also frequently one of those sour Christians.  I'm ashamed to say it, but there it is.  The truth of the matter is that all of us who claim to be Christian are pretty sour, too,  from time to time.   It starts when we allow

There was this one thing that I was praying for a couple of years ago---a prayer for something I longed would come to pass, and I kept at it, in spite of the ominous silence I got as a response.  That ominous silence persisted no matter what entreaties I made to God, and in spite of all of the different ways I prayed.  I bargained.  I plead. I even broke down and cried at times. Nothing.  I remember journaling about my experience and one of the many questions that came to mind was simply this: "Am I somehow doing this wrong?" And then another question followed that one: "Honestly, what good is any of this, really ?"   At this point, you might be asking yourself, "How can a pastor ask those kinds of questions?"   To which I would reply, "Pastors are precisely the kind of people who should  be asking those questions."   For my part, I've been asking those kinds of questions for a very long time, wrestling with the answers, pondering the unknown

Today we are continuing the sermon series that we started several weeks ago entitled Signs of the Times--Rediscovering Revelation.  And yes, we have been studying one of the most misunderstood, misinterpreted, and mysterious books of the Bible, the book of Revelation, otherwise known as the Apocalypse of John.  Interestingly, the word Apocalypse  comes from the Greek word Apokalypsis which means "to be revealed."  Revelation is full of word pictures, fantastic images, visions of cosmic battles between good and evil, and so much more... but it is not a prophetic book.  It's not a book of codes that need to be cracked in order to figure out what God is up to and when.  Revelation is a mystery to be experienced, and it is filled with spiritual lessons, visions of hope, and a not-so-veiled political statement about the problems of the Empire. John the Revelator wanted his readers to find the courage to resist assimilation into Roman culture, and also to provide hope for those

Yesterday, I had a moment of profound sadness that wasn't directly connected to anything in particular---just a feeling that came over me that was accompanied by deep emotions and a rush of mental images.  I found myself grieving all my losses at once, and was filled with a longing that I couldn't describe, even to myself.  It didn't help that I'd been listening to a bunch of sad, haunting music all morning, or that the sun was shining in a certain way on the trees and flower beds in my back yard, or that I saw a cardinal on my birdfeeder...   Any one of those things could have triggered me all by their lonesome, but altogether it was kind of overwhelming and awesome all at the same time.  I decided not to fight it, (which has never really gotten me anywhere, anyway) so I just let it all in.  Sadness is often a part of my life, but I am trying to learn from it, rather than be overcome by it.  Some days that's easier said than done, but I feel like I'm finding my

I was listening to one of my many morning playlists the other day, and I heard a song that resonated with me so much so that I listened to it another three times.  If you are wondering what a "morning" playlist sounds like for me, think mellow... like acoustic, singer/songwriter, instrumental kind of mellow.  I save the hard rock for later in the day, or when I'm writing sermons.   The song I was referring to is "If You Call," which is by Australian singer/songwriter, Angie McMahon, and the stanza in question goes something like this:  I'm putting down the habit... The habit of looking back on all of it and wishing I had done better. Oh, I just wanna feel it,  Feel that I like who I'm becoming... Feel it all in the quiet. I know the sun don't rise and set above me,  I don't want you to compromise a lot to love me,  But if you call I'll turn on the light for you. If you call I'm gonna be bright for you If you call… There's so much goin