Archive100Past Articles from 2004 until last year.  Many important lessons can be found in each of these articles.

 

I took a group of students to the Washington National Cathedral a few weeks ago. It was maybe the twentieth time I had taken a group for a tour. The ladies of the Cathedral Guild who conduct the tours are very good. Although each tour is a little different there are a few things they always highlight. The guide always shows you where President Woodrow Wilson and Helen Keller are buried. She always shows you the moon rock in the Space Window. She always shows you the Canterbury Pulpit. The Canterbury Pulpit was carved from stone taken from Canterbury Cathedral in England. Its carvings honor the men who were instrumental in producing English translations of the Bible. The pulpit sits in the crossing. A Cathedral is, of course, cruciform by design – for theological as well as aesthetic reasons. The point where the two lines of the cross intersect is the crossing, and here the pulpit sits. “In a protestant Cathedral, placing the pulpit in the crossing demonstrates our commitment to the preaching of the Word of God as central to the Christian experience,” the lady in the purple hat says.

 

I was told by another lady who was a small aircraft pilot that our church building is known as the “Manassas Cross.” We were in line at the grocery store and she knew from my conversation with the florist that I was the preacher here. She informed me that our cross shaped church atop Signal Hill was quite a landmark for small craft pilots. The fact that our church building takes a cruciform shape is neither theological, nor aesthetic, but functional.

Several years ago I observed the power of singing in a remote village in South India. Following my sermon several people responded to the Lord’s invitation to be baptized. It was the dry season so we had to walk for almost an hour before we came to a small lake where the baptisms were to be performed. During our long, hot, and dusty walk I observed that one elderly man sang to a young woman (about 35 years of age) almost continuously. I inquired from one of the local brethren why the old man had done this. The answer surprised me immensely! The old man was an Elder in the church. He had sung the Gospel story to the woman as we walked. As soon as the baptisms of those who had responded to my preaching were completed that young woman asked if she also could be baptized! The old Elder had accomplished through his singing what I had hoped to do in my preaching.

altWhat are you doing here? I Kings 19.9

What did you go out to see? Matthew 11.8

So the other day this woman calls the office and an icy finger drug it’s nail down my spine. She had that voice, that I’m-a-prosperous-mature-white-woman-used-to-getting-my-way voice, that Bea Aurthur (as “Maude”, not as a “Golden Girl”) voice - the voice of Julia Hawes. Mrs. Hawes was my sixth grade teacher, and she ruled with a strong arm and a thick paddle. When she paddled a kid she had the kind of serenity on her face that made you think she learned interrogation from the East Germans. Her rule was as capricious as it was quiet and severe.

 

So this lady called the office the other day with that voice and wanted to know if we had any pews. “Well yes,” I said “we are a church, we do have pews.” “Some of these new churches have folding chairs,” she said disapprovingly; then she added “I want to buy one.” When I told her we didn’t have any for sale, she wanted to know where she could buy one. I found a church furniture catalogue and gave her the phone number and website. When she realized that I was telling her about new pews she got angry.
 
“Listen, I don’t want a new pew! I want a nice old one that I can cut in half and fit into the corner of my breakfast nook. I’m taking the table out of my breakfast nook because I’m tired of it piling up. Where can I get an old pew?” I suggested she call some of the many local antique shops, and she said she refused to pay their prices. She wanted to know what we did with our old pews when we moved into our new building, and when I told her they transferred to the church that bought our old building she said, “Well call them and see if they’ll sell me an old pew, then call me right back, I have to go out in about 20 minutes.” “No Ma’am,I think you should call them,” I replied. “Well, give me their number,” she said, getting a little angrier. I told her their name, making sure she had spelled it correctly. I gave her their address, double checking that. Then I said “Ma’am, their number is in the phone book,” and Mrs. Hawes hung up on me.

altGive me the lowest place: or if for meThat lowest place too high, make one more lowWhere I may sit and seeMy God and love Thee so. Christina Rosett ¹O Lord, We come this morning Knee-bowed and both’ bent Before Thy throne of Grace.O Lord— this morning Bow our hearts beneath our kneesAnd our knees in some lonesome valley.James Weldon Johnson ²The foundational Christian virtue — the one that precedes repentance, compassion, thanksgiving, and patience is humility. James, Peter, and Paul (James 4.6-10, I Peter 5.6-7, and Philippians 2.1ff) all emphasize this virtue’s primacy. Humility typifies the attitude of Christ. Humility precedes God’s “lifting us up”. Jesus told the story of a publican who could not even lift his eyes toward heaven yet went away justified, and also told us to seek the lowest seats. Peter was called to be a fisher of men after he fell at Jesus’ feet and said “Lord get away from me I’m a sinful man.” (Luke 5.8)Humility is uniquely elusive among the virtues we seek to cultivate. Ben Franklin, in his autobiography, admits to acquiring all the virtues he sought except humility. He had to be satisfied with acquiring the “appearance” of it. We boisterous, successful Americans are more comfortable with Walt Whitman’s “barbaric yawp” than we are Emily Dickinson’s “I’m Nobody.” Even if we grasp its definition, humility is about as easy to hold on to as a snowflake. Screwtape advised Wormwood that he could corrupt his human by simply getting him to think about his own humility.How do we acquire it then?

Once acquired, how do we maintain it?I have not correctly framed our question.Humility is NOT acquired. It is affected. It is caused by presence.Why did Peter drop to his knees? Because he realized Christ’s presence. He knew whose gaze was upon him, and he felt as naked and ashamed as Adam in the garden. Those “Humble yourselves” passages cited above take place in the presence of the Lord, and by the mighty hand of God. Humility is not a matter of how; it is a matter of where. It is a result of coming face to face with the Divine, and of understanding our own smallness in comparison.Ironically then, the prerequisite to humility is boldness - not self-seeking pride — I mean the boldness to enter God’s presence (the pride-free zone) because we are invited there. We are bold, too, because we fully expect that presence to be effective (Hebrews 4.14-16). Humility, then, is an act of boldness, based upon grace. If that doesn’t boggle the mind, nothing will.¹ from Goblin Market arid Other Poems

² frorn God’s Trombones

Lord, take my hand and walk with me
along the wooded trail
and show me once again, Oh Lord,
your heart in great detail.

For Father, I’ve forgotten just who this is I see
that glares into my mirror
and longs to be set free.

Oh won’t you please crack open
this heart that once belonged
to a little girl who sang of love
and danced to her won song?

Just help me to look deep inside
for all the buried treasures
that you put there before the earth
for your glory and your pleasure.

Do mine own eyes deceive me,
or could that be her there
in the sway of towering pine trees
that stir the evening air?

And could that be her breath I feel
that strokes my furrowed brow?
Or is it laughter touching me?
I recognize it now!

Do I hear a sense of purpose
in the purr of feathered flight
that carries her to feed on grace
before the fall of night?

Is that her scent of fertile soil
from dried and deadened leaves
that seek to yield new blessings
to the flowers and the trees?

Oh, I can see her clearly now
in the playful romp of squirrels,
and the way they pause and ponder
like little boys and girls!

But look here at this Mockingbird
who croons her neighbor’s song,
because she has forgotten
to whom her voice belongs.

She toils in desperation
for favor from the forest
Oh, turn her eyes to Zion, Lord!
Let your voice be her chorus!

And there’s a busy chipmunk
who’s filled with foolish pride
who leaves her home unguarded,
inviting snakes inside.

Oh spare her, won’t you, Father?
And seal those open places
that leave her prey to gnashing fangs
disguised as smiling faces.

Now, yonder in the distance
lies a puddle still and calm
from rains of bitter teardrops
and blood and sweat of Psalms.

I hover in amazement
at the crystal clear reflection:
A Savior’s face in place of mine
who whispers…”Resurrection”.


-Karen Davis King
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