chappelltemple

They’re officially over on Monday, at least according to one calendar. Other sources will suggest that they ended this past week, while those who put together the fabled King James Version of the Bible in 1611 suggested that the forty-day period will not conclude until September 5. But of course the calendars of ancient Rome and England knew nothing at all about our climate here in Houston, where some will say that they last until at least November in this part of the world.

However you may reckon them, the fabled “Dog Days” of summer have long been a part of most people’s lives. What few folks may realize, however, is that the expression developed not so much as a comment on hot and sultry days which are “not fit for a dog” as it refers to the annual celestial event when the so-called “Dog Star” Sirius–the brightest star in the sky– rises each morning in conjunction with the sun.

That astrological phenomenon, of course, has nothing at all to actually do with our heat, nor is it the actual reason that this period of the year has the least amount of rainfall in the Northern Hemisphere. But it is enough to remind us that as God created the heavens and the earth, He did so with an intentionality that should suggest that our lives were made for seasons, too.

Or as the hymn writer of old once put it:

“Summer and winter and springtime and harvest;                                                                 sun, moon and stars in their courses above,                                                                               join with all nature in manifold witness                                                                                          to thy great faithfulness, mercy and love!”

As we begin another new school year, here’s hoping that not even the dog days of summer—whenever they are finally over– will be able to drag us down.

Those who follow such things will tell you that in many parts of the wider church May 31 will be celebrated as “Trinity Sunday.” For after remembering the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost last week, it’s only appropriate to shift our focus to just how the triune nature of God actually works. The only problem, of course, is that nobody can actually tell you that!

In the first four centuries of the church, for instance, much effort was spent to try to define the “internal Eternal” relationships more clearly.  Some, following Arius and others, argued that Jesus was something more than man, but less than God. On the other hand, Athanasius, perhaps the most skilled thinker of the fourth century, countered that it’s only if Christ is God that we can actually have contact with God in Him. And so he declared that “in the Unity of this Godhead there are three Persons, of one substance, power, and eternity — the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

In the end, Athanasius and his substance (ousia) distinction prevailed.  But I have a feeling that most of us would probably still be more like the young boy in Sunday School who was asked by a visiting bishop once to define the Trinity.  The lad had both a heavy tongue and noticeable accent, so he said simply, “Fahthuh, Thun, and Holey Spirith.”  And when the bishop replied that he couldn’t understand him, the boy quickly answered, “You’re not supposed to–it’s a mystery!”

Hopefully what will be sufficient today is simply to know that in the person of Christ we can by faith see the heart of the Father, and in the presence of the Holy Spirit we can yet experience the power of God in our lives. For just as the Father sent Jesus, so the Master once told us, so He sends us into the world today with the promised Paraclete right at our sides, so that we may be one with Him just as He is eternally one with the Father and one with the Holy Spirit.

And that’s indeed worth celebrating.

Even if it is a mystery.

The name itself comes from the Greek word meaning “fiftieth,” for in the agricultural calendar of the Hebrews it was seven weeks after Passover that the “Feast of Weeks” was observed, marking the end of the barley harvest and the beginning of the wheat harvest.  Deuteronomy 16 tells us that it was likewise one of three occasions each year on which male Israelites were supposed to show up and actually “rejoice before the Lord,” with many making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to do just that.

All of which may explain why so many folks were in the Temple courts that day when the Holy Spirit fell upon them and forever changed their lives and faith.  For Acts 2 tells us that when the day of Pentecost came, “God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven” were “all together in one place.”  And yet, in a truly miraculous fashion, everyone heard the wonders of God declared in their own tongue.

From the very beginning, thus, Pentecost has always been about the eternal unity of God’s purposes expressed in the midst of the equally incredible diversity of God’s people.  It’s no wonder therefore that early on, many came to see Pentecost as the birthday of the church, for it was on this day that God brought His people together and empowered them for the tasks ahead, that of readying and reaping a great harvest for heaven!

May the Spirit fall once more today upon all who are likewise “together in one place,” if not physically at least so joined in hearts and minds.  Happy Birthday, Church, indeed!

If Webster is right, then the proposal announced this week by the Connectional Table of The United Methodist Church, a group of fifty or so folks charged with shepherding the vision of our denomination, is not really the compromise that they are advertising that it is.  For the dictionary definition of that term suggests a “middle state between conflicting opinions that is reached by each side making concessions.”  It is difficult to see, however, how the present proposal altering our church’s stance on same-sex issues actually accomplishes that goal at all.  For in suggesting what is essentially the same local option put forth by Adam Hamilton in his “Third Way” notion, the Connectional Table has not truly conceded anything to those who hold to evangelical or even simply orthodox convictions.

True, the proposal will not require any individual pastor to perform same-sex marriage ceremonies or mandate any annual conference to ordain openly gay or lesbian clergy.  But in allowing those decisions to be made on the local level it will cause those who may find themselves morally or theologically opposed to the ideas to have to accept them within the inconsistent broader church of which they are yet a part.  And likewise, as even one of the proponents of the revisionist position has suggested, it still leaves our gay and lesbian members in many places subject to a position which they find quite personally hurtful.

To pull a biblical analogy from 1 Kings 3, thus, what the Connectional Table resolution–as well as Hamilton’s “Third Way” idea–both propose is actually to “cut the baby in half” in order to save it, i.e., let one half of the church believe one truth, and the other half another.  It should be obvious, however, that such a solution will eventually result in the death of that child, or in our case at least, the ultimate demise of any chance for the United Methodist Church to actually remain “united.”

It is for that reason that I have authored a resolution coming before the Texas Annual Conference and other regional bodies that represents a true compromise indeed.  For recognizing that the philosophical basis of our current position rests in the Social Principles statement on human sexuality, the resolution scraps the current language in Paragraph 161F in favor of a new and more gracious rewrite.  It begins by acknowledging that human sexuality “by the design of God” is a gift intended to bless all those who are created in the image of God.   That gift is one that requires “careful stewardship and exercise,” however.  And then it suggests that “in our historic understanding of the scriptures, sexual relations are to be affirmed only when practiced within the legal and spiritual covenant of a loving and monogamous marriage between one man and one woman.”

Admittedly, progressives will want to alter that definition of marriage, though those on the traditional side will counter that we do not have the “legal standing” so to speak (as marriage was God’s idea, not ours) to do so.  And pragmatically, it is fairly clear that without that traditional definition affirmed the rewrite will not pass in a General Conference which may be leery of conceding the current language.

But what the proposal does do in return is to eliminate any specific reference to homosexual individuals, removing them as the subject of the church’s disapprobation.  Instead, the rewrite acknowledges that God’s gift of human sexuality has been twisted in any number of ways, all of which are equally problematic for those who would follow Christ. To quote the resolution itself at this point:

“We reject all expressions of sexual behavior that do not recognize the sacred worth of each individual, or that seek to exploit, abuse, objectify, or degrade others, particularly any who may be unable to defend themselves.  We similarly grieve at the destructive impact of promiscuity, infidelity, bigamy, multiple or serial marriages, pornography, human trafficking, and all attempts to commercialize the gift of human sexuality within our societies.” 

The proposal then ends with an affirmation that God’s grace is available to all and a commitment to be in ministry for and with all persons, along with an exhortation to those within our families and churches not to reject or condemn any individuals based upon their gender, sexual identity or orientation.

In short, the resolution is a genuine compromise that has the potential to actually move us out of the conversational cul-de-sac in which we have been circling for decades and into a new and more gracious expression.  It recognizes the historic stance of our church while acknowledging that people of faith elsewhere may hold other views.  It replaces the current language of “incompatibility” with a call towards holy living by all.  And it does not single out one segment of the church while failing to reflect the broader issues around human sexuality that may affect us all.

I would never suggest, of course, that this resolution is truly Solomonic in its wisdom.  But on the other hand, its adoption at least gives the baby a chance of survival, something which the other proposals would not seem to do.

Some would say it’s the sound of spring, the low but ubiquitous roar that rises up from city parks and sandlots all across the land. For along with the crisp crack of the bats–or the sad swish of a strikeout–from the bleachers and sidelines you can hear it fill the day or evening skies, no matter how a particular pint-sized player may actually be performing or not.

“Good eye!” they will tell him, parental code for “At least you were looking at the pitcher this time.”

“Way to get a piece of it!” they will empathize if the bat comes even close to actually making contact with the ball, however accidentally.

“You can do it,” they will cheer, while quietly praying that nothing really is impossible with the Lord.

For if there is one job that parents and grandparents have at a Little League contest–aside from bringing snacks and buying the siblings snow cones, of course–it is to encourage their kids and root them on, whether the game they are playing actually resembles America’s perennial pastime or not.

But then that is really the responsibility of all of us anyway, I suspect. For just as Barnabas was known in the early church as the “son of encouragement,” offering up words of hope and healing to others truly is the task of all who would call Jesus Lord in this life.

Maybe that’s why, in fact, some believe that the unnamed writer of the Book of Hebrews was Barnabas himself. For whoever penned that epistle suggested that we should “encourage one another day by day” and then he went on to admonish us to consider just how we may “spur one another on toward love and good deeds.”

There are always a few folks on the sidelines with a different demeanor, of course, those obnoxious and annoying parents who yell at both the players and their coaches, making you wonder what on earth happened in their childhoods that they are still trying to work out decades later.

But on the whole, the bleacher brigade usually gets it, yelling their positive affirmations to every child who steps up to the plate, whether it is their own proud progeny, or even a kid from the other team. And that is when baseball becomes more sacrament than sport, at least in my mind.

Proverbs 12.25 is right: “anxiety in a person’s heart weighs us down, but a good word makes us glad.” And indeed, whether we strike out or hit a homer, who among us couldn’t stand to hear at least a few more cheers from the sidelines of life?

It was another one of those festivals for which the ancient Romans were so famous…sort of like a New Orleans Mardi Gras and a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade all rolled into one. The Lupercalia ceremony itself was a fairly peculiar one, however.

For after choosing two young boys from among all those of noble birth, their foreheads were touched with blood and then wiped off with sheep’s wool that had been dipped in milk. The two young fellows were then supposed to throw their heads back and laugh, running all through the streets of Rome and lashing about them with thongs made from goatskin.

What made it even more exciting, however, was that young Roman girls would crowd the streets and–like bridesmaids going for the bouquet–jostle and shove in order to make at least a passing physical contact with the runners. For just a lash of those special thongs was thought to make them better able to bear children one day.

Of course, no one ever said that ancient Romans had a clear understanding of biology, but in a society which likewise little understood the true value and equality of women, increasing the odds of one’s fertility was a definite plus.

What brings it all to mind, however, is simply the fact that the goatskin thongs were called februa, and the act of flinging them about, the februatio. And at the base of both words–from which the name of the current month long ago also came–was a Latin word which meant simply “to purify.”

At least once a year, thus, even those ancient Roman pagans must have intuitively felt a need to somehow “purify” themselves and make their lives ready for the annual time of new birth that the coming of the spring symbolized.

All of which is perhaps why when the Christian Church centuries later recognized the need for such a season of penitence and preparation within the life of its own members that they settled upon the idea of Lent, taking the term itself from the Anglo-Saxon word lenctin which referred to the lengthening of days each spring.

They likewise determined to begin that period during February, that “month of purification,” and to mark its start with the imposition of ashes, a traditional symbol of inner repentance as noted in such Old Testament passages as Job 42, 2 Samuel 13, Esther 4, and Isaiah 61, just to name a few.

Of course, many believers today will never have even thought of observing Lent, particularly if they grew up Protestant and assumed the whole idea was something only Catholics did, not realizing that the idea actually predates the Catholic-Protestant division within Christianity by almost a thousand years.

And likewise, the whole notion of “giving up” something for the season may seem as silly to some as running through the streets of Rome flailing goat-thongs about your head. (As a child, in fact, I once tried to give up Sunday School for Lent, until my mother exercised her spiritual veto, cleverly pointing out to me that Sundays are not technically a part of the forty days of Lent at all.)

Still, whether you choose to fast or similarly to deny yourself a special treat for the coming season, I have a feeling that each of us could benefit from intentionally taking some time to re-examine our own spiritual lives and see what kind of “purifying” we might like the Lord to do in us as well.

The annual cycle all begins again this week on Ash Wednesday, February 18. If you see folks walking about that day with the slightest trace of an ashen cross on their foreheads, thus, it’s not because they just didn’t wash well or misapplied their makeup. And though we can be confident that there is no magic in touching them, it might not be a bad idea to hang around them.

For when all is said and done, wouldn’t you really rather be among those who are at least trying to get their act together and live for the Lord, than be counted with those who have decided to make no pretense at all about it, and only want to serve themselves?

It was the legendary coach of the University of Texas Longhorns Darrell Royal who once observed that “three things can happen when you throw a football… and two of them are bad.”  And I suspect that Pete Carroll, the coach of the Seattle Seahawks, may have remembered that saying just about the same time that his quarterback quite literally “threw away” the Super Bowl to the New England Patriots on Sunday in the last thirty seconds, trading an unexpected interception for the half yard of ground that would have won the game.

But then I likewise suspect that Coach Carroll is not alone.  For every day, we all make decisions that turn out to have been–with the benefit of hindsight–if not completely wrong, still, not exactly right either.  Sometimes it’s as simple as turning the wrong way or missing an exit, and finding ourselves on a longer detour than we might ever have imagined.  Or alternately, we may make a wrong choice in life, buying the wrong product or passing up on an opportunity that later on turns out to have been a great one.  (Investing $20,000 into Cisco stock in 1990, for instance, would have made you $60 million just ten years later!)

At other times, however, it may be as serious as stepping over a moral or legal line in life, thinking we can slip back across it before the consequences catch up to us… only not quite making it before they do so.

It’s no wonder, thus, that the Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier hit upon a notion with which we can all identify perhaps when more than a century and a half ago he wrote, “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been.”

Fortunately, even if you can’t always play a football game over again, there is always the possibility of redemption in the Christian life if we have followed our hunch but found ourselves at a dead end.  For speaking on behalf of the Lord, it was the prophet Isaiah who told us that our Maker can blot out our transgressions like a cloud and our sins like a mist (Isaiah 44.22).  And still later, the apostle Peter—a practiced advocate of the “blunder forward first and back up later” approach to life– assured us that we can indeed be ransomed “from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers.” (1 Peter 1.18)

Of course, some will insist on simply repeating their mistakes, living out a real-life version of the winsome film named for February 2, “Groundhog Day.”  But I’d rather like to think that no one is inherently forced to do so.  All we need is a biddable spirit which is not only open to the Lord’s correction, but is eager to discover the right pathway indeed.

I have a feeling that in Phoenix yesterday, that pathway was probably to run straight ahead into the end zone which lay only inches away.  Fortunately, however, as a lifelong SMU and Astros fan, I learned long ago that there’s always next year.

His gifts for oratory were so strong that people are said to have wept just hearing him pronounce the word “Mesopotamia.” For among his contemporaries, no one came even close to being as good in the pulpit as he did, with one pastor calling him “the prince of preachers and the least imperfect character I ever knew.”

Likewise, despite the fact that most will customarily think of John Wesley as the founder of our church, the first real Prime Minister of England, Robert Walpole, considered another figure instead to be the actual “Patriarch of the Methodists.” Even Mr. Wesley himself accorded him pre-eminence when it came to winning others to Christ, asking, “Have we read or heard of any person who called so many thousands, so many myriads of sinners to repentance?”

What’s more, when he made his second trip to America in 1740, he began a series of revivals along the Eastern Seaboard that came to be known as The Great Awakening in this country, too. It was in Philadelphia, in fact, that he first met Benjamin Franklin who was intrigued by his ability to speak to enormous crowds all at once and still be understood. Franklin went so far as to scientifically calculate the area around which his voice could carry, determining that he could actually be heard by over 30,000 persons in the open air at once–all without the benefit (or distraction) of audio-visual volunteers.

The famous Founding Father was so struck by the power of the man’s preaching, however, that he soon learned to leave his wallet at home whenever he went to hear him. For inevitably his sermons wove their way into his otherwise thrifty disposition, resulting in the inexplicable emptying of all of his pockets, followed by Franklin even asking friends nearby to loan him some funds so that he could give more.

It’s no real wonder, thus, that the figure who could preach such sermons became one of the first celebrities in this country, despite his small stature and cross-eyed appearance. For in addition to delivering some 18,000 messages on both sides of the Atlantic–which he crossed 13 times, by the way–George Whitefield also founded an orphanage in Bethesda, Georgia, which is even today the oldest extant charity on the continent.

To be sure, when it came to certain theological positions, Whitefield differed from his long-time friends from Oxford, John and Charles Wesley, preferring Calvinism over the Arminian views of his former “Holy Club” colleagues. Likewise, though Whitefield was the stronger preacher, it was John Wesley’s methodical organizational skills that made the Methodist movement so enduring and clearly made it into a force to “spread scriptural holiness all across the land.”

It’s worth noting, however, that when Whitefield died in America and his will was opened in London, the last item in it was a ring which he left to his dear friends the Wesleys in token of “the indissoluble union with them in heart and Christian affection, notwithstanding our difference in judgment about some particular points of doctrine.” Unsurprisingly thus, when a memorial service for Whitefield was held in London in 1770, by his own request, it was John Wesley who preached it.

And in a day of depressingly disputatious discourse and “winner-take-all” wrestling matches within the church and the culture over its polity and policies, there is perhaps a lesson worth learning from the relationship that the leaders of different ends of the early Methodist movement were able to maintain.

We even have Whitefield to thank for changing the opening words of a hymn that Charles Wesley wrote in1739, one you will no doubt hear in the days ahead, “Hark, How All the Welkin Rings” to the more familiar imagery, “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.” For clearly that spiritual grandfather of all evangelists knew how to speak so that people could understand what he was saying.

The calendar has changed since then, but George Whitefield was born 300 years ago this week. Though few will probably remember his birthday, however, maybe we can at least remember the message that he fervently offered at the end of many of his sermons: “Come, poor, lost, undone sinner–come just as you are to Christ.”

No wonder all the welkin went wild.