Sunday School: You Are What You Love Week 3

Below is the third discussion in our series on Smith's book "You are What You Love". We considered the necessity of Christian Worship presenting an alternate story and a re-formative liturgy by contrasting it against the liturgies of social media like Facebook. I referenced an excellent article titled "Face-to-face Discipleship in a Facebook World." I read the article in Modern Reformation magazine but it is available online here. I would also commend the recent White Horse Inn broadcast series "Finding Yourself in God's Story" as a very helpful companion piece to the things we have been discussing in this class. You can find it here. I look forward to getting into more of Chapter 3 this coming Sunday.

-SFE

The Necessity of Habitual Celebration

(Matthew 3:16–17) And when Jesus was baptized, immediately he went up from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming to rest on him; and behold, a voice from heaven said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

This is one of the clearest passages regarding the triune nature of the God of the Bible. He is one God, in three persons, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

A few weeks ago I had the sad duty of attending a meeting where I had to explain to some good-hearted, well-intentioned Christians that Unitarians are not Christians. Unitarians believe that God is one God and one person, and cannot therefore be considered our “brothers and sisters” in the faith.

Sunday School: You Are What You Love Week 2

This is the second in our Sunday school series "You Are What You Love" by James K A Smith. Included here is a link to download the handout that went with the discussion.

A Family Affiar

Our special service this past Sunday, taking time in our liturgy to celebrate the life of our children through the prayers of their fathers, was moving to be a part of. In our culture of death and destruction, of individualism and autonomy, hearing the patriarchs of our families praise God for the blessing of their children reinforced and encouraged me as God used the prayers of his saints as a means of grace to this needy pilgrim. It brought to mind the picture of the church scripture provides as an extension of our family. It made me grateful to be a part of a communion that recognizes the value of life, the importance of family and the need to unite, in face to face discipleship in the gathered communal worship of God as a family. I was reminded of a letter posted to a new mom and dad from the author of the book we are working through in Sunday school. I am reposting it here because much of what he says will be good to remind ourselves of and will buttress us in our faith as we seek to encourage one another to raise our children in the fear and admonition of the Lord, training them up in the way they should go. (The original post can be found here) -SFE

Dear Grace and Alex,

Congratulations! Thanks be to God for the safe arrival of what sounds like a packed little bundle of hope: my goodness, 10 lbs., 6 oz.! It must be the milk there in Wisconsin.

Well, on behalf of the rest of us exhausted, grateful, and terrified inhabitants, let me welcome you to a strange new world: parenthood. This is going to be the hardest thing you've ever done, and it's worth every bit of the blood, sweat, and tears that are to come. You can't imagine that now. I understand. Soak up every ounce of joy and elation and starry-eyed wonder at the miracle of baby Liam. I'll be watching as the terror sets in. It's usually when you're headed out the hospital door and it hits you: "They're actually letting me take this little creature home? But I don't know what the hell I'm doing!" Yeah, get used to that.

But also remember this: in a few weeks, you're going to bring Liam forward for baptism. In that sacramental act, he is going to be tangibly marked with the sign of God's promises. That should be a first reminder that you're not in this alone—that Liam is being claimed by a promise-keeping Father who is even more faithful than you. There will be days and seasons when that will be an unspeakable comfort to you.

In the sacrament of baptism, not only will you claim God's promises, you'll be confessing that you alone are not able to raise Liam. The baptismal ceremony is, I think, a wonderful gift to parents who rightly approach their task with fear and trembling. For while you, in response to God's promise, will make promises to God about how you will raise Liam, the congregation will also make a promise—to come alongside you, to support you and nourish you, to sustain you all within the household of God that is bigger than the three of you. So baptism is a sign that our homes are open, interdependent households, not closed, nuclear units. Baptism signals that all of us—married or single, parent or child—are part of a larger household which is the church of God, and together, that household has pledged to be one big community of godparents. When you run up against the challenges of parenting, don't be scared to remind the church of the promise it made to you.

I hope and pray that your labour as parents can be buoyed by these promises and this sense that your tiny, growing family will flourish just to the extent that you centre yourselves in the "first family," which is the church. You will need this, believe me. One of the terrible lies of our culture—and even the rhetoric of "family values"—is the crippling myth that our homes are self-sufficient incubators for child-rearing. If you buy into that myth, you'll be isolated by a constant sense of failure. For it won't take long to realize that you are not able to do this on your own, even though you're an intertwined team. If you've bought into the myth of the self-sufficient family, you also won't be willing to admit that you need help. Baptism is the church's way of signaling right from the get-go that we know you need help! We know you can't do this on your own. So we're not going to be surprised or disappointed or judgmental when you lean on us. We'll be there waiting. Why not get into the habit early?

Finally, while I don't mean to rain on the parade of your joy, I do feel compelled to share the bad news, too: Liam might break your heart. Actually, Liam is going to break your heart. Somehow. Somewhere. Maybe more than once. To become a parent is to promise you'll love prodigals. Indeed, some days parenting is exactly how God is going to teach you to love your enemies. Because there'll be days when a 17-year-old Liam is going to see you as the enemy, and all of a sudden you'll realize that the Sermon on the Mount is not about war and foreign policy, nor is it just pie-in-the-sky piety: instead, you'll hear those words anew and realize that in the command to love your enemies, Jesus is calling you to follow him as a parent, and sometimes even that task will look cruciform. It will require absorbing all Liam's misplaced animosity, all his confused attempts to figure out who (and whose) he is. At those moments, Jesus' call to lay down your life and take up the cross will have a mundane tangibility you could have never imagined. Some days, loving Liam is going to require you to turn the other cheek and absorb that heartbreak like a slap across the face. And it's then that you'll most want to remember the promises of a faithful Father that trickled down his little forehead years ago.

But those painful moments will be overshadowed by a million others. You're going to think it's incredible when Liam smiles, or says "Mama," or rolls over on his tummy, but let me tell you, that won't even compare to the afternoon when, in what feels like an out-of-body experience, you realize you're having a conversation with this man—you might be sitting on the front porch talking about Mumford & Sons or Andy Warhol or World War II artillery, and for a moment you can hardly believe that the little bundle you brought home from the hospital has grown into this beautiful, mystifying, wonderful young man. And you realize that, in your son, God has given you one of your best friends in the whole world, and you try to suppress your smile while thinking to yourself, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

It's all worth it,

Jamie 

Letter to Mom

Dear Mom,

Let me live. Let me grow.

Let me feel the rain and snow.

Let me give you love and laughter

that will bring you joy hereafter.

Remember a goodly half of me is you.

Did I come to your womb to die?

Was I formed for me to lie

in a cold and metal dish?

Or was I formed to grant a wish

to couples who daily pray

who would love to have me stay?

Let me live the dance of life.

Let my spirit light your way.

Let me see the dawn of day.

Let the two of us make you memories

that resound through centuries.

May I feel your soft caress?

Join with me in happiness

Grant me life to play hide-and-seek

Let me nurse teat to cheek.

And may I snuggle next to your warm belly

to feast with you on toast and jelly?

When your life is spent

my life will be your testament

to the God of the hereafter who loves a child's laughter,

to the God who rewards a cup of cold water

who will greatly reward the one,

who saves me from slaughter.

I have a place in your belly.

Give me a place in your heart

so the twin demons of guilt and shame

will never tear you apart.

Be my Mother.

Love, Your Baby

Sunday School: You Are What You Love Week 1

This is the first in our Sunday School series from James K.A. Smith's book "You Are What You Love"

Included here is a link to download the handout that went with the discussion.

-SFE

What was your Christmas Liturgy?

Now that Christmas day has come and gone and the new year is underway, in the midst of looking forward with our aspirations and resolutions lets take a moment to look back. The Christmas season is a time of year that is particularly suited to traditions, rituals and liturgies. Lights adorn our houses, trees are chopped and decorated, aromas of Christmas spices billow from the cookies in the oven, carols blast on the radio, familiar stories are told and retold accompanied by Christmas “hymns”. I must admit, I rather enjoy all the trappings of Christmas time. It was a pretty big deal growing up. We looked forward to doing the same thing every year. Driving to Granddaddy and Grandmothers house to spend the night on Christmas Eve; Christmas dinner with ambrosia for dessert; presents in the evening; stockings on Christmas morning. My Grandmother put up and decorated a tree in every room of the house. I remember the train that went around the main tree in the living room. I would watch it for hours and play with the different ornaments on the tree. There were ballerinas that would twirl on their own, snow globes that were always snowing and of course the Star Trek shuttle craft. When you pressed the button on the bottom it would light up and say, "Shuttle craft to to enterprise, shuttle craft to enterprise. Spock here. Happy holidays. Live long, and prosper."