Lest We Forget...

As I drove home from church today, I was filled with mixed emotions. On one hand, I was filled with joy and excitement after having (nervously) served communion for the first time. On the other hand, I was deeply saddened ad frustrated by some of the mess we do, claiming to be done in the name of Jesus. Let me give you some background:

Last week, as if I had nothing better to do, I spent part of Monday morning looking at foolish videos on YouTube. I blame one of friends from Drew. His Facebook status read, "Fast forward to 1:50. This is how I'm going to dance if the Knicks get Carmelo Anthony" and had a link to a video titled, "Foolishness in Church." So, I clicked on the link, and instead of fast forwarding as instructed, I watched the whole thing. I'll spare you the whole video, not because I want to rain on your parade, but more because I don't think foolishness like this needs to get any more page hits (page hits=popularity in the virtual world). I did not laugh. All I could do was shake my head.

There was something about this video that troubled me. Let me be the first to say that although I do not attend a pentecostal/apostolic church, we at Bethesda are no strangers to the move of the Holy Spirit in worship. In the words of the song we sang today in worship, we don't mind giving God the praise. Trust and believe that, while we may lift holy hands, shout, and even cut a step, the Holy Spirit moves in decency and order. Our praise will always give God glory. My spirit was disquieted within me when I viewed this video. This morning, after serving communion, I recognized why.

If you look at the image above, taken from the foolish video, you'll notice a young man dancing on a table. Look closely. He isn't dancing on just any table. He is dancing on the Communion table. The table that house the elements of bread and wine, symbols of Christ's broken body and shed blood, is being trampled upon. To make matters worse, the juxtaposition of this man profaning the sacred table with the words on the table, "this do, in remembrance of me" cause me to wonder if we are truly remembering Jesus' awesome sacrifice, or if we are simply playing church.

And then I thought about this morning. I thought about the anticipation that hung heavy in the air of the sanctuary. I think about the Apostle Paul's words found in 1 Corinthians 11:23-26: For I received from the Lord that which I also delivered to you: that the Lord Jesus on thesame night in which He was betrayed took bread; and when He had given thanks, He broke itand said, “Take, eat; this is My body which is broken for you; do this in remembrance of Me.” In the same manner He also took the cup after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood. This do, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death till He comes.

I thought about our reaffirmation of our church covenant—our covenant with God and each other. I thought about how we partake of the elements so that we never forget what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. I thought about Jesus on the cross in my/our place. I thought about His bruised and bloodied body bearing the weight of my/our sin. I thought about my/our sin and how it was forgiven at Calvary. I thought about how we wait for everyone to be served and eat together as a witness of what we believe and a symbol of the unity of the body. We eat the bread in remembrance of Him. We drink the fruit of the cup in remembrance of Him. It is a solemn, yet beautiful moment. I felt honored and privileged to be able to preside over the table, to help usher people into a space of remembrance. And I know that the foolishness in this world, and even in some of our churches, can never cause me to forget...

More Than Anything...

Yesterday was one of the most beautiful days I've had in a long time. What made it beautiful? (I'm glad you asked!) The move of God in worship, time spent with my hubby-to-be, and the love of my family. I want to highlight the move of God in worship, for I believe that experience set the stage for the remainder of the day.

I have been talking with my pastor lately about the nature of worship. We've got it twisted in the church today. We come for a quick fix, a boost of Jesus if you will, to make us feel good. We raise hell for 166 hours during the week and then weep before God for 2 hours on Sunday and think that is sufficient. We come to church to network and socialize, to see and be seen. But if we were to examine what worship is all about, it has absolutely nothing to do with us. Yes, we are participants, but worship is about giving total adoration and love to God. It doesn't matter whether we feel good or not. What matters is that God is pleased and that our worship is authentic. Authentic worship means giving God your all, your very best, whatever it may be at that moment.

And so, in worship on Sunday, I was moved when the Rejoice Singers began to sing "More Than Anything." The lyrics go like this:

I lift my hands in total adoration unto You
You reign on the throne for You are God and God alone
Because of You my cloudy days are gone
I can sing to You this song
I just want to say that I love You more than anything

Love me in Your Arms
You were my shelter from the storm
When all my friends were gone
You were right there all along
I never knew a love like this before, Oh
I just want to say that I love You more than anything

Here is the part in the song when there was a shift in my heart. Up until this point, the song had been about me. Though guised as being all about God, the first two stanzas highlight the way God moves on my cloudy days, in my storms, and in my loneliness. It sounds good, but to me it reads...God I love you because you got ME through, God I love you because of what you do for ME. But what about loving God simply because of who God is. God is awesome and worthy of our total adoration. Don't be fooled. I'm not one of those folks running around saying, "If God never does another thing for me I'll be satisfied." I guess I'm just not that mature of a Christian yet. But I do recognize that love for God, that my worship and adoration, must be steeped in who God is—holy, beautiful, majestic, wonderful, loving, merciful, and compassionate (this is just a start).

I Love You Jesus
I worship and adore You
Just want to tell
Lord, I Love You more than anything

I am the first to admit, I love a good reprise. That is the point when the song gets good. That is the point when it ceases being a song and becomes true worship. The music was fading out and the Rejoice Singers were just about take their seats when Rev. Lamont Granby got up in the pulpit and stirred us up again. Where there had been a shift in my heart moments prior, there was a shift in the atmosphere. See, Rev. Granby (by modeling it) caused us to think about the words that we sing. Lord, I love you more than anything. Anything. More than the house I live in. Anything. More than the car I drive. Anything. More than the position I hold. Anything.

The question I ponder, and the one I would ask you to think about it, "Do I love the Lord more than anything?"

Let me make it personal for a moment..."Lord, I love you more than anything." Anything. More than the degree I just received? Anything. More than my new job as Assistant to Pastor at the church? Anything. More than the man that is to be my husband in 3 days, 5 hours, and 43 minutes. Anything. Yes Lord, I love you more than anything...

So the answer is "yes." Well Donna, I dare you to probe a little further and ask yourself, "Do I demonstrate this love to God or do I allow other things to take priority in my life?" Here is where I can be and do better. Over the coming days, weeks, and months I will be asking this question and finding ways to demonstrate my "more than anything kind of love" for God.

Won't you meditate on this song and join me as we seek to shower God will the kind of love and adoration that God deserves?

Images from Senior Sermon/Worship

(c) Images shot by Sungchun Ahn

Listen Up, I Got a Story to Tell... (My Senior Sermon)

Sermon Title: Listen Up I’ve Got a Story to Tell

Text: (Matthew 9:27-31)

As Jesus went on from there, two blind men followed him, crying loudly, ‘Have mercy on us, Son of David!’ ²⁸When he entered the house, the blind men came to him; and Jesus said to them, ‘Do you believe that I am able to do this?’ They said to him, ‘Yes, Lord.’ ²⁹Then he touched their eyes and said, ‘According to your faith let it be done to you.’ ³⁰And their eyes were opened. Then Jesus sternly ordered them, ‘See that no one knows of this.’ ³¹But they went away and spread the news about him throughout that district.

This is my story; this is my song. This is my story; this is my song. Fannie Crosby got it right, we are people with a story to tell. At night, after tucking our children into bed we tell them bedtime stories. On the nightly news, we get today’s top stories. Rev. Clay Evans said, “when I look back over my life, and I think things over, I can truly say that I been blessed, I have a testimony.” In other words, he has a story to tell. Most of you in this room can recall that in Christian Education we read Anne Wimberly’s “Soul Stories…” which helps us to see our stories alongside the stories of faithful, both in the biblical text and in recent history. The rapper Slick Rick—known as one of the greatest storytellers in hip-hop history—puts it this way, “Now here’s a little something that needs to be heard…” The hymn writer said, “I love to tell the story! ‘Twill be my theme in glory. To tell the old, old story of Jesus and His love…” The Notorious B.I.G. said it like this, “Listen up, I got a story to tell…”

The Notorious B.I.G wasn’t the only one with a story to tell. The telling of one’s story is an ancient tradition. Let us look at today’s text found in the Gospel according to Matthew 9:27-31.

Jesus was in the midst of performing miracles where those on the fringes, those whose bodily conditions had caused them to be outsiders, were restored to health and restored to rightful place in society: a dead girl was raised; a woman who had been bleeding for 12 years was given a healing touch; a mute man was made to talk; and, in our text for the morning, sight was restored to two blind men.

In our text, Jesus was on the move. We do not know where Jesus was going, but what we do know is that two men who were blind were following him as he went on his way. Don’t miss this: blind men following Jesus. How many of us, in the text and today, have our sight and still don’t follow after Jesus as these two men did. They were blind. We do not know the history of these men. Had they been blind from birth? Was there some kind of freak accident that caused their blindness? All we know is that they could not see. Because they could not see, they were positioned as outcasts in their society. We don’t know their occupation or how they provided for themselves, but more than likely they were beggars relying on the handouts of others. Their blindness, perhaps like Bartimeaus, would have kept them from holding a position of dignity and making a decent living. Blind. In many ways, their blindness rendered them invisible to those around them. They could not see, nor were they seen. But, as we gather from the text, they had no problem being heard.

These two blind men followed Jesus shouting, “Son of David, have mercy on us!” They raised their voices, in faith, knowing that Jesus could restore their sight. They raised their voices loud enough to get the attention of Jesus. And so, Jesus engages them[1], asks them if they believe if he can do this—though the “this” has not been explicitly stated. And, in faith, they respond “yes.” Do you believe I can do this? Yes. And so, Jesus touched their eyes and restored their sight. Friends, there is something wonderful about being touched by Jesus.

This touch was so wonderful that the men whose sight was restored spread the news about Jesus. Despite Jesus’ stern warning not to tell anyone about what had happened, they could not keep this experience to themselves. Perhaps, like the prophet Jeremiah, it was like fire shut up in their bones. Or perhaps, like the Notorious B.I.G. they said, “Listen up, I got a story to tell.” And so, they told the story. They did not stay put and tell the story; they traveled, went from place to place, around the area telling the story. I know that the text does not say that they told their own story. They text says that they spread the news about him—Jesus—around the district. Yes, that is true. But, one of the things I’ve gleaned under Dr. Simpson’s teaching is that our preaching is part proclamation of the Gospel and part testimony. Our testimony points to the particular ways in which the Gospel has been real in our lives.

In spreading the news about Jesus they had to tell their own story—how they had been blind, outcast from society, not able to see the beauty in life, kept from making a decent living, relegated to living life without dignity. In spreading the news about Jesus they had to tell their own story—how they had been in the right place at the right time, how they had to be courageous and tenacious and downright loud to get the attention of Jesus. In spreading the news about Jesus they had to tell their own story—how they believed in Jesus’ ability to do a new thing, a radical thing, to move them from blindness to seeing, to restore their sight and in turn to restore their ability to be seen by others who were not physically blind but were blind to their person. In spreading the news about Jesus they had to tell their own story—how their eyes were opened. In other words, when we tell our stories, we point to the presence and activity of God in our lives.

As Christians, we are people who find meaning and identity and hope in a particular metanarrative—the Christ story. We are also people with stories of our own that intertwine with one another’s. We are people that, like those two formerly blind men, have the Christ event all up and through our stories. We are people whose stories point to a loving, merciful, healing, and redemptive God who is ever present and ever active. We are people with a story to tell so that God’s presence and work may be known. Dr. Davis noted in Church History last week, “we are in control of how the story gets told, they are our narratives to tell.” Telling the story, our stories, can be generative, but it can also be painful. Some parts of our stories are difficult to rehearse. For the two men in our text, it may have been painful to speak about their years spent unable to see. For me, as you will see, it is often painful to speak about my years spent washed over by the blues. And yet, we tell our stories because there is yet hope in our stories.

I’ve been handling words--and lots of them--for three years now, and so, the remainder of this sermon is my testimony, my living out of this text, in the best way that I know how. My guiding question for this work is, "what would it mean to consider human life, in general, and African-American female life, in particular, sacred text?" Friends, listen up, I got a story to tell…

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[1] On a side note, I am interested in the clandestine nature of this restoration. Jesus doesn’t restore their sight on the road, but rather when they come into the house. Jesus also warns them to be quiet about the whole incident.

*Altar created by Donna Olivia Powell

Sunset Walks...

Today I was running around preparing for Paradise (more to come after the class ends) and by the time I was ready to go to the track for my walk/run it was too late. The Drew Athletic Center hosts some track competition for high school students in January and by the time I was ready to walk they had taken over the parking lots and the building. So, I layered up and made my way outside. I'm glad I went out. I'm used to walking at the crack of dawn or midday. Dusk was different.

Sunset walks produce new sights and new smells. I kind of like it. For example, instead of fresh cut grass, I was met with the smells of logs burning in the fireplace and fresh baked cookies. These smells warmed my soul in the midst of the cold, cold evening air. The sky was the most amazing shade of blue for the majority of my walk--some mixture of cobalt and navy that only God could achieve. There were fewer people out and about--a couple of folks walking dogs. It was just me and God, or at least that's what it felt like. In a weird way, it felt like the world had stopped so I could do my thing. Yeah, I definitely like evening walks...

It's Not How High You Jump on Sunday Morning...

It is amazing how you can hear something over and over again, but one day it just clicks. It makes sense. It doesn't go in one ear and out the other, but rather it lingers for a while and has a way of changing your mind and heart. My God!

My pastor, Rev. Dr. Allen Paul Weaver, is a wise man. I am blessed to be a hearer of his preaching, a student of his teaching, and his daughter in ministry. He is a real teacher. His preaching is didactic, but not boring. He can jump with the best of them, but he reserves the jump for when it gets real good. In fact, he doesn't plan to jump. The Spirit moves him to jump. He doesn't put on a show when preaching, but rather he lets the Word of God excite him. And when he gets excited, it is genuine and contagious. But I'm not blogging/bragging about my pastor today, but rather I want to lift up something he said on Sunday morning...

Now, don't get me wrong, I love to have church. You know—hand-clapping, foot-stomping, hallelujahs dancing in the air, tambourines clanging, somebody just might break out in a run—church. I love when people are excited about the salvific work of Christ, when folks are praising God for just how good He is, and when people are expressing their gratitude in body and voice. Here is where the wisdom of Dr. Weaver comes in. He said, "It is not how high you jump on Sunday morning; It is how straight you walk when you come down." Can I get an amen?

So many of us put on on Sunday mornings. We jump and shout and run and wail and sing about love and then leave the sanctuary without being changed. We leave without having had an experience with the living God. We leave with the same old mess we came in with. We leave walking just as crooked as when we came in. But, as Dr. Weaver would say in jest, "Chile, we sure did have church this morning."

I don't know about you, but I am tired of having church and playing church. I want to be the church. I want to be a genuine follower of Jesus Christ. I want to be one who daily is being conformed into His image. I want to be one whose life witnesses to the redemptive work of Christ on the cross. I want to have a renewed mind—renewed by the power of the word. I want my life to bring glory to God. I want to, in the words of the prophet Micah, "to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.(Micah 6:8). I want to, in the words of Jesus, "love the LORD my God with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength, and with all my mind,’ and ‘my neighbor as yourself’” (Luke 10:27).

And, I want to jump and shout and run and wail and sing on Sunday mornings...but only if it produces a straighter walk on Monday morning.

(Amen Painting by Sheila J. Hall. Taken from http://fineartamerica.com/featured/amen-sheila-j-hall.html)